My sword drops from my hand as I fall backwards, sliding off the end of his blade, my loss decided. "Good… game…" I wheeze, a small smile on my face.
"Certainly," he responds, watching as I pull a healing potion of my own design from a pocket. After drinking it, I watch my wound significantly lessen in severity, until only a nasty scab surrounded by bruising remains.
"I assume you surrender?" he asks, sword loosely hanging over me.
I sigh aloud, saying "Not like I have much choice."
"Well, it was definitely a good game. And don't worry too much about your loss; we will have plenty of time to spar while on the field."
"Good to hear, good to hear," I say, gritting my teeth as I use my abdominal muscles to sit up. Using wind magic as support, I force myself into a standing position before then lifting into the air. While my body is certainly in need of rest, whatever invisible organ seemingly responsible for magic is at peak condition after not being used nearly at all while I was dueling with Reinhart.
While slowly flying off the field, I drink a few of my weaker endurance potions, restoring myself to an acceptable position. [Ahh… it's a shame I lost, but it's good to hear my soon-to-be commander promise that we will continue to spar while on the field together. It's amazing how he was able to fight for so long, though! Between Belfrost and I, he must have fought rather intensely for close to an hour and a half! Such is an impressive display of talent!
[Though I lost my duel with Reinhart, I feel that today has shown me both my strengths and weaknesses, and for that it was certainly time well spent. I now know that I need to focus on practicing integrating magic with my swordsmanship, as well as that my skills hold up well in battle and that I am quite capable against other soldiers.
[Heh. Who am I kidding? Sure, I have won against him in the past, but here, when it counted, I failed utterly. If I can't even beat Reinhart, a man incapable of magic of any form, in a duel with consistency, how can I hope to survive on a battlefield populated by mages like Lector and even Spellswords like Belfrost. That Belfrost is worse at swordsmanship than Reinhart is only important because Reinhart has his magic-dispelling blade. Against any other swordsman of equivalent ability to Reinhart, he would crush them with the almighty power of magic.
[Against Belfrost I would certainly lose, and he is merely a commander of middling power. What if a force like our general were to enter the field? Even without having ever seen him fight, I know I would lose in an instant against him.
[What have I actually accomplished in my time here? For all my efforts, am I likely to actually survive in battle, when a single powerful warrior could theoretically sweep the field of common soldiers and make short work of even our commanders? While it is certain that my chances of survival have increased during my time here, are they enough?
[No, of course my abilities are not at the level that they need to be. But didn't I expect that such would be the case going in? How could I expect to reach an all-powerful state in only a few short months? Of course I didn't; that would require a degree of foolishness that even I don't possess.
[No, the issue is that I had again grown prideful, confident in my ability, confident in my odds of survival. For all my efforts to direct praise from myself, it would seem that my humility has only been false. When I first came here, I thought my death on the battlefield to be certain. After I gained far more power than I could have thought possible, I began to drift from this belief. And now I am here, again reminded that my power is nowhere near the level that would allow complacency
[At least I still have time to develop, though pitifully little of it. On the field, my ability is sure to only grow, though whether it will grow fast enough to keep me alive, I am unsure. All I can do is to continue training, with a new emphasis placed on combining my magic and swordsmanship seamlessly.]
When I return my attention to the battle, I see Reinhart leading his side's troops in a one sided destruction of my own. Lector is nowhere to be seen, apparently still fighting those two enemy mages, who are also missing. Our side's commanders have been mostly wiped out, Reinhart's magic-dispersing sword neutralizing any attack they may unleash.
[Seriously], I think, [that is quite an overpowered blade; I wonder where he could have obtained it? And, perhaps more importantly, how does Reinhart have such endurance in battle? He has engaged five separate commanders, as well as me, and has come out on the top in each consecutive fight. Does he have a hidden store of endurance potions that I continuously fail to notice him drinking, or does he have some other methods? Well, whatever the case, he has single handedly brought his side victory, it would seem].
Just as I have judged my side to be in for a crushing defeat, Lector reappears from above the clouds, two wounded mages following him dejectedly. From his glorious and proud demeanor, entirely uninjured across his body, I can only assume him the victor.
Reinhart immediately turns to him. I expect him to initiate some sort of duel, but he only nods respectfully to Lector before striding off the field, a sign of surrender. Lector then begins to clear the field, demonstrating power beyond anything I had previously seen from him.
However, I don't pay close attention to Lector's one-sided crushing of the enemy; instead I look at Reinhart with a questioning gaze as he approaches the edge of the field. As soon as he is off the marked field, thus officially out of the game, I go to him.
"I assume that you desire to know why I surrendered without a fight?" he asks.
"Well, I'll admit that I was rather interested to see how a fight would go, yes."
"I would lose," he says flatly, before then continuing "Lector is simply too powerful a mage - my sword doesn't work on his spells; I have tried in the past to absolute failure. And against a mage with spells immune to my sword's effect, my loss is certain. My ability comes from forcing my opponents into my area of expertise, melee combat, and crushing them within it. When I am unable to do so, the odds of victory are minimal."
"Too powerful for your sword?" I question. [Does this mean that Lector's spells are more powerful than that elder scorpion's armor? How could such a thing be?]
However, Reinhart confirms it. "Yes, my sword, while a very useful tool, is only of legendary grade, and low legendary grade at that. The progression for magical weapons goes from common to ultimate, with legendary somewhere in the middle."
Seeing my curious expression, he sighs, asking "I assume you want me to explain sword grades?" After I nod, he sighs again, explaining "Fine. A magical sword's grade, or any magical weapon for that matter, is generally used to indicate power of its effects, as well as the strength of the blade itself. Blades of higher grades will have better and more powerful effects, alongside greater ability to break through tough materials. Take my sword, a legendary blade. It can cut through steel, and has the effects of dispersing all magic around it, as well as increasing its wielder's endurance. However, it is merely a replica of a much stronger, high-end mythical tier blade. The blade it is based on, nearly two grades above it, can disperse much stronger magic and gives its user effectively infinite endurance. It doesn't disperse its user's magic, and can cut through adamantium; as one can see, universally superior to my own.
"Blade quality is determined by many things; material used, the skill of the smith, and the age of the blade. Unlike normal swords, made of iron and sometimes steel, magical swords, at least well-produced ones, only grow in power and value as they age. The mythical blade I mentioned was only of high legendary grade when first forged by a dwarven smith around five millennia ago. However, it has reached a higher grade over time, almost as though evolving to be ever more powerful.
"Now, as for the grades themselves, they go from common to uncommon, to rare, to legendary, to mythical, and lastly to ultimate."
"If mythical is so powerful, how powerful is ultimate?" I ask.
"Incomparably stronger. Forget blades, only three items have ever reached the ultimate tier. The Armor of the Gods, the Sword of the Heavens, and the Bow of Lights, the three gifts from Aenae to the early humans. Each is powerful beyond compare, and among the three only the Bow remains in the hands of humanity - in the hands of the heretical Arenese empire, no less. The other two have been taken by different dragons, though I won't bore you with the history."
I actually know the history, but determining he doesn't need to know that, I don't mention it. Instead, I ask "Are there any people who have been able to forge mythical blades, without the detriment of the wait time?"
He moves to shake his head before instead shrugging. "Depends on how one defines 'people,' I suppose. While no humans have done so, there are reports of some ancient elves and dragons doing so. Furthermore, demons are definitely capable, as are celestials and gods. It is believed that some dwarves were capable of doing so, though they were wiped out so long ago as to be near-impossible to prove; afterall, legendary weapons from their time have had ages to evolve, and the signs of having evolved are not always clear."
Thinking on something he said earlier, I then ask "You say that there have only been three items of ultimate grade. Is this because those weapons were given down by Aenae or because they are actually so much stronger that even an ancient mythical weapon could never reach their level of power?"
"The latter. While our definition of ultimate weapons is based on the Bow of Lights and the Sword of the Heavens, any weapon that could rival them in power would be considered ultimate. However, no weapon has come close, no matter how powerful it is within the mythical tier. It is believed that only a god could make weapons that compete, though the weapons that the gods themselves use are so far beyond ultimate grade as to be incomparable. Well, I say that no weapon has come close, but there are rumors, and somewhat substantiated ones, that Reishvart, the Dragon of Death, has formed a blade to rival the Sword of the Heavens, which he has possessed since taking it long ago. However, these are still just rumors, and are hopefully false; if true, Reishvart would display himself as this world's greatest smith, as well as an existence able to rival the three evils, among which are his creator as well as his mentor."
"Yes, let's certainly hope that is the case. So, we depart tomorrow; how many deployments is this for you?" Recognizing that we have reached a point that I know the information for from my reading, I change the subject.
"This will be my seventh, and my third as a commander. I've participated in the quelling of the mountain rebellions, the suppression of the eastern monsters, and the war with Aren. Actually, the mountain rebellions were my most recent assignment, and necessitated me taking a break from the wider war with the Arenese. The people there had taken to following the doctrines of the Church of the Three Heroes - worshiping dragons, imagine! - and were requesting the Arenese Empire to annex them. Of course, if such a thing had occurred, the Arenese would have been able to reach past the mountains into our nation. I had actually only just gotten back from that, when I was asked to train new recruits. I haven't been in an actual battle in the three years since then, as apparently I bring more benefit to the kingdom by remaining here, training."
"Yes, your capability as a trainer cannot be understated. Have you received any info regarding our upcoming deployment?"
"Finally getting to the point, I see. Commander Lector and I will explain everything tomorrow, just wait until then."
I nod, and Reinhart continues along his way. [I wouldn't be surprised if he's quite irritated, and even humiliated, beneath the surface at being so unable to challenge Lector. How it must feel, to dedicate your life to improving your combat ability only to be forever kept low by a lack of magical manipulation ability. I honestly feel a bit bad for him; this world's unfairness seems to touch upon all of its inhabitants.
[Oh? It's fair in its equal distribution of unfairness? That's a ridiculous idea. Clearly I have it worse than Reinhart; I was forced into slavery upon entering this world, whereas he is merely incapable of magic. And besides, I am incapable of the superior branch of magic anyways! I have some ability in the less useful magic branch at the cost of being a slave bound in such a way as to make escape fully impossible, able to be killed at a whim of my masters.
[Still, though he has received better treatment at the hand of this world than I have, it still remains that he has been dealt a worse hand than, say, Belfrost. A noble, and a seemingly important one at that - I doubt that there is anything that he has experienced by this world's malignant hand that could ever compare to Reinhart, much less myself.
[That this world is evil is a certainty amongst even the most likely of things. And this evil is most definitely acted upon with conscious intent; I struggle to believe that there is any way that this world could be so evil without conscious effort towards such.
[Allowing in evil from other dimensions, alongside hell itself, corrupting its inhabitants, cursing its civilizations and people… such a world must be destroyed!]