EV Chapter 5:

Chapter 5:

I pinched one of my swords between my knees, flipped off the cork of the vial with one hand, and downed it. It may have been arrogance, but I thought I had a chance to go all the way this time.

Immediately, I felt the fatigue wash away, and my muscles swell. Not only did I feel more powerful, I felt faster. My sense of balance was slightly better, and my eyes processed information just a touch quicker. I rolled my neck and heard it pop. Crouching low, I launched myself to sprint into the center and began.

I was already halfway to the center of the arena when the other four opponents started to move. It was as if they were moving in slow motion. It was not really that much slower than me, but it was just enough where I had a chance to think. As I ran, I found that somehow, I could adjust my normal untrained reactions with actual thought and planning. Normally, thinking would lose me that half-second edge that people who have trained forever always had.

When I passed the center point, I engaged the person directly across from me. He brought his blade up to block and managed to slip to the side of my second blade. The maneuver put him off balance, and I twirled in a counter-rotation motion to try to take him again. He managed to block it. As I landed from my spin after my initial collision, I set my feet, and we began to go back and forth.

Occasionally, my opponent would get in a strike, but he wasn't the same massive man that a lot of the people around here were. He was around my size, if a bit more beefy in the arms. But when our blades met, I felt very little strength discrepancy. If anything, I was lighter on my feet as well. While his skill was superior to mine, he wasn't very familiar with fighting someone with two weapons.

As he braced a block of an overhand chop with my right hand, I bent my whole body into it, forcing him to strain. I wasn't in any position to bring my other sword to bear, but I stuck its tip in the ground and flicked up some sand into his face as he looked down, bracing.

The grains barely brushed his eyes, but it made them water, and he started blinking. And the next time I swung at him, I swung leisurely where he could block. But I remembered Bojrn's advice, so I made my feint a threat. If he did nothing, the swing would hit his shoulder. My feint worked, and I followed up with a kick to his leg. That was something he didn't see coming as he tried to clear his eyes.

It didn't do much damage besides forcing him slightly off balance. He staggered backward, trying to put space in between us. I dashed forward. A simple swing opened up a cut on his thigh with one sword that he was too slow to block. Now, with his blade out of position, my other blade crashed into his upper arm, and I heard the bone snap. He managed to hold on to his blade, but there was no way he would effectively use it. So I ran him through, one opponent down.

I turned myself around, searching for the other three people in the arena with us. Luckily, none of them decided to attack my back while I was distracted. They were in a melee, fighting with each other. I reoriented myself and came in from behind, diving low at one of the more skilled opponents.

My sword flashed through the back of his knee, and he went down in a startled cry. The other two turned to me instead of fighting each other as I had hoped. This forced me to scramble back to my feet and back away before the downed fighter had a chance to retaliate. He wasn't going to move anywhere, but he still held on to his sword. 

The two opponents exchanged a look that made my guts sink, and they started coming at me from two sides. Their splitting up was smart. It would put me on the defensive and limit my advantage of having two blades, but it gave me just the slightest opening. I took advantage of my increased speed and balance and went after the slower opponent. 

He was a big man, several inches taller than me and at least twice my weight. There was a bit of a belly on him, but it was more like a powerlifter's gut rather than the body of someone who had gone soft from lack of effort. The sword looked like a toothpick in his meaty hand, but he moved it around surprisingly fast, much faster than he could move his feet.

That was fine with me. I caught it with one blade and kicked up with the toe of my boot, connecting to his inner thigh. He barely shifted to avoid the nutshot I was planning.

When his blade met mine, he blew past my block, almost throwing my sword out of my hands. I was barely able to just dodge out of the way. The monstrous blow sent me stumbling forward, as I wasn't expecting this weird combination of forces. I tucked my swords to my sides, turning my stumble into a somersault. He was a little too slow to catch me as I passed him.

Getting up to my feet, I tried to slice behind me as I got up. It didn't quite work as I wanted it to. I hadn't practiced this maneuver and almost lost my balance again. By the time I regained my feet, he had already made a full turn, but my main goal had been accomplished. He stood between me and his new ally. Showing surprising faith in his temporary alliance, he didn't check behind him to see if he was about to be stabbed in the back and instead took steps towards me.

I bounced on my toes slightly and feinted to the left before going right. He read my feint and met my attack with a chopping blow. This time, I brought up both swords, crossed to catch his blow, and managed to hold it. However, he still had an empty fist, which he swung at me. I felt ribs crack as his fist hammered into the side of my chest. The force nearly lifted me off my feet because of his shift of momentum, though the pressure on my blades let up. Taking advantage, I could disengage my supporting blade and slash at his wrist even as it withdrew from its impact with my side.

The man only let out a grunt of pain, and his face didn't even flicker as I severed the tendons in his forearm, nearly cutting down to the bone. He was starting to withdraw his blade for another attack. But I wasn't going to let him get any momentum back. I lunged forward, trying to finish this as quickly as possible before the other fighter managed to flank me. I hacked at both his stomach and his head from different directions simultaneously. He tried to step back, but his feet just weren't quick enough.

I opened up his stomach even as he managed to block the head blow. He took staggering steps towards me, but I kept backing away, searching for the other opponent. As I saw him coming around, the big man stumbled to his knees, clearly bleeding out. 

My last opponent was a bit taller than me, a bit stronger than me, and a bit faster than me. He had been more than willing to let his temporary ally take the brunt of the fighting while trying to sneak up on me, so I hadn't seen his sword skill yet. Luckily, the blessing of Loki was still flooding through my veins, and I felt invincible. I bounced on my toes, feeling ready, like I could move in any direction at any slight provocation without losing my balance. 

The man circled with me on his toes, but I could feel I was just a little ahead. Perhaps it was just overconfidence from my incredible run so far. Perhaps it was the blessing making me foolish. But I charged him halfway through our circle. 

I didn't even attempt to use my left blade as I swung my right with as much force as I possibly could. The blow came directly at his side, forcing him to block or step out of the way. He chose to block, and our swords met in a ringing clash that sent vibrations into my elbow and nearly made me drop my blade. Of course, those same vibrations were also running into his hand, and he flinched from the force of the blow. Surprise showed on his face from my opening move.

This wasn't something that most experienced fighters would try. Such a strong, reckless attack left me wide open. Honestly, it sounded like a great way to break a sword blade, too, but I didn't know what I was doing, so that didn't stop me. 

Finally, I remembered that I had a second blade and slashed at him with it. He stepped back and riposted with a thrust to my stomach. I twisted out of the way, taking a thin cut along my already bruised ribs. But I slashed as I turned my twist, and he ducked under it. I tried with the back edge on the backswing, and this time, I caught him as he was coming up from his duck. 

It wasn't fight-ending, but I dug a furrow through his nose and sent him cursing backward as blood dripped into his mouth. Not wanting to give him a second to recover. I was on him with a flurry of blows. The goal was not to make it through his defenses with each one but rather to simply keep him busy. Each blow was sent with 50 percent power. Still, each one chained into another, never leaving him an opening, making him block and constantly dodge. 

Eventually, he slipped up. He was just a little too slow to move out of the way, and I was able to score a cut across his sword arm, forcing him to drop his blade. After that, it was only a matter of seconds before he was dead on the floor. 

I stood panting, waiting for the arena to change, but it didn't. Looking around, I noticed that my first opponent was still very much alive. If unable to walk. He had forced himself to one knee and one foot and was trying to stand but kept failing as the lower half of his leg was not responding to anything his body would do. He glared up at me in fury. 

Perhaps this was the wrong approach, I considered as I walked over to put him out of his misery. My shady tactics were definitely getting me farther in the competition and keeping me out of the cold. But it wasn't winning me any friends. 

Salidin finding and fighting Bjorn and me was a perfect example of what would happen if someone took offense to my methods. Though in the end, I shrugged. I was going to do what I had to do. And maybe if I ran into one of my friends that I knew from outside the fights, I'd fight honorably. But for now, that just wasn't my style. 

The arena faded when the last opponent died. I just matched my previous best, and I was barely injured. A few bruised ribs and a thin, shallow cut along my side were the only signs that I had just fought and killed seven men. The darkness lingered a bit longer than I had expected or remembered. 

In the inky blackness between arenas, I heard a faint voice laughing in the distance. Before I could really think through the implications, the arena appeared, and my opponent was already waiting for me on the other side of the sand.

However, something was different about this man than the others I had faced. He was actually a hand shorter than me but a little stockier. In his eyes was a darkness, something that the beady blackness of them made me shiver. But what really drew my attention was that in his left hand, he also held a second sword.

His eyes studied me with the same intensity that I watched him. They scanned me up and down before they rested on the two swords I held at the ready. He froze for a split second before he threw back his head and roared out the fakest laughter I had ever heard. "Ha. Ha. Ha! What a cruel joke, Loki. You're so funny." 

I wasn't sure how to respond, but he didn't give me a chance to think about it as he ran forward with both blades. I panicked. This man was fast, as fast as I was, with Loki's blessing. Worse, he clearly held the swords with more confidence than me. I had never fought someone else with two blades. But if this guy was also here because of Loki, it kind of made sense. Loki was testing us. And I needed to prove myself.

Meeting his first blade with my own, I slammed it out of the way and ducked out the side to avoid the second slash while bringing my second blade to bear. He slipped back, and I spun to continue my momentum as I knocked the blade out of the way but was only blocked by his other blade.

We went back and forth several times, exchanging hand-wringing blows as our bars of steel met in between us, each sending sound waves rippling throughout the arena to disappear into the inky void surrounding us. I threw every single trick I knew at him.

I flung sand. I kicked. I tried to use the back edge of my blade in surprising ways or punch with the pommel when I was too close. But each time, he had a counter. When I had to raise my hand to block sand, I felt a shin collide with my knee and could barely duck out of the way of another swing.

As we fought. I swear I could hear the laughing I remember from the transition coming back to us, and a second voice joined in. Another one that wasn't laughing but grumbling, muttering some curses and complaints. I couldn't quite make out, but I could tell he was not pleased. Eventually, the fight broke apart in a natural lull.

We stood apart from each other, panting, both marred with cuts and bruises but relatively functional. Our eyes met, and we acknowledged each other for the first time. Working my tongue through my mouth, I gathered a bit of blood and spit it off to the side. The man across from me did something similar.

"Jorg," he said. 

I blinked, confused. "Huh."

"My name is Jorg." He repeated.

"Miles." I introduced myself. I liked the way he thought. Perhaps we could find each other and maybe figure something out in Valhalla. He nodded, and we lunged at each other.