"R-Round two, ladies and gentlemen! The frontier boy's got the champ's full attention now! We're in uncharted waters, folks, I don't, I honestly don't know what we're about to see—"
Tlaloc came in more measured this time, with the shield leading at chest height and the longsword tucked in and chambered behind it. Every step across the sand landed on a heel-first line that could pivot in any direction. He stopped just out of reach and… waited.
Cal dropped his boosting Ability since Tlaloc had dropped his bloodline, and opened with a light probe, feinting high toward the shield's rim then dropping the tip and thrusting low toward the inside of Tlaloc's forward knee. The knee that he knew collapsed inward and should be able to reach.
Yet, the shield was already there. Cal's spear tip fired at what should have been a guaranteed hit, but with a burst of Mana the kite shield was waiting for it, his thrust ringing off the wood-and-steel with a vibration that ran up his forearms.
He reset at speed and attacked again. Angled off the shield side, faster this time, and drove a [Piercing Stab] at the seam between Tlaloc's collarbone and neck.
The shield arrived first, slotting into the gap before he'd even fully committed the thrust, as though it had known where the strike would land before he did.
That's just cheating...
He tried three more angles in the next few seconds. First, a [Flicker Step] to the outside and a thrust to the ribs. The shield was there. A feint at the eyes, with the real strike to the forward thigh. Shield was there. A combination through the timing gap between Tlaloc's shield check and sword recovery, the exact window [Combat Analysis] had mapped in round one. Shield. There.
The one hit he did land was a snapping backhand shot with the spear shaft along the outside of Tlaloc's sword arm, which cost him a longsword slash across his left bicep that would leave another nice bruise.
That bloodline is really *annoying. It doesn't matter how many angles I try… I'm not getting past the shield with just one line of attack. Sure, I could probably make the guy extra crispy with [Immolation], but this is just a spar.*
Cal ended up intentionally giving ground. A quick chain of dashes carried him to the far side of the ring and well past the killing distance of Tlaloc's sword. He looked down at the spear in his hands, then back up at Tlaloc across the sand.
Tlaloc was watching him warily. Cal turned his back on the man and walked toward the weapon rack he'd maneuvered beside. The murmur that went through the crowd behind him sounded confused, and Corvis naturally stepped in to fill the void.
"He's, wait, he's leaving? Is he done? Folks, I don't—no, hang on, hang on, he's at the rack, he's, what is he doing at the rack?"
Cal slotted the practice spear back into its bracket. He ran his hand along the row, over practice longswords and maces, a stack of wooden bucklers and a battered training halberd.
He stopped on the shortswords, grinning, and took two.
They were paired blades matched in size. He hefted them one at a time and settled them in his grip, testing their balance. His right hand knew the shortsword. Bael'zhar had been riding at his hip most days, and the muscle memory from training with the Legion gave him confidence. His left hand didn't have a clue about what it was doing, but he had high hopes for how [Savant of the Body] would perform.
No time like the present!
He walked back to his mark on the sands as Corvis resumed his role as the hype-man.
"He's, ladies and gentlemen, the frontier boy has swapped weapons mid-fight! Two shortswords! I have never seen this in a sanctioned yard, this is, this is either genius or suicide, and I for one am here for it!"
Tlaloc's shield came down half a foot. He blinked, slowly, then his face closed again and the shield came back up. Nola narrowed her eyes. Cal caught the shift at the edge of his vision, the way her hands clasped and unclasped in front of her.
"Continue," the instructor pronounced.
Cal brought both blades up and advanced. His right hand set the lead sword in a middle guard, while his left tried to mirror it. Immediately, he felt awkward. His off-hand wanted to be a shield, wanted to sit high and square across his chest like every hour of Legion drilling had hammered into him, but instead there was a sword there now.
Tlaloc read Cal's unfamiliarity in an instant and re-ignited [Prowler's Fury], the red flush running up his neck and into his face while his pupils blew wide. Cal barely had time to think before the man was on him.
The shield check came high and Cal's right sword tried to angle it wide. His left sword came up to help, on the instinct of a spearman whose off-hand had been a supporting brace for months, and the two blades collided on top of each other and into Tlaloc's shield.
He'd failed to protect his left side, and Tlaloc didn't hesitate to take advantage of the mistake.
The longsword slammed into his ribs with a strike that would have disemboweled him, armor or no, had the blade been sharpened. The reinforced leather helped soften the blow, but it still felt like he'd cracked a bone. Cal was forced to give ground and dodge or he risked a serious bludgeoning. His blades tangled again on the retreat, his left hand fighting his right for the same defensive line while Tlaloc's next shield check drove him back another two steps, completely off-balancing him.
"The gamble is not paying off, folks!" Corvis was almost singing. "The spear was the man's weapon, and he's given it up! Tlaloc's picking him apart! This is what happens when you get cute in a Circuit yard!"
Another combination launched a high shield feint and slash to the outside of Cal's left thigh. He'd taken the man's measure, even with the increased speed of his bloodline, and saw the attack coming with plenty of time to react. But it got through because his left sword didn't have the proper positioning to leverage an answer to the strike, and it pounded his quad. He limped around Tlaloc trying to loosen the new spasm, having to [Dash] away on his good leg to reset when the man tried to capitalize.
The crowd's energy had shifted back. The whoops were in full force for Tlaloc again, the trainees leaning forward on their toes because their champion was winning.
Yeah, I'm going to lose this if I don't steal an advantage. Time to chew up my channels a bit harder and lean on the physical edge.
Cal seized his Stamina and spun [Crimson Overdrive] back up. His off-hand went to mirror his right again on Tlaloc's next combination, but this time something else moved through his body, even faster than the existing muscle memory. Perhaps pain had been teaching him a lesson, or the increased physicality of his boosting Ability allowed him better reactions. Perhaps repetition really was the mother of learning, and Cal didn't need to feel the failures more than once. Maybe it was something else entirely? Whatever it was, [Savant of the Body] was coming online, just like he'd hoped.
His left arm suddenly stopped fighting his right hand for the same line and quit trying to be a shield or spear. It started settling into its own role, a beat in front of his dominant sword, on its own timing and angle. With one hand, he managed to connect a quick slash with Tlaloc's attacking longsword and with his other, simultaneously block the punching shield.
Tlaloc continued to fight offensively, trying to overwhelm Cal in his weakness. Cal's right sword beat the next shield bash wide using a [Severing Slash], while his left sword flicked out and drew a shallow welt across Tlaloc's shield arm above the strap, all while dodging the attacking longsword.
[New Skill Gained: Dual Wielding (E) - Novice]
Well, hello there. Now we're talkin'!
Cal drove forward and their interaction changed shape inside three seconds. His right hand ran a middle-guard into a thrust into a low slash into a high parry—a sequence he'd drilled many times before. His left hand followed behind on angles he wasn't consciously choosing, trying to weave into natural motions and timing, at first stuttering and lagging behind but slowly ramping up and tightening his tempo. His left blade increasingly harried Tlaloc's sword side, snapping at his elbow and threatening his neck, forcing his kite shield to rotate faster than it had needed to rotate in round one.
It still hadn't missed a block, but Tlaloc had to work his bloodline harder now, consuming more and more Mana to keep up with Cal's barrage.
[New Skill Gained: Ambidexterity (E) - Novice]
[Your proficiency with Dual Wielding (E) has increased to Practiced]
Cal felt the improvements unlocking something in his mind and body alike. His off-hand grew more precise by degrees, and the two blades stopped occupying overlapping space and started dividing the field between them. The right sword took the inside line, left taking the outside. He began to up the pressure…
…and Tlaloc adapted. Cal caught the moment the man's brown eyes narrowed and his footwork tightened, the longsword chaining shorter sequences that used the shield's bloodline rotations as cover for the blade, layering his counters in time with the magical defense. It was good. Very good. The man was showing a level of skill and synergy with his bloodline that started to rival Astrin.
Cal darted in after dodging a slash from the longsword, jabbing with his right blade in a quick thrust to Tlaloc's left eye and drawing the shield up and across with a burst of Mana. As the shot met wood and steel, Cal's off-hand was already in motion. The second blade followed a heartbeat later, slipping into the opening his lead sword had created and lightly touching Tlaloc's right shoulder before another burst of Mana whipped the shield around to knock his shortsword offline.
[New Skill Gained: Staggered Strike (E) - Novice]
It worked! One beat to draw the block, and a second to punish the opening! But it's still not enough…
Tlaloc grunted and drove a shield-and-sword combination through the middle that Cal had no answer for except to bring both blades up in an X in front of his chest and take the impact. The longsword hit the crossed blades hard enough to drive him back a full yard, forearms protesting. The shock traveled down into his ribs and lit up every existing bruise, but his skull was still whole and attached.
[New Skill Gained: Cross Block (E) - Novice]
The exchange broke apart and Cal circled left, fighting the limp that wanted to lock up his thigh. An angry throb pulsed under his ribs with every breath now, while across the sand the cut on Tlaloc's cheekbone was mostly healed.
That is just cheating! Screw you, universe!
He engaged again. Tlaloc read the aggression and answered it, longsword sweeping in on a hard diagonal cut aimed at Cal's collarbone. Cal's right blade snapped up to parry, catching the longsword and turning it wide. In the instant his defense left Tlaloc's inside line exposed, his off-hand moved on its own. The left blade flicked out through the gap the parry had opened and cracked hard against the bone of Tlaloc's wrist above the sword grip.
[Your proficiency with Parry (E) has increased to Practiced]
[New Skill Gained: Riposte (E) - Novice]
His off-hand was running its own fight now. [Savant of the Body] had turned it loose, and it was hunting.
[Your proficiency with Ambidexterity (E) has increased to Practiced]
[Your proficiency with Dual Wielding (E) has increased to Adept]
The rank-ups landed like a gear catching. Two blades stopped being separate problems and became different parts of a greater whole.
There's no way I'm advancing at this speed with [Savant of the Body] alone. This is incredible! I thought it would work, but not this quickly!
Running parallel lines of attack was a cognitive load as well as physical, and something had to be helping him carry it. [Savant of the Mind], most likely. Two Impartments, working the problem from both ends. His footwork shifted to match, and he pressed into the closer measure, where his short blades were nightmares and a longsword had to fight itself for room.
Corvis had stopped calling individual exchanges. His voice had gone up half an octave and stayed there, naked disbelief replacing the arena bravado.
"I don't, folks, I don't know what to tell you. He's, this is his second minute with two blades in his hands and he's learning mid-fight, I've never seen—"
"Shut up, Corvis!" Someone from the back shouted.
Cal drove Tlaloc's shield wide using a right-hand swipe and quickly reversed, his left sword coming across from the opposite side in a closing arc as both blades converged on Tlaloc's longsword. The pincer caught the training blade between them and locked it for exactly the half beat Cal needed to punch a knee into Tlaloc's ribs.
[New Skill Gained: Scissor Cut (E) - Novice]
The man staggered back, his breath going out of him in a grunt. The shield still came up on reflex, and Cal knew without a doubt that his window was closing. Aurelian's pill helped him start fights with a clean slate, but the channel erosion was starting to get untenable. He'd lose the war of attrition.
He pressed in with rapid, alternating strikes, right sword high and left sword low. Then reversed and reversed again. The shield oscillated to answer each one, working harder than it had worked all fight. Every strike came a fraction wider than the last, the angles walking farther apart, forcing the shield's rotation to travel farther on every correction.
Sensing the time had come, Cal committed both blades at once in a simultaneous blast. He drove a modified [Sundering Strike] through each arm, channeling the empowered force down into the training blades and detonating a double strike aimed at opposite sides of Tlaloc's guard.
The lead blade in his right hand drove at Tlaloc's neck from his shield side, where [Argus Sentinel] caught it. The kite shield whipped across on its invisible rope and slammed into the blow with a crack that shook the atrium.
Cal's off-hand blade drove at Tlaloc's neck at the same time from the left. [Argus Sentinel] had committed to the first blade, and the kite shield could not be in two places at once. Tlaloc's longsword swept up to catch what the shield could not. He was fast. [Prowler's Fury] was still pushing him, and his sword arm covered the distance at speed that would have turned a normal strike. This wasn't a normal strike, however.
The longsword met the shortsword mid-flight, but Tlaloc hadn't marshaled enough Stamina behind the parry to fully answer. The longsword only nudged Cal's strike off its true line by a hair. The blunted training tip pressed a small dent into the skin just under Tlaloc's ridged jaw as Cal hauled back on his body to bring the killing strike up short. Tlaloc stared down at the sword at his throat.
[New Ability Gained: Twinned Ruin (E) - Novice]
Cal held the blade steady where it was, while his own heart was hammering hard enough to shake his ribs.
[Twinned Ruin], huh? World Soul, you taking advantage of my distraction while ending the fight? Cool name, though.
Somewhere between amusement and exasperation he almost laughed, but he had enough tact not to. He sorted the name next to [Lancing River] in the growing folder of Vox interpretations of his utilitarian intentions. Then he turned his attention back to his opponent and lowered his blade, finally releasing [Crimson Overdrive]. The instructor made a sound in his throat, half a grunt, half a bark of a laugh, and it broke the crowd's paralysis as the yard erupted. Dozens of voices went up and rolled around the atrium, only to come back down doubled.
Tlaloc took a step back in disbelief. He looked at Cal, and then he looked at the crater from round one still in the sand behind them, and then he looked at Cal again.
"That's not, that's not a legal—" His voice broke and he steadied it before trying again. "The weapon swap wasn't sanctioned. In the Circuit you can't do—"
"This isn't the Circuit, Karlsen," the instructor interrupted dryly. "This is my yard, and I say the match was fair."
Tlaloc worked his mouth as he glared at the instructor. He looked anxiously past the instructor to Nola, whose blue eyes were on Cal and hadn't moved since the fight concluded.
"I want a rematch," he said, whipping his head back to Cal. "With the spear only this time! This isn't—"
The crowd drowned him out. Someone whooped, while another was already ribbing him for losing to the "Swords from the Sticks."
Corvis finally recovered and was going full-throated.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what a match! From the spear that put a crater in the sand, to the impossible weapon swap, to what I can only describe as a martial prodigy inventing an entire fighting style in front of our eyes, this, this is going to be talked about for months! Remember the name, folks! Cal Valorn, from Deadfall Village! Keep your eyes on this one when the Bronze Circuit season opens, because I promise you—"
Oh. Oh crumb, I got too carried away, didn't I? he thought, sheepishly. This feels exactly like what Hatch warned me about… but whatever. Sounds like the worst that can happen is I'll get solicited with some nice sponsorship offers.
Tlaloc's sputtering had trailed off. He stood two yards away, chest heaving, the shield still on his forearm, the longsword hanging point-down in his right hand while the crowd continued to drown out most everything else. The frustration on his face seemed to finally collapse, replaced by a grudging acceptance.
He let out a long breath and dropped the practice sword onto the ground. "Alright," he ground out. "You earned that one. Just means I gotta work harder." He met Cal's eyes and nodded curtly. "Good fight."
Then he turned and walked off the sand without another word, leaving his sword where it lay.
The instructor crossed the sand to Cal with a big smile and started talking fast.
"Cal Valorn! I'm Hafeez Brand, master-trainer for Mirathra Central. That was an exceptional showing, son, exceptional." He barked a laugh. "Honestly, I've been running this yard for eleven years and I have never watched a man walk to the rack mid-bout and come back a swordsman. What we do here, what we offer for talent of your caliber—the private instruction, access to the atrium chambers and introductions to the sponsor houses that matter—those things are not part of the standard membership. But for the right prospect, we make—"
"Master Brand."
Nola had covered the ground without seeming to hurry, yet she was suddenly there, between Hafeez and Cal, angled just enough that Hafeez had to sidle out a step to keep his line of sight with Cal. Her smile was flawless.
"How kind of you to come over. I'm sure Cal appreciates the interest. He was introduced to the facility through the front desk this morning, so any conversation regarding sponsorship pathways or private instruction should route through my office. I'd hate for us to duplicate effort."
Hafeez's smile thinned. "Nola, he's on my sand."
"He's on your sand because I brought him."
Cal watched their petty squabble play out, as the shape of this branch of the Adventurer's Guild became clear. Every role in this building, from Hafeez's mentorship to Nola's reception, had a financial incentive running back to finding the next champion. It seemed he was the shiny prospect at the job fair, and everyone in the room was holding a business card.
"I appreciate both of your interest," he said, keeping his face pleasant. "It's a lot to take in on my first trip to Mirathra Central. I've got some obligations to see to this afternoon and need to be off."
Hafeez's smile started to crack. "Son, we really should talk about—"
"My door is always open," Nola interjected. "Here, let me escort you back out—"
"No need," Cal stated firmly. "I remember the way. I'll see myself out."
He walked past both of them toward the rack and returned the practice swords, then picked up his kit that he'd put near the wall, re-arming himself with bow, sword, quiver, and spear. Under the stares of dozens of people, he easily made his way back out of the building from memory, the brass-bound doors eventually giving way under his shoulder as he stepped out of Mirathra Central into the afternoon light of highsun.
The coliseum sat to his right, across the avenue, its white stone face washed in the light of both stars. He let his eyes travel up the tiered rings, past the arched galleries and hanging banners to the crown where he'd heard that standards of specific fighters would fly on match days. He let himself imagine standing on that sand, with thousands of voices cheering his name.
What is going on with me? Since when am I becoming a fighting nut? Sure, I've always loved live sporting events, but I was never that interested in being on the field.
He shook his head at himself and could only shrug, a slight grin tugging at his lips. In a world with swords and sorcery, dragons and dungeons, was it really that far-fetched to think a suburban dad might enjoy a little… mortal combat? Getting back to his family was paramount, but he was under no illusions that it'd be a safe road when the necessary resources had to be pulled from the bodies of the dead. In theory, he could potentially craft his way there. Veraxus, though, had a way of making everyone fight, at one point or another.
Perhaps it was better to fight in controlled settings where there was at least a chance the other party wouldn't kill him if he lost? As opposed to a monster or beast that would happily bite his face off.
Problems for tomorrow, Cal. Today, the light's burning, and I've got some bookstores to find.
He rejoined the avenue traffic, and three steps later was indistinguishable from everyone else with somewhere to be.
Happy Monday folks, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that it's a good start of the week for everyone.
The first week of my new job was simultaneously exciting and exhausting. For the next few weeks I'll be prioritizing getting the three chapters a week to Patreon, and I'm not sure what bandwidth I'll have beyond that. I knew I'd be losing time, but underestimated how mentally draining it'd all be. Progress this weekend was slower than I'm used to, but... c'est la vie. At least I'm employed, which is more than I can say for a lot of my colleagues.
Take care. I appreciate ya.
Jon