The Final Duel (Part 3)

Neve faced Oliver, her eyes locked on the knight's sword. Taking a few deep breaths, Neve fought to regain her composure. This was not the time to be celebrating.

The two opponents circled each other warily. The close call had made Oliver a little more cautious. It had also made Neve hyperconscious of the knight's formidable swordsmanship and athleticism. Even when caught off guard, Oliver was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

It was Oliver who attacked first. In a burst of sudden speed, the knight closed the distance between Neve and himself. His sword was low, held in the Eighth Guard–the Boar's Tusk. It was the position he had used to disarm her the previous duel.

But this time, Neve was ready.

She swung her sword upward to meet Oliver's forceful strike. Neve's arms shook slightly under the immense pressure of Oliver's blade. A few sparks rained down as their swords scraped against each other.

The knight pressed forward, but Neve refused to waver. She tensed her lower body, locking her legs and pushing into the ground. Oliver must have had the same idea, as he mirrored Neve's position.

Suddenly, it became a battle of strength. And this was a battle Neve knew she would not win.

Oliver pushed ahead, forcefully driving Neve back. Her feet slid through the dirt, sending dust into the air. Oliver's body seemed to tower over her, his presence looming. At this distance, Neve could meet his gaze through their visors.

The pressure of his gaze was immense. The knight had every intention to end the duel there and now. Neve had to think quickly.

Her arms would give out if she could not escape their dance of locked swords within the next few moments.

As Neve began to grow desperate, a familiar feeling flooded through her body. It thrummed through her veins, filling her with renewed strength. Neve knew what this feeling was.

Magic.

She glanced down at the hilt of her sword, her vision partially obscured by her visor. But the sight that met her was clear as day. The mana stones of the founder's swords were glowing–a sign they had been activated.

'But I didn't call its name!' Neve thought, panicked. 'Is the sword...sentient? That can't be possible.'

"Stay focused," Oliver grunted. Neve's eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. His brow was furrowed. He had seen the mana stones. "Let's finish the duel first. A knight's honour."

Neve nodded, tightening her grip on the hilt of her sword. She would control her magic, somehow. Oliver's life was on the line.

With a mutual, unspoken understanding, the opponents jumped away from each other.

Neve grit her teeth. If this was a real battle, getting distracted would mean certain death. Even with her unruly magic, she would not allow Oliver to accommodate her further.

She lunged forward with a fresh wave of power and determination. Her sword lifted into the Left Lady's Guard, blade held above her shoulder. Neve swung her sword down towards Oliver's chest, but his own blade was waiting for her expectantly.

This time, Neve let her sword bounce off Oliver's parry. She shifted her body, letting her hips drop low. Her sword was in the Boar's Tusk position, the blade close to the ground. Neve angled the tip towards Oliver's neck. In an instant, she thrust her sword up.

Oliver saw the incoming blade and pivoted his body, spinning out of the way. Neve matched his movements, not letting the knight fully evade her.

The knight was not phased, however. He launched his own attack, aiming for Neve's exposed flank.

If Neve had any advantage, it would be her flexibility. Her slimmer figure allowed her to execute movements that would be hindered by Oliver's muscular limbs.

She rotated her sword, quickly pointing the skyward blade to the ground. Her arms were twisted at a strange angle, but the defense proved to be effective.

Neve parried Oliver's strike, using the momentum of her upper body to create force. She completed the movement, spinning on her heel away from Oliver. Her back was briefly exposed to the knight, but the moment was too brief for him to attack.

Still, Oliver gave her little time to prepare for his next strike. He was already in front of her, sword raised, as she barely caught her balance.

Neve brought her blade into the First Guard–Full Iron Gate–just in time to cross swords with Oliver. Sparks rained down at the force of the impact.

Learning from their previous exchange, Neve knew better to remain locked in position with Oliver.

She quickly retracted her sword and swung again, striking Oliver's sword. She barraged him with a volley of light but rapid strikes, intent on pushing him back. He met Neve's sword steadily, his position never wavering.

Even with the magic moving through her, Neve was growing tired. She had to end the duel soon, on her own terms, or Oliver would soon overpower her.

'I need to try something a little unorthodox,' Neve decided. Nervously, she gulped. 'It's now or never.'

Neve swung her sword back, as if she was going to strike. But instead, she released her left hand and dropped to the ground.

Using her free arm to anchor her body, she swung her legs in front of her. Using the dust-covered ground to her advantage, she launched herself forward, sliding past Oliver with ease. She turned her body as she slid, so she faced Oliver's back.

Once she was an arm's length away from Oliver's body, she dug her heels into the ground and skidded to a stop. Simultaneously, she raised her sword with her right arm and aimed for the knight's neck.

Clang!

Neve's blade ricocheted lightly off Oliver's gorget–the piece of armour protecting his neck.

But just as her sword collided against Oliver's armour, she felt an impact against the left side of her own neck. Her armour reverberated softly, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing in her ears.

As Neve launched herself past Oliver, the knight had managed to pivot himself and position himself to strike.

They had struck each other–at fatal points–at the same time.

"A draw," Oliver concluded breathily, sounding a little surprised. "Congratulations, My Lady."

He lowered his sword, offering Neve his right hand. She took it, allowing the knight to pull her off the ground. The duel was over. In the absence of adrenaline–and her sword's magic–Neve's limbs felt leaden.

Once Neve was upright, they faced each other wordlessly, their shoulders heaving from their laboured breaths. They sheathed their swords, each processing the events of the duel.

Oliver lifted his visor, his expression serious despite his lighthearted words from earlier. "I will pretend I didn't see the mana stones."

Neve nodded. She lifted her own visor, hoping to communicate her gratitude through her gaze.

"For now," Oliver added, falling back easily into his friendly persona. "I have a lot of questions, and I think I deserve some answers."

"I'll explain when I can," Neve replied earnestly. Oliver just smiled in response and clapped her on the back.

"A draw?" Vale demanded, hurrying towards the pair from where he was spectating. "I can't believe it!"

Oliver removed his helmet in a swift, practiced motion. He laughed blithely. "It was to be expected, Vale" the knight smirked. "Anyone would succeed under my excellent tutelage, after all."

"That's only if they can survive your hellish training," Neve muttered.

"Well, it proved effective, didn't it?"

Neve only sighed. She removed her helmet, shaking her head to dislodge the hair that was stuck to her sweaty forehead.

"You look like a dog," Vale remarked, scrunching his nose.

"Try duelling with me, brother," Neve sneered. "You'll be the one running with his tail between his legs."

The sound of Oliver's hearty laugh and Vale's indignant spluttering echoed throughout the training grounds. However, Neve's mind was elsewhere. She gripped the hilt of her sword, jaw clenched. She had more pressing issues than a squabble with her sibling.

What exactly was going on with her magic?