Adama gave the shadow of a smile to the onlookers as he continued:

  “Here’s how this is going to go: Agrippa and I are going to have a fight. 1-on-1, to death or surrender. If Agrippa wins, my associate and I will return the documents. No vengeance will be taken.”

  Octavian raised an eyebrow, skeptical that any such agreement would be honored, but he recognized that this situation needed to be handled delicately:

  “And if you win?”

  “If I win, I’ll give the documents back anyways. After you take your army and waddle on home.”

  That caused some murmurs to ripple through the rest of the army. The rank and file didn’t know what the documents were, but the idea of abandoning the attack over some papers, any papers, seemed unthinkable. Octavian, on the other hand, actually relaxed:

  “So, you’ve been hired by the Elves, huh? Those pointy eared freaks are lucky to have hired someone with your skills. Whatever they’re paying you I’ll triple it. 100 million vals? 200 million vals? Name your price. I’ll even give you stable employment if you wish.”

  To Octavian’s surprise, Tim didn’t even miss a beat at the mention of such vast sums, simply shrugging his shoulders and responding:

  “You have any Maximum Purity 1000 Year Tree Sap?”

  “…No. Why?”

  “Then you don’t have what I need. Don’t bother trying to buy me off.”

  Now Octavian’s anger was returning, but he held his temper and asked:

  “How can I trust that you’ll fulfill your end of the bargain?”

  “I swear on my Falna I’ll fulfill my oath if you fulfill yours. I swear that my associate has made the same oath on their Falna as well.”

  Something in the atmosphere trembled as the oath settled into place. Few would willingly swear a binding oath like this, as the consequences of breaking it would be deadly or crippling. A one-sided oath would be less dangerous, but still not something to make lightly. Octavian himself had no Falna, and thus could not reciprocate. Not that he would anyway. He had every intention of reneging on this deal if the fight didn’t go his way. There was just one more thing to confirm:

  “What is your name, bounty hunter?”

  Now Adama gave him a grin, one that never reached his eyes:

  “My name is Timaias Adama. Now make your decision or stop wasting my time.”

  This time, Tullius Agrippa spoke up, voice booming out antagonistically:

  “You author your own death, swordsman. You cooked up this whole scheme in vain. If you wished for me to kill you so badly, you could have just asked nicely.”

  Adama didn’t respond, instead choosing to watch Octavian as he conferred with one of his nearby councilors. He watched as the commander’s face shifted from curious to puzzled. The councilor was doubtless telling his commander who Adama was. Octavian was likely perplexed as to why a Level 3 would challenge a Level 4 fighter to single combat. When Octavian looked back at Adama, there was a glimmer of disdain in his eyes. To him, this man had schemed thoroughly, only to throw his life away:

  “Very well. You will get your match. May the gods protect you.”

  It was on that sarcastic remark that the two duelists began moving into position. Adama put away the paper and gripped his sword in two hands, squaring up to meet Tullius Agrippa as the large man stepped into the clearing. The soldier was well armored, silver plates gleaming in the early morning light. He towered over Adama, body wide but not overly so. Agrippa was tanned and well-muscled, but not excessively huge, built more like an oak tree than a boulder. He hoisted a long silver halberd, leveling it at Adama and squatting into a fighting stance. One of the commander’s councilor’s, a pinch faced man, hurried over to officiate. Agrippa stared down Adama, but the swordsman only watched that man’s body and weapon. Not once had he met the taller man’s eyes directly, and Agrippa decided to taunt him:

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Too afraid to look me in the eyes? I don’t blame you. Your bluff didn’t pay off little man.”

  Adama ignored the statement, only focusing more deeply on his opponents’ movements. That only aggravated Agrippa further, but he didn’t have time to say anything else before the referee raised his arm. After waiting a moment for Agrippa to gather himself, the councilor brought it down, shouting:

  “Begin!”

  In the vision of the onlookers, Agrippa vanished.

  In a flash of silver and a cloud of dust, the man closed the gap, thrusting forward with the tip of his halberd. Flash Step was one of Agrippa’s active skills, boosting his speed enormously for a single leap. It carried him forward in the blink of an eye, Agrippa fully expecting to end things with his first attack. He was touching the realm of Level 5 against a Level 3, after all.

  Under normal circumstances, he would have been exactly right. Even Adama had no business reacting to an attack at a speed so far beyond his Level. But the Elves had briefed him on Agrippa’s publicly known abilities, and he was prepared. In addition, Adama had been training with someone at Level 5, sharpening his skills to the point that he was approaching his old level of skill. The tip of the halberd grazed Adama’s cheek as it passed, his head tilting to the right to keep from being killed instantly. Adama took the moment to counter, placing a Rippling Sword in the chink of his opponent’s armor.

  Agrippa shifted at the last second to avoid major damage, bringing the haft of his weapon up to clobber the smaller swordsman. Adama was already moving, ducking down and striking at the lightly armored inside of Agrippa’s thigh. A crippling blow would be fatal for the big man, but just as Adama’s sword began to draw blood, his opponent disappeared.

  Agrippa had sensed the danger and Flash Stepped backwards in the nick of time. Adama showed no emotion at the missed opportunity but didn’t try to seize the initiative either. His opponent outclassed him in every physical metric. Agrippa was far more dangerous and skilled than a pair of trolls, no matter how oafish his bluster made him seem. Adama couldn’t afford the risks that extending himself would bring, so he simply chose to hold back and watch his enemy carefully.

  Agrippa, to his credit, stuffed down the frustration of his foiled attacks, looking at Adama with new eyes. This was a serious opponent, and he needed to lock in if he wanted to win. With a sharp intake of breath, Agrippa Stepped toward Adama again. This time, he used his momentum to swing his halberd in a broad sweep. Adama was already ducking, but the sweep was low enough that he wouldn’t make it in time. Then Hearthblade rang out.

  Agrippa barely had the time to register surprise when his halberd was knocked off course. It sailed harmlessly over Adama’s head, and Adama immediately struck back. He sprung out of his crouch like a tiger, planting a kick right in Agrippa’s side. Before the larger man could react, he was sent flying from the force of the blow as pain bloomed in his side. Adama’s E grade Strong Body gave him the strength he needed to do serious damage, and the armor struggled to block blunt attacks, like kicks.

  Agrippa got some air, but he quickly got his feet back on the ground, stumbling as he moved to respond to Adama’s follow up. It came in the form of a barrage of Rippling Swords, each aimed at the armor’s weak spots. Agrippa managed to shatter some of these spells, yet the effort he expended in doing so left him open to the others. They scored read lines in some vulnerable areas, but nothing critical was damaged. Battered and bloody, Agrippa let out a roar. He began chanting, body glowing with grey light, and Adama was immediately on alert. The Elves hadn’t told him about magic:

  “Nihil Arma”

  Contrary to Adama’s expectations, there was no flashy attack when Agrippa finished his chant. Instead, the silver halberd was surrounded by a bluish grey light. Agrippa once again Stepped forward, bringing the weapon down like a hammer on the swordsman. As the streak of grey blasted downward, Hearthblade rang out again.

  And no echoes responded.

  The halberd continued on unmoving. Hearthblade generated its own green slashes, yet the weapon just crashed through them as well. Adama was forced to block the attack directly, raising his sword and bracing himself at the last moment. The webbing in his fingers split from the force, ground shattering under his feet. Adama fought a herculean fight to stay standing. Agrippa’s eyes widened in surprise as he watched both the man and his sword withstand the overhead blow.

  Adama slipped out of the weapon lock, unwilling to continue the contest of strength. Agrippa followed, trying to hold onto the initiative. He let loose a barrage of slashes and stabs, pressing Adama and taking advantage of this temporary weakness. If Adama was in pain, he didn’t show it, deftly blocking and diverting everything that came his way. The swordsman barely even showed exhaustion as he swayed and parried, content to remain on the defensive.

  Agrippa couldn’t muster another devastating attack without another Flash Step. The problem with that was that the skill had a pretty hefty stamina tax, and the larger man was already breathing hard after using it four straight times. If Agrippa couldn’t score a decisive win, then more uses would leave him vulnerable. As for his other abilities, Nihil Arma was anti-magic. It allowed his weapon to nullify any magic Adama sent his way. It didn’t improve his attack power much. It helped him suppress the swordsman’s magic, but it couldn’t help him land a killing blow.

  After a lengthy frenzy of attacks, Agrippa found the swordsman an unyielding foe. Like a reed, he would bend. But he wouldn’t break. Agrippa abruptly stopped his attack, allowing Adama to take a few steps backward. After a few deep breaths, Agrippa pulled out his final trump card.

  He let out another dramatic bellow, louder than ever before. Simultaneously, his skin turned a deep crimson, eyes glowing like hot coals. His breathing became something altogether bestial, ragged gasps taking a vicious, heavy tone. As he was powering up, Adama put more distance between them, a fact that puzzled Agrippa. Had the swordman forgotten what Agrippa could do?

  Agrippa’s second skill was Berserker. It amplified all his stats for a limited period of time, at the expense of his rational faculties. He didn’t suddenly become a total idiot, but his capacity for higher order thinking and strategizing dulled. In addition, once the Berserk state ended, his stamina would be severely drained. The downsides were great, but the benefits were huge. He watched as Adama backed away, knowing that the distance between them could increase 10x. It wouldn’t matter. Agrippa focused on his target, and Flash Stepped.

  Agrippa’s massive body screamed through the air, reaching speeds that should be impossible for a Level 4. When he appeared in front of Adama, he brought the halberd down once again, splitting the air with a high-pitched whistle. This should be impossible to block. Then, something strange happened.

  The moment Agrippa appeared, Adama had made a strange throwing motion right at his face. The swordsman was moving slowly to Agrippa’s heightened senses, and he had the time to be puzzled. What was that? The man had thrown…nothing? He saw a slight distortion in the air, moving right at his face, but didn’t abort his attack. Agrippa mulled over this new development but chose to ignore it.

  Then he felt the pain.