Broken Tower Saga: The First Swordsman

Wrik found more confidence in himself as he could use the [Eye of Insights] now. With his vision being clear, his perception was heightened as well. Even though he still could not use his mana, this ability gave him enough stability in the battle. 

The spear and sword met in the air again. Wrik did not linger on each clash, moved every time his opponent had a chance to deal a blow to him. In between, all the attacks he made were on the lower body of Arjamith, though the enormous man had blocked most of them with the spear. None of them was successful in dealing a fetal blow that could win them the duel.

In the end, Wrik did not run away like in previous times. Not because he had bought the time that needed for the success of his plan, but because he wanted to see how much progress he had made so far. He could not always win with the brain—brawl was another kind of strength. A primal kind that cancels any kind of scheme.

Arjamith said nothing after listening to Wrik, and let his entire attention into the duel. What Wrik said might be right, but that did not mean he would let Wrik win. His spear listened to him and moved like it was a part of his body. He did not need mana to show his skills, he just needed to get into the flow and he finally found the flow. 

The giant man moved slowly, swinging the tall spear left and right while Wrik moved backwards slowly, blocking each swing. Wrik's eyes do the magic, calculating where to block and where the attack would come from next. But even with that, his palm shook every time he blocked the spear. 

Arjamith and his monstrous strength. And no one could overlook his skills as well. 

Wrik now felt relieved that he did not have to arm wrestle this guy or some game along the line.

Arjamith pulled, turned and swung his spear in monstrous speed and strength, and Wrik blocked each of them with similar precision. A smile lit up the lips of the leader of the Borgemen. This was the moment he was waiting for. This was what he was striving for—a battle where he could fight for his heart's consent. And he was not the only one feeling the thrill. 

Even though Wrik was blocking most of the time, he was feeling the thrill as well. And he knew it was not a new feeling. He had felt this kind of amazement of battle before. The last battle he had with this huge guy, he had felt the thrill, but then he was not composed enough to know the feeling. He did not know why he was so fixated on winning in the battle before, but he knew now. 

It was not a foreign feeling, but his own. He always restricted it most of the time, but finding a monster of an opponent, it awakened itself again. It was not someone else's, by his own. His own battle thirst. His will to win against anything. 

"I know you had it the first time I met you," Arjamith hissed between the battle. He could ignore the pain in his chest with willpower, but it was another story for his right knee. He felt agony in his right knee even with the slight movement, but he did not stop. The battle was far too exciting for him to stop now. He would not stop even if he become a cripple for life. His spear moved faster and stronger than before and his opponent still blocked each of them. 

In between, Wrik tried to sneak a few blows to him, but he had not succeeded in any one of them. In the end, it was all blow against the blow. The spear clashed under his left arm, sliding with the new armour and the sword. It damaged the armour, but Wrik's focus was somewhere else. 

Wrik twisted his sword and attacked the shoulder of Arjamith, who tried to block with the back end of the spear, but he was faster and dealt where he intended. If only he could use mana now, then he might have won the duel. 

The blow did not bring out any blood, but it did quite good to damage the armour. And the grunt from the large man proved it was not useless either. But Wrik did not have time to take pleasure in his successful assault as the spear moved again. 

Arjamith twisted his spear upwards, which was under Wrik's left arm. Wrik had no time to dodge, and a cracking noise came from his left arm. Wrik felt the agony the moment his left arm was twisted by the spear. When he could finally move, the condition of his left shoulder was as good as broken.

Wrik cried, gritting his teeth. A dropkick was about to hit him on the abdomen, but Wrik moved faster this time and moved his body to the right.

Moving a few yards away from his opponent, Wrik let out a deep breath. He felt the pain in his left shoulder but the Mist tried to soothe it and Wrik accepted it, knowing it was coming from none other than Tanya. Her innate ability [Mist of Change] let her do magical things. It could pull, push or restrict one from their emotion and the mist could even cloak the senses of anyone she wanted. In this battle, Wrik only asked to heighten the pain of Arjamith, but as her mastery rose in the ability, she could do both at the same time.

Almost all the pain was cut off from his mind and he saw the worried face of Lily, Dairyl, and all the other maidens. Few of them were already astonished at the fact that he could go on with a giant like this for so much time. Only Lily amount them who had a chance against Arjamith, but she too was not confident in winning, what else an outlander could do?

"Run," Arjamith said, posing his proud body to the crowd. "You have no chance of winning."

"That might be true," Wrik acknowledged, gasping for breaths. He might have a good chance of winning if he could use the mana—the only way he could counter the monstrous strength of his opponent. But that was an empty dream. 

"But you won't run?" 

Wrik shook his head. The sweat dripped down his face, and he said, "I can not win against you, but do I need to?"

The words not only startled Arjamith and his men, but Lily and others were startled as well.

"What do you mean, outlander?" 

"I could answer the question, but showing you will be more gratifying," Wrik said with a rueful smile. "Defeat me before I could show you, or else you would not have a chance. Not in the duel and nor in the duel."

"Is this another of your tricks, outlander?"Arjamith asked impatiently. The pain was claiming his battle thrust. He wanted to finish it as soon as possible and deal with all the people here. It was going to be a long night for him with the pain.

"You will find out soon enough," Saying that, Wrik stared run again, but it was not best of his speed. He let the others follow him, especially his opponent, who was injured in the knees. 

Arjamith chased after Wrik, gritting his teeth. He thought Wrik was playing another trick to injure him, but he still followed. If he could stop him before he could go further, then all the problem was solved.

Amid the agony, Arjamith ran faster than anyone else and attacked Wrik again. The outlander blocked it and they battled, running towards the direction of the cliff where the snow-filled trees thinned out. 

Wrik felt a little vibration on the Omega cube that was kept close to his chest. 'Ton must have finished his job,' he thought and stopped in the path. He looked from the mountain. His eyes moved from the grassland to a specific area, and he found what he was looking for. 

Sighing in relief inwardly, Wrik looked at the large man in the eye and asked. "Didn't you want to meet Anton, but I'm afraid you won't be seeing him today."

Arjamith felt something bizarre about the entire process. What was this outlander talking about? He looked at Wrik, who continued.

"As I said, showing you will be more gratifying," Wrik said, and pulled himself away from Arjamith and let the Borgemen see for himself. "Look closely."

Arjamith did, and a frown appeared in his eyes instantly. His eyes moved to where Wrik intended him to see and he saw a fire miles away from where he was standing. Smoke rose in the sky from the fire, making him think it was a wildfire, but his mind told him it was something else. The place the smoke and fire were coming from was where the very fortress was situated. A dark thought appeared on his mind.

"What did you do, Outlander?" Arjamith said with a darkened face. His voice was cold and his eyes told he would murder anyone here. "What the fuck did you do?" 

Wrik smiled. It was truly gratifying to see that look on Arjamith's face.

"Nothing much," Wrik said. "I just asked a few of my friends to burn down your fortress, and steal the flag if they could find."

_______________

End of the chapter: Checkmate. 

Next Chapter: Fury.

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