Everyone looking on, both males and females, agreed with their chief’s decision. Until recently she would have said, That’s the way I make decisions, too.
So why am I doubting it now? Where had that doubt come from?
Am I under some kind of magic attack? That couldn’t be. She was fairly confident she wouldn’t lose to any lizardman on the marsh with her magic skills. That pride told her that it wasn’t any mystical art.
Crusch moved her eyes to look at the two males.
Zaryusu and Zenbel.
Next to each other they looked like a child and an adult.
Of course, as a caster, she knew physique wouldn’t decide everything, but seeing this much of a gap between them made her heart shriek, I hate this!
I hate this? I hate the idea of them—no, him—fighting? She reached out within herself to try and understand this peculiar feeling that had come up in her heart. Why am I so against it? Why don’t I want them to fight?
There was one answer. She didn’t even have to think about it.
She smiled faintly, a little awkwardly, and with a bit of a sneer. You just have to admit it, Crusch. You don’t want Zaryusu to fight because you’re scared he could get hurt…or even die. In other words: that.
Participants in these types of fights almost never died. But if they almost never died, that meant that rarely, they did. If things got too heated, someone could easily be killed. I don’t want to lose my husband by making him fight like that, thought the single female.
So in her heart, she’d accepted Zaryusu’s proposal.
No male has ever treated me like that… Not that that means I should be a pushover… What do they call that? “Easy”? Ahh, I feel kinda…happy but sad… Oh, I don’t know!
Having quietly acknowledged her emotions, she went over to Zaryusu, who was warming up, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you need anything else to get ready?”
“Nope. I’m good to go.”
She tapped his shoulder again.
It was a sturdy shoulder.
Right around the age she began to understand the world around her, she had started down the path to becoming a priest. Along the way, she had touched many males’ bodies during prayers, applying medicine, and casting spells. But she had the feeling she’d touched Zaryusu far more than the rest of them put together.
So this is Zaryusu’s body…
He was starting to get excited about the fight, and his muscles were bulging. It felt very masculine to her.
“…Is something wrong?” Apparently he thought it odd that Crusch hadn’t moved her hand.
“Huh?! Uhh, er…priest’s blessing!”
“Aha. The spirits of your ancestors will help me out even though I’m from a different tribe?”
“The spirits of our ancestors aren’t so narrow-minded. Good luck!” She removed her hand from the shoulder of the male she loved, prayed for his victory, and apologized to the spirits of her ancestors for the lie.
Zenbel was similarly prepping, and in his right hand, he gripped a huge spear—a steel halberd of almost ten feet that a normal lizardman wouldn’t have been able to use without both hands.
Then he—casually—swung it.
The sweeping motion displaced enough air that Crusch could feel the wind where she was.
“Can you—? No. Will you be okay?”
“Hmm, I’m planning on it one way or another.”
She’d been planning to ask if he could win, but she stopped herself. Zaryusu was fighting because he knew he had to win.
In that case, he wouldn’t lose. She’d known him only a day, traveled with him for only half of one, but still, she knew: This male was worth falling for.
“Okayyy, are you ready, bearer of Frost Pain… Ahh, Zaryusu.”
“Everything’s fine. I’m ready anytime.” He casually turned from Crusch and advanced into the circle that was to serve as the arena.
“Ahh,” Crusch sighed, unable to help but watch him as he walked away.
The warmth in Zaryusu’s shoulder where Crusch had touched him for so long—although it probably wasn’t really that long—was fading.
The duel he was going into was a simplified version of the type used to decide a chief. Since it was a solo fight, it was against the rules to have a third party cast spells.
When the warmth made his heart buzz, when she didn’t take her hand away, he thought maybe she had cast defensive magic. But there was no way that Crusch, as acting chief of her tribe, didn’t know the rules.
So if it wasn’t magic, then why did it get him this excited?
Is it because I’m a male? Is it that I want to impress a female? Brother once called me a dead tree…but apparently that’s not the case.
Zaryusu entered the circle of lizardmen, took Frost Pain from his hip, and lifted it up. Summoned by his will, a frosty whiteness clung to the blade.
The surrounding lizardmen gasped.
They were survivors of the Sharp Edge tribe who knew Frost Pain’s former owner. And others had seen what Frost Pain could do.
When Zenbel saw Zaryusu invoke the power only a true owner of Frost Pain could, his vicious expression cracked into delight—the delight of a growling animal with its teeth bared.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt too badly,” Zaryusu declared coldly in response to the fierce aura coming off the lizardman before him.
At this provocation, the emotions of the warriors in the crowd surged in a bad direction, but the sharp slap of something striking water and the extraordinarily huge spray that followed immediately calmed them down.
Zenbel had hit the marsh with the tip of his spear. “Oh…? Then don’t let me admit defeat. Listen up, you guys! If I lose, this guy’s your chief! No objections, no arguments, and no whining!”
They couldn’t have accepted it, but none of the warriors argued. If Zaryusu did kill Zenbel, they would probably grit their teeth and obey.
“Okay, now we’re ready. Come at me like you mean to kill me. I’m probably one of the strongest guys you’ve ever fought.”
“You might be right… Got it. And if I die…” He flicked his eyes behind him to Crusch.
“Sure, I’ll get your female home safe.”
“…She’s not mine yet, but okay.”
“Heh, but you’re majorly going for her, right? That plant monster! Is she that worth it?”
“She really is.”
They ignored the lizardman shrinking into a ball and cradling her head behind them.
“I’d like to see. If I win, maybe I’ll strip her for a peek before I send her home.”
Up until a moment ago, Zaryusu had been pumped just for the fight, but now a new energy flowed through him.
“…Well, now I’ve got a really good reason not to lose. I’m not showing Crusch to the likes of you!”
“You’re crazy about her!”
“Yeah, absolutely nuts.”
They ignored the cringing lizardman, shaking her head no, no, as some of the other females tried to talk to her.
“Ha!” Zenbel laughed, tremendously happy. “Then you’d better win! If you lose, it’s all over!”
“Oh, I plan on it.”
Zaryusu and Zenbel glared at each other as if to say they were done chatting.
“Let’s go?”
“Come at me!”
A short exchange, but neither one moved.
When the spectators started to get impatient, Zaryusu was the first one to inch forward. Despite the fact that they were in a wetter part of the marsh, he made no noise.
Zenbel just waited for him, immobile.
The moment Zaryusu got within a certain distance, a roar whooshed by in front of him, and he jumped back. It was Zenbel’s spear. There was no technique—he just swung it around. Still, that was what made him so ferocious.
Zaryusu prepared to charge, and Zenbel held his spear at the ready. He was swinging that huge thing around with just his right arm. With a motion like a whirlwind, he was back
in his stance immediately after.
Zaryusu wondered something. To test it out, he moved back into range—and the power of a violent gale swiped at him. He met the shaft with Frost Pain, and a tremendous shock went through his arm—and his body left the ground.
Zenbel had sent a grown lizardman flying with the strength of just one arm. That arm was truly beyond the realm of common sense.
The air buzzed with excitement.
Witnessing the overwhelming muscular strength of their chief, the warriors roared.
Zaryusu retreated, splish-splash, using his tail to keep balance. Shaking out his numb hand, he narrowed his eyes slightly. What…the heck? He stared, guard up, at the giant in front of him. Seriously, though, what? He’s so…weak.
He was tremendously fast. Zaryusu would get knocked back if he took blows with his sword. But that was it. Zaryusu wasn’t scared. Zenbel was just swinging his spear around like a kid with a stick—no real technique. The problem was whether this was really all. With that arm, he seemed like he would have a more precise way to move.
Is he not fighting seriously to get me to be careless?
Zaryusu sensed that was not the case. He was on guard against the unknown, reconsidering his strategy, when Zenbel, who hadn’t taken a single step, asked him with a grin, “What’s wrong? Can’t get Frost Pain to work?”
That jovial expression was probably meant as provocation. Zaryusu wasn’t going to respond to that.
“I once lost a fight with the guy who used to own Frost Pain.”
Zaryusu remembered. He knew the male Zenbel was talking about: the chief of the now defunct Sharp Edge tribe, someone Zaryusu had killed.
Zaryusu’s focus had been pinpointing Zenbel, but now he expanded it to include their surroundings. In the sea of hostility, the loathing of the Sharp Edge survivors was especially intense.
“These wounds on my left hand are from that fight.” Zenbel waved the hand with two missing fingers as evidence. “Maybe if you use the power he beat me with, you can win!”
“You think so?” Zaryusu replied with absolute cool.
The power was definitely strong. It could be used only three times a day, but it brought victory more often than not. The reason Zaryusu had defeated its previous owner was that he had already used it three times. If Zaryusu had faced the attack back then, he probably would have been killed.
But there was no way a guy who knew Frost Pain’s power would want to be on the receiving end. Zaryusu tensed up. I don’t know… I’m not getting anywhere like this, though. I guess I should charge. Having decided, he leaped at Zenbel at double his previous speed.
And the halberd intercepted him with tremendous force.
Zaryusu didn’t dodge, but took it with Frost Pain. Everyone watching thought he would get knocked back again.
Raised up, Frost Pain clashed with the halberd—and simply parried.
He didn’t even have to use a martial art technique. Zenbel was handling his spear like a child at play. At that level, it was a cinch for Zaryusu to parry any attack, no matter how heavy.
Zenbel’s eyes opened wide in surprise—no, admiration.
That was the moment Zaryusu closed in like a gale-force wind. Zenbel could try to bring his halberd around, but he’d be too slow. Even if he had the strength to completely stop the spear and bring it back, it would take a couple of moments—and that was plenty of time for Zaryusu to get in close.
Frost Pain slashed Zenbel’s flesh…
…And fresh blood flew.
A huge cheer went up, along with the tiny shriek of one female. The one scattering blood and retreating in escape was not Zenbel. The one with two bleeding scrapes on his face was Zaryusu.
Unlike his previous stance, Zenbel came charging after Zaryusu, not about to let him get away. And he attacked with the same thing he’d used to gouge at him a moment before—his claws.
Frost Pain clashed with them, and a hard metallic sound rang out. A beat later, the halberd, no longer in Zenbel’s hand, made a noisy splash.
“Grrrrahhhh!” Exhaling at length, Zenbel attacked once again with his huge arm as he charged.
Compared to the childish way he handled his spear, these strikes with his hand were masterful. Now Zaryusu had all the pieces to understand.
Zenbel wasn’t a warrior—he was a monk who employed a special energy called chi to transform his body into a weapon.
Zaryusu met the hand with Frost Pain.
Lizardman claws were harder and sharper than human nails, but they weren’t so hard that metal would ring when it hit them. Yes, this was a monk ability that hardened teeth and nails: Natural Iron Weapon. It was said that a monk’s fist at the limit of its power could dent adamantite, the hardest metal, but from the feel of Zenbel’s, he hadn’t reached that level—maybe steel at best. Still, Zaryusu couldn’t underestimate those claws if they were evenly matched with Frost Pain, one of the lizardmen’s Four Great Treasures.
They exchanged a few blows.
Zenbel attacked with his hand, and Zaryusu slashed with Frost Pain. They evaded each other’s attacks, then clashed, and a short pause occurred.
“Ha-ha! You’re still alive?!” Zenbel licked the blood and scraps of meat sticking to his fingers.
Likewise, Zaryusu’s tongue, longer than a human’s, came out and licked the red liquid flowing from the scrapes on the part of his face that would be a cheek on a human. He was glad he’d been able to just barely dodge the attack meant to pierce his eyes. He had wounds, but they weren’t deep. He still had plenty of fight left in him.
While Zaryusu thanked the spirits of his ancestors—and I guess Crusch’s might have helped, too—Zenbel complained. “You knowww…if you don’t use that move and I beat you, it’ll feel like you were going easy on me.” He balled up his fists and bumped them together a few times in front of his chest.
“Sorry, but I’m not planning on using it.”
“Hrmm. No saying you weren’t fighting seriously after you lose!”
“Now that you’ve sparred with me, do you really think I’m the type to say something like that?”
“…No, I don’t. Sorry, I didn’t mean that. But if you’re not gonna use it, then I’m comin’ for ya!”
Voom! With a rush of air, he kicked at Zaryusu with one of his thick legs.
Zaryusu acted without hesitation.
He dodged the foot and immediately slashed with Frost Pain, but the sword was repelled with a metallic sound.
His eyes widened in admiration.
If a barehanded attack was blocked with a sword, the attacker would get injured. That was logic. But when a monk used chi, they altered common sense.
This was Iron Skin, a special power that made flesh hard as steel whenever anything came in contact with it by surrounding the body with chi. Like with Natural Iron Weapon, a trained user could fortify himself.
Zenbel repelled the magical sword. That spoke to how much training he’d done as a monk. But Zaryusu was sure of his victory.
There wasn’t such a huge gap in their combat skills—Zenbel had just been at a disadvantage since the beginning.
There was an overwhelming amount of attack types: kicking, tail whipping, punching, clawing…
Each of the physical attacks Zenbel unleashed was fast and heavy. Faced with that, it seemed, sure enough, like Zaryusu had quit attacking and reached his limit just defending.
Chain after chain of hits.
If Zaryusu hadn’t been able to block all the weighty, destructive blows, he would have been done for. The surrounding lizardman onlookers cheered, confident their chief would win with his continuous attacks.
Now and then, Zenbel’s claws grazed Zaryusu’s body, and the flesh that should have been protected by his hard scales was easily broken. Blood beaded and flowed. These were definitely not minor wounds—and he had so many they were impossible to count. Zaryusu’s life was like a candle in the wind; it would be no surprise if he surrendered at any moment. The lizardmen had s
miles on their faces, delighted at their champion’s victory.
But the chief himself felt differently.
Each time one of his strikes was repelled, he felt victory slipping further away, and he couldn’t completely suppress his anxiety.
Frost Pain’s blade was enchanted so that it could deal additional chill damage when it sliced into an opponent. As a secondary effect, it had the power to send some chill damage over to an opponent when weapons clashed. In other words, just his hand and the sword bumping together caused him to be weakened slightly. His hands and feet were numb, and little by little, his movements were slowing down.
Crap. I lost so quickly last time that…I didn’t realize it had this power! It wasn’t just that one move! Makes sense for one of the Four Great Treasures!
It was precisely because Zaryusu understood these effects that he had chosen to fight defensively—or to put it another way, he chose to fight in a way he was certain to deal damage. This was also why he wasn’t evading Zenbel’s attacks.
He had chosen the cautious path to victory. That prudence made him Zenbel’s greatest enemy.
When Zaryusu leaped at him, Zenbel unleashed a special move. From the moment the Green Claw tribesman blocked it, Zenbel’s chances looked pretty low.
He felt he was attacking an impregnable fortress on his own. Ahh, shit. I can’t get him…but still! I was waiting for this time to come! For so long! A male Zenbel had once fought flickered through his mind. He hadn’t been as strong back then. He’d kept training in order to beat him someday. When he heard his adversary had been killed, frustration and regret overcame his heart, but he still didn’t rest.
It was all for this day.
As chief of his tribe, he couldn’t just abandon everything and go off to battle. That was why he hadn’t been able to hide his joy when he heard the owner of Frost Pain had showed up in the village.
It wasn’t right to end a fight he’d anticipated so much this simply.
He punched, he kicked. He gradually lost feeling in his hands and feet, and his chi couldn’t reach. Even then, he didn’t stop.
He’s strong! Even stronger than the one back then!
He figured this male must have ceaselessly trained just like he had.
The Lizardman Heroes Page 8