Loopbreaker

“This is absurd! What right does this one have to challenge me?!” Valehart shouted.

“Oh, are you a coward?” Francis asked. “I’m sorry I though the rumors of you being a gifted man with a sword were true. Perhaps I was wrong. You only fight the weak because that is what you are. A weak man.”

The circle of warriors and guards chuckled as Valehart’s eyes glared at Francis. The disgraced officer turned toward Stenson while pointing a finger at Francis.

“You cannot allow this!” Valehart proclaimed.

“Would you prefer to fight me instead?” Stenson growled. “I swear on my title and my blade that the one who is challenging you was trained by Phillip and is acting as his proxy.”

Francis tried not to pay attention to Phillip. The man stood next to him, trembling. Francis wasn’t sure if it was anger, rage, or something else, but he prayed Phillip didn’t react and let this work out as they had planned.

“That’s impossible! Look at him! He doesn’t look like–” Valehart’s words were cut off as Stenson moved with a speed Francis longed to have. The older man’s hand gripped the noble by the throat and lifted him up.

When Stenson spoke his voice sounded like metal on metal. “If you imply I am a liar again, I will personally cut every part of your body off and have a healer make it so you do not bleed out until all that is left is just a head. Do I make myself clear?”

Grunting, Valehart nodded, finding himself freed from a grip that could have probably crushed his windpipe had the general tried.

“It’s alright, General,” Francis said. “It’s obvious the man’s a coward and a thief. No honor, just a–”

“I accept!” Valehart shouted. Fury and rage consumed every inch of the man’s face as his cheeks turned red. “I will gut you like a fish but not until I’ve done far worse to you than I did to him!” Valehart’s finger shook as he pointed at Phillip.

“Make him suffer,” Phillip said, turning and putting a hand on Francis’s arm. “Just know… whatever happens… I am more grateful than you will ever know.”

Francis nodded and stood there, watching as men began to draw a square upon the dirt. Over three dozen warriors stood at the outer edges, and once it was done, Stenson nodded to one of the guards next to him.

The man moved toward Valehart and threw the man a sword, letting it fall to the ground near the dishonored officer's feet.

“Win and you might just escape with your life. Lose and… well you’ll be dead,” Stenson announced for everyone to hear.

Francis studied the officer he was about to fight. He had been told that Valehart’s position within the elite fighters wasn’t merely just a title or a way to potentially die while fighting. Valehart was good with a sword and not an opponent to be taken lightly.

Francis could see the way the man walked and how he moved. Always maintaining balance, staying low without crouching.

Stenson was right… This should be a good test. Shame the old man wouldn’t tell me what skills Valehart has.

Knowledge was power and Francis could only laugh when the general told him that if he died, it would just serve as another training opportunity and they could do this all over.

Valehart was loosening up, rotating shoulders, shaking his legs a little, his blue eyes watching Francis like a hawk.

All Francis did there was stand, arms crossed over his chest, smiling.

“You really think you’re going to win? Do you realize–” Valehart asked.

“That you’re a prick? A thief, a predator… a coward? To call you scum dishonors those who are indeed scum,” Francis answered. “Why yes, everyone here believes I’m going to win and we all know what you are. That is why we’re here. To see justice done.”

Francis could hear the frustration in Valehart’s breathing and then it was gone.

Well at least he can push away that rage. Hopefully this is a good fight.

“Let the trial by combat begin!” The moment Stenson called for it to start, Valehart moved, his sword thrusting before turning and slashing downward.

Francis leapt back, drawing his weapon and avoiding a wound that would have probably killed him or at least gutted him had it struck.

Valehart kept pressing the attack, sending out slashes, thrusts and even a few kicks.

The sound of metal on metal rang out in the tiny area as Francis got a feel for what Valehart’s true power might be.

He’s holding back.

With each passing second, the barrage of attacks and combos continued, a flurry of strikes that began to grow faster and Francis knew the man was starting to use his full potential.

It became increasingly difficult for Francis to defend against the attacks. It had been a while since he had really fought against a man and not beasts. Valehart fought with skill, experience and wisdom. It was one thing to dodge and parry strikes from creatures he knew like his own hand. Now Francis faced an opponent who had spent a lifetime fighting with a blade. Francis wasn’t sure how much time he had really spent training with a sword. Sure, all the loops started on the same day, and the fights that took place on the battlefield sometimes ended upon his arrival. Valehart had been training his whole life to fight. Francis had been training since his first death how to get stronger.

Physically, Valehart was slightly slower and his strength wasn’t as high as Francis’, but it was the experience behind the blade that made Francis have to get serious.

Francis went for a thrust, seeing an opening and attacked. His blade was parried and then Valehart’s weapon slid forward, a counterattack coming at Francis immediately.

Francis’ senses detected it as the attack came, his Battle Sense announcing the use of the Riposte skill and Francis retaliated, shifting and activating his own.

[ Riposte ]

Valehart’s gaze changed slightly, the look of disdain gone as his eyes narrowed, more serious now than before.

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Francis’ attack was parried and Riposted again. For a moment they both continued the parrying and counterattacking until they ended up pressed against each other, hands holding each other’s weapon wrist.

“You’re better than I expected,” Valehart growled. “This will make it even better when I kill you and then gut Phillip.”

Francis just smiled, close enough to smell the garlic from the meal the man had recently eaten.

“Then you'd better do something before I get serious,” Francis replied.

Valehart shoved, trying to push him away, but Francis didn’t move; instead, mimicking the shove his opponent had just done, sending the officer stumbling back a few steps.

Cheers came from the warriors and officers around them and Francis took a few steps back, watching his opponent as the man glared at him.

Valehart came and the moment the officer’s blade was in range of Francis, Valehart’s sword turned into a whirlwind of death.

[ Iron Wall ]

Francis knew what was coming and even with his abilities, couldn’t defend against the four attacks completely.

Flurry…

Francis’ body reacted, diverting the two aimed for his chest, choosing to allow the one that struck his right side, and twisting enough to only suffer a gash along his right leg.

Valehart drew back his sword, now stained with red and came again, attacking high and the officer’s sword’s path changed upon getting close, now aimed for Francis’ left side.

Quick Attack.

Francis parried the attack enough to prevent a strike to his vital organs, instead, another area on his shirt turned crimson. The damage was minimal as his Iron Wall ability and other defensive skills negated the potential damage that should have come.

Valehart disengaged, an evil smile forming as he waved his sword a few times. “Beg and I will end this quick.”

Francis just started to laugh. It was hilarious to see how much Valehart thought about his own ability.

Pain Resistance made it so that what Francis felt was like a bee sting. It was there, but he didn’t suffer like others might. His Thick skin and Iron Wall had made it so the weapon’s tip didn’t get more than a quarter inch at best. Sure it bled, but no major damage had been dealt, especially compared to what Francis had experienced against the beastkin.

“You know… I heard you were good, but I guess those were all lies you spread,” Francis said as he moved back a few more steps. “In fact, I honestly don’t think you’re good at all. To prove it, I’m going to blindfold myself.”

Gasps and grunts came from the guards and warriors around at his words.

“Francis!” Phillip shouted.

“It’s fine, he’s nothing,” Francis replied.

“Seriously?! You think–” Valehart shouted.

“Stop flapping your lips and move to the other side and I’ll do what I say,” Francis said. “We all know you have no honor, but I do. Move to the edge of the box and I’ll blindfold myself. Once my blade is in my hand, attack. Or don’t. Either way I’m going to kill you.”

Behind Valehart was Stenson and the general looked absolutely pleased with this moment. A smile so large that teeth showed, something that rarely happened in all the deaths Francis had endured.

His opponent stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths as he did nothing, his weapon held ready. “You’re serious?”

“Unlike you, I keep my word,” Francis growled. “Now, either move to the other side and let me make this a fair match or I will come at you with everything I have. If you win, it will be my folly for such an act. If you lose because you didn’t let me blindfold myself, well… every man will tell the tale of how stupid you really were.”

For an area full of so many men, the silence that lingered for a few moments seemed like an eternity.

“You’re a fool, just like your trainer,” Valehart spat, taking a few steps back. “You’ll die with your eyes open or closed.”

When his opponent had reached the other side, Francis drove his blade into the ground and pulled out the cloth he had put in his back pocket. Tying it quickly over his eyes, Francis took one breath and then grabbed his sword.

Francis heard the approaching steps. He could sense the concern in the men around him by the way they held their breath. Valehart didn’t hold back, attacking from his left side, going for the area his sword arm would struggle to reach.

But Francis saw it all in his mind. He could almost see it better in some ways as he focused on what he could feel. Sidestepping and bringing his sword to parry, Francis moved, his feet sliding across the ground as Valehart paused for a moment before rushing him again.

Attacks rained down upon Francis and a full-on assault of metal sent to kill him came.

Francis endured it, using his Iron Wall once more when another Flurry attack added two more red spots to his outfit.

Groans and moans came from some who watched, but most were silent.

For one to be blindfolded and only now have a little over a dozen small injuries was not the outcome they had expected at all.

And Francis just laughed.

“WHY WONT YOU DIE!?” Valehart screamed. The man’s words were like a beacon; his breathing and rage were a roaring fire on top of a hill. It made keeping up with his presence far easier than the beastkin who said nothing, being silent as they struck from every side.

And so Francis endured each attack he let through, waiting for what he wanted to happen.

Finally, it came.

[ Death’s Dance Activated ]

Francis could sense his vitality slowly going down, his clothes and Endurance causing his wounds to clot quickly. Eventually, after suffering over thirty stabs and cuts, he felt the power grow.

The abilities that had come at Francis had gone silent. Even though Valehart had an Endurance in the proficient rank, the man’s skills were not as high as his. The number of times Valehart could repeat them over and over was far less.

And as his body swelled with the added strength, Francis smiled. “My turn.”

Two words signaled the shift in the entire fight. For so long Francis had played defensively, allowing the man to control the flow of it all. Yet it was his turn to show what kind of fighter he was.

[ Quick Attack ]

Francis felt his sword pierce flesh and heard the cheer of those around them.

Valehart tried to react, but Francis kept up the assault.

[ Flurry ]

Three more times his blade met a moment of resistance as it cut cloth and skin, slicing through muscle.

[ Quick Attack ]

[ Flurry ]

In moments, it was an entirely different fight. The one-sided duel had flipped.

“It’s always fun to play with your meal, isn’t it?” Francis said as he activated Quick Attack again.

Grunts and cries of pain came from Valehart as Francis’ blade struck again and again. His opponents' speed and balanced waned as the injuries piled up.

Yet with each passing moment, a little more power flowed into Francis.

Part of him wanted to use Power Strike, and the other remembered what Stenson had said. One never knew what an opponent might have, and Francis wouldn’t risk having a blow turned against him even if all it meant was dying and doing this again.

No, Francis wanted to do this the first time. He had made a promise and it felt like he would break it if he failed.

Phillip was somewhere in this crowd of spectators to his left, cheering and shouting for him. The sensation in his chest felt strange. For so long every memory of the man had been one who cursed and put him down. Even when he fought against Cutter, Phillip never cheered for him.

Yet right now, all Francis could hear from his trainer was words of encouragement.

And so Francis honored them.

He attacked with everything he had, but his flame was controlled. It did not burn down the countryside but refined an ingot inside a controlled forge. It was a weapon, precise and deadly.

Each attack was more powerful, forcing Valehart’s sword out of position and allowing the next strike to land.

And soon, the moment came and Francis took it, his blade piercing the shoulder socket of his opponent's right arm, causing the weapon to fall to the ground.

“I yield!” Valehart cried out.

So quickly, those words came from a man known for ignoring them.

But Francis paused, blade extended, tip pressed against his opponent's chest.

“I yield!” Valehart called out again.

Francis shook his head and then slowly lifted his left hand, removing his blindfold.

Terror filled those blue eyes, and a little bit of snot dripped from Valehart’s nose.

“Where was the mercy when you did what you did to Phillip and Miren?” Francis asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, stabbing his blade through Valehart’s left shoulder, both arms unable to rise.

There were no more shouts or cries from those around him. Francis scanned the crowd, his eyes finding Phillip. His face bore a smile and his trainer gave him a single nod.

“What if I promise not to kill you?” Francis asked, pausing for a second as he waited for the next part. “ What will you do? Will you somehow repay all those that you have wronged?”

“Yes! Yes, I will!” Valehart cried out. “I will–”

No other words came as a knife ran across the man’s throat. A gurgling sound was heard, and both shoulders tried to move to bring his hands to stop the flow of blood that flowed freely.

“Thank you,” Phillip said as he wiped the bloody dagger on Valehart’s shoulder.

Francis just nodded and used his blindfold to clean his blade. Having kept this promise, a sense of peace filled his soul.