The matches were created and the fights began. The most interesting ones were between the evenly matched opponents. There was the towering knight with the lightning-fast sword against the nimble swordsman, the battle ending in a flurry of steel and a decisive strike. Then there was the battle between the two very skilled men, a clash of strength and cunning, each parry and thrust met with equal skill.
As Vivian observed from the sidelines she saw Gerald wave her over out of the corner of her eye.
"Hey kid, I have one more thing for you." The man pulled a sheathed sword from his burlap sack. "I wanted to be the first one to pass this down in my family but…" he had a sad look in his eye for a moment before it disappeared as quickly as it arrived.
Vivians eyes went wide. The armor was already too much but she couldn't accept this. "I can't-"
"You can. And you will. You've become like family to me… and you're doing what it was always mean for, battle." He unsheathed it and it was the most beautiful blade she'd ever seen but what shocked her the most is that when she wielded it, it was light.
"Impressive right? The design was meant for it to be light but durable." Gerald watched her try out a few moves with the sword with pride.
His eyes began to water as he wrapped Vivian in a tight bear hug. "Good luck out there Luke, not that you need it."
Vivian felt a pang of guilt as she thanked him but forced it down.
Finally, it was Vivian's turn. She was told she'd be facing a man by the name of Michaelson. She put on her helmet and arrived in the battlegrounds, the crowds anticipation was palpable. The cheers lessened as minutes passed with Vivian being the only one in the center of the grounds. The grandmaster and Ian were in the distance engaged in a heated discussion when another man approached the two.
Edgar.
Vivian swallowed dryly but held her focus on the three. He seemed upset and apparently must have had the final say as Ian looked pensive before agreeing.
"Amazing that they'd let trash like you to this point."
A chill ran down Vivian spine before she whirled around coming face to face with Boris. The beast held an evil glint in his eye before donning his helmet.
The three men returned to the training ground and announced the change in opponent.
Soon after, the signal was given, and Boris charged at her. Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying in the sunlight. Vivian fought with a ferocity born of anger and determination. She was faster, more agile, and her strikes were precise. But Boris was stronger, his blows more powerful.
As the fight wore on, Vivian began to tire. Boris, sensing her weakness, pressed his advantage.
"You thought you had twisted from my grasp huh little bastard?"
He feinted a blow to her left, then struck with a powerful right. Vivian focused on his movements more than his words. She parried his attack, but Boris followed up with another, this time aiming for her unprotected side.
Vivian managed to deflect the blow, but the force of the impact sent her reeling. She stumbled backward, her breath ragged. Boris, seeing his opportunity, lunged forward.
As he drew closer, Vivian noticed something peculiar about his sword. It seemed to have a slight curve, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. A trick of the light, perhaps? Or something more sinister?
Before she could ponder the thought, Boris's sword was upon her. The blade struck her armor, a glancing blow that should have done little damage. But the curved blade, combined with Boris's strength, proved to be too much. The armor cracked, and the blade pierced her flesh.
A cry escaped Vivian's lips as pain shot through her body. She fell to the ground, defeated. The crowd gasped, unable to believe what they had just witnessed. Boris stood over her, his face twisted in a cruel smile.
"You should have known better than to challenge me," he sneered. "Stay on the ground, that's where trash belongs."
Vivian squeezed her eyes shut, her vision was blurring. She had been defeated, not by skill or strength, but by deceit.
As the blood poured from her wound, members of the medical team came to move her. They picked her up to take her to the medical tent, she was the only person being treated, but as she was brought inside she fought the hands trying to remove her armor.
"The boys gone mad!" said a nurse.
"No! Bring Crystal! Crystal Walker! Where is she?"
As the struggle continued Lynn and Gerald entered the tent, worry evident on their faces. Gerald ran to the cot Vivian lay on.
Vivian turned to Gerald pleading, "Crystal, please!" she winced in pain and held her side with her opposing hand.
Gerald looked up at the nurses and pleaded, "please let me take care of my nephew, he prefers only family"
After hearing Vivian cry out in pain the team decided to leave, murmuring something like "If he dies it's on you."
Vivian pleaded with Gerald as he told Lynn to grab the supplies he needed.
She started to get dizzy before everything went dark.