Suddenly, with uncanny agility, my opponent shifted his direction, placing his feet in a single line. This allowed him to use his shield to deflect the full force of my spear. The momentum pulled me forward—exactly what he wanted. He expected this opening to close the distance and deliver a sword strike.
But I was the one who wanted to get close. Before a plan could even form in my mind, a sword flashed toward my chest with blinding speed. I mirrored his own tactic—shifting my weight, cutting the angles, and using my spear to redirect his blade. With a savage, full-powered kick, I struck his lead leg. The sickening crack of bone echoed instantly.
I moved to exploit the opening, driving my spear toward his shattered limb. But with strange, deceptive fluidity, he twisted his body twice in mid-air and drove his sword into my thigh. I felt the meat of my leg tear. Before I could process the pain, he launched a kick toward my genitals.
With speed that defied my massive frame, I leapt back. My opponent was unlike anyone I had ever fought—a veteran of a thousand life-and-death struggles. I was certain: if we were the same size, he would have crushed me. And I knew I was the only one in my class capable of holding my ground against him.
He was clearly in pain, but he didn't care. He watched me like a predator—short black hair, a large head, and eyes like a viper's. But I knew I would win. I had already robbed him of his greatest weapon: his speed.
I initiated the assault. I kept him at a distance with long spear thrusts. He blocked with his shield, but the sheer impact of my blows sent tremors through his entire frame. I didn't give him a second to catch his breath. Once, twice, ten, fifteen times—I hammered him relentlessly. I stayed outside his sword's reach, circling the arena in a lethal dance.
Finally, his arms grew too heavy to lift the shield. He seemed on the verge of collapse. The chance to end it was there—but I wasn't a fool. It was a bait. A man of his skill doesn't just give up; he was waiting for a desperate, final strike.
Instead, I began targeting his sword hand. He realised I wouldn't take the bait and began to jeer: "Hey, big man! Are you that much of a coward? Come and fight with honour! You're so tall I look like your son, so why are you hiding?"
I didn't answer. I kept picking at his hand until my spear found his shoulder. Desperation took hold of him, and his insults grew viler: "I promise you, big man... I'll take that red-haired sister of yours. I wonder how she'll taste?"
I looked at him with genuine confusion. *Does he think Miranda is my sister?* But the provocation worked. I despise rapists.
I lunged instantly, driving the spear at his chest. He tried his spinning manoeuvre again, but I was ready. As he turned, I delivered a kick even more brutal than the first. The blow sent him flying. When he hit the ground, he couldn't get back up. Both his legs were shattered. I looked down at my toes and saw bits of his flesh clinging to them.
I advanced and drove my spear into his abdomen repeatedly until the instructor intervened. After treating him, the instructor looked at me with newfound respect. "You're a fine warrior. Despite your size, you are fast, and your instincts are excellent. Even when you risk, you calculate. I commend you."
I headed for the exit, my thigh bleeding. But the instructor barked: "Where do you think you're going? Get back in the ring. You aren't finished."
I remembered then—this wasn't about winning. It was about conditioning the body to pain.
I returned to the fray. The next few opponents were weaker, and I crushed them despite my accumulating wounds. Finally, I faced the fifth opponent: **Wolfgang.**
A grin spread across his face. Usually, he would fear me, but now, as I stood drenched in blood and losing consciousness, it was his chance to break me. In the back alleys, Wolfgang was known as **"The Hyena"**—the scavenger. He was the most dangerous person to face when you were at your weakest.
Wolfgang wielded a longsword and an oversized dagger. I took a defensive stance, knowing he had the advantage. He attacked from every angle, his speed rivalling the viper-headed man. He was cunning, using his sword like a spear, then a shield, then a whip.
As my vision blurred and my strength failed, I prepared for one final, desperate blow. Suddenly, darkness. Sand hit my eyes. Before I could blink, I felt my intestines shift. Dagger strikes rained down, and the final thrust pierced my kidney.
The pain was unbearable—and it grew worse as he pulled the blade out horizontally, carving through my flesh. I plunged into darkness..