Chapter 3
A panting man ran through the woods, peering into the darkness behind him, though he occasionally glanced forward to avoid hitting a tree. He knew the woods around the village where he grew up, and that knowledge kept him ahead of his tracker. The tree line broke into an open field just as a brush rustled in the distance behind him. Two steps later, the bushes to his right shook. The man stopped running and watched ahead of him. A shadowy figure shouted from the end of the clearing.
˝Wait!”
The man knew he had no choice except to fight. He hoped he had put enough distance between him and the village to prevent any more damage. He was ignorant of his opponent’s strength or fighting style and had never fought at such a disadvantage. He knew his opponent’s objective, and only that gave him any leverage. If he could beat the figure without using his best gear, he’d probably survive. Out of breath and out of road, the man shifted into a set of steel full plate armor with a steel longsword in his right hand.
The man hadn’t fought or practiced in steel armor for many years. He lumbered toward the figure. The man’s steps crashed with every step. The plate armor restricted his range of motion, and the figure danced around the man's wide, sweeping swings. The man lifted his arms and slashed a powerful overhead strike, but the figure side-stepped, and the sword lodged into the ground. The figure drew a sunshine steel short sword and struck the man’s blade near the hilt. The first strike cracked steel. The second strike splintered the sword further. The cracks spread after the third strike. The fourth strike severed the blade from the hilt, and the man stumbled back. The exhausted man eyed his broken sword. In an instant, though, the man wore a full set of seashell steel chainmail, with matching gauntlets, boots, and helm. The white armor glistened in the evening’s moonlight. He drew a seashell steel short sword and danced around the figure’s blind spots. The chainmail was considerably quieter than the plate armor, but the figure could still hear every move. The man’s movements tightened and quickened, but the figure continued to dodge the man’s predictable strikes at each last moment. Each time the figure countered, the man dodged to stay in a blind spot. They stalemated until the figure seemed to understand the man’s intentions. The figure feigned a counterattack and spun to square off with his enemy.
Surprised by abruptly losing the initiative, the man recoiled. The figure jutted out his bare hand and shot forth a shock wave. The man jumped back, but the wave traveled too close to his right hand, bursting his white gauntlet. The sword flew from his bloody hand, and he drew his wounded appendage to his body. Shattered metal scored his palm and wrist, but the bones were otherwise unbroken. The man shifted again, this time appearing in a set of full plate water steel armor.
A pressed manta ray decorated the cuirass’s blue enamel-covered backplate. The creature expanded past his shoulder blades to his lower back, and the manta ray’s tail then wrapped around his side to the front breastplate’s lower section. White piping inlay outlined the armor’s gauntlets, couter, greaves, tassets, boots, and helm. Compared to the seashell mail, the man’s range of movement was now more constricted, but his actions flashed incomparably faster than when wearing the steel plate armor. He drew a barbed dragon fire steel sword from a scabbard. A cruel weapon, the barbed tip could render flesh from its victims.
Now the figure barely dodged the incoming blows. The second slice of the dragon fire steel sword cut the figure’s sword in half. The figure released the hilt, extended his hand and shot forth another shock wave. The man rolled away as a tree exploded in the background. The figure continued his shock wave assault. Although every shot closed in on its mark, the figure’s movements slowed with each attempt. The man rolled forward and to the right. The figure shot one last bolt. The lumbering wave grazed past the man, close enough to crack and gouge the man’s left gauntlet. Fatigue had weakened the figure enough, though, that the bolt couldn’t injure the man or shatter his armor.
The man raised the dragon fire sword as he exited the roll. The figure threw himself to the side. The sword’s barb ripped clean through steel chainmail and tore the flesh underneath. The figure struggled to escape, fell backward, and surrendered. He leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, examining his bloody chest. Realizing the life or death struggle hadn’t yet ended, he looked at the man and raised his hand, but the hand only limply dropped to his side without firing a bolt. The man rushed the figure, pressed his left forearm into the figure’s neck, and poised his sword under the figure’s ribs.
˝Don’t feel bad you lost this one... After all, this fight lasted only an hour for you; it lasted YEARS for me!”
While the man gloated his victory, the figure raked his hands across the smooth gauntlet pressing on his neck. His hands fruitlessly slipped over the blue steel until a finger caught a crack in the gauntlet. Skin touched skin, and the man screamed, glowed from under his armor, slacked, and fell backward. The figure gasped when the pressure eased on his neck.
After a few minutes, the figure stood and hobbled to the man who hadn’t moved since screaming and falling. The body lay face down, and the figure kicked it over. The helmet slid off the body to reveal the face of a withered old man.
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