Chương 38: A Duel

"A duel?" I asked.

"Is that…allowed?" The Dupe—Brawl, was that his name—nodded eagerly.

"We are allowed to duel each other, brother. It improves our potential ranking. If you win and your rank is lower than your opponent, you will swap ranks." The people around me had gone quiet, and everyone was staring at Brawl. Their gazes shifted between him and I, waiting to see what would happen.

"Can I decline?" Challenging people to duels seemed like the opposite of what I needed to be doing—it certainly didn't seem like the way to make friends.

"You cannot!" Brawl laughed.

"Not unless you would like to be known as a coward! And no one wants to team up with a coward." I guess he had a point there.

"What's your rank, then?" I asked.

"Number three hundred and eleven!"

"Hm?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Is that the lowest rank in our cohort?" Everyone who was watching the fiasco snickered, and there was plenty of whispering. Brawl didn't seem to care. He puffed out his chest and said, "Second lowest! You are currently the lowest. But I have challenged every Dupe here—every Dupe except you!"

"So you've lost every duel."

"Correct!" I rubbed the bridge of my nose. There was something wrong with these people. But if Brawl lost every duel and lived, then at least that meant there wasn't too much risk. And frankly, I didn't have much dignity left to lose.

"Alright, alright. When do we fight?"

"After dinner! Seeing as you have finished your plate, that would be now! You do not want to look—" Before he could finish, a metal mug clinked at the end of the hall. The Drillmaster stood on a raised plinth, and he was tapping the flat of his sword against the edge of his mug.

"Good evening, all."

"We shall wait until the master has finished his speech," Brawl whispered.

"Then we fight."

"You didn't need to add the fighting part," I whispered.

"Yes I did."

"I mean, you could've just not said it. I could've guessed."

"Implications are for slimy cowards."

"I suppose." The Drillmaster stopped clinking his mug. He raised his voice and said, "Excluding tonight, you will have two more days until the entrance examination. I highly suggest checking your equipment and confirming your squad. You will need four members in your team—three Dupes and one healer. You will need to decide on a temporary sergeant. One will not be appointed to you. We have found that the teams who can pick an effective sergeant are the best teams.

If your team succeeds at the exam, and your squad remains pleased with your performance, you will then be officially promoted.

"These are not the same squad compositions you know from Homecamp training. You need to be nimble and precise. If the regular armies are the sword of the Warlord, then we are his sewing needle. Six men will slow you down too much.

"Your test will be of speed, precision, and teamwork. If you cannot complete the objectives we give you in the labyrinth with the equipment we provide, you will be considered unfit for our halls and return to the battalions you came from. Only the top twenty-five most effective teams will be allowed."

"Most effective?" I muttered.

"He has a list of different criteria that he will judge us on," Brawl whispered to me.

"It was an implication. Slimy coward."

"Hey, you challenged me to a duel. No friendly talk."

"I would not challenge an enemy to a duel. I would simply kill him." I opened my mouth, then decided against saying anything else and closed it again.

"If you are not among the top twenty five squads," the Drillmaster continued, "You will return home to your battalions as well, no matter how fit for service you are. The SAP can only afford to train a certain number of squads. However, once you are in, we will do everything in our power to maintain you. Usually, after your two years of training, we have only whittled our numbers down by about three squads' worth of men.

"This is, of course, your reminder to keep working and keep coordinating, to plan and prepare for your examination. That is all for tonight. Enjoy your dinner, train, rest, and I look forward to seeing you all at your examination." You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. After his speech, I glanced over at Brawl.

"Right, then. Let's get this over with."

"It is a pleasure to duel," the large Dupe said.

"We'll see," I said.

"Lead the way. I have no idea where we're going."

"Do not fall behind. You cannot slime your way out of this duel."

"I'm not…slimey," I muttered.

"You like that word, don't you?" But Brawl was already walking away. He strode toward the exit of the hall, and I followed him, jogging to catch up. Each of his steps was worth about one and a half of mine, making it slightly awkward to keep pace with him. As far as I could tell, we had free movement around the castle. After all, we were Dupes. It was pretty easy to tell when someone was a Dupe and when they weren't—and those who weren't, the druids, they all had their leaf sigils to identify themselves.

Of course, with me being new, I was sure to draw some suspicion. Sticking with Brawl was probably a good idea for now. Of course, it prompted a few questions in my mind. I tried my luck with Brawl. Even if he didn't know the answer, he'd probably try to give me something useful.

"So we've got druids here. What about other Path-walkers? Like, where do the sorcerers and wicca train?" We left the inner wall, then followed a path through the castle grounds protected by the outer wall. As we walked, Brawl glanced back at me and said, "That depends. They have their own Orders and monasteries. Sometimes, a thegn will train under a wandering Greencloak until his father dies and he is ready to take over the family holdings." We arrived at a set of sandy pits near the wall.

A striped tarp covered a rack of wooden weapons.

"Does anyone officiate the duels?" Brawl turned on me, a glare in his eyes.

"Do you plan on cheating?"

"N—no. But like, how do they know who won or not?"

"We are expected to keep our word. It is our honour on the line." I sighed. That wasn't the best system, but then again, a few curious souls had come from the mess hall to observe our duel. If one of us cheated, then they would see and report it to the Drillmaster.

"What would even be considered cheating?" I asked.

"No Arts." Brawl turned to the weapons rack and picked up a wooden flail and a shield. That could still cause some damage if I wasn't careful.

"You can try to use resonance Skills, but good luck with wooden weapons." Cautiously, I took up a spear. Something about it made my mind twitch. The lack of a metal head stopped it from actually fulfilling its purpose of piercing, and I already knew my resonance Skill just wouldn't function with it. I gave the spear a whirl to get used to its weight. It felt basically the same as my regular spear—not enough to change how I fought with it.

Brawl backed up to the edge of the arena and pulled off his tunic, then tossed it to the edge. He rolled his shoulders and passed his flail from hand-to-hand in a motion that was awfully cocky for someone who had lost every single duel he'd ever fought.

"On your count, brother," he said. I took my position on the other edge of the sand pit and said, "So, how do I win?"

"Knock me unconscious, make me fall out of the pit, or make me yield." Brawl tightened his grip on his shield.

"And I never yield."

"I'll try to make you fall out of the pit."

"No, brother! Endeavour to win how you see fit, so long as your honour remains intact! And I shall do the same!"

"Alright…" I inhaled, then said, "Three, two, one… begin!" I stayed light on my feet and approached carefully, ready to dart to the side and dodge if I needed. But I didn't know how skilled or physically strong my opponent was, so there was no point in rushing in. I could practically guarantee he had a higher Strength attribute than me, though, just given his size alone. Brawl swung his flail toward me in a wide arc.

The head didn't have any spikes on it, but that didn't mean it couldn't give me a nasty concussion—especially since I didn't have my helmet with me. I leaned back, letting the mace's head swish past my nose, then lunged in, tapping his shield with my spear. He deflected it easily.

"Come on, brother! You can do better than that!"

"Do you like losing?"

"I like seeing my brothers succeed!" We exchanged blows at the start, trying to get a feel for each others' style. Brawl always went for massive, sweeping strokes of his flail, which would make it incredibly easy to win once I could get close to him—and if I could outmaneuver his shield. He reached back and slammed his flail down with a heavy swipe, forcing me to duck away. It hit the sand with enough force to send vibrations up my legs (even if it hadn't hit me directly) and create a cloud of sand.

Circling around him, I asked, "So, forgive me if it's not alright to ask, but why are you so big?"

"The Fleshknitters made a mistake when they were crafting me," he replied. He turned to face me, making another swipe with his flail. It missed.

"They spoke something about my endocrine system malfunctioning, but alas, I am no medic. I am simply an anomaly!" He swung his flail again, but this time, it brushed past my shoulder, catching me with a glancing blow and flinging me off my feet. I tumbled across the pit, but dug my heels in before I fell out of bounds. It was time to end this. Brawl was a heavy-hitter, and he'd certainly practiced with his weapon. But his fighting style wasn't good for one-on-one combat.

I darted in, luring out another heavy overhead strike, then lunged to the side just far enough to avoid getting hit. While he wrenched his flail out of the sand, I had an opportunity. I knocked aside his shield with my own speartip, tapped him on the shoulder, then circled around behind him and wrapped my spear around his neck. He leaned back, gasping. If he'd had someone to protect him and fight alongside him, he would have been a strong front-liner.

But he needed someone more versatile, who could fight up-close and keep fast foes from slipping into his defenses. Since he didn't have any help, he lost every fight and fell to the bottom of the rankings. What were the chances that he hadn't been picked up in a squad yet?

"I haven't yielded yet," Brawl gasped.

"Pull tighter, brother. Choke me out."

"Dude, just surrender. You've lost."

"On my honour, I will not. What does 'dude' mean?" I blew out an exasperated puff with my nostrils, then grimaced and pulled tight until Brawl went limp in front of me.