Close to an hour had passed since the fight began, and they were still going on strong. I had thought that it being the semifinals, the fighters would be able to take each other out faster than before. But Dawkins had proved a hard man to bring down, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t seem to fully pin his opponent in one place for long to deliver any crippling blows.
Dawkins had lost his helmet more than once, and some of his armor pieces were coming loose. The black figure on the other hand was visibly limping, their movements less graceful and speed noticeably reduced, but they were still good enough to stay away from the cleaver. I had managed to spot what I could call Mana attacks and defenses between the two, but they were rare.
The black figure attacked with one of their swords, then went low with the other as Dawkins defended against the first. He tried to avoid the second but his loose armor was imbedding his movements too much, or he was simply tired, but the attack connected. And the stumble that followed as he tried to strike back proved that more than just a glaze had been made. His attack was received with one of the swords as the other one went on the attack again, trying for another hit; but the attack went a bit too wide, missing the head entirely. Dawkins still fumbled with his cleaver, nearly dropping it as he tried to defend while taking a step back from his foe. The black figure pressed on, emboldened by Dawkins retreat, with a flurry of slashes. Dawkins did his best to put up a defense, but some of those slashes made it through, with Dawkins’ helmet flying off yet again, in the midst of the attacks. He tried pushing the black figure back, but his attacks only met air, as the black figure danced through them. I was having a hard time believing that they had been limping moments before. Then Dawkins stumbled too much when his already injured leg was used for leverage. The black figure didn’t hesitate then, going for the neck immediately. Dawkins tried mounting up a defense, but it was too little, too late. I watched unbelievably as the first sword went through the neck, the second one hit the temple with the hilt. But I was sure the first one did the real damage.
I was rendered speechless then, but the other spectators were not. They screamed in joy at the victory, so loudly that I felt my ears near their bursting threshold. How was the special viewing area not shielded like the arena was from the noise? I was forced to block the noise with my hands, as I watched the rest of the special viewing area react nearly the same as the spectators. There were a few disappointed expressions, but I thought they had seen the result coming.
By the time I managed to return my sight to the arena, healers were already attending to Dawkins, with a few leading the black figure from the arena. The ones dealing with Dawkins followed soon after, and I could have sworn I saw him moving around on his stretcher. Had they actually stopped him from bleeding to death?
As the announcer donned on about the fight, I slowly got out of the viewing area, doing my best not to be noticed by anyone that might want to stop me. I had already confirmed when my fight would be from the announcer, late afternoon, and I needed time to myself to think about the next fights that were coming for me. As much as I knew about my semifinal opponent, they didn’t have a sharp weapon as a primary weapon, unless they could magically create one. But I had already experienced a Mana slashing and piercing attacks from my Round One fight.
But I would face one of the other two, and they had just proved that having your throat slashed open was an acceptable move. What else was acceptable? Head being lopped off? It had been something of a joke then, but it suddenly looked like a very real possibility. Was I about to experience death for the second time? Had Dawkins being talking about killing me when he first saw me? He might have minded his own business after Round One, but I was sure that some of that anger, displeasure, was still there, waiting for me to present myself to him.
I went directly for the Junior Arena, there were still a few hours before it was time for lunch, a little exercise wouldn’t hurt that much. Plus, it would get the blood going and me used to the left hand Mana channeling. The flow of the exercise was slow and methodological, just a reminder to the body of the movements I would be expecting from it later in the day.
As I went through the motions, I felt powerful, invincible, like I could take on any foe and lay them bare at my feet. The swing, swirl, strike and the thrust, they all felt powerful, and deadly. I could see all my imaginary foes dropping down whenever one of them connected.
I forced myself to slow down when I felt a sheen of sweat start developing, I still had to conserve my Stamina for the actual fight. I moved slower, bringing my breathing and movements under control. Short breaks every five minutes helped keep the fatigue at bay. The fight would be held a few hours before sunset, Clare had translated it to around 1600 hours. The main reason being that the sun would have dipped below the arena wall by then. For the fighters, not so much for the spectators. But I didn’t think there would be enough to fill all the terraces.
Break, training, break, training. It went on like that for a while until someone disturbed me during one of my breaks. I had been lying on the arena ground when a voice called over. I didn’t hear what was said, but I wasn’t going to keep lying there while there were other people in the arena.
I sat up and looked around, but saw no one in the arena with me. Then I heard the voice again. I looked towards where it sounded like it had come from, the terraces, on the far side of the arena, and saw a figure that appeared familiar to me. I just couldn’t understand what they were doing in the arena then.
I got up and approached them, all the time wondering how they had gotten their voice through the arena soundproof enchantments. Maybe they were down when there was no fight going on. Did it mean even the other enchantments were down too? If I tried to shot a [Fire Ball] at my unwanted visitor, would it make it through?
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“Someone said you went this way, and I figured you would be here. I guess I was right,” Xan said, leaning over the guard rail of the terraces as I came to a stop near him.
“Why were you looking for me? I don’t think I’ve lost you anymore money.”
“Quite the contrary, actually. I’ve made a small fortune because of you,” he said, standing upright and puffing out his chest, I think that was a subconscious thing. “And I’m looking to make even more, come the afternoon.”
Or not. He was definitely doing it intentionally. He seemed to have more faith in my abilities than I did, way more. To me, it felt like I had reached the end of the road. In the previous year, only the finalists had gone to the Counties. If things stayed the same, I would need to beat my next opponent just to stand a chance of qualifying. I didn’t think I stood a chance with them though, and it wasn’t because I was a pessimist.
“Even after watching that fight?”
“Especially after watching that fight,” he immediately countered.
“That makes one of us,” I mumbled to myself as I leaned against the arena wall and slumped down to a sitting position.
“What?” Xan genuinely sounded surprised. “The last time we talked, you said you were going with the intention to win. What’s happened now?”
“Things have changed. A lot.” I clenched my right hand reflexively.
“I see. You have started to pay attention to your opponents’ capabilities, haven’t you?”
The question sounded rhetorical to me, but I still decided to answer it anyway. “It’s hard not to. They are… they are very hard not to.”
We stayed silent for a while, minutes maybe, before Xan spoke again, with a faraway voice and a cautious tone. “I haven’t watched any fights of your opponent, but I’ve heard she is good.”
“That’s what I’ve heard too. But I’ve heard no one say I’m good. Not even you.”
He laughed then, a short one, as if to rid himself of something. “I thought that was implied. Anyway, if you lose, we lose together, right? I would say this is the most fun I’ve had since I came here.”
“Don’t say that. It’s just making things worse. Where are you from, anyway? I never thought to ask.”
“Thylom. I –”
“Like the Grand Duchy!?” I half-asked, half-exclaimed.
It was the first time I heard of anyone coming from there. Not only was I hearing about it, I was actually talking to one of them. It was enough of a surprise that I craned my neck back as I tried to bring his face into focus. To figure out if he was joking or not. He had looked like any other light-skinned native to me; and even with the new information, he still looked like a native.
“Yes, Thylom is the name of the Grand Duchy. As I was saying—”
“You don’t need to sound so condescending. I was only surprised, is all.”
“Will you let me finish?” he asked after I had disrupted him a second time. After I stayed quiet for several seconds, he continued, “I was born in Thylom, but my parents came from further northwest of there. I only came here around four years ago, going through a rebellious phase, my uncle said.”
It seemed like he was done and I decided not to say anything anymore. It was one thing hearing about things from someone who had heard them from someone else. It was a whole different thing hearing them from a firsthand source.
“If you do qualify for the Counties, I could follow you around. Then you might take me back to my family,” he said in this dreamy voice, giving me the feeling that his so-called rebellious phase was over.
“Are you crazy!? That would mean me getting to the Duchies. I haven’t even qualified for the Counties.”
“You are one win away from qualifying for the Counties. And it’s the Kingdoms, not the Duchies.”
“What?” I asked in confusion.
“We are in a different Duchy. For you to take me to Thylom, you would have to qualify for the Kingdoms.”
“Of course, it is.”
I gave up then. He was completely delusional. Kingdoms? That was three levels higher than where I was, I would have to go through two different ladders just to get there. I had barely made it to Level 30, what kind of training would I need to go through to be able to compete with those on those ladders too?
“I better leave you to your training. Wouldn’t want you to say you lost because I took over your training time. Remember, one more win and I could show you all the nice places I’ve visited.” His voice sound faraway as he neared the end of the statement.
And when there was no sound for over a minute, I knew he had left for good. I would see him again after the match, that was if he managed to find me. If I won, I would be busy saying goodbye to everyone I had ever known in the Realm of Mesily. There was no way that black figure was going to let me walk out of the arena alive.
And if I lost, I would be busy mourning the loss and what else it implied. Losing wasn’t really an option. Not at all. I had nothing against cripples, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be one. Even one single pail of a Health potion would seal my fate, and only a healer’s touch could reverse that. Whoever my next foe was, I would fight them with my teeth if that was what it would take for me to qualify for the hundred golds.
As lunch hour arrived, I slowly gathered my things and went back to the Inn. The usual group was there, and we engaged in light conversation as I partook my light meal. Lighter than usual, I would prefer to pass out because I ran out of energy than to throw up from a well-placed hit. Anything that was talked about then went over my head, it was all so far away from me. Detached even.
After I was done with my meal, I excused myself and went to my room. I couldn’t tell whether they tried to stop me or not, and I didn’t really care then. The only thing in my mind being getting to my bed for a rest. Was it a good idea? I didn’t care either. I knew that I had a few hours to spare, and my body would appreciate it. I set up an alarm with Clare and sleep took me almost immediately.
…
I woke up right on time, without having to be alerted by Clare at all. With one and half hours to my fight, I went through my wake up routines before leaving for the arena. Things were back to full, with only a few points missing in Stamina, I was sure those wouldn’t really make a difference. I carried one of the new staffs; the state of the old one was appalling, it would take was a nice hit, and it would break in pieces.
I made it to the arena with half an hour to go and went straight to the waiting rooms. My opponent was there already, and it was the first time I was seeing her. I might have seen her before, but I couldn’t recall. She had a light skin, near white, with blonde hair, the first I had seen since arriving in the Realm of Mesily, and she was currently being attended to by two healers. As I tried to study her more, I gained two healers of my own.
It didn’t take them long before they noticed the condition I was in, and the look they gave me was all the answer I needed to an unasked question. They were not going to do anything for me. Not then, or after. Their silence made me realize that the pre-fight checkups should have being conducted in private, maybe I could have asked for advice; or they could have offered unprompted. I only offered them a small smile in understanding, and a nod, which they returned. The nod, not the smile. I was just glad that the healer I was indebted to wasn’t one of them.
And then they left, and we were called up in to the arena, with me going first.