Chapter 5.2:

I opened up his stomach even as he managed to block the head blow. He took staggering steps towards me, but I kept backing away, searching for the other opponent. As I saw him coming around, the big man stumbled to his knees, clearly bleeding out.

My last opponent was a bit taller than me, a bit stronger than me, and a bit faster than me. He had been more than willing to let his temporary ally take the brunt of the fighting while trying to sneak up on me, so I hadn't seen his sword skill yet. Luckily, the blessing of Loki was still flooding through my veins, and I felt invincible. I bounced on my toes, feeling ready, like I could move in any direction at any slight provocation without losing my balance.

The man circled with me on his toes, but I could feel I was just a little ahead. Perhaps it was just overconfidence from my incredible run so far. Perhaps it was the blessing making me foolish. But I charged him halfway through our circle.

I didn't even attempt to use my left blade as I swung my right with as much force as I possibly could. The blow came directly at his side, forcing him to block or step out of the way. He chose to block, and our swords met in a ringing clash that sent vibrations into my elbow and nearly made me drop my blade. Of course, those same vibrations were also running into his hand, and he flinched from the force of the blow. Surprise showed on his face from my opening move.

This wasn't something that most experienced fighters would try. Such a strong, reckless attack left me wide open. Honestly, it sounded like a great way to break a sword blade, too, but I didn't know what I was doing, so that didn't stop me.

Finally, I remembered that I had a second blade and slashed at him with it. He stepped back and riposted with a thrust to my stomach. I twisted out of the way, taking a thin cut along my already bruised ribs. But I slashed as I turned my twist, and he ducked under it. I tried with the back edge on the backswing, and this time, I caught him as he was coming up from his duck.

It wasn't fight-ending, but I dug a furrow through his nose and sent him cursing backward as blood dripped into his mouth. Not wanting to give him a second to recover. I was on him with a flurry of blows. The goal was not to make it through his defenses with each one but rather to simply keep him busy. Each blow was sent with 50 percent power. Still, each one chained into another, never leaving him an opening, making him block and constantly dodge.

Eventually, he slipped up. He was just a little too slow to move out of the way, and I was able to score a cut across his sword arm, forcing him to drop his blade. After that, it was only a matter of seconds before he was dead on the floor.

I stood panting, waiting for the arena to change, but it didn't. Looking around, I noticed that my first opponent was still very much alive. If unable to walk. He had forced himself to one knee and one foot and was trying to stand but kept failing as the lower half of his leg was not responding to anything his body would do. He glared up at me in fury.

Perhaps this was the wrong approach, I considered as I walked over to put him out of his misery. My shady tactics were definitely getting me farther in the competition and keeping me out of the cold. But it wasn't winning me any friends.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Salidin finding and fighting Bjorn and me was a perfect example of what would happen if someone took offense to my methods. Though in the end, I shrugged. I was going to do what I had to do. And maybe if I ran into one of my friends that I knew from outside the fights, I'd fight honorably. But for now, that just wasn't my style.

The arena faded when the last opponent died. I just matched my previous best, and I was barely injured. A few bruised ribs and a thin, shallow cut along my side were the only signs that I had just fought and killed seven men. The darkness lingered a bit longer than I had expected or remembered.

In the inky blackness between arenas, I heard a faint voice laughing in the distance. Before I could really think through the implications, the arena appeared, and my opponent was already waiting for me on the other side of the sand.

However, something was different about this man than the others I had faced. He was actually a hand shorter than me but a little stockier. In his eyes was a darkness, something that the beady blackness of them made me shiver. But what really drew my attention was that in his left hand, he also held a second sword.

His eyes studied me with the same intensity that I watched him. They scanned me up and down before they rested on the two swords I held at the ready. He froze for a split second before he threw back his head and roared out the fakest laughter I had ever heard. "Ha. Ha. Ha! What a cruel joke, Loki. You're so funny."

I wasn't sure how to respond, but he didn't give me a chance to think about it as he ran forward with both blades. I panicked. This man was fast, as fast as I was, with Loki's blessing. Worse, he clearly held the swords with more confidence than me. I had never fought someone else with two blades. But if this guy was also here because of Loki, it kind of made sense. Loki was testing us. And I needed to prove myself.

Meeting his first blade with my own, I slammed it out of the way and ducked out the side to avoid the second slash while bringing my second blade to bear. He slipped back, and I spun to continue my momentum as I knocked the blade out of the way but was only blocked by his other blade.

We went back and forth several times, exchanging hand-wringing blows as our bars of steel met in between us, each sending sound waves rippling throughout the arena to disappear into the inky void surrounding us. I threw every single trick I knew at him.

I flung sand. I kicked. I tried to use the back edge of my blade in surprising ways or punch with the pommel when I was too close. But each time, he had a counter. When I had to raise my hand to block sand, I felt a shin collide with my knee and could barely duck out of the way of another swing.

As we fought. I swear I could hear the laughing I remember from the transition coming back to us, and a second voice joined in. Another one that wasn't laughing but grumbling, muttering some curses and complaints. I couldn't quite make out, but I could tell he was not pleased. Eventually, the fight broke apart in a natural lull.

We stood apart from each other, panting, both marred with cuts and bruises but relatively functional. Our eyes met, and we acknowledged each other for the first time. Working my tongue through my mouth, I gathered a bit of blood and spit it off to the side. The man across from me did something similar.

"Jorg," he said.

I blinked, confused. "Huh."

"My name is Jorg." He repeated.

"Miles." I introduced myself. I liked the way he thought. Perhaps we could find each other and maybe figure something out in Valhalla. He nodded, and we lunged at each other.