Forged Destiny [Book 8: Ch. 6]

I'd never seen another Swordmaster before. Never heard of one. I had so many questions I'd have liked to ask him if our situations had been kinder.

As it was, with the Greycloaks set on slaughtering us, I charged in and brought Crocea Mors down atop his head. The weapon cut through the air and the decking in front of him as he dodged back, brought his sword in and lunged for my chest.

Turning, I let the tip skate off my breastplate and assisted it with a little push from my hand, drawing my sword up within his guard. The tip ticked his throat as he leaned back and he ducked low, spinning and striking at my legs.

Jumping over the blade, I dashed past him, up onto the steps he'd just come down from. While the footing was uneven, the height advantage was still one to try and hold against a strong opponent. His blade flicked out, testing my guard, but when I drove it down into the step below and nearly took his head off, he decided against it, dashing to the other set of stairs to even the odds.

I hurried up to the helm, running across the railing to try and cut him off before he could reach the same level as I. Waves splashed up the side of the ship to make it lurch and groan in the water, creaking against the Wind's Fury and splashing salt water to make our footing treacherous. I grabbed the railing to steady myself, and even he, pirate captain that he was, had to grab on with one hand and use it to haul himself up.

I reached the top first, held the advantage, and prepared to use it. He could only strike at my feet and legs, while I had all the strength and height to take on his head and upper shoulders. Prepared to use it, I thrust down.

The captain's eyes flickered with light.

He was on me a second later, sliding his sword under my guard in a Skill-based thrust that had closed the distance faster than I could ever hope to predict. I managed to turn, enough to lessen the damage, but it still scored a deep groove into my armour, nicking and drawing blood on my flank where the breastplate didn't cover me.

While painful and bloody, the wound wasn't a dangerous one, cutting through flesh and fat rather than muscle. It still hurt and I gasped, grappling his arm and using my superior Strength to hold him still as I drove my forehead down into his nose.

The Swordmaster obviously hadn't expected it. His eyes widened before neither of us could see any more. I staggered back with one eye clenched shut, which was nothing compared to his response. He sagged against the railing and caught it with one hand, the other holding the hilt of his sword to his forehead as he tried to catch his breath.

Whether it was instinct or not, he rolled aside when I swept down, splitting the railing in two. His counter-attack was weak, bouncing off my shoulder and striking with the flat of the sword. He danced back instead, putting some distance between us while he recovered his wits. I would have followed but for the ship lurching once more, toppling me to the side.

[...]

Bringing Crocea Mors up before me, I advanced with caution, keeping my footwork even and preparing for any counter attack. He was still holding his head with one hand, but I didn't miss the glint of his pale eyes through his fingers.

A feint. He was watching.

The moment I came within range, he lashed out, eyes glinting as he cut upward with sudden speed, his sword a blur of red steel. If I hadn't been ready for it, I'd have been cut from groin to shoulder, but I had been and Crocea Mors rang with the impact, blocking it low. Keeping our blades locked there, I rushed in with my shoulder and pinned him to the back railing, determined to knock him off and into the ocean below.

It might not kill him, but he'd be out of the fight, and I'd like to see him get back on with Weiss hurling spells into the water. With all the negativity we were causing, the Grimm could not be far behind.

"Gah!"

"Hngh!"

We fought two battles; one for him to keep his footing against my weight and the other an attempt to free his weapon and bring it on me. He might have had other weapons, but my Strength was higher than a Swordmaster's, I had to assume. Not everyone boasted an A-Stat and most warriors focused on resilience instead. A Swordmaster sounded like something more Dex-based, which made sense since I'd gotten a bump in that Stat. If he let go with one hand, I'd stab his sword down into the deck, then drag mine up and disembowel him. He knew it.

"I will not die here." the Swordmaster hissed.

"Funny," I shot back. "Neither will I."

Something had to give. In the end, it was him. As skilled as he might be, he couldn't put up with my raw Strength, and Dexterity and Agility meant nothing once I'd grappled him. He fell to the side, letting go of his sword and accepting the savage wound I put into his side as he scrambled away. His long grey coat was slashed through and he tore it off and aside, out over the railing, revealing a tight black outfit underneath, a black tunic over black trousers tucked into his boots. His side was bleeding badly, one hand clamped over it.

[...]

His eyes flashed with power.

A Skill! I held back instantly, wanting as much distance between us to react.

He drew a circle in the air with his weapon and then pointing it towards me and whispering, "Four Flowering Petals."

My eyes widened.

That was my Skill.

Four attacks. Simultaneous. He didn't take a step towards me or strike at all, but my instincts screamed that four attacks were coming, and I just about saw the glimmer of red light before the firs struck. I tried to block it, bringing Crocea Mors up, but it slammed down onto my shoulder. Another caught me on my right, above my hip. The third scored my left, under my armpit – and the fourth cut a large gash into my thigh, dropping me to one knee.

They were impossibly fast. Impossible to block.

His eyes flashed again.

Two could play that game. My world shifted as the words over my head changed – stunning the Swordmaster fort a brief moment. That was all I needed to dig my sword down, push up onto unsteady feet and spin Crocea Mors in a circle.

"Four Flowering Petals," I hissed.

The man's eyes widened. The four attacks came just as fast, striking down from four angles at once, but, unlike with his attack, they didn't strike at his body. Instead, each blow rained down on his weapon, striking it twice on either side above the hilt, once on the tip and then a final time from below, directly up into his pommel. The weapon shattered in his hands, metal falling to the deck like glass from a broken mirror.

Twisting Crocea Mors so it pointed directly at him, I tried to end the fight quickly. My leg might have been injured, but I didn't entirely need it to close the distance. "Piercing Thrust."

Instantly, I was sweeping across the deck, lunging for him.

That he managed to dodge was a miracle. No. It was because he knew what to expect, because he had the same Skills as me – or some similar – and thus knew exactly what I was about to do. He rolled to the side leaving blood smeared behind. As my sword smashed the railing behind him to pieces, he grabbed the rope tied nearby and looped it over and around my neck from behind, strangling me.

I got a hand up in time to stop that, but found it pinned to my neck and chin as he pulled it tight, then unhooked the rope from the metal hook. It spiralled away and the sails fell, the rope going taut and hauling me off my feet, choking me. Crocea Mors fell from my hand as I was dragged up, eyes blurring as I struggled to breathe.

A flash of black passed above me, severing the rope before I could be lynched. Or, more likely, before my neck snapped. I landed hard on the deck and gasped for breath. Footsteps had me looking up in time to see my assailant charging in with Crocea Mors in hand, bringing it down towards my neck.

"For the Mirage Isles!" he roared.

I threw myself to the side, just as a black shadow came crashing down on my position.

—Forged Destiny [Book 8: Ch. 6]