When Last Night Didn't End

5.3

WIthout waiting for her to recover, I hooked the scythe behind her neck and let the spiked ball dangle in the air between me and her face. "Yield," I let the spiked ball swing gently through the chain it's attached to. "Or this will fly to your face. Would it hurt?"

The woman didn't bother hiding the fear dancing in her eyes. "I yield," she said. When I didn't move, she turned up her voice. "I yield!"

I pushed off her, summoning my sword back into the light. Arzo had managed to back the adventurer to a wall, but was now weaponless. Heather and Revery had teamed up to deal with the enemy team's leader—a spiria with way too many rings on her hands and necklaces bouncing against her chest. Even without a weapon, she was able to keep up with Heather's frontal blows and Revery's sneaky creature summonings.

Trink seemed to have found his footing and was trading blows with the second-in-command like the true and honorable swordsman he was. They appeared to have been chatting as well. Huh.

The one who needed the most help right now was Arzo. He needed to do his job as a mage, but he couldn't do that if he ended up with a broken jaw. I took a deep breath and laid a hand on the flat edge of my sword. It's time for another makeover. "Refine," I chanted.

Light danced from my fingertips before wrapping my blade from guard to tip. My MP suffered the brunt and I didn't need to look into my menu screen to know that much. Just the heaviness and tightness coiling in my limbs and head should be enough of a signal. I needed to finish this quickly, with this sword that wouldn't break and wouldn't ever dull.

The buff guy, despite having his back turned to me, threw Arzo aside in order to cross his arms to meet my blow. My sword slammed into bare skin but it was like hitting rock. What the—

He swung his arms open, driving me backwards just with the force of the wind he generated. Oh, one of those types. This was going to be tough.

"Arz, a little boost?" I called, leaping back as the man's closed fist slammed into the rocky floor where I had just been. When the dust cleared, distinct cracks webbed from the crevice formed by his attack. Dear God.

"On it!" came Arzo's breathy and frantic answer. His mutterings faded in my head as I rolled, slashed, and dodged against the man's relentless attacks. He's using my own principles against me. I didn't appreciate it.

"Sel, on your left!" Heather called. A shadow zipped towards me as the jewelry woman flashed into my periphery. I jumped back, just as the man's swinging fist connected to my gut. Pain exploded in my chest as the air was knocked out of my lungs and a strange force enveloped my body. Time slowed, only to speed up as it dragged me backwards.

I was flying, with my hands not in the controls.

Rock and perhaps some bones in my spine cracked as I slammed against the arena's wall. Up above, the audience gasped and began scampering up the higher tiers should the lower benches caved in and rained on me.

I coughed, something wet and thick coming out of my mouth. It wasn't saliva—that much I was sure of. I summoned my screen and scrolled through the list of skills. "Heal," I whispered, exerting a bit of what's left of my MP to at least allow me to walk and swing my sword to defend myself.

Slowly, as my bones and flesh fixed themselves, I edged out of the person-sized hole I punched through the wall. My gut swirled along with my head, my vision pocked with dark spots and blobs of color. Voices and a static noise rang in my ears, followed by the uncomfortable pike from up my nose and into my brain.

"Seline! Stop. Yield!" Heather's panicked voice was the first to register. I found three of them weaving in and out of the buff dude's space, looking like flies against his towering height. Revery's beasts—the bird and the vicious fox—dived and clawed at the man's eyes and feet. Nothing seemed to work. Trink was still stuck with the second-in-command.