After another cycle of fights, I once again checked my schedule to see who I’d fight against, not surprised to see Izlir’s name next to mine. It was bound to happen some time soon and I was pleased that it was Izlir. I had long since wondered if his swordsmanship was better than mine, at least, technique-wise.

When the day came, we stood before each other, our blades drawn. We drew them before the announcer could begin the fight begin. The tips of the blades pointed up to the sky as we saluted to one another. We bowed our heads and muttered in Morsadian,

“We Serve the Emperor.”

We then sheathed our blades and stood across from each other, waiting for the announcer to begin the fight. A bit surprised and unsure what to do, the announcer promptly started the fight and in an instant, I and Izlir were at the center of the arena, our blades locked as we strove to overcome the other. A fierce grin covered Izlir’s face while mine was as impassive as ever. Just as quickly, our blades parted and we soon stood apart from one another once again, this time Izlir having drawn both of his blades and I with my dagger in my other hand.

Once more we clashed, this time our primary blades locked while our secondaries clashed fiercely, a series of jabs and small slashes. When I stabbed, he blocked and when he countered, I deflected. Once more we retreated but were soon locked in combat, this time my sword breaking through his defense of one sword, forcing him backward. I charged forwards, my sword cleaving through the air in huge sweeping strikes while my dagger darted forward like lightning.

He defended elegantly, his swords though slower than my daggers strikes were always placed in the proper place to intercept and the twin blades would form an x to catch my larger sword. He eclipsed each move with perfection and grace and I could not help but admire his technique. He truly was a greater swordsman, but he still lacked experience. Like right now, he was too busy focused on defense and not countering my attacks. But he should be able to adapt, after all, he had fought me before, he knew my fighting style to an extent.

He soon came to the same conclusion that I had come to, his eyes now searching for gaps in my attack which he could exploit. He soon found one, the fact that my sword could be deflected at a certain angle. That angle soon came and as he deflected, he slipped his other blade through my defense, forcing me to retreat. As I retreated, I tapped the two blade cores of my weapons together, mass flowing out from my greatsword to my dagger, equalizing the mass of both swords until I too had dual blades like Izlir.

He grinned at my choice and charged, his blades silver crescents as they slashed through the air towards me. I blocked each with my blades and retaliated, raining blows on him from all sides but he casually deflected them, beginning his counterattack. It was my turn to defend and I did so to the best of my abilities, fending off his graceful attacks which flowed constantly like a river. I stood my ground, our blades simply a flurry of metal as they clashed, morsadian steel ringing in the air.

But I was soon able to break through his attack, having outlasted his momentum and I began to build up my own, forcing him back with my greater strength and speed. Indeed, he was a remarkable warrior, if his strength and speed matched my own, I doubt I’d be able to defeat him with my morsadian armor. If he continued to grow, he would soon end up as a general’s elite guard and from there, the Emperor’s Imperial Elite. I must say that his skill is far better than mine but as warriors, I am far superior.

Warriors did not mean just skill, it meant being able to react to your enemy’s attack with one of your own, taking advantage of any gaps in their defenses. It was not to get into a predictable pattern, each action though with purpose must be completely reactive. Once on the attack, it is simply to keep them from countering and keeping the offensive until they fall or until you lose momentum. Momentum was essential in attack, it allowed one to transfer power form the first attack to the second, building up more and more energy until it peaks and then decreases.

A truly good warrior could increase the length of time it takes to reach the peak, something that it essential to battle, to ensure that once you’ve gained momentum that it lasts long enough until your enemy is dead. This same concept I applied now, my attacks targeting his weakest blade and preventing him from gaining momentum. Of course, it takes skill to do so, not technique but an iron grip over your body. It does not move without your consent, it does not even breath if you don’t allow it.

Mind over body, that is something needed in all warriors, to continue to fight even though your body is covered in wounds both inconsequential and fatal. But soon, my momentum peaked and with one last slash, I managed to break his guard and I rammed him with my shoulder, knocking him back. He retained his footing and I charged once more, intending on gaining more momentum but he negated my momentum by absorbing it as he blocked and took a step back.

I was impressed, it took quite some skill to pull that off without failing. I immediately disengaged, to continue to fight without momentum would be suicide. I prepared my defenses and once more our blades met. We continued our dance to the death, though I did return to my greatsword and dagger combo, but this time I did without the dagger. I wielded my sword with two hands and slashed with great power and speed, Izlir forced to retreat lest his blades snap from the pressure.

Once more, we withdrew to opposite sides of the arena, Izlir brandishing his blade and I transferring the mass of my right dual blade onto the core crystal of my left gauntlet, thickening it so that it could act as a shield. Holding out the reinforced gauntlet out before me, I transferred the remaining sword to my right hand, held at my side. We both tensed and darted forward, though this time, I knocked his first strike aside with my shield arm and slashed with my blade. He deflected it easily but I wasn’t done yet, spinning on my toes and curling my hands into a fist, I used the heel of my hand and hammered it into his shoulder. He stumbled but remained standing, grunting under the attack.

He swiped, hitting my shield arm, jarring it with a good amount of force. Oh boy, I was going to have some bruises tonight. But that’s fine, if I fell from some measly bruises I would have to kill myself out of shame. But with my reinforced left side, I rammed him with my shoulder once more, knocking him back and I charged once more, my left hand opened and I thrusted with my palm, hitting him in the gut. I then shoved with all my strength, launching him out of the arena.

I shook my left arm, my hand limp as it swished through the air. I then breathed out and bowed, Izlir climbing out of the arena. He stood up once more and bowed as well, a huge grin on his face. He then said,

“You bastard, I only know how to duel with dual swords!”

I said, “I concede that you are the better swordsman but I am the better warrior. One must adapt to any situation, no matter how strange.”

He retorted, “But you never change weapons while fighting monsters.”

I replied, “Believe it or not, a large sword is rather effective at cutting them in half.”

He inquired, “Then why the dagger?”

I answered, “To deal with those skilled enough to avoid my sword.”

I then left the arena, Izlir following behind. By now, I’ve tuned out that annoying announcer’s voice, really, did she need to announce every move we make? Anyways, I bought some ingots of high quality steel, this one far superior to that of Morsadian steel. He accepted the gift and immediately used it to make a second set of dual blades. Like me, he’ll be able to switch out his regular blades with the enhanced ones.

Izlir, he’ll be one of the greatest soldiers I would have fought beside. It is good that he is in the service of the Emperor, it would bring me no pleasure to kill him. I soon took a quest afterwards, I really needed to be doing something, just sitting around wouldn’t be helping me. Once more I plunged into the depths of the forest, the hunt for forest trolls beginning. I needed to kill fifty of them, a pitiful number but should be able to relieve my bloodthirst, really, that fight with Izlir really got it going.

But fifty wasn’t enough, merely an appetizer, I went on to hunt more, eventually stumbling on a goblin horde. I fell upon them, my sword cutting down five at a time, my dagger killing with each stab. But still this was not enough, after leaving an empty goblin nest, I stumbled off to find another target, my blood boiling as one commanding thought resounded throughout my mind, Kill! Let blood flow and corpses fall! Kill or be killed! Slaughter! Eviscerate!

Before I knew it, I stood atop a mountain of corpses, another goblin horde. Yet the bodies of other monsters were mixed in, a few trolls, a few undead skeletons and a few of the depraved tree people. I took a seat on top of the mountain and breathed out, my bloodlust finally sated. I’ll have to clean my armor thoroughly after this, it was simply caked in dried blood. I sighed, I should probably return to the trolls and collect their left ears as proof I killed them.

I stumbled down the hill of bodies and began to follow the trail of blood and corpses back. I soon discovered the original trolls I had killed and took their ears, most of the thickest dried blood having fallen off. I still had a big job of cleaning though, but it was a long time coming. Storing the ears away, I made my way back to the guild, turning in the ears, ignoring the stares that people directed my way. The quest master did raise an eyebrow at my state but did her job well, counting the ears and giving me my payment.

I then turned and walked out of the guild, heading to a pool deep in the forest in which to clean myself off. A few buckets won’t do shit against the dried blood, it needed to be fully submerged in water. I arrived at the pool without any trouble and there, I stripped myself of my armor and clothing, washing the clothing first. Even though I washed it as best I could, it was still slightly stained with the color of red. I didn’t mind, as long as it did its work I didn’t care.

Replacing the wet clothes, I turned my attention to my armor, first scrubbing the helmet clean of all impurities before moving on to the gauntlets and shin guards. Then the thigh guards came next and after that, the shoulder guards. Soon came my chestplate’s turn to be cleaned. I took extra care on this one as it had the insignia of the Morsadian Empire, an ant’s head complete with antenna and mandibles. A strange sign to be sure but if you think about it, not so strange.

Ants possess great empires, controlling massive amounts of territory for things their size. They protect insects that provide sustenance to them, claiming more of said insects from other ant empires. The soldier ants show utter loyalty to their queen who in turn produces more ants to either be workers or soldiers. Sure there are mighty creatures such as the spider but even it cannot stand up to the might of thousands of ants who bite fearlessly, doing all that they can to damage their enemy, even if it is naught but a scratch.

Like the ants, I as a soldier have pledged utter loyalty to the Emperor. He treats all of his citizens like his children, he is our father. His generosity attracts more “ants” to his empire and conquered are treated as citizens immediately. Of course, Morsad is not exactly like an ant hill but it is very much similar. Of course, having an ant for an insignia is often seen as being weak but let those who think such thoughts wallow in their ignorance. It is better that they do so, so when they attack you, they are not aware of the true strength you possess.

But I will do my best for the Emperor, even though I am separated from him. I will wait for as long as necessary, even if I am too old when the comm crystal activates, I will still march out to meet my brethren. No matter how old I am, even if the old Emperor is dead, I will meet them, it is my duty and the only meaning I have as a soldier.

Once all my armor was clean, I donned it, sliding my left gauntlet over a heat-scarred arm, a memento from the dragon. In fact, the entirety of my left side was burned, save my face. I managed to shield it with the body of a dead comrade, the corpse and the helmet providing just enough protection to prevent serious burns, so my face was able to heal without too bad of a scarring. Of course, I was still burned, though nothing as bad as my left side. The feeling of molten metal on your skin is… harrowing to say the least.

It was the first time I felt such pain before, I do believe that moment was the one of the few moments I ever screamed in agony. I remember it well, after all, it was one of the most exciting moments of my life. There I was, standing before the dragon, the corpses of my battalion around me. It was wounded, one of its eyes gouged out by a spear and a projectile the size of a log in its side, Morsad’s ballistae.

But we only managed off one shot before the dragon destroyed it and from there, countless were slaughtered. But I stood, casting away the burned remnants of a fellow soldier’s body which had shielded me. I fell on my right knee, screaming my throat raw as the pain fell upon me in waves, getting worse with each gust of wind. Somehow, when pain barely receded bearable levels, I still wasn’t dead. Instead, the dragon was still before me, its leaking wound adding to a pool of blood.

It seems it had succumbed to its injuries, though it was still conscious. Its one remaining eye glared at me balefully, though not with anger. It was curious, and with what little strength it had left, it spoke, its voice booming in my mind,

“I have never witnessed a mortal survive mine flames, even though shielded by the bodies of their comrades. What art thou?”

I replied through gritted teeth, “I’m a soldier. I kill the enemies of the Empire of die trying.”

“What admirable loyalty to thine country, but why art thou so loyal?” the dragon asked.

I replied, “That is the purpose of a soldier. A soldier-” I winced as the pain suddenly intensified, “A soldier is not a human, simply a sword or a shield.” I hissed out air through my gritted teeth, enduring the pain.

The dragon snorted, “I see that surviving my flames did come at a great cost.”

I winced, “If course, it was the flames of a dragon.”

He chuckled, “Yes, thou art right. But… it is time for this talk to end. One of us must die and I am too weak to survive. Thou have earned the right to slay me. No need to drag this out, I do not need a warrior’s death. It has been to long of a life, even for a dragon.”

I was silent, then I stood, the armor now fused with my skin in the intense heat. It was obviously painful but enough time had passed where it had cooled enough so that the pain didn’t knock me out. I leaned on my sword like one does with a crutch and limped over to the dragon, its one remaining eye regarding me with gratitude. That was the first time I met an opponent who was glad that I was taking their life and it shocked me. I stood still before him, my body frozen.

This was a dragon, this was a creature that was uncomparable in the heavens… and here I was, an insignificant soldier about to take its life. It was then that I shed a single tear, the one and only tear that I have ever shed in the army. I truly did not want to kill him and it greatly saddened me to do so. But, I was a soldier and I wasn’t going to let some emotions rule me. So with my heart hardened and a look of relief in the dragon’s eyes, I raised my sword and plunged it deep into its remaining eye.

The dragon died immediately, my sword penetrating deep into its brain. I stumbled backwards onto the battlefield, now devoid of all life except for me. I sighed and then looked at its corpse, glittering black scales and golden claws. He truly was a magnificent sight to behold. But not even my respect for such a creature could stop me from reaping from the rewards of battle and I began to absorb the raw materials to create new weapons and armor for myself. When I was done, all that was left of the mighty creature was its meat.

Of course, I helped myself to it as well, after all I needed strength to return and energy to heal from my wounds. I managed to take off my armor by deactivating the core crystals but that didn’t stop my burned skin from tearing at its absence. It was a miracle that I didn’t die, though I did have to spend an entire month recuperating just to have at least half of my wounds healed so that when I moved my body, it didn’t break the countless scabs that formed.

Once I was able to move, I returned to Morsad, leaving behind the battlefield that had now become a home to scavengers of all kinds. I had eaten most of the salvageable dragon meat so that no other creature would desecrate his remains, I had a right to them as his slayer. That did not mean that others could dine upon his flesh as well. Upon returning alone, I was interrogated intensely on the happenings of the battle. I left nothing out except for my conversation with the dragon, that fact did not need to be known.

Of course, when asked to display the new armor I got, I did so, the general inspecting it to make sure that it was truly of dragon origin. Once he had satisfied himself that all that I said was true, he re-assigned me to a scouting battalion, for the scouts were often the ones who first see combat and though there was a need for sneakiness, there was also a need for high skill in combat.

Out of nostalgia, I activated my sword core to turn into my dragon blade, the black and gold sword glinting in the fading light of the sun. I blinked, I had spent too much time here, it is time for me to return. Really, to lose myself in my memories, not very soldier-like at all. I stood, my armor and clothing dry by this point and headed back to the guild, changing my sword back to steel. I wondered once more if a worthy opponent would arrive, after all, it has been too long since my dragon blade has faced combat. Once again, it may have been my imagination but my sword seemed to quiver ever so slightly, as if it was anticipating such a battle with a worthy opponent. I laughed at myself for thinking such a thing, after all, blades aren’t sentient.