Valle

It was a loud proclamation and that’s what I needed. Duelling was my stage and I needed to know every one of my moves was being paid close attention. Was I truly capable of bringing about the next step in swordsmanship evolution? This was why they watched me, because they wanted to know if my words rang true or not. I also want to know if my words are true.

“What evil madness d'you speak of Valle?” Mauro demanded. “What innovations allow you to claim the name?”

“I am the one true master of numbers and steel,” I proclaimed, “the Champion of Both, hear me?”

“Fool! Lord Johan has more mastery of both than you could ever hope to achieve! Even I am able to combine the two better than you could ever hope to!”

“With my very next breath, I disprove the first,” I said. My blade glared at him. “And with your very last, I shall disprove the second.”

He readied himself and I could see his stance tighten—beginner he was, but no imbecile. Johan had instructed him well and his stats were higher than mine. This excited me more than anything.

After losing to Estella in the quarterfinals of my only attempt at the world title, I fell in love with the legends of Duartes, the old fencer who overcame the stat difference. So brief was his presence on the professional scene that whatever consensus I could find on how he achieved such a thing was that he employed some trickery or that someone lost on purpose for gambling reasons.

Yet I believed in the legend. Duartes the Champion was the first person to overcome an overwhelming stat difference and Carr was the second.

“I will become the third,” I muttered to myself. It was more than empty words, it was a quiet oath. My champion’s pride would not allow me to fail.

Now, I thought, how do I go about beating someone who is much faster and stronger than me? This is what I really needed to know.

“There are many difference ways of beating someone stronger than you,” Carr had told me while we practiced. “But considering how high your stats are, I don’t think you need to know most of my weird shit. What you should focus on is…choices.”

“Making the correct choices? I’d hope so,” I told him.

“No.” His voice was serious. “You need to focus on overwhelming their choices.”

After a few practice bouts I understood what he meant. Carr did not precisely explain the concept to me, but there was no need. A demonstration and a hint were all the Champion of Cresna needed. It is tempting to think of conscious skill as an automatic, godlike ability—to assume that a pro will be able to execute a task correctly a hundred times out of out a hundred simply because they are ‘that good.’ This is not true. The secret that Duartes possessed, the one I sought after for so long, the one that Carr finally taught me was thus:

Reflexes are a myth.

At least, as most people know them. It is tempting to see someone like Carr react to an extremely fast attack and assume them to be some godly creature with fast reflexes. Truth to be told, simple, automatic reflexes are much slower than most people give them credit for. Even a professional like Carr simply cannot react to attacks he is not expecting, at least not with the speed we believe him to be capable of.

Then why do we see him pull off such impossible parries and retreats against opponents such as the Executioner?

Because he is expecting those moves.

Not all the time and not every move, to be clear—but the man expects certain reactions. He estimates based on the flow of the battle where his opponent is most likely to strike next and reacts accordingly. Nay. Flow is too abstract a definition. Carr knows, through extensive training, what parts of his body are exposed when he does certain movements. When lunging to the foot, he knows his entire upper body is exposed, especially his sword arm. Less dramatically, when he takes a step forward, he knows what areas of his body appear most unprotected depending on how his opponent’s height compares to him. A taller opponent might see the top of his arm as an easier target, while a shorter opponent might see the underside of his arm as a more desirable target. It is not all, of course—things like physical ability factor in the reading as well. A faster, but physically weaker opponent is more likely to go for shallow attacks that needn’t blade contact to be made.

Human beings had two kinds of reactions. Unconscious reactions and intentional reactions. One was what Carr called muscle memory, the automatic reflex that came from your body. Yet the second were things you intentionally aimed for, such as “If I see an attack that direction, I intend to react in this specific way.”

The absurdly fast reflex I saw Carr display against the Executioner, however, was neither the former nor the latter. It was both. His body was trained, honed, sharpened like a fine Arcadian blade to react thusly, and in addition he readied himself for certain possibilities. But it wasn’t possible for someone, even a master such as himself, to consider every possibility. So sometimes he rigged the deck.

Like against me.

By purposefully holding his blade high and to the outside, he knew my attacks would not have aimed for it. I would just try to attack his chest. And in response to that, despite my overwhelming speed, he managed to land a stop-hit against me and win.

NEVER AGAIN.

“Dance with me, villain!” I shouted as I stepped forward.

OVERWHELM HIS CHOICES!

I remained outside his range—after these first few exchanges I drilled the range of his rapier into my brain. Mauro advanced with all his mighty speed and it was at this moment that I made my move. Haven’t you learned yet, Mauro? Has Johan not taught you? The moment you place all your weight on your foot when you land, you can’t move again! It doesn’t matter how fast you are. This is a universal truth.

I lunged at his arm, angling a hit from the outside. Shock plain on his face, Mauro managed to barely deflect the move before he took an awkward step back. I did not chase after him.

Good. I want you to think of that…think of how vulnerable you aware. Be aware of it. Awareness makes you slow. Think…think more…

This time I advanced on him and advanced with my rapier held at half-extension, my arm almost but not quite straight. It made me vulnerable to a beat attack, but not as much as if I had advanced with a full extension. In return, it gave me better odds at disengaging around his attack. He attacked and attempted at encircling my rapier with his and I disengaged.

Encirclement, binding, or disengagement—call it what you want, they are different names for different situations, but (roughly) the same motion and they all shared one weakness. When you circle your blade around, it is inevitable that you raise your wrist just slightly. Give it a try: make a fist and have only your index and middle fingers extended and pointing forwards. If you try to draw a circle with it, either you will be very slow or you will find yourself needing to move part of your wrist to hasten the process. When doing so, pay close attention to the underside of your hand. It moves upwards! That area, normally protected by the sword guard, is exposed!

AND HERE I STRIKE!

The tip of my blade met with the guard of his sword, just barely: with his superior speed, the man managed to lower his guard just enough for the movement to steel to meet steel and allow for a hasty retreat. Again, I did not give chase.

Think…my attack can come under your hand as well if you disengage…

Sharp pain hit me. Godslayer’s wounds had not yet left me. They threatened to reopen and their threat was violent; I could feel the warm liquid leaving my body. Strangely, this didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. It took only a mild glance upwards to see the [Eye] watching the duel. Once I win, I will get a [Levelling Sphere]. Then, I can heal any wounds and not die. Was I always this cavalier about death? Hardly. What had changed? Was I truly this confident in my victory?

I stared at Mauro. Yes.

One more would be enough…

I advanced again, then stopped abruptly, shock evident on my face, “No!” I shouted. Mauro grinned and he advanced at me as I took a step backwards—there was considerable distance between us, but he figured I had misjudged our distance and attempted to step back now. Considering his superior speed, he was sure to catch up with me. Here, however, when I pulled my front foot back, I revealed I hadn’t moved my back foot at all. Thus, when he advanced, I lunged back at him. He assumed I was retreating and didn’t watch his distance, leaving him just in range of my lunge.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

This time, I touched his wrist. This time, I touched his wrist. It wasn't enough to score a point, however, but it was enough to make him concerned.

“I pray this isn’t the limit of your abilities,” I taunted. “These people deserve better!”

Again, a chorus of applause showered and empowered me. It washed away the pain. Nothing mattered other than being the Champion at this very moment.

“Is this your épée 3.0?” Mauro growled. “It differs not from regular swordplay!”

“Hardly. It is but the beginning—do you see now, faithless villain? That incomplete knowledge only dampers your speed? That your many questions as to the next blow make your incomplete swordplay dampen your reflexes? Now watch, as Valle the Champion increases your questions—!”

I jumped at the wall and then jumped off the wall on the stage. [Walking] is a very useful skill. No one had ever levelled it up as high as I had before and as such it required more than some experimentation on my part to see its upper limits: I needed something beneath my foot to walk on, true. But it was not at all—whatever I possessed under my foot had to be standing directly between me and the ground, so that a straight line, or as close to it as possible. The further away from a perfectly straight line the surface was, the less I could walk on it. The leeway in the process varied as I increased the skill. I could never fully walk on a fully vertical surface such as a wall.

But this stage wall was not fully vertical. It was angled backwards, ever so slightly, to facilitate props being hanged on it. It was not a wall in the truest sense; the real wall lied behind it. It was more like a cover. And this slight angulation was all I needed; I could not walk on it, but I could jump. I could BOUNCE.

THIS IS 3.0!

From the wall I bounced toward him, sword extended and lunged downward at him. No fencing training prepared you for your opponent attacking you from an impossible, magical position such as this. No one was ready for an attack that came from an opponent that was flying over your head. My blade went through his shoulder and his awkward attempt at a parry did not manage to dislodge my blade.

NOT ENOUGH!

Immediately upon landing, I used my [Swordsmanship] to dash up at a nearby wall one more time, and jumped at it again. Once more, I used my [Walking] to bounce off of it. This time I landed right before Mauro, but he had his sword raised high up to protect against an attack from the sky. Here I tried to take his blade, and when he disengaged he raised his hand just slightly.

In a hurry, he lowered his blade to cover the underside of his hand.

And I dove to attack his foot.

“My foot?”I had cried out. It was the end of our bout, before they escaped Cresna. “That’s an insane target!”

“Yeah, it is,” Carr had replied.” If you time it correctly, it’s a great surprise attack, but if your opponent reads your move well…even a child can stab you in the face by just leaving their sword in place while you walk into it. It’s something you see in matches back in my country, but you wouldn’t see in actual duels because of how dangerous of a move it is.”

Valle — 3

Mauro — 1

“Allow me to enlighten you: with my skills and fencing knowledge I can make you have more questions than your body can answer. It matters not how fast you are, for you will never be able to utilize your true speed so long as I am standing across from you.”

The wounds I had dealt were shallow and his [HP] was nearly untouched. Yet he struggled for breath, and whether out of exhaustion or fury I did not know. Words scarcely came out of his mouth for a moment, then, like a rabid dog, he thundered, “Fool, Lord Johan's Swordsmanship will not fail! It shall not, even before your tactics! My blade will strike true, pierce thy evil heart. Champion you might be, yet what cause do You champion, dear Valle of Cresna? Is thy cause just like my lord's pure desires?”

“My cause is to champion this land against the most vile of beasts.”

Again I bounced off the wall. This time, nearing the back of the stage, I again looked at the mechanism keeping the curtains from falling due to the sandbag attached to a piece of rope. What wonderful engineering, magical or otherwise! My blood loss alerted me to hurry. There will be time to marvel at the Majestic Theatre later. I bounced off the wall once more.

Valle — 4

Mauro — 1

Applauses. From the ill-minded crowd, perhaps? Or from my dear companions? Carr, are you applauding? Are you witnessing my skills? Are you fearful of our rematch? No…you wouldn’t be, would you? Are you excited? Are you looking forward to it?

I was standing across from Mauro now. His eyes were beginning to focus and it seemed as though he was intending on taking the offensive. This wasn’t good, I wanted him thinking, so I could make him think the wrong things.

I have the lead. There’s no need to overcomplicate things.

I advanced at him, slowly at first, then fast—he stepped away from me at an appropriate speed. Got him. Just like that time…

“Well done!” Carr had cried out, appearing astonished and grinning. “What you did right there was a genuine flèche!”

“A flèche?” I had asked.

“It’s something between a jumping and a running attack. You put your centre of gravity just past your front knee and explode forward, accelerating at the last minute.”

[Swordsmanship]

700→735

There is no way to defend against a flèche once you attempt to retreat and misjudge how fast the sudden acceleration is going to be.

Valle — 5

Mauro — 2

Shit.

It was hardly a perfect final hit, however. I had yet to master how to land one perfectly and not be hit in the process. Mauro had put up his blade awkwardly and I hadn’t dealt with it properly, hoping my speed would be enough of a shield. This was not the case. Yet victory was mine, albeit my stomach was bleeding heavily now. As soon as I landed that final hit, I extended my hand upwards and awaited for the [Eye] to drop a sphere. Soon as it landed, I crushed it.

To my surprise, it was enough to advance by one level. Ah…I had never fought against someone stronger than me before…

Somehow, the thought felt false. Mauro hadn’t been stronger than me; he merely had higher stats. The stronger had been me, the champion.

That last attack…at least I dealt a lot of damage to his [HP]. I’m certain he’s alive, yet my flèche surely pierced important organs. With my [Swordsmanship] the damage must have been severe. The amount of damage did not change my victory due to points, yet it mattered for more pragmatic reasons than mere pride.

“You remember our deal before the duel, yes?” I managed to say. The sphere healed the immediate wounds, but I still felt out of breath. Godslayer was hard to shake off, it seemed. “Will you surrender?” In preparation, I activated my [Legendary Eyes]. Surely Mauro understood that with his wounds he was in no shape to beat me after I had just used a sphere?

For not the first time this day I had wondered whether this creature before me took me for a fool. There was a wicked victorious grin on his face, the kind the unkind reveals upon our kind when unraveling their unrelenting cruelty.

I could see his plans here and I readied the rope I had grabbed while bouncing off the walls.

“You may call me honourless, if you must. But my Lord Johan's cause is more than just. I will sully my name, and cleanse it with thy blood.” Mauro raised his sword. To ignore a promise made before a duel was a crime most unholy, it was punishable as treason. Ten, ten, twelve…was there a reason for the twelve? I believe not. Most unprofessional. I hardly require stage to be spoken in meter, but if you will commit, do it so fully. There was no care for stressed syllables either, the cretin! “Die now, fiend of the rapier, my lord's enemy! Begone with thy foul existence!” Twelve, eight? Is he even trying?

[Legendary Eyes] informed me of the action that had to be taken. I leaped at him and we clashed blades—his strength was superior in a straight clash, and here I briefly went behind him as if to choke him before escaping once my objective had been accomplished. This was a gamble—would I be able to time this right?—but I aimed my sword at his right. The attack went over his shoulder and toward the back of the stage as he dodged me. Good. It was a wonderful thing, adrenaline. I was only vaguely aware of my own plans, it was as if my reason was only now catching up to the passionate side of myself.

There’s a fun thing about decisions. People make their decisions before they themselves are aware of that. Before they are aware that they’ve decided to reach out and grab a drink of water, their brains have already processed and decided that information. But [Legendary Eyes] tells me as soon as their decision is made. Before they themselves act on it.

The crowd stood up.

“Sit, oh rude guests!” I cried out. “The show is not yet done! Allow us to end the performance.”

“Why, they are not mere watchers,” Mauro replied. “They are part of our show.”

They started moving, with a terrifying uniformity toward the centre of the stage. It was a slow march, and I had about a minute before the crowd—nearly two hundred people by my estimate—reached the stage. Mauro was in no state to fight, but neither was I capable of subduing a crowd this large without murdering most of them. Even then, I doubted I had the ability to come out of this alive should I fight them.

“My promise was not to use my Skill until The end of our duel. Well, it has ended. Now, embrace death as the sinner you are!”

Eleven, eleven, ten. “Likewise,” I told him,” I also promised not to use my legendary skill until the end of the duel. Yet it has ended. And as such—!” I opened my arms wide toward the crowd. “It pleases me to see a crowd on their feet, to applaud our curtain call!”

I turned around to face Mauro. “It is a funny thing, ’tis it not? Blood loss? Things start feeling numb and coupled with the heat of the battle—why, you can go a long time not even noticing you have lost limbs or that you are bleeding. You are the same, aren’t you?”

“What are you—”

“Speak if you must, the clock ticks regardless. The reaper's blade nears you. You cannot live.”

“I cannot beat the crowd,” I told him, my voice scandalized. “My, what kind of actor fights his most beloved admirers? No, heavens, no! My safety shall come from their freedom, once you release them from their spell.”

“To do so would be a betrayal of m'lord!” Mauro spat out. “Death first!”

“Aye,” I replied. “As you wish.”

I cut off the rope attached to the sandbag and smiled at him.

For a brief moment, I could see the horror in his eyes as he realized the loose rope I had prepared earlier and wrapped around his neck while attempting to strangle him. As I had told him, in the heat of the battle, it was easy to miss such things…especially when he thought his hated enemy was about to perish.

Our eyes met as his body flew upwards, behind the stage, dragged by the mysterious device that propelled him upwards and began to drop the curtains. During his flight, with one movement of my rapier I used my [Swordsmanship] to slice off both his hands. He is still alive, I believe. With my [Eyes] I saw inside his head.

How…but that…it’s so fucking unfair…how didn’t I notice? Were you planning on doing this from the start? Mauro thought. He wanted to scream those words at me, but the tight rope around his neck prevented him.

I grinned at him as he was lifted skyward. “I never trusted you to keep your part of the deal, Lord Mauro. This duel was merely—“ I turned around to face the crowd “—a Champion’s duty to entertain.”

The curtains fell, hiding his body behind me. I heard an agonizing choking sound, then another, then silence. Slowly, the crowd that had started to approach the stage stopped, humanity returning to their eyes. “And that brings tonight’s performance,” I said, bowing deeply to them all, “to curtains.”

Without another word, the now again human crowd erupted into thunderous applause.