Chapter 258: v3 - 19: the first duel IV

Chapter 258: v3 Chapter 19: the first duel IV

The announcer returned to the raised platform.

The crowd was still reacting to the previous fight.

Some were shouting.

Others were discussing the outcome among themselves.

The attendants had already cleared the center of the Arena.

Cassian stood with the three remaining newcomers.

320 and 321 were gone.

Only four of them remained now.

Cassian.

325.

326.

327.

Robert stood a short distance away, watching the Arena.

Neither of them spoke.

Across the sand, the four remaining condemned men waited.

Then the announcer raised his hand.

The crowd gradually quieted.

He called the next number.

"Three hundred and nineteen."

Cassian stepped forward.

The roar that followed was louder than the one he had received during the introductions.

Perhaps they had learned his number.

Perhaps they were simply curious about the man who had been waiting through the first two fights.

Cassian didn’t care.

He walked toward the center of the Arena.

Then the announcer called the other number.

"Condemned Number Three."

The lean man stepped forward.

He moved with the same loose ease he had shown since entering the Arena.

Nothing about him suggested urgency.

Nothing suggested fear.

He looked almost bored.

Cassian watched him approach.

The two stopped several paces apart.

An attendant brought out the weapons.

Cassian looked over the rack.

His eyes passed over the swords.

Spears.

Axes.

Then settled on one.

He took a sword.

The weight was familiar.

The balance was slightly different from the weapons he had trained with in the Empire, but he had spent three months adapting to the local style.

He turned the blade once in his hand.

Across from him, condemned number three reached for his weapon.

It wasn’t a sword.

It was a flail.

A short handle.

A length of chain.

And at the end—

a heavy metal ball covered in spikes.

The crowd reacted immediately.

The condemned man smiled.

He swung the weapon once.

The ball circled around him.

The chain rattled.

Cassian’s eyes followed it.

He had seen weapons like it before.

Rarely.

They were difficult to control.

Difficult to predict.

And dangerous even to the person holding them.

The man seemed perfectly comfortable with it.

That concerned Cassian more than the weapon itself.

The attendants stepped away.

The gates closed.

Cassian lowered his sword into position.

Across from him, condemned number three held the flail loosely.

He did not attack.

He simply watched.

His eyes moved over Cassian from head to toe.

The unkempt hair.

The beard.

The scars.

The way he held the sword.

The way he stood.

He was sizing him up.

Cassian recognized it immediately.

The man wasn’t going to rush him.

He was waiting to see what kind of fighter stood before him.

Cassian adjusted his stance.

His weight settled evenly over both feet.

The sword came forward.

He waited.

The condemned man remained still.

The crowd began chanting.

Neither man moved.

Cassian watched the flail.

The chain hung loosely from the man’s hand.

The spiked ball rested against the sand.

He was waiting for Cassian to make the first move.

So Cassian did.

He stepped forward.

His sword cut toward the man’s shoulder.

The condemned man moved.

The flail snapped upward.

Cassian shifted his blade and knocked the weapon aside.

He followed immediately.

One step.

Then another.

The condemned man retreated.

His feet moved quickly across the sand, keeping just outside Cassian’s reach.

Cassian advanced.

The flail swung.

Cassian ducked beneath it.

His sword came around.

The condemned man twisted away, but the blade caught his upper arm.

He hissed.

The crowd erupted.

Cassian didn’t give him time to recover.

He pressed forward.

The man retreated again.

His flail moved in wide circles, trying to keep Cassian away.

Cassian waited for the opening.

When it came, he stepped inside the weapon’s range.

His sword struck the man’s side.

The condemned man staggered.

Cassian followed.

Another strike.

The man barely blocked it.

The impact drove him backward.

Cassian struck again.

The condemned man stumbled.

For the first time, the confidence in his expression disappeared.

Cassian kept coming.

The man tried to circle away.

Cassian cut off the path.

He tried the other direction.

Cassian was already there.

The condemned man backed toward the edge of the fighting ground.

The crowd grew louder.

Cassian raised his sword.

The man swung the flail desperately.

Cassian stepped inside the arc.

His shoulder struck the man’s chest.

The condemned man lost his balance.

He fell hard onto the sand.

The flail slipped from his hand.

Cassian stood over him.

His sword pointed toward the man’s chest.

The condemned man froze.

For a moment, the Arena seemed to hold its breath.

Then the man raised both hands.

"Mercy."

Cassian understood the word.

He had heard it before.

The man swallowed.

"Mercy."

Cassian’s sword lowered slightly.

It wasn’t a decision.

It was instinct.

The fight was over.

His opponent was down.

He had yielded.

Cassian had been trained to recognize that moment long before he had ever entered this Arena.

A defeated man did not need to be killed.

He took one step back.

The condemned man’s eyes changed.

Cassian saw it.

Too late.

The man’s hand shot toward the sand.

He threw a handful directly into Cassian’s face.

Cassian recoiled.

Pain exploded through his eyes.

He staggered backward.

The crowd erupted.

He couldn’t see.

Everything became white.

He blinked desperately.

Nothing.

He heard the scrape of metal across the sand.

The flail.

The man was reaching for it.

Cassian raised his sword blindly.

He heard footsteps.

A sudden rush.

Then the chain rattled.

Cassian swung.

The flail struck his blade.

The impact numbed his hand.

He stumbled.

His eyes burned.

He could barely make out the Arena.

The condemned man was moving again.

He had lied.

He had used mercy as a weapon.

Cassian tightened his grip.

For the first time in the duel, he was fighting without sight.

The crowd screamed.

The flail came again.

Cassian raised his sword.

The weapons collided.

He was driven backward.

Another strike.

Cassian blocked.

Another.

He barely caught it.

His vision remained blurred.

He could no longer rely on his eyes.

So he stopped trying to.

He listened.

The man’s breathing.

His footsteps.

The rattle of the chain.

Cassian steadied himself.

He had been tricked once.

He would not be tricked twice.

--

Tbc