“Buster-Breaking Buster Breaker—!”
—One Swing swung his weapon rack down in front of him.
The splintered and mangled frame of wood and metal tore through the air in a perfect downward arc, before slamming into the ground in front of him, showering the entire stadium in a hail of dirt.
“Th-there it is!” The voice of Grapple Krumble echoed out over the loudspeaker. “The E-Rank adventurer’s signature move! He swung his giant weapon down before the opponent even had a chance to get near him! I don’t know why we’re still allowing this but the crowd seems to love it so I guess it’s fine!”
At his announcement of One Swing’s victory, the crowds of people in the stands all clap and cheer in excitement at the impressive demonstration of sheer length on display below them.
“And with that, brothers and sisters, One Swing takes his fourth win of the tournament and will be moving on to the finals!”
With the thirty-three-foot-long weapon rack slung over his shoulder, trailing ten meters at his back, One Swing made his way off the arena field and walked back through the tunnels into the stadium.
Before the final match began, he needed to swap out his weapon rack for another. Unlike his sturdy soulstone blade, it seemed that the inferior frame of wood and metal that made up the armoury's weapon racks could only sustain one or two swings before they became too broken and mangled to swing any longer. One Swing was already on to his third rack and was now heading back to the armoury to pick up a fourth.
Stepping through into the armoury again, he stopped to find that there were, in fact, no more weapon racks to take. After ripping the previous three from the walls and taking them with him—along with everything racked atop them—all that remained in the room now was the mess of mangled and broken weapons, bent and warped across the previously discarded racks that One Swing had returned to the armoury as they were of no more use to him anymore.
One Swing now found himself in a dilemma. He was allowed to take anything in the armoury to use in the arena, but there was no longer anything of use in the armoury.
Taking a moment to ponder the issue at hand, an idea suddenly crossed his mind.
With a smirk on his face, One Swing exited the armoury and made his way outside of the stadium and back into the city. Finding his trusted weapon lying across the street where he left it, he slung the hefty blade across his shoulder and made his way back into the stadium once again. Carefully guiding the one-hundred-and-sixty-four foot long sword through the stadium's entrance—the tip of the blade trailing fifty meters at his back—he made his way back to the armoury, and placed his sword on the floor amongst all the mess.
“Very good.” One Swing nodded to himself in satisfaction. “This should still be within the rules.”
Because he was told that anything within this room was fine to use, One Swing had decided to simply move the things he wanted that were outside of the room inside the room. Thereby making them a part of the room, and available to use. He had collected his sword from outside and placed it in the armoury. And because his sword was now in the armoury, that meant he was free to use it in the tournament, as per the rule.
Bending down to pick his sword off the floor again— A firm tap on the top of his head turned his attention back to the door.
“No, it’s obviously not still within the rules!” a woman complained, smacking the clipboard in her hands against One Swing’s head again. “You can’t just use whatever you want! This isn’t some kind of riddle that requires out-of-the-box thinking! You were supposed to just pick a weapon! No, not the whole rack, an actual weapon! I don’t know why they even let you use the rack in the first place! It’s clearly against the rules! And even if it did work like that and you were allowed to bring your own weapons into the armoury, your stupid sword doesn’t even fit in this room in the first place! Most of it is still outside! It wouldn’t even count anyway!”
One Swing stood to his feet again and gave the woman a quizzical tilt of his head.
“And who might you be?” he asked.
“I’m the one who’s in charge of what comes in and out of this room, and the one that’s going to have to clean up this mess after you’re gone! I take a few hours off for lunch and this is what I have to come back to?! Unbelievable!”
“Ah…” One Swing took a look around the room. What was once an armoury of tournament-ready weaponry, was now looking more like an indoor scrapyard. Along with the mangled weapons and their lengthy racks, the walls had also been damaged from where One Swing had ripped the weapon racks from their fixed positions in the room.
“I see…" Tearing his eyes from the wreckage, he gave the woman a short nod, and then reached for one of the mangled weapon racks he had discarded earlier. "I suppose this one will have to do then. It looks like it still has one more—"
“Absolutely not!” the woman yelled, and slapped his hand away. Picking something off of the floor, she placed it in One Swing’s hand and began shoving him out of the door. “You get this, and nothing else! It’s the only thing not completely busted anyway!”
Forced out of the armoury, One Swing held up the weapon he was given with a puzzled frown. "I have to use this in the arena? But… What am I supposed to do with it?”
“What do you mean what are you supposed to do with it? You’re a swordsman, aren’t you?”
“I am…”
“Well, why’s a swordsman asking me how to use a damn sword?!”
One Swing examined the sword in his hand, a frown still on his face.
“But why is it so short?” he asked.
"It's not!" she snapped back. "It's a perfectly normal sized sword! In fact, it’s probably longer than most other swords! It’s even classed as a ‘longsword’!”
One Swing scoffed. Though it was longer than the average sword, the sword he was given could not be considered a ‘long sword’ in the eyes of One Swing. As an expert on long swords, One Swing would not accept it.
With a defeated sigh, One Swing slung the five-foot weapon across his shoulder, and made his way back to the tunnels leading into the arena, the tip of the short blade poking out one-and-a-half meters at his back.
One Swing had no interest in swinging a weapon that wasn’t his own. Especially one so short. He had considered dropping out of the tournament and simply leaving the arena, but the reason he had entered in the first place was as a favour to his friend Grapple. And so, he decided to stay. He decided that he had already made it to the finals, so he only had to endure it for one last match.
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“Brothers and sisters, it’s time for the final match!”
Waiting at the edge of the arena, One Swing heard the rumbling voice of Grapple echo across the entire stadium.
“Introducing our first competitor! It’s the One-Hit Wonder, One Swing!”
At Grapple's introduction, One Swing stepped out onto the field. As he made his way into the center of the arena, the sounds of confused chatter filled the crowds.
“Oh? What’s this?” Grapple’s voice echoed out over the loudspeaker again. “It looks like our One-Hit Wonder brought an actual weapon into the arena this time! I don’t believe my eyes! How will he use his signature one-hit technique with such a normal weapon!? I'm excited to find out!"
One Swing also wasn’t sure how he would execute his usual technique with such a short weapon. He wasn’t particularly excited to find out either.
“And for our second competitor!” Grapple continued, sending all eyes in the stadium to focus on the tunnel on the opposite side of the arena as One Swing. “It’s the Hero of the Stampede, Thradish Three-Tails!”
From across the arena, another man stepped out on the field, slowly making his way into the center. It was a lizardman with scaly blue skin in brown leather armour. However, at the man’s back, One Swing immediately noticed three reptilian tails flicking out from behind him, instead of just the usual one.
“I’m sure it’s a name you’ve all heard before! This veteran B-Rank adventurer is quickly becoming a fan-favourite among the crowds for the expert use of his Cursed tails to slay his opponents or whip them into submission! I’m excited to see how those lengthy tails of his fares against the master of length himself!”
“Cursed tails, huh?” One Swing pondered quietly to himself.
Like the Troll King Shur-Burt, Thradish Three-Tails had been born with a Curse as well. Although, unlike the troll king, Thradish’s Curse seemed to have had a positive effect on the man, albeit a relatively minor one in the form of two extra tails.
Making his way into the center of the arena, Thradish Three-Tails came to a stop several paces across from One Swing. Reaching for his hip with a scaly claw, he unholstered the whip across his belt and uncoiled its long length onto the dirt at his side.
“—!” One Swing couldn’t help but help but be surprised at the man’s whip. A very respectable choice of weapon, One Swing thought. And quite a lot longer than the average whip too.
Gripping the handle of his own weapon— One Swing was quickly reminded of the diminutive length of the sword he was currently wielding. Comparing the two, One Swing noted that Three-Tails' weapon was significantly longer than the one he had been given. And as One Swing knew, the longest was the strongest.
“Alright brothers and sisters, let’s get this final match underway!” The voice of Grapple echoed out across the stadium one last time. “Let’s get ready to Krumble! Let the match… begin!”
On the signal to begin, Three-Tails immediately leapt ahead, lunging toward his opponent.
—And so One Swing swung his blade down in front of him.
“Break—!” He began to shout, however, his shortened blade had already made the full downward arc before he even had the chance to.
Slicing through the air, the dull blade whiffed through the empty space in front of him, before hitting the dirt with a soft thud. Missing its target completely.
Ignoring the failed attack that had whiffed harmlessly through the air, Three-Tails continued to rapidly approach One Swing.
—And so One Swing swung his blade down in front of him.
“Break—!” He began to shout, however, the blade simply whiffed through the air once more, slamming into the dirt with another thud.
Finally getting into range, Thradish Three-Tails came to a grinding stop across the dirt and snapped his scaly wrist towards One Swing.
CRACK!
The loud crack of a whip echoed out across the field as the uncoiled weapon was snapped in One Swing's direction. One Swing grimaced as he felt the sharp pain of its thick length snap against his shoulder.
—And then he swung his blade down in front of him.
“Break—!” He began to shout, but the familiar whiffing of empty air and the thud of dull metal against the dirt arrived once again.
CRACK!
In response, another crack of Thradish’s whip caused a sharp sting to his thigh this time. Though the lizardman was able to strike at One Swing with ease, One Swing did not have the length to strike him back. One Swing knew that it was a completely hopeless situation. Three-Tails had the longest weapon and, as One Swing knew, the longest was the strongest. There was nothing he could do.
“Break—!”
CRACK!
“Break—!”
CRACK!
The battle continued on much the same, with Three-Tails standing a moderate distance away and snapping his whip at One Swing’s body. While One Swing continued to stand in the exact same place he had been in when the match started, fruitlessly swinging his five-foot blade down one-and-a-half meters in front of him, before hitting the ground with another thud.
It was the only way One Swing knew how to fight, and so he continued to swing over nothing but empty air. The crack of the whip had started to tear into his flesh, leaving painful bloodied gashes across his entire body, but One Swing continued to swing anyway, his dull blade slowly hacking away at the dirt below.
CRACK!
“Break—!” One Swing shrugged off the pain of the new gash tearing across his face and swung his blade across the empty space in front of him once again. As it whiffed through the air and plunged into the hole he had been inadvertently digging in the ground, he wasn't met with another soft thud, but a sharp and metallic clang.
“… Hm?” One Swing peered down into the hole at his feet, and then his eyes went wide as he noticed what it was his short blade had clanged against.
—And then he smirked.
“Well, brothers and sisters, it looks like this might be the end!” The voice of Grapple rumbled through the arena once again, echoing out from the large loudspeakers dotted across the entire stadium. “As much as the One-Hit Wonder can swing, it doesn’t mean much if his sword won’t reach! One Swing might be tough, but even the toughest adventurers have their limits! I don’t know how much more of Thradish’s whipping he’s going to be able to—!”
And then the loudspeaker cut out, cutting the announcer off before he could finish.
One Swing, on the other hand, had reached into the hole in the dirt, a smirk still on his face.
CRACK!
Another one of Thradish’s attacks snapped painfully against the side of One Swing’s face, splitting open the man’s ear. But One Swing continued to smirk. Gripping the metallic object inside the dirt hole in the center of the arena—
—One Swing swung it up in front of him.
“BREAKER OF THE EXISTENTIAL VEIL—!”
The entire stadium itself began to rumble as One Swing lifted the metallic object from the dirt, sending quaking fissures splitting and rising across the entirety of the battlefield. The crowds of spectators in the audience started to scream and run as both the walls and floor of the arena began to crack and crumble beneath their very feet. The whining groan of every single loudspeaker across the stadium echoed out in unison as they all collapsed to the ground at once.
Rising up from the ground, an entire web of metal pipes was lifted into the air in a hail of dirt and debris. It was the loudspeaker system itself. The one that was built by dwarves to run all across the stadium.
Lifting the entire colossal structure up into the air, One Swing held it above his head for a single moment.
“—SILENCING APOCALYPSE—!”
—Before swinging it back down again.
A cacophony of screeching metal and crumbling stone echoed out across the city of Gran Torte as the entire Krumbledome crumbled to the ground.