Despite all the confidence Marcel had built, the rest of the fight continued in a different manner.
He sidestepped a huge overhead swing. The sword crashed into the ground only a hairbreaths from Marcel away. Marcel lifted his trident and got ready for a counterattack. He hesitated when the man started glowing golden suddenly. It was only for a split second, less even, but it was enough for whatever skill he used to activate.
Marcel’s weapon only pierced air. His instincts screamed at him, and he threw himself to the ground. He was a little too late though. A sharp pain ignited across his back like it was on fire.
Only when he got up from the ground did he see that it was the man who had attacked him from behind. So he was equipped with the same teleportation skill that his cousin had.
The arrogant young leader had only used it a few times against Marcel in the beginning, but after seeing him use it against the ogre Marcel had already been prepared. It hadn’t taken long for him to find out that he needed time to use the skill, and just by putting pressure he had managed to avoid him from jumping hoops around him.
Unfortunately it seemed that the same restrictions weren’t true for this second grade adventurer.
This turned the tides of the fight even more in the other man's favor. Since he had erupted his aura and started taking Marcel more seriously, the tide had slowly started to turn. Still Marcel wasn’t to be underestimated though. He might be a few levels behind the man, but he had a legendary class, an enchanted weapon that ignored his skills domain restrictions, and a shit ton of fighting experience. Without any of these three things he probably wouldn’t have managed to stay in the fight as long as he did.
This skill changed things though. The man was able to rapidly teleport around Marcel, his mana signature the only thing that gave Marcel some form of warning. His attacks didn’t land anymore, and Marcel had to stay on his guard repeatedly. He had no room for overextension or unplanned aggression.
This was exactly what he had practiced for months against the kobolds though. One wrong move would’ve opened him up from dozens of angels to small and greedy teeth. This was the same, only that instead of a dozen kobolds, there was half a ton of steel that would bite into him.
Marcel felt the blood seeping out of his back. His shirt became damp. Flames of pain erupted every time he moved, but he couldn’t afford to slow down. His [Aquatic Restoration] was running over time, but the wound refused to stop.
The ground cracked in front of his feet where he just stood. Marcel threw himself to the side to avoid another nasty kick, canceling his [Water Tentacles] attack.
Slowly but surely Marcel felt tiredness sinking into him. His movements became more sluggish. His evasion in a closer and closer manner.
At one point Marcel had to cancel his [Water Tentacles]. He needed all the focus he could just to stay on top of his opponents attacks. He weaved and ducked. He sidestepped and evaded. His Dexterity was pushed to the limit, all his mana was channeled into [Rhea’s Boon] for reaction time.
The crowd drew in their cheers. There was a tense excitement to the air. For a moment he had won them before. Who wouldn’t love an underdog? It had been enough to drown out the aristocratic members, but now the mood changed.
Marcel didn’t have much time to think about that though. He used a double feint to give himself some space, and then aimed a [Thrust] straight at the man's chest.
His trident surged forward, tips glowing dim red. Marcel charged as much mana as he could into that strike, putting every ounce of his body weight behind it.
The man didn’t evade. He didn’t parry or dodge. Instead a small spot of his golden armor started glowing dangerously bright. It caught Marcel’s strike precisely.
Instead of penetrating the man’s chest, his trident bounced off harmlessly. It was like all its kinetic energy had been drained away.
The man gave a dry chuckle, and threw a kick. Marcel hadn’t been prepared for that and his leg gave in underneath the kick. A wave of nausea went through him as his mind tried to process the absurd amounts of pain a leg kick could cause. He almost stumbled to the floor, barely catching himself on his trident.
A fist connected with his face and Marcel’s world spun around. He suddenly was on the floor, black dots dancing in his vision.
The man simply sneered at him.
The fight continued like a drag. Marcel collected wound after wound. Cuts, some shallow in nature, others more serious. His whole left shoulder became numb after a particularly strong attack from the man. Only the warmth of running blood managed to penetrate through Marcel’s haze of pain and adrenaline.
The fight continued and continued. Marcel grew more and more tired. His mana was running low. His skills were used and shown. And things didn’t look good.
He had no secret skill to fall back on. No lifesaver he had gotten from his struggles to turn the tides. He had wished for a broken cheat like skill after slaying the dragon, but that was for naught.
His advantages slowly dwindled. His class, despite its status, proved inferior to the man's better level. [Heightening] had failed long ago, even [Spear Proficiency] felt somewhat hollow in its instructions. His [Ancient Weapon of Suramar] was a match for the man’s sword, but not enough to tip the scale.
No. The only thing Marcel had going for him was his sheer thick minded tenacity. Despite the world of pain he was in, and the difference in class and strength becoming more and more apparent, he refused to give up.
By sheer will alone did Marcel manage to keep his skills running and stay on top of his foes' attacks. And while he was growing tired, so was his opponent. After a while the disadvantages of the giant sword started showing.
His swings grew wider, and slower. He used his teleportation more and more sparsely, rather letting Marcel strike his chestplate than use his mana.
Suddenly Marcel managed to let hits again. They weren’t much, and could’ve barely hurt the man seriously, but the effect on his morale was visible.
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Time became a concept without meaning as the two combatants continued to slug away at each other. There was only sweat, exhaustion, and the single minded desire to not wield for Marcel.
He again used a double feint to create space. This time he didn’t follow it up with a normal strike though. As the man pushed himself away from Marcel, opening a gap larger than his trident could strike, Marcel opted for a different tactic instead.
He threw his trident directly at the man. His eyes grew wide and the golden glimmer encompassed him. He blinked out of existence.
Instead of frantically scrambling away, Marcel turned around. He hunted for the last bits of mana he could find in his body and forced together. The combined flow was directed towards a single skill. Putting all his eggs in one basket four arms of razor sharp water exploded outwards from Marcel and towards where he expected his opponent.
When the man appeared there was a brief moment of surprise. Then of anger. Then of disbelief as he realized the meaning of the four [Water Tentacles] that had ruptured his chest.
Blood started streaming out of the man’s mouth. His fingers twitched. Marcel was ready to increase the pressure, but instead a gurgling sound came out of the man’s mouth.
“I yield.”
There was a moment of silence and hesitation, then the arena exploded into action. Marcel dismissed his [Water Tentacles]. An announcement that Marcel barely paid attention to rang out and figures appeared next to them. The crowd broke out in cheers and screams.
Marcel didn’t care for the joy and excitement though. He rather felt like having a lay down.
And that he did rather involuntarily.
A soft rain had set in over the course of the morning. The type of rain that could draw itself out over the whole day, bringing down its drops in sparse but constant fashion. It also brought a pleasant cool with it. As well as the comforting smell of wet grass and summer rain.
Marcel stood in front of the window, holding a steaming mug in his hands. He watched as the green grasslands that stretched themselves before the house were slowly turning into a drenched swamp.
A soft knock rang from the door.
“Come in.”
The familiar face of old lady Nancy peeked in. “The guild officials have just brought in this week's envelope.”
“Already?” Marcel asked in surprise. “Do we have Thursday again? That can’t be.”
The woman chuckled. “How quick a week passed if you spent it in peace and quiet instead of reckless adventuring, eh?”
Marcel couldn’t agree more.
It had been two months now since he had officially been accepted into the second stage of the guild. The trial had given him some nerves beforehand, but he passed it with ease. After his victory over a proper second grade adventurer his admittance had never truly been in question, but still Marcel hated tests.
Since he had been accepted he was also enjoying the benefits that life as a second grade adventurer brought with it. One of which was a thickly filled envelope delivered to his address every week. It was called allowance, and supposed to cover the basic needs of the second stage members. In reality though, it covered way more than that.
He had only taken a handful of quests since then. The focus hadn’t been on money, but rather on allowing the twins to catch up on his level. The money he got from these missions, Marcel mostly donated. He had no real need for it.
He had also adopted two new members into their party. The missions they took were growing increasingly more challenging, and they slowly started to mold into a real adventuring group.
“Just leave the envelope in the living room. I’ll be down in a second.”
Mrs Nancy closed the door behind her. Marcel could hear the soft creaking of the stairs as she went down. He took a big gulp of his hot chocolate, chewed the tiny marshmallows, and let out a big satisfied sigh.
He finished getting dressed and went down the stairs. In his living room was not just the envelope waiting for him, but also Will, Messy, old Mrs Nancy, and Torsten, the stable boy who had replaced him after his withdrawal from Mrs Nancy’s old stable. They were all drawn in amiable chatter and tea drinking.
Marcel still felt a little bad for leaving her back then. Bad enough that he had decided to turn things around a little with his newfound wealth.
“Are you ready?” Messy asked him as he approached.
“Already packed,” Marcel pointed at the bags next to the door.
“Good, then let’s go. We’re already late for the train.”
The twins got up and moved to the door. Marcel walked with them but stopped at the door. “I’ll be with you in a second.”
He walked back into the living room where Mrs Nancy and Torsten were discussing logistics.
“How are the stables?” He asked.
“Fine, almost half a dozen fresh breeds came in yesterday. If we get any more clients we might have to extend the building again.”
“That’s good,” Marcel said.
“Want to see them?” Torsten asked. “We got a Northern Lightning in yesterday, and two excellent Hopstown Hooves.”
“Gods no,” Marcel said.
Mrs Nancy frowned slightly. “You should see them sometimes. They’re yours now after all.”
“No.” Marcel smiled. “They are still yours. I’m just the one who owns the building.”
“You should live up to the responsibility more,” the old woman sneered. There was no heat in her tone though. She was pleasant as always. And how could she not be? Marcel had seen the way she had struggled to maintain her stables before. Had witnessed the financial burden it was on her. Tax collectors and local aristocracy had sucked the money and joy out of her like puny little leeches.
Marcel buying a set of stables and employing the old woman had been his way of paying her back. Even considering Fredrik, the twins and Marty, Mrs Nancy was the person who had done the most for him since he arrived in this world.
She had been there when he had been disoriented and in denial. She had given him a job and a place to stay, even after he had already quit her contact with her. How could he not repay such kindness?
Besides, despite his obvious disinclination towards certain animals, being a businessman provided Marcel with rather unexpected fulfillment. It wasn’t just a chance for the old woman to live out her passion and calling, the stables were also making quite a profit. Most of that came to the fact that local aristocracy thought twice about melking Marcel the way they did most of the normal business owners, especially after his stunt in the arena. Still it felt nice.
“You know,” Torsten said. “For someone who doesn’t like horses very much you are a pretty good stable holder.”
Marcel smiled and joined the twins outside. They had a contract full of excitement and adventure waiting for them. One which would also pay quite handsome for the twins, an additional stable for their ranch, and would enable Marcel to make some hefty donations towards some local charities.
The soft rain danced over Marcel’s skin. He took a deep breath of the warm afternoon air, looking into the excited faces of his friends.
Maybe he didn’t need to tear down the whole adventure society. Maybe the world didn’t need to burn, and he could find a different way to leave his mark and help people.
He had done something terrible. Something he couldn’t forgive himself for, and that would scar him for the rest of his life. But instead of running away and chasing ever bigger things in order to escape, maybe it was time he simply started taking responsibility for the world around him.
In that moment Marcel reached a realization. One that had taken him a full year to come to grips with, and for which he had needed to come full circle and end up back at the library.
His life in this world really wasn’t so bad after all.