“Dammit”, Edwin groaned as he missed another target.

  He knew that he knew how to accurately fire a gun but these muskets were proving to be more trouble than they were worth. Rolling a musket ball between his fingers, “These are the best of these weapons you have?”

  “They were considered a gift from one of the heroes of a past demon war, and despite their shortcomings, we weren’t going to spit in the face of one of our saviors.”

  Looking over the tables there was a detail, or rather the lack of one that piqued his curiosity. Running his hands over the tip of the guns’ barrel, “Do you ever modify these weapons for different kinds of combat.”

  He could feel the Priest watching his every minute observations and measuring his words, “Are you deaf”, he asked in a hard tone, “I already told you that if someone wanted to, they could use these weapons as a conduit for their magic. Or if one were desperate enough, I suppose you could use one like an overly decorated club. Though, whether you use them as they are, or as a means to channel your magic, it’s best to do it in a group.”

  Edwin carefully placed the musket back in its rack, ‘These guys don’t know about bayonets. But those have been a part of… then again, this world doesn’t function on the same logic.”

  “If you’re done embarrassing yourself with marksmanship, would you care to test your mettle with a real man’s form of combat”, the priest practically sneered at him.

  Edwin stared at the man while he moved towards the other weapons racks, not saying a word, but inwardly, ‘With how close he’s standing, it’s unlikely I’d miss. Just one quick shot to the abdomen… No to the leg. Limit his movement, capitalize on that, knock him to the ground. His knuckles have been broken at least once, so they wouldn’t be as effective.’

  “Are you going to choose a weapon or just stand there all day”, the Priest raised his voice, “Choose a weapon, then head to the pit. One of my students will face you.”

  Edwin stopped in front of a rack of smaller handheld weapons and there was one that gave him that pricking feeling. It was eighteen inches long and had a peculiar shape, like a misshapen triangle. The shape seemed awkward, but it had a familiar feeling as he tested the weight in his hand. A few spaces down, he picked up a hatchet, the rear side flat for more blunt force damage. Feeling the two weapons in his hands brought a sense of familiarity upon him, like he recognized these tools as easily as his own fingers.

  Walking into the pit, he saw his opponent, a young man, probably in his early twenties. He was slightly taller than Edwin, but his shoulders were even more broad. The young man was evaluating him with a sharp gaze and had a ghost of a smile at what he was seeing, “You’re using those thieve’s tools”, he rhetorically taunted Edwin.

  “Make him bleed, Marcus”, some students from the sidelines yelled.

  From what Edwin could see, this kid was a typical yard bully. He had enough skill to put everyone under his thumb in this ring, probably had some experience in the field too. His posture was guarded and the broadsword was casually held with both hands at his hip. One of those naturally talented boys who had maintained his position as top dog. Deciding to humor the boy, “If a weapon is only a weapon, then your imagination is lacking.”

  The young man slightly smirked, “But it doesn’t matter if the person trying to kill you outmatches you, now does it?”

  “If your goal is to intimidate or prove your swordsmanship, you’re failing at both.”

  Edwin’s opponents’ smirk disappeared as he narrowed his eyes and lifted his sword to his right shoulder, pointed right at Edwin’s chest.

  “Enough talk”, the head priest called, “You will fight until one of you draws first blood. Begin!”

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  “First blood, first blood”, the other students began chanting.

  Edwin closed his eyes and took a breath.

  There is nothing.

  The world does not exist.

  People do not exist.

  There is only your objective and the obstacles that stand in the way of completing it.

  You do not feel.

  You do not think.

  You simply…

  Edwin opened his eyes once more. They were wide, unblinking, unfeeling. They were not the eyes of a human. They were the eyes of something meant to…

  Destroy

  There was not a human in front of him. There was only a thing with no name. A thing holding a weapon. A weapon meant to kill him. The thing’s weapon gave it the reach and weight advantage. Its ability to dodge was probably substituted for blocking. The thing took quick, measured steps towards him and used its lower hand to leverage the sword to quickly slash towards his shoulder. Quickly stepping forward, Edwin ducked under the slash. The thing took a moment to evaluate him. Keeping his knees bent and his both weapons at the ready, Edwin kept himself at a distance perfect for either closing in or dodging.

  The thing took another swipe to try and knock him off balance, followed by a quick underhand thrust to make him move his head, then another horizontal slash at his neck that Edwin ducked underneath. It was quick, it was accurate, but it was also used to getting its way within a few seconds, the red on its face more likely from frustration than exertion. And its perception of what could be done was quite limited.

  The thing stepped towards him one more time, attempting an over the shoulder slash. Edwin quickly stepped forward and slid his foot to kick dirt in the thing’s face. Using the underside of the hatchet to lock the sword, he drew it into his chest and slammed the butt of his knife into the thing’s hand. He threw his elbow into the things face, shocking it before bringing the hatchet to the shoulder and the knife to its neck. Task completed.

  Blinking a few times, Edwin looked in front of him and saw the boy, Marcus whose nose was bent sideways and his face looking like his life was flashing before him. Drawing the knife away from Marcus’ neck, the young man fell to his knees as the shock of such a swift loss left him utterly stunned. Setting the knife on the ground, Edwin snapped his fingers in front of his opponent’s face, “Hey, you alright?”

  “Enough, enough”, Edwin heard as he turned and saw the priest calling an end to the fight. He grabbed Edwin’s wrist, “This was meant to be a test of skills, not a chance to kill one of my top students.”

  Turning the face of the blade towards him, “Since this was a fight to first blood, does that mean that I win?”

  The priest looked at the blade and indeed, there was a small trail of blood. Moving past Edwin, he looked at his protege’s body. There wasn’t any noticeable cut on him anywhere. He was about to reprimand the Unknown Hero when he saw a sliver of blood on the side of Marcus' neck, right above his artery. If the otherworlder had pressed his blade even half an inch further, his student would potentially be bleeding out.

  “No, you do not win”, the priest bellowed, “It is clear to me that you have no aptitude as a warrior whatsoever.”

  For the first time that day, Thatch was really annoyed, “Excuse me? You told me to fight the guy to first blood and I managed to do so. Unless there was some rule that you failed to explain, then I believe the conditions were satisfied.”

  The priest looked at Thatch imperiously, “Let me start with your choice of weapons. Better suited for an assassin than that of a soldier. The entire time, you hardly engaged in a fight, you merely dodged. Then to bring your fight to an end, you cheated.”

  Edwin stepped right into the priest’s face, “It’s called taking advantage of the terrain, your holiness”, his voice dripped with sarcasm, “And last time I checked, that was every bit as valuable a skill as knowing how to swing a blade. Your student treated this like a vanity match, I treated this like the fight you said it was. Who’s really showing a warrior’s intuition here?”

  The priest raised his arms as if to strike Edwin and he was prepared to flatten the man, but instead the priest pointed his finger towards the Temple doors, “Leave. Go back to the manor. You are automatically being transferred to the next temple to complete your training. I will not tolerate a man who relies on cheap tricks rather than true skill to win a fight.”

  Thatch didn’t offer the man any argument, silently placing his weapons back where he got them and walked out without hurrying. The priest turned around and kneeled in front of Marcus who finally regained his senses and was standing on shaky legs.

  “Marcus, my boy, I thought I told you to use your Warrior’s Dominance magic from the start to draw out any latent power.”

  “I-I did, sir, but it didn’t seem to matter,” Marcus swallowed, “He just brushed it off like nothing and never lost composure. And no matter how fast I moved, he seemed to be able to predict what I would do. The whole time, it wasn’t like fighting a person, it was more like… something only meant to kill you.”