eFate: An MMO Story Chapter 85: Eric vs Soren

Making his way up the steps to the stage, Eric groaned as his opponent came into view. His opponent was one of the fighters he'd been hoping to avoid. A human adventurer, his opponent was a tall man with brown hair and a thick beard. Wearing chainmail, and wielding a sword and shield, Soren Gunnarson had won every match so far with standard, but brutally efficient tactics.

Weighing his options, Eric debated whether or not it was time to begin using magic. On the one hand, saving it for the top thirty-two or better would have the best results. On the other hand, failing to make it to the top thirty-two would quite literally be the worst result.

Glancing over at Soren, Eric shuddered. The man's glare was intense, his stare seemed to pierce right through him as he scraped the blade of his sword across the top of his shield.

Magic, definitely using magic, Eric decided, attempting to figure out a plan as the referee walked to the center of the stage.

"Fighters, are you ready?" the referee asked, glancing at both fighters.

Nodding to the referee, Eric gripped his bow, an arrow resting loosely in the palm of his right hand.

"Let the fight begin!" the referee thundered, his arm swinging down to signal the beginning of the fight.

Soren charged forward, letting out a loud warcry as he held his shield high in front of him. Bringing his bow up, Eric nocked the arrow and activated Charged Shot, aiming for the fighter's exposed leg. With a piercing sound, the arrow leapt from the bow, speeding forward to meet the charging fighter.

Thunk, the arrow embedded itself in Soren's upper leg, burying itself deep in his thigh. With an angry yell, Soren stumbled, catching himself as he continued his charge forward.

He's already covered more than half the stage, Eric realized with a jolt as he reached for another arrow. Hastily grabbing an arrow, Eric nocked it and let it fly, aiming once more for Soren's exposed legs.

This time, Soren was ready for the arrow. Lowering his shield, he caught the arrow on the rim, not breaking his stride as he closed in on Eric.

Soren's charge was lightning fast, almost unhindered by Eric's shots. No time for another shot, Eric judged, abandoning his bow and drawing his falchion as he rushed forward to meet Soren's charge. Dodging the fighter's opening swing, Eric swung his falchion, aiming for Soren's head. With a clang, Eric's blade slammed into Soren's shield, skating off the iron edge in a shower of sparks.

"Shit," Eric swore, jumping backwards as Soren's sword grazed past his ribs. Exchanging blows with his opponent, the two fought their way across the stage, Soren's shield continuously appearing in the path of Eric's falchion, stymying his attempts at offense.

For his part, Soren was frustrated at Eric's agility. No matter how he swung his sword, his blade failed to strike the agile half-elf, striking grazing blows or inflicting minor cuts as he attempted to cut off Eric's path of retreat.

Eric watched carefully as Soren dropped his guard, lowering his shield to send another blow his way. Bending backwards, Soren's blade filled Eric's vision as it flew just overhead. As the blade passed by within a hair's width of his face, Eric kicked outwards, catching Soren in the stomach, and sending him stumbling backwards.

As the fighter stumbled backwards, Eric took his falchion in both hands, leaping forward and swinging it hard in an overhead strike. Raising his sword, Soren met Eric's blade with his own, grimacing as the half-elf bore down upon him, pushing Soren's sword downwards and forcing him to one knee.

Just before Eric's falchion could cut into Soren's shoulder, the man's shield slammed into Eric's ribs, sending him flying backwards as Soren surged back to his feet, rushing forward to press his advantage.

Eric rolled to his feet, grimacing as he lashed out with his falchion to force Soren back, the fighter's hasty dodge just barely allowing him to avoid the half-elf's strike.

It appeared that he really couldn't get through this fight without using magic, Eric thought to himself, twisting slightly to avoid another blow as he contemplated how best to use his magic to bring this fight to a close as quickly as possible.

As Soren struck forth once more, Eric ducked underneath Soren's sword. Sidestepping the follow up shield bash, Eric slammed the pommel of his sword into Soren's ribs. Soren winced in pain and stumbled backwards, bringing his shield up to absorb Eric's follow up strike as he did so.

Smiling grimly, Eric's lashed out with his right leg, catching Soren in the thigh and driving the embedded arrow deeper into the man's flesh. With an agonized cry, Soren lost his footing, catching himself with his sword hand as he fell to the ground.

Raising his shield, Soren hunkered down, prepared to receive Eric's blade even from one knee. However, to his surprise, no blows came. Peering out from under his shield, Soren searched desperately for the fighter, but Eric seemed to have disappeared from his sight.

Eyes widening, Soren's instincts screamed as he brought his shield over his head, covering the back of his neck just in time to catch Eric's falchion as it descended. Letting out a sigh of relief, Soren was suddenly gripped with terror, as a hand came to rest on the side of his head.

"Sorry," Eric said simply, firing the prepared Wind Dart point blank into the side of Soren's skull.

With a scream, Soren was blasted to the side, rolling across the stage like a ragdoll. Not giving his opponent a chance to recover, Eric dashed forwards, hacking crazily at the defenseless fighter, inflicting wound after wound upon the man as he turtled up, desperately blocking whatever strikes he could.

With a flash of light, Soren disappeared, leaving a panting Eric standing alone on the stage, his bloody falchion resting where Soren's heart had been only seconds before, the tip trembling violently as Eric struggled to breathe.

"Erick Kystfyr wins! Soren Gunnarson is eliminated!" Halfthur announced, pointing to the tired half-elf.

Damn, what a fight, Eric thought to himself, exhaling slowly as he sheathed his sword. His stamina bar was blinking red, warning him that he was almost out of stamina. Any more, and he would have been forced to stand in place and hope that his magic was enough to finish off the wounded Soren. Probably something I should pay more careful attention to in the future, Eric thought ruefully to himself.

With a tired smile, Eric waved to the fans, stumbling slightly as he made his way down the stairs, briefly allowing the healer to replenish his health back to full before heading back to the stands.

"Damn, I can't believe Gunnarson lost," Halfthur said dejectedly.

"Why would you bet on two fighters in the same group anyways?" Wavesun asked curiously.

"Well they weren't placed in groups when I bet on them. Plus eight fighters make it out from each division. The odds were good that most of the high levels would make it out," Halfthur responded dejectedly.

"Serves you right," Alistair remarked. "There's only going to be one winner anyways, why would you bid on multiple fighters?"

Exchanging a look, Halfthur and Wavesun broke into laughter.

"Have ye really never made a bet before, Alistair?" Halfthur asked incredulously.

"He didn't bet that they'd win the entire tournament. He bet that they'd make it into the top thirty-two," Wavesun explained. "He can make a bet on the winner once the top thirty-two is decided."

"Tch. You'd be better off just commentating on the tournament like you're paid to do, Halfthur," Alistair grumbled, glaring at the dwarf.

Halfthur laughed, "No need to worry, Alistair. I'm taking my duties seriously. I've been doing my best to study the fighters who might make it into the top thirty-two. I'm ready to commentate the individual matches as soon as this round finishes up."

"Anything you need us to do for that?" Wavesun asked.

"There's going to be an intermission once this round ends. We'll explain the format of the top thirty-two to those who made it in, give them a bit of time to prepare themselves, and then we'll resume the tournament. I'll need you two to stand there and look pretty as I explain the rules. Oh and Wavesun, I'll need you to show off some of those fancy prizes you've brought from the capital. Give these fighters something to fight for," Halfthur explained slyly.

Wavesun grinned, "Something like this?" he asked, taking a glowing sword out from a bracelet on his arm.

Halfthur's eyes widened, "Exactly."

"The kingdom was willing to provide the militia with enchanted weapons?" Alistair asked in surprise.

"Well I wouldn't exactly say they were willing…" Wavesun replied awkwardly.

Giving Wavesun a hard look, Alistair sighed, "We'll discuss this later, Korin."

Laughing awkwardly, Wavesun looked stoically ahead, feigning interest in one of the ongoing matches as Alistair's piercing gaze bore holes in his back.

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