Chapter 75: One Hour
The clash rang across the arena like a blacksmith’s hammer striking an anvil.
Wood met wood. Each collision sent sharp, unhinged echoes racing through the stands. Thousands watched in near silence.
The earlier cheers had faded. There was no need for shouting anymore. The battle itself commanded attention and focus.
An average person could easily lose track of what was happening, even while struggling to keep up in the first place.
At the center of the arena, Hodyr’s greatsword carved wide arcs through the air. The weapon looked less like a sword and more like a descending fortress gate in human hands.
Every swing carried enough force to shatter bones and send dust skittering across the stone floor.
Etno met those attacks with unnerving calm. He did not overpower them. He slipped around them.
A step here and a turn there. His blade seemed to arrive exactly where it needed to be and nowhere else.
The contrast was fascinating. One fought like a storm battering a castle wall. The other fought like a river finding every crack in the stone.
Near the waiting area, Thane sat cross-legged on the ground, his axe beside him.
His eyes never left the battlefield. Beside him, Bod occasionally pointed at the fight.
"See that?" Bod questioned.
Thane shook his head. "No."
Bod sighed. "Look at the shoulders."
"What is there to look at?"
"Hodyr attacks with his arms."
Thane narrowed his eyes before answering. "That’s normal."
"No. It isn’t."
The spear user pointed again. "Watch Etno."
This time, Thane paid closer attention. Etno’s sword moved before his arms did.
No, that was not correct. His feet moved first, then his waist, and then his shoulders.
The sword was merely the final link in the chain.
A realization dawned on the giant.
"Oh, I see," said Thane.
Bod grinned. "There you go." He was happy.
But Thane poured water on his happiness and said, "I don’t think I’m getting what you are trying to show me."
Bod slapped his thigh hard and said through gritted teeth, "Fuck me."
Thane heard him and quickly scowled at Bod. "Never use such words. You look good, bad breath won’t suit you."
Bod was again completely unaware of the logic behind it. He nodded at Thane just to make him quiet.
Meanwhile, the duel continued.
Hodyr’s breathing had become heavier. His attacks remained powerful, but the signs of his stamina gradually running out were evident.
A fraction slower. An attack less precise. A swing more desperate.
Etno, on the other hand, looked almost untouched.
The Drevlorn warrior hated that. His jaw tightened as he blocked another strike, then another, and a third.
The spectators could see it now. Thin red lines covered his arms and shoulders.
His torso... Wooden swords weren’t meant to cut flesh. Yet somehow, Etno had left marks all over him.
The impacts looked shallow, but there were dozens of them. Each one was proof of the growing gap between them.
Hodyr spat onto the stone, blood mixed with saliva.
His grin returned.
"You know," he called, stepping back, "I’m starting to understand why the giant annoys you."
Etno’s expression remained unchanged. "He doesn’t."
"Oh, come now." Hodyr adjusted his grip. "The whole kingdom is treating him like some chosen hero."
The greatsword rose. "You should thank me."
Etno tilted his head slightly. "Thank you?"
"Of course." Hodyr laughed. "When I expose every trick you’ve got, that giant might actually beat you."
The comment struck a nerve. Not in Etno, but in the crowd.
Everyone wanted to see the final. They wanted to know which of the two was stronger.
The swordsman regarded Hodyr quietly, then he answered. "No one from my generation can defeat me."
The statement was not loud, nor was it boastful, neither dramatic. He simply stated it as fact. At least, he had a firm belief that it was a fact.
The confidence behind those words hit harder than any shout.
Even Hodyr’s grin faltered. He did not believe it, but Etno’s confidence shook him up.
Completely serious, no hesitation, not the slightest doubt.
The next exchange erupted before the silence could settle.
Hodyr lunged. The greatsword descended. With no time to evade or find a gap to take advantage of, Etno met it head-on.
CRACK!
The impact thundered through the arena.
The force behind Hodyr’s strike was monstrous. Stone fractured beneath his feet.
Etno’s sword bent and a second later, a loud snapping sound resounded.
CLAAA.
The wooden sword shattered. Gasps erupted from the stands. Half the sword spun away, the other half remained in Etno’s hand.
For a heartbeat, triumph flashed across Hodyr’s face.
"Finally, an advantage," he said to himself and surged forward.
The greatsword followed. Victory seemed only a step away.
Then he blinked, and Etno vanished from his eyes. The strike met nothing but air.
Hodyr’s eyes widened. His instinct screamed, but it was too late.
A sharp impact struck the back of his knee. Another struck his shoulder.
His balance disappeared. The world tilted. The giant warrior crashed onto the stone floor.
The crowd exploded.
By the time Hodyr looked up, Etno was standing behind him.
Holding only the broken half of his sword. Calm, unruffled, and proud like a victor.
The arena erupted into thunderous applause. Some spectators rose from their seats.
Others shouted Etno’s name. The judges exchanged knowing glances.
Even Hodyr couldn’t help laughing. He rolled onto his back and stared at the sky.
Etno offered a hand. After a moment, Hodyr accepted it.
The Drevlorn warrior rose and dusted himself off. His body ached. His pride was bruised. But he had no complaints.
He had fought well. He had lost fairly. And more importantly, he had learned.
The referee stepped into the arena.
"Winner."
His voice carried effortlessly through the stadium.
"Etno Kamsi."
The cheers grew even louder.
At the edge of the battlefield, Thane was already on his feet.
Excitement surged through him. His injuries were forgotten.
The pain in his ribs was forgotten. The bruises on his face were forgotten. Only one thought remained.
It was his turn to fight now.
He grabbed his axe and took a step forward. He strode toward the arena.
The crowd immediately noticed. Mumbles spread through the stands like a hive of bees.
The final was here. Etno turned toward him.
Across the arena, the two strongest aspirants of the tournament locked eyes.
The atmosphere changed instantly. Even the spectators felt it.
The anticipation, expectation, and promise of violence that spectators wanted.
Thane gazed at his opponent. Etno remained composed.
The giant opened his mouth, probably to challenge him, to say something stupid.
Nobody would ever know, because before he could speak, the referee raised both hands.
"Before the final begins, both competitors are granted a mandatory recovery period."
Thane’s feet froze.
The referee continued mercilessly.
"One hour."
The giant looked happy. For the first time, he was happy that he got time. He needed more of it to solve a puzzle called "Intent".
"As you wish, referee," he said and quickly took his steps back.
Laughter rolled through the audience.
The referee ignored him. "The final shall commence after the break."
Thane turned around, glancing toward Etno, then toward the referee.
Then back toward Etno.
His shoulders slumped. "I wanted to fight right away."
Thane lied so it would not seem he was happy he had a break. He had self-respect to maintain.
The giant sighed heavily enough to move dust.
The crowd laughed again.
Even Etno looked away for a moment, suspiciously close to smiling.
The final would have to wait, but only for an hour.
And everyone in the arena knew it would be worth it.
[Editor’s Note: Sorry, got dragged overtime at work and this delay is on me.]
