Something was different this time. I could feel it.

It might have been that the crowd was smaller. I couldn't hear them over the roar of the waterfall surrounding us but there was a feeling in the air when large groups of people were present, and I was starting to get a sense for it. Perhaps that was simply my burgeoning sense for ambient mana, or maybe there truly was some ancient instinct buried deep in all of humanity that told us when others were nearby. Either way, I sensed that fewer people were present for this fight.

Maybe it felt different because I had heard of the outcome of her last fight. Knowing I was to face someone skilled enough to nearly defeat the girl that had mopped the floor with me earlier in the day was surely enough to give one some butterflies. But it wasn't nerves that had my skin prickling.

My opponent didn't look nervous either. She was raging. I could see even from here, on the opposite side of the arena, the fire burning in her eyes. Her brows were heavy, a frown marking her otherwise beautiful features in what seemed to be a familiar expression. Hulking shoulders – knotted with muscle and criss-crossed with ritualised scarification – heaved as she drew in shuddering breaths. Her hair was combed back so tightly that it stretched the skin of her forehead, and her knuckles were white from where they gripped the haft of her massive great axe.

I thought of Vera, and it seemed an apt comparison. When my companion began to rage, the very world around her started to burn. This woman lacked Vera's obvious power, but her eyes held the same glint. That savage intensity that spoke to dark desires.

I was surprised to note my attributes were quite limited though. This woman clearly had an impressive physicality to her, but from what I was feeling, she was a fair bit weaker than I was, and a lot weaker than I expected. How had she nearly beaten Sandent? From the version of events I'd heard, it was very much a battle between skill and strength, with skill coming out on top. Yet my attributes were limited to just above what they had been when facing Sandent Varselli myself. It didn't make sense to my mind.

And perhaps that was the reason for my unease. My body was screaming in silence. Sweat wicked my palms and the recently shorn half my scalp prickled in the mist from the cascading waterfall nearby.

"In the interest of allowing both of you to showcase your abilities, I will be allowing minor wounds to stack uncontested. Our healers can deal with most minor injuries, but amputations will be difficult, so I will step in to prevent any injury that I judge to be too heinous."

Finanda looked at both of us, but I thought her gaze lingered longer on my opponent. I wondered if it was in a silent rebuke for her actions when facing Nathlan.

"My intervention will forfeit the match, so do not think to accept a maiming blow to land a more deadly one on your opponent."

Holder's calm voice did little to repress the shiver I felt worming its way up my spine.

"Jacyntha – are you ready?" she asked.

My opponent didn't take her eyes off me as she answered. More a grunt than words. Her steel-shod boots scraped against the stone and her axe glittered in the sun. Fuck, she's intense.

"Lamb – are you ready?"

I nodded, determined not to swallow and show my unease. It was bad form to let an opponent know they had you rattled. Besides, what do I care if I lose this match? It's all experience in the end. The thought didn't help settle the pit in my stomach though, no matter how I tried to believe it.

I waited a few more breaths before realising that Finanda was awaiting verbal confirmation, and I looked over.

"Ready," I said.

I blinked rapidly to clear the sweat from my left eye, but it was no use. I barely saw the threat of steel barrelling towards my front leg and pranced back just in time. I had to reach up to rub my eye, clearing away what turned out to be blood trickling from a small cut on my forehead.

I couldn't risk any impact to my depth perception in a fight this close, and so I disengaged entirely, backing away to give myself time to smear the blood around on my forehead. It might not keep it out of my eye for long, but it would have to do.

Jacyntha smirked at me, a rictus grin that seemed more appropriate on a corpse than a human. The blood in her teeth – courtesy of my quick jab earlier in the fight – contrasted against her pale skin and dark hair. It stained her lips too, giving them a rouged appearance that I couldn't help but find striking.

Any thoughts of her beauty were banished by her anger though, the emotion turning her smirk cruel and ugly. And that was before I considered her actions against my friend.

She stalked forwards, axe raised over one muscular shoulder and posture mocking. I could see through it though, read the readiness in her stance. She wanted to appear cocky and assured, but she was careful. I'd proved too dangerous to underestimate.

I spat to one side and rolled my shoulders once more, stepping forwards until we weren't far apart. The roar of cascading water cocooned us, giving a strange sense of privacy.

"Why?"

She raised a delicate eyebrow. "Because he was weak," she replied simply.

"And that means you should cripple him, does it? You have two dozen levels on him!"

I told myself I was trying to prick at her pride, to seek some psychological advantage. In reality, I desperately wanted to redeem her. I needed a reason, to know that she wasn't just cruel and vicious. I had no idea what reason there could be, but somehow, I didn't want to believe the worst of her.

"He entered The Blending, sought to wager his power against my own. If you must blame something, blame his arrogance."

We circled one another as we talked, although I wasn't looking for an opening right now.

"Arrogance to think you would respect the spirit of the competition? To expect no cheap blows from one of the mountain people?" I laughed bitterly.

My words were full of scorn, and her response wasn't verbal.

The axe whistled towards my head, splitting the air in a keening cry as I shifted back. My spear tip rose and quested towards her throat, but she was a whirling bundle of momentum, impossible to pin down.

I activated Faultline once more, pushing my mana into the Skill and stamping down to marshal my intent more forcefully. The rock split apart in front of her feet, but rather than abort her strike, she instead leapt into the air, barrelling towards me with her axe leading the charge.

My eyes widened in alarm, and I activated Check-Step. Stepping forwards and ducking low, I braced my shield and exploded upwards beneath her as she landed. Her axe clanged off the edge of my bronze-alloy shield and she was thrown over my head, rolling as she hit the ground to land on her feet once more behind me.

She appeared no worse for wear as I whirled to face her, spear point once more between us.

"Your friend was too weak to defend himself, and you are no more impressive. I shouldn't have expected anything else from lowlanders."

I sighed then, finally letting go of any hope that she might have some secret justification. She raised her chin at me, daring me to challenge her assertion, and I saw it once more.

Pride.

That was all this was. Mixed in with some xenophobia to give justification to her actions perhaps. But mostly just pride in her position as a powerful warrior. As better than Nathlan. Better than me, better than everyone.

Not quite everyone though. An idea occurred then.

"I suppose you're lucky Sandent Varselli doesn't share your philosophy then," I said as casually as I could, considering the circumstances.

That got a reaction. Jacyntha flinched, eyes darting behind me to the caves ringing the arena, as if looking for someone. Checking whether she had been seen? She clearly found whoever she was looking for though, as in the next moment when her eyes returned to mine, they were blazing.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

An expression of rage painted itself across her beautiful face, far surpassing what I had expected. I had no more time to wonder at it though, as she launched herself towards me with a shout.

Her axe came sweeping at my head, my legs, even my shield in a dizzying pattern of strikes that I could just barely keep up with. I back peddled for a few moments, rolling with each blow and using my shield to protect myself before a judicious use of Check-Step gave me time to slip one of her heavy swings and step close, smashing my shield into her chest and sending her stumbling backwards.

I followed up with a lunge, forcing her even further back, and she fell in an attempt to avoid the questing tip of my blade.

"Guess you better hope I don't share your philosophy either, right?" I tried to put as much disdain into my tone as possible, but it was undercut by my heavy breathing. Seemed to work all the same though.

Jacyntha looked past me from behind the tip of my spear, and screamed.

*Sadrianna*

Where the previous fight had been an intriguing display of pure power versus pure finesse, this one resembled nothing so much as a brawl in a longhouse.

Lamb and Jacyntha fought like two boars fighting over the prime spot at a watering hole. The clanging of steel on bronze, the heavy breathing, the grunting and expletives… all were covered by the sound of the waterfall, but Sadrianna could imagine them well enough.

Jacyntha was a skilful warrior with the way she wielded her axe, and her attributes were clearly impressive. Lamb himself was much the same, since neither side seemed to have much of a physical advantage over the other. What he lacked in direct skill with his weapons he made up in creative use of his longer reach and more frequent use of Skills.

It was a surprise to see Jacyntha struggle to utilise her Skills. She'd used the Grey Rock inheritance a few times, but Lamb seemed to have a way to briefly disorient her, and so her attempts at forcing him towards the edge of the arena by simply enduring his attacks and charging forwards through whatever attacks he could throw at her were undercut by him slipping away whenever she managed to corner him.

Then again, she hadn't relied on her Skills overmuch even against Sandent. That was partly why Sadrianna thought she had lost that bout to the girl earlier, but there must be something more going on. Jacyntha of Grey Rock didn't seem the kind of woman to leave an advantage untapped.

Hastor had finally stopped his protestations and grumbling following Jacyntha's loss. He had tried to declare it a foul and had rounded on Jorge when the man had simply pointed out that his daughter had done her best. Personally, Sadrianna thought that, 'if her best is defeat, then what good is she?' was a shitty thing for a father to say about his own daughter, and said more about Hastor than it did Jacyntha, but she was smart enough to keep it to herself. She wouldn't let her pride create more headaches for her parents to deal with, and a man like Hastor wasn't likely to listen to someone like her anyway. Or anyone, really.

She felt she now understood why Jacyntha appeared so obviously full of anger, but any sympathy she might have harboured abruptly dried up when she remembered the stomp she had seen. Jacyntha had deliberately distracted the Holder with a death blow, then kicked Nathlan's knee backwards when the Holder was distracted preventing the more immediate danger.

It was played off as a legitimate strike before the match was stopped, but Sadrianna could tell. Jacyntha had enough of a speed advantage that she could have ended the fight cleanly. It had actually been an impressive display of tactical fighting the way the woman had manoeuvred the lowlander towards the edge of the dais. She had cut down his options until she was certain he had nowhere to go and then it was only a matter of time. She'd swung faster than usual at one point, breaking his rhythm, and that had been that.

Sadrianna could see no world in which the stomp was necessary, and there was plenty of circumstantial evidence that it was done in retaliation for embarrassing her. She'd seen the exact moment that Jacyntha had decided to make the man hurt.

It had been when she had looked up into their own cave. Hastor had shouted something about her embarrassing the family name. She doubted Jacyntha could hear, but lip-reading? That was possible with her high attributes. She imagined it was a phrase that the woman had seen many times on her father's lips by the way she had reacted.

And now that angry woman was fighting Lamb. It wasn't the same dynamic anymore, roughly matched in attributes as they were now, but Sadrianna didn't doubt the result would be similar in the end. Lamb was holding his own surprisingly well, but despite Jacynth's lack of flashy Skills and true talent for weaponry, she was still more experienced than the tall lowlander.

The two fighters stopped for a moment, exchanging words, though presumably none but the Holder could hear the specifics. Then the fight was back on, although there was a new intensity. Lamb almost stumbled, then corrected in the face of the bigger woman's charge and threw her bodily over his shoulder in an impressive display of strength and timing.

Spinning back to her feet, Jacyntha again looked up to the stands, and that's when Sadrianna confirmed it.

"Fucking finish him, girl!" Hastor's voice boomed around the room, and Sadrianna caught Jorge's eye. He winked at her.

Turning her attention back to the fight, she saw Jacyntha run back in, but there was a lack of that previous tactical forethought in her movements now. She overcommitted in an attempt to hurt Lamb, and he knocked her to the ground for it.

Sadrianna barely heard Hastor's mutter, but she saw him turn away. Jacyntha chose that moment to look up over Lamb's shoulder, and either she'd seen the look of disgust on her father's face, or simply saw his back turned as he walked away. Either would be enough though.

She screamed, and burst to her feet far faster than before, her ritual scars burning with a faint inner light. Lamb was swiftly overwhelmed by a flurry of blows and then went skidding across the dais from a hefty kick to the chest.

"That's more like it! Show that pathetic lowlander what it means to be a fighter!"

Hastor was back into the fight by the sound of it, and Sadrianna was privately left to wonder how long her parents would put up with his rudeness. The lowlander's benefactor was sitting right next to the abrasive man, and it was the height of discourtesy to denigrate the man's ward publicly like that.

She once again stole a glance at Jorge, and the older man no longer looked so casual. He was leaning forwards, lips pursed and sniffing the air, as if trying to catch an unusual scent.

She turned back to the fight again, curious to see what he was looking for. Jacyntha had gotten dramatically faster after her scream and was clearly using some sort of body enhancing Skill, given the strange green glow wafting from the looping marks on her skin. It was the same boosting Skill she had used against Sandent, and while it hadn't saved her then, it looked like it might this time.

Lamb scrambled to his feet and backed up, shield cradled defensively in front of him. The axe came down, over and over, cutting and slashing in a relentless assault. It was clear that her attributes were enhanced well beyond his by this point. Each blow sent him reeling, and given their increased speed, so he was no longer able to redirect them or keep his footwork clean.

The woman also finally lost that slightly wild edge, and some of her previous strategy returned, herding Lamb towards the edge of the arena and clearly setting up a finish. Finanda was close by, hovering just out of reach and clearly unwilling to allow a repeat of Jacyntha's last victory, which was reassuring.

Sadrianna sighed though. Jorge's hope for a feat to push both his wards through to the 2nd tier was clearly out of reach now. Perhaps she could guide him to the Hoarfrost Caverns once they recovered? A successful hunt of anything down there would surely be enough for a 1st tier feat, although it was a tall order for both Nathlan and Lamb, from what she had seen so far.

The fighters below paused once more, and again it seemed like words were being exchanged. The end was coming though, and even by provoking the woman to anger, Sadrianna doubted Lamb would find a way out.

*Lamb*

"Who do you keep looking at?" I asked from the ground, the muscular woman looming above me with her axe propped on one shoulder.

It seemed unwise to allow me to speak and recover, but she could see the exhaustion in my posture, and the last minute of the fight had done a lot to convince her I was now harmless. I lacked the skill or power to challenge her while in her heightened state, and so she allowed me to speak. Likely just wanted to bask in her victory for a moment longer.

She didn't strike me as particularly cruel though. Reactive certainly, quick to anger and faster still to act on it, but I didn't get the sense that she was revelling in my suffering. More just accepting her victory, and basking in the feeling of achieving it finally.

I was making excuses for her again. Gods, she was pretty. Dammit Lamb, get it together.

"Words won't save you now, lowlander," she said, not quite mocking but skirting the edge of it.

"Just seems to make you real mad whenever you look up. Some rival, maybe?" I asked through gasps as I tried in vain to recover my breath. "It's not Sandent, is it?"

My smile was weak, but at least I saw a bit of fire return to her gaze. Not that I was in any state to take advantage of it.

"I've heard enough of your whining," she said, and I was surprised to find myself a little outraged. "Maybe if you spent more time training than flapping your gums, you'd perhaps win the odd fight."

"Oh, fuck off. You won because you cheated."

"Cheated?" she asked. She sounded affronted, but I saw her eyes flick to somewhere to my off to my left, were I knew the Holder waited. Nervous, perhaps? I grinned.

"Oh yeah, I heard about your dark secret," I growled, not having a single clue what I was talking about but just chucking it out there, nonetheless. The strange escort had said she'd cheated in some way, so I figured it couldn't hurt to bait her a little.

"Pathetic lies from a man too proud to accept his defeat," she spat back, true venom in her voice now.

It didn't matter. I'd made the fight competitive despite whatever method of cheating she used, and that was with my attributes limited–

The thought shot through me like a lightning bolt. I was limited by the amulet to an attribute level commensurate with my opponent, but Jacyntha had gotten significantly faster and stronger mid-way through our fight, while I had experienced no similar increase myself. It was possible she had higher attributes than me while enhanced, but I definitely wasn't at my limit yet, so clearly something else was going on.

Was I going to sit here and lose to a bruiser like myself, simply because Jorge had decided that enhancement Skills didn't count against raising my attribute limit? Fuck that. Perhaps if she had beaten me with greater weapons-work, or artful use of some tricky Skills… But to just dog-walk me with higher stats while I could still potentially match her? Fuck no.

I reached up to my neck, making eye contact with the big woman as I did so. "You know what's funny about all this?" My fingers dug beneath the rim of the heavy vest I wore, searching for the thin leather strap of the amulet. "I've been fighting for less than six months, and I still almost kicked your ass."

Her face contorted at that, and she took a half-step forward, axe poised to strike.

"And I'm not even done yet."

My fingers found the loop of leather, and yanked.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.