I thought about what Sylra had told me and realized this whole situation felt like some isekai reincarnation nonsense. Ever since I’d woken up in this world, I’d done my best to keep my head down and live a decent life. Now, suddenly, I was involved in some royal grudge just because I’d refused to lose a fair fight. If I won against Evarion’s retainer, it’d probably just make things worse. But if I threw the fight, that might not end the feud either.
It felt like a no-win scenario, and I couldn’t shake the uneasy knot in my stomach. No matter what happened, Evarion was going to keep coming for me—either out of pride or spite. The idea of letting someone beat me just to avoid more trouble didn’t sit right, but neither did antagonizing a furious prince further. I sighed, trying to sort my thoughts.
In the end, I decided I’d just do my best. My hammer might have broken his sword, but I hadn’t done anything wrong by fighting to win. Let Evarion and his father fume all they wanted; I wouldn’t change who I was just because they couldn’t handle losing. Still, a part of me couldn’t help wondering if this little drama was only the beginning of something bigger. One way or another, I’d find out soon enough when I faced his retainer in the arena.
My name was called, and another name I didn’t recognize. I really needed to start paying closer attention. My opponent turned out to be a boy about my height—lean and wiry—but from the way he carried himself, he seemed confident. He had a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Figured it’d be a good match.
Today, I decided to switch it up: two hammers. One in each hand. Probably overkill, but it made me feel a bit more prepared for a shield.
We stepped out into the arena, and the crowd’s cheers crashed over us like a tidal wave. I took a moment to suck in a deep breath. That’s when the guy started jawing off, loud enough for me and half the audience to hear.
“I am Jornis Oakshield,” he shouted, banging his shield for emphasis. “Retainer of Prince Evarion, heir to the Silvercrest Kingdom! You humiliated him, you broke his blade, and you made a mockery of his honor. Now, you face me. I’ll crush your bones into dust for what you did. When we’re through, no dwarf will ever dare cross the prince again!”
He paused to glare at me, lips curling into a sneer. “I hope you’ve made your peace, hammer boy, because I plan to make this quick.”
Nice speech. The crowd ate it up, cheering and booing in equal measure—some for him, some for me. I clenched my jaw. I might’ve been short, but I wasn’t about to let this guy walk all over me.
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A referee stepped up, waiting for the noise to settle, and signaled for us to get ready. I lifted my two hammers, one in each hand, feeling their weight. Jornis spat on the ground and raised his shield, clearly itching for the fight to start.
So much for a polite exchange of words. Guess I’d just have to let my hammers do the talking.
“You know what time it is?” I asked, raising my voice over the roar of the crowd. I smacked my two hammers together, sending sparks flying. “It’s hammer time.”
I sprinted forward, leading with my heavier hammer. The clash of steel against steel sent a ferocious bang rippling through the arena, accompanied by a cascade of sparks. Jornis brought up his shield, and the next few moments were a blurred whirlwind of strikes and counterstrikes:
I swung my first hammer at his ribs—he blocked with his shield, but the impact rattled us both. Jornis retaliated with a swift slash from his sword; I twisted aside, bringing my second hammer down to parry at an awkward angle, sparks dancing in the air. He slammed his shield toward my face, and I ducked, lashing out at his legs. He hopped back, sword flashing in a diagonal cut aimed at my shoulder. I crossed my hammers to intercept, the force of the blow jarring my wrists. For a split second, neither of us yielded an inch, our weapons grinding in a shower of bright embers.
Then we broke apart, both of us breathing hard. Jornis seized the moment to hurl another barrage of taunts my way. “You think you can best the prince’s chosen retainer with a couple of puny hammers?” he spat. “I’ll crush you like the scuttling little worm you are!”
“You kiss your momma with that mouth?” I called back. That only seemed to inflame Jornis further, and he rushed at me again with a wild swing.
He slammed his shield into my left hammer, forcing me to stagger back. I retaliated with a hard strike toward his ribs, but he twisted away at the last moment, using his sword to bat aside my right hammer. Sparks flew where our weapons clashed, and I tried to press in with a second blow—only for Jornis to catch it on his shield. The clang echoed through the arena, the force reverberating all the way up my arms.
He shoved me off-balance, swinging his sword in a tight arc aimed at my shoulder. I managed to deflect most of it with my second hammer, but the sudden jolt caused me to lose my footing. Before I could recover, Jornis brought his blade around in a swift follow-up strike that smacked me right across the side of the head.
A ringing sensation filled my ears, and I barely felt the sharp pain before I saw the flicker of blue light around me. The protective shield from my medallion shimmered and—crack—broke apart, signaling the match’s end. Technically, the fight was over. But Jornis, face twisted with anger, lunged forward for one more blow.
I saw it coming, but my head was still spinning from his strike. Fortunately, the referee moved in lightning-fast, blocking Jornis’s sword with his own staff. He pushed the enraged retainer back, shouting for him to stand down.
I shook off the disorientation, still reeling from the impact. The referee waved for the healers as the crowd’s roar thundered in my ears. I’d lost the fight fair and square, but Jornis’s attempt to land that extra strike told me all I needed to know: Evarion’s retainer wasn’t going to be satisfied with just a victory.