An unspoken communication was made between the bookkeepers and the woman who was strutting on the sands, her mix of latent violence and sexuality still intoxicating to behold. The woman exited the fighting pit, a signal for the fight to begin. The crowd returned to the edges of the ring as the two fighters began to warily circle one another.

The orc beat his chest in savage fury, challenging the diminutive man. In response, Vidone simply raised his rapier to his face, kissing the hilt, before adopting an en garde position. The bestial brute then charged directly at Vidone, waving his giant cleaver in front of him in wild arcs, seeking to overpower the Duelist with his raw strength and brutality. But wherever the orc swung, the small human simply wasn’t there, the green monster’s dark iron blade missing him by inches as he swayed left and right, ducking and weaving through every blow.

The crowd went wild, lusting for blood. Dodging a particularly clumsy thrust, Vidone took a moment to bow to the crowd. Like a lone matador baiting a bull in the tercio faena, he knew how to put on a show. He danced around his opponent with eminent skill. The orc was beginning to weaken as exhaustion took its toll.

The duelist met Gnarlug blade to blade, needle-thin rapier against brutish war cleaver, parrying each and every one of his attacks with a delicate flick of the wrist, to the astonishment of all. This time, Vidone was beginning to draw blood with blindingly fast two-tempo counters. His elegant sword wrote the script of death in sweeping strokes and flourishes, leaving shallow red lines across the barbaric green warrior’s skin.

Seeing the vast difference between physical skill and ability, I knew then that the orc’s loss was all but certain. Still, with the likelihood of him losing, I did not want his potential death to go to waste, so I readied a spell. His death would add to my power. Gathering my magic to me, I cast Drain silently, sending the thin threads of the darkest gossamer midnight to attach to the now rabid orc as he swept a mighty horizontal slash at the small man. Unlike my use of Identify, my Drain spell seemed to be unimpeded by my new heavy equipment. I surmised that perhaps this was because they were different types of spells.

I would have to leave such musing for later, as I observed the results of my magic come to fruition. Sensing something afoot, the skilled swordsman paused for a fraction of a moment, which threw his next parry off. Unable to divert the kinetic energy of an upwards slash, the lighter blade failed to stop the cleaver from smashing into the Duelist’s guard. Although the two combatants were probably similar in raw Strength, the same could not be said for mass, as the force of the blow lifted the willowy man several meters into the air only for him to crash down a second later.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Nonplussed by this turn of events I kept my spell going, still reeling from surprise as I held my breath, praying for the slight man to get up as the orc’s life energies kept flowing into me. My greed for sweet experience and power was ruining my plans. The crowd was silent, until Gnarlug followed up with a smashing blow, seeking to end the life of the duelist. By some miracle, Vidone evaded it by a hair’s breadth, desperately rolling to his left with none of his practiced elegance. This caused the crowd to go wild once more as the fight to the death resumed.

The playfulness had left the smaller fighter’s eyes. Gnarlug’s lucky blow had served as a call for greater caution on the pearl sands, the duelist’s confidence clearly shaken. Through a gash in his elegant blue jacket, I saw the silvery flash of delicate chainmail that had stopped the edge of the blade, if not the full force. The blow that connected must have been so powerful that, even partially deflected, it had grazed his chest.

The much smaller man’s moves were now less flamboyant and a lot more practical, as he lightly avoided his opponent's attacks, his facial expression growing more serious as the exchange drew on. Then, almost without warning, it was suddenly over. The small man bent slightly at the knee and then moved so quickly that he simply seemed to appear behind the large primitive warrior, before plunging his thin silvery blade through the back of the orc’s heavy skull.

You have slain Gnarlug Bonegrinder. 75 experience gained.

You have gained 1 Intelligence.

A great silence descended on the crowd. As the notification of the orc's death filled my vision, the giant monster slumped to the white sand with a heavy thud. My eyes darted over the scene before me…those movements were too fast for someone of the mortal realm to accomplish unaided. I shifted uneasily; the realization dawning that beyond doubt some form of the arcane arts had been employed to assure Vidone’s victory.