Captain Tabian pulled off his helmet as he turned towards me. I was breathing pretty quickly at this point. I’d completely overexerted myself, but it had won me the fight. The only thing was, if I had to fight another opponent immediately afterwards, I was shit-out-of-luck.

The Captain clapped me on the shoulder once with his armoured hand. “I thought I had you there,” he said. “You fought well.”

I nodded. “As did you.”

How is he not writhing in pain on the sand? He should’ve lost at least half-a-litre of blood by now!

The ability to completely ignore pain was apparently still part of the weirdness of this World’s characters, as the Quartermaster had also been talking to me nonchalantly, with his arm torn asunder.

The Captain departed the same way the Sword-Dancer had, and, as I watched him go, the announcer’s voice stretched itself across the arena again.

“Next for the Traveller is a scheduled fight with the Tower Guard, the personal guard of Alexander Tobias, who came in second last year!”

Uh oh…

“But first, a brief interval as we watch the Red Swordsman match off against the Sword-Dancer of the Dunes.”

Phew.

I’d lucked out and was given a brief respite. I wondered if I would’ve had to fight the Red Swordsman, had I not followed Father Adam’s quest. That I was also given a break, likely meant that the Tower Guard would be a challenge greater than that of Captain Tabian. That thought didn’t sit well with me. But for now, I departed the arena floor and found an open seat in the stands, coincidentally[1] right next to where the Captain had sat down.

I wondered if Kerebor was sitting nearby and watching, or if he was waiting outside by the arena entrance for when I finished the Stage. I really hoped I wouldn’t run into him again, but the knowledge than anyone in the city could observe me fighting in the Tournament made me super uncomfortable. Was there a risk of a huge mob forming just beyond the Stage border, preparing to each tear off a piece of me to keep?

The fight between the katana-wielding Red Swordsman and the Sword-Dancer had lasted a lot longer than my fight against the Dancer, and ultimately the Swordsman won by perfectly timing a strike to pass between the two blades of the Sword-Dancer and slice him along his chest. The slash completely incapacitated the Sword-Dancer, though it hadn’t killed him. During their fight, I noticed that something was off about the way the Swordsman’s red katana glowed in the light. I was pretty sure I’d dodged a bullet on that one, but I had the feeling that I might encounter the Swordsman sooner or later, as he had been introduced as, “A skilled fighter from the distant lands of Kakon-shi.”

My time to return to the arena came shortly thereafter, and, to my dismay, I was fighting a giant-amongst-men. Not only was my opponent covered in ridiculously-thick dark-green plated armour, but he was also more than two metres tall and wielded a long two-handed sword and an accompanying reinforced metal greatshield. The way he was casually holding his enormous sword in one hand and the shield in the other, made me think that he could crush my skull with a single punch. He was the physical embodiment of a tower, from which he no doubt derived his title. If the Captain’s defence had been near-perfect, this guy’s defence would likely be impenetrable. I assumed that he wasn’t breaking any rules, but how exactly was I supposed to draw blood out of this man, if his fleshy bits were hidden away beneath several-centimetres-thick armour plating? No wonder Alexander had agreed to the bet so easily. I mean, what was that blind old fool even thinking, coming up with such a stupid proposal? He must have known the folly of his plan. Easier to just hire me to steal the key from the collector, but no, it had to be something like this…

The announcer yelled for the fight to start, and the Tower rolled his shoulders easily, the armour plating shifting with the movement. The way he was covered in it made me think of a beetle’s carapace or a turtle’s shell. There was a difference though. Because, while beetles and turtles did have natural panzer covering most of their body, they also had weaknesses that could be exploited to reach to their softer parts that they tried desperately to protect. This guy seemingly had no flaws in his ultimate defence. The plates overlapped in such a way that there were no seams to poke the tip of a blade through, and the casual way he walked towards me, the armour easily balanced on his strong body, likely meant that even if I did manage to knock him to the ground, he wouldn’t be helpless like a turtle on its back.

I resolved myself to a dubious plan and dodged through the first of his heavy swings with the massive two-hander, cleaving along his right leg, hoping to cut a groove through the plates there. I looked back to check the result, but the blade had only scratched the surface. I wouldn’t give up that quickly though, and when he turned around to face me again, I tried the same trick. I dodged under his heavy swing that sent sand cascading everywhere as it impacted the ground where I’d been a moment before. This time as I went past his side, I let a charged Quick Draw loose, performing a full spin of my body, hoping to infuse the cleaving strike with more power.[2] My obsidian edge carved itself along the scratch I’d made before, but didn’t dig very deep into the plating, and left only a fine groove. If I wanted this plan to work, I had to the same spot a few more times. I hoped I had enough stamina to pull it off, but it would definitely be a close thing between exhausting myself and breaching his panzer.

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On the third strike, the Tower turned in response to my ineffectual strike faster than before. He had likely caught on to what I was trying to accomplish, which meant it would be harder for me to pull it off, especially if he started anticipating my movements.

Instead of trying for another overhead slam, the giant performed a surprisingly-quick double sweep through the air, which forced me to back away to avoid his blade’s ridiculous reach.

As I prepared myself for another attempt to strike his side, I felt his cold stare on me from above. I couldn’t even see his eyes through the tiny slit in his thick helmet, but, somehow, I knew he was watching me closely. I didn’t have a choice though, so I charged ahead, pouring as much power as I had into the Quick Draw I’d let loose. He tried the double sweep again, but I slid beneath its reach, skating across the sand on my knees and then sprang up once I came near his right leg again. I was just about to let my Quick Draw fly, when something collided with me and I was sent sprawling backwards along the sand, tumbling head-over-heels twice and then collapsing, pathetically out of breath.

At first, I wasn’t sure what had just happened. My mind was a scattered mess of thoughts that didn’t fully form, and my face was on fire with the pain of the impact. Then I realised. His shield. That massive thing. He’d spun the opposite way, somehow faster than me, and hammered his greatshield into me. His sluggishness that I’d taken for granted had been a ruse. With how easily he carried his sword and shield, it should have been obvious that he wasn’t slowed by his heavy armour, at least not to the extent I’d assumed.

I struggled to stand upright, and I ran a questing hand gently across my face. It hurt. A lot.

I was pretty sure my nose was broken, and from the taste of blood in my mouth, I’d likely also bitten down hard enough on inside of my cheek to break the skin. As much as I wanted to spit the blood and shattered bits of teeth out onto the sand, I couldn’t. It would be the same as a forfeit and losing wasn’t something I could afford.[3] Thankfully, my nose was only shattered and not dripping with blood… Yet...

Ahead of me, the towering man approached with heavy steps. He wasn’t in a hurry to win, it seemed. Perhaps he enjoyed playing with his food[4] before he ate it.

I brushed some of the sand from my neck and face, trying not to touch any sore spots. My breathing was ragged and messy, thanks to my mouth swimming with blood and my nose bent out of shape. Both my focus and thoughts were muddled by the pain.

Suddenly, the Tower Guard picked up speed and swung his sword at me. Instead of dodging, I tried to block it for some reason. The impact shattered my beautiful black blade in two and sent me flying across the sand again, clinging to the sad remains of my weapon.

Something about the impact of my head against the sand snapped something in me and I felt myself go numb. I distantly recognised the feeling, as my body sort of just took over, while I watched from behind my eyes. It was just like the time I’d snapped in the Hideout and performed my gruesome Dance of Death.

With the last bits of my stamina, I sprang across the sand and lunged at the Tower Guard. I grabbed onto his helm and, while he tried to pull me off, I clawed at the latches that kept his face safe beneath the metal. Before one of his massive hands could grab me, I spun around his head and positioned myself on his back, severely limited his ability to reach me. In my right hand I still clutched my broken sword and I tried to jab it into his neck a few times, but the metal held me at bay as sparks flew from every failed stab.

For maybe a minute or more, I wrestled with his helmet, trying to pull it off, while he tried desperately to stop me. To anyone watching it must have been a weird display and a degradation of the skilful fighting this tournament was meant to represent, but, in that moment, it didn’t matter to me. The music had vanished. The audience was silently observing us, though I paid them no heed. The only sounds in the arena were the muffled struggling coming from the giant man who tried to stop me and my furious sounds of exertion.

I broke open the final latch and pulled at the helmet hard enough that my muscles seemed to almost tear, but then, as if time had slowed down, it came loose and flew off his head, landing somewhere in the sand behind him with a heavy thud. There was such an expression of horror on his sweaty, tan face that I stopped for a second. Then I plunged my broken edge into his neck and carved through his throat and jugulars. Blood erupted from him like fire from a volcano, and I clung to his body as it collapsed onto its knees and then fell face-first into the sand, quickly gushing forth thick crimson waves.

The audience erupted in a brutal roar, as if turned mad by the sight of death. The announcer’s voice then followed, proclaiming me victorious. I had a feeling that it was almost a canned response, as he mentioned nothing about the brutal murder I’d just committed.

For a while, I stared dully at the enormous dead body, whose fate I’d wrought. Then I departed, collecting the second half of my ‘Passing Breeze’. Before I left through the gate of the arena, I spat out my shattered teeth and what felt like a litre of blood that I’d stored within my cheeks like some kind of demented chipmunk.

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[1] Or was it by design?

[2] For some reason, this kind of Anime logic seemed to make sense in this realm, though I wasn’t actually sure spinning around helped…

[3] Literally.

[4] The ‘food’ being me, of course…