Chapter 93 - Nonsense Combat Style
Bao walked back to the group, her expression dark with frustration. She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, still feeling the sting of Lua's final strike.
Bral grinned as she approached. "Hey, don't look so down. You did great. Even the master said you'd most likely lose, so there's no reason to be discouraged."
Bao clicked her tongue in irritation. "Tsk... I didn't even hit her once."
Idin leaned against the wall. "That's what training is for. Now you know what to fix."
But Bao didn't reply, just exhaled sharply through her nose. She hated losing, and even though she knew this was part of the process, it still stung. She had never liked feeling weak.
Before anyone could say more, Dainor stepped forward, his commanding presence instantly silencing the room. "The second match will be between Ive and our second new member, Amukelo."
Amukelo, who had been standing quietly, straightened slightly at the mention of his name. His fingers twitched at his side, eager for the challenge.
Dainor turned to them. "Do you remember the rules from the first match?"
Both he and Ive nodded.
"Good. In that case, the rules are the same—first to three victories. But this time, both of you fight to a single strike. If Amukelo lands a clean hit, he wins the round. If Ive lands a clean hit, he wins the round."
Amukelo nodded, his mind quickly adjusting to the conditions.
"Now, take your positions."
Both fighters stepped forward into the center of the sparring ring. Amukelo rolled his shoulders, his body naturally falling into a stance as he exhaled deeply. Across from him, Ive's stance was solid, practiced, but Amukelo noticed the slight tension in his grip. He was cautious. Good. That meant he wasn't underestimating him.
Dainor raised his hand. "Round one—start!"
Both fighters rushed forward simultaneously.
Ive struck first, bringing his sword in a clean, diagonal cut aimed at Amukelo's left side. But Amukelo met the strike head-on, their wooden blades clashing with a sharp crack. The force of the impact sent a brief vibration through Amukelo's arm, but he used the momentum to twist their locked weapons aside and instantly closed the gap between them.
His shoulder hit Ive square in the chest. Ive stumbled back slightly, his footing breaking for just a second—but that second was all Amukelo needed.
Without hesitation, Amukelo raised his sword overhead and brought it down.
Ive, recovering just in time, lifted his own blade to intercept. The force of the parry pushed Amukelo's sword aside, leaving him exposed.
Ive instantly slashed at Amukelo's torso.
But before the blade could connect—Amukelo caught it with his free hand. And everyone in the room froze and a long silence fell.
Idin slowly dragged a hand down his face. "Oh no..."
Bral's mouth twitched. "This idiot..."
Ive stood there, wide-eyed, his sword still gripped in Amukelo's bare hand. The wooden blade pressed against Amukelo's palm, and for a moment, Amukelo didn't even realize what he had done.
Then, Dainor's voice rang out, tinged with disbelief. "The winner of round one is Ive."
Amukelo blinked. "Huh? Why?"
Dainor gave him a long, unreadable stare. Then, slowly, he said, "You... grabbed the sword."
Amukelo looked down at his hand, still firmly holding onto the blade. His brain finally caught up to what his body had done.
His mouth opened slightly. He lifted his head, his expression blank. "Wait, wait, wait—"
His face fell into his palm as he groaned. "Ahh... I've never had a duel before. I've fought monsters, but never a human. Monsters don't have rules."
Dainor exhaled, rubbing his temple. "It's not about the rules. If this were a real blade, your palm would be split in two."
Amukelo winced. "Right... yeah... that makes sense." He flexed his hand, only now realizing how reckless that was. His instincts had taken over, and without thinking, he had done what he always did when fighting beasts—grab whatever was coming toward him and stop it from harming him even more.
He sighed heavily, embarrassed. "Alright... that was dumb."
Bral couldn't stop grinning. "Oh man, I think this might be my favorite fight yet."
Idin shook his head. "I knew he was going to do something ridiculous, but I wasn't expecting that."
Dainor was still staring at Amukelo, as if trying to decide whether he was impressed or disappointed.
Then Amukelo suddenly straightened. "Wait. Can I make a request?"
Dainor raised an eyebrow. "A request?"
Amukelo nodded. "I'm used to using daggers as a reinforcement tool in fights. Can I use one for this match?"
Dainor considered for a moment. A two-blade style. He studied Amukelo carefully. The way he moved before was aggressive, confident. Instinct-driven, but not sloppy. If he truly had experience with dual-wielding, it might make the fight much more interesting.
He nodded. "Yes, you can. If that's what you're used to, we'll see how it looks."
Amukelo grabbed a wooden dagger from the rack and returned to his position. He exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on both weapons. The weight difference between the training weapons and his real ones was noticeable, but he could manage.
Across from him, Ive frowned, his stance slightly tenser than before. He had already struggled against Amukelo's raw, unorthodox approach in the first round—now, with an extra weapon in play, things were bound to get even more unpredictable.
Dainor raised his hand. "Round two—start!"
Amukelo and Ive charged at each other at the same time.
Ive, trying to adapt, angled his strike to push Amukelo's sword aside, hoping to throw him off balance like before. And it worked—almost. Amukelo's sword was knocked outward, but instead of stumbling back, he surged forward.
The dagger in his left hand shot toward Ive's torso.
Ive saw it at the last moment and jumped back, barely evading the thrust. The wooden blade skimmed his tunic, missing him by inches. His heart pounded—he hadn't expected that kind of follow-up.
But Amukelo wasn't done. He pushed forward again, sword swinging in a powerful horizontal slash.
Ive lifted his blade just in time to intercept, their weapons clashing in a sharp burst of energy. The impact rattled through both of them, but Amukelo was already moving—his dagger flashed again.
Ive saw it coming—but he had no way to stop it.
His sword was still recovering from the previous clash, and the dagger came too fast.
He twisted his body at the last second, narrowly avoiding a direct hit, but the wooden blade grazed his side.
Dainor's voice rang out. "Winner of round two—Amukelo."
Ive exhaled sharply, stepping back and rubbing his ribs where the dagger had scraped him. He shook his head. "This dagger and sword thing is really weird... I have no idea how to fight against that."
Both of them took their positions again.
Dainor raised his hand. "Round three—start!"
This time, Ive didn't rush forward.
Instead, he stayed put, watching.
Amukelo darted toward him, blade raised, but as he got closer, Ive's sword swung.
Amukelo raised his own sword to meet it, but the impact was stronger than before.
His hand jerked back, and for a brief moment, his balance shifted.
Ive saw the opening and moved immediately, stepping back to avoid the dagger, then swinging his sword from a perfect distance.
Amukelo's dagger wasn't long enough to reach, and for a second, it looked like Ive had won the exchange.
But just before Ive's wooden blade could connect, he felt something hit his stomach hard.
There was a pause. Ive blinked and looked down. Amukelo's wooden dagger was lying on the ground—right where it had struck him.
Dainor's voice cut through the air. "Winner of round three—Amukelo."
Ive's eyes widened in confusion. "Wait—what? Is that even allowed?"
Dainor shrugged. "I never banned it, so yes."
Ive stared at him, then at the fallen dagger. "Come on. How am I supposed to defend against that?"
Dainor didn't even try to hide his amusement. "You'll have to figure it out."
Bral burst into laughter from the sidelines. "I swear, this kid fights like a drunk bard making up a combat style on the spot."
Idin sighed. "No normal fighter would ever throw their weapon mid-fight."
Bral grinned. "Yeah, well... it worked."
Ive exhaled sharply, annoyed but impressed. "Alright. One more."
Amukelo retrieved his dagger and twirled it in his hand before stepping back into position.
Dainor raised his hand. "Final round—start!"
Ive was ready this time.
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He kept his distance from the start, knowing that engaging directly only put him at risk.
Amukelo, seeing this, shifted his weight. He needed to close the gap fast.
Ive expected the rush. As soon as Amukelo lunged, Ive swung his sword in a powerful horizontal cut.
But Amukelo was already one step ahead.
Mid-step, he flung his dagger forward.
Ive reacted instantly, lifting his sword to block it.
The wooden dagger bounced off his blade harmlessly.
For a second, he smirked, thinking he had caught on.
Then he realized—Amukelo was already moving.
The moment the dagger left his hand, Amukelo had rushed forward at full speed.
Before Ive could reset his stance, Amukelo was on him.
A wooden sword struck his ribs.
Dainor's voice rang out. "Winner of round four and the second sparring match—Amukelo."
Ive stared blankly at him, chest rising and falling from exertion. He looked down at where he had been struck, then back up at Amukelo, who was grinning like a fox.
Ive shook his head. "This is the most bullshit way of fighting I've ever seen."
Amukelo laughed. "It works."
Bral wiped a tear from his eye, still laughing. "Ive, my guy... I think you just got outplayed by sheer nonsense."
Ive sighed, rubbing his face. "I wasn't ready for a guy who just throws weapons mid-fight. Who does that?"