February ~ 35!

Grant nodded and stepped forward to face down his opponent. He’d be lying if he’d stated that he was ready to take her on. After watching her easily defeat three Vassals and one Wielder without breaking a sweat, he knew better than to hand her another easy win. Rather than running to share the fate of his fellow competitors, he stood in a defensive guard position. Immediately, people started to boo him.

“Your booing means nothing to me,” Grant snorted defiantly, “I’ve seen what makes you cheer.”

No one except Lady February heard him, but luckily, his words only made her chuckle. Silence slowly fell among the assembled guests. The defeated competitors sat on the sidelines, pleased with how things had turned out; they didn’t stand a chance against Lady February, particularly if they weren’t willing to inflict mortal wounds.

Grant held no loyalty for the woman standing before him. He would do whatever it took to defeat her and travel onwards. He unsheathed February Twenty Nine with a smooth motion, the steel ringing out across the courtyard. “I’m prepared, Lady February.”

“Nice sword. Do you know how to use it?” She lowered her voice so that her words wouldn’t carry, and Grant couldn’t detect sarcasm this time. “I hope that you do… Lord January. Come now, show me what you’re made of. I also hope you understand what’s at stake here.”

“Regent’s fury.” Grant cursed softly. If she knew who he was, there was no way she hadn’t learned nearly everything he was capable of doing. Lady February circled him, a cat ready to pounce on its prey. Like a cat, she would likely toy with her prey first before landing a deadly blow. As his nerves settled, he let his training soothe his thoughts. She had endless stamina, but there were a few areas of weakness which Grant had identified.

Her Wielded Weapon, the massive metal gauntlets, were powerful at extremely close range. If he properly used his ability to place his sword precisely, he should be able to keep her at bay, due to the difference in their ranges. The only other aspect of what he had seen her do that could possibly be seen as a weakness was her repeating pattern of strikes. He had no reason to believe she would change her fighting style, which meant there was an opportunity.

Grant’s mental preparation nearly cost him the fight in the first move.

A wind-wrapped fist flew towards his face, and only instinct led to him dodging the lightning-quick opening strike. Her metal gauntlet skimmed harmlessly across the top of his head, somehow still dealing two points of blunt damage. He recovered his stance and let his blade flash out, creating some distance between himself and those fists.

He instantly reevaluated what he had thought of as a weakness: the lack of reach wasn’t a problem for her. What she lacked in reach, she made up for with pure speed. In the blink of an eye, her left fist flowed forward around his outstretched blade. He was ready this time. He cleanly dodged to the side and sliced the edge of February Twenty Nine across her back with an underhand sweep.

Damage dealt: 28 slashing. Debuff added: Heavy bleeding. -7 health per second for four seconds.

Blood erupted into the air, a gasp went up from the crowd, and a Calendar of Vassals surged to their feet, ready to put an end to the threat.

“That was… unexpected.” A slight smile spread across Lady February’s lips, and her stance shifted away from her standard open and unguarded position. “Let’s see if you can do that again?”

She shot forward, her movement incomparable to what it had been only a moment before. Blade and gauntlets collided in showers of sparks again and again. It took every ounce of skill he had to keep her at bay, and even then, he wasn’t able to do so perfectly. She was suddenly crouched in front of him, and an uppercut slammed into his gut and sent him flying.

Damage taken: 23 blunt (33 mitigated, 11 penetrated.)

“Wh-what was that?” Grant coughed as he read over a message he had never seen before.

<She did forty-five damage outright.> Sarge snapped out the explanation.  <Twelve wasn’t blocked by your armor, thirty-three was, and eleven of that still hit you. If you get hit again, I’ll be able to tell you if a third of the blocked damage gets through, or a quarter of the total, but just don’t get hit!>

That was certainly easier said than done. After Grant had bloodied her, Lady February was far more careful. She also mixed up her movement patterns, so he wasn’t able to damage her in the same manner a second time. Grant’s strategy at this point was to wear her down, but he wasn’t sure if that was going to be possible, knowing that she could sprint for one hundred miles straight.

Even so, there was a difference between running and fighting. Her movements had started to become slightly more sluggish; she hadn’t taken a break once since fighting Shieldnovice, the Vassal that was now walking around with a flag strapped to him. It was imperceptible to those watching, but Grant could tell she was finally beginning to tire. Then she disengaged and opened a good distance between them.

Lady February slowly exhaled and briefly closed her eyes. His eyes could have been deceiving him, but her gauntlets appeared to sparkle for a moment. Her next movements were lighting quick. Fatigued as he was, he couldn’t dodge the sudden burst of blows that rained down on him. Despite wearing armor, he was shocked to discover that his health had dropped by twenty-five percent in those few seconds.

Health: 149/229

<Got it. As far as I can tell, a quarter of the total damage goes right through your armor. Try parrying instead of tanking; perhaps weapon-on-weapon will deal no damage to you.> Sarge’s voice remained calm and analytical, the words giving Grant’s churning thoughts an anchor.

He considered the situation carefully as Lady February got back in position. As she stepped forward, it dawned on him that this was exactly what had happened to the previous competitors. The more armor they had, the more they ignored the attacks… and the faster they fell.

Despite her strange recovery, Grant’s energy certainly wasn’t coming back. His best bet was to continue to keep her at arm’s length. As she darted forward, Grant shifted from a defensive stance to an offensive one. She tried to veer away, noticing his plan, and his blade bit into her calf instead of her side. A damage notification appeared, but Grant wasn’t about to make the mistake of looking away from her. Not a third time.

Her previous playfulness had vanished. Grant knew she had no armor cultivation, which meant that whenever he hit her, she took full damage. Yet, all she showed him was a wild battle fervor, a massive grin stretching across her face. Lady February surged forward and landed an uppercut which he barely managed to block.

His sword completely took the hit, and yet his body was launched into the air. The jarring impact rattled his head, and his mind still hadn’t comprehended what had just happened as the back of his head cracked off the marble tiles. How he hated that he didn’t have any armor on his head for this. The round of applause was instantaneous, as if the fight was over. Anger flooded through him, despite the fact that he was in a daze. Grant watched as the assembled nobles leaped to their feet to congratulate their ruler on yet another well-deserved win.

<Back on your feet! We may encounter defeat, but we must not be defeated!> He wanted to lie there and close his eyes, but he knew that Sarge was right. He got up on all fours before unsteadily forcing himself back onto his feet.

A gasp came from the audience, disrupting the start of Lady February’s self-congratulatory speech. She frowned at him, but motioned away the healers. “Have you not suffered enough, Grant? There is no dishonor in conceding now. I will gladly make you one of my Vassals. You have more than earned that right.”

“Thank you for your offer.” Grant gave a sketchy bow, then firmly set his stance. “I’m here to win. Losing is not an option.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll make it quick.” Disregarding all tact and skillfulness, she rushed in to grapple with him. She took two deep slashes to her arm and torso before she got her hands on his wrists. February Twenty-Nine fell to the ground with a clatter as she squeezed. Somewhere in his addled mind, he remembered that he wasn’t defenseless. Lady February flinched backward as if bitten by a snake as Spark Shield activated at full capacity. Grant used the moment of her confusion to recover his weapon as though it had never dropped to the ground.

A moment was all the respite she offered before she surged toward him once again.

Now prepared, he successfully parried her metallic fists while applying a substantial amount of shock through blocking with his sword, forcing her to retreat and regroup. She raised her fists, and Grant could tell she was about to use her power to rapidly recover. Grant, now on the offense, sprinted forward. Her eyes went wide at the unexpected attack; any normal opponent would have used the moment of respite to recover—but not Grant. He was wise to her attacks, and under no circumstances would he allow her to replenish herself.

She lifted her hands to block the attack, and at the last moment, he dropped down and slid across the sweat-slicked tiles, knocking Lady February’s feet out from under her. She collapsed in a heap with her pink hair in disarray. Both of them were on their backs, so before she could recover, Grant had the tip of February Twenty Nine pressed firmly against the base of her neck.

If she didn’t concede the fight, he wouldn’t hesitate to end her life.

The courtyard erupted into mayhem. Wielders unsheathed their weapons, ready to defend their leader at a moment's notice. Even so, Grant knew that they didn’t stand a chance of stopping him if he decided to follow through. Then he would be the Lord of this month as well and could escape in an instant.

Surprising everyone, Lady February laughed. Not a cackle, nor a shrill cry against loss, but a delightfully cheerful laugh.

“I give up, Grant. You win. I accept that, and all the consequences therein. Now please put your sword away.”