In the depths of Nazas dungeon, the large arena on the third floor was packed with monsters – hobgoblins, goblins, lightning wolves, and even a few slimes perched precariously on the upper tiers, all cheering, howling, and stamping their feet.
The reason for the commotion was an intense duel unfolding on sandy floor below. On one side, a hobgoblin warrior stood braced, his knuckles white as he gripped a crude wooden sword. His body strained, muscles bulging beneath green skin. Sweat poured down his brow, mingling with grime of the arena floor.
His opponent was an older human with the build of seasoned warrior. He stood well over 1.8 meters tall, his broad shoulders and thick arms speaking of decades of hard training. His face was a landscape of scars, crisscrossing pale lines against tanned skin, telling story of countless battles fought and won.
One scar ran diagonally from his forehead, over a milky white eye staring blankly ahead, and down to his jawline. His remaining eye glinted with fierce concentration, sharp and piercing. His graying hair was cropped short, and a neatly trimmed beard, streaked with white, framed his stern jaw.
Both combatants wore identical uniforms: sleeveless white gi made of durable spider-silk. The material shimmered faintly in the torchlight, light and flexible yet remarkably tough.
The old warrior lunged, his wooden sword whistling through the air in a blur of speed and precision that belied his age. The hobgoblin parried desperately, force of the blow sending shockwave up his arms and made him grunt in pain.
He tried to counter, swinging his blade in clumsy arc, but the old man effortlessly deflected it with a flick of his wrist, sending the hobgoblin staggering backwards.
"Hah! Too slow, whelp!" the old warrior barked, his voice rough and gravelly. "Is that all fury you can muster? Or did your mother coddle you too long?"
Chorus of jeers and taunts erupted from hobgoblin spectators at the insult, but the warrior in the arena merely snarled, yellow teeth bared in grimace.
The hobgoblin charged again, this time putting all his weight behind a powerful overhead slash. The old man met it with solid block, their swords locking by sharp crack. For a moment, they stood locked in a contest of sheer strength, the old man's one-eyed gaze unwavering while he slowly, inevitably forced the hobgoblin's sword downward.
"Strength means nothing if you lack control!" he growled. "Anger without purpose is wasted energy! Observe!"
With blinding speed, he stepped back and spun on one heel, his sword whipping around in horizontal strike that caught the stunned hobgoblin squarely across the ribs. The blow landed with a sickening thud, sending the hobgoblin crashing to the arena floor in cloud of dust. He landed hard on his back, groaning while clutching his side.
The old warrior stood over him, breathing hard but controlled, his sword pointed unwaveringly at the fallen enemy's throat. He didn't gloat, simply looked down with mixture of disdain and impatience.
"Get up," he commanded, voice flat. "Or stay down and accept your weakness."
The hobgoblin glared up at him, rage and humiliation warring in his eyes, but he made no move to rise.
The old warrior, Herriot, was about to deliver a final, scathing critique to the fallen hobgoblin when a high-pitched, manic shriek cut through the air.
"Come on, old geezer! Teach them properly!" a female voice cackled with malicious glee. "My Goddess let you live for a reason, right? Also, what was your name again? Nah, never mind. DIE!!!"
The old man spun around, his single eye widening in alarm just in time to see a figure lunging at him with impossible speed.
It was Evelyn.
The undead woman was nightmare given form. Her long white hair flew behind like banner as she moved. Her black bodysuit clung to her voluptuous frame, glossy and revealing, pale skin glowed an unnatural luminescence.
Her attack was blur of movement. Ten razor-sharp claws, gleaming like obsidian, slid from her fingertips with metallic shing. She brought them down in savage arc, aiming to disembowel the old man.
The warrior reacted with lightning reflexes. He brought his wooden sword up in desperate parry. The claws met hardwood. The sheer force of Evelyn's strike shattered the wooden sword into splinters, leaving Herriot holding only a useless handle.
"Huh!?" The old man grunted before immediately using the momentum of the shattered sword to launch himself into series of backflips.
He landed several meters away in crouch, breathing heavily, fragments of wood scattering around him. Evelyn skidded to a halt, claws scraping grooves in the arena floor, eyes burning maniacal fury.
"My name is Herriot, you fiend!" The old man growled, straightening up. He tossed the broken sword handle aside, look of disgust on his face. "It is true that your mistress spared my life for her twisted purposes. But I will not give up my sword art so easily for you filthy monsters!"
His voice dripping contempt, his single eye locked onto Evelyn with raging intensity.
Evelyn cackled again, the sound like shattered glass. "I don't fucking care what your name is, you bunch of murderers, rapists, thieves, and scum Red Death bandit!" she spat, claws gleaming under the arena's harsh lights. "You don't deserve to exist on the surface of the earth! You're just worms crawling in the dark, and I'm going to stomp you all flat!"
She lunged forward again, moving faster than eyes could follow, her claws raised to strike.
Herriot watched her approach, his expression grim. He took a deep breath, centering himself. "I have to use it eventually," he muttered, almost too low to hear.
Focusing at the opponent, he activated his Skill: [Resonance Blade].
Burst of mana erupted from his right hand. It coalesced and solidified, forming a gleaming, a meter-long blade of pure, sharpened energy. The blade was weightless, an extension of his own body, humming faintly with contained power.
He brought the shimmering blade up into defensive guard stance just when Evelyn's claws reached him, ready to meet her attack.
Evelyn's claws met Herriot's weapon amid a shriek of metal on energy. Sparks flew when she swiped downward in brutal, double-handed strike. Herriot parried the blow by flawless technique, the energy blade vibrating violently in his grasp.
He slid back half a step, absorbing the force then exploded into motion. He feinted high, then spun low, aiming a sweep at enemy's ankles.
Evelyn squealed, leaping nimbly over the shimmering blade. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet, already counterattacking with flurry of slashes aimed at Herriot's face and torso.
He met each strike, his sword weaving intricate patterns through the air in silver blur, deflecting opponent's onslaught. Each block and parry was perfectly timed.
The clash filled the arena with high-pitched shriek of claw on energy, the hum of the [Resonance Blade] and Evelyn's manic laughter. The monsters roared their approval, stamping their feet in deafening rhythm.
Gradually, Herriot began to press the advantage. His technique was flawless, his decades of experience allowing him to anticipate Evelyn's chaotic attacks. He turned defense into offense, blade flickering out to score glancing hits on her forearms, her thighs had only minor cuts, yet they were enough to slow her down.
A grim smile touched Herriot's lips. "Your speed is impressive, monster," he grunted, driving her back with series of rapid thrusts. "But brute force is no match for skill."
Evelyn snarled, her eyes narrowing. "You underestimate me, worm!" she hissed. "I have tricks of my own!"
Dark energy flared around her the moment she activated [Fear Aura]. Waves of oppressive dread pulsed outward from her body, washing over the arena. Monsters nearby cringed, whimpering. Herriot felt it too, his heart seized by a cold, clammy fear, threatening to freeze muscles.
The old warrior staggered slightly, face paling. The blade flickered in his hand, momentarily destabilized by the surge of terror.
Evelyn seized the opening, launching herself forward with renewed ferocity, her claws aimed for his heart.