Chapter 14 Not a Warrior
Not a Warrior
The construct didn’t charge, didn’t roar. It didn’t twirl its handlebar moustache and scream about vengeance. It just moved—fast.
One second, it was standing still, and the next, it was in front of me, arms already swinging wildly for such a big monstrosity. I yelped and threw myself to the side, barely dodging a fist that cratered the stone floor where I’d been standing.
“Okay,” I gasped. “We are skipping straight to the action. Got it.”
I rolled to my feet and raised my staff, gripping it tighter while suddenly wishing I had chosen a much more dangerous weapon.
My hands were already slick with sweat. The monster turned its head toward me with a slow, mechanical whirr.
It was taking me in, calculating. A very angry spreadsheet with legs.
It moved again—no wasted motion, no flourish, just brutal efficiency. A punch came for my side, but I blocked with the staff, the vibration shooting up both arms like I’d just collided with a steel beam.
I circled, trying to keep it in my sight. The thing didn’t tire. It didn’t hesitate. But it was predictable. Sort of. Swing, hit, reset. Swing, hit, reset. It’d done it twice now.
It swung again. I ducked, jabbing the staff into what I hoped was a knee joint. Sparks flickered, and it didn’t stumble, but it did slow.
Progress?
It lashed out, catching me in the ribs with iron certainty. The breath whooshed from my lungs as I tumbled across the sand, landing in an undignified heap.
I coughed, glaring up at the people in the stands. It wasn’t their fault I’d touched this stupid book, but I could be mad at them all the same.
I pushed myself up, vision swimming. The abomination was already advancing towards me.
“Focus, Alyssa,” I muttered, spinning the staff with more bravado than I possessed.
This time, I met its charge head-on. Kind of.
I slid under a swing, whipping the staff upward into its side, then rolled clear as its foot stomped the ground where I’d just been.
I’d never win against this thing with pure brute strength, but I was quick on my feet, and I had to cling to any advantage I had.
The iron monster whirled with surprising grace for something that looked like a meat grinder and a door hinge had a baby. Its arm came around in a wide arc, and I barely raised my staff in time to block.
Even blocked, the force of the swing threw me backward, skidding along the sand.
“Okay,” I groaned. “We are really doing this. You are trying to kill me, and no one is going to call ‘cut’. No big beefy hero to jump in and save me either. Okay. Think. Think.”
I watched as it lumbered back into position, getting ready to attack me again. That was when I noticed. Its left knee, the one I’d hit earlier. It hesitated when it’d turned. The joint flickered, something sparking deep inside. Damage, most likely, but more importantly, a weak point.
Either way, it was my shot.
I ran at it, dodging one arm, feinting left, then driving my staff straight into the target spot with everything I had.
A horrible grinding sound burst from the metal. Sparks showered the sand. It stumbled; not a lot, but enough. With a twirl, I slammed the staff into the exposed core beneath its rib plates.
The iron monster staggered, eyes flickering. And then, with a dramatic rattle, it raised both arms, as if to smash me with them.
I dove. Not away, but forward.
I slid under its legs, jabbing the staff back into the flickering core, twisting, and with a hard yank, a crack split the air like thunder.
My opponent froze.
One second. Two. Then, it collapsed backward in a heap of metal and dust.
Silence. Then—the bell. I blinked at the sky then sat up, coughing the dust from my lungs.
“I won?” I asked, somewhat stupidly, to no one in particular.
A loud cheer broke out, Carl-One shouting from the sidelines and Carl-Two screaming my name. It took a few seconds for the rest of the crowd to join in, but before long the entire arena was erupting with noise.
A few seconds later and Tarran was by my side, grabbing my arm and helping me up.
“You won!” she said. “I knew you would.”
“Let’s never speak of this again,” I groaned, my body already beginning to ache in all the places.
“Or,” Carl-two said brightly, as they moved to join us. “We can speak of it forever, and have statues erected in your honor.”
“Please don’t ever say erect again.” He frowned, confused but I didn’t elaborate.
The cheers broke suddenly. Not with silence, but with a shifting of boots and murmured revere. Then, a sound split the air: the heavy, deliberate thud of boots on stone.
I turned toward it, and watched as King Damien descended from his throne.
Right. He owed me a key.
He walked slowly, flanked by two guards who might as well have been for decorative purposes, given how his much larger body dwarfed them. His golden hair fluttered, his armor glinting in the rising sun. His expression was unreadable, because of course it was.
The king of muscles had arrived.
He came to a stop in front of me, studying me with those glacier-blue eyes. Then, he reached into a pouch at his belt and produced what I’d just spent the last three days of my life working toward.
It gleamed like polished firelight, shaped to resemble the silhouette of a sword. With a reluctant stare, he held it out.
“For your survival,” he said. “And for your refusal to yield. A challenge is a challenge.”
I took it slowly, carefully, like it might bite. It was heavier than I expected, slightly warm too, like it was more than just metal, blessed with just enough magic to give it life. When I didn’t say anything, he stepped back.
“You are not a warrior,” he stated.
I raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?”
“But you fought like one today. You stood where others have broken. You wore your own armor, and not the ceremonial attire I requested.”
“I like having functioning organs,” I said. “Call me a purist.”
That almost—almost—earned a twitch of his mouth.
“You may keep the key,” he said. “And you have earned the respect of my court.”
“Respect? I don’t need your respect. You tried to kill me with a mechanical murder machine.”
He shrugged as I tucked the key into a pouch at my belt. “We do not forget those who endure. Should you need our help one day, you will not stand alone. There will be a feast in your honor tonight before you set off. Your attendance is mandatory, of course.”
And then, he walked away. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the dramatic exit and failed.
One down, three to go before I could leave this place.
Carl-Two leaned close to my shoulder and whispered, “Do we get breakfast now?”
“Yes,” I said. “And something stronger than water to drink.”
Tarran’s hand settled lightly on my back, a shiver tracing down my spine at the movement. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
The crowd began to disperse, the silence lifting like a spell had broken as we moved.
I, bruised and bloodied, walked out of Valor’s arena with my first key safely secured.