Amazon Apocalypse 4 [Deleted Chapter]: Chapter 71

I was pleasantly surprised to not be woken up in the middle of the night by a Samhain Clan ambush. I’d half expected it, but I’d been careful to remain well hidden after a few close calls, and my civilian identity was still fairly secret. Either that, or the Samhain family was more noble than I expected and placed full trust in Cyra to win the tournament.

“Today’s the day! Today’s the day! Come on, Carter, get up!” Myrina woke me by sitting on top of me and bouncing up and down. I supposed this could be considered a morning ambush, but not one I could blame the Samhain Clan for.

“I’m up, I’m up,” I yawned, rolled over, and stretched. I usually found myself quite short of sleep these days, so getting even half a night’s rest found my spirits lifted and my mind a notch quicker than usual.

“Aww. I had a few ideas on how to really wake you up...” Myrina pouted as I climbed out of bed and went for breakfast.

After dressing, eating, and making sure I had all my tricks ready for the big fight, I took a few turns and switched into my Doomblade armor, then was off to the arena.

The audience had swelled in size once again now that the singles tournament was reaching its conclusion. We were down to four competitors. Me, Cyra, Myrina fighting as Feisty Redhead, and one other.

Cyra and I were in one bracket, while Myrina was fighting a competitor associated with the Phantomfist family who was at the peak of C-Grade and had done surprisingly well. He’d been held back from advancing to B-Grade for over a hundred years, preparing for a tournament just like this one. From what I gathered, the Samhain Clan was most concerned about him claiming the grand prize and most expected him and Cyra to have their final face-off in the last match of the tournament.

But I didn’t think he’d make it that far. I had full confidence in Myrina to knock him out in her semifinals match, which would mean she’d be facing the winner of our match. I could only assume that she was eager to face either me or Cyra in the final match, whichever of us won. She wouldn't lose and miss out on that opportunity, and I knew she still hadn't shown off everything she could do.

I entered the arena to some small amount of cheering. Surprisingly, there was less booing than I expected. Despite the announcer’s best efforts to focus on the way I won my fights with expensive items, I had still entered this tournament as an underdog. And while Feisty Redhead had claimed much of the dark horse spotlight, I was still an object of great intrigue thanks to how far I’d made it.

“And in one corner, we have the infamous Doomblade! Though he relies heavily on enchanted items and makes a mockery of skilled fighters who’ve trained for years to master unique skills and techniques, and though he hides behind his armor and refuses to disclose his identity to the public, he stands before us undefeated!” The announcer paused a moment, as though waiting for a chorus of boos. Only a few came. The announcer continued a moment later.

“And against him is the beautiful, the fearsome, the indomitable Cyra Samhain! This unflappable warrior is the epitome of dedication. She is what happens when someone practices tirelessly, day after day and year after year! We gather here today in honor of her hard work so that we can watch her finally prove that skill is the true measure of a hero!”

Cyra and I both walked toward the center of the arena. We could start as far apart as we wanted, but both of us intended to fight at close range.

“I think the announcer likes you,” I said to Cyra.

Cyra’s lips drew tight in annoyance. “The announcers are always former competitors. Some don’t like your fighting style.”

“And you?” I asked curiously.

Cyra kept her stance firm and picture-perfect. Even when she spoke, her flawless posture didn’t budge. “I expect you to show me everything you have.”

“Begin” the referee shouted, marking the end of our conversation.

Cyra rushed me the instant the match began. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation in her actions as her sword flashed for my throat in a lightning-quick strike.

Despite the speed of her blow, her charge had given me plenty of time to see the blow coming. I easily dodged it. If I were fighting Myrina, I’d fear dodging the attack was a trap, but Cyra was a much more straightforward fighter. She didn’t confuse her enemies, she wore them down with overwhelming technical skill until they couldn’t keep up.

Within moments, I knew that was the strategy she planned to use on me. The throat slash transitioned into a backslash and lunge combination that didn’t let up the pressure for a moment.

I blocked the backslash, but the lunge would have required I block with my weapon or dodge the attack. No doubt Cyra thought I was going to block, where she would bind my sword with her own and disarm me, as I’d seen her do to many others in the arena.

I wouldn’t be caught so easily, though. I shifted my weight and deflected the lunge on my armor, finally buying me an opening to retaliate. My armor could shrug off her attacks, while I trusted hers wouldn’t survive an attack from my sword. That was my only chance to win this battle.

She tried to replicate my feat and take my sword as a glancing blow against her shoulder plates to turn the move into an even exchange of blows, but my sword cut deep grooves across her enchantments while hers was ineffectual. It was clear my gear was made of sterner stuff than hers, much to my relief.

I had hoped to keep the pressure up, but Cyra switched tactics instantly. Moments later, she had me under pressure again, and I didn’t have an opening to press my advantage.

Despite the flurry of attacks, Cyra found room not just to breathe, but to talk.

“They told me this armor was the best money could buy. But it clearly isn’t at the level of whatever you’re wearing.”

“I try.” I grunted out between defensive swings.

The next minute felt like hours as Cyra whittled me down with superior expertise. My sword proficiency went up faster than it had in a long time. Not since I’d first started training with her, I suspected.

Despite how far I had come, it was clear I was no swordsman compared to her. Pure sword skill was the domain of fighters like the one before me.

Without my armor, I would already be out of the fight. I had vainly hoped Cyra would give me enough chances to swing at her sword with my own that I could break her weapon. Alas, I had no luck on that front either. As soon as she realized I could break her weapon with my own, she’d switched to deflecting and dodging and wouldn’t give me even a single solid hit.

I would have to put everything I had into this fight. But first, I had to target Cyra’s bag of holding. If she could easily resupply herself, I’d be in trouble despite my tricks. But if I could take that option off the table, then things might go very well for me.

I was so focused on keeping up with her that she caught me completely off-guard when she transitioned from fighting as far apart as our swords could reach to diving in close for a grapple. She shoved my sword arm aside with her elbow and grabbed her blade in a half-sword grip, just as I’d seen from her cousin in my last match.

I thought I could match her strength with my own now that I had her in my grip, so I tried to grab her. But I was shocked to find she matched my strength with her own. She was the first and probably the only person in the tournament who could overcome the enormous strength stats of my power armor with nothing but her own natural stats.

“I’m disappointed. Is this all you’ve got?” Cyra asked.

An instant later, her arms slipped free of my attempts to stop her, driving the tip of her sword toward the gap in my armor where my helmet met my chestplate. She was in reach, practically in my arms as she shouldered my sword arm aside with her elbow. Cyra was going right for the throat and had already maneuvered herself out of the way of the explosive fire mana defenses I’d crafted for just this sort of thing. She’d been watching my match with her cousin and was prepared for the counter I’d added.

If I had the opportunity, I would have let out a sigh. Cyra was too strong for me to fight on an even playing field. From the start, I knew I’d need to use my special weapons if I wanted to win, but it felt wrong to use them before at least trying to fight fairly. Now, it was clear I needed them.

I used the Acid of Amazonian Armor Erasure. With her so close, it was impossible to miss. The item materialized in my hand, and then the glass sphere that held the magical acid ruptured and coated Cyra’s armor and weapon. Immediately, it began eating away at both.

Simultaneously, and using my other arm, I activated my lasso. With Cyra’s hands so close together trying to stab me, she couldn’t resist as I caught her forward arm in the magical bindings. With a tug, I just barely jerked her arms aside far enough to pull the tip of her weapon off-course. It was just a tiny nudge, but that nudge was enough for the repulsion runes protecting my joints drover her blade away from its target.

All of a sudden, the tides had turned and it was Cyra struggling to get away from me while I tried to hold her tight. I restrained her with one hand, and the other went right to her bag of holding at her hip.

“Damn perv!” Cyra growled as I squeezed her ass a bit more than necessary in my fumbling to tear free the pouch. She pulled her head back and slammed her helmet against mine in a headbutt that had me reeling.

Despite my best efforts, she forced her way out of my grip and put some distance between us. But not before I finally tore her bag of holding from her. I tried to use the same trick I’d pulled on her cousin and reel her in with the lasso like a leash, but Cyra wasn’t caught off guard by the move.

First, she tried to cut the rope with a quick swipe of her sword, but rope made by me was not so easily cut. Her blade bounced off, and Cyra changed tactics as she gripped the rope and pulled against me. The two of us tugged on one another, and I was surprised to find myself slowly sliding across the sand in her direction.

I held on a few moments later, then switched directions. The effort she put into pulling the lasso out of my grip went into my sudden forward charge. I leveled my sword at her like a knight with a lance, and if I made contact, the match would have been over then and there.

But naturally, Cyra saw the attack coming and jumped atop my blade. She heaved herself over my head, ducking low enough that the rope around her wrist got caught around my helmet. The move forced me to drop the rope, and I ducked low to roll to freedom.

We paused our frantic fighting. Both the announcer and the audience were roaring overhead, though most of the battle had to have been too fast for them to follow.

“I underestimated your tricks, Doomblade. But they won’t win you the fight.” Cyra looked at me with narrowed eyes.

I glanced at her sword. The enchanted metal was already sagging like it was made of wax and left out in the hot sun. While my new concoction, Acid of Amazonian Armor Erasure, was really a liquid host for a complex series of solvents that specialized at dissolving metal. Even I wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, since I’d bought most of the chemicals that went into the concoction from local alchemists. Most of my work had been on the dispersal mechanism and identifying the perfect potion blend.

“We’ll see about that,” I taunted in reply.

Cyra swung her sword at me, but midway through her swing realized something was wrong. I didn’t bother to block and took the swipe on my gauntlet. Cyra’s sword failed her and broke in two midway past the hilt. She looked down at herself and realized most of her armor wasn’t far behind.

“Damn,” Cyra cursed. Then she reached for her bag of holding to draw out another sword, only to find it gone.

“Looking for this?” I taunted as I held up her bag of holding and waved it in front of me. I tucked the bag into an armored hip compartment and snapped it shut. Cyra would have a tough time getting it out of that without a weapon to attack me with.

Even with half a sword and rapidly deteriorating armor, Cyra stood firm. She took up a defensive position once more, eyes focused even as her breastplate sagged and fell around her waist, leaving her standing across from me in nothing more than the thin strips of chest bindings Amazonian warriors favored.

“You’re a tricky foe. I admit I underestimated you. But I can not fail my clan!” Cyra rushed me again, attacking in a flurry of ferocious blows once more. It took me a moment to realize what she was doing, and by the time I’d caught on, she’d nearly wrenched my sword from my hands.

If she took my blade from me, I’d be right back where I started. That was something I couldn’t allow. So I shoved Cyra aside and shoved my sword into a different hip compartment, this one dimensionally expanded large enough to plunge my sword through. Then both of us were unarmed.

“Fists it is then,” Cyra said, balling her hands and preparing for a fistfight.

She rushed me, and I held up my shield to block her as she hit me like a battering ram. Even without a weapon, Cyra was still a deadly warrior. And while I had trained to use a sword with her, I couldn’t say the same about my fists. Luckily, I still had my shield.

She started by probing my defenses, but despite my strength, I just couldn’t keep up with her. Even without armor or a weapon, she could still pound me into the dirt if I played her game.

But I wasn’t out of tricks yet.

I deployed the last and most fearsome of my specialty weapons, developed with the help of Myrina and dozens of unwitting alchemists and wizard craftsman in Mucaria. Not counting my labor, this single potion represented more than thirty-five thousand contribution points, but I knew it was worth each and every one.

I deployed the Sticky Slime of Amazonian Subjugation.

The glass sphere enchanted for maximum dispersion wouldn’t work for this slime, thick and vicious as it was. The trick with this slime was that basic, neutral mana would turn it as runny as water for a moment, so I needed to detonate a mana bomb at just the right time to get it to coat Cyra completely.

I left myself wide open in a trick that reminded me a lot of Myrina's fighting style. Cyra dove in for the kill, only to realize that she’d fallen into my trap. In one hand, I activated a mana bomb. In the other, I activated the slime.

Both exploded at once, coating Cyra in a fountain of white goo. I jumped clear just as the slime hardened, though even still I had to deploy another Mana Bomb just to clean the mess off my hands and armor. Cyra was not so lucky, though. She’d been completely coated from head to toe in slime.

Its grip on her was so strong that her partially dissolved armor was torn right off her body, leaving her struggling against it in nothing but her underclothes.

If this was the Cyra I’d met back in Valkyrie’s Watch, this was where I’d declare victory. But she’d grown as much as I had. After a few seconds of pointless struggles, she realized physical might wouldn’t release her from the clingy white goo coating her entire body. Only magic would do that.

She went still a moment, focusing. With a straining arm, she reached out and tore a single strand of hair from her head. She held the hair between her fingers a moment, then blue light shone along its length.

With a swipe, she flicked her wrist and cut the slime binding her arm in place.

Inwardly, I cursed. I knew she had a magical sword ability, since I’d been with her when she picked it up. I had hoped it wouldn’t work without a real sword, though. Maybe this was some combination of abilities she’d figured out, or perhaps she’d picked up a new skill I didn’t know about.

Whatever the case was, one thing was certain. Cyra wasn’t going down easily.

I couldn’t let her free herself, so I grabbed the dangling end of the lasso I’d dropped earlier and pulled it. It didn’t restrain her sword arm, but it pulled her at an awkward angle that made it harder for her to free herself.

“Surrender, Cyra. I’m going to win!” I shouted.

Cyra grit her teeth, expression firm. “You haven’t won yet, Doomblade.”

Reluctantly, I began my offensive. I reached into the pouch at my waist and pulled out a fistful of inscribed monster cores. Then, I tossed them into the arena sands all around Cyra.

Mana emanated from each core, gathering and swirling until monstrous shapes formed, all of them ghosts of ferocious beasts. I recognized many of them as the spectral bears, rabbits, and other woodland creatures Cyra and I had so easily bested during the Dragon Lodge entrance exams.

But that had been when Cyra could fight back. Right now, she was practically helpless.

“Attack,” I ordered the monsters.

Cyra was forced to turn her attention from freeing herself to defending herself. All her thrashing mended the work she’d done to cut herself free of the sticky slime binding her in place, just as I’d planned. It was a truly underhanded way to beat a skilled warrior like Cyra. When the boos came my way this time, I knew I probably deserved them.

“Would you look at that? Doomblade plans on kicking back while the noble and majestic Cyra Samhain is unfairly assaulted from all sides by specters! Trapped as she is, the young matriarch from the Samhain Clan is helpless before them! What an underhanded way to win.” The announcer chided me from on high.

I pulled my sword back out of storage and buried it in the sand. Then I tied the lasso to the hilt to keep the rope tight and restrain Cyra’s movements.

“Give it up!” I yelled again, and this time Cyra was too busy defending herself from gnashing teeth, claw swipes, and extremely aggressive spectral rabbits. She couldn’t spare the time to speak to me.

“I... swore... to win...” Cyra grunted from between gritted teeth. I could see her muscles strain against her bonds. The slime hardened the more she struggled, locking her in place. Despite that, she pushed harder, and much to my surprise, the slime started cracking. She might very well break free through brute strength alone.

So I rummaged around and found more of Reluna’s talismans. I picked out the ones with projectile effects and then put away any that used neutral mana. What followed was a barrage of lightning bolts, fire balls, ice spikes, wind blades, and every other talisman I had on me, all thrown at Cyra one after another.

Over the course of a minute, Cyra was a bleeding and bloody wreck. She looked terrible, but still she fought on. I glanced at the referee, who waved his hand at me to continue.

Cyra had outlasted most of my talismans, and despite being restrained and only able to flick her wrist, she killed most of the monsters I’d summoned too. But now she was battered, bruised, and exhausted. Victory was mine for the taking, though claiming it was going to gnaw at my guts for a long time after this. She wasn’t going to surrender. I had to knock her out.

“Y-you...” Cyra panted, still glaring at me.

I approached, dragging my heel in the dirt to kick up a cloud of sand. This moment was just for us, not for the audience. I wanted a little privacy.

Cyra tried to take a swing at me even now, but her strength had left her. The hair she’d been using was just a hair now.

I reached for my helmet and undid the latches there. Air hissed as gas escaped my helm, and I revealed my face to her.

“I promised you a duel. I hoped it was as good as you wanted.”

Cyra blinked, eyes hazy as she made out my face.

“C-Carter?” she asked in confusion.

I patted her on the cheek.

“Sorry about this, Cyra. But nobody’s going to believe you suddenly surrendered. Just try to go to sleep for me.”

I placed the helmet back on my head and cocked back a fist. The last thing Cyra saw was my fist slamming into the side of her head.

She went limp a moment later, and the referee called the match.

“Winner, Doomblade!”


<Note>
The long anticipated duel! Hope it was satisfying. I felt under a bit of pressure writing it, since I knew a lot of you guys were looking forward to it.

And yes, I intentionally had the climax be the semifinal match with Cyra. While having Cyra vs Carter in the finals might have been more dramatic just thinking of this book, this is better for setting up book 5.