Last round

Clang!

I struck at the enemy shield, regretfully reaching its metal reinforcement rather than the soft wood. Before my hand could bounce, I pressed forward, using the weight of my body to push the enemy away.

In the short second I bought, I managed to take a quick glance around.

It was a massacre.

We entered this damn tournament with a unit of thirty people. Thirty experienced mercenaries.

Only eleven of us survived all the way until the fifth round, and there were only seven of us left by now.

The cheering of the massive audience made my blood boil in my veins.

And this damn headache…

I shook my head and charged forward.

There were only a few enemies left, but the sooner I disposed of my opponent, the sooner I could go help the few of my allies that survived.

I shook my head again and swung my sword by rolling my wrist to warm the joins up.

My advantage laid in my lighter equipment, consisting solely of the short sword in my hand. On the other hand, the young man facing me held both a simple, round shield but also a long spear.

Pushing my opponent away would normally be a bad move, as it cost me the distance that my enemy could utilize far better.

But this wasn't a duel but a team battle.

The second I bought to take a look around was well worth any advantage that I gave to my opponent.

I squinted my eyes mid-dash toward my opponent.

The distance that I freely gave away now proved to be far harder to reclaim than I expected.

Rather than going for some fancy move, the young man lowered his center of mass and angled his spear up, blocking most of the angles at which I could approach.

"Tsk…" I clicked my tongue, showing a bit of frustration. Then, I pushed my hand in front of me, holding my sword ready to deflect the spear's blade.

I had no time to play around. Not with my headache ramping up. And not when the last few of my companions could die any moment now.

"Die!" I shouted, trying to confuse the enemy right as I went for the sharp blade of his spear.

As expected, the young man relied on the standard moves rather than trying to put some of his personal flavors into the fight. And while it made his moves much more refined than my personal freestyle, it also made him predictable.

"Die!"

With a look of triumph on his face, the young man threw his spear forth, dead set on piercing my chest.

I twisted my wrist, sending the blade of my sword to the back. Then, with a slight sweeping slash, I pushed the spear's tip aside before burying the pommel of my short sword into the young man's guts.

"Kha…" Air and saliva escaped from my opponent's mouth, his eyes widened when my iron squeezed his lungs dry.

Not wasting any time, I used my left elbow to dig right into the neck the young man presented when he bent in half due to my gut strike.

The young man fell to the ground… Only for my blade to open up his throat as he fell down.

In this tournament, there was no room for misplaced mercy. Even if I spared this poor kid now, he still would have to die for the round to end.

'Next,' I thought, instantly turning the wheels of both my mind and body alike to find another opponent.

There was no time to waste. The sooner this round would end…

I clenched my butt before locking on the next opponent and rushing to help one of the survivors.

A series of three short steps later I slashed down at the back of another enemy, paying no attention to empty morals of honor or battle ethics.

It was a damn fight to the death. Only a fool would concern themselves with those.

"Thanks!" my companion threw before turning and rushing to another fight himself.

'Only the strongest remained so far,' I thought, taking a step forward…

Only to fall down on one knee.

The exhaustion of the constant battle was starting to catch up to me.

I shook my head and forced my body back up.

'Just six,' I twitched a little when my allies brought down two more opponents.

The fight was over.

Plagued by my constant headache, I didn't bother to participate in the steamroll that followed.

"Black Eagle company wins the round!"

The voice of the announcer exploded throughout the arena once the last of our opponents bleed his life out into the sands of the arena.

The cheering of the crowd intensified, reaching a new height.

In a few more moments, the climax of the entire tournament would commence. The battle that just concluded was a mere appetizer…

And a showcase of those who were rigged to lose and die.

'All this effort and the result will still be the same,' I thought, taking a breath to gain the strength necessary to fight off my damn headache.

This accursed pain accompanied every waking moment of my life ever since about two years ago. It continued to grow with time and now, in all honesty, I was already reaching my limit.

"Get off the stage, now!" one of the guards shouted while angrily waving me away.

'Right, they need to clean it,' I thought, giving a passing look at all the corpses.

The man responsible for letting the mercenary company fall into the trap of this tournament now laid dead on the field, defeated at the very beginning of the round.

I gathered my strength and forced my body up before struggling to walk off the stage.

A torturous fewteen steps later, I plummeted down on a simple bench, catching every precious breath I could afford.

The cleaning and the ceremony would take about half an hour. After that, we would be all walking back to the stage… to be slaughtered.

All for the sake of glory and merits for some damn noble.

'This damned rank…' I cursed under my breath, careful not to be heard.

This was one heck of a curse to say out loud.

But with a mere fifth rank to my name, I was no stronger than an ant in the face of the ninth-rank noble.

Regardless of the skill, effort, and talent, I was destined to die by that damn noble's hand!

Slowly, my breaths brought some of my strength back.

My body was trained well. I pushed myself to the absolute limits for years, gaining the ability to rapidly restore my strength…

Even if it was absolutely futile.

I would be hard-pressed to match a seventh-rank fighter, and only with a fair dose of luck could I claim victory. But against an opponent of a ninth rank?

'All seven…'

I cast a quick glance at those who returned.

'All six of us will be nothing more but fodder,' I thought, my face darkening.

This wasn't how I pictured my first year away from the legion to be. I was supposed to be working as a damn mercenary, eating through my employer's money while only bothering with small skirmishes.

I threw a quick glance at the emptied-out stadium.

Then I fought the desire to spit down.

'If only that greedy fucker didn't take that damn bait of an offer!'

I clenched my fists and took yet another deep breath.

Cursing would change nothing.

The air filled with the ringing of the bells. My break was nearing the end.

I held the air in my lungs for a while. I then stood up…

Only to waver and lean forward, throwing my hands to find some support in my knees.

'FUCK!'

My head exploded with an attack of migraine stronger than anything I'd experienced before. My very consciousness started to shake in its foundations, bringing me to the threshold of fainting from pain.

'Shit! Not now!'

Regardless of how dead I was, how there was absolutely no chance to get out of what was coming alive…

I couldn't give up.

I couldn't give up on the years I sacrificed doing nothing but training. On all the hopes I had for a cushy future.

'My grave won't become someone's stepping stone!'

A furious fire of determination exploded in my soul. And strangely enough, it fought off the excruciating pain in my head.

Somewhat healed up, I walked out back onto the sand to the cheering of the mass crowd gathered to watch the spectacle.

The noble was already there.

He stood in the middle of the arena, all alone, in a set of elegant clothes.

'I bet there is a feast waiting for when he slaughters us all,' I thought grimly.

This fight was nothing more but a farce, a merciless slaughter to the amusement of the crowds and the merits of that damn noble.

A sad fate of those swallowed by the corrupted wheels of the empire.

All of the survivors walked out onto the stage and gathered up in a small, concise unit.

"How are you holding up?" the youngest of the few alive asked in a slightly trembling voice.

"I will manage," I barked back.

This was the end of the road for everyone. In theory, there was no use being mean to the guy who clearly couldn't accept his fate.

But I still refused to accept this oppressive result!

I tightened my fingers on the handle of my sword.

"Begin!"

The announcer's shout filled the air again.

But no one moved an inch.

The noble only sighed.

There was no sick amusement in his eyes. It was quite the opposite in fact. When he looked back at what was left of my company… there was a hint of pity in his look.

I tensed my entire body up, ready to act up at a moment's notice.

The noble sighed again. He then raised his eyes and locked them on the guy to my right.

"You've fought well, men. Allow me to put an end to this distasteful farce," the noble spoke in a disgusted tone. He then leaned forward…

SWISH!

In a mere instant, two of my surviving compatriots fell down to the ground, each with a gaping hole in the middle of their chests.

From the expressions of slight shock frozen on their faces, they died before they could even realize what was going on.

This damn noble at least had enough mercy to end this spectacle without any needless torture.

Everyone, from the crowd in the seats through the mercenaries and at the noble ending, knew the outcome before the fight even started.

Flash!

The noble disappeared from my view, only for a powerful strike to squash my chest, compressing and then forcing out all the air from my lungs.

My headache exploded, suddenly freed from the flames of determination that this gut strike extinguished in an instant.

'Such is life,' I thought, keeling over as I coiled my arms around my stomach.

"Shit! I'm sorry, I… I really didn't mean to!" the noble suddenly screamed out.

Strangely enough, the torture of my headaches conditioned me to handle a lot more pain than a usual person. And when hearing those strange words, my uncanny endurance allowed me to… slightly raise my chin to look up.

Two more were dead, leaving only me… and surprisingly the youngest of the survivors alive. And to my surprise, the youngest actually was still standing!

Sadly, the yellow liquid trickling down his inner thigh quickly ruined the impressive image that the kid got.

"I will finish you…" a bit higher up, the noble was looking at me with a genuinely concerned and guilty expression.

Everything suddenly came to a sudden stop.

The torture of my headache suddenly intensified… only for my fever to become so powerful, it started to bend the laws of the world itself.

First, the time ceased to operate. Then, all the shapes started to melt down like in some abstract animation. Everything started to turn into discolored blobs of some strange mass.

Soon, everything came to a complete stop. Then, the colors bleached out and vanished. And in the grey world that replaced everything that I could sense…

Something in my head finally clicked.

As if scratching the part that was itching for years, the process that caused my headache as a side effect completed its task.

And like a mental bullet, my mind filled with strangely familiar images, sounds, meanings…

'What the…'

Before I could construct a single thought, the colors started to return to the blobs. The blobs started to deform in reverse, slowly bringing the reality to how it was supposed to be.

'Is this the world they created?' I thought in a momentary shock.

My mind was swirling with thoughts.

'Did they kill me?'

'What the hell is going on?'

'What are those memories? Who the fuck are you?'

'Wait, aren't I in trouble?'

'Shit, everything feels soo… familiar! Way better than in any other dive I tested!'

'…'

I only had the strange dysfunction of time to thank for giving me some leeway to gather my thoughts.

It felt strange to have two different personalities merge in me… But I could bear with it.

After all, the identity of the legion's mercenary was a mere creation of the AI, a backstory of the host that housed my soul in this world.

'Those bastards really killed me…' I thought, gritting my teeth as mindless fury erased every other thought from my mind.

Then, my eyes moved up, drawn to the still picture of the noble dropping his knee down on my face.

'I didn't even notice this fucker before,' I thought, my body twitching as I settled into the new physique.

And to my surprise, the level at which I could adopt the skills of my host… Was astonishing.

'I guess that's the deeper dive for you,' I thought, quickly figuring out the reason behind this greater synchronization.

'It was one hell of a pain to get here, but it looks like it was all worth it,' I thought, barely stopping a smile from adorning my face.

An entire arsenal of abilities and moves that I'd gained in all the dives before was now at my disposal. As such, the fight with this damn noble was going to be a breeze!

The world was quickly starting to return to how it should be. And as all the blobs turned back into the shapes they originated from, I could sense the time already picking itself up.

'I should start with some defenses,' I rationalized, pushing my fingers into a specific sign and invoking a mental image of my trusty 'barrier' spell.

The time picked up.

My smile finally appeared on my face as I stared at the noble with a small sense of pity and compassion.

Some sort of energy suddenly surged through my body, right towards the sign I made with my fingers…

The noble's hit connected with my face, dislocating my jaw, breaking at least five of my teeth, and sending me flying a few meters to the back.

An instant wave of pain assaulted my body while my spine whined, barely holding itself together after the powerful attack.

My body dug into the soft sand of the arena.

The cheering of the crowd exploded.