Sullivan took a deep breath, there was no turning back now. If he lost he wouldn't gain the half million dollars that were on the line if he won the Sabre bracket of the tournament, the bracket that he was currently participating in. His discipline was widely known as the fastest of the three disciplines of fencing and was also the only discipline of fencing that allowed the fighters to slash at each other to score instead of just lunge and stab.
He was currently the second best Sabre fighter in the world, but that wasn't enough if he could beat his opponent, whose name was Josef Ratliff, he would move up and become the world's greatest Sabre discipline fighter in the world.
He took another deep breath, okay time to come up with my plan of action, he thought. Josef has a tendency to attack first and ask questions later which is not always a bad plan on the contrary for this battle it is a perfect plan because I try to gauge my opponent before I go on the offensive, he mused to himself.
If I can attack him first I can maybe throw him off guard and get in a point before he can even realize what is happening. But on the off-hand I have never personally fought him so I don't know all of his tricks and fencing type. He thought for a few seconds before finally deciding on a plan.
I'll attack first and ask questions later if I can start off with a good lead. It doesn't really matter if he has any tricks up his sleeves, because if I lose a point it hopefully won't matter too much because I'm already quite a bit ahead. mentally steeling himself he grabbed his helmet and stood up picking up his sword, named Malum. He lunged and quickly snapped it back into a defensive position to make sure his reaction speed was on point.
And it was more than on point because the lunge of a master fencer's sword can rival the speed of a bullet taking off. After checking his reaction speed he picked up his helmet and walked out the door. As he stepped over the threshold into the arena he was met with a screaming crowd, bright flashing lights and cameras, so many cameras.
As Sullivan looked around and absorbed his surroundings he noticed a golden haired man staring directly at him. While normally this wouldn't make Sullivan react in the slightest the man wasn't clapping, shouting or getting excited in any way he was simply staring straight at Sullivan. Sullivan shuddered, it felt as though the man could see through him.
Sullivan looked closer at the man he had golden hair, not blonde but golden. It was exotic in a way and stood out among all the brown, silver-gray and blonde people around him. He was wearing dark sunglasses and had a business suit on as though he had just come from a meeting. Sullivan tore his gaze away from the man and focused on the ref. He was going through the standard protocol of rules and point systems for the crowd. He finished and told the fighters to go to their starting positions.
Stolen novel; please report.
Sullivan and Josef saluted each other and then the officials. "Pret? Allez!" shouted the ref and Sullivan was off like a bullet. Sullivan had never been exceptionally strong or fast but he made up for it by having a ton of skill when it came to anything related to swords. Sullivan immediately went on the offensive and lunged at Josef. Josef parried and swiped his sword at Sullivan, Sullivan retreated out of the way and lunged at Josef again.
Josef retreated and parried blows as Sullivan started to push him back, with a final slash Sullivan hit Josef in the lower torso. The lights lit up green to show that Josef had indeed been hit. The fight had only lasted a few seconds but these were both masters of their craft, even milliseconds mattered. As they started up again Sullivan readied himself then blurred forward and hacked at Josef's side, Josef lunged at the same time and they hit each other at exactly the same time but Sullivan was given the point because he had started to extend his arm before Josef.
This was known as the right of way and there are many ways to achieve it. They went into the next fight and Sullivan kept on winning by the skin of his teeth. The first period ended at 5-1 with Sullivan heavily in the lead. But Sullivan knew better than to get complacent because that was usually the reason most good fencers lost; they let their pride take over and stopped trying as hard.
They went back to their starting positions. "Pret? Allez!" The ref called and the world suddenly spun and Sullivan found himself standing in the middle of a battleground with soldiers running around with swords and some were even on horses with lances and were charging at other people on horseback. "Where the heck am I?" Sullivan muttered, "And what the crap is going on?!" He looked around and realized that half of the soldiers had a red lion on their chest-plates and the other half had a black raven. Sullivan took off his helmet and looked down at himself; he was still wearing his standard fencing gear. *ding* He heard and spun around looking for the source of the sound.
As he was doing this he saw that one of the men with black ravens was sneering at him. Sullivan blanched, this was not going to go well, he only had a fencing sword not an actual... he looked down at his sword and realized that it was NOT his sword. It could now be called an actual sword made of black steel with an ash hilt and what looked like a gold hand guard.
Now this is a sword! Sullivan thought with glee then he remembered the man, he frantically looked up and saw the man charging him. He whipped his sword up into a defensive position. The man wielded a long-sword and silver shield with the black raven on it. The man finally got close enough to hear over the clashing and clanging of steel on steel.
"A level one trying to do anything in a level thirty zone is a joke boy, a joke." the man said with a sneer in his voice. He had an accent that was somewhere between British and Australian. He twirled his sword and smirked at Sullivan."Why don't you go back where you belong, the nursery." He sneered at him. That was the final thread, and Sullivan charged him.