Chapter20: Mercenary enrollment (4)
The sound of steel rang out as my blade met that of the examiner.
I immediately felt the strength behind his arm. Even though he said he was holding back, his weight, his posture, his confidence... everything exuded mastery. The impact shot through my right shoulder like a dull wave. A spike of pain shot up my arm. I took a step to the side, controlling my breathing, ignoring the throbbing heat in my bruised muscles.
Around us, there was total silence. Only the squeaking of boots on the tiles and the metallic clanging of our exchanges punctuated the space.
He attacked for the first time.
A circular arc, fast, precise. I cushioned the blow with the flat of my blade and pivoted to throw off his angle of attack. My right arm creaked in protest. I shifted my weight. My left shoulder took over. The world was shrinking before his eyes. His blade faded into a shadow with each of his movements.
I took two steps back. His gaze assessed me, cold and curious.
Another blow, lower this time. I bent my legs, blocked, but pain exploded in my injured arm. I should have dodged.
I had to grit my teeth to keep from grimacing. My breathing quickened slightly.
He had seen it.
A glint flashed in his eye. He straightened slowly, then launched another attack, faster, more precise. He was testing my limits.
I took it. I held on.
I had known hunger. Cold. Despair. I would not fall here from an injury, not now.
I changed my guard. Left hand forward, lower stance, more mobile. My right arm relegated to light defense. My style was becoming unbalanced, but it was mine.
He charged. I parried, deflected, slipped under his arm, taking advantage of his reach to move up behind him. A flash. My blade grazed his side.
A tense silence fell.
He had stopped. Not a word, not a expression. Just that strange look that probed me like an enigma.
Then he smiled.
And everything changed.
He launched a new assault, much faster this time, directly at my sword. I barely parried the attack, supporting my blade with both hands.
The force of the blow made me stumble. I quickly activated my essence to create a thin layer of frost under his feet and, taking advantage of his moment of surprise, I threw a newly formed ice knife and swung my weapon toward his side.
For a moment, he seemed helpless, overwhelmed. I saw my blade approaching his breastplate and the dagger his face. Both seemed to be on a perfect trajectory.
My heartbeat was erratic. I began to believe in my victory, but in the blink of an eye, he had destroyed them.
A crack appeared on the blade of my sword. Not a burst. Just a thin line that lengthened, split into a web before exploding in my hands.
My breath caught in my throat. Sweat beaded on my forehead as if under the summer sun. My grip trembled, fragile. My injured arm reacted as if needles had been stuck into it.
But the exchange had been enough to break me. My tense muscles protested. My breathing became chaotic. I had held on until then, but I knew I couldn't go any further.
The examiner sheathed his weapon with a sharp rustle. He didn't look at me. He simply took a step back.
"That's enough. "
I didn't answer.
I lowered the blade, my fingers numb, my shoulder burning. My legs were heavy, but I refused to stagger.
When I turned to the group, I saw Damien. He was staring at me, arms crossed. A discreet smile floated on his lips.
The rest of the group remained silent. Some frowned. Others looked away.
I sat down quietly, trying to calm my breathing.
A trickle of blood ran down my sleeve. I pressed it discreetly.
Behind me, the examiner's voice resumed, neutral:
"Next."
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~Damien~
The fight had ended spectacularly. The remains of Lance's training blade had been moved, and the last examinees waited silently for their turn.
I could barely hide my excitement at the end of the confrontation. Unlike my exchange, where the graduate had fought with his bare hands, thanks to Lance I had gotten a glimpse of the real difference in strength and skill between us, and it was absurd.
I stifled a giggle as I watched the attacks of the new examinee, who was wielding an axe. A strange choice.
Lance had to go get treated before the next phase. So I found myself watching the show alone.
"The next phase will be fights between us," I reminded myself as I looked for a potential opponent in our group, but none of them seemed particularly enthusiastic.
No one stood out. No one had that fire.
Except him.
The archers and ranged fighters were wrapping up as well. I could hear the sounds of projectiles colliding and explosions going off in the adjacent hall.
"I wonder how the other one is doing," I muttered.