“There are three ways to beat a fella in a fight. You can be better than them. You can make them think that you’re better than them even if you’re not. And you can just be plain old lucky.
I prefer to do all three personally, but that’s not an easy ask for anyone not named Henny half-hand, now is it?”
- Post fight interview with Henny Half-hand after defeating Thraskall The Bloodless to claim the title of Arena Champion of Salazar, circa .179
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I stood across from my opponent, his sneer setting my teeth on edge and the swish of his glittering glaive parting the air in looping swirls setting my ears itching. It was a lazy movement, twisting from his wrist rather than using the full range of muscles in his back and hips to drive the blade around.
He stood relaxed; shoulders drooping and one arm held out to his side in a facsimile of a dandy gentleman. I assumed. Didn’t really have much experience with fancy lads, but from what I’d seen in Colchet when passing by the various inns and restaurants filled with finely dressed nobles, this man would fit right in.
It was incredibly annoying, but I fought down my frustration, knowing that this was either a tactic to deliberately piss me off, or the guy was just that much of an ass. Did it matter though? Either he was trying to rile me up, in which case I should stay calm, or he was just a pompous prick, in which case fuck him and his opinions. I wouldn’t get all worked up over the views of a fancy noble brat, now would I?
My little pep talk helped me somewhat, and I felt my shoulders relax a hair. I breathed deep. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Felt the grain of the wood in my hand from my spear, heard the creek as I gripped the leather wrapped handle of my shield too tightly. I was ready.
The moment he had appeared through the water I had felt my attributes lower in response to Jorge’s amulet-guided influence. A slight decrease in strength, a big drop in endurance, not much change in the mental attributes and agility remained unchanged. I’d adjusted to it already, having at least a few dozen breaths to feel my body change and understand its limits.
Finanda stood between us, gave a quick rundown of the rules – basically fight as if your life is on the line, as she would step in to prevent any fatalities – and then with a sharp gesture, she stepped back and the man started to stroll towards me.
He still looked too calm, like he didn’t consider me a threat at all. He raised his glaive in one hand and saluted at the crowd – or the cliff to our right anyway, no idea who was watching – so I moved forwards.
He had actually turned his head away from me to look at where his weapon was pointing as well. What an arrogant prick. Did he really think I was going to stand there and let him posture?
He turned to face me, surprise widening his eyes as he saw me rushing at him, but his weapon was too far out to bring around in time. I was inside his guard before he could properly set it and thrusting my shorter spear towards his stomach in a flash.
He backpedalled, moving with rapid steps to propel his body out of the way of my thrust. It would have worked perfectly if I’d aimed for his throat, as he could have simply swayed his head to the side to dodge. It would have worked fairly well if I’d aimed at his chest, as he could have leaned backwards while stay just outside my range, maybe getting a slight scratch on his chest plate.
But I’d aimed for his stomach, and the only way he could keep his intestines on the inside was if he caved his body, sucking in his gut and hoping the extra few inches of space would save him.
And they did. The lanceolate blade stopped only inches from his – relatively – unarmoured waist. He no doubt thought himself safe as it began to retract, and I saw his eyes look back up to my face after watching the spear miss its mark.
I saw the comic surprise again as he saw my shield arm come barrelling towards his unprotected chin as I used the momentum of my thrust to propel my other arm up in a savage uppercut, shield rim leading the way.
He was possibly more agile than I was, but he was moving backwards and was still reeling from surprise at my blitz. I was moving forwards in a planned and practiced pattern, and the difference between our respective positions showed.
Where I was expecting to hear a meaty thump of metal on bone, I instead heard nothing. Finanda had shot from her position behind me to knock my opponent backwards and my shield impacted only empty air where his head would have otherwise been.
She interposed herself between us, gesturing sharply again to signal the fight was over. I panted despite the fight only lasting a dozen heartbeats. The adrenaline coursing through my system wouldn’t let me off easily, and I had to breathe through my nose, leaning back to compose myself quickly as the Holder helped the arrogant prick to his feet.
He glared at me and spat to the side, shouting something about me being a ‘lowly cheat’, utilising ‘unsporting behaviour’ and how I was emblematic of all the ills of the world as a ‘filthy lowlander bitch’. He seemed to be reaching with that last one, and the Holder escorted him quickly from the dais.
I looked up to the crowd, seeing faces shouting through their little water-windows. I still couldn’t hear them over the thunder of the waterfall, and I couldn’t tell if they were yelling in support or consternation.
I shrugged, turning around and walking back to where I had come from. It was only once I’d made it through the waterfall that I realised I was facing the wrong part of the circular sinkhole and had to trek around the edge to find my waiting room.
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*Vera*
“A dominant performance!” Ventus cried, clapping Jorge on the back.
Vera snorted. It was a cheap shot, and Lamb was lucky he was fighting a preening peacock and not a true warrior. It was more likely to happen in the 1st tier bracket, but he was still lucky to have met someone so unprepared for a duel even so.
Jorge didn’t let his emotions show, and even Vera couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind. Was he satisfied with the quick win, or disappointed Lamb had resorted to such underhand tactics? Not that his opponent didn’t have it coming, but she doubted his reputation would recover unless he could pull out a few spectacular wins. At the end of the day, a crowd loved a winner, as long as they kept winning.
Vera couldn’t deny a little pride at the outcome though. She’d been the one to teach Lamb that true combat had no rules. He’d obviously taken that message to heart.
Sadrianna had lent forwards following the brief fight but was now leaning back against the cave wall again in thought.
“Not what I was expecting” she muttered, almost to herself. Her mother questioned her though, so she explained further; “He was incredibly patient when we met for the first time. Given what I now know about Jorge and Vera here, their team was never in much danger from us, but Lamb was trying to avoid escalating things. Just wouldn’t have picked him as someone who would fight dirty, that’s all.”
“He’s like you, Sadey.” Her mother said, and Vera saw the girl flinch from the nickname before casting a quick glance at both Vera and Jorge. Vera filed that info away for later – the girl clearly wasn’t as confident as she projected.
Arynia continued; “Jorge here says he found him in the wilds at a very low level, and when they next met, he had gained a class. Spent a few months in the wilderness fighting for his life against wild beasts. He’s not a favoured son or daughter like many of your peers.”
Vera could hear the approval in the powerful woman’s voice. She clearly agreed with the idea of getting real combat experience against creatures trying to kill you over safe sparring. That Sadrianna also did the same was no surprise – two powerful classers would obviously insist on their children being equally powerful, and that required solid foundations.
Sadrianna nodded. “I’m more interested in his next fight now, at least. Still not sure why he walked through the waterfall though.”
Vera knew though. She considered it a personal favour to the boy that she kept her mouth shut.
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*Lamb*
“That was quick” Nathlan said, looking up from where he ran a cloth along his bare sword. I sat heavily on the wooden bench next to him, my legs no longer wanting to support my weight.
“Aye, I guess it was.” I grinned tiredly. “Don’t feel bad though, Jorge and Vera no doubt understand you still lag far behind me and won’t hold you to the same standard.”
Nathlan’s head whipped up, eyes squinting dangerously, and I laughed out loud. He broke into a small smile as well after a moment. I started peeling my armour off piece by piece, hanging up the leather and scale heavy vest on an armour stand nearby before wringing out my drenched shirt.
“Any idea how long we’ll be waiting between fights then?” I asked.
Men and women were moving about in nearby caves, connected by open corridors. I could hear the clink of armour and weapons being moved about, and the chatter of excited voices. An official came to our cave, bustling in and gesturing for Nathlan to follow.
He turned to me as he slid his sword back into his sheath, and I noticed for the first time that he was almost completely dry, with only the lining of the bottom of his robe being damp.
“Apparently not very long. Luck with you,” he said with a nod, and then he was turning away and striding after the official.
I turned back to the armour stand I’d commandeered, watching a small puddle forming beneath it as my sodden armour continued to drip.
I sighed.
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I stood in the centre of the arena across from my second opponent, feeling my armoured vest dig directly into my skin. I’d forsaken the sodden undershirt and donned the armour directly over my bare chest, and while it had saved me a few moments of comfort when putting it on – and admittedly looked a bit more dashing now too, if I did say myself – I was starting to regret it.
I’d been hoping for another quick win, and it was looking increasingly unlikely. I had trudged through the waterfall and out into the arena-proper, greeted Finanda, and slipped easily onto the dais to await my opponent. The first I saw of them was a massive tower shield bursting through the water, followed immediately by a large woman huddled beneath it.
Her bright red hair flicked water everywhere as she shook like a dog after emerging through the curtain, but that seemed to be the only part of her to get wet despite her more vigorous entrance. I was still very much the soggiest man around, it seemed.
That wasn’t so much the issue though. No, the problem was that she had arms and legs like tree trunks, crisscrossed with scars, and a short gladius in her other hand. Clearly, this was an experienced fighter and not some rich brat using his father’s money to live vicariously as a warrior. And she had a massive shield and a short stabbing sword, which was not a combination I liked the look of.
I’d felt my attributes reset once more as she emerged from the waterfall, and once again I’d had time to adjust. Strength lowered slightly, endurance unchanged, Agility slightly lower and perception way down. Cognition barely moved though.
It was a strange mix of attributes in my opinion. She was clearly following a path meant for her to stand in the centre of a battle and hold her ground. An enduring rock in a chaotic storm. High cognition to help process the maelstrom of sensations in a battle and sort through which was most important. Perception wasn’t as important when she was unlikely to move around at high speed, and so it was discarded in favour of greater endurance and strength. A solid fighter, if unexceptional as a duellist.
She didn’t need to defeat an exceptional duellist though, just had to beat little old me. Fuck, this is gonna take a while.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I rolled my shoulders and hitched the armoured vest up away from my armpit again, trying to avoid the chaffing already building there. Deep breaths, and then Finanda was between us once more. A few more heartbeats to observe my opponent, catching the gleam of golden eyes beneath a curtain of ruddy red hair, and then the Holder was gesturing us together and stepping away.
Setting the tone, my opponent shuffled forwards carefully. Her feet moved deliberately, taking her forward and round, circling to my left while closing the distance. Shield up protecting her from shin to shoulder, blade poised at her side, its tip winking at me as it caught the sun.
I let her take the initiative, responding in kind to her movements. My spear darted out a few times, testing her reflexes, and what I saw was not promising. She might lack the agility and perception I possessed, but she had a large shield and knew how to use it, closing off angles of attack with her positioning before I could even think of exploiting them.
Her blade sought my front leg when I darted forwards for a strike over her shield, but I was able to check the stab with my greave. I backed away again and we exchanged a few more strikes of that nature. Back and forth. Probing. Uncertain.
It was a boring way to fight, and I felt impatience nipping at the edges of my mind. She was utterly unexceptional, but I knew that if this continued for too much longer, I would make a mistake first. Her muscles were defined and strong, her jaw set firmly and without a hint of doubt on her face. Her entire figure spoke to a discipline that I lacked, and I knew that in a fight of attrition, as long as our attributes were evenly matched, I would lose.
Luckily, we weren’t just two fighters with different weapons and fighting styles. We were two warriors with entirely different builds, and entirely different skills. Skirmisher of Antiquity had fed me the knowledge of ancient spear-arts, but she no doubt had her own weapon skill. Jorge and Vera, and even Nathlan bless him, had trained and sparred with me for days on end, sharing their own knowledge and skills. But she had also trained with others, presumably an entire clan.
I couldn’t rely on beating her with superior skill at arms, or with superior training. I had to therefore turn to another strength. I had to make this unpredictable. Guerrilla Warfare wasn’t so useful here; setting traps and taking advantage of the terrain was not possible in an open arena, governed by rules. I’d forfeit the match if I stepped through the waterfall after all, and without the ability to break line of sight, I doubted I could really surprise her.
Luckily, I had other skills to fall back on. I let my stone-sense sink into the ground, and circled around her, just out of stabbing range. I sent a few more flicks with my spear, aiming to remind her of my range and to keep her hesitant.
Then I sent a rush of mana through my soul into the constellation of Faultline. I felt the rock beneath her feet and willed it to crack. Lunging forwards at the same time, I hoped that my sudden attack would make her back-peddle and trip over the new feature.
Unfortunately, she had her own skills. It was a subtle aura skill I hadn’t noticed yet, as it had no direct effect on me or herself. It did affect the environment around her though. I was able to sense the stone beneath us, but as I sent my intent into the floor, it abruptly cut off in a sphere around her, a few meters in diameter.
Where she moved, I could not influence the rock. I guessed it would probably hold true of all elements to a rudimentary degree. Even had I control of other elements, I would not be able to suffocate her by withdrawing air from around her mouth and nose, or blind her with wind to whip her hair into her eyes, or draw moisture from the ground and cover her head. As the ideas swirled around me, I realised how prone I was to a sudden death from a skilled classer.
I aborted my charge, slipping past a lightning-quick stab of her gladius, and spinning to face her once more on the other side. So much for that plan. The momentary realisation of all the ways I could have killed her had I the skills, or all the ways she could likewise kill me, was a slap in the face.
I was thinking too narrowly. Much of my recent training time with the others was focused on weapons skills and fighting directly. Jorge had always championed the philosophy that the most effective way of killing an enemy would be to use your weapon. Skills were powerful, but your weapon was your greatest ally in combat.
Didn’t much feel that way right now, but alas. I had spent long hours drilling forms and sparring, but equally I had spent many days working on my new skill. Faultline wasn’t just a way to trip my opponents. I was only using it mostly like that because I lacked the power for greater feats, and the control for more accurate ones.
Sure, I couldn’t send a rock hurtling at the speed of sound at my enemy’s face with mana alone, but I could just throw one myself. I might not be able to grip my enemy’s legs in the ground, but I could litter the battlefield with craters and divots to make their footing less even.
I began to back away, focusing my will and marshalling my mana before transforming the environment. Cracks formed in the rock all around – Mountain-Born kept me steady despite the now varied footing – and the dais split as first dozens and soon hundreds of small fissures appeared in the rock. They weren’t deep, but even a crevice half a foot deep could be treacherous.
My opponent seemed perplexed, staying crouched in place and simply watching as I scuttled around the arena, cracking the stone in varied patterns. I looked up to see if the Holder of the circle would protest, but I received no sanctions, just a simple nod at my clear questioning posture. So, I continued.
After the first dozen heartbeats, my opponent started to move. She tentatively stepped forwards, extending her sphere of nullification as she moved but the ground didn’t reform to its previous state. She was wary of an ambush, but my ambush had not yet been sprung.
Or, more accurately, I hadn’t figured out what it would even be yet. First step was to transform the battlefield into something a little more chaotic, and that’s what I had worked on. I pranced back from her advance, staying out of reach and further altering the terrain around us.
She clearly decided that enough was enough though, as she raised her sword to the heavens and shouted. A bolt of brilliant lightning crashed down from on high, hitting the rock where I’d been standing only a moment before.
Branching scorch marks stood out against the white marble surface of the floor, like hands grasping out in all directions. There were small chips and flecks of stone left in the tiny crater where the bolt had impacted as well.
Luckily, I knew to get the fuck out of the way when someone gestures dramatically and does something unexpected, and so I was unhurt.
I doubted she did it on purpose, but I knew from experience that impressive skills like that involved lots of mana and an intense focus of will to control – both of those things were easier to carry out when you made a big deal about them. Just as lifting a heavy boulder was harder when you had to keep silent, so too was activating powerful abilities without an obvious tell.
Didn’t make the effect any less awesome to behold though. I couldn’t yet pierce her defences, and she could call down lightning on my head. Great.
I was at least forcing her to use some skills though. I grabbed a small sliver of marble from the floor where Faultline’s passing had resulted in a small island of rock disconnected from either of the cracks running both sides of it, and hurled it at her.
She ducked her head behind her shield on instinct, and we both heard the rather anticlimactic patter of tiny stone on metal. As she looked back around the shield though, my spear was hurtling at her head. She was forced to sway to the side again to avoid it, and it went clattering off the floor and over the side of the raised dais, rolling down the descending wall as I moved backwards.
I had to backtrack fast, as she took the opportunity to rush me, fast stabbing attacks of her sword aiming for exposed parts of my thighs and forearms. I kept my cool, despite the uneven surface, and used my heavy bronze bracer to deflect one stab, raising my lead foot to avoid another and hopping backwards to avoid the third strike.
She clearly thought I was in trouble without my weapon, and took the opportunity to harry me with blows, taking care to interpose herself between me and where my weapon had landed. I continued to parry with my shield and armour while moving through the jumbled mess of raised and cratered stone.
Every opportunity I got - which was fewer than I’d like since she was a solid fighter – I took to stamp on the odd thin canyons of rock I’d formed with my Faultline skill, kicking over any that looked small enough and leaving a trail of thin shards of marble in my wake.
We were both beginning to tire by now, having been fighting for a while. Nowhere near exhaustion mind, but her thrusts were a little less crisp, the footwork from both of us a hair sloppier. We would be able to trade blows for another half a bell, but each one would be weaker and slower than the last.
I wasn’t trading many blows myself, having no spear to hand. I had my primal dagger at my belt but knew it would be near useless at this range. I’d need to get past her shield before I could make use of the weapon, and that wasn’t something I could achieve yet without becoming full of sword-shaped holes.
But things were looking better than before. I decided to try another bit of subterfuge, and leapt forwards at her, raising my free hand in the air and bellowing an indistinct war-cry. As I did so, I activated Indomitable Prey, and I saw her flinch back behind her shield.
The combination of the big gesture and shout, and the intense change in atmosphere as my powerful aura skill activated, had convinced her that I was going for a big finishing skill. My raised arm would no doubt be filled with holy light as I descended upon her with the force of a thousand meteors…or something. I didn’t know what she was expecting, but neither did she, and that was the point.
Her uncertainty made her cautious, and she abandoned the opportunity to thrust at an open target in favour of sheltering behind her no doubt skill-reinforced shield to survive the incoming attack.
The reality of the situation was that I thudded into the front of her shield with only the momentum of my weight and my strength. I was exactly as strong as her thanks to Jorge’s stupid test, but I lacked the skills she clearly had that helped turn her into an unshakable bulwark behind her shield.
She didn’t so much as stumble, but my round shield was pressed against her larger one, both of us shoulder to shoulder with only two sheets of metal separating us. I could hear her heavy breathing, and while I couldn’t affect the stone around us for a few metres, my stone-sense still worked. I felt her weight shift slightly, and knew a stab was coming.
Praying my gamble would pay off, I sent a burst of mana down the artifact link with my shield and willed one of the segments to retreat into itself. Her blade shot out past her shield and towards my chest like a charging bull, swift and deadly, but I was ready.
I twisted aside, turning the piercing thrust into a simple slice along the skin. As I did so, I twisted my wrist to spin the shield, catching the blade in the open segment of the shield and twirling it further. I heard her grunt as her sword was twisted from her grip, and she elected to drop it rather than have her wrist snapped to maintain her grip.
The move had cost me though, as I was now unbalanced compared to her steady stance, so even as I flung my shield aside, her blade still trapped in its grip and clattering to the floor at the edge of the dais, her foot came stamping down on mine.
I hissed in pain, which turned into a gasp as she drove her whole body forwards, knocking me off balance and onto my back. She followed me to the floor, a great mass of muscle and steel baring down upon me like a falling tower.
I managed to roll aside, leaping to my feet and backing away furiously. She had regained her feet almost at the same time I had and sprinted towards her blade. I stamped down, separating another thin, irregularly shaped shard of rock from the broken floor and raising it above my shoulder.
I saw her frantically scrabbling on the ground behind her with one hand while keeping her gaze locked on mine. She couldn’t spare a moment to glance back to find the sword, which I could see resting only a few feet from her arm, as I would skewer her the moment she did.
Each moment that passed brought her closer to her blade and back to the status quo that favoured her. Especially with my shield now out of reach. Luckily, I had spent time scattering the battlefield with small spikes of stone.
I quickly scooped up a couple more of the thin spikes and started throwing them overhand at her. My right was a blur of motion as I launched spear after spear of rock towards the prone form on the floor.
A couple missed entirely which was rather embarrassing, but each contained enough momentum that she had to take the threat seriously. I was circling her as this went on, trying to find the right angle for my impromptu projectiles, when a better idea came to me.
Instead of aiming for any exposed part of her body – already a slim target given the size of her shield, I instead took a heartbeat longer and aimed at her sword. I knew she would be able to block this shot and seeing me take longer to aim she’d know it was a more critical shot for me and hence take it more seriously.
So, to divert her attention, I hefted another shard of rock in my left arm and slung it underarm at her shield, clenching my face up in concentration and trying to make it look as if I had imbued a skill into it to give it extra power. At the same moment, I threw the last shard of rock in my right hand at her sword where it lay on the ground by my discarded shield.
Two projectiles rushed through the air towards her, one possibly imbued with a powerful skill and on track to penetrate right through her chest. The other simply made of rock, unenhanced and brittle, and on track to miss her by a good foot or two.
It was an easy choice to make, and she slid her shield in front of the first one, where it broke apart into harmless pieces with a crash. That sound was echoed though by stone on metal, as her sword was hit by my second rock and sent spinning off the edge of the raised dais we fought on.
She had clearly heard the noise and knew what it meant but didn’t have time to turn and confirm before I had launched myself at her, flying through the air like a vengeful squirrel.
I slammed into her shield and we both rolled about on the floor, grappling for a dominant position. She had the weight advantage with her large shield and heavier armour, and our strength attributes were roughly equal. The crucial difference was that I had two hands free, while one of hers was wrapped around a shield handle.
I managed to slip around her back and take a mount position, raining blow after heavy blow down over her head, covered as it was by one arm and her shield. She kept trying to interpose the shield between us, to push me away with it and regain her distance from me, but I had wrapped my legs around her waist and held on even as I continued to punch at her.
Eventually I managed to pry her shield arm out to the side, and while I received a heavy punch to the side of the head for my trouble, I now had her spread out below me, only one arm free to defend herself. A few more punches exchanged by both of us, and then my knife was in my hand, its ancient and faintly serrated edge pressed against her throat.
I felt her muscles strain beneath me for a moment before she relaxed slightly, and I looked into her golden eyes for long moments before she spoke.
“I yield.”
Her voice was higher than I’d expected given her size, but I had no time to consider my surprise. I quickly disengaged and stood, reaching a hand down to help her to her feet before Finanda appeared by our sides.
She nodded to me briefly, slipping past and whispering as she did so, “Thank you for your restraint. It would have been difficult to intervene without hurting one of you.”
She stood in the centre of the arena and gestured sharply once more, signalling the end of the fight and no doubt communicating with someone up above to confirm the outcome. I went to collect my weapons, as did my opponent, and we shared a warrior’s hand shake before exiting the arena once more.
I smiled grimly to myself as I passed through the waterfall once more. Once is a fluke. Twice is a pattern.