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New Reality: 1st of May 2025, Pocket Universe in Brittany

The elf's smirk was insufferable. Without a stake, Ardent would have already jumped him, trying to land as many kicks in the butt as possible. "The fight goes on until one of us is incapacitated or yields. No body armor, but any skill, spell, or weapon goes. If you have minions, use only one or none, your choice.

"If you lose in the first thirty seconds, our rule will be absolute. We choose a new King of France and return the country to the old religion. Resist up to a minute, and Francis stays, but we dictate everything he does. Over one minute, we let Francis take part in the decisions. Two minutes, we allow the System in France and Francis to choose his prime minister and raise his private army, but he's our vassal."

"And if I held three minutes I win?" Ardent asked, trying to appear candid.

The elf snorted. "No human ever managed to hold more than a minute before me. If you make it to three minutes, name your reward."

"You mean like… anything I desire?" Ardent walked his eyes around, stopping on the elven woman. It was a double meaning but it hit the bull's eye. She smiled back.

"Enough stalling! Count down from ten, Eranbuel!" the duelist roared, raising and stepping away from the table, imitated by Ardent.

"Ten… Nine…" one of the other elves started counting. Salvatore was praying, Ardent deduced from the slight movements of his friend's lips and his intertwined fingers.

The numbers faded from Ardent's attention, as he activated his Insight. The woman was an Archmage, equivalent to a Rank S level 100 in the System's measurements. The one he was going to face in combat was a Champion Fencer, same rank, his estimated level 70. Fencer meant sword, as far Ardent knew, nevertheless, the elf had equipped a spear.

He wants to play on speed and range…

Ana was back home, and Meanwood was slow and still weak against magical damage. The evident choice would have to call upon Dragon, yet Ardent figured out in an instant how the elf would counter: close the distance and stay near him to deny the Dragonling his Firebreath, and attack with everything. Too much pressure for Ardent's liking, so he summoned Meantongue, now evolved into a multipurpose living weapon. Coiled around itself, the monster looked like a round shield, which Ardent equipped in his left hand while taking his Schiavona sword in the right.

The elf shifted his eyes from Ardent for a second, looking to the sides. He didn't realize I already summoned a minion… he thinks I'll try to surprise him… Good… the condottiere said to himself.

"One… Go…"

The duel began with a moment of stillness and the elf sneering at him with superiority. A heavy weight fell on Ardent's shoulders, the certitude he'll lose, against a vastly superior opponent. Maybe he should just forfeit?

Warning: Mind Magic is used against you.

So he's a mage too?

Ardent shook his head, breathing deeply. To counter the dreadful sensation, he concentrated on what was around him. The peaceful meadow, the beautifully carved table, ten yards away, the stars, the bonfires… tiny cinders floating up in the sky… no, those were tiny fiery fairies, dancing around the fire.

He relaxed. It was a non-lethal duel. If the elf humiliated him, so what? Humiliation meant nothing. A recollection came back to him, of his village burning, and the screams. Ardent had met those kinds of screams too many times afterward. His adoptive father's mercenary company had strict discipline and honor, yet, not everyone had the same standards. The worst memory? Arriving at a small town a day too late to save it from a pirate raid. Pregnant women with their bellies cut open flies covering their bodies, stench… some fortunate kids escaped by hiding, yet forever traumatized… Like himself.

All of a sudden, determination washed over him, realizing the difference he could make as the System's Champion and he sneered, raising his upper lip like a wolf.

Your WIL+CHA synergy has made an effective check against an attempt to inflict you with Intimidation. By resisting a vastly more experienced foe Mind Manipulation, you have unlocked Oppressive Presence – Epic Grade, starting at tier E. This ability has a passive effect on hostiles but can be turned on for a greater impact, for 5 MP/sec.

The flow of hate erupting from Ardent made the Champion Fencer flinch. The next second, the elf Dashed forward, and Ardent Shadow Stepped backward twice. It was a good call. The spear's swing missed him by inches but pressed on with a thrust, if not for the second step, he would have been skewered.

The elf paused, looking Ardent in the eyes. A sign of respect, for the first time, assessing the adversary and his next movement.

Fuck, I forgot to raise my shields!

He did it, barely in time. The elf moved again, a different skill, faster, and was on Ardent in no time, thrusting his spear thrice. Ardent managed to parry with Meantongue. His energy shield, both on him and the minion, held.

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The young man tried to thrust but his sword met only air, the elf was now in his back. The fencer cursed, as his weapon met with the forcefield and was blocked again. Then, the elf had to retreat, as the close range advantaged the sword over the spear and Ardent had flourished it in a dangerous pattern.

Yey! Ardent was happy. For the first time to be tested in battle, the energy shield performed marvelously. It was a triple layer of different frequencies. Like in the movies. They started to circle one another, each looking for an opening.

"Thirty seconds!" the elf with the countdown yelled.

Goodness gracious, only thirty? It felt like an hour!

The sparring started again with another Dash, the elf landing more hits but Ardent's shields resisting. Nevertheless, the young man's Mana was now at seventy-five percent. Growling, he Shadow Stepped again, once backward, and a second time laterally, getting behind a tree.

The elf's spear threw a succession of light bolts that went both through the tree and two out of Ardent's forcefield. It would have gone through the third too if he hadn't dodged out of the way.

Spiritual Attack detected.

Nice trick, mister…

Noticing his attack was effective the elf pressed on, repeating it as he Dashed. Ardent tried to parry with Meantongue. This time, while the forcefields failed, the minion's toughness managed to block the attack in time.

It goes through shields, but has low damage… Interesting… A sort of Shield Disruptor…

A third repetition got Ardent once in the right shoulder, and it hurt a lot. He cast a Heal, renewing his force fields with different frequencies, hoping it would block the Spiritual Attacks better.

"One minute," the count could be heard in the distance.

Attacking Ardent with all his might, the elf unleashed a flurry of moves, his footwork impeccable. The young man tried his best to keep pace, but in the end, he got another wound in the same spot, making him drop his sword and Shadow Jump back.

At least I made it over a minute. He's strong… A bit predictable, but very fast… Err… What the fuck is this? Really?

Ardent made a considerable effort not to slack jaw. Instead of pressuring him, the elf had stopped and gestured toward the sword, inviting Ardent to pick it up.

He frowned back purposedly, meaning: How can I trust you? Snorting loudly, the elf took a few steps back. The condottiere approached the weapon hesitantly. Leaning gradually, keeping his eyes up, he patted the ground with his hand until he found the sword's handle, stopping a second, to convey a silent question: will you attack me while I'm bent down?

That made the elf roll his eyes and take another step back, slowing his reaction time. Then it was too late. Buffed with Lightning Reflexes, a disruptive frequency, and Stealth, Meanwood uncoiled itself in a blink and wrapped around the fencer, destroying the elf's forcefield shield by sheer pressure and disarming him. Meanwhile, Ardent plunged forward, tackling the elf on the ground.

"Two minutes!" the voice called.

The elf had probably more stats by far than Ardent, but a headlock and Meantongue made the difference. Fifteen feet of muscle and max Constitution, around the proper joints, were unbeatable. They stayed down for a while, the elf struggling to no avail, both panting.

"Err… three minutes? Helooo?" came the call.

"Dude, you're a sucker," Ardent sussured in the elf's ear. "Letting an adversary pick up his weapon is like writing on your forehead: I want you to fuck my ass."

"Do you want to?" the elf scoffed, tapping the ground thrice. "This is too much manly contact for my taste. Release me already."

Your adversary conceded. For winning a Duel against a stronger opponent, you gain one level and two Fate Points.

"In a sec. Little question: you suck at grappling, why don't you release that Spiritual Attack around you? Like an aura stuff."

"It's not my attack, idiot, it's the weapon's. Don't you know anything?"

"I'm an uncultured barbarian, what do you expect?"

"Release me!" the elf yelled again.

"Don't worry, that bulging you feel in your back is my spare knife, not my willie… The thing is, I'm kinda beaten, and I was wondering if once free, you'd return the favor, attack me by surprise, and then pretend you won."

"We Elves fight with honor!" the elf shouted.

Honor is for losers, Ardent thought, but kept his mouth shut because now he pitied the elf. I'm such a good-natured person, he gave himself a virtual pat on the shoulder. Still, he had a dilemma: was the elf a fast learner in the human ways, or not?

"What the fuck? The human won!" a voice bellowed near him. It was the one who had counted down. A Tank and probably a stocky lady with a short haircut, at a closer look.

"Seriously?" Savatore's incredulous voice reached them.

"Thank you for your confidence," Ardent jeered, more to himself, and finally released his adversary.

"Nice!" the Tank offered him a hand, ignoring his colleague. "It's good to see Taskiel learning some humility."

Walking in a row, Ardent last, because he was still distrustful of the elves, they returned to the meadow, where the atmosphere was tense.

"He tricked me," was the first thing the fencer said.

"I did," Ardent nodded. "My shield was my minion, see?" he gave them a demonstration, coiling and uncoiling the monster. "And your pal Tsatsikiel is too trustful—"

"Taskiel," Salvatore rushed to say. "Prince Taskiel." His tone meant: I beg you, behave. We're still on their turf, and they can jump us if we push it too much.

"Yet it was a win, right?" the Elven Archmage asked, staring at her fiance, who lowered his eyes. "Name your price, young champion." I'm yours, just say the word, her gaze said.

Goodness… Moment of truth…

"I…" Ardent looked away, before raising his head again and speaking with intensity. "I want us to be allies. We work together to bring a better life for the normal people living in our territories, and fight evil shoulder to shoulder."

It was a good speech, if short, and mostly, it conveyed he was renouncing his lust for her for the greater good. Maybe because her noble presence had made him a better man in a short time. He even added a short flutter of eyelashes at the end.

"You spoke like an elf," Taskiel said, with evident relief, offering a handshake.

You have no idea, chump… Ardent thought, accepting it. "I mean… if we synergize, co-exist, help each other, we can turn this planet… Realm, into a nice place for everyone."

"A neutral ground where factions could meet and negotiate," Salvatore said pensively. "Like Switzerland, in the future."

"I, Imperial Princess Fiona, find these conditions acceptable. From now on, we are under a sacred treaty," the woman said solemnly, giving Ardent a slight nod, thanking him silently for his sacrifice, and renouncing her. Albeit leaving room for a change of mind, if he reconsidered his choice.

"Let's party!" the Tank yelled merrily.