The roar of displaced air echoed as a mass of iron hurtled toward Lowell at a terrifying speed. He sidestepped the blow, dodging it with the bare minimum of movement.
His opponent, Zephyr, wore metal-reinforced leather armor. However, for a man of Lowell’s caliber, delivering a strike to the exposed gaps was child's play. He unleashed a powerful thrust, his blade whistling toward Zephyr's midsection.
Zephyr, however, was intimately familiar with Lowell’s prowess. The moment he anticipated the hit, he activated his Hard Body skill. As the name suggested, the technique temporarily fortified the user's frame to bolster their defense. While it robbed the user of their agility, making timing crucial, it was an invaluable asset in the hands of a master. Zephyr timed the activation for the exact heartbeat the blow landed, repelling the strike before immediately deactivating the skill to transition back into an offensive stance. Lowell, who had intended to follow up, was forced to retreat and reset the distance.
“Outrageous as always,” Lowell remarked.
“Look who’s talking. If you’d actually drawn that sword, it might have been over for me just now.”
Lowell had called Zephyr’s skill-switching speed “outrageous,” but Zephyr himself had realized his disadvantage during that brief exchange. After all, he had seen Lowell carve a Chrome Beetle into pieces. It wasn't hard to imagine that if Lowell unsheathed his blade and got serious, Zephyr's defenses wouldn't stand a chance.
Lowell gave a dry chuckle at Zephyr’s disgruntled expression. “Well, considering your choice of weapon, you knew this was coming, didn't you?”
“Suppose I did.”
Zephyr’s scowl flipped into a grin. He gave a sharp nod and simply let go of his weapon.
Just as Lowell had pointed out, he had known from the beginning that the match wouldn’t be much of a contest as things stood. A greatsword was effective against massive monsters, but it was hardly suited for one-on-one combat against humans. Its devastating power was a clear advantage, but the weapon was unwieldy and left the wielder vulnerable once an opponent slipped inside its reach. Furthermore, its sheer force was overkill against a human; with enough strength to swing a greatsword, one could easily kill a man with their bare hands.
“I really wanted you to join my party, Lowell—ha!”
Even as he spoke, Zephyr lunged. Now that he had discarded his heavy weapon, his movements were significantly faster. Even so, the weight behind his gauntlet-covered fist remained a lethal threat.
“If I hadn’t met Tort, that might have actually happened,” Lowell replied.
Accepting the blow would likely lead to being grappled, putting him at a severe disadvantage. Lowell dodged to the right, then swung his sheathed sword down toward Zephyr’s overextended arm. A sharp metallic ring filled the air as Zephyr reflexively pulled his arm back, catching the strike on his gauntlet.
“You seem to think quite highly of this Tort kid.”
“I do. He’s my benefactor, certainly, but even without that, he’s a fascinating person.”
Realizing he couldn't crack the gauntlet's defense with raw force, Lowell imbued his sword with lightning. Pale blue bolts began to crawl across the surface of the sheath. Even if the physical strike was parried, the lightning would not be. He was going for guaranteed damage.
Zephyr was forced to shift entirely to evasion, yet he remained vigilant, searching for an opening. If he could slip past the lightning and get inside Lowell’s guard, victory was within reach. Lowell was faster, but in a contest of pure strength, Zephyr held the overwhelming advantage. If he could just grab him and force him to the ground, the win was his. He watched for his moment, prepared to take a hit or two if it meant securing a clinch.
Lowell was well aware of the danger. To avoid leaving a fatal opening, his attacks became increasingly cautious. Consequently, neither of them could land a decisive blow.
It was a fierce, high-stakes exchange where a single slip-up meant defeat, yet both men were smiling. These weren't friendly smiles, but the belligerent, competitive grins of two warriors seeking to subjugate the other. To them, this exchange of violence was a form of communication—an atmosphere of genuine enjoyment that seemed entirely at odds with the blows being traded.
“Tort really is something else. Even without his golems, he’s going toe-to-toe with Marl. She’s a handful, but he’s holding his own...”
As a gap opened between them, Zephyr stole a glance toward Tort’s side of the arena. It was a momentary lapse in concentration, but Lowell didn't take advantage of it.
“Marl, hm? She’s certainly better suited for anti-personnel combat than you are, given her agility.”
“She is. I thought seeing her fight Tort might distract you at least a little, but...”
Zephyr’s plan to shake Lowell’s focus had clearly failed; Lowell had placed his full trust in Tort to handle Marl.
“You’re still underestimating Tort,” Lowell said. “His growth has been nothing short of remarkable. If you’re careless, he’ll leave you in the dust before you know it. He’s a wonderful stimulus.”
“A stimulus, huh? Then what about you? How much have you grown?”
“Hmph. If you’re so curious, I’ll show you. Let’s end this, shall we?”
“Now you’re talking!”
Both men dropped back into their combat stances. Zephyr held his fists out in front, while Lowell took a stance that hid his sword behind his back. The two began to slowly close the gap—
“Whoa! What the—?!”
Zephyr suddenly let out a startled cry. Before he knew it, vines had snaked up and entangled his body. They were sprouting from the tip of the sword Lowell had been concealing. Instead of imbuing the blade with lightning, Lowell had channeled the tree attribute to extend stealthy, grasping vines.
“Tort’s greatest strength is his unpredictability,” Lowell explained. “I decided to take a leaf out of his book.”
“Dammit... I can’t... break them!”
The vines tightened their grip, robbing Zephyr of his freedom. No matter how much he thrashed, the restraints held firm. Finally, Zephyr groaned in defeat.
“Fine! I surrender!”
“Much appreciated. It saves me the trouble of having to pummel you into unconsciousness.”
“You’ve got a big mouth. Good grief... I never expected you to use underhanded tricks. That’s a different kind of growth than I had in mind...”