Chapter 44 - The Test of Valor (2)

Standing patiently still on my spot, a fair distance away from the chaotic melee, I watched with curiosity tinged with a little hilarity. I observed all the fighters and could make out the most prominent ones. Four of the most prominent ones were heavily-muscled men with all the usual advantages; height, muscles, weight, reach, and other little characteristics.

There were also the few slim men and women who gracefully danced out of the melee, dodging the frequent attacks, and attacking their opponents only when their defenses were weakened or opened.

A few of the fighters finally got the clever idea to distance themselves from the chaotic melee. Then they looked at each other, silently agreeing between themselves that they would wait until most of the fighting died out.

Three of nearest clever fighters looked toward the black cowled man who was standing the furthest away from the fight. They grinned to each other seeing that the black cowled man was not holding a weapon, just a short sword sheathed behind his back, which he could not use.

They were all looking at the black cowled man with thoughts of an easy elimination. They were all looking at me.

Oh well, I thought, it was only a matter of time before I needed to join the fight anyway.

What looked to be the youngest fighter out of the three came charging at me, wanting to eliminate an easy opponent. He had an enthusiastic look on his youthful face and most likely wanted to show off in front of his peers.

When the youth, most likely around what my human age looked to be, came within distance of me, he did not even bother to test his opponent. The young fighter just wildly slashed his wooden sword toward my head, trying to knock me into unconsciousness.

I moved a little to my right, just dodging the wooden sword by a hair's breadth. His defense came undone having overreached himself with that wild slash, not that he had any form of defense to begin with.

The side of my hand came falling down toward his unprotected neck, delivering a sharp hit with just the right amount of strength against a human opponent. I would not have wanted to attract the attentions of every human in the courtyard when my opponent was beheaded or had a crooked, broken neck had I used a greater measure of my strength. It was better for them to think I had a fair amount of strength for a human, not too much, not too little.

His body hit the earth with a loud thud, leather armor against ground. I grabbed the fallen wooden sword beside his body. I had now truly joined the chaotic melee. Well, the edges of the chaotic melee, since the main fight was at the center of the courtyard where dozens of fighters were still battling each other.

By the time I had grabbed the wooden sword and had turned around, the other two “clever” fighters were almost within distance. The two of them, probably friends with each other, flanked both of my sides. The fighter to my right slashed at my upper body, while the other slashed at my lower body.

Their movements were predictable—everything was predictable when your opponents were much, much slower than you and your eyes were adept enough to follow their every movement.

I blocked the upper body strike with my wooden sword, while my free hand backhanded the opponent to my left with the back of my palm. My palm reached much faster than his wooden sword and there was a sharp smack of bone to palm as I hit his cheek.

I had backhanded the fighter hard enough to cause him to lose balance and drop to the floor with a thud, the side of his face now lying on the ground.

Without checking the fallen opponent, I overpowered the other fighter with my wooden sword, pushing at his own sword to give me a better advantage. There was only a second of struggle before my opponent lost his attacking stance, having been overpowered.

His stance and balance broken, my opponent’s guard was now wide open. Swiftly and coldly efficient, I headbutted the center of his face. There was a loud crunch as his nose broke. My next move was to break his balance with a sweep of my right leg, tripping both his legs with a vicious sweep.

Both of the “clever” fighters were now on the earthen floor of the courtyard, groaning in pain, with one of them having trouble breathing. Both of them were still conscious, only the one with the broken nose out of the fight.

I turned to the fallen opponent whom I had backhanded, but just as I was about to swing my wooden sword at his face, I was interrupted.

“Stop, stop, I surrender!” he shouted loudly.

I looked toward the two grandmasters who were spectating the chaotic melee nearby, but saw no signs of them even hinting what I should do when my opponent surrendered.

Since the two grandmasters or the guards who were surrounding us a short distance away did not even deign to give me their thoughts, I only shrugged. I swung my wooden sword at the face of the pleading man.

It took three weak strikes until the man finally lost consciousness, his face a mess of bruises, tears, and blood. Mind you, my opponent was not dead. He would live with an ugly face for a while and he was lucky I did not “crack” his skull as the grandmaster had told us to.

With the time I had wasted on the three opponents, there were now only twenty remaining fighters on the courtyard, all of them tired and sweating from their exertions in various degrees. There were about four women, while the rest were men.

The chaotic melee had died down and there were only a few fights ensuing, while the remaining fighters were circling around each other, wary and alert. After all, the remaining twenty, excluding me, were the best out of the group.

All of them were avoiding me, wary of my hooded appearance and my cold viciousness. They gave me a wide berth, thinking to take the other nine spots by fighting easier opponents.

One of the men, however, thought otherwise. He was only a little tired, not even breathing hard after being in the thick of the chaotic melee. It was an attestation to his skills.

Tall, most likely reaching six feet, and heavily muscled, the man confidently walked toward me, his eyes itching for a better fight. There was a grin on his rugged face, his short, black hair plastered with sweat and dirt. The fighter was wearing heavy, black boots and thick, leather armor, but his walk suggested that the weight was nothing to his strength.

The other fighters avoided the grinning, rugged warrior, which was further evidence of the man's prowess; they had most likely witnessed this man's martial skills in the chaotic melee.

Likewise, I walked toward the man, my face hidden beneath the black cowl. With the wooden sword in my right hand, we circled around each other, both of us the center of attention. The other fighters had stopped their respective battles to see what was probably the top two fighters out of the twenty-one remaining. Most of them looked relieved and thankful that they were not the ones fighting me or my opponent.

“Why don't you show me your face and fight like a man, coward,” my opponent snidely put in. “Can you even see through that hood?”

It was relatively easy to see through my black cowl even though it hid my eyes, but I didn't bother to reply the man. There wouldn't be a need to after I had knocked him unconscious anyway.

My foe made the first move, a cautious, steady swing of his wooden sword. He was very skilled, neither overreaching himself nor striking softly. At least, those were my thoughts, even though I had not one clue about the first thing in swordsmanship. My previous profession as a human was being a merchant, after all. I only picked up a few tidbits here and there in my travels with the caravan guards and traveling warriors.

I met his swing with my own wooden sword, the two swords whacking each other and producing a sound which could only be made by hard wood striking against hard wood. My opponent quickly retracted his weapon, vigilantly going back into a readied battle stance. He was not too sure of my strength, despite knowing that I was slimmer, shorter, and less-muscled than him. My opponent had most likely seen the strength with which I had used to beat the three men, so he was being very cautious, not wanting to turn the fight into a clash of strength.

So, I thought, my opponent was only arrogant outwardly. Inside, he had the mind of a skillful warrior, cautious and steady, never underestimating his opponent. His swordsmanship teacher must have been very good to have beaten that fact into his mind so instinctively.

Oh well, I will be aggressive enough for the both of us then. It would be a nice change from my usual fights where I would always react after my opponents attacked me.

I rushed at my opponent, slashing at him wildly, holding most of my strength and speed back. The fighter easily blocked my strike.

I quickly pulled back my sword and transitioned into another strike, this time from the other side. Once again, the fighter easily blocked this second strike.

Seeing that this amount of strength and speed, which were usually enough for normal opponents, I increased it another notch.

I moved forward again, closing another foot of distance between the two of us. Then I swung my sword downward, aiming at his right side. The fighter blocked the strike again, but this time with a more noticeable straining.

I didn't give my opponent any respite before executing another strike, this time toward his left side. With the speed I was going, the fighter could only defend, not having any time to go into an attack of his own.

I kept on hacking at my opponent, varying my strikes; left, left, right, left, right, right. I gained ground gradually and my opponent had no choice but to move back to better defend himself. His face was stiff, tense, and straining with labored concentration. Small beads of sweat dripped down the sides of his face.

Seeing that he would eventually get overwhelmed if this continued, my opponent dash back to gain distance between us, but it was futile; I only dashed forward along with him, relentlessly hacking at him with my sword.

The fight was dragging on. Both our wooden swords were looking chipped at various parts of the edges.

I increased my strength and speed up another small degree.