“Welcome back PEOPLLLLEE!”
The crowd exploded in cheers and whistles.
“My GOODNESS! Are you all excited from yesterday? If you are, make some NOIIIISE!”
The crowd’s roar replied to the request.
“Oh hoho, I knew you were, as am I. What will he bring in the third round? His actions will speak louder than words. Ladies and gentlemen of all races—OSWALD JAAACK!”
Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.
He smiled and waved to the audience above the high wall of the fighting ground.
“In the other corner—fire is his PASSION. Fire is his RAGE. Fire is what he INSTRUCTS and fire is in his NAME. Please stand up for Thorne IRONFLAAAAAME!”
What?! I’m facing him!
The burly fire instructor strode to the middle where Oswald stood, his orange and red battleaxes—sheathed behind his back—glistened under the sun.
The two met at the center of the arena.
“H-Hello there, Mr. fire instructor.”
“Heh. No time for pleasantries. Show me, candle, how you fare against the sun?”
Oswald readied his sword. “Yes, sir!”
I gotta be serious, can’t joke around him.
“Good.” The burly instructor released his battleaxes from his back. “I hope you trained before your arrival.”
Trained? I just came after eating good elven food.
“By the looks, you haven’t.”
Wow! Read me like a book.
“Well… I would love to excuse, but... in front of you, I can’t.”
A smile crossed his beard. “Very good. You understand my tutelage well.”
Oswald sheepishly nodded.
Nope, I’m pissing my pants here… Metaphorically, of course.
DING!
CLANK!
The burly instructor dashed toward him, Oswald blocked one of the axes.
What?! What spee—
The second axe slashed side-ways toward his head.
With all his might, he shoved the first axe away—WHOOSH—neck jolted back to dodge the second, a hair’s length away. He staggered a few steps back.
Damn I—
The instructor brought both of his axes down, few meters away before he blinked.
SHIT!
He blocked the axes—and yet.
IT WENT THROUGH MY SWORD!
Like a knife through butter, the axes sliced through his sword.
WHOOSH! THUD!
Oswald barely dodged out of the way as the axes slammed the ground, clouding the instructor in dust. He looked at the stump in his hand.
“Well, grea—”
The instructor already stood before him, bringing his axe down.
WHOOSH!
Oswald side-stepped the first, the second one coming right after.
FUCK! TOO SLOW!
CLANK!
He caught the axe with his gauntlet-covered hands, gritting his teeth—the iron plate on his palm shattered on impact.
The weight transitioned him from standing to kneeling.
Damn! Look at him. He means… BUSINESS!
He shoved the axe upward and rolled clear, grabbing a handful of sand as he went.
“Alright teach—”
The instructor slashed one of the axes diagonally before Oswald’s sentence could end.
WHOOSH!
He dodged the first.
How are you gonna hit me…
He clenched his fist, trickles of sand seeping through his fingers.
WHOOSH!
When you can’t SEE!
The sand splashed on the instructor’s face, blinding him as he grunted.
“… I don’t have a cool line to SAY!”
THUD!
Oswald punched the side of the instructor’s face, but it didn’t move an inch.
CRACK!
The sound came from the arm he punched with.
“AHH!”
He doubled over, intense pain shot through his shattered arm, dangling by his side like a marionette. He gritted his teeth, a groan escaped him.
“This is… way worse than— AH! A goblin’s… club.”
Oh no, the pain… It’s getting to my head.
He looked up at the standing instructor—his face getting blurry.
“Hey mister… instructor. What a… an amazing… figh— Ah!”
The pain enveloped his entire self, tears fell in a steady flow from his eyes.
“I think…” He inhaled through his nose. “I feel… light-headed…”
The strings were cut and he fell, pain sending him to unconsciousness.
The instructor caught him before he hit the ground, his eyes closed.
“Hm. Handled an overpowered scenario with a counter strategy. Despite everything…” He opened his eyes. “…the fire within him is still small.”
* * *
Swordsman School of Training, meeting room, hours after the duel.
“I am firmly convinced he possesses the potential…”
Garrick interlocked his fingers on the table, his gauntlet glistening in the lantern light at the table's center.
“He has the potential to join our ranks as a captain.”
Thorne pulled at his beard.
“If today’s duel told me anything—his fire needs kindling.”
Seraphina chuckled behind her palm.
“Dios mío, he dances well. I haven’t had this much fun since that day with you.” She gestured at Garrick.
A young man’s snicker turned the heads of all three toward him.
“You claim you have not experienced amusement in quite some time.”
His diamond armor glistened, the captains’ faces reflecting from its polished surface.
“Pray tell, what sort of dull and uninspired combat you practice? To call it ‘entertaining’ only after a student duel is, quite frankly, pathetic.”
Before Garrick’s rebuttal could escape him, CRASH! Thorne slammed the table and stood up.
“Speak respectfully, boy! I’m appalled you’re among our ranks. You lack even an ember within you!”
The young man’s snicker transitioned into a cackle.
“Don’t talk to me about your flames… For only the cold… can douse them.”
Ice crystals glistened on the lantern as an icy mist released from his sword’s hilt. The lantern flame flickered, then died out, leaving a trail of smoke.
* * *
The skill menu opened before our hero with a shattered arm.
SKILLS SP: 53
STRENGTH 158
“strengthen the arms” to increase the strength, both physical and magical.
DEFENSE 58
“Toughen up the body” to increase the physical and magical defense.
PERCEPTION 100 (MAX)
“Good with the eyes” to increase the observation, perception, and intuition.
SPEED 337
“Quick on the feet” to increase the speed and stamina.
Holy! He was strong. I… I need to get these numbers, boy. Jeeesus! Should I get defense or uh, strength…? Defense… “toughen up the—” yeah! Therefore, EGGS! Into the basket you go.
Current Skills
SKILLS SP: 0
STRENGTH 158
“strengthen the arms” to increase the strength, both physical and magical.
DEFENSE 111
“Toughen up the body” to increase the physical and magical defense.
PERCEPTION 100 (MAX)
“Good with the eyes” to increase the observation, perception, and intuition.
SPEED 337
“Quick on the feet” to increase the speed and stamina.
* * *
“Mm… Haaah.”
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Man… I’m back at the guest room, aren’t I?”
Still rubbing his eyes, he adjusted himself on the quarters’ bed—comfortable as he shifted.
“Yep, I am.”
He opened his eyes, taking in the familiar white ceiling.
“Haaah. Remind me not to have a fight with the fire instructor—arm on the left here would appreciate that…”
He gestured at his left hand.
“…I say to no one as she isn’t present.”
He turned his head leftward, an empty space where the violet-haired maid usually lay.
“Where is she…? Eh, probably off on servant business.”
He got off the bed and stretched.
“I think…” He pinched his chin. “I think an upgrade is in order—cheaping out got my sword sliced through. For that, I probably have to spend all the moneys.”
He wore his armor—the shattered metal plate on his left palm, leaving only leather beneath. He strapped the coin pouch around his waist like a belt and looked around for his sword.
“Haaah. Good thing RPGs don’t exist in real life. I mean, I’m living it right now—it’s a pain in the ass.”
With a click of the quarters’ white door, he left the room and the castle’s premises.
* * *
“Haaah.” The blacksmith lady sighed, her cheek resting on her fist as she drummed her fingers on the counter.
DING!
The door’s chime perked her up, looking at the door.
“Hello there, Ms. Blacksmith lady.” He waved, walking toward the counter. “I’ve come to request your services.”
“Haha. I think I already know what they are.”
“Haaah.” He sighed, head hanging low. “So you were watching. Anyways…”
THUD! JINGLE!
“…I don’t care what material it is or how expensive. All I want is mobility with my armor and a sword that can’t be sliced through.”
She dipped her head. “Aight, let’s get this started.”
Started she did, hammering away as he browsed the assortment of weapons displayed along the wall.
Whoa! This is sick! It’s like weapons from RPG games.
An emerald broadsword with a ruby hilt, two amethyst-bladed daggers with pre-applied poison, and an actual flaming Chinese Dao—fire like an aura around its blade, illuminating the weapons around it.
He pointed at the flaming sword. “HEY! HOW MUCH DOES THIS COST?”
The hammering paused. “See how it looks foreign, all that heat dancin’ ’round the blade? That’s every gold you carryin’, sugar.”
“Wow…” he replied, the price not quite sinking in.
Should’ve bought this instead.
“Mm-hmm, all that gold sittin’ up in that coin sack for that baby.”
Huh.
“That’s goo— ALL OF IT!” His voice cracked at his yell.
“Hahaha.” The blacksmith lady held her stomach, laughing. “I’m only kiddin’, it’s just seventy-five. Watching you all lost like that is adorable.”
“Huh? How’s that adorable?” He scratched the side of his eye. “Man, now I feel I’ll be easily swindled by the moon in my life.”
“Ooo, is that what you’re callin’ her?”
He nodded. “Yep, that’s what I am calling her…”
She hammered on until his gear was finished.
“Whoa! Is this…” He touched the breastplate of his new armor, see-through like glass.
“Indeed, honey. This is diamond!”
“DIAMOND! And this…” Under the diamond plating, chainmail provided mobility. He touched the chainmail. “What! How is this so light?” Despite all that metal, it felt like wearing normal clothes—even with the diamond’s weight.
“That’s titanium, baby.”
Ti— Ti— “Titanium! I thought it’d be something like… I don’t know, ‘Iron Maiden’s Heart’. Also this sword…” The sword was dark, almost black, with a purple sheen visible at certain angles. “Is this obsidian?”
The blacksmith lady sat in her chair, cleaning her face. “Mm-hmm, correct! Not even my husband’s axes can cut through that.”
Okay…
He nodded silently.
Okay. That’s great. It solves all the problems of weapon piercing the gear.
“Thank you, blacksmith lady. I want to say more, but I gotta run.”
He sheathed his obsidian sword and headed for the exit. “See you later!”
The door chimed and he left for the arena.
* * *
Oh man, who am I fighting today? Who are the other two?
He walked on the same street—before the fruit stand and the turn that led toward the two impoverished demi-human boys.
“Man, I really don’t want to go unconscious today. That way I can celebrate with the boys and walk back to my only home—the inn.”
Before turning onto the street, he gave a courteous nod to the llama.
“There he is!”
The familiar voice made him look ahead at the two rapidly approaching figures. Oswald’s eyes widened.
“Wait! You two!”
The fox-eared boy wore a cleric’s outfit and the bear wore a farmer’s. The two jumped around him, giggling.
“Look at us, sir! We are farmer and a cleric!”
Oswald blinked profusely before words finally escaped.
“Wow, uh… that’s… that’s amazing!” He pinched his chin. “A farmer and a cleric, huh.”
The fox nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes. We did what you said, and we also gave back.”
Their words pierced his heart, and Oswald inhaled deeply.
Oh my goodness, I’m gonna tear up.
After a deep breath, he chuckled, then laughed. “Then my job here… is done.”
He walked past the puzzled boys with a wave. “See you two when you’re in an even better circumstance.”
Behind them, both bowed.
“Thank you, sir.” His words paused his exit.
The fox nodded while bowing. “We are indebted to you.”
Oswald looked ahead, a single tear glistening on his cheek. “If you feel that way… then I release you… from all debt.” He inhaled deeply again. “I have to leave.”
He strode away and vanished around the corner.
“He really left quickly.”
The fox dipped his head. “Yeah, mama talked about this.”
The bear gazed upward. “Oh, yeah… A good person can’t stay where they’ve done their good.”
* * *
“SHIT! I’m late!”
The student’s corner door stood open, no one standing before it.
He skidded to a stop, then entered the armory hallway leading to the fighting ground.
“Damn it! The gear-making took all the time and—”
GROWL!
“I KNOW! I skipped breakfast on the equipment run. FUCK! I keep on giving but when do I take… food. Like bro, how are you gonna face a captain on an empty stomach?”
He rubbed his temple, pacing around the armory—a wide range of chipped melee weapons lined the wall.
“I’m screwed… I’m so screwe—”
“Ladies and gentlemen! With yesterday’s display, who is ready for another ROUUUND!”
Muffled cheering and whistling sounded through the door.
“I’m not! I’m not!”
“Oh, the crowd answered. Student, what will you show us today—for your second-to-last fight. Come out OSWALD JAAAACK!”
The door creaked open, the cheering and whistling burst in.
Just like the Penguins, just smile and wave, but…
GROWL!
“Yep, on cue.”
“In the other corner, the captain of the Royal Guard…”
THE ROYAL GUARD!
“…from a bloodline of assassins spanning generations…”
They’re an ASSASSIN!
“Trained in the butlerian arts since childhood.”
Wait what?!
“Ladies and gentlemen, THE MAID OF SOLARA PRIIIIIIME!”
Who—
“WHAAAAAAAT!”
From the captains corner, walking out toward the center—was the violet-haired maid, the very same taking care of him.
“Hu— Wha— I— What? Um—You…”
He pointed at her, his words dying. She dipped her head, a few meters away from him.
“Indeed, I am the Royal Captain.”
“I—What the fu— How can a maid—” He rubbed his forehead. “The reveal… has fried my brain.”
GROWL!
And my stomach as well. Thank you crowd for hiding that.
“Is it just my perception? Or have your muscles reduced around your neck and cheeks?”
WHAT?!
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Gulp. That uh. Psh, it’s nothing.” He waved his hand. “Happens all the time, don’t make it hinder our duel.”
Happens all the time, my ass.
“I see…”
DING!
The bell rang.
The very next moment, he saw a reflection of his eyes—and the sand behind him.
Sand? Behind me?
His body moved faster than his mind—he limboed under the maid's piercing attack.
WHOOSH!
After she passed him, skidding to a stop behind him.
He straightened himself.
“WAH!”
THUD!
The excessive momentum thrust him forward, burying his face in the sand.
GROWL!
YOU AREN’T HELPING!
He jumped to his feet, slapping sand off his face.
CLANK!
In one swoop, his sword’s flat side blocked another piercing attack. His arms trembled as she pushed against his sword, his words coming through gritted teeth.
“I have… a question…”
He shoved her dagger back.
CLANK!
Another attack followed, which he blocked.
“Do I… still have sand… on my face?”
“No.”
Wow, she actually replied! I thought wasn’t gonna get—AN ANSWER!
He shoved her dagger away, and slashed his sword horizontally.
CLANK!
The maid parried his sword, kicking his waist.
WHOOSH!
He sidestepped one leg, then another, then another, then a dagger—all whooshing by. He ducked under her second leg from a roundhouse kick, then blocked the dagger.
Holy flurry of atta— Wait! Her eyes are pink!
He dashed away from her daggers swipe—leaving a plume of dust—pointing at her.
“Are you okay? Your eyes are pink.”
She didn’t answer.
I guess she—
CLANK!
He blocked again, both pushing their weapons against each other.
Holy speed bro!
She dropped the dagger, caught it with her other hand below.
Whoa!
CLAP!
He clasped her newly dagger-equipped hand.
She launched into a backflip kick.
WHOOSH!
Her foot whizzed past his nose, instinctively unhanding her.
She completed her flip, sharp eyes locked in for another attack.
WAIT! Her eyes are now red—
BOOM!
A shockwave geysered up the sand behind her. In a blink.
WHOOSH!
His eyes widened as a dagger’s tip whizzed by the eyes, only a few meters away a second ago
Too close. So ver—
He jumped her leg sweep.
Close!
She twisted her body to deliver a kick to his torso.
He blocked her kick with his sword and swept at her legs, but she rolled away.
CLANK!
He blocked her piercing attack.
WHAT!? SHE WAS JUS—
CLANK!
ROLLING!
Then he noticed, her eyes had no iris, a full white orb instead of the fiery red iris.
What.
CLANK!
Kind.
CLANK!
Of.
CLANK!
Horror movie.
CLANK!
Ass.
CLANK!
Shit.
CLANK!
IS THIS!
CLANK!
The last hit, the maid’s dagger slid off his sword to his right—a clean parry. He shoulder-checked her, putting her off-balance.
CLANK!
She regained her balance in a blink and blocked his thrust. Then he blinked again—gone.
What?! Where did she go?
The nape of his neck seared.
Behind me!
He skidded to look behind him.
Black ey—
BOOM!
She dashed toward him, a pillar of sand behind her. A vapor cone formed around her dagger as she approached at blinding speed. Her whole eyes nothing but black.
The world slowed down, her sonic speed akin to someone running normally.
What? What’s happening?
He looked around him, everything moved at a snail’s pace. He rotated his own hands, opening and closing his fists, moving at a normal pace.
Am I? Moving fast? Speed Force type… shit…
His gaze slowly shifted to the approaching freight train—that is the maid.
I can dodge her but…Haaah. I shouldn’t.
He shook his head.
Too overpowered. I mean, I’m supposed to be a student, I’m not supposed to achieve feats like that, but… Haaah.
He sighed, closing his eyes.
This is gonna hurt.
As if this newfound power was an innate part of him, he turned it off.
The last thing his mind registered: sparks, red liquid spraying from his chainmail—then darkness.
* * *
The skill menu opened before our famished hero.
SKILLS SP: 50
STRENGTH 165
“strengthen the arms” to increase the strength, both physical and magical.
DEFENSE 131
“Toughen up the body” to increase the physical and magical defense.
PERCEPTION 100 (MAX)
“Good with the eyes” to increase the observation, perception, and intuition.
SPEED 360
“Quick on the feet” to increase the speed and stamina.
Haaah… I got nothing. I mean, I fought her on an empty stomach, attacked at the speed of sound, so… Haaah. I must’ve looked like a skeleton. It’s crazy but, did I just… burst my muscles stopping her? Eeesh, that’s not a pretty image. I wonder—side-tangently so—how that raccoon demi-human is doing? Has he gotten the fruits from Ms. Applegate? Well, I hope I wasn’t wrong about her. I can only pray.... Right. Time to meet the good ol’ guest room ceiling… or the ceiling of a hospital ward—if she finds my presence irritating, I know I would. Also, enough Speed, time to balance with Strength.
Current Skills
SKILLS SP: 0
STRENGTH 215
“strengthen the arms” to increase the strength, both physical and magical.
DEFENSE 131
“Toughen up the body” to increase the physical and magical defense.
PERCEPTION 100 (MAX)
“Good with the eyes” to increase the observation, perception, and intuition.
SPEED 360
“Quick on the feet” to increase the speed and stamina.
* * *
His eyes fluttered open.
GROWL!
WOW! Good morning to you too!
He rubbed his eyes, then looked up at the ceiling.
Wow, I’m back at the castle. Hello, ceiling!
He inhaled through his nose, catching the rich aroma of foods.
“HOLY SHIT!”
He sat upright, his head snapping to his right, finding an assortment of food on plates on a silver cart.
“What?! Bro… I-I can’t name the dishes, all I see is chicken, chicken and rice, steak and… is that strawberry cake? And others. Are they all…?”
He pointed at himself. “Are they all for me? Damn, I guess she found out. Welp.”
CLAP!
He brought his palms together, closing his eyes.
“Lord, thank you for making me a giver, and for the reward. Amen.” He bowed slightly.
“Alright, let’s dig in! As they say.”
He ate the food before him, each bite—juicy, flavorful and simply exquisite. When he finished, only stains remained on the plates.
“I can’t explain the food I just ate. All I can say is… SO GOOD! Bro, bro, brother, I— Haaah.”
He sighed, rubbing his temple.
“It’s just… it’s been a weird experience. Fighting the captains, getting stronger each time I wake up, and eating food fit for royalty. Is this… what I truly want? When do I tell them who I truly am and… how do I go back to my world…?”
As his thoughts trailed off, the door opened.
“It seems you have finished all of it.” the maid said from the open doorway.
“Yep, i-it was… amazing! I mean, it was… I got no words, it’s that great!”
She lowered her head, eyes closed, “I am glad to hear that.”
He stood up, wiping his hand with a handkerchief provided alongside the plates.
“Before you leave…” She looked at him with a stern gaze.
Oh boy, I know that look.
“Why didn’t you eat prior to our duel?”
“Well, you see… I didn’t find you here yesterday, and after losing my weapon the day before, I decided to go to the blacksmith to get some upgrades. All the time for food was taken up by the upgrade a-and that’s why I couldn’t eat. B-But hey…”
He pointed at the stained plates. “At least the reward for all that was food. So, all’s well that ends well.”
“I see…”
Phew… She’s satisfied.
“…though I ask you never do that again.”
Huh?
“Oh uh, y-yes. Yes, I won’t.”
You were worried… Thank you.
He donned his armor, sheathed his sword, and left for the arena—one last time.
* * *
Since all my opponents were nice, I imagine my last one will be an asshole. Y’know, can’t have me fighting all the nice people—that’d be toooo cliché.
He laughed, walking on the same street past the fruit stand and the turn before the two demi-human children.
Oh my goodness! Let me guess, let me guess—I’m fighting… a rich noble who’s an asshole. WAIT! Even better, a pompous general with many titles—but still an asshole.
In his thought, he said his greetings to the llama and turned inward around a rhino beastman pulling a cart filled with watermelons—the watermelons forming a pyramid.
Whoa! I wonder if I could sit on that pyrami—
“Hello, sir!”
A familiar voice broke his train of thought. He looked ahead, seeing a crowd of demi-humans, blocking the footpath. Among them stood a tall woman with sleek black panther ears beside a white panther-eared man wearing stone mason's attire, a hunched, horse-eared old woman leaning on a cane, along with the familiar bear-eared boy in farmer's attire and the fox-eared boy in cleric's robes.
Oswald's eyes widened.
“What the… What’s going on here?”
His head swiveled from left to right and back again.
The bear-eared boy glanced at the group beside him. “You gave us and told us to share. And so we did.”
The horse-eared old lady walked forward with the help of her stick. “Sunny, in this kingdom here, where we’re so often overlooked, set aside, and left out… you…” She pointed her stick at him. “Others may have lent a hand, but yours… yours meant a heap more.”
She bowed slightly, as much as her back would let her. “Me, and all the folks, we surely do appreciate you tendin’ to the young’uns… plantin’ that good seed for what’s to come.”
A soft, overwhelmed laugh escaped him. He broke eye contact, doing his best to hold back tears.
“I uh—Ahem—appreciate that I could help… all of you with um… Ahem.” He cleared his throat again, preventing his voice from cracking. “Two gold and I…”
He inhaled deeply, still avoiding eye contact.
Hold it in, Oswald. Hold it in.
He let out a silent whistle. “I h-hope that grows into… a village or a town…” He bowed. “Thank you!” then straightened. “Now, if you’ll… excuse me. I-I have to head to the arena for my last fight.”
The fox-eared boy nodded profusely. “We would like to accompany you to your final duel.”
Sounds of agreement—‘Yes,’ ‘Of course,’ and similar—rose from the group.
Man…
He inhaled sharply.
I need a room.
“S-Sure.” Oswald nodded.
And so—well, you know where he goes next, right? You don’t need me to say it again, do you?
* * *
He blinked at the source of the hubbub—a massive crowd gathered outside the arena.
“Now we know where that’s coming from.”
He jumped up repeatedly, trying to see over the crowd. In his leap, he saw a group of guards forming a wall near the audience entrance and student’s corner door. He turned around, looking at the demi-human group.
“I guess I’m leaving you people here.”
The horse-eared old lady waved her hand. “Don’t worry about us, Sunny. Go on ahead.”
“Right. Goodbye everyone.”
As he turned around, the bear-eared and fox-eared boy waved.
“Good luck!”
“I pray for your victory.”
He began squeezing through the crowd.
“Coming through! Contestant here! Phew, almost stepped on your tail! Make room! Damn, you look nice— I-I mean, let me pass!”
By squeezing through and apologizing nonstop, he reached the wall of guards, where his friends stood waiting behind it.
What are they doing there?
He looked at the guard in front of him. “Hello, there! I’m a contestant, Oswald Jack.”
The guard’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Right this way!”
An opening was made for him, and he walked through.
“Good morrow, mine own friend. How fare thee this day?”
“Doing great, but… Who are these for? The queen? And how are you here instead of in the crowd?”
Korrin gave a knowing nod. “Pretty sure when I rocked up early, there were already a few people around. I was hangin’ by the line of guards. One of ’em clocked me and asked my name. I told him, he waved me through, and here I am.”
“Same happened t’me. Ya think they got a list or something?”
“Even so with me. Methinks only we, thy friends, are permitted to pass.”
A VIP list?
After his train of thought, a fanfare of trumpets sounded around them—similar to the arrival of monarchs in medieval movies. The hubbub quieted, everyone faced the source. Far away and through the street, an opulent blue carriage, pulled by a wingless, blue-scaled baby wyvern—a horse-sized dragon—surrounded by a box of guards.
The carriage stopped before them, and the wall of guards parted, clearing a path to the student’s corner door.
The Queen with her magenta braided hair and robe alongside the violet-haired maid, exited the carriage. Oswald and his friends knelt down.
Jesus Christ, that entrance. Secondly, boy the tension in the air. Thirdly—
“I bid you good luck.”
Oswald looked up and saw the queen smiling. “T-Thank your majesty, with your good luck, I-I know I won’t lose.”
“Heheh.” She chuckled behind her palm. “I am sure you won’t.”
Her Majesty and the maid passed their knelt forms and entered a doorway leading to the audience seats.
“Haaah. Man,” he sighed, standing, “I thought I was going to crumble.”
“Ya ain’t wrong, she’s got that presence.”
On cue, the door to the student’s corner opened.
“I guess, they were waiting for her.”
“We shall leave thee unto thine own self. Good fortune attend thee in thy duel.”
With a nod and a wave, Oswald entered the armory, leaving his friends to go to the audience seats.
* * *
“FOLKS! Today… is the final day of Student against the Captains. What journey has it been—isn’t that RIGHT?”
The audience exploded with cheers and whistles, their reply.
“Amazing. You know what else is amazing? The student! This man right here—that’s right, MAN! Only one among many, one who raised their hand up while others kept it down, one who has battled all our captains, and fought them until his last strength. Enough flattery! Come forth, OSWALD JAAACK!”
Enough flattery? W-What do you mean? Give me more!
He ran to the center of the sandy fighting ground, smiling and waving at the audience seated above the high wall.
“In the other CORNER! Our last captain to fight against our star. A nobleman turned captain, their nobility spanning 230 years, and the record for unlocking their skill in twelve hits. Ladies and gentlemen, Percival MONTCLAAAAAIR!”
The captain’s corner door opened.
Ah, my eyes.
He rubbed his eyes from the light reflecting off the full-diamond armor worn by Percival. He lowered his hands from his eyes.
Oh no! His walk, his every step is… looking down at me.
His hands met his temple.
Oh— O-Oh no, it is a noble, who is an asshole.
Percival postured to the middle where Oswald stood, stopping a few feet from him. A scoff escaped Percival’s nose.
“So you are the one who bested— No, ‘bested’ isn’t the correct word for you.” He smirked. “Survived, is.”
Hoo boy. How do I even approach him?
“Yeah. I did… do that. Yes. It is I.”
Okay, currently all me. Not too main charactery.
“Haha. Ahahaha!”
Percival cackled, his neck craning upward. After that, he inhaled through his nose, looking him in the eyes.
“Pitiful.”
Yeah, well, so is your mannerisms.
Percival placed his hand on his chest—only fingertips touched, no palms.
“I, Percival Montclair, rightful heir to the Montclair lineage…”
No! A Monologue! I thought they were fictional!
“…a house that has endured for over two hundred and thirty years in steadfast service to its people.”
I really want to be an asshole and interrupt with smugness but—I’m getting lore.
“For generations, my family has served the Mother Plains, its surrounding villages, and their successive leaders with unwavering loyalty.”
Sounds nothing like the person before me.
“With me as the Lord, no one shall stand in our land without paying a hefty tax.”
…What?
Oswald blinked profusely. “I am confusion. Your family sounds like what any good, noble… noble does. But ou…” He pointed at him. “You’re putting a hefty tax on people? Where did your family go wrong with you?”
His question hit the mark. Percival's eye twitched, then his breathing quickened, his hands trembled—the shakiness increasing in intensity.
SHING!
“SILENCE!!!” Percival released his fully diamond sword, the plus-shaped cross-guard glistening under the sun. “The arena exists for combat, not for your trivial quips.”
WHAT?! Hypocrite!
“Heh. You stand far beneath to speak before me. Now, ready your stick.”
Oswald’s mouth was left agape. I am beyond offended, livid. He let out a silent whistle.
SHING!
Calm yourself, man. They only exist… to be whopped.
DING!
The bell’s ring echoed in the open sky.
After the bell rang, Oswald began to shiver.
What?!
He looked at his shaky palms, a misty breath escaped his lips.
Cold? Under the summer sun?
His gaze fell behind his palms, at the sand, seeing mist—enveloping his legs. He traced the mist’s source—the cross-guard of Percival’s diamond sword.
I see. He’s an ice user.
THUD!
Percival struck his sword on the ground.
What?
Then the sound of glass crunching under boots enveloped him. The ice crystals in the mist joined together, forming a semi-circle of ten giant icebergs around Percival—floating, their sharp tips looking at Oswald.
Oh, no—
The icebergs were hurled.
“Whoa!”
WHOOSH! BOOM!
He ran from his spot as two icebergs whizzed past—exploding in a loud crash. The rest followed him, barely hitting from his dodges, ducks, dips, and dives.
Too focused on the icebergs.
THUD!
“Oof!”
Oswald didn’t see the crude pillar of ice blocking his path, making him fall on his butt.
“What?! When did this—”
The skin of his throat seared with sudden heat.
“OH SHIT!”
He scurried off his butt.
BOOM!
The pillar of ice was punched through from the middle, shards propelled forward with the fist that knocked the pillar.
Was that an ice golem?!
Ice bricks—long and short—had formed a hulking ice golem, its body and movements akin to a gorilla. Two uneven orbs jutted from a small, roughly rectangular block of ice—its head—and turned to look at him.
“Gotta run!”
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The ground beneath shook as the ice golem gave chase.
WHOOSH!
“HOLY!!!”
His abrupt pause almost stumbled him forward. The reason—a hurled iceberg shooting by.
His head shot toward Percival, who smirked, more floating icebergs at the ready.
Asshole—
WHOOSH!
His train of thought was cut off by earth-shaking footsteps of the golem chasing him—multiplied.
Multiplied?!
He looked behind him.
“OH SHIT!”
Instead of one, thirteen more gave chase.
What the fuck, man! An ice skill is meant for shooting ice shards, freezing opponents, and forming an ice tornado. NOT environment manipulation, ice necromancy and—
“WHOA!”
WHOOSH!
He ducked under another iceberg, crashing a few meters from his position.
“OH, WHAT THE FUCK, BRO!”
His profanity was for a rough wall of ice forming in real-time—as tall as a two-story building and as wide as the audience stands of the arena.
“He’s cornering me, THE BITCH!”
Every escape route—to his left and right—was blocked by the ice wall. He skidded to a stop, his hand meeting the ice-cold wall—cornering the cat.
He turned around.
More than thirteen ice golems looked at him mockingly, a score of sharp tips of the giant icebergs stared at their prey, and among them all—Percival. Him and his minions—living and non-living—slowly walked toward Oswald.
Okay, okay! This is fine. Extremely fine. I’m cornered… like a bajillion other heroes—real and fiction—in my situation. Am I going to die? Or… there’s a miracle within me that would save me from all this… Within me… within me… w-within me?
Why are those two words sticking.... WAIT!
His mind flashing back to the second day of the swordsman training school—dummy-hitting for unlocking elemental skill, associated with one’s nature.
WHOOSH!
Back to present. MY FIRE SKILL!
He straightened himself, his back leaving the icy wall. His free hand met the hilt, both grips tightened.
And—nothing.
Well uh, I know my skill. How the fuck do I activate it?
Percival scoffed, shaking his head—him and his minions’ advance paused by his assertive display, then continued.
Umm… Ah… Fuck! Right after the big reveal that displayed my upper hand. Think, man. Think!
His eyes fell on the hilt of Percival’s sword—releasing icy mist like a smoke machine.
Okay… the hilt is spewing ice so…
His gaze shifted from Percival’s cross-guard to his obsidian sword’s hilt.
How do I release my fire…? Maybe, I…
He shook his head. I don’t know, man. I’m just gonna try some bullshit, let’s hope it works.
He closed his eyes, taking many deep breaths.
It’s always focus on something. Therefore, focus on the hilt it is.
His vision dark, but his ears heard the enclosing enemies, earth-shaking thuds ever increasing in intensity. Within the darkness behind his eyelids, a speck of fire glimmered. The speck began to expand and expand until fire enveloped the darkness of his closed eyes.
FWOOSH!
A sudden spike of heat washed through his body, gathering in his hands.
“HOLY SHIT!”
From his sword erupted a column of fire that reached high—almost crossing Percival’s wall.
Percival craned his neck upward, eyes widening at the tower of fire—beginning to melt the ice wall and dissipating the mist around Oswald.
“What in the Goddess?!”
Oswald’s gaze shot at Percival.
“IT’S PAYBACK TIME!”
He aimed his sword above Percival, melting the iceberg at the apex—subsequent icebergs and golems followed suit, melting into puddles and pools of water.
“YES! YE-HEHE-ES!”
Percival looked around him, his minions gone.
“How? How did you?”
THUD!
Oswald collapsed on his knees, droplets of sweat falling by his hands. Percival shook his head, walking toward him.
“Haaah. I must truly discipline myself to cease being swayed by your ‘emergence’ of power. It is beyond comprehension that those jesters—calling themselves ‘captains’—fell to you.”
He stood before Oswald’s kneeling form.
“Your talents of persuasion belong on a stage, not a battlefield—”
THUD!
Percival’s left cheek met the ground as someone yanked his arm from behind, and a weight settled on his back.
“In order to deceive someone—one must deceive themself… end quote, hyphen Oswald.”
He quoted, knee weighing on Percival’s back.
“How?”
Oswald gave a nod.
“I got you. So, when I was knocked down…”
Few moments ago.
THUD!
Oswald fell on his knees—hands on the sandy floor, facing it—droplets of sweat falling by his hands.
“Haaah… Haaah… Haaah.”
Yes! He’s monologing again! Thank you, Fire Skill, for giving me real sweat… really—I’m drenched beneath the armor… YES! He’s walking toward me! I knew his arrogant ass would do this. Now, it’s time to do the hero’s turnabout.
WHOOSH!
Back to present, with Oswald’s knee on top of Percival’s back.
“Just like that, I’m sitting on top of you and—”
The crowd exploded in cheers and whistles, many colored flowers thrown into the fighting ground.
“WHAT AN UPSET! Ahem. What an upset! What an amazing upset! You saw my excitement and I see yours. Ladies and gentlemen of all races, the competition’s victor—OSWALD JAAACK! I need… I need to sit down and applause—without yelling.”
Oswald released his knee from Percival’s back, extending his hand.
“Accept the help, man. I and the others will despise you for being an asshole—No, let me rephrase that. I and the others will despise you for being impudent, pompous, and other words that imply lack of decency at face value. And despite all that, I respectfully enjoyed that fight. Before I continue, what say you?”
Percival looked at this extended hand, then lowered his gaze to the ground as his sins flashed before his mind. He let out a silent whistle, his head hanging low.
“Let us say, for the sake of clarity, that this duel… served as an unexpected but necessary… awakening.”
CLAP!
Percival accepted his hand—Oswald pulled him up.
“Now that our hands are clasped together. I, Oswald, accept you into the Mary Band of Idiots.”
“Mary Band of Idiots? I want no part—”
“A- A- A.” He wagged his finger. “Too late, my noble friend. The pact only required the clasp of the hand and… I’m seeing a clasped hand.”
“Haaah. This is punishment for my conduct, is it?”
“Yesn’t. Look, don’t worry about it. After all, you are forgiven of all—”
ROOOAR!
A booming roar pierced the cheery and redemption atmosphere of the arena, shooting everyone’s gazes at the sky. Shortly after, black infant wyverns—horse-sized—filled the sky, covering it.
“Wait a moment, what is that?” Percival pointed.
Oswald followed his gaze, finding what he meant. His eyes widened, mouth agape.
Even larger than the infant wyverns clogging the sky, a massive black dragon flew among them.
###
