The Duel

“You don’t need to do this, you know.” Balam helped Renji put on some basic armor in preparation for his duel. His eyes lingered on the scars that were now visible on Renji’s arms and hands. “Have you been through a lot?” He asked, continuing to assist Renji unfalteringly while the would-be warrior examined the weapon rack behind Balam. “I know. I can’t really back down now, though.” Renji admitted, his eyes looking over the numerous, fantastical weapons lining the wall. It would appear exotic weapons are more commonly used in this world, more unusual and unconventional combat styles must be more readily available due to the inclusion of magic, but Renji had no luxury, he’d have no choice but to rely on the conventional.

“A lot is…a word for it.” Renji sighed, wishing that Balam hadn’t noticed his scars. Had he removed his shirt, they’d certainly be worse and Balam’s worries would only grow, but he didn’t want to recount a history that he had already lost. All that was left for him was to try and make a new, better history for himself. “I’m curious, Balam, what weapon do you use?” Quick to change the subject, Renji already knew what he wanted, but he didn’t want to decide until he was absolutely sure. “Me? Well, I usually change what I use to fit the situation, but if I had to pick one and one only, I’d have to go with my trusty halberd. We’ve been through a lot, and it’s a versatile weapon. Spear tip, good cutting blade, and it can be used effectively at a variety of ranges. Are you thinking that this is what you want?”

“No, I mean—don’t get me wrong, the halberd is a fine weapon. It’s a wonderful choice, but I can’t see myself winning against Illya with it.” Renji could feel the jerkin tighten around him as Balam finished the final touches on his armor, making it hard for him to breathe for a moment. Balam would walk back to Renji’s front, a stoic and firm expression on his face.

“You’re truly looking to win, aren’t you? I don’t know if you’re just foolish or bold. Most people wouldn’t dare stand up to Princess Illyandaril. Her temper and pride aside, her strength has no equal.” Balam’s fortified gaze met Renji’s once more before he stepped back, giving him some space. “She says she will hold back, but if you press her hard enough she will forget her own promise. She didn't see losing as an option. Set a firm limit. We have healers on hand, but do not humour her attempts to change the rules of the duel. I shall act as a judge to determine the fairness of a fight, but if I think you’re in serious danger, I will end it early. Am I clear, Outworlder?”

That Balam didn’t use Renji’s name this time spoke to how serious this was, at least in his mind. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being looked down on. Was it pity that Balam was giving him? Some form of tough love, trying to get him to quit for his own safety? There was a pressure that wasn’t there before, but Renji couldn’t let himself back down now. People have told him in the past that it was okay to give up, or that he could just try again another day, but it always rang so hollow to him, he knew he couldn’t get anywhere by moving backwards.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, but I have to do this. As for what weapon I’ll use…” Renji passed Balam, kneeling down by the weapon rack to pick up his weapon of choice. “What do you think of this?” He asked, feeling a small surge of confidence as the weapon felt just right as he picked it up. “Hm, it suits you, I suppose. I thought you were going to pick something else, but I’m curious to see what drove you to choose such a weapon. When you’re ready, please head out that door there, I’ll be waiting.”

As he put his helmet on, Renji passed by a mirror. He stopped, briefly, taking in his appearance for the first time since coming to this new world. His shoulder-length, dark brown hair hung just beneath his helmet, light-brown highlights barely visible under the dim light. His body seemed mostly the same — hazel eyes that matched his highlights, the same fit build, the same sharp face. “At least,” he thought to himself. “This isn’t reincarnation. I don’t have to learn how to live with a new body or face. Small mercy, I suppose.” With a sigh, he kept his weapon close at his hip before he walked out, ready to prove that his years of casual martial arts practice was worth the effort.

Stepping out into the sun’s light, Renji drew his weapon; a swept-hilt rapier. It had an uncanny resemblance to the types he was used to back home, though this was a dull practice weapon and not an actual lethal blade, but the heavier weight on the hilt allowed him more control, and given his opponent had legendary strength, he didn’t stand a single chance at attempting a head-on battle where she could display her strength.

“About time.” Illya grumbled, her usual disdain missing from her tone. She held a practice greataxe, still far too big for her, and just as intimidating. “Really, you picked that little thing? Figures,” she huffed, sighing with frustration as she took her position. “Say, why don’t we change the rules of the duel a little? I feel like we should just go at it until one of us can’t move anymore, what do you say?”

“I’ll pass.” Renji wasn’t having it. The system that the King ordered earlier was for his own protection, after all, and he does not yet know if her incredible strength translates to incredible durability. It’d be a fight he possibly cannot win.

“Alright, we’re using a ‘three strikes’ format for this battle. If one of your blades lands a solid blow on your opponent's body, that counts as a strike. It must be the body, thigh, head, or neck, but we will not allow strikes to the neck here for safety reasons. If you cause your opponent to fall upon his or her back, that will count as a strike. The fighter struck three times is the loser. Finally, after a strike has been called, please return to a neutral battle position. Any questions?” Balam called, standing far away at the sides. Looking back and forth between either fighter, neither of them have any questions. They’re ready to go. “In that case, begin!!”

Renji’s plan was simple. From what he could assess of the princess, she was overconfident, her arrogance plain for all to see. She would be the aggressor, and he would simply have to respond. He had practiced martial arts as a hobby, but only got into swordplay the last few years as an advancement of said hobby. He was confident that, with his experience, he could very well stand a chance as long as Illya’s attack patterns were simple enough, such that even he should be able to skirt along just by and win this three strike duel.

Assuming she held back as promised.

What Renji had miscalculated was the degree at which she promised to hold back, and as her feet effortlessly left the ground in a forward leap to him, he barely had time to process just how quickly she had closed the gap between them before he could react. Throwing himself to the left, he barely avoided what surely would have been a decisive blow. With how the earth shattered beneath her blade, he could find no opening for reprisal, especially not in his shocked state. Illya did not let up, however, and with a swift pirouette, spun her axe back around to meet him as he was still recovering from his dodge. He couldn’t evade this one. He raised his rapier in a desperate attempt to put anything between him and her blade. It was there where he truly felt just how overwhelming the strength difference was. The rapier’s blade bent slightly, but his strength wasn’t enough to bind her blade or otherwise stop it. The blade of his rapier was pressed against his body as he was thrown off his feet, flung across the training grounds. Nobody gasped but Nemi, though a few of the other spectators flinched. He hadn’t broken a rib, but if this was her “holding back,” he thought that even a dull blade like the one she wielded would have the strength to cleave him in two had she meant it.

“Well, give up yet, Outworlder?” Illya called to him, taking a proud stance. She had always intended to end this duel in just one strike. Face-down on the ground for a moment, Renji stood up slowly, rapier clutched tightly in his hands. He has seen her power, he understands even more where her pride comes from, but he saw something she didn't yet realize. She may have unbelievable strength, and she had good speed on her step-in because of it, but her normal speed wasn’t anything unusual. In fact, Renji saw that her swing speed was significantly slower than that of his mentor, and even Renji managed to score the rare win against him. Getting back into his stance, a smirk formed on his face. Despite the pain, and the adrenaline that caused his hand to lightly tremble, Renji knew in the back of his mind one simple truth; he could win this.