Jav thought enough of Karza to catch her and land her gently on the ring floor. When he was done and was clearly the only one standing, the bell rang and ended the match.
• • •
The first Block One fight had ended in the initial exchange. Reimon Yantz’s segmented Immortal Broken Sword shattered like glass—beyond the limits of its design—when it met Forbis Vays’s Single Element Ghost Sword. The second match was already underway and resembled Jav’s match in some ways.
Cranden’s pupil, Beilan Sappertine, was a psychic whose discipline manifested itself in a ten to fifteen meter-long translucent tentacle of psychic force emanating from his forehead. During the preliminary match, many couldn’t see the psychic appendage and complained that a pure telekinetic had no place in the competition, but unlike telekinetics, Sappertine was limited in several ways dictated by the semi-solid nature of his power. While a full-time student at Locsard, Sappertine also trained as an F-Gene fighter and wielded his mindsprung weapon, Jav could see, with skill and artistry.
Sappertine’s opponent was Somner Faiks, who was currently Wheeler Barson’s student. Faiks had studied a fighting art known as the Diamond Palm, which, in addition to the hands, hardened the whole body to fantastic levels of resistance. Faiks had been called a genius and upon mastering Diamond Palm sought instruction from Barson in the Nine Order Fist, an internal, meditative art. The resulting Nine Order Diamond Palm was devastating. Faiks didn’t have to avoid Sappertine’s psychic whip and could take his time concentrating power into his hands for his own attacks.
Jav looked away for a moment and the fight came to an abrupt end. What he saw when he returned his attention to the match was Faiks gripping the lightly scintillating tentacle in one hand with his other palm seemingly buried in Sappertine’s chest. His eyes bugging from their sockets, Cranden’s student dropped to the ring floor and the bell sounded.
Jav had turned when he heard the bell from his own Block, signaling the start of the next match. He watched now as the Block Two fighters settled into the ring.
Block 2
Raiber Haas: Mantis Fist
VS
Nanda Oslet: Faerie Rings
Raiber Haas was a wiry little man with bright green eyes and sharp, almost brittle-looking features. He looked even smaller because he nearly always stood half-crouching in a cat stance with both hands, index fingers making down-turned hooks, stretched out before him. He watched and waited patiently as Nanda Oslet pranced about the ring, demonstrating her twin, golden Faerie Rings and revealing a good deal of her mostly exposed body in the process.
In her preliminary matches, both of Oslet’s opponents had come away with bizarre injuries, which no casual observers were able to properly explain. To look at her, one would think her more of a circus performer than a fighter and that suited her just fine. It was, in fact, half of her strategy. The other half was her mysterious and deadly skill with those twin rings.
Having fought at the same ring at the preliminary match, Haas had seen Oslet fight firsthand, but he didn’t look worried now. He knew her secret. He knew what lie in wait at the center of each ring, and he had faith enough in his own skill to deliver him from it. He grew tired of waiting, though, and leapt with the speed, but not the power, one might expect of a man so small. He almost looked like a leaf on the wind, so powerful were his springing legs, and his hooked fingers fell on Oslet like a hailstorm.
Oslet moved her rings expertly and fended off every falling blow. Her rings didn’t stop either. They sought any potential opening in Haas’s defense, but found none. His hooks turned her rings away just as she had countered him before, so that it became very difficult to tell who was attacking and who was defending.
Perhaps unknown to the spectators, Oslet was growing increasingly frustrated and Haas had begun to grin. Sharp observers might have noticed that Oslet’s hands, while controlling her rings, were not actually touching them. This was what Haas had been waiting for, and rather than block her strikes, he evaded them, always stepping or shifting clear as if he and her rings were similarly charged magnets, with a slippery, impenetrable buffer between them. She had tried countless times to trap him with her rings and in her frustration had nearly become obsessively preoccupied with capturing him in her trick.
What Haas had noticed at the preliminary match was that Nanda Oslet was spinning her rings. She was so in control of the trick that when spinning, the rings produced no sound and appeared to be completely motionless—except of course for their gross movements—instead of moving at near mach speed. While the edges of her rings were dangerous, the heart of each ring was an invisible, twisting spiral of untold power. Anything passing through the ring would be wrung like a wet cloth, instantly divested of its moisture, quickly and violently twisted taut until finally snapping. This was the source of the bizarre injuries suffered by Oslet’s opponents. The speed and violence of the rings’ centers left the wounds messy and bloody with little useful evidence of the spiral agent. But today, it didn’t matter; no explanations would be required because no one would suffer from Nanda Oslet’s rings.
While she struggled to set up the conditions for her attack, Haas’s hooked fingers slipped through her nearly abandoned defense and left red blooms upon her cinnamon skin. Before she realized it, she was bleeding from several wounds—holes left by Haas’s piercing index fingers. She was losing too much blood and becoming light-headed. She staggered and dropped one of her rings. Haas gave up on fighting her and just pushed her away from him until she stumbled, collapsed like a drunk, and didn’t rise.
• • •
The next two Block Two fights went quickly. Ulek Alsef’s weapon, a rod of some unidentified metal and said to have weighed as much as a thousand kilograms, was apparently not on par with Lara Bester’s incredibly developed legs. With one critical kick, she bent the rod almost in half around her shin and proceeded to own the match. Jav almost felt sorry for Alsef, but that was overshadowed by his appreciation of Bester’s skill. Jav thought that even after maxing out on the standard gravity trainers, he was still not up to Bester’s level.
Ren Fauer, too, showed no lack of skill. His opponent, Gengrel Waizen, was a psychic along the lines of Beilan Sappertine, only his discipline produced wide spectral blades of varying length from the palms of his hands. Waizen had gotten lucky and caught Ren off guard with a rapidly extending blade, but once Ren knew that such might come, he was able to avoid the shooting blade thereafter. Waizen was good, though, had earned his place at the final competition, and kept Ren very busy for a short time. That was until Ren discovered the inherent flaw in Waizen’s technique.
Using his miraculous mobility, Ren instantly flipped a hundred and eighty degrees out of the way of Waizen’s incoming blade, but it had been close, and to ensure his own safety, Ren had struck the psychic blade in an attempt to push away from it. He did so with the reflexive AI striking power he had developed under Hol’s instruction and inadvertently shattered the blade.
Blood jetted from Waizen’s nose and ears. His eyes stared blankly as he stood unmoving with muscles frozen by the induced seizure until gravity won out and he toppled over, insensate. Ren was shocked at the result and tried to rouse Waizen even as the bell sounded and medical personnel entered the ring.
Jav was just able to catch the end of Gast Froster’s fight at Block One. Froster’s opponent was Edren Rol, whose Fire Wheel Fist looked deadly. Jav had seen in a replay how she started by whipping her hands about her in a circle, and when her hands hit certain points, it was as if she were striking flint. Sparks and dark smoke were produced in increasing amounts until the circle she described with her hands ignited and blazed white-orange. The ring surrounded her diagonally from behind her head to just below her belly, and had become semi-independent of her hands, requiring only occasional stirring. She pressed Froster, but his stoic expression never changed. He kept his distance and used a technique that was very similar to Karza’s wind blade. Froster spun his two s
ickles in an impressive display then brought them together producing a raging tunnel of wind that extinguished Rol’s fire and whisked her bodily from the ring.
Jav thought that maybe he should investigate some Vacuum Drag techniques. They certainly appeared to have value, unless, it suddenly occurred to him, you already happened to be in a vacuum. . .
All of the first round fights were done now, but there was little time for relaxing and Jav soon found himself in the ring once again.
Block 2
Jav Holson: 18 Heavenly Claws
VS
Raiber Haas: Mantis Fist
The two fighters bowed to each other, then immediately began circling each other. This would be the first time at either competition that Jav would cross fists with another unarmed fighter. He thought this was his first real opportunity to show what he could do—it hadn’t occurred to him that fighting unarmed against those with weapons might actually be the more telling test.
The two chose at the same moment to leap at each other—Jav like an Eagle, sure and precise, Haas like a mantis, haphazard on the wind with claws falling in a savage and chaotic fusillade. They met in the air and their hands, arms, and legs struck, rebuffed, tangled, and came away as the two returned to the ring floor, more or less occupying the space the other had before jumping.
Haas barreled forward with a cry, altering his tactics somewhat. His hooked index fingers continued their sweeps, but now his hands worked together and joint locks would follow. His hands were fast, maybe faster than Jav’s, but he didn’t have Jav’s strength, and practitioners of the Eighteen Heavenly Claws were not unschooled in the art of joint locks. Once again their arms tangled. Wrists, elbows, and shoulders bent into painful contortions, then back out, but neither fighter could dominate the other in terms of technique. However, Jav’s superior strength was taking its toll on Haas’s limbs, and the latter extricated himself to revise his strategy a second time.
Jav watched Haas carefully, and for a moment found himself staring at the other man’s green eyes. He thought that Haas had stopped moving, and then he felt his left side rip open. The pain yanked him out of a reverie he hadn’t known he was in. What just happened? Jav clutched at his side and felt warm, wet blood. Besides the cut, three of his ribs had been bruised and were exceptionally tender.
“What’s the matter?” Haas taunted. The index finger of his right hand was coated with blood and sending thick drops to the ring floor.
Responding to Haas’s voice, Jav was compelled to look the man in the eye again, and again Jav thought sure that Haas had stopped, had gone stock-still. Blood spurted from Jav’s left bicep, where a finger hole had dug into the superficial cut left by one of Karza’s attacks.
The pain in his left arm aroused Jav from another inexplicable daze. What was happening? Every time he looked at Haas—wait. . . Not Haas, his eyes.
The left half of Jav’s body throbbed and ached, and he was pretty sure that if what had happened twice already happened once more, he would lose the match. He had to avoid Haas’s eyes and end the match in the next exchange if possible.
Jav stood still while Haas circled him, trying to get his attention through taunts.
“Don’t be ashamed. You did really well up till now.” Haas realized that Jav had guessed his secret, or at least the source of his secret. As long as Jav didn’t look into his eyes, Haas would have no advantage and with no advantage, this fight might go on for a long time. His own frustration came through in his voice. “Come on, Holson. Are you afraid?”
With cold confidence and not even deigning to look in Haas’s direction, Jav said, “Are you?”
Piqued by Jav’s rebuff and his ego challenged, Haas could wait no more. He charged forward with his anger making him slightly careless.
Jav turned and launched forward, powered by both muscle and AI. His right leg cocked back and started forward. It was the same way he had defeated Karza, but to Karza he had been kind. Now he didn’t have the time or the luxury to be so. Jav finished the calculations hurling him towards his opponent and began the new calculations which would make this kick many times more devastating than the one that knocked Karza unconscious. The line of Jav’s shin down to the top of his foot sunk into Haas’s chest, leaving a diagonal imprint from the right shoulder down to the last rib on Haas’s left side.
The shock of impact spread through the man’s torso and sent a spiderwebbing wave of cracks through every bone therein. The kick also sent Haas out of the ring with a streamer of blood from his mouth like a thin rocket trail. He coursed over the heads of spectators and into the midst of those in the last rows of seating where he lay sprawled, unmoving.
The crowd was silent and Jav, too, stared, shocked by the result of his own kick, but the cheers were forthcoming and nearly drowned out the sound of the bell. Jav stepped down from the ring as a first aid crew rushed to him. He was a bit preoccupied, though, apprehensive about Haas. Perhaps he had overdone it. Jav hoped the man would be okay.
His concern was not forgotten, but temporarily overwhelmed. Jav was looking forward to the next fight. Lara Bester and Ren Fauer would be a very interesting match indeed.
Block 2
Lara Bester: Lead Cloud Steps
VS
Ren Fauer: 10,000 Paths
Lara Bester faced Ren with flushed cheeks. Despite the color in her face, though, Bester moved with confidence, wary but not afraid of her opponent. Ren watched Bester’s legs. Her steps fascinated him. The pattern they traced was intricate yet fluid, and power, ample and controlled, was evident even in the ethereal appearance of her movements.
Bester was first to attack, her legs flashing like lightning, but for all her speed and skill, not a single kick landed. She pressed and renewed her attack and began to see firsthand what made Ren Fauer such an impressive fighter. His control over his own body’s position in three-dimensional space was phenomenal—and frustrating. At first, Ren had relied on his own innate, intuitive understanding of movement to avoid Bester’s kicks, but as the kicks came faster and with greater force, he employed AI and her hope of actually hitting him began to fade rapidly. She wouldn’t give up, but the more she exerted, the more elusive Ren seemed to become, and she wasn’t coming away unscathed, either. After each failed kick, she felt exploding pain from somewhere she least expected. She would quickly turn and attack, but find Ren already gone and striking again.
Seeing no alternative, Bester leapt high into the air—thirty meters at least—where she stayed, held her fingers together in some arcane gesture, and spoke the following words, “Bal Kom Nis Kar Ahn.”
Ren was not unable to follow her up in the air, but she grinned when he approached. Her body, especially the lower half, was moving, vibrating in such a way as to paint short brushstrokes of motion in alternating scratch patterns, as if one single space could not completely contain her and she would explode from where she stood pinned to the sky. Her legs were literally blurs now, moving with such speed and power that not even Ren could avoid them. His nose rained down blood and his right arm buckled at the elbow. Bester’s legs almost appeared to be generating power, and the comfort Ren had felt previously during the fight was gone. He had to try harder and harder to get clear of her kicks and he wasn’t always successful. Then the grin she wore broadened. It wasn’t vindictive or sardonic or cruel. It was almost apologetic, Ren thought.
She shouted, “Kii Soh Nis Kar Ahn!” and the force emanating from her legs increased. Her speed, Ren could not fail to notice, also increased and now he was really in trouble. Their fight raged above the ring with neither affected in the least by gravity, but something only slightly less dramatic than panic sparked in Ren’s breast. Though he tuned his AI and moved, her kicks were so fast and heavy that he rarely got away without something getting through. He had to upset the pace of her attacks and eventually devised a strategy. It was something he never could have done before training with Hol, so he thanked her in his heart.
Ren backed away and w
aited for Bester’s attack, concentrating all his will on Bester’s right leg, the one she seemed to favor, and which was coming at him now. He didn’t get out of the way. Rather, he struck as hard and with as much AI as he could just above Bester’s knee as the kick uncoiled. There was a bone-jarring impact and though Ren didn’t think Bester was hurt, she was momentarily stunned and left with a numbed leg. Before her other leg could follow up, Ren wasted no time in pouncing on Bester with the Crush Driver. He struck her from every angle, punching her into his waiting fist or elbow or kick. She looked like a rag doll before too long as they dropped down to the ring together in punishing, stepped degrees determined by the cadence of Ren’s strikes.
The bell rang and Ren stood by Bester until the medical personnel reached her. He stepped down from the ring holding his right elbow and flashed Jav a smile that clearly said we did it!
• • •
The Block Two finalists would be given twenty minutes to receive first aid and to rest before the final round. The Block One fights had in general gone faster and the final round there was just beginning. Jav was happy to see that Gast Froster had made it this far. He was also happy—and a little surprised—to see Raiber Haas back in the Block. His ribs were wrapped tight and he hugged himself against the pain, but he smiled genuinely at Jav and simply seemed intent on watching the competition to its conclusion. In reply to his smile, Jav nodded in admiration and respect.
Block 1
Forbis Vays: Single Element Ghost Sword
VS
Gast Froster: Wind Fission Sickles
With his arm bent and the hilt held close to his chest, Forbis Vays held his long thin blade upright before him. It was almost like a salute, but this was his fighting stance. It looked more symbolic than functional, but obviously Vays could make it function just fine.
The Artifact Competition (Approaching Infinity Book 1) Page 23
