Escaping Valhalla: A litRPG, isekai, tower-climber

Chapter 3:

In the few moments of reprieve I had between the first and second fight, I spun my new weapon in my offhand. It was a habit many warriors picked up to get a feel for the balance of a new blade. I could already tell that wielding two swords wouldn't be as easy as I had first assumed. Fighting with one one-handed sword was one thing, but a second sword required a whole new approach. I'd have to work with different balances and timings. I didn't realize how much I used my offhand for balance when fighting with one hand.

Despite the challenges, I wasn't ready to give up on the idea just yet. It would at least be a surprise for someone. I kept one blade behind me so my opponent wouldn't see it. They'd probably see that I was acting a little weird. It was almost like a fencer, but with a short one-handed sword, which didn't make any sense. But if I was lucky, it would be one of the meatheads who had only got this far on brawn.

My opponent stepped into the arena at the same time I appeared, and we charged at each other. Normally, I would play it slow and cautious, trying to make my opponent make a mistake. I would sit just out of reach, hoping for a lucky shot. But I didn't want to let my opponent register what was going on. So I roared in my best Bjorn impression as I slashed down with all my might. My opponent raised his blade, bracing it with his offhand to block.

He caught my sword in a textbook parry. We froze for a split second, and I felt him shift his balance slightly. He looked to be ready to slip to the side and counter my aggressive opening attack.

However, I didn't give him a chance. Quick as lightning, I whipped my left hand into his completely open side. I felt the resistance as my extra blade passed through his innards. Then the man sagged before limply collapsing to the ground.

It was the shortest victory of my life. My opponent lay dead before me, and I was on to the third round. I fully expected to meet someone like Bjorn again. It would have been just my luck. But the gods must have decided to have mercy on me.

I was vaguely aware of my opponent. I hadn't caught his name, but he had fought in the brawl last night. I imagined he probably made it through 4 or 5 people before, a bit better than me. If I managed to pull off a similar trick, there was no reason why I couldn't win here.

Swinging wildly, I tried the same opening move, but the man danced back. Without the resistance, I stumbled forward, off balance. I tried to slash with my left hand as my momentum carried me forward. Somehow, he managed to get his sword in the way, deflecting my second strike. But the surprise was evident on his face as he stared at my left hand.

He was slow to react, and I figured my overly committed first strike had paid off. I attempted to follow up, but he stumbled out of the way. The tip of my sword parted the woven cloth of his tunic as it just avoided drawing blood.

Continuing my onslaught, I spun. I was doing my best to bring my other sword into play, as slowly I overwhelmed him. It wasn't graceful. I was just flailing at him with both swords. My strikes fell into a steady rhythm that kept him on his toes. We danced as he tried to get used to fighting with someone with two blades. It was a delicate balance that could only last so long.

A lucky slash took him just above the knee, and he stumbled into my graceless hacking blades. I decimated his guard and cut through his face, ending the fight. I stood panting over my third downed opponent. My sword tips almost rested in the sand as I gathered the breath to yell in victory. I might not have been a warrior, but I would be damned if I didn't go down without a fight.

This hell would not keep me down much longer. I rolled my shoulders and practiced a few moves I imagined might work with two blades. I felt silly doing it, having really no idea what I was doing. I would have been better off with a dagger in the offhand, something light or flexible. But this was still better than what was originally given.

By the time I appeared in the next arena, I realized something was different. This place was almost double the size of the previous battleground. Instead of the normal arrangement, more than one opponent appeared equidistant around the circle. Four other opponents showed up, and I could tell by the looks on their faces that they were not surprised. They sized each other and me up at the same time.

They seemed to dismiss me as not much of a threat. And I couldn't blame them. Now, how could I use this to my advantage? As if someone had shot a starting gun out of a race, they charged into the center of the ring.

Ah, this was a general melee free-for-all. If I were to guess, I would say that the last one standing moved on. But you only get credits for kills you did yourself. It seemed to be the way of the place. But I would fight however I saw fit. I didn't really care about getting 12 kills. I really, really doubted that I would be able to get out of the Lesser Hall on my second attempt. But I wasn't eager to die, so I would go as far as I could in this tournament.

I was several steps behind, but I also headed to the center. The person directly to my right veered off to come at me. He must have thought that I was an easier target. While I was attacked, the other three clashed in the center. I didn't have a chance to hide my second sword. It was all I could do to deflect his blade. He came at me with a series of blinding flashes, making it feel like I was the fighter with one blade and my opponent had two.

Every time I deflected his blade, I was unable to counter. When I sought to follow up with either of my swords, his blade was somehow already coming at me. Each move I made felt as if it was already part of his plan.

As the encounter continued, I took several cuts across my forearms and one deep into my chest. As steel passed through part of my pectoral muscle, I felt the strength leave my grip. Only through sheer bitterness was I able to keep my sword in hand. Stumbling backward, I landed on my rear and then immediately rolled out of the way of a downward strike.

Just as I thought I was about to be finished off, my attacker had to turn and guard himself as a roaring man charged at his side. Had the trio's fight concluded?

I looked over and saw that, no, they were almost fighting a duel. Each of them had their blades flashing as they took turns attacking and defending. I could see how the third might have felt left out and gone to fight their own battle.

Rolling to my feet, I left specks of blood in the sand as I scrambled away from my interrupted fight. For my health, I was unwilling to engage with my previous opponent, who was clearly more than my match. For now, I would watch for an opportunity as I recovered.

I did my best to not make too much noise as I circled over to the dueling pair. As their swords locked, I saw an opportunity. The fools were so focused on each other and their dule they forgot they weren't alone. With a few careful steps, I was within reach of them both. I slashed out with both my blades. By the time they even realized I was there, I had both of their throats laid open. As if their strings were cut, they both fell and quickly bleed out in the sand.

Not wanting to fall into the same trap those two just had, I kept looking around myself. My previous opponent and the newcomer were still locked in a ferocious battle. This one was not nearly as graceful or chivalrous as the one I had just interrupted.

They hacked, slashed, kicked, punched, and generally battered each other in a circle. I moved to position myself, but I saw that they were well aware that I was the only other one left. But neither of them could spare enough attention to come at me. Unfortunately, judging by their brief glances at me, I would not be able to pull off the same trick again.

I wasn't sure if that was because they were aware of my underhanded tactics or just that they were more situationally aware than the two nimrods I had just skewered. So I stayed close, trying to maintain the grip on my blade with my injured arm. As I stilled, the soreness in my muscles started to creep in. The blood soaking into my shirt made me worried that blood loss would do me in before one of these did. Moments passed, but slowly, the tide turned.

My initial opponent was being pressed back and took a few slight wounds right as I thought it was over. In desperation, he dove forward, tackling his opponent to the floor. They transitioned to pummeling and grappling on the ground in moments.

Eventually, I saw that one sword was lost, and then quickly, the other was as well. My opponent crawled onto the back of the interloper and locked in some sort of chokehold. As the man on his back slowly strangled him, he clawed at the arm gripping his throat. It was no use as he was slowly turning purple. He gnashed his teeth and punched over his shoulder, connecting with the face several times, but all his effort was not enough to loosen the choke.

Seizing my chance, I strode over with a few quick steps and dropped one sword. With both arms, I positioned the sword point down. Throwing all my weight into the act, I pushed on the pommel. In a single motion, I drove it into the exposed back. My sword continued through both of them, pinning them to the ground.

Rolling to the side, I collapsed to my knees, looking up at the pitch-black nothing that surrounded us. I could swear I heard a faint chuckle from above, but I couldn't be sure of anything over the sound of my labored breathing.

I grabbed my sword and another one that was lying nearby and forced myself up to my feet. Standing there, my injuries burned like hell. I waited as everything faded black and the arena reset for the fourth time. Again, I appeared in another sandy ring with one man casually walking towards me.

This man was different from anyone I had seen here so far. He didn't wear the leathers and furs that the previous opponents had. Instead, he was dressed in what looked like fine silk. He moved with a grace that was even beyond Bjorn.

He was smaller than me, several inches shorter and a little wiry. But I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were not the same. His eyes flicked down to the two swords, and his lip curled up in a sneer. Already, I couldn't help but hate this guy. What a prick. Thinking that because he was so much better than me, I should just lie down and die. I would be an idiot to not take every advantage I could.

I spurred my legs into a half-hearted charge, blades raised to meet him. Slashing with both my swords, I missed as he ducked under one and did not even bother to raise his own sword. I didn't even see the move that slammed his fist into my gut. The blow drove the wind out, sending me to my knees. As I struggled to pull in a breath, I felt cold steel plunge into my back.

A boot between my shoulder blades shoved me to the ground. Face first into the dirty sand. With a small splash, a glob of spit landed in the sand in front of my face. His hiss barely carried to my ears. "What a disgrace."

As everything went black. I couldn't roll myself over and meet my Valkyrie face-to-face as I had done before. All I could do was wait for Mary to come and carry me off to the feasting hall. There, I could fill my belly with food and ale and sleep in the warmth of a hearth again. It was just so cold.

But it wasn't Mary's voice that found me. Instead, it was a man's alto, a relatively high voice compared to the gruff barbarians I'd been used to hearing around here. It echoed from the blackness that completely enveloped me. "My, my, you are rather interesting. I'll be keeping my eye on you. If you ever want to chat, take the bow and go to the third ring. I'm sure we could strike some sort of bargain."