[Deus Terra] Chapter 25: K.S.T. - First Bout. (Patreon)

With the referee’s announcement, the match begins. Eliot watches as the mercenary man, Jiv, wastes no time in enhancing his body with prana and charges directly towards the farmer, Arthur.

Arthur holds his longsword in front of himself in a readied stance, waiting for his opponent to come to him as his prana starts flowing through his body. Eliot turns his head for a moment when he hears a few surprised gasps from the people around him. Even he can feel it. The intensity of Arthur’s energy takes everyone by surprise, but he sees Sir Samuel looking down to the fight with focused eyes, so he does the same.

Just in time, too, because he didn’t miss Jiv getting a small pouch from his pocket and throwing it directly at Arthur as he runs. The younger man reacts quickly and slashes the pouch in the air with a swift swing, but that turned out to be the wrong choice.

When the blade slices the pouch, a sort of purple powder comes out and spreads into the air. It creates something like a purple smoke cloud around them, blocking everyone’s view, including the combatants.

“Arthur will be easy to find.” Sir Samuel comments.

Yes, Eliot realized that too. The signal coming from Jiv’s soul is faint, but it’s impossible not to notice Arthur’s. Even if Jiv attacks with his eyes closed in that cloud, he’ll still be able to find him.

The sound of clashing blades echoes around the arena once, then twice. Then, the loud sound of metal snapping.

“?” Everyone is curious what that sound was, and they soon get their answer.

With a long jump backwards that covers five more meters, Arthur is out of the smoke cloud. However, in his hand is no longer a longsword, but only the handle and half its cross guard.

The young fighter looks at it, aghast. His mouth opened in shock and his hand gripping what’s left of his sword so tightly his fist shakes. He’s been unarmed.

“You picked a guy that can’t even take care of his equipment properly, Samuel?” Sir Kain asks, seeing the scene before him as everyone else.

Sir Samuel, however, shakes his head. “This is strange. That sword was in good condition when he used it yesterday. It was old and chipped because of a recent battle, but it wouldn’t be enough to make snap like that, certainly not from the cross guard.”

“Well, whatever the case, your guy is unarmed now. What will he do?”

“…” Sir Samuel doesn’t answer. His eyes say that he’s just as curious about that as the general.

***

When his mother first gave him this sword, he was disappointed. Immensely so. He would’ve rather a new, shiny sword instead of his mother’s old one. However, his mind told him it was fine because he got it for free, it was sturdy and even made of steel instead of the more common and cheaper iron that was used around the kingdom. Even so, he longed for the moment he could buy himself a new, better sword.

Only now does he realize he was wrong.

Seeing the broken and disjointed hilt in his hand, his chest tightens and he pathetically almost feels like crying, but he bites his lip hard to prevent that. This was his mother’s sword. He had already used it for about a year. He’d grown used to it. He liked it. So… even if it was old and worn… it was a treasure, in a way.

Yet it broke.

When his opponent, Jiv, attacked him in that purple cloud, Arthur managed to predict the path of the attack and blocked the man’s short sword. But Jiv didn’t stop. He recklessly swung his sword directly against his until it snapped.

And the way it did was strange. His mother always made it a point that it was now his responsibility to maintain his weapon, so he spent time cleaning it of dirt, rust and extremely occasional monster blood using water, oils and rags. He did it consistently. So the way it broke is completely unnatural.

But it doesn’t change the fact that his sword is broken, and although it hurts, he has to accept it quickly and react. Because his opponent is charging at him again. He has a weapon and Arthur doesn’t.

But… this could be an opening.

No, this IS an opening.

Just because he’s unarmed it doesn’t mean he can’t fight.

Along with changing his stance, he changes the way prana is flowing within his body. He puts his left leg forward and right leg back. He focuses the flow of magic in his legs. He turns his upper body towards the rushing opponent, holds his left arm in front of himself and pulls his right arm back, holding it parallel to the ground and tightening his hand into a fist. The magical energy flows into his right arm as well.

Prana still travels through his whole body, but there’s a lesser amount going to the parts that are less needed for what he’s about to do now. He focuses on both of his legs and his right arm.

Sir Samuel taught him this just yesterday, and Arthur is unsure whether he can actually pull it off now. The distribution of prana to the key parts of his body is too slow. He’s still not used to it. However, Sir Samuel said that, since he already has a well-trained body, doing this should be within his abilities. Arthur spent all night practicing, but it wasn’t enough.

He sees his opponent running at him, but although faster than a normal person, he’s extremely slow if he compares him to someone like Marina, Aryn or the assassin. The prana flows and concentrates. Seeing Jiv closing in still makes him anxious, so he tries to hurry up. He holds it like a spring, and when the mercenary is three meters away from him, Arthur releases the [Martial Art].

***

In the blink of an eye, Eliot saw Arthur lunge forward, close the distance and punch Jiv straight in the face. At least, it looked like a lunge, but it was almost like his body was pulled forward by his outstretched fist.

It was fast, and Jiv didn’t see it coming. Arthur’s fist met his face mid-charge. He probably didn’t even notice before he got hit and sent flying backwards, rolling several times on the ground and lifting up a cloud of dirt.

The crowd is silent for two short seconds before it erupts in cheers. Even Sir Kain is laughing heartily at what he saw. But there’re two that don’t look happy with what happened.

Sir Samuel and Arthur himself.

The farmer shakes his head and looks at his fist, as if looking for something wrong there. There’s a scowl on his face showing clear discontent.

On his part, Sir Samuel grimaces. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

“…Did you teach him how to do that, Sir Samuel?” Eliot asks, understanding the implications of the vice-general’s words and tone.

“Yesterday, yes.” He nods. “He didn’t know any Martial Arts, so I thought him [Stinger] to cover for his lack of attack and movement options. However, maybe it was wrong of me to do that. With so little time to practice, I wasn’t able to correct his mistakes.”

“Cut the kid some slack.” Sir Kain says with a big grin on his face and nods of approval. “Even if he’s doing it wrong, he was still able to pull off a Martial Art after practicing for less than a day.” He then laughs loudly. “I guess geniuses like you have a hard time understanding the struggles of the common folks. Ahahahaha!”

Sir Samuel grimaces, apparently seeing truth in that statement. “Still, I’m glad to see that expression in his face.”

Eliot looks back at Arthur. Although he still has a scowl on his face, not happy with his own performance, he’s now looking straight at where Jiv is. However, the mix of the dust and the purple smoke only let people see his silhouette.

***

What the fuck was that?

The way he moved, it was definitely a Martial Art, but it was so fast! Dammit, his face hurts like a bitch and the world is moving around him. His nose is definitely broken, and to make things worse, he twisted his ankle when he rolled on the ground.

It’s not fair.

The difference between their power is too great. It’s always like this. The ones born lucky are destined for success while the unlucky ones like him are destined to rot in the streets! Jiv never stood a chance in this tournament. His dream of becoming a knight to live the easy life for once was only that, a stupid dream.

He grits his teeth despite the pain in his cheek and nose. If that kid had his sword, Jiv would’ve died! Boiling anger starts rising from his chest. He wants to lash out. He wants to take revenge against the world, even if only a little, even if against the kid in front of him who just happened to be born luckier than him.

He takes advantage of the smoke and dust covering him and takes out the black pill of [H.U.P.]. His anger guides his hand, and he takes the pill into his mouth and swallows it.

The effect is near immediate. He doesn’t even feel his nose anymore. His vision stabilizes. He feels his body and soul getting numb. He runs prana through it, more than he usually would, more than it would be safe.

Side effects will definitely come after this. Nausea, headaches and even coughing blood. But he doesn’t care. Right now, he just wants to beat the shit out of that kid.

***

That he was coming at him again was obvious. Jiv screamed at the top of his lungs as he came out of the smoke, holding his short sword with both hands, tucked at his side with the tip pointed straight at Arthur.

He narrows his eyes. The prana signal coming from him is higher, hotter. His dash is faster than before. Is he getting reckless or did he stop holding back? The latter is the most probable, but the wild look in Jiv’s eyes makes Arthur believe the former.

Jiv is in front of him, and the short sword thrusts forward. But even if Jiv’s body is stronger due to the increase in prana being fed to it, his movements are even wider. His shoulders move too much, allowing Arthur to predict the path of the blade.

For a moment, the image of his mother overlaps with Jiv, and three different sword strikes coming from different directions become a possibility. But those strikes don’t come. They’re simply a vision of how his mother would press her advantage in this situation. Right here, right now, his current opponent can’t begin to compare to his mother.

Arthur turns his body, and the sword misses him as it is thrust. He immediately counters with a heavy left punch to Jiv’s stomach, but although he recoils from the impact, his face doesn’t change. He doesn’t react.

Arthur’s eyes widen at that, and he has to quickly step back as the sword comes up to slash him.

‘He didn’t feel it? Did he enhance his resistance to pain?’

Arthur has to wonder. This man was invited to participate in this tournament. He can’t underestimate him.

Jiv jumps into the air, about three meters up and forward. He wants to attack Arthur like that? It only makes his trajectory even more predictable. All he needs to do is step back a bit. He does, but Arthur also decides to keep practicing [Stinger].

He gathers the prana in his legs and arm as Jiv falls from the air, aiming to hit him just as he lands. If he hits him with a strong enough punch, he’ll send him flying again and he won’t be able to counter attack, even if he doesn’t feel pain.

But then Jiv’s falling angle suddenly changes. As if something was pulling him, Jiv starts falling even faster and directly towards Arthur as he holds the sword over his head. That’s obviously a Martial Art!

“Aaaaaaahhhhh!!!!” Jiv screams from his throat. His eyes are fixated on Arthur.

Arthur has to abort the [Stinger]. He abruptly changes the flow of prana, causing him to feel a sharp pain along his spine. It’s like trying to stop the swinging of a sledgehammer mid motion, but instead of straining the muscles, it strains the soul and the pain is felt directly in the nerves.

He just grits his teeth and bears it, because flinching once will mean a sword through his throat. Those eyes look like those of a wild beast. He focuses the magic primarily on his legs. About 80% of the prana in his body is flowing there, making them shake from the pressure. Then, Arthur jumps high, directly to meet Jiv in mid-air.

Arthur’s jump is fast, and it takes the mercenary by surprise. He’s not able to bring his sword down before Arthur grabs his face and flings him down to the ground.

Jiv lands on his back with a loud thud, dropping his sword in the process. Arthur lands on his feet and acts immediately. If this guy’s not feeling any pain, then his only choice is leave him unconscious.

It doesn’t feel good to make the comparison, but there was this one time when a wild dog started attacking the kids of the owner of one of the farms Arthur was working at. He tackled the dog and choked it until it fell unconscious. He doesn’t want to compare this guy to a dog, but…

And by the way, the wild dog? He’s now a guard dog at the farm. Poor thing was starving, so it calmed down after some food. The kids love him.

Arthur tackles the mercenary on the ground, capturing his arms with one hand and putting his own arm over Jiv’s throat and pushing against it. The older man struggles as much as he can, glaring daggers at Arthur. But soon he starts to lose strength, his expression softens and in only 20 more seconds, Jiv stops struggling. Just to make sure, Arthur takes his pulse, and confirms the guy is still alive.

After doing the same, the referee points to Arthur with his hand and dramatically announces.

“The winner of the first bout: Mister Arthuuuuur!”

Arthur winces at how loud the referee is when up close, but then the cheering of the crowd starts to settle in his ears. People are cheering for him, clapping their hands at his victory.

…

He smiles.