Arnold’s hands were slick with sweat. He gripped the hilt of his sword, keeping the smile plastered on his face as the old woman’s words rang through his head like a ringing gong. Years of training had led to this moment. To the point where he could join the Striking Hermits, a low-ranked combat guild. To where he worked his way through the ranks, training every free moment he had, just to get selected to represent the guild. His teammates were no different. He knew that well. Alyssa had been trained by her father since birth. She knew her way around a dagger like nobody else, and she could read enemy attacks as if they were a book. Gerald was just as skilled in his own way. The large man’s class let him absorb blows like they were nothing. He might not have been the strongest hitter, but Arnold had yet to see anyone ever make Gerald so much as stagger. There was no need for him to hit hard. He just had to soak up attention until Arnold and Alyssa cleaned everything up. At least, that had been their plan going into the tournament. It hadn’t taken long for things to start falling apart. They’d been through a number of practice fights and dungeons, but fighting other people for real? That was different. Things had only gotten worse when the old woman showed up at his door and told him that he was going to die. Arnold would have laughed her off as some other team’s attempt of intimidating them if they were even worth intimidating. But nobody really knew who the Striking Hermits were. The guild wasn’t so bad to be noteworthy, nor were they good enough to draw attention. They may as well have been invisible. Another few faces in a sea of them. No, the woman hadn’t been lying. She’d been completely serious. Arnold could tell that from just a single look into her eyes. Like two black gates leading straight to the afterlife itself, they’d bored into him and refused to be denied. Arnold’s hand tightened even further around the hilt of his sword. His knuckles were white, now. The old woman had told him exactly what would happen… and he’d refused to drop out of the tournament anyway. Maybe it was because of the old woman’s warning, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Maybe it’s the other team’s equipment? Is enchanted with something that I’m subconsciously picking up on? There was no time to tell any more. Kraven clapped his hands together with a resounding bang. “Begin!” the announcer roared. The teams burst into motion. Arnold’s feet pounded against the ground before he’d even consciously realized he was moving. Gerald ran alongside him as they charged toward their opponents. That was their job. He and Gerald would keep the enemy team’s attention while Alyssa looked for an opportunity to take out their Keep reading on NovelHub - where stories come alive! “I’ll deal with the barbarian. You get the knight,” Gerald grunted. Arnold didn’t waste any breath on a response. He split away from his companion, angling for the knight. Magic pooled within him and poured into his sword. Electrical energy crackled down its blade as he lunged, driving it for a gap in the knight’s armor. The other man watched him approach. A moment before the blade was upon him, his own sword flashed into motion. It slammed into Arnold’s blade. His grip tightened on the hilt of the blade, but it was like trying to resist nature itself. Arnold’s sword was torn from his grip. It flew thorugh the air and clattered across the arena, skittering to a stop several feet away. “You don’t belong here,” the knight said, his cold voice muffled by his helm. “Children playing a men’s game.” Arnold spun and sprinted for his sword. He dove for it, hitting the ground in a roll and shooting back to his feet — only to find the knight hadn’t budged from his spot. Embarrassment heated his cheeks. “Everyone in this tournament deserves to be here,” Arnold said as he burst back into a charge. If he couldn’t block the knight’s blows, then he’d just have to dodge them. “No. Some of you are here to make the rest of us look better. It’s a spectacle, and you’re the sacrifice,” the knight said. “We’ll see about that,” Arnold snarled. He lunged for the knight. The other man’s sword flashed up. Energy crackled at Arnold’s feet as lightning infused his body. The world jerked around him. Lightning cracked and snapped. He blurred to the side. The attack sliced past him harmlessly. Arnold brought his blade carving down for the knight’s side, at one of the deepest gouges in the other man’s armor. A sabaton crashed into his chest. The wind exploded from Arnold’s lungs as the world shifted around him. The sky took the place of the walls as his back slammed into the ground with a pained grunt. His sword skittered to the side, knocked from his grip. “Pathetic. I’m honestly offended that you thought this would get you anywhere. You don’t even belong here as a sacrifice,” the man said, grinding his foot against Arnold’s ribcage. “A sacrifice needs to at least put on a good show, but you aren’t suited to doing anything other than clearing out low level dungeons.” Arnold twisted, trying to buck the other man off him. It was like trying to fight back against a mountain. His teeth gritted in desperation. He couldn’t lose . Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Gerald. His skin had hardened to stone, but for once, instead of absorbing attacks like nothing, the large man was retreating. Large chunks of his body had been carved out. The barbarian bore down on him, his twin axes taking bites out of Gerald with every swing. It was a miracle the large man was still standing. He should have tapped out already — the damage to his body was already at the point where it would be near fatal when Gerald’s magic ran out. “See that?” the knight asked, leaning farther onto Arnold’s chest and squeezing a pained hiss from him. “Nothing. The girl is already almost down. Our healer is beating the snot out of her.” “I don’t care,” Arnold snarled. He thrust his hand to the side, just barely managing to grab the hilt of the weapon. With a roar, he brought it up into the knight’s thigh. It rang off harmlessly. “Idiot,” the knight said. He grabbed the sword from Arnold’s hand and flung it to the side. “Your whole team reeks of naive inexperience. All three of you are going to get killed — and you’re so arrogant that you won’t even draw the magical sword at your side. Just surrender. Be done with it.” From the corner of Arnold’s eye, he saw Gerald nearing the edge of the arena. He was losing more and more ground — but he hadn’t fallen. “I’m not done yet,” Arnold hissed. “And neither are they. I won’t give up on them.” “Then perhaps you all need a wake-up call. You can use your life to save theirs. Doesn’t that sound noble? I’d imagine your death will bring them back to the real world.”