The Kingdom of Scavia #8

“Phew–” Akiro huffed, “They’re coordination is better than I thought.”

Akiro twirled the scythe again, a steady hail of arrows constantly being deflected. Kenji, the tanker, slowly advanced with his dual shields to retrieve Hitomi. Excluding Ayama, Masashi, himself and the two that were eliminated, there were now six more.

“To be more accurate, there are seven of them left, but Hitomi is only unconscious, not disqualified.” The assassin chewed his inner cheek. “What a pain.”

“Kenji, someone focused on defense; Haruto, a commanding leader; Yaso is their covering firepower; Yamazaki, their damage-dealer; Nishimura, another dealer, but unconscious; Matsuko and Ryuta, their tamer and Alchemists- both wildcards.”

Akiro squinted, watching as the unconscious Samurai was being nursed behind Haruto and Kenji. When he focused, he could see Matsuko administering a small vial of liquid.

“I see, Matsuko was the one who laced Toshio’s kunai.” Akiro frowned, flexing his left hand. During the ninja’s attack, the kunai barely pierced his clothing, but the liquid was absorbed through his skin nonetheless. “So that’s why my kicks earlier felt sluggish. He’s their trump card.”

Akiro waved the scythe at Haruto, “Impressive, you’ve actually managed to form a strategy despite the circumstances.” he praised, “So what does that make Ryuta? What can he do?”

“Thank you, but you certainly shouldn’t be downplaying your own feats.” Haruto hummed, drawing his longsword and raising his shield. “We are all heroes here. We are blessed with powers almost unfair in nature, yet you’ve managed to stand against multiple.”

As soon as the blade was unsheathed, a heavy force pushed down on Akiro, and it came just from Haruto’s glare. The sight was exactly the same as Kaiser’s, and was probably the result of them having the same class; But whatever the reason may be, the glare was nothing to scoff at, because that was the power of a High-Knight.

“Damn it–” Akiro gritt, “I want to praise him, but if what happened in that carriage happens again, we’ll lose! I can’t risk it. I’m going to fight him tactically blind!”

What is a High-Knight exactly? It isn’t officially defined, but throughout the history of the Earlshide Kingdom, their armies were led by officials bearing the prefix of: ‘High.’ Simply put, bearing the modifier of ‘High,’ that class or specification immediately classes itself leagues above the normal. In other words, they were special, one-in-multitudes of occurrences blessed with incredible strength.

“What fierce tenacity,” The queen hummed, the fighting spirit of Haruto reaching her end of the arena. She turned to her side, seeing Sume particularly entrapped by it. “Well, isn’t this something?” She smiled, but then returned to the fight her other daughter was paying attention to.

The fight was simple, Masashi would throw a punch and Ayama would block, parry or counter. If it was summarized into a few words, then they were evenly matched. Now both of them were ill-equipped without protective equipment, thus making the fight risky for either parties, even more so that the Berserker must enter within range of the Knight, who in turn, cannot fight without swords.

It was a tangible balance that continuously tipped to either of their favor, with blows being traded for blows and combinations being retaliated with combinations. A stalemate that can only be decided by will, intelligence and acceptance to risks that proved to be incredibly painful.

And Ayama was more confident while Masashi was more wary.

“Oh my foolish husband, how cruel you are.” The queen cooed, leaning on Stephen’s shoulder. “Do they pass your test, dear?”

“Kaguya…” The king hummed, “They certainly are a usable lot, but they’re not entirely useful. Only a handful of them are worth their weight in gold.”

“I see,” The queen nodded, “We can only hope that they will improve in the future, for the incoming cataclysm.”

Shing! Ching!

Ayama slashed Masashi’s armored fist, and sparks flew from the colliding metal. Masashi threw another fist with his other hand, only for it to be parried again with a backhanded slash. Frustrated, Masashi squared both his arms, putting them close to his head and stepped closer, deeper within Ayama’s killzone.

“Damn you!” The berserker glowered, throwing three jabs and a near-invisible right uppercut; but Ayama was ready for it, using only the steel closest to his handle to block the first three.

Chi-Chi-Clang!

“I got you!”

The first three forced Ayama to move his arm just slightly to the right, allowing the uppercut to slip underneath his guard; but the blow never connected, Ayama’s head tilted back just enough for Masashi’s knuckles to brush his chin.

Shiig!

Ayama smirked, staring straight into the sky. He positioned his shield so that the top edge would connect first. “[ Shield Bash ]”

Bam!

Since Masashi’s right arm was used, his right flank was open, susceptible to the shield; and the concentrated force rattled his brain, and he fell over his bottom, not cognizant, the world spinning around him.

King Stephen huffed, satisfied with his performance, and promptly declared his elimination. “Hamasuki Masashi, eliminated.” He said, looking now at the other match on the other half of the court, the volume of the colliding steel being much sharper than Ayama’s bout.

But the Hero fell to his knees, “S-Shit– My bones!” He groaned, “Damn it, Masashi– you hit way too fucking hard. I can’t help Akiro in this state.”

Clank! ching!

“S-So heavy!” Akiro gasped, tilting his Scythe just so the blade would repel Haruto’s sword, “I’m only parrying it, and even with a 3:1 leverage advantage, I’m still struggling!--”

“Although it’s still awkward, you handle that weapon well.” Haruto observed, his sword still clashing with the scythe’s blade, the continuous movements prohibiting him from advancing forward.

“Damn it!” Akiro cursed loudly, his firm feet being pushed back with every clash of their sword. “I’m being pushed back! I’m not strong enough to withstand his sword head on! He doesn't even look like he’s tired!”

The unrelenting torrent of clashing weaponry echoed like an orchestra, sparks and fragments of steel flying with force, illuminating the arena. The repetitive blows to either of their weapons strained them, and they started to wear down. Minutes passed, the silence of it broken by Stephen announcing something that wasn’t good.

“Ayama Nobu, Eliminated.”

“W-What!?” Akiro’s stomach dropped, his eye immediately turning to his friend behind him; and he could be seen being carried by a stretcher, a steady stream of blood flowing from his mouth. “No!” he cried out in frustration, “Damn it! We’re going to lose!”

“You’re strong! I’ll admit that!” Haruto praised, slashing once before retreating a dozen steps back, “You leave me no choice, I’ll show you my trump card– My ultimate Skill.”

“He’s planning to end it, huh?” Akiro grimaced, annoyed at the words, “I’m not sure if I can win this one. My stamina is nearly depleted.”

“That’s how far he goes…” King Stephen said, leaning forward, “Or is it? Those are the eyes of someone willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish a goal. Tell me, what is your goal, Akiro Hiroto?”

While he watched, Kaiser made his way over to him. “Your Majesty! This is getting too dangerous!” He pleaded, “They’re going to be in danger at this rate!”

“Hmm…” The king hummed, waving his hand, “We already have protective measures in place.” Kaiser returned his attention back to the arena, the soldiers all clasping their hands together, silently chanting.

Haruto drew back the longsword, shedding the shield on his left arm; and mana began to collect in his sword. The mana turned a fiery red, much deeper than Masashi’s, before it settled calmly like a layer of neat orange. Haruto stomped the ground with his left foot, a small crater forming underneath it.

“My respects, Akiro.” Haruto huffed, puffing clouds of his breath, “For allowing me to test this skill of mine.” The class’s most popular member nodded with respect, but his kind words were not appreciated.

“...Go fuck yourself.” Akiro spat back, assuming a stance all too familiar to Haruto.

“...I see.” The boy replied, “We’re going to bet everything we have on this next blow, are we? But before we do, I’ll tell you something useful.”

Akiro breathed once, exhaling the cloud steadily. He stiffened his back, raising the scythe over his shoulder, his left arm grasping the shaft next to the speartip. Magic power surged within him, gathering on his four limbs.

Haruto steadied his gaze, “In this world, trustworthy comrades is what makes might.” The orange hue on his sword grew fiery once more, but it turned clear instead of red. “[ Judgment Sword ]”
Akiro leaned forward, his body following the motion of his weapon. He responded in kind. “[ Moonlight-Execution Style] Form 2: First Quarter.”

Haruto raised his sword in the air, the long coating of white mana extending as the metal of his sword slowly disintegrated inside of it. Akiro on the other hand, already moved from his starting position, his scythe’s trajectory already heading for his neck; but before the mana that had been gathered, to activate, something stopped the scythe in its tracks.

Two shields, interlocked, stopped the scythe’s blade from reaching Haruto.

“[ Absolute Fortress ]” Kenji huffed, a stream of blood slowly dripping from both his nostrils, “W-Wow, you hit really, really hard. [ Restrain ]”

“H-He blocked me!?” Akiro grew alarmed, but when he tried to move, chains of mana grew from the ground, enveloping his lower body. “What is this!?

Within the time it took a human to blink, Yamazaki appeared, her fists inches away from his stomach. Hefty punches riddled his abdomen sending tremors of pain throughout his body; and only on the last hit did his bindings become undone, and Akiro was thrown to the Monarch’s side, still within the arena and terribly unconscious.

Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Bam!

King Stephen looked at the unconscious Assassin and then back to Haruto, the brilliant sword of light dissipating, leaving only a hilt and handle behind. “Incredible, what an impeccable strategy.”

“Thank you for your kind words, your majesty.” Haruto bowed deeply. “I suppose that we will win this exercise?” he smiled, much to the appreciation of Sume, but King Stephen only shook his head. “Not yet, you haven’t shown me your resolve just yet.”

“Haruto, tell me.”

Haruto’s eyes grew, and he kneeled respectfully on the ground. “What is it, your majesty?” he asked.

“Why is it that you haven’t won yet?” King Stephen asked simply, “Akiro is unconscious, but he is still not disqualified from the exercise. You managed to see through the true essence of my experiment, surely you understand what you have to do.”

Haruto looked up to the King, really confused; and it displeased Stephen. The king frowned, and pointed at Akiro, his words echoing dumbly in Haruto’s ears. “Finish him.”