B4 Chapter 56: First Blood

When Quintus and Grund clashed again, things were clearly different. Grund no longer focused on disarming Quintus. Instead, he went for blood in truth, knifelike hands flashing out in a flurry of attacks. They came so quickly and in such volumes that Quintus was forced to use his skills more actively, [Rend] and [Tear] creating openings as they forced the orc to dodge or risk taking an injury. He leveraged the larger space that the skills occupied to his advantage and used [Sure Footing] to move in unpredictable ways across the ground.

Even with all of that, a number of blows actually managed to land. The orc's speed and strength were nothing to scoff at, empowered as he was. But the attacks pinged off of his reinforced armor, leaving it dented and scraped but ultimately intact. It held up even better than his shield had alone. He would have to thank Gareth again for the fine work.

Grund began to use the glowing energy in his fists more and more, wielding it like an actual weapon. One of his kicks left a visible gouge in the ground, and Quintus barely deflected a punch that sounded eerily similar to a blade whistling by his ear. Quintus had his hands full on defense; the occasional glancing blow he managed was not enough to pierce the orc's toughened skin.

On and on they continued. They exchanged blows with ever-increasing speed, working to find each other's limits and only finding more depth. Quintus felt good, more so than he'd expected in a drawn-out battle like this. And rather than tiring, he only felt better. He felt himself standing straighter, more power entering every blow as they continued.

He allowed himself the briefest glance at their surroundings. More Legionnaires were there now, shouting and taking bets. Orcs as well. Anyone who happened to be on break began spectating the match and watching the clash of the two leaders.

That explained it, then. [Crowd Favorite] was one of those titles that he didn't often think about or use, but that didn't mean it was useless. If he had to guess, the one hundred Legionnaires encircling them were counted by the skill as "members of the audience" as well. [Arena Champion] would also explain how he was even remotely keeping up with the orc, given the massive boost to stats when fighting solo. All factors worked massively in his favor.

[Tactician's Awareness] took the information and integrated it into his fighting. If he could gain more benefits from the audience's enthusiasm, then it would benefit him to give them a bit of a show. Not that he'd been looking to end things with brutal efficiency, anyway. If he had, then he would have come out of the gate with a vengeance.

Grund suddenly dove low, launching himself at Quintus's legs. His arms glowed white as they prepared to block any downward sword strike that Quintus might try.

His senses flared in warning. [Sure Footing] should keep him from falling or being tackled to the ground. But Grund should have realized that by now. This was a trap. He had a different goal in mind.

Quintus leaped into the air, slashing downward at the same time toward Grund's head. The orc twisted mid-dive to parry the blade and try grabbing it again, but Quintus was ready. The blade angled sharply away from the orc's hand as Quintus kicked again, launching himself back toward the ground behind the orc and rolling cleanly to his feet. He dimly heard the spectators roar with appreciation.

He watched Grund smoothly regain his feet on the other side of the ring. The orc was doing well not to overplay his hand. But with each exchange, Quintus learned just a little more about his fighting style. While his barehanded blows and kicks were effective, Grund's insistence on trying to grapple made his true intentions clear. And if he successfully grabbed hold, Quintus had no doubt that his own advantages would disappear in an instant.

Part of him wanted to see what Grund could do if he got what he wanted. But [Tactician's Awareness] made it abundantly clear how stupid of an idea that was. Perhaps another time, when his own reputation wasn't at stake among the men.

The fight continued on. As seconds turned into minutes, Quintus could see evidence of his opponent beginning to tire. It wasn't unexpected---from his understanding, that [Battle Trance] wasn't something that could be sustained indefinitely. Meanwhile, Quintus was able to draw on his own Legion's stamina at will, though he tried not to waste too much energy on his own personal doings. Their pool was seeing enough use in breaking down that dragon, after all. Regardless, he'd be able to outlast the orc easily.

Grund seemed to realize that as well. He launched forward even more aggressively than before. The orc let loose with his offense, and Quintus felt for the first time as though he truly was not holding back. Blows rained in from both sides in a fluid combination of quick strikes, each one devastating in its own right. His sword never stopped moving, and his feet danced across the ground to keep himself on the knife's edge of the orc's range.

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But just when he thought that Grund was putting his all into the attacks, they grew even more intense. The orc pushed himself, boxing Quintus in with an assault from every angle. He learned exactly how close he could draw to a [Rend] or [Tear] empowered blow without it breaking the skin, and what angles Quintus couldn't cover even with all of his abilities. He began sending out leg sweeps, not to knock Quintus off his feet, but to further limit his options by forcing him to plant those feet or jump.

Grund was learning, and at an alarming rate. Quintus realized that the slow ramp-up he'd experienced over the course of this fight was not just due to the orc holding back. He was growing and learning from the fight in real time, turning into a truly fearsome opponent.

Quintus prepared to end this. Though Grund may tire before actually achieving victory, the path there was becoming narrower by the second. Openings disappeared and shrank as the orc adjusted his approach. And though Quintus could also feel himself improving, it wasn't nearly at the rate he would need to keep up forever.

The exchange went for over thirty consecutive blows in a chain that looked like it was choreographed, with no hint of stopping. It was only then that Quintus saw the opening he needed. He allowed his sword to drift just a fraction of an inch out of place for a parry. Grund didn't hesitate. The orc snatched it with two fingers, twisting it and ripping it from Quintus' grip. The steel flung across the ring and pinged harmlessly off a Legionnaire's shield.

Even though he'd been expecting it, Quintus found himself surprised by the sheer speed of the maneuver. His sword had simply disappeared in an instant. And with a knife hand aimed straight for a chink in his armor, he barely had any time to react.

His windblade sprang out of his belt in a hurricane of razor wind. Grund's red eyes widened, and he abruptly changed directions, turning the blow into a spin to avoid the invisible blade. Quintus didn't give him time to recover. With all his might, he braced himself against the ground and delivered a spinning kick to the orc's ribs. It wasn't enough to send him to the ground, not with his astonishing dexterity. But it was another opening.

Grund took just a fraction of a second to spin back toward Quintus, already lunging for what should have been a blind spot. Quintus flicked his foot and kicked up one half of his destroyed shield. Grund's blow rammed right into the wood and metal, sending a cloud of splinters skyward. It obscured the orc's vision for just a moment, slowing his attack long enough that Quintus could bring his blade around.

The orc was forced to dodge once more as a [Rend] and [Tear] infused windblade shot straight for his chest. He didn't dare try to parry it, and with good reason. Quintus was all but certain it would have just lost the orc an arm. But as Grund leaned out of the way, Quintus took that opportunity to charge forward. He rammed one shoulder into the orc, taking him by surprise and smashing him against the shield wall at the edge of the ring. His chin clipped the sharp upper edge of one of the shields, though the line didn't budge.

His opponent grunted in surprise but recovered quickly. His arms and legs wrapped around Quintus like live snakes, immobilizing his limbs and twisting them into impossible positions. All of the warnings he'd felt from [Tactician's Awareness] wasted no time in proving true. Quintus felt his armor groan under the pressure and found himself groaning as well. He struggled, but Grund's grip was like iron.

"Do you yield?" The orc asked softly in his ear.

Quintus let out a dry chuckle. "I don't need to."

Grund frowned as though confused. Until a small drop of blood dripped onto Quintus's face.

The orc released his opponent instantly. One green hand rose to his chin, finding the small wound there.

"How clever." Grund stared at the blood as Quintus regained his feet. "I truly did not consider that as an option."

Quintus dusted himself off. "Strange, coming from the one with knives for hands."

Grund chuckled. "A fair point."

The orc deflated, slowly shrinking back to his normal, though still above-average size. He remained standing, though Quintus could see the slight trembling of his exhausted limbs as the [Battle Trance] wore off.

Grund stepped carefully forward with one hand extended. The glow that had once suffused it was gone. "A well-fought bout. You have my gratitude."

Quintus clasped the orc's hand. "Same to you. I haven't had a spar that good in ages."

In truth, he wasn't sure he'd ever had such an enjoyable fight, and certainly not against such an interesting opponent. Grund bared his tusks in that strange grimace of a smile again. "Nor have I. If you ever wish to exchange pointers again, I would not be opposed to it."

"Maybe another time." Quintus nodded toward the distant dragon corpses and the crowd. "Don't want to delay things too much."

He had a point. Even now, the centurions were shouting at the gathered Legionnaires to disperse and get back to work. But not before a significant amount of coin exchanged hands.

He released the orc's hand, looking him over once more. After their fight, he thought he had a better idea of Grund's abilities and his character. This was indeed a warrior to be wary of, still slightly inexperienced, but cunning beyond expectations. Yet despite that cunning, despite all of the times Grund had pressured him with attacks, he had not once felt a legitimate intent to kill. Even at the end, when Grund had Quintus immobilized, he didn't feel the slightest hint that the orc actually wanted to take advantage and end his life.

If Grund did secretly hide any animosity toward himself or the Legion, then he hid it exceedingly well. And given just a bit of time, Quintus felt certain that he'd grow into a real threat, one they'd be glad to have on their side.

They parted then, with Quintus heading back toward his Legion. He needed to check in on the progress his men had made. Then, he was well overdue for a visit to a class stone.