Chapter 38 Duel

No one had ever looked at me like that before. I wondered how I looked in his eyes. The man from the sky, drenched in blood and the guts of the warren beast, Larry monstrous at my side.

I…I don’t know how it made me feel. Not good. It faltered me, actually. Balar was level four. I could tear him apart with my bare hands. But I had never sought a fight with another who was weaker than me.

I stopped in my tracks, but thankfully Miggy stepped forwards. ‘Your fight is with me isn’t it?’ I stowed my shard, feeling a wave of shame. Larry nudged at my side. He could sense every emotion I felt, and I was grateful for it then. To not have to verbalise it.

Balar’s wild strength returned once it was clear I wasn’t going to intervene. He brayed a coarse laugh. ‘You hide behind my sister’s skirt. Behind the might of the Reaver and the sovereign beast.’ He banged his club again, the sound echoing across the underground chamber. ‘You fight like a coward. Traps. Arrows.’ Bang. ‘You do not deserve to lead. You do not even deserve to be one of the Komo.’

Bang, bang, bang.

Miggy didn’t step back. Instead, he brought forth his spear. Bow gone, standing before the giant of a man, twice his size. ‘I’m right here,’ he said. ‘You want this fight so badly, then take it. I’m not hiding. No one will intervene.’

He kept his eyes on Balar, but I knew. These words were for me. It was one thing not to seek a fight, but what would happen next? Would I be able to stay back, to not get involved if Balar was about to crush Miggy’s skull? I felt my body tense, coiled like a viper. Ayla was beside me. Her eyes met mine. Slowly, she shook her head. I took a breath.

And I knew. This wasn’t my fight. This was his.

Balar roared.

Miggy was level seven. Balar was level four. It would help, but this wasn’t a video game. In the trials, skill was the equal to level. You needed both to triumph. I had learned this painfully from my very first fight against that mysterious vandal in the jungle all that time ago.

Balar was many things. A blunt instrument. A war-seeker. But he was no coward, and the way he wielded his club, I knew. This would be a dangerous fight for Miggy.

It came down to proficiency. As much as I hated to admit it, Balar had judged it correctly. Miggy fought best from the shadows. Stealth and traps. That had been my original fighting method too. It worked until it didn’t. The difference is that Miggy hadn’t worked on his spear proficiency. I thought about examining him, but then stopped myself. I didn’t know if he would feel it, even in the smallest way. Right now was not the time to throw him off his game. He needed to focus. So would I.

Larry growled.

Balar threw himself against Miggy. Smart. Closing the gap. Miggy was slightly faster, but even with the level difference, Balar was clearly stronger. His club strikes were like siege weapon attacks. No finesse, all power, with the intention of simply battering his opponent. Wild swings. I couldn’t help thinking of what I would do. Dodge, let him run out of stamina, then go in for a surgical strike.

Miggy wasn’t me though. Inexperienced. Emotional. I saw next the cost of Balar’s goading and I knew it had touched some deep part of Miggy he kept hidden, because he didn’t wait. He launched into an attack with his own spear. His thrusts hit their mark, but whilst his offence was good, his defence was non-existent. Balar’s club came down upon him like a landslide and Miggy flew seven feet in the air, crashing down. He got to his feet, spitting blood.

Balar wasted no time. No goading. No drawing this out. He’d come for one objective and he was going for it.

Come on, be smarter, I thought, you’re smarter than this, I know you are…

It wasn’t Balar that was going to kill him. It was pride. Well, fuck pride. Pride didn’t care if you were an archer or a spear wielder. Didn’t care that your opponent was tossing you around the room like a sack of nuts. His eyes met mine, and I was astonished. No fear. Only darkened resolve.

Get up.

He did, throwing away his spear. My heart leapt, thinking that in the next moment he would bring forth his bow, but he surprised me again. A shaman’s staff in his hand. His mouth was moving, incanting.

The club came again, but bright blue missiles erupted from the staff, needling at Balar. I had never seen that spell. I checked the combat log.

[Shaman’s Spell: Daggers of the Wolf – Conjure five spectral daggers. Does forty damage per dagger, and debuffs them with Sloth for ten seconds. Cannot miss. Can only be used once per long rest.]

[Sloth – Debuff. Endurance reduced by three. Stamina regeneration is slowed by 50%.]

Holy shit. Not something at all I would have done, but damn if it hadn’t been smart. Had he let himself get hit on purpose? Drain Balar’s stamina and then hit him with this?

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author’s work.

I seemed to get my answer as Miggy now retrieved his shard. He’d mastered his hotbar. He was cycling through weapons faster than I could keep track as he closed the gap between himself and the big man. Now his strikes were surgical. Balar simply couldn’t keep up. Ten seconds without defence, and Miggy utilised every one of them.

By the time he was done, Balar was bloody and wounded and on his knees. Heaving. Beaten. Miggy stood over him. There was nothing on his face. No thought in that head of his. No hate, no tactical thinking. The battle had taken him over. He raised the shard in both hands, ready to thrust it down-

‘No!’ Ayla had shouted, racing forwards between Balar and Miggy.

‘Step…aside,’ Balar wheezed. ‘This is the way of the tribe.’

‘Please,’ said Ayla, ‘he is a fool. But you have proven your strength against him. Let him live. The tribe will value your mercy.’

This would have melted me immediately. I almost took a step forwards, thinking it over, but Miggy didn’t relent. He pushed her roughly aside, staring at his opponent. The one who had caused him so much grief. The one who had tried to kill him twice this very day.