The arrangements for the duel were decided, it would be a battle royale comprising teams of two. Alicarde and Argint would be Carrisa's champions, while the elder selected their best fighters for the opposing team. To ensure fair play, they offered to sign a pact, but Carrisa slyly refused, saying she trusted their honor.
The village elder seemed moved by her words, although Alicarde suspected she had a trump card in case they failed. He wasn't sure, so he resolved not to fail and find out.
The elder led them out of the cabin and into the village. As they walked, Alicarde noticed the village was now bustling with life compared to earlier when it had seemed deserted. He observed small children, but most of the villagers were young, none older than twenty-five.
Their eyes followed Alicarde and his group with a mixture of hope, fear, and uncertainty—looks unfamiliar to Alicarde. Until recently, he had lived a normal life as a high schooler, then started college. Now, his world had been turned upside down, and these gazes were unsettling.
'It's making me feel self-conscious—great, I'm already forgetting how to walk,' Alicarde thought, trying to keep his composure.
They arrived at an arena—or rather, a training ground. The place had a polished, white surface unlike anything Alicarde had seen before, etched with symbols and magic circles that shimmered occasionally.
It featured obstacle courses, training dummies, racks filled with wooden weapons, and a large open area for combat.
Upon their arrival, they were greeted by a man with one arm, dressed in the same black battle outfits the guards wore.
Alicarde noticed that everyone in the village, even the children, wore these outfits and carried weapons—short blades, daggers, bows, and arrows.
'What a weird village,' Alicarde thought.
The man bowed in greeting.
"We have selected our champions, Mercy and Vance. They are the best of our young warriors. I would fight myself, but as you can see, I have but one arm, so I leave it to the youngsters. The fate of our tribe is in their hands now." His voice quivered at the end, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed.
Not long after he spoke, two young people stepped forward, a male and a female.
Mercy was a young woman with light skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, with elf-like ears and short dark horns. She wore a dark outfit with armor-like features—a fitted bodice and shoulder guards accentuating her form, while a short skirt with high slits allowed for swift movement. She also wore a mask that covered her nose and mouth, and though she had a hood, she hadn't used it.
Vance, the male, had similar features, light skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, with elf-like ears and short dark horns. He wore a black sleeveless tunic with a high collar and shoulder guards, giving him a noble yet robust look. The two looked eerily similar—both were strikingly handsome, and both stared at Alicarde with killer intent.
"Just my luck," Alicarde thought, feeling the urge to curse but refraining due to the solemn atmosphere.
With the duelists ready, they entered the arena. The villagers gathered around as a translucent film flickered into existence around them, sealing the combatants within.
Carrisa and the village elder took their seats. Inside the arena, Alicarde and Argint faced their opponents.
The duel didn't start immediately, giving them time to devise a plan. They decided that each would take on one opponent. Vance appeared stronger, so Argint offered to fight him.
The plan was for Alicarde to buy time with his immortality until Argint secured a win.
"Wow, glad to know you have such faith in me, Argint," Alicarde said sarcastically.
"I have enough faith that you would not to die—that should count for something," Argint replied with a smile.
Alicarde didn't mind the plan. All he had to do was delay his opponent using his body. He was used to pain by now—Carrisa's swordplay training had left him caked in his own blood more times than he could count.
That's why, when he fought Argint, he had been able to hold his own despite her superior skills. Another thing he had over these young Night Shades was real-world battle experience.
These shielded warriors had never faced an opponent without someone to protect them. Alicarde tried to reassure himself with that fact.
They had a decent chance of winning. No, they would win. After their strategy session, the one-armed Night Shade announced the beginning of the duel. The four combatants sized each other up, and they knew who they had to fight.
Mercy silently charged at Alicarde, her presence fading as if she were glitching out of existence. But too bad for her—Alicarde saw her coming. As she approached, she turned into a cloud of shadows and disappeared, reappearing right behind him.
She swung her sickle-like blade into his back. The pain made him stagger, but the wound wasn't deep. He turned with a wide swing of his sword, but she backed away, on guard. Ignoring the pain, Alicarde focused on his opponent.
He thought back to Carrisa's lessons: 'Never clash your weakness against your enemy's strengths; clash your strengths against their weaknesses.'
'But what the hell is her weakness? Or rather, what is my strength?' The thoughts raced through his mind.
She moved to attack again, her blade aiming for his midriff. He barely avoided the strike, but she followed up with a kick to his gut that nearly knocked the air out of him.
She faded into shadows again, grabbed Alicarde, and slammed him to the ground. He rolled and put some distance between them.
She leapt into the air and drop-kicked him, forcing him back.
The next few minutes were a blur of dodging and weaving between her deadly attacks. She had several chances to land a killing blow, but Alicarde always evaded at the last moment. He was getting tired, his breaths heavy.
Then he noticed something, this girl was faintly circulating mana through her body, using it in short bursts to enhance her joints. She launched another attack, turning into shadows again, and in mere seconds, she had him covered in blood.
But Alicarde was calm. He had been pretending to be more hurt than he was. Thanks to Carrisa's heartless training, he was used to this.
The blood covered his body, but none of her strikes had been fatal.
He decided to try his hand at mana too, remembering the patterns for body enhancement magic. He rotated the mana through his arms, legs, head, and chest. As he did, he moved it to his heart, and he charged forward. His body zoomed forward like a bullet, blitzing past her and barely stopping before he hit the translucent barrier.
He smiled, relieved he hadn't slammed into it. 'I finally got the hang of this body enhancement magic thing, and I have her to thank for it. So I'll be sure to wreck her as a gesture of my gratitude,' he thought.
Trying again, he zoomed forward, doubling his speed. His eyes glowed violet as he tried to catch the girl, but she was too fast. Her ability to turn into a cloud of shadows was annoying; he couldn't land a hit. She evaded each of his strikes with feline reflexes.
He stopped in the middle, lost on what to do.
Calming down, he focused his hearing to its limits.
He let her slash him again and again, trying to read her patterns like he would a video game boss.
After a few more attacks, he discerned a pattern in her movements. He left an opening, and seeing it, she charged forward without hesitation, plunging her blades into his heart as she turned corporeal.
But that was what Alicarde wanted.
He gritted his teeth, holding back the urge to cough up blood.
'I shouldn't have tried to compete with her in speed or technique,' Alicarde realized.
'As Carrisa said, I should use my strengths against her weakness, and my strength is my immortality.'
Grabbing her hand as her face clouded with shock, he lifted his sword and brought it down on her temple, the pommel smashing into her. As blood gushed out, she lost consciousness.
Alicarde couldn't bring himself to use the blade; he had been afraid of killing her. Her fall shifted the atmosphere of the duel. The people outside exclaimed as he pulled the sickle-like blade out of his chest. They had been silent for the most part, treating the duel with solemnity.
The male Night Shade had been fighting Argint, barely on even footing with her, but the girl's loss and the crowd's reaction distracted him for an instant.
That was all Argint needed. Glowing with silver mana, she punched him straight in the diaphragm.
As he staggered back, struggling to breathe, Alicarde charged and put his sword to his throat.
"Surrender," he commanded. The young man's eyes clouded with despair as he lay there, struggling to breathe from the impact of the punch.