"The first trial will be a trial by combat. The use of magic and skills is prohibited. For this is to test your skill with your chosen weapon." The Sergeant's voice reverberated across the arena. He did not raise his voice nor shout, but everyone heard him clearly.
A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. This trial would be child's play for me. Not only did I have the experience of two lives backing me, but I had always been considered a prodigy with the blade. No matter what type of sword was given to me, I would always excel. One does not become a General in the holy crusade without the skills to back it. I smelled sulfur before lines of fire began separating the arena into smaller rings where the duels would be held. I looked towards my squad members who had been separated by the lines of fire. Flashing them with a confident smile, I turned to the other contenders who joined me in my own cordoned off area. There were six of us in total, with only two of them seeming to be outliers, excluding me.
While the others looked around with fearful eyes, these two stood tall with calm calculation in their eyes. The one to the left was a stocky man with a thick beard; he had a few throwing axes by his side. His bushy eyebrows and thick nose made me think of him as a dwarf. Which he mostlikely was. The second outlier stood opposite the dwarf. He was tall and lean, with short black hair tied loosely at the back of his head. A longsword rested comfortably at his hip, the worn leather of its grip suggesting years of use. Unlike the others, his gaze did not wander around the arena. Instead, his eyes studied the rest of us with quiet patience, as though measuring the distance between life and death.
Interesting. A man like that was far more dangerous than the nervous fools shifting beside him.
Before I could observe further, the Sergeant's voice once again echoed across the arena.
"You will fight in pairs. The last man standing in each ring advances to the next stage."
Following his words, an officer entered each of the rings to act as judge of the fights. A murmur rippled through the participants.
The Sergeant ignored it and continued to speak. "Choose your opponent."
That single sentence caused the atmosphere within the ring to change instantly. Fear gave way to hesitation as several of the weaker contestants instinctively stepped backward. None of them wished to be the first to move.
Unfortunately for them, hesitation on a battlefield was often the same as suicide. So without hesitation, I stepped forward.
My gaze settled on the man with the longsword. If I were to test my blade today, I might as well start with someone who looked capable of wielding one. Our eyes met, showing once again that my judgment was not misguided. There was no fear in his eyes; he merely stood there observing me. Turning towards the officer, I gave him a nod to show that I was ready.
"The first two fighters have been chosen. Are both fighters ready?" He only looked towards my opponent, and when he gave the signal, the officer yelled. "Begin,"
Neither of us moved. I spread my feet shoulder-width apart for greater stability, readying my nodachi in front of me. Taking in a single deep breath, the world faded around me, and all that remained was my opponent as I entered a flow state. In this world, they call it the will of the blade. Few reached this state in their youth, often taking decades before they even approach it. I saw as my opponent's shoulder shifted slightly. To the left, then. Predicting his attack, I shifted my weight to my left leg, sweeping my leg low. My charging opponent did not react in time before my shin collided with his lead leg, throwing him off balance.
Right as I was about to capitalize on my advantage, I saw the mocking smile in his eyes. He spun with his fall, using it to generate more momentum as he brought his longsword around in a spinning slash. With my blade already angled down for a strike, I realized my mistake. I had fallen for his bait hook, line, and sinker. But I would not have been a prodigy if something like this were enough to take me down. Instead, I stepped forward very close to him, using the reach of his longsword against him. Only his forearm hit my chest before I kneed him in the ribs. The swordsman grunted as he took a step to the side.
Dashing back, I was once again outside of his reach. The sweat on my palms made me readjust my grip. I only looked down for a second, but that was more than enough time for him to close the distance. The whistling of the wind accompanied the horizontal swing of his blade. Bringing my nodachi up, I blocked the blow. Sparks slid off our blades from the impact. The block put pressure on my wrist from the awkward angle. Instead of fighting against his blow, I slid my nodachi off his blade. Turning my block into a parry, before moving into a counter. Shifting his weight, he managed to avoid a fatal blow; instead, my blade left a deep cut on his cheek, drawing first blood.
Not wanting to draw this fight out unnecessarily, I shifted my stance to be closer together. The stance of flowing water was designed for unpredictable movements and fluidity. Instead of the measured attacks I had made him accustomed to. I began to do strikes with relentless aggression. His style was not equipped to counter the constant attacks. So, within a few exchanges, I broke through his guard, and my blade moved downward with unrelenting force. I saw his eyes widen in surprise. Moments before my blade would have split his skull in two, I stopped. This was not a fight to the death after all, only a duel. Having secured my victory, I brought my blade back before sheathing it. "You did well," was my only response to him. But anyone who knows me would recognise that he has won my respect.