92 Duel I (1/2)

Though night's shadowy tendrils had creeped across a sleepy Riviera, the moon rose in her full splendor today, casting a bright presence of ghostly pale light everywhere. It was a full moon, and to Li, he thought it far brighter than the one from his home world, though he could not give an accurate assessment considering that he had never seen the moon or sun uncovered by pollution.

The moon almost shone a spotlight in the grass next to the fields where Launcelot and Azhar stood facing each other, each ten meters away. Around them, Launcelot, dressed only in leather pants and shirt, had carved out a circle twenty meters across in diameter on the dirt with his shield. Anyone stepping out the ring lost. Standard bare-fisted dueling rules in this world: twenty meter ring, no weapons, no armor, no magic aside from skills learned through martial classes.

Li cocked his head. From the way Launcelot could draw the circle so easily and so perfectly, either the noble had quite the fondness for drawing circles, or he had been in many duels.

Azhar, as always, stood shirtless, revealing the tattoos etched all across his body. The colorful ink images seemed to gleam and dance under the moonlight as he jumped up and down, getting his circulation up. His right arm hung limp at his body as he did so, swaying from to and fro with zero control.

Li, Jeanne, and Sylvie watched from outside the circle. Zagan momentarily peeked his tawny head from the fields, glancing at the commotion, and then scoffed before lying back down again, no doubt thinking to himself that mortal stupidity was running abound again.

The wyrm hung around Li's legs, scared of the incoming fight and yet curious, her eyes wide open as she almost excitedly anticipated the bloodshed to come. Li somewhat worried whether that bloodthirstiness would stay with her as she grew up.

”This is madness,” said Jeanne as she side by side with Sylvie, grasping her hand. She turned to Li, her blonde locks almost pale like flashes of silver under the moonlight. ”Can you not stop them, Li?”

”Their prides are on the line, and let me tell you, there isn't much more a man, especially men like them, care more than that,” said Li as he watched with arms crossed. ”And besides, the winner is obviously going to be Launcelot – the man can use both arms.

But Azhar is too desperate right now, too angry. He won't see reason until it's physically hit into him, and I trust Launcelot will pull his punches so that this isn't a real duel, more a teaching experience.”

”I agree,” said Sylvie, though reluctantly.

”Sylv?” questioned Jeanne, the anxiety and confusion visible on her face as she had expected the assassin to be in favor of ending this duel before it began

”This is my fault, and you are right, this is madness, but you know Az, Jeanne. He has never been one for words.” Sylvie sighed. ”This is the only way to make him see reason.” She broke from Jeanne's hand and came to Li's side, tugging at his arm. ”If ever you notice the fight turning too violent, then please, will you end it? Az will not stand for it if we are the ones to end it for him.”

”You have my word for that,” said Li.

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Azhar swept his long and unruly hair behind his head as he exhaled, his defined muscles clenching as he drew power into himself. He drew his left arm out, balling the hand into a fist. His build was lean but extraordinarily fit. The type of build a professional runner would have, though slightly bulkier from having to ocassionally wrestle with monsters.

On the opposite end of the ring, Launcelot stood in normal posture. Without his armor, it was much easier to see his build, and in terms of sheer muscle mass, the shielder outweighed Azhar significantly.

His muscles were developed and pronounced, almost to the point that it did not seem like they matched his prettyboy face topped with youthful and curly blonde hair. Countless old scars ran up and down his body – a rarity in this world where most people used elixirs and healing spells to erase wounds.

”I've downed plenty of brainless muscleheads like you,” said Azhar as he scanned Launcelot's build. ”Ya ain't nothin' once you take a couple of hits. I ain't even need my arm for this.”

”That may be true,” said Launcelot. He took a fighting stance, his arms raised in a guard, his posture crouching a little and his shoulders raising to protect his head. His legs were shoulder-width apart and slightly bent, giving him perfect leverage and range of motion to strike and dodge.

”But if I am fighting you with my honor as a Lakely on the line, then that very same honor demands I fight you upon the same grounds.”

Launcelot put his right arm tightly behind his back.

Azhar blinked. Li could tell the hinterlander was shaken up that Launcelot exhibited what appeared to be a perfectly trained boxing stance.

”I ain't gonna' go easy on you just cause' you're goin' easy on me,” said Azhar, still willing to push forwards.

”You are a formidable warrior, my friend,” said Launcelot. He took in several calm and controlled breaths, his eyes narrowing in intense focus. ”I cannot afford to hold back, nor will I expect the same from you.”

With this, Launcelot and Azhar began stepping towards each other. They did not strike at first, merely circling around each other to gauge their intents.

Li put a hand to his chin. He was no expert on fighting, but he had somewhat functional knowledge from having a passing spectating interest in combat sports. With Launcelot disabling his arm, the footing here was more even. Azhar had longer reach than Launcelot, but Launcelot had a significant weight and frame advantage.

But at the same time, this was a world of magic and superhuman strength. But even then, the fighting dynamics were similar. Azhar, as a ranger investing in agility, would have more speed and evasive potential while Launcelot as a tank investing in strength would be sturdier and pack stronger blows. Launcelot had a few levels on Azhar, too, but the difference was not massive.

Where the differences would arise would be in the skills they used.

”Damn it all. Enough waitin'. Time to take you down!” Azhar made the first move, rushing forwards with his left arm cocked back. He loosed a heavy and quick punch right towards Launcelot's face.

Launcelot swerved his body to the side, letting Azhar's punch collide with his raised and guarding arm. Launcelot had enough finesse that he did not simply let his guard fully absorb the punch head on, but he shifted his weight at the last moment to let the heavy blow almost glide past him, leaving Azhar open and in his range.

Launcelot shot out a lightning fast jab at Azhar's sternum, knocking the hinterlander back.

Azhar coughed to catch his breath, but Launcelot was upon him, capitalizing on the moment of weakness in an instant.