Era of Players: Death God

While Arthur was going to the restaurant together with Stella and Lilith, Arthur was having friendly duel.

The midday sun beat down on the dusty arena, its relentless glare mirrored in the sweat dripping from Arthur's brow. His once pristine armor, now scuffed and dented, bore the marks of a brutal conflict. Across from him, Gareth, a mountain of a man, wheezed heavily, his chest heaving like a bellows.

His massive warhammer, usually an instrument of devastation, lay abandoned in the dirt, testament to the battle's intensity.

Their clash had been a storm of steel and fury. Gareth, a bull charging with brute force, had rained down blows like thunderclaps, each clang of his hammer against Arthur's nimble blade echoing through the arena. Dust swirled in their wake, choking the air with the taste of iron and desperation.

Yet, Arthur danced amidst the storm. His movements were fluid, almost serpentine, as he dodged and parried Gareth's attacks. Years of honing his craft under the tutelage of the finest knights had gifted him an agility that belied his years. Each deflection was a calculated parry, each riposte a precise jab, leaving stinging nicks on Gareth's already bloodied arms.

But Gareth was no mere brute. He countered with cunning traps, feints masked by raw power. His hammer, a pendulum of death, sought to catch Arthur unawares. Twice, the impact landed, the force of the blows sending shockwaves through Arthur's body, threatening to crack his resolve.

Yet, the young knight held his ground, fueled by an unwavering determination, the grit in his eyes reflecting the fire of Camelot itself.

The small crowd, a sea of faces contorted in a mixture of bloodlust and awe, roared with each clash. Their cheers fueled the combatants, urging them to ever greater feats of ferocity. Yet, Arthur paid them no heed, his focus laser-sharp, his mind locked in a deadly ballet with the man before him.

He saw the telltale signs of Gareth's fury, the subtle shift in stance before a particularly brutal swing. In that fleeting moment, Arthur seized his opportunity. His blade, Excalibur, a blur of silver light, met Gareth's hammer head-on. The impact resonated through the arena, a deafening clang that sent shockwaves rippling through both warriors.

Gareth's eyes widened, disbelief warring with fury. The once unstoppable swing was halted, held firm by the sheer force of Arthur's will. With a surge of power that seemed to defy his wiry frame, Arthur twisted, wrenching the hammer from Gareth's grasp. The crowd gasped as the massive weapon sailed through the air, landing with a thud that seemed to shake the very foundation of the arena.

Disarmed, Gareth stood frozen, the roar leaving his throat replaced by a stunned silence. Arthur didn't hesitate. He charged, Excalibur a streak of sunlight aimed at the opening he'd created. But amidst the cheers, a flicker of respect, hesitant yet undeniable, sparked in Gareth's eyes.

Instead of charging back, he lowered his head, accepting defeat. The blade stopped inches from his neck, Excalibur trembling faintly in Arthur's hand. The silence was thicker than the dust settling around them, broken only by the ragged gasps of exertion.

Then, Arthur slowly lowered his weapon, the echo of clashing steel replaced by the ragged gasps of exertion. The crowd, stunned into momentary silence, erupted in cheers that shook the very rafters of the arena. Arthur had won, not through brute force, but through skill, precision, and unwavering resolve.

Gareth, his face a mask of mingled anger and grudging admiration, met Arthur's gaze. He had lost again, he thought he had gotten stronger at least to contain against Arthur and not lost unfortunately he couldn't win. He weaved a sigh and bowed, acknowledging the victor, yet a fire still burned in his eyes, a promise of another day, another challenge. Gareth's bonafide muscle brain.

The fight was over, but its echoes resonated long after the dust settled. It was a battle not just of muscle, but of spirit, etching its mark on the hearts of both Players and the onlookers. It was a testament to courage, skill, and the unwavering spirit of Kaamelot's heir, forever etched in the memory of that sun-drenched arena.

Arthur was tired but happy as he won 3000 credits from this fight, coupled with his current he had around 83000 credits.

°°°°

Two hours later, Noah and Lilith were invited to one of the many private arenas of the academy. She said she wanted to test them. Noah was the first one.

[Ding! Win this mock battle.

Reward: + 2 points to all you stats]

Noah wouldn't say no to this, he readied his white sword.

''Show me your progress boy, I've locked my level to match yours.''

"…"

Stella grabbed hold of the ebony steel blade that lay within reach. She had intended to reply nonchalantly, perhaps even with a touch of humor, but his unwavering dedication to his swordsmanship was evident in his earnest demeanor.

'I'll just go easy and then…'

Swish!

Stella's eyes widened as the distance between them closed instantly. In a fleeting moment, Noah swung his sword.

Bang!

Their swords clashed, emitting a loud noise.

Crack!

Stella deflected the pressing force to the side and stepped back, but Noah followed relentlessly, glaring as if to kill. Responding, hz drew mana from her core.

'I can't go easy on this fella, I may have underestimated him a bit.'

Stella clenched her jaw. She had been cautious, fearing an accidental injury, but it was an arrogant thought. It wasn't respectful to an opponent who was seriously engaging in the spar. And then,

The black iron sword's edge was nicked.

That fearsome sword aura coming from Noah's sword. If she hadn't infused mana at the moment of contact… it might not have broken, but its durability might have been reduced considerably.

Whoosh-

White energy enveloped the black sword. Stella intercepted the descending, attempting sword strokes from all directions. Her vision, judgment, and strength, which didn't require measuring her realm, acted like a huge shield, repelling the onslaught of sword strikes.

She blocked every attack, but not with a casual one-handed form.

'It's getting faster.'

Stella drew a bit more mana from her core. Noah's sword was no longer the recklessly swung weapon of the past. It was as if it was now aimed properly at vital points, regardless of whether the opponent was someone he knew, someone akin to family, someone who had seen him growing. He was desperately trying to kill Stella.

It was because he trusted her. It was okay to do so with her. Though it was called a sparring match, even if Noah swung his sword laden with murderous intent, Stella would impressively block it. Noah had that kind of faith in her.

'What a monster.' Stella couldn't help but have this kind of thought.

Noah felt a sharp sensation. His golden eyes flashed, piercing through every sword path. In his confident gaze, which even seemed relaxed, he read the ability to exploit any gap in the swordplay. The Master of Weapons' skill not only enabled him to use any weapons after a little bit of time, it could also perfect his understanding of each weapon.

Noah grinned widely.

Kwaang—

A white explosion erupted amidst the storm of sword strikes. The air screamed under the force of his fully-powered swing.

Stella was strong. But Noah was also strong enough, considering their ranks were the same at the moment. He could slice through rocks and create craters with just the wind from his sword.

And then,

Stella began to swing her sword.

She realized she couldn't deflect all the sword strikes by just standing still. Her thought process flipped completely. The path she had been following to parry the strikes turned upside down.

And then another revolution. A dark arc cut through the air, finding a gap.

From above to below, like lightning, Noah swung his sword towards the falling blade.

Noah remembered the slow-moving blade.

The white sword was still intact.

'It's about time for a change.'

Noah drew upon more strength.

Kang!

'It's light… light?'

Stella felt something off. Contrary to the heavy sound that had just echoed. The sound now seemed like a faint scream. And it wasn't just the sound that was light.

Stella could no longer swing her sword.

Noah, recognizing this, stopped his own blade.

Stella looked at the black iron sword in her hand.

A cleanly broken sword came into view.

"…Huh."

She lifted her head in disbelief.

"What's this? What just happened ?"

"Can't you see?"

The young man with a sly smile casually replied.

Noah, steadying his ragged breathing, said,

"It is my win! I broke your sword Stella.''

[Ding! Congratulations on your victory in the duel!

You have emerged triumphant, and as a result, all your stats receive a boost of +2.]

Stella let out a heavy breath before smacking Noah's head with the back of her shattered blade.

"Call me Aunt, I've told you countless times. Congratulations, you've won. I never expected you to improve so quickly. You truly are your father's son, a budding monster."

Stella tossed the broken sword aside, feeling a mix of disbelief and defeat. Even though she wasn't a master swordsman, the defeat still stung. Another sigh escaped her lips involuntarily.

Lilith approached the pair, and for a fleeting moment, Stella thought her niece would offer some comfort after her loss. But instead, Lilith walked past the frozen Stella and stood in front of Noah.

"We'll settle this later," Lilith said calmly.

Noah froze in response, his annoyance evident in his voice as he replied, "I decline."

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