PW Chapter 292: Duelists (Patreon)

The ground shook under Astrid’s feet as she rose up from Meteoric Descent. Behind her, she heard the walls shift and groan, and she hoped she hadn’t managed to damage it. Given that there were quite a few voices raised up in concern behind her, she worried that that would be the case. She couldn’t worry about that right now, though, if she wanted to make sure there was no slaughter on either side of the battlefield today. Then, with halting words that she was sure sounded infantile, she spoke in the Barbarian language to the stopped horde.

“I am the bloodbound sister to Muti Executioner, who was pursued and acknowledged as a warrior by Kalta Berserker years ago after we were victorious in the bronze tier of the Wandering Trials. Face me to prove your honor.”

It was a long phrase, and Astrid couldn’t say that she had any idea if she was saying it right. In retrospect, Astrid hated that she hadn’t even tried to learn Muti’s native tongue for years. Now, finally, she had just a few months of idle lessons that Muti gave when they were both resting. All she could say were casual greetings, and this was certainly not that. At least that practice helped with her accent…

After a few short moments, a small squad of the Barbarians walked towards her. Stretching her mind outward with Acumen-aligned mana, Astrid could feel that there was only a single Mithril tier accompanied by three Steel tiers and one Iron. The purpose of the Iron tier became quickly apparent as the Mithril tier spoke in the Barbarian tongue. When Astrid didn’t immediately respond to the words, the stronger ones turned their attention to the Iron.

“The intent of your challenge was understood, but the accent you used led us to believe that you would not speak our language fluently.”

The Iron who spoke was about Astrid’s height, and, going off of the robes he wore, was a Shaman. The three Steel tiers had similar leather armor with rings of some sort of metal sewn into the outside. It was almost like chain mail, but with significantly less metal and larger rings. Two women stood among the Steel tiers, though they and the Steel tier man both looked at the Mithril tier with unreserved adoration.

“Yes,” Astrid nodded. “Though I spent years with Muti, I myself am a Human and have the vocabulary of a child in your language. She schooled me on the words and the pronunciation, since we knew it would get me exactly where I am now.”

The Shaman interpreter turned to translate her words to the leader of the squad, and he nodded knowingly as he heard what she had to say. Astrid looked at him, and while Muti’s body bore dozens of scars, each one thick and corded, this man’s body was almost more scar than skin. His waist was wrapped in thick furs, with his trousers reaching down to his boots. Nothing below his waistline was visible, but his upper body only had a thick ruff of a fur Astrid didn’t recognize. Otherwise, his forearms and hands were wrapped with studded leather, leaving every other part of his upper body other than his neck and shoulders exposed.

Every type of injury that could be imagined had been inflicted on his upper body. Burns, frostbite, cuts, discoloration of every kind and more patterned his body. Even so, his face was smooth, a chinstrap beard the only thing that adorned him other than a series of scars under his left eye. His hair was a deep green, like that of plants that grew in the shade, and it ran down the center of his head in a thick war braid that reached halfway down his back. He spoke to the Shaman, who bowed his head and turned to address Astrid.

“You say you’ve been acknowledged as an honorable warrior by Kalta Berserker. Though he is not a member of our horde, his name is known to us. If he acknowledged you and this Muti as honorable warriors, you would know what he would have done to ensure that another of our people would know what you say is true.”

Astrid nodded as she dismissed her helmet. Her own hair was tied in the same fashion that theirs was, and she turned her face to the side to show the small scar at the corner of her eye. Though they stood some ten meters apart, all of the people who stood there had high enough attributes to be able to see clearly what she was showing. The leader’s face split in a wide grin as he saw that. He strolled forward, closing the distance until he was just a meter ahead of Astrid. When he stood there in front of her, she was reminded that, while she was a giant among humans, she was, at the very most, slightly above average among Barbarians.

The Mithril-tier man that stood in front of her was over two and a half meters tall. His ears, pointed and long, stuck out maybe five centimeters from his head, and as he smiled, his sharp teeth gleamed. There was something more than just the teeth themselves there, but Astrid didn’t pay any more attention to that. He spoke to her in halting words, though in her own language.

“I am Hraaken Pugilist, level 109. I will fight you.”

Astrid smiled back and, in the Barbarian tongue, replied, “I am Astrid Warrior, level 92. I will fight you.”

Then, Hraaken turned to his Shaman and started speaking fast. Astrid could maybe understand one of every eight or nine words, and couldn’t say that she understood what he was getting at. Fortunately, the shaman then turned to Astrid to give her the translation.

“Our expectations regarding this battle might be different than your own. We have not come here because it is our desire, but because it is the desire of our Hordemaster. Thus, if you prove to be as worthy as you say, Hraaken will take you into his harem as the condition for his victory. Then, instead of complete subjugation, he will simply take on hundred of the soldiers here as slaves while leaving the rest. That way, regardless of if you win, so long as you are not deceiving us about your capabilities, your goal will be achieved.”

Astrid had to fight to keep her face from twisting. The fact that this was being put forward as a reasonable, merciful option made her grit her teeth, but she supposed if she had to choose between getting killed or joining a harem, she’d probably go with the second just so she could have the hope of escape.

“Then, if I win, you retreat and serve as my escorts while I pass through your lands,” she countered. The Shaman turned, spoke with the leader, and Astrid could understand Hraaken’s agreement as he continued to grin widely.

“In order for the deal to be completed, both of you will need to remain alive at the end of the fight. However, if one of you is so weak as to be easily killed, then they didn’t deserve to enter the battlefield anyways,” the Shaman said as he and the Steel tiers all backed away. “Fight as best as you are able, because there is much to lose.”

Astrid, with her helmet reappearing on her head, expected Hraaken to fly towards her as fast as he could manage. Instead, she was surprised when he lowered himself into a fighting stance, but waited for her to be ready. She raised one hand, trying to get him to wait, and he nodded as he stood up. Astrid returned her attention back towards the walls, where the soldiers were crowded up against the edge. They stared, and going off of the whispers going up and down the line, it was obvious that those who hadn’t heard what she said were being filled in by those who could. The faces that turned towards her were surprised, and evidently, her declaration of her own level had started to instill some fear among the observers.

Then, a man’s voice rose in a roar. “You killed the tyrant usurper, Immortal! This Barbarian is nothing compared to what you’ve already done!”

“Wandering Immortal! Show them our power!”

“This green-haired bastard’s not good enough for you!”

The cheers quickly melted into unintelligible noise, but the support behind her had Astrid grinning. The explanation she was going to deliver was now completely unnecessary, and she got into position as she met the Pugilist’s eyes. He had backed away, now some twenty meters further than they had stopped before. Thirty meters was just barely long enough to be considered out of reach for the two of them, but Astrid knew nothing about the Barbarians’ fighting style.

As a Pugilist, he was going to be quick, focused not as much on devastating blows as on comboing her into submission. More than being able to survive a finishing blow from him, Astrid needed to make sure she didn’t fall into the pace he wanted to set for the battle. It wouldn’t matter how many charges of Regeneration she had if he kept her from being able to do anything back to him.

Now, with that small space between them, Hraaken raised his fists and his eyebrows at her. She nodded, and he blitzed forward. He was just about as fast as Muti, so that thirty meters didn’t mean anything. Astrid twisted her shield to take his first strike on it, but his fists fell like bolts of lightning. They rained against her shield in a flurry of blows, each one carrying a ridiculous strength that was obviously Skill-enhanced. Her left arm started to ache immediately, but while she was still trying to keep her guard up, Hraaken grabbed the bottom of her shield and yanked it to the side.

While he held her shield away with his right hand, his left shot towards her face. Without thinking, Astrid pushed mana into her helmet and let out a concentrated blast of freezing air. His fist crackled with lightning, dispelling the attack, but it had done its job as he lost his momentum. Astrid jumped back, though he stayed close.

As soon as she touched the ground, he was still on her, his fists flying like mad. Now, however, Astrid squatted low, ducking under a massive haymaker. He immediately shifted his movement to make it an overhand hammer blow, but, with a grunt, Astrid activated Meteoric Descent. Her hammer swung up to crash into his fist, and he was sent stumbling back with a grunt of pain as she sailed onward.

Astrid flew into the air, just a couple meters above his head, and then flew down towards him. With a clap of thunder that enhanced his speed, he tried to escape, but wasn’t able to fully leave the crater she created. He stumbled, his Alacrity reduced in the aura of greater gravity. Astrid wasn’t done, though, and pushed a fair amount of Mana into a Meteoric Smite. His center of mass was to be the crater, and as she flew forward, Astrid smiled at the inevitability of her next hit.

He raised his guard, and instead of smashing into his chest, Astrid’s hammer crunched into both of his forearms. The flickering Skill that covered his arms was dissipated with the first part of the hit, and while he grunted in pain, Astrid hadn’t crippled him with that single attack as she’d expected.

“Good! Strong!”

Hraaken’s words echoed out after she struck him, but Astrid didn’t answer. The echoing strike of her hammer had obviously damaged his left arm, and he stepped back as she chained several hammer blows towards him. For the first time in quite a while, Astrid felt downright slow in the fight. Obviously, the Pugilist had at least one Skill dedicated to being able to move just right and avoid her strikes. She tried to get another good hit in to finish the fight quickly, but he pulled back in a single jump. Though he was now ten meters away, that wasn’t nearly long enough for her to struggle to catch up to him.

Instead of using it immediately, Astrid pushed mana into her helmet to prepare a frost breath as she made a massive overhead blow towards him. He snapped both arms to the side as the shade of a massive ape of some sort interposed itself over him. His right hand swept over overhead and parried her hammer to the side. The strike that he couldn’t have dealt with otherwise slammed into the ground. His left arm, though it had been previously injured, crunched into the armor on her left side. Her kidney screamed in pain as she started to buckle.

She could feel lightning coursing inside of her body as the Pugilist laughed. His already blisteringly quick attacks tripled in speed as he activated his burst Skill. The fists fell on her like hammer blows, stronger than ever before, and Astrid’s vision swam for a second before she grinned and released the frost breath into his face.

“I guess I’ll do my best,” she grunted as she simply shook her head in that tiny opening. Whatever dizzying effect his strikes had quickly dissipated. She didn’t need to, as her Fortitude was more than high enough to have her be fine, but Astrid spent a charge of Regeneration. The stun had already faded, but Astrid’s mana and stamina both spiked as she raised her hammer, as if she was going to do another Smite from above. Hraaken shifted his stance to prepare for the overhand blow, and Astrid stepped forward into that opening, instead punching forward with the edge of her shield.

Meteoric Smite empowered the heavy chunk of metal and a stony patina of mana covered the edge as she crunched it into his ribs. He folded over, eyes going wide as blood spurted from his mouth. He started to activate some Skill, but Astrid took him by surprise as she dismissed her shield that’d just struck him. Her left hand snaked out, catching him by the right wrist. Then, she choked her grasp up on her hammer and started punching it into his face.

Another specter covered his head, that of a leathery creature with three horns, one in the center of the forehead and another on each temple. Her hammer crunched into his face twice in quick succession. The shade held strong as his left hand went flat and jabbed into her throat. A creature’s claws appeared over his fingers, and he managed to pierce through her defenses to slice through her windpipe.

Astrid laughed, the sound starting wet and becoming more regular as she spent a second charge of Regeneration. He was flagging and she could have paced herself, but, with an audience on both sides of the army, she raised her hammer again and used a third Meteoric Smite. This time, the hammer crunched through the protective aura on his head and smashed into his forehead. He dropped, his entire body limp except for his right hand that was held in Astrid’s left.

Astrid wondered if she’d killed him, but the fact that she didn’t get a notification was a measure of comfort. Maybe it was stupid of her to not want to kill anybody, given that she was going to the border where there were constant wars, but she felt that way, even so. She’d killed enough people recently.

“He’s still alive,” she said, stepping away from him as she let his arm flop free. “For now, at least. Do you want me to help with that?”

“Please do not,” the Shaman said, reaching forward and waving both hands desperately. “That would be a great shame after a worthy fight.”

Astrid nodded once and stepped back. As she did so, cheers went up along the wall behind her, and with a smile, she turned and gave a lazy wave with her left hand. The cheers grew louder at that, and slowly they consolidated into a single word.

“Immortal! Immortal! Immortal!”

She turned her attention back to the unconscious man on the ground before looking at the army some two hundred meters away. There, the people who were apparently under Hraaken’s command were still and quiet. Evidently, Astrid had earned at least some respect with that.

When she watched the Shaman, she saw the three Steel tiers all stretch out their arms, and the Shaman drew straight cuts across each one’s forearm. Then, he twisted his wrist, and the blood that dripped from their bodies braided together in the air before flowing into their leader’s forehead. The deformed skull quickly reverted to a regular shape, and the quiet, weak breathing from the Mithril tier became deep and regular. His eyes shot open, and he sat up in a quick movement.

“You strong. Very strong.”

He smiled as he reached out a hand. Astrid accepted it, and as soon as his grip tightened on her wrist, she knew what he was about to do. He pulled her forward, but she launched forward, twisting her hip and placing her right foot behind his left leg as she shouldered his gut. Hraaken slammed to the ground again, the sound thumping heavily.

He laughed loudly, his eyes disappearing in the broad smile that covered his face. The Pugilist let out a quick string of words in the Barbarian tongue as the Shaman began translating.

“This Muti you speak of has trained you in our ways. You have beaten me in preparedness, strength, and honor. If you wish, you may claim me. It would be an honor for me to be accepted into your harem.”

“You don’t need to worry about that because I don’t have one and I don’t want one,” Astrid said as she stood back up. “Instead, I want you to honor your agreement and get this army to leave. You five, stay nearby but without coming within a hundred meters of the walls. I’ll be wanting your guidance in the next day, though I don’t think that I’ll be accompanying you anytime soon.”

“It will be done,” the shaman said, bowing his head. Then, he asked a question that Astrid noted did not come from Hraaken first. “Are you truly level 92?”

“As of a few days ago, yes,” Astrid nodded. Then, with a force of will, she limited her Status until she could display just her name, Class, and total level.

As soon as she did it, the previously jovial Pugilist spun and kicked the Shaman in the thigh without warning. The man’s femur snapped audibly, and he fell with barely a sound. His eyes bugged out from the pain, but evidently, he’d expected that. Hraaken shouted, pointing a finger down in the collapsed man’s face. The Shaman bowed his head in acceptance of the obvious insults.

“What in the—” Astrid said, taking a step back as the three Steel tiers and the Mithril tier, as one, bowed their heads in apology.

“I insulted your honor by asking,” the Shaman explained, his breathing shallow. “This is the same punishment I expected.”

Astrid gritted her teeth, but decided not to say anything. She was planning to enter this country for a little while eventually, and with these people accompanying her, it would probably be for the best if she didn’t start questioning the leaders’ decisions when nobody present, including the man whose leg had been broken, had any complaints.

“Then we’ll talk sometime soon. I’ll send your army away before I have to start killing those too weak to stand up to me.”

Again, the Shaman translated, even as he lay on the ground. The rest of the small squad retreated, the two women picking up the wounded Iron tier and carrying him none too carefully towards the army. Shouted commands issued forward as it was done, but then Hraaken returned. He gestured for Astrid to take off her helmet, which she did. Then, he pulled a knife from his belt, cut a small line under his eye without looking to add to the notches there, and took a pinch of salt out of a pouch. Astrid, having experienced this once, mirrored the movement, touching her own blade not far away from the small scar she already had before making a small cut. Then, she reached out to him for a pinch of salt. He offered the pouch, she took a small measure, rubbed it in, and nodded.

Again, he grinned widely, though he shook his head with a certain regret that Astrid imagined had something to do with the fact that she didn’t want him. He didn’t say anything more as he led his people in retreat. Given how he’d comported himself until then, Astrid figured she could trust him to remain close, and turned towards the walls. There, the soldiers were cheering and jeering, excited for her victory and insulting the Barbarians for their failure.

There, on the walls, were plenty of people, and Astrid figured she should probably talk to them before she wandered off with the Barbarians. With a shrug of her shoulders, she dismissed her weapon and jogged towards the wall.