by Nikita Thorn
Extra room had been reserved right at the front for the clan leader and his guest, and the crowd parted to make way for them. The interior of the tournament ground turned out to be open-air, with the roofs only covering the walls on four sides. It was built like an enclosed courtyard, with grass areas around a rectangular field of gravel, perhaps slightly larger than a tennis court. Many of the clan members had sat down around the edges. Beyond the first two rows, people stood to get the best view.
The sight was strangely familiar and filled Seiki with joy and apprehension, both of which surprised him.
The front of the courtyard, the southward end of the building directly behind the main door, was left clear of people, perhaps to serve as an administrative area.
Zengoro walked over to the middle of it and lifted his hand for the crowd to quiet down.
“I’ll repeat what I just said to the time-threes and up. From now on, every one of you is to leave Seiki and his friends alone. I see anything dubious in the combat logs, you’re kicked from the clan, no questions asked. It’s that serious, all right? This thing is just him and Koji settling a personal issue.”
Kojiro was standing in the middle of the pebbled court. He was now wearing full armor, mostly from the Shinshioka set. His Oni Cleaver was in his hand, tilted down to let its edge rest on the ground. His eyes burned with rage as he stared at Seiki.
“And let me warn you, no one intervenes in this fight, so keep your Life Drain to yourself,” said Zengoro. He was looking into the crowd, directly at Rieko’s scowling face.
Hanna walked over to speak to a uniformed man standing nearby, a Bureau of Records Official [Level Unknown], who nodded and went to sit down at a tiny desk that had been set up on the top edge of the field.
Seiki wondered what that meant, until Shuei said, “Live combat log. Someone tries something, we’ll know.”
The Bureau of Records Official, indeed, already had his brush and ink pot out, ready to jot down what happened on the field. Shuei’s explanation was reasonable, but Seiki suddenly understood the real reason Zengoro had forced him to fight without his weapons.
“You’re six levels apart, so a formal duel is out of the question.” Zengoro made no pretense to sound apologetic.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Seiki. All a formal duel did was to automatically stop your health at 1 HP and save you a trip to the nearest revive point. He needed to win. And if he didn’t, dying or not made no difference.
No one gave any more instructions, which meant everything was legal. Kojiro was fuming silently in the center of the courtyard, but he was at least patient enough to wait. If Seiki were to walk in with his sword drawn, no one would probably say anything, but Zengoro had already advertised the conditions, and the crowd had come to see that, and Seiki knew too well how these things worked.
He removed his Hikari and Kohagane dagger, and placed them on the ground beside the official’s writing desk, then turned to face Kojiro.
With the man being Level 23, there was absolutely no significant damage Seiki could do without his weapons. And without a way to threaten to break bones, he only had one option left.
Seiki drew a deep breath and stepped onto the gravel courtyard, mentally blocking out the sea of heaving crowds around him.
Kojiro seemed to have no qualms about going against an unarmed opponent. His eyes shone with menace as he lifted the Oni Cleaver from the ground with both hands, ready to strike.
The ideal situation for Seiki would be for Kojiro to initiate the attack. Once locked in a swing, the unwieldy weight of the Oni Cleaver would make it difficult for the user to control. Kojiro, however, held his stance, perhaps learning from what had happened on the West Plain ledge and exercising caution. Seiki had a feeling the man could be taunted into doing something rash, given his current mental state, but that was not good enough. He needed to win as cleanly as possible.
The Oni Cleaver had an incredible amount of power. The blade’s massive range made it difficult to dodge. But, like in all previous encounters, none of this mattered unless it managed to hit.
The man had a dagger equipped, but it seemed that he rarely used it, and from his double grip on his main weapon, it was most likely he wanted to end the fight with one decisive strike.
Seiki gauged the distance. There was approximately thirty feet between him and Kojiro. The Oni Cleaver’s swing would easily reach a quarter of that if Kojiro had chosen just to swing, or to activate the Swerve Cut, which would speed up the attack. Both of which would be lethal for Seiki even without a full-formed hit. Or, if the man went with a Frontal Slash, the very powerful Level 18 samurai ability, the attack would be even faster, and he would step one foot forward to activate it, adding at least another two feet to the range.
Kojiro was waiting for Seiki to make the first move. It was a smart play, considering how much easier it was to hit a moving target while standing still.
Seiki could wait and test the man’s patience, but that was not the cleanest way to go about it. Whether he could pull it off or not, what was more important right now was to give the audience what they wanted.
Seiki rushed forward, dropping low as he aimed for the man’s left knee.
Kojiro swung, stepping forward with the deadly Frontal Slash in anticipation of Seiki’s increased speed with Slide. The heavy blade slashed through the air, landing perfectly across the move’s trajectory.
Except that Seiki had not activated his Slide. In their last encounter on the West Plains ledge, it was this same move that had decided the battle. Given how furious Kojiro was, Seiki knew well the man had been replaying the exchange over and over in his head. It was unhelpful. Every fight was different and required a fresh eye, but self-preserving instincts were something that had to be actively trained against. Seiki had gone in with the exact same angle of approach to trigger a predictable reaction.
Seiki dashed left as the Oni Cleaver’s premature swing hit the ground less than a foot in front of him. Gravel exploded from the impact. As soon as he had dodged, Seiki slammed his left foot on the ground, affording more momentum to instantly throw himself in the opposite direction back toward the samurai. His arm grabbed the man’s right hand, pushing forward to help with the blade’s follow-through. At the same time, his fingers closed around Kojiro’s thumb to yank it off the hilt of the sword.
The samurai let out a cry. His right hand slipped off the Oni Cleaver. As he instinctively leaned in with the left side of his body to stop the blade from swinging out of control, Seiki slammed his foot onto Kojiro’s right ankle to push it back. The gravel, after all, was loose, and the man’s foot slid back just as the momentum of the swinging blade tipped him forward.
The samurai had a choice now to either land on his face while keeping his sword or let go of it and bring his arm in to break his fall. He chose the latter. The moment Kojiro loosened his grip, Seiki threw his weight on the man. Behind him, the giant blade noisily cleaved through the air, before crashing down some twenty feet away on the scattering gravel.
Out of panic, the man activated both Shout and Brace as he hit the ground. That did not help his situation. Kojiro’s right arm was trapped under his own body, and Seiki slid his arm around the man’s neck to lock him in a chokehold.
Seiki exerted pressure. “Tap out,” he said. He had no clue if blood chokes worked here. Ideally, the man would pass out in a few seconds, and the whole thing would be over. Kojiro, however, continued to struggle violently, with his health showing no decline. Seiki grimaced while he shifted his lock an inch forward.
“Tap out,” he said again. “This isn’t pleasant.”
Kojiro’s face started to grow crimson as he tried to gasp for breath, and he held out for a few more seconds before his left hand finally gave two weak taps on the gravel.
Seiki released him, and the man fell onto the ground, wheezing.
The crowd was deathly silent.
Seiki had first planned to walk away as
soon as it was over, but he suddenly remembered what it felt like to be on the ground, gasping for air in front of three hundred pairs of eyes. He took a deep breath, crouched down on one knee and extended his hand.
Kojiro glanced up at him, seething, his bloodshot eyes brimming with furious tears. The man gritted his teeth, and for a moment it was as if he was about to scream something once he caught his breath.
Seiki held his gaze, and he saw, again, a glimpse of fear in the man’s eyes. It was instantly gone as Kojiro’s expression suddenly turned neutral, and his label faded into a generic one of Rogami Clan Member [Level 23]. The replica of the man leapt to his feet, ran to pick up his sword, before rushing out, pushing his way through the spectators toward the side exit.
“Oh, damn.” A male voice finally chuckled from within the crowd. “He pulled the plug.”
With another deep breath, Seiki stood up and walked off the gravel. All around, the crowd had started buzzing. It had taken less than thirty second, and the audience had only started to process what had occurred.
Seiki picked up his weapons and reequipped them. His palms were sweating, and his heart was racing, but his mind was eerily calm. He had done it. Somehow he felt no joy. It was, indeed, a little unfair. Kojiro never had a chance.
He knew the rush of emotions would hit him at some point, and he wished to be out of the clan territory before that happened.
“Well, that was clean and quick.” Zengoro walked over, seemingly surprised, but not at all displeased. His eyes drifted toward the combat log on the Bureau of Records Official’s desk.
The page was still blank. Kojiro’s own base defense was too high for Seiki to inflict any damage, and since Seiki did not use any of his special abilities, nothing registered.
Lifting his brow at the empty log, Zengoro shifted his gaze back towards Seiki. “All right,” he said with a chuckle. “I hear you loud and clear.”
The Rogami leader turned to his clan members, who had now broken into a cacophony of a thousand separate conversations. “Hope you all get the message. Tell your clan mates who are not here. Got questions, ask Shu or Hanna.” He then waved his hand. “And now get your business ready before we start the Banquet.”
The crowd was in high spirits, and Seiki doubted anyone really heard what the clan leader had to say. The two top-ranking Rogami members were standing quietly by the bamboo doors. Shuei gave Seiki a tiny smile, before turning to wave to the crowd coming their way to use the side exit instead to afford their leader and his guest some privacy. Hanna simply stood observing the situation, her expression thoughtful.
Zengoro exchanged a few words with one of his officers about the arrangements for the Night of the White Dragon, before turning back to Seiki.
The man was smiling. “So it’s true what they say about you.”
It was not difficult to guess what he meant. Seiki supposed anyone with an inkling of knowledge would recognize from the very first fight at Ichikeya that he had had training, and, as his friends had ensured him, a lot of people witnessed that fight. Now, Seiki guessed what had just happened here would cement it as fact.
Ultimately, his gamble had gone as well as he could have hoped, and he could not fault the man’s scheme. Still, he had had no say in choosing the method, and that did bother him.
Even so, there was a part of Seiki that could not deny that it was exhilarating, the rush, the crowd, the amount of focus that reduced the world into a single point. He had proven more things to himself than to the three hundred people who had watched the fight.
“If we’re done here, I’ll see myself out.” Seiki paused as he was turning to leave. “And, next time, if you want to see what my abilities, do ask.”
Zengoro met his eyes, then he chuckled again. “Interesting how no one has managed to snatch you up so far. Let me show you something.”
The man now had both his weapons equipped. He unsheathed his dagger and held it out for Seiki to inspect. It was short, its blade slightly curved and lined with teeth.
Rogami. +92 attack +62 speed. Scalable. Claimed by Zengoro of the Rogami Clan.
“This dropped for me when I was Level 7,” said Zengoro. “At the first chance I could go out of the City, I ran straight to the Wilderness. There was a Level 15 rare wolf god. Of course, it killed me immediately. So, I went back again and again. It took me fourteen tries. And the last time it took me nearly two hours of running, kiting, and jumping around the same ledge over and over until I could kill it. It was worth it. The game rewarded me with this. Not many low-level Sheathed Blades yield a scalable, and at that moment I thought I might as well do something with it.”
Seiki looked at him, not sure where the man was going with it. So the man named his clan after his first Sheathed Blade. His story, provided it was true, might be quite impressive, but the dagger was nothing very special beyond being scalable. Its high stats were simply because it had scaled to the maximum level with the owner.
“The thing is, there was a quest that came with it. It was pairable,” Zengoro continued. “But I never got that lucky again. Only four Sheathed Blades had personally dropped for me since then. So after a while I thought I could just reach max level and directly ask the Shogun for it.”
He drew his sword then. It was a matching blade, but much longer, at least the standard length of a katana. The edge was jagged with sharp teeth. The tip of the blade ended with an upward curve like a wolf’s tail.
The dagger, held next to the sword, now had additional information:
Rogami. +92 attack +32 speed. Effect: applies a bleed effect on the target which slows their movement by 25%. The bleed effect stacks up to 3 times, each stack lasting 1 minute, and causes the target to lose 15% of their maximum health over that amount of time. Scalable. Claimed by Zengoro of the Rogami Clan.
Senrogami. +195 attack +68 speed. Effect: allows the user to track the targets affected by the bleed effect from the paired Rogami dagger within a 350-foot radius. Attacks on the affected target deals double damage and renews the bleed effect. Scalable. Claimed by Zengoro of the Rogami Clan.
Seiki had always thought the unique Ire of Izanagi sword was the best weapon in the game. Now he was not so sure anymore.
He looked at the man. If this was an unspoken statement, Seiki had a decent idea what it said.
Zengoro smiled, his eyes sparkling as he sheathed his weapons. “See you around, Seiki.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“You’re alive!” cried Mairin triumphantly as Seiki stepped back into the crowded kakigouri shop.
“Or at least alive… again,” said Ippei.
“No hiccups in being alive,” Seiki confirmed.
Zengoro’s deal had said nothing against hurling verbal insults or activating Life Drain but ending it before it caused any damage, and Seiki had been on the lookout for a certain obake the whole journey back. The short trip, however, had proven completely uneventful.
His friends were sitting around Kentaro’s Charms table, helping themselves to probably the fourth servings of the iced dessert as they waited for the Night of the White Dragon to start.
Kentaro smiled. “So how did it go? You were there for a while. Some people got decently worried.”
While in Usukumo Mansion, Seiki had managed to completely tune out the notifications and was surprised by how much time had passed. Now there was less than half an hour left until the last event of the Festival, and the shop was a lot busier, as more people started to log in. The atmosphere was full of anticipation and lively chatter, reminding him of a New Year Eve’s crowd.
Seiki looked around for a chair, and Mairin removed Kentaro’s Charms tray from the nearest stool that she had been using to save the seat for him.
“I guess it worked,” Seiki told his friends. “At least they’ll leave us alone now.”
“You don’t look happy,” said Ippei.
Seiki sat down. “Yeah. These clans are… something.”
“Politics?” said Kentaro, just as Ippei said, “Drama.”
Seiki nodded. “Zengoro has a real grip on his clan and he’s... uh… ”
“Sensible?” suggested Mairin.
Seiki drew a deep breath. The man was certainly good at what he did, judging from how his clan mates clamored for his attention. “Well, he’s the kind of person where if he’s a war general in ancient times, all his men would go die for him in battle. And not because he’s fighting for the right cause, but because it would be kinda a cool thing to do.”
His friends stared as Seiki added, “And… if he’s your supervisor, you’ll come in on a holiday to do overtime for him.”
“Did they give you something to drink?” said Ippei seriously.
Mairin’s brows wrinkled, before venturing to say, with caution, “Seiki… of the Rogami Clan.”
Seiki winced. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh my God!” the kitsune squealed in delight. “Don’t tell me he really made you an offer… He did! Oh my God, Seiki.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” Ippei started laughing, a relieved, lighthearted laughter that Seiki had not heard since the thing about invading the Rogami Clan had come up.
Chuckling tiredly, Seiki waved to Mami the kakigouri shop attendant to order himself a yuzu flavored dessert, before recounting the events of the night to his friends. He left out the discovery of the unique whip for now, since it seemed too important to mention in the middle of a crowded public place, although he hinted that he would tell them more later.
He also kept the fight with Kojiro very brief, without too many details on how Zengoro had managed to make it happen.
“And he said it again in front of the whole clan that no one could come after us or they would be kicked out of the clan, so I think we’re good,” Seiki concluded.
Mairin raised her brow. “Oh, so the crazy obake girl did nothing?”
“She didn’t really seem that high up in the clan. I’m not sure she could have done anything. That kinda surprised me, too.”
