“Begin!”
The Sword-Dancer pounced on me, crossing the three-or-four metre distance between us in an instant, swords extended and ready to cut me apart. I fell back, my hands still resting on my scabbard and sword handle, waiting for the perfect timing. Immediately following up his pounce with a flurry of his blades, the Dancer came nearer, again forcing me to back off. As I backed away my foot slipped on the sand, and I accidentally let my Quick Draw fly at an awkward angle. It cleaved the air between us, missing him completely. Sensing an opening, he advanced quickly, forcing me back even further. Not once did his blades stop, and I could tell how he’d earnt the title of Sword-Dancer, as there was something beautiful about his fluid movements, even if those deadly weapons were directed at me.
I realised that only a few more steps would put me up against the wall of the arena, with no chance to escape the steel tornado that approached fast. A stupid idea came to me and I seized it without a second thought. I turned my back to him and ran towards the wall. Dutifully, he chased after me, no longer as committed to his form as he was to catching me from behind with an easy strike.
As I reached the wall I jumped and, planting a foot solidly a metre-and-a-half up the wooden barricade, I kicked off, flipped once in the air, and landed directly behind him. Without giving him even a second to react, I performed my Lacerate. My katana curved through the air faster than my eyes could follow, cutting a sideways V down the Sword-Dancer’s exposed back. Fortunately for him, I’d landed far enough away that my blade had only barely scored two straight lines in his skin with the tip, as opposed to cutting him into three separate chunks.
A single drop of blood fell from my blade and onto the sand, and the music and roaring crowd became silent for a second, before exploding into cheerful celebration. The Sword-Dancer collapsed to his knees and, with his back turned to me, muttered a few words in Arabic.
“I have lost,” were the words he said. I didn’t question my ability to understand a language I’d never been taught; in fact, I almost took it for granted. This realm had the ability to inject abilities and knowledge into your mind, so why wouldn’t languages be part of that as well?
“The first victory goes to the Traveller!” the announcer exclaimed loudly. My dark-skinned opponent got to his feet, nodded once in my direction and left by the entrance I’d entered from only minutes before.
It was strange for a fight to be over that quickly, and, in reality, the wound I’d inflicted was more akin to a papercut than a killing blow. In a real battle, it would have been far from over.
I barely had the chance to guess at who my next opponent would be, when an armoured knight entered at the opposite end of the arena.
So much for the chance to rest and prepare myself...
Something about the colour of the yellow cloth tied around the waist of his armour, as well as his height, was familiar somehow, as if this was a person I’d met before.
The answer to my speculation came when the announcer spoke next. “The Traveller may have bested the Sword-Dancer, but will she fare as well against one of our own fighters!?” The crowd ooed at the mention of a local fighter. “Keeping the Forgotten Village safe from bandits day-and-night, comes the one and only, Captain Tabian!”
Well, there was a plot twist for the ages! Who would’ve thought that I’d be fighting the very same person I’d only just a few nights ago defended the Village with? It was weirdly timed to be sure, but I might also have been a bit too quick to advance from the Raid to the Tournament Stage. It was the kind of plot development you could expect from a soap opera or something, but nevertheless it had the desired effect. I was quite shocked, though not exactly apprehensive about the thought of facing him. After all, I’d beaten Red Rian, not him.[1]
Just like the night when I’d helped him fight off the bandits, he wielded just a single shortsword, but in his hands it was a weapon to be feared. He wore a helm that covered his entire face and only had a T-slit in the front, providing a very narrow view of his surroundings, which would work to my advantage. The plating on his right shoulder and arm was slightly bulkier than that of his left and I guessed that I probably wouldn’t be able to cut through it, even with my black edge.
As he moved towards the centre, his movements were stiff, the armour limiting his movements, but for a fight which was about first blood, armour was a good strategy. By comparison I only had my cuirass that could stop a blade, while my head was uncovered, and my arms, sides, and legs were covered by just a single layer of clothing…
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
We both reached the centre at the same time, and Tabian performed a friendly nod in my direction. For a second, I saw a flash of his eyes in the narrow slit of his helm. I got the feeling that he was looking forward to this fight. Whereas the Sword-Dancer had been confident in his own ability, Tabian seemed eager to just test his skill. It made the upcoming fight much more exhilarating, honestly.
“Begin!” the announcer roared, his voice immediately drowned out in the chorus of yells from the attentive audience. Tabian was their guy, which gave them someone to root for. I wondered if I might be booed out if I beat him.
No, that’s not right: When I beat him.
This time, I was the initiator and I ran towards him as fast as my legs would carry me across the sand, while charging up my Quick Draw. The Captain took just a single step back, and it seemed more for balance than out of fear of my incoming attack.
I released my blade from its prison. It cleft the air and then, to my surprise, was deflected and ended up missing my target completely. The Captain immediately followed his deflection up with a counter-attack, striking as he took a step towards me. With the momentum I’d put behind my strike I was still moving towards him and only managed to raise my empty sheath before me in the last moment. As his blade struck my scabbard, I was sent stumbling backwards from the force of the impact. Not letting an opportunity go to waste, the Captain advanced with a chopping blow from above, but I’d already regained my composure and attempted a deflection of his blade with my own. I feared my brittle weapon might shatter against his, but it survived the glancing blow, and, using the momentum of that deflection, I moved past him and scored a shallow line across his reinforced shoulder plating.
Situated behind him, it was now my turn to retaliate, but Tabian was far quicker with his defence than his attack, and he easily deflected my strike again. Not falling for the same trap twice, I backed off quickly, and we ended up staring each other down for a few seconds, both of us expecting the other to engage.
I was the one who ended up losing patience first, and I came at him with a stab of my sharp tip aimed at his weaker breastplate. The thought of ensuring a non-lethal blow had entirely left my mind. In fights such as these, you win by any means necessary, lest your opponent exploits your mercy and hesitation. As expected, he went for the deflect once more, but my stab was merely a feint and I transitioned the movement into the double strike of my Lacerate. As my blade moved faster than I could see, I heard two distinct sounds of my glasslike edge striking metal.
With two strides back, I quickly disengaged before Tabian could exploit the astonishing double-deflection he had just pulled off. Somehow his reaction speed was quick enough to keep up with my lightning-fast attacks. I realised that my current approach wouldn’t work. I’d only tire myself out on his impeccable defence, while he maintained an efficient consumption of his own stamina, so that he could finish me off when I made a mistake or ran out of steam.
I came upon an idea and a plan started to formulate itself in my head. The thing was, he was quick to follow my movements, but he’d still fallen for my obvious feint with the stab, which meant he wasn’t taking any chances and would attempt to deflect or block any strike I made, since he had trouble seeing them properly through his narrow visor.
Already, I was starting to feel the heat seep into my body, the pearls of sweat that trailed down my back and tickled my skin, the blood that was pumped through my veins faster-and-faster. It wouldn’t be long before I exhausted all my stamina, but I still had enough left for what I planned.
Once more I charged at him. I swung my katana at several vital spots, attempting to score cutting blows, and, as expected, he deflected all of them, one-by-one. But I didn’t let up my onslaught, and for a moment it was like we had rehearsed this exchange of blows and parries, but then I feinted right and, as he moved his blade to intercept, I spun around to the left and let a minimally charged Quick Draw fly, which gouged a line through the lower part of the back plate in his armour and sent a dangerous amount of blood spattering onto the sand where it formed with the grains and quickly clumped together.
The crowd that had been cheering every deflection loudly was now stunned silent. They were probably in shock. To anyone watching, it must have seemed a done deal, such was the perfection of his defence against my blade. The irony was that without a helmet he would likely have beaten me, as I currently had no solid answer to his ridiculous ability to parry any attack I used. Perhaps I would later acquire an ability that was impossible to parry or something. I honestly wondered what the mindset had been when this fight was designed. It was still only my fifth Stage and already the difficulty was kind of absurd. Maybe I was supposed to have practiced a lot more beforehand. Also, this time I hadn’t really experienced the same weird sense of disappearing into the Dance of Death that my muscle memory had induced in me during my fight in the Hideout, perhaps it was because this was not a strictly life-or-death situation and so my brain seemed okay with taking it easy.
“I can’t believe it! The Traveller wins again!” Even the announcer was playing favourites it seemed.
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[1] Okay… Jakob helped quite a bit too, but that’s beside the point.