Chapter 11 – A Fight to the Death

Illias screamed.

The world trembled, his arms shouted in agony, legs begging for some form of rest, the entire body praying for any form of salvation! Yet, he knew better than to expect a savior to arrive through the clouds in rays of light and divine holiness.

Nay! He refused such an outcome!

Illias roared as mightly as he could until completion. “12!”

Old Goat sat on his customary crate within their building. Staring the whole time and watching Illias workout ceaselessly. Only stopping when he couldn’t pick his arms up, when food or nature called, or when Old Goat dragged him away for errands.

Illias refused to do anything else.

Max was in a Cursed Legion and being trained to become one of the most powerful legionaries in all of existence.

He needed to keep up and one day, join him as they waged war against all of the Emperor’s enemies… or wherever Max decided to go. Illias didn’t really care as long as he could be by his side and conquer the world with his big brother.

“Up next… The Brass Balls themselves.” the Optio shouted loud enough that the camp might have heard him.

Arnie looked around. His head swiveled back and forth trying to find the person the Optio called. No one had responded much like Edmund. The rest had all resigned themselves to their fate and stepped forward when their names were called because there was no escape.

“Wonder who that is. Brass balls is such a weird name, right Max? Max? What are you doing?”

Max stood up on the ledge and extended his arms, waiting for the legionary to pick him up. He didn’t have to wait long. One landed beside him, picked him up, jumped down to the battlefield, and placed him in front of the bag of weapons and the Optio.

He could hear murmurs from the recruits behind him and he was positive Arnie was staring a hole through his back, but he refused to check. Instead, he stared up at the giant Optio, that was even bigger up close, with a deep frown.

The Optio’s smile widened. “Aren’t you scared, boy?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

Fighting one individual was nothing compared to an entire hall of what could have been thousands all vying for his death and execution. Of course, battling a godforsaken goblin still made him shake and tremble, but he refused to let this be his end. He had made promises, to both enemy and friend, that he would stay alive and become someone worthy.

Max intended to keep his promises.

“Go on then, show me something worthy of your moniker. The good Captain Samson could not stop talking about you even when I personally asked him to stop.”

Max nodded and bent down to search through the bag. They never said you couldn’t take two blades, nor did they say anything about using them before the fight kicked off. The first thing he did was grab the sharpest dagger he could find, took off his shirt, and then ripped it into a long ribbon which he used to wrap around his face to cover his nostrils.

The rest he covered around his fists.

He’d seen this exact thing from the street fighters and brawling competitions Isabella always yelled at him for going to watch. Then he picked up the best dagger he thought would be perfect as a projectile. He wasn’t the best at throwing daggers, using a sling, or any of the usual toys and interests of kids his age, but he was decent enough.

Max’s goal wasn’t to kill it with one throw. He was not so delusional as to believe he could do it that way.

But cause it some damage?

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Make it bleed before the fight kicked off?

That wasn’t out of the question as long as he kept his nerves steady.

“Are you ready?” the Optio asked.

He didn’t mention the two daggers. Good. I was afraid he could tell me to put it down.

Max got closer and then nodded.

“Open the gate.”

The goblin hesitated just like the rest once the cage gate was opened.

Max didn’t give it a chance to arm itself properly. The second it looked down to grab the blade, he threw the first blade as hard as he could. The goblin screamed as it slammed into its side. Max had been targeting its head, but he wasn’t going to complain. Damage was damage, after all.

The greenskinned rushed to grab its blade and snap its head toward him.

He charged in only to stop short and back up as the goblin began swinging wildly at him. The thing looked to be made of bones and tight skin by that point. Every swing made it stumble a step and it took it a second to recover and pick up the short sword.

Max guessed giving it the short sword had been intentional. A dagger would have been easier to wield even when tired while the short sword had just enough weight to it that it fatigued it, more so than what it already was.

I can hit it while its recovering from a swing–

No. I’m not taking an unnecessary risk. That thing is dead as long as I don’t give it a chance to kill me.

He ducked, dodging another heavy swing. It was growing slower with every strike.

Max refused to get to close until it was dragging the sword behind it. Its side was covered in goblin blood down to its leg as well.

Now’s the perfect chance!

He rushed it, faking right and going left.

The thing roared an exhausted battlecry and swung the blade toward his right and missed.

Max bulrushed right through it, sending it sprawling. He pressed his advantage and kicked the blade from its weakened grip and tackled its struggling form to the ground. The stench, at this range, pierced through the thick ribbons he’d covered his nose and mouth with. He wanted to gag, but forced it down.

The goblin grabbed the wrist with the dagger as it scrambled to fight him off it.