Chapter 336: 336. Fighting Mord

A clap from the countess marked the first round of fights. The moment the sound emerged, all one thousand and forty-eight contestants charged into action. That was the reason why so much care had gone into the selection process. If the opponents were too mismatched, the fight would end in less than a second, making its entertainment value negligible to say the least. That was still a possibility, thus the many simultaneous fights. It was an interesting and effective self-regulating process. The more skilled the players were, the more skilled opponents they faced, making the battle last longer.

Dallion’s opponent was just as could be expected. At the sound of the clap, he rushed forward, attacking with two swords. The pattern followed was one of the standard attack-acrobatic combinations, allowing him to gain a bonus by the time he reached his adversary. Normally, Dallion could counter this approach by a jump and a dartbow shot directly down. However, that was only for within the awakened realms. Here, Dallion didn’t have a dartbow or the ability to summon it freely in his hand. What he still had was his combat splitting.

Concentrating, Dallion split into the instances, doing two leap counterattacks and a block. The time-length of each instance was far shorter than what he was used to, though even so, he managed to find the best solution.

Both of Dallion’s attacks were countered, in one case, slicing through Dallion’s shirt and causing a rather large wound. That was a moment of clarity. Flashbacks emerged, bringing Dallion back to the time he was wounded by the fury known as Cloud near the awakening shrine. Fear and adrenaline swept through Dallion, reminding him just how mortal he was. It was highly unlikely that the organizers would allow for fatalities during the festival—people enjoyed watching fights, not watch others slay each other. However, there was still the inborn sense of self-preservation that kicked in.

Not this time, Dallion thought, choosing the second counterattack instance. Blades clashed as he went above Mord, landing behind him. That didn’t prevent the Flameforger from turning around in a circular motion to continue the attack.

He’s using the guard strategy, Nil said.

I’m aware of that, Dallion mentally hissed.

After all the reading and practicing the echo had made him go in the early days and his experiences in the realms, Dallion had become pretty good at identifying sequence patterns. The issue was that almost exclusively the patterns were created by awakened that were on his side. Even when facing more competent adversaries, it was rare that Dallion broke a sequence, since it was more efficient to complete a sequence of his own, or do an unexpected attack combining skills and familiars. If he was going to advance up the ranks, he was going to have to learn that skill, just as he was going to have to improve his split breaking.

Mord turned around with a low sweep, then took a step forward aggressively. Dallion’s reaction was to attack to stop him from advancing. That was the wrong decision—Mord’s goal wasn’t to attack, but to complete a second sequence, which he did. Dallion watched as his opponent’s speed became faster and faster.

Panic seeped in. Dallion focused on his attacks in an attempt to make up for the other’s speed.

What are you doing? Nil asked. It’s as if you’ve forgotten everything! Don’t build him up. Retreat and reevaluate.

Dallion grit his teeth. All the training and preparation seemed to have gone to waste. It was infuriating how easily Mord could counter anything Dallion did and take advantage of it to his benefit; just like playing go—every move had multiple purposes, and dealing with one only reinforced the others, making the entire battle more difficult.

Astreza, Berannah, Centor, Dararr, Emion, Felygn, Galatea, Dallion recited the names of the Seven Moons.

A soothing effect passed over him, allowing him to start thinking again. Immediately he split into three instances, and not a moment too soon. In two of the instances, Mord slammed Dallion in the stomach with the side of his sword, in another he did a spin kick, knocking Dallion to the ground. Both of the instances resulted in Dallion’s unequivocal failure and elimination. In the third one, however, Dallion used his guard skills to counter with the armadil shield.

While the shield didn’t have the power to extend vastly in real life, it adjusted just enough segments to catch the edge of the blade like a monkey wrench. Confusion emanated from Mord, it was only a single vibration among a sea of confidence, but enough for Dallion to sense.

You aren’t invincible, Dallion said to himself.

Memories of their first duel came back to him. Back then, Mord was drunk, overconfident, and stopped by Fire Sky before he could get serious. Even so, he hadn’t won. If that was possible once, it could happen again.

“Sorry about this,” Dallion said, then unleashed the whip blade.

There was a loud click. All segments of the blade detached, separating from one another as Dallion swung the weapon around him.

Mord was quick to react. His guard sequence was broken—negating any speed advantage—and his sword stuck, the only available option was to let it go and do a back somersault.

People in the ground pointed in Dallion’s spot on the grid, witnessing the full effect of the whip blade. Several nobles did as well. Even one imperial guest leaned forward.

“People use whip blades here?” he asked.

“This is a backwater city surrounded by buried sites of ruins, your master,” the mage behind him said. “People are bound to find an exotic weapon or two. Even mercenaries.”

“Do you think he knows how to use it?”

“I would highly discourage gambling on the matter, young master. It’s rarely about the weapon. It all depends on the person wielding it.”

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Dallion spun the whip blade around him several more times, each causing Mord to retreat further towards the wooden wall of the grid. This was nothing but a desperate plot to gain time to think. Thankfully, his opponent couldn’t risk it.

The shield segments shifted again, letting Mord’s weapon drop to the ground. The time had come for Dallion to make a choice, and he did, dashing forward at his opponent. Midway there, he jumped up, combining athletic and acrobatic skills, then waved the whip blade wildly so as to create a cone of devastation below him. Dust rose into the air as the edges of the many indestructible fragments scraped along the ground.

Feeling the pressure of the real world, Dallion split into two instances. He knew that Mord would counterattack—that’s what Dallion had set up with this fashion of attack—he only didn’t know how.

Ranged, Dallion thought. It had to be a ranged attack. Most likely a throwing knife, or disk, or something similar., It had to be small enough to be hidden on his clothes, while also large enough o casue serious damage.

You’re still making the same mistakes, Nil sighed.

What are you talking about? I have him where I want him, Dallion countered. That wasn’t exactly a lie, but reality was far more chaotic than he liked to admit.

All you’re doing is providing him a way to complete more guard sequences.

Hardly had the echo said that, than Mord emerged. However, he didn’t go for a ranged attack. Instead, the man had gone for the air, jumping right through the eye of the hurricane of blades. That wasn’t the alarming part—Dallion had expected that to an extent. What Dallion couldn’t have foreseen was that his enemy had also hidden away a pair of combat gauntlets of sky silver.

Reaching out, Mord grabbed the whip blade, right above the guard. The sound of screeching filled the air as two sets of indestructible gear ground against one another. There were no sparks, no metal fragments, but in his mind, Dallion could almost see how this was going to continue. He was presented with two basic options: either let go of the weapon and let Mord pretty much use it, or hold on and be at a disadvantage at the inevitable melee exchange that was to follow. Given his options, Dallion decided to hold on.

“Clever,” Mord said as he pulled the whip blade. His weight was enough to make Dallion fly towards him, which was instantly met by a barrage of kicks. The thick boots being the best response Dallion had to his opponent’s armored fists, he planned to make use of them. Unfortunately, that proved not to be enough.

A short race took place with both sides, trying to complete their guard sequence faster. It was Mord who won and took the opportunity to hit Dallion in the knee.

White hot pain spread from Dallion’s knee to the rest of his leg. Nothing appeared to be broken, but the pain had caused the necessary distraction to pull Dallion down to the ground.

With a large thump, Dallion crashed like a sack of potatoes. In his mind, he could almost see red awakened rectangles appearing, telling him how much damage he had sustained and what the consequences were. Even without them, though, he had a pretty good idea how things stood. With the pain in his knee and the sudden slam-down movement had become all the more difficult.

Mord didn’t stop there. Like a piranha tasted blood, he twisted his body mid-air, following a series of motions that would get him to land directly on Dallion with a punch on the back.

Dallion’s combat splitting allowed him to evade the first strike—which drove the gauntlet halfway in the ground—though not the second. Even after blocking with the shield, Dallion felt the air knocked out of him, and that was not all. The successful hit somehow had allowed Mord to start a multi attack pummeling Dallion with dozens of additional hits. While not as strong as the previous, they were enough to keep him pinned to the ground.

He really isn’t joking around, dear boy, Nil said.

That much was true. Dallion attempted to combat split again, but the few instances that he managed to achieve failed to escape the rain of punches. Several hit his right shoulder, shooting torrents of pain down his arm. In this situation, it was almost impossible to keep holding the whip blade, let alone do anything else.

Dallion clenched his teeth. He had started this fight wanting to achieve this victory using only his own abilities, however, it was clear that wouldn’t be possible. While the gap between him and Mord had narrowed, it was still very much there. Trying to breach it in his current state was more than he could achieve at the moment. However, there was one more trick Dallion had at his disposal.

Now, Lux, he thought.

The firebird kicked in, or rather the kaleidervisto he had hidden in his holster boots started to glow, making the healing effect available in the real world. Starting from his foot, the soothing warmth spread throughout the rest of Dallion’s body. While the pain didn’t entirely subside, Dallion felt it take the edge off, at least to the point he could force his arm to move again, and he did, doing the closest thing to a whip lash he could perform with his weapon. It wasn’t much, but it managed to break Mord’s concentration, and more importantly—his attack.

A slight reprieve followed—just enough to allow Dallion to slip his left arm out of the shield’s straps and draw his Nox dagger. Rising up, Dallion then did a single attack. It was a gamble. Mord had every chance to evade the strike, but he chose to meet with his armor head on, while punching Dallion in the jaw. Once again Dallion was propelled through the air into the wooden separator, marking the boundaries of his fighting space. The pain was intense, but Dallion could only smile.

“You fell for it,” he whispered.

The tip of the Nox dagger had barely scratched the other’s armor, but already cracks were moving up like a growing spiderweb. More importantly, Dallion noticed a drop of blood trickle from within that suggested a similar process was happening beneath. The wound was far from fatal, but it would continue to grow for a while creating an increasing scar.

Now we’re equal. Dallion launched his next attack.

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