Amazon Apocalypse 4 Rewrites: Chapter 73

The first half of this chapter is an edited version of the old duel between Cyra and Carter. The second half is entirely new.
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“Hello, Cyra.” I waved to her.

The scene must have looked odd to the crowd. Her, battered and bloody, and me clean and looking fresh, now that I was out of my armor.

“How is it you are here? When did you get here?” Cyra asked, suddenly flustered.

I shrugged. “I’ve been since shortly after you sent me away. Now, pick up the sword. I promised you a marriage duel. It was almost impossible to arrange since you ran off on me, but I figured out how to make it work.”

Cyra kneeled and grabbed Doomblade’s massive sword by the hilt. It was longer than she was tall, but Cyra kept herself firmly planted despite the massive hunk of metal she lifted and swung a few times to get a feel for it. The Amazonian bloodline was particularly adept at wielding such enormous weapons, which was why I’d given her my sword.

Besides, it wasn’t like I could wield it when I wasn’t in my Doomblade Armor.

While I had my enchanted rapier on my hip, if I had my way, I wouldn’t cross blades with Cyra at all. I was a spellcaster, and it was time to show everyone what that meant. All the other spellcasters had been knocked out of the tournament, with the fire wizard Jubalin making it the furthest.

Normally, wizards were ill-suited to this sort of duel. But I suspected that was largely because the wizards of the Dragon Lodge didn’t have enough experience casting under pressure. That was something I had in spades.

Cyra refused to attack me at first, so I made use of the time she gave me to build up a swarm of Mana Bolts. Doomseeker took to the air behind me, and I drew on its mana reserves and the new focus I’d added to bring forth as many offensive spells as I could. In less than a minute, dozens of magic orbs spun above my head in a cloud of flickering lights.

Cyra was exhausted, wounded, and nearly naked when I took off my armor. How much longer could she last?

When Cyra realized what was happening, and that she really was going to fight me, it was like she came out of a daze. When that happened, she finally dropped the confused look and rushed at where I stood at one end of the arena.

If Cyra’s strategy was to close with me, mine had to be to keep my distance. I waved my hand to send three Mana Bolts to collide Cyra, before slipping into the Shadow Realm with Shadowrealm Stride to avoid the massive blade that swept through where I’d been standing. Small though each Mana Bolt was, it packed a punch and could do some serious damage once the Corrupting Marks they carried started stacking up.

“You shouldn’t have come here!” Cyra yelled at me after she’d swept my massive sword through where I’d been standing a moments before.

“And why not?” I yelled back from where I’d reappeared at the center of the arena.

I cast Awakening the Inner Beast, Dragonscaled Mage, Dragoneyed Mage, Dragonblooded Mage, and Exploit Weakness for good measure. There was a good distance between us when I threw more Mana Bolts at her, targeting her shoulders like Exploit Weakness indicated I should.

“Because this is my duty! It has nothing to do with you!” Cyra slapped two magical bolts aside with the flat of her blade, but one got through and struck her on the shoulder. With a growl, she stomped towards me at the center.

“I’ve decided that it has everything to do with me, Cyra. I want to be a part of your life. And that means your duties are my duties.” I jumped back through the shadow realm then as she brought my blade down in a massive chop that sent sand flying when she slammed the blade into the sand.

Cyra was still for a moment as the sand settled back down to the ground. Then she hoisted her sword and leveled it at where I’d reappeared fifty feet away. “I promised my clan I’d win.”

I spread my hands wide. “And I promised you I’d win our marriage duel.”

Cyra’s face turned red, and it was not from the exertion of swinging the massive sword around. “You… you… big dummy!” She cursed at me, though it was such a flimsy and half-hearted curse that I barked out a laugh.

“Only if I lose!” I taunted in reply, sending a few more Mana Bolts her way before skipping through the shadow realm to the far side of the arena.

While Cyra stood in the center of the arena, flustered and flabbergasted, I darted around the edge of the space and listened in on what the crowd was saying. For once, it seemed everyone was enjoying the fight—even the usually-hostile announcer.

“I don’t believe it, folks!” the announcer said. “Doomblade really was a magic user all along. And quite the nimble wizard he is. See those eyes of his? That’s the Dragoneyed Mage spell! And the scales on his hands? That’s the Dragonscaled Mage spell! We thought all the wizards from the Dragon Lodge had been knocked out of the tournament, but we thought wrong! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Mucaria, let’s give a cheer for Doomblade!”

At this, the crowd roared. A chant even started up: “Doomblade… Doomblade… Doomblade!”

I shook my head. For weeks I’d been mocked and ridiculed for using magical items, but I use a couple Dragon Lodge spells and suddenly they’re all on my side?

I should have expected as much. Mucaria was the home of the Dragon Lodge. Even Cyra, a Samhain, was just a guest here. Despite being born on a world far from here, in a galaxy far, far away, these people now thought I was a Dragon Lodge wizard, and saw me as one of their own.

As the fighting wore on, Cyra’s previously perfect form started slipping. It might have been the effect of my Sanity Siphon passive ability. Or maybe she was just on the verge of collapse. Her normally perfect lunges and slashes lacked their flawless edge, and I started spotting openings even someone like me could exploit.

The safest play, for me at least, was to keep my distance until I could finish Cyra off with either Blood Sacrifice or by detonating my Corrupting Marks. The problem was that those strategies were too risky with Cyra near utter exhaustion. Either ran the risk of actually killing her. I had hoped she’d surrender by now, but Cyra wouldn’t give up.

If I wanted a complete and total victory beyond any doubt, I would have to take a risk. Cyra wanted to win to meet her family’s expectations, but was she willing to kill me in the process?

That was what had happened to all her previous would-be husbands. They’d sauntered up to her, challenged her to a duel, and had been defeated. And upon their defeat, Cyra had shown no mercy—she finished each of them off in traditional Amazonian fashion, crushing their heads between her thighs.

Was I just one more in a long line of men trying to win her heart through proving my strength?

For the first time in the fight, I drew my sword. The rapier felt light in my hands, but next to the behemoth of a sword Cyra wielded, it looked like a toothpick.

The cheering of the crowd grew louder, and the announcer spoke again. “Doomblade has proven himself an incredibly agile spellcaster! But it suddenly looks like he’s rushing in to cross blades with a master swordswoman? What could he be thinking? Even exhausted and wounded, Cyra Samhain won’t be overcome easily!”

Normally, my advanced enchantments would have made up for the difference in size between our weapons, but the sword Cyra wielded was one I had made and enchanted. I dared not meet Cyra, pitting her blade against mine.

But blade to throat? Sure.

I rushed forward with careless haste. I wanted her to hit me, after all.

Her sword swung straight for my throat, and I left it unprotected. This was a strike that would cut my head clean off—something even the healers wouldn’t be able to fix.

I waited anxiously for the end to approach, but then Cyra flinched. She struggled to alter her own attack when she realized it would be lethal. Her eyes widened, and she shifted the angle of her blade to sweep it over my head.

My heart warmed at the sight. She really cared! All the same, I needed that lethal blow. I leaped into it, waiting until I felt a change. Just before Cyra’s sword struck my neck, Living Paradox triggered.

Once again, I felt like a bystander as the System created a copy of me to overcome Cyra’s attack.

“W-what?” Cyra asked, sensing minute changes in posture and strength as I swapped places with my slightly stronger System doppelganger. The version of me created by Living Paradox seemed no different from regular me, but there was a keen edge to his rapier that mine lacked.

Truthfully, this was a bit of a dirty trick. I wanted to best Cyra in swordsmanship as well as with my magic. Only then would it feel like a full and complete victory. Unfortunately, my current abilities weren’t quite up to the task.

But by using my life-saving skill, I could borrow a bit of sword proficiency from the future. I watched as my copy dueled Cyra, dancing around her blade when she lunged at him, and jumping back just far enough to stay clear of her sweeping blows until he slid to the side while redirecting the force of her swing. He did so flawlessly, pushing her off balance before stabbing her wrist with the tip of his blade, severing the tendon there and forcing her to drop her sword.

The move had been fast and sudden, and it had only taken an instant. But it took Cyra completely off-guard. In the blink of an eye, I’d possessed impossible skill with a blade—a skill greater than any she’d ever seen.

Cyra’s sword flew from her hands as she fell to her knees clutching her wrist. The massive blade soared end over end before slamming tip-first into the sand.

Living Paradox ended, and suddenly I loomed over Cyra, who kneeled before me in the sand. I held my rapier extended with Arcane Blade active and the point less than an inch from Cyra’s throat.

I had defeated her, of that there could be no doubt.

The crowd roared in approval.

“I…” She shuddered. “I submit.”

“And the winner is… Doomblade!” the referee shouted.

***

Trumpets blared, magic starbursts went off, and the crowd cheered. The announcer was even talking me up.

“What a match! Naturally, we should have guessed our own Dragon Lodge had a sleeping dragon hidden among the competitors! We’ve only just learned that, apparently, the competitor we’ve all come to know as Doomblade is a Jade Medallion holder and graduate student! He could have gotten into the tournament through the invitational bracket, but decided to compete in the open bracket for a greater challenge.”

While he spoke, I sheathed my rapier and helped Cyra to her feet.

“Here, eat these. Bridget made them,” I said, handing her a few of Bridget’s biscuits. Cyra wolfed down half a dozen of them and looked much improved mere minutes later.

We only half listened to the announcer. Cyra kept shaking her head, like she was still coming to terms with the fact that I was here, and that I was Doomblade.

“I can’t believe you were Doomblade all along,” Cyra said.

“Better believe it.” I elbowed her in the side. “I won our duel, just like I’d promised you I would.”

“What do you plan on doing with the auxiliary forces you’ve won command of?” Cyra asked. “They are duty bound to aid my brother’s army.”

“Uh…” I scratched the back of my head. “Truthfully, I was focused on only one prize I’d win during this tournament. And she’s standing right beside me.”

Cyra blushed. “S-so you really meant what you said? About that being our marriage duel?”

I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the packed stands. “I think we’ve got enough witnesses for me to press my claim. And if anybody has a problem with it, I’ll kick their ass! Hell, according to Grandma Luthrin, I already had a claim on you after beating Dramonar… now I’ve got two.”

Cyra laughed. “I guess you do.” She let out a long breath, then leaned against me for a moment. “If I had to lose, I’m glad it was to you.”

We had a nice moment, but it came to an end as the other competitors streamed into the arena for the closing ceremony. A set of stands were wheeled out at one end, and one by one, we all climbed to the positions we’d earned. I was at the top of the stand, with Cyra in second place off to my right, and Myrina slightly lower in her Feisty Redhead armor off to my left.

The judges had analyzed Myrina’s fight as Feisty Redhead against Cyra’s semifinal opponent and decided Myrina was more worthy of third place. She was also the first to receive her medal.

“Third place goes to… Feisty Redhead!” the announcer declared.

“Woohoo! Give me my medal! Victory!” Myrina rubbed her hands together in delight as she dipped her head.

The tournament organizer reached up and placed a big bronze metal around her neck, which Myrina then held aloft upon straightening back up. She flicked it with her finger to hear it ring and did a little dance atop her pedestal.

“Congratulations, Feisty Redhead.” I chuckled as I watched Myrina’s celebration dance.

“Feisty Redhead certainly seems to be a handful. She reminds me of Myrina. Wait…” Cyra looked at me, then at Feisty Redhead.

I smirked and gave her a wink, laying one finger aside my nose. Cyra wiped the stunned look off her face when the tournament organizer approached her stand.

“Second place goes to… Cyra Samhain,” the announcer said.

Cyra received her reward with considerably more decorum than her sister. Glancing down at the round hunk of silver with mild interest, I saw a slight frown turn the corner of her lip down. She seemed unsatisfied with her prize, but that frown faded when she glanced over to me. She had won, really… in the end.

The tournament organizer clapped along with everyone else before moving in front of my stand. I leaned forward, dipping my head so he could hand a big gold medal around my neck.

“And in first place… we have Doomblade! Or, as our Mucaria graduate school roster lists him… Carter Smith!”

There was another loud cheer.

I nodded in thanks, showed it off to the crowd, and then spent the next half-hour patiently standing there while the tournament organizer gave a speech about duty, responsibility, and leadership. He was talking about my duty, my responsibility, and my leadership.

I started to get a bad feeling about this whole auxiliary force expedition I was going to be forced to lead. I was hoping there’d be a way to give up the role, but asking for that right after the tournament organizer’s big speech about duty wouldn’t be right.

If only I’d been pitted against Cyra before the finals. Then, I could have foisted winning the tournament onto Myrina. And while I’d still go to keep an eye on her, I wouldn’t be the one stuck in charge like it seemed was now the case.

But those were problems for future Carter. The medal hanging around my neck and the responsibilities that came with it could wait. Right now, I had my real prize standing right next to me. And I wasn’t going to wait any longer to claim her.

I turned to Cyra. “What do you say we ditch the after party and go on a date, my lovely new wife?”

Cyra blushed to the tips of her ears, then nodded.

We stepped off our platforms and I took her hand in mine. Together, we walked towards the exit.

“And do remember, try to remain civil!” the tournament organizer said behind us as he walked off the stage.

Myrina cracked her knuckles and jumped off the low platform before hefting her medal overhead.

“Behold, my medal! I know at least one of you thinks I don’t deserve it. Who’s got the guts to try and take it from me?”

I half turned to see the tournament organizer’s walk to the exit had turned into a sprint, and I realized we should probably do the same.

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