My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Leon looked worried. I suppose anyone would be in his place… hearing the faltering creak of your sword, feeling it as it slowly turned crooked, seeing within bare inches of your eyes the outline of the weakening link slowly forming down the middle.

His feet sunk into the sand - the soles of his boots slowly repelled backward - before, in a surge of effort, he swayed my fist to the side, taking that moment to separate our distances with a harsh kick forward. 

Unfortunately for him, I was already ready the moment he raised that leg - he struck, aiming for a low blow - only to be repelled by the harsher, harder clunk that was the surface of my shield. 

We barely moved an inch of each other… and Leon wasn't having any of that. It was the first time I heard him flustered, panicked - a fleeting grunt that lacked any composure - and unlike many of his maneuvers prior, the way he ran from me so far back was tactless, unrefined…

A retreat was so unbecoming of him, unprecedented too - he was making waves throughout the crowd in the worst of ways. Their valiant, unwavering Hero shrinking away from conflict… from me…

So uncool.

His shoulders slumped, breathing heavy, watching me with barely a sliver to be found of his once patronizing gaze. 

I also noticed he picked up something along the way - stole something more like - in both hands, he wielded blades. One slightly bent, the other still pointed straight… spilling grains of dirt down its gleaming surface. 

Bastard took my sword from literally right under me. Thinks himself a dual-wielder, does he? That's fine… two can play at that game.

"You…" He collected himself, tried for another smile, albeit, not as wide as it once was. "I take it you've been in skirmishes like this before?"

"I've seen my fair share of trouble, yes," I said, lowering both hand and shield, and walking a slow circle around his position.

"Hmm, thought as much…" His smile narrowed. "You can improvise, think quick on your feet… if you don't mind my asking, what kind of skirmishes were those?"

I just shook my head. "Nothing as high stakes as the one we're having now, trust me on that." 

Somewhere along my little stroll, I came upon a muffled thud hitting the tips of my feet, the unmistakable glint of his shield buried amidst the dirt and sand.

"Did you win those skirmishes though?" He continued to ask, my every move an alarming sight before his eyes.

Truth was, I didn't… at least not without a surplus of help from the mythical kind. But he doesn't need to know that now, does he? Especially when he already was thinking otherwise. Besides, who's to say I wouldn't win one now?

I reached out for that glimmer of white, and clutched it firmly in my other hand. Double the shields theoretically meant double the defense, yes? 

"Well," I answered him, bearing both shields before him. "How about we just leave that to your imagination, alright?"

Time to test that theory out.

I didn't know who was it that spurred forth first, but it was Leon that reached first, that struck first - both blades raised high only to plummet low in a sharp curve - coming to a screeching stop, I raised both my own and instantly felt both arms jerk and slant ever so slightly upon impact.

There was no way that was the end of that, a failed blow upwards was always followed by an attempt downwards, and indeed - with a single step back - he jabbed a single blade to my undefended chest, one that was immediately when I dropped a single shield like an anvil, sending both plummeting from grips and splattering to the dirt below.

Frustration again in the click of his tongue. "You have good instincts."

I shoved him away, propelling the both of us a meager distance away from each other, snorting as I did. "I think you mispronounced 'You piece of shit' just now." 

"If you say so," He said, reaching for the fallen sword.

Likewise, I reached for mine, and not a moment after, we were dancing again once more. In the tumultuous roar of a crowd ecstatic, in the blaring of speakers on the verge of a rupture, somehow our every clash stood out the most prominent.

Blow after blow. My double shields combo theory went both ways when it came to his dual-wielding. You'd think utilizing two blades instead of one would impede him more than it would help… but in his case, he was just that skilled.

Instead of hindering him, it just emboldened his aggression. His attacks faster, harder, and now without pause in-between blows. But now I've clogged up most of the vulnerable holes in my defense, and he found it just as hard to break through the crevices.

In a way, it was another impasse… him and I, and clearly he knew it too, except he wasn't as amused by the prospect as he was before.

"I suggest you just forfeit now," He said in the midst of his blows, a hard edge in his tone. "I'm still faster, still more skilled. It's only a matter of time before you slip up. Save your dignity." 

Then as if to affirm his claims, he thrust a blow that grazed the surface of my helm. I backed away at once, feeling a twinging in my palms and joints from the sole effort of keeping up with him.

"Forfeit?" I said, gasping, smiling. "What happened to putting on a show? Thought you wanted this to be a fight for the ages. You're really going to let the people down like that?"

"It's been memorable enough… long enough certainly," He said, wiping a droplet of sweat from his brow. "No harm if you'd just stop now."

"Good idea. I got a better one." I tightened my grip, steadied my breath. "How about you just shut up, alright? Or else say what you really mean." 

There it was, finally, after a long, tedious battle of attrition, blow after blow, slowly whittling him to his lowest, stripping him to his truest. No longer did he look the Hero so chivalrous and just. 

"Come on," I goaded, nudged. "Stop complimenting me. Stop trying to act perfect! You said it yourself, you're just like any other guy! So prove it! What would any other guy in your position say?"

His lips narrowed, his eyes glared. "I'm going to beat the shit out of you."

I braced my shields. "That's more like it."

In a burst of speed, Leon charged again - every stomp forward leaving clear imprints on the ground - I've never seen him this enraged before, clearly nobody else did either.

And when he struck, when he swung his swords, teeth bared, and hoarse growls spewing spit… the feeling of dread immediately ripple through me. Anger had made him faster, I couldn't keep up, his every swing was now a closer and closer narrow miss. 

That impasse was slipping away, and I was clinging on to it for dear life as finger by finger, it left my grip.

Then it finally happened… that impasse slipped.

Both shields repelled high by both blades slicing on either side - he left me exposed - and I didn't realize it… not until I felt the hard blow strike dead-center, and by then I was already stumbling back, desperate for the breath that left me.

Even with all the padding, the safeguard of a chest plate… it didn't matter one bit when it was up against him. A single kick delivered with unbridled intent was enough to send me nearly keeling over from the impact.

Leon didn't stop there. He marched, the clatter of his boots like alarm bells signaling an impending danger. No glances exchanged, not even a word. He hammered down his swords one after the other. Some I managed to block.

But most I couldn't.

It was a downpour of blades with every droplet splattering heavier and heavier. It was forcing me back, way back… staggering steps until my back was to the wall of the arena, and even then, Leon refused to relent.

"I told you, I told you," He hissed, his words thundering as much as his words. "You can't win this. I told you you'd lose, I warned you you'd lose. You didn't listen. I told you I'd win. Why don't you get it? I always win! Always! And you, I don't think you've won a single skirmish in your life! You always lose."

I almost always lose.

He always wins.

There were very many things I disagreed with Leon about. But this wasn't one of them. He was right… too right. I bore the weight of bitter defeat more times than I could count. Whereas Leon soared above in the wings of victory.

But that's exactly why he'll fall now. His victories would be his defeat. Because when victory's always guaranteed… you never get to feel what it's like to lose before.

You never get to feel the pain.

Me, I felt the sting of defeat almost every other day. I've been beaten, battered… pummeled. Pain wasn't a stranger. 

I'm willing to bet that he hasn't even shaken hands with pain before.

That's why I let him continue to beat me, why his blades always met their mark - the aches in my shoulders, the throbbing in my chest, the agony rippling through everywhere and anywhere all at once.

It's also precisely why I let my shields drop - why I let one stab and nearly skewer my eye. Why I let one slice at my neck. Because I knew I could take it, and I did.

I clasped my fist, searing pain behind a closed eye - I screamed, I yelled - through the pain, through the weight of defeat - I forced through it all. 

I threw everything into that blow, that one strike - I didn't even know if it'll land, or if it ever did - the pain everywhere drowned every other sensation - until it did.

The blows stopped.

The pain began to subside.

And in the midst of a silence that befell so sudden, I heard a final clangor resound, a clunk muffled- I opened my eyes - a helmet soaring the air landed slanted… right beside Leon himself, helmless, his golden locks sprawled out, lying limp in the dirt.

Unconscious.

Then like a fading, murky echo behind a thick veil of silence, I finally could hear Tyler after all this time. I couldn't hear him well, but I could hear him all the same... and judging by his expression, the rapid of his lips... the way he raised both arms so triumphantly.

I can kinda give a guess at reading lips...

It seems The Big Man has triumph, after all.

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