Gregor charged forward, his boots thudding hard against the dirt, the firelight catching the rage in his eyes as he raised the wooden sword high above his head. Arthur saw the way his brother's muscles shifted, the way his shoulders rolled back and his torso leaned forward with full commitment to the swing, and though he had little training and even less confidence in his swordsmanehip, something inside him told him what was coming. A downward strike, a heavy one with all his weight backed behind it, clearly meant to end things in one blow.
"Shit," Arthur hissed under his breath as his body moved before he had time to think, his weight shifting to the side and his feet dragging across the dirt to pull him out of the weapon's path. By the time Gregor cleared the fire pit, Arthur was already leaning away. The wooden blade cut through the air with a rush, the wind of it brushing Arthur's cheek as it slammed into the ground where he'd been standing an instant before. He didn't stop to think, didn't question himself; both hands tightened on the hilt of his own wooden sword and he swung at Gregor's side.
The impact was louder than he expected, it was as if the forest made it echo. A sharp crack followed by Gregor's shout, half pain and half rage. Gregor staggered sideways, clutching at the spot, his face twisted in fury. He hadn't expected Arthur to land a single hit, let alone on the opening exchange, and the surprise of it left him feeling humiliated for the first time Arthur had ever seen.
Arthur should have pressed forward. Every part of him screamed to follow up, to keep swinging while Gregor was off balance, but shock froze him in place. He couldn't believe it—he had hit Gregor. He had actually landed a strike on the brother who had always towered over him, mocked him, beaten him down. For a second all he could do was stare at what he had done.
That second was enough.
Gregor's free hand shot out in a blur, the back of it slamming across Arthur's shoulder with brute force. Arthur stumbled back with a grunt, nearly losing his grip on his sword as the pain tore down his arm. He caught himself awkwardly, his knees bending, and forced himself upright again.
"You fucking cunt!" Gregor spat, his face red and furious as he held his ribs with his other hand. "I'm going to fucking beat you bloody."
Arthur steadied his footingf, his breathing a little ragged but his grip on the sword much tighter now. He saw Gregor's rage and, for once in his life, he didn't cower. His lips curled into a bitter grin as he forced the words out between shallow breaths. "How does it feel?" he said mockingly. "How does it feel to be weaker than me?"
Gregor's nostrils flared as he glared at him, his teeth bared like an animal. Arthur's grin widened, the words tasting almost sweet on his tongue. "Maybe I won't be Father's disappointment anymore. Maybe that's you now."
The fire popped loudly between them, and the tension thickened as Gregor's grip tightened on his weapon. His body quivered with the kind of anger that couldn't be contained, and Arthur knew another charge was coming. Gregor bellowed as he came forward again, this time not with reckless abandon but using proper footwork and holding his sword correctly. Arthur saw the blade swing out from the side with force that made the air whistle around it. He yanked his wooden sword up in desperation and the impact jarred his arms hard, the vibration running through his elbows as the strike connected. His feet skidded in the dirt and his hip twisted, throwing him off balance so badly that he almost toppled over.
Gregor pressed the advantage instantly. He wrenched his weapon back and slammed it down again, then ripped it back across from the other side, his roars mixing with the sound of wood cracking against wood. Arthur stepped back once, twice, three times, each step clumsy and rushed as he tried to keep the sword between him and Gregor, the heat of the fire at his side and the crack of every strike shaking through his bones.
"You're nothing but shit!" Gregor shouted as he swung, his teeth bared, the spittle flying from his lips. Another heavy blow crashed down on Arthur's guard, pushing him back again. "Father should have drowned you when you were a runt! Should've let the waves take you away! You've been nothing but a curse on this family!!!!"
Arthur tried to adjust his footing; hhe couldn't keep blocking the blows directly as his arms were already aching, but Gregor came down with another swing before he had the chance.
"You cost us food! You cost us coin! You cost us Mira's future!" Gregor snarled, his face twisted with rage as he slammed the sword into Arthur's again and again. "You're worth less than a dog, Arthur, less than a fucking dog!"
Arthur's arms trembled as he tried to keep the guard up. His breath came in harsh bursts, his chest rising and falling like a bellows, even his legs felt heavy beneath him. He had thought his skill would carry him, that the system giving him knowledge of where to place his feet or how to angle a blade would be enough, but none of that helped him here. It didn't matter that he knew where to block when his arms weren't strong enough to take the hits, and it didn't matter that he understood the footwork when his legs stumbled backward with every step.
Panic surged in his head. He wasn't winning. He wasn't close. He was going to be beaten bloody, dragged through the woods like a dog, and thrown at Father's feet as some pathetic gift. He could already see it—Gregor handing him over to Darry Tanner, and the Tanners laughing as they decided how best to use him. Maybe they would work him to death, maybe they would slit his throat.
Another strike slammed into his guard, forcing him down to one knee before he shoved himself up with a ragged breath, only for the next blow to come down harder, then the next, then the next. He swung once himself, a desperate horizontal cut, but Gregor batted it aside and answered with two quick strikes to his shoulder that made him stagger back further. Arthur's sword wavered in his grip, and his lungs burned as he tried to draw in air fast enough to keep pace.
Gregor stepped in close and brought his sword down from the right, Arthur blocking but stumbling again as his brother's weight pushed against him, the edge of the fire pit biting into his heel. Another swing from the left caught him late, the wooden blade smacking against his forearm and sending pain shooting down to his wrist. He almost dropped the sword.
Gregor roared louder now. He brought the sword around in a wide sideswipe aimed for Arthur's ribs, and Arthur barely managed to twist his blade in time to deflect it away from his side, though it jarred his wrists and nearly tore the weapon from his hands. Before he could recover, Gregor shifted his stance and raised the weapon high overhead, his shoulders rolling as he prepared to bring it down with all his weight behind it.
Arthur's legs moved before he thought, and he pushed himself sideways, the wooden sword crashing down into the ground where he had been standing just a second before. Dirt flew up, and Arthur lunged forward in response, swinging his own weapon at Gregor's chest in the one opening he could see.
The strike never landed. Gregor twisted his blade up at the last moment, catching Arthur's sword against it with a sharp crack and shoving it wide. The deflection left Arthur completely exposed, his chest bare, and before he could pull back Gregor's boot slammed into him. The kick landed square in his chest, the breath blasted out of him in an instant as his body left the ground. He hit the dirt hard, tumbling backward, his sword flying from his grip. His lungs spasmed as he tried to breathe but no air came at first, his chest burning as pain spread across his ribs. He rolled once and then sprawled flat, his eyes wide and his body trembling as he looked up at his brother looming over him.
Gregor stood over him, laughing hard enough that it sounded like a damn dogs bark, the firelight flickering across his teeth as he leaned down just enough for Arthur to hear him clearly. "You're weak," he said, spitting the word like it was filth. "You were a mistake from the day you were born. And when the Tanners get their hands on you, I hope they gut you like a pig and leave you to rot."
Arthur wheezed as he forced air into his lungs, pushing his palms into the dirt and dragging himself up onto one knee. His body screamed at him to stay down, but he knew that if he gave up now then he was finished. Gregor had more strength, more speed, more stamina, and he was the better swordsman by far. Arthur had nothing that could match him.
Or did he?
Shibukawa-ryū.
The memory of how he had thrown the Tanner boys flashed in his mind. He had used that technique before, using their strength against them, and it had worked. Why couldn't it work now? He doubted he could pit it against a sword directly, but he had a sword too. Maybe he could combine what little sword knowledge he had with the skill.
Arthur gritted his teeth and stood, swaying slightly, blood still trickling from his wolf wounds, his arm throbbing. He looked Gregor dead in the eye and forced a grin. "You know what, Gregor? For all your talk, you're not half the man you think you are. I hit you once and you squealed like a stuck pig. Maybe Father will see you as the disappointment instead of me."
Gregor's face twisted, the veins in his neck straining as the words sank in. His eyes widened with fury. He let out a growl and charged forward, raising the wooden sword high.
This time Arthur was ready. He brought his own sword up and met the swing, catching it and shoving it to the right with everything he had. Gregor's force carried through which broke his balance and made him list forward; Arthur stepped in fast with his free hand shooting out to grab his brother's sleeve. He twisted the arm sharply, pulling him down and forward, Gregor stumbling off his stance with a grunt of surprise. Arthur snapped the butt of his sword up into his brother's face with a loud crack, the blow catching him on the nose and forcing a yelp from his mouth as his head snapped back.
Arthur pivoted on his heel and swung his sword, slamming the wooden blade into Gregor's stomach. Gregor roared in pain, clutching at his stomach as he felt himself get winded.
Arthur stepped in again, trying to bring the sword around at his knees, but Gregor reacted fast. He dropped his sword and caught the wooden blade with one hand, and yanked it hard. Arthur stumbled and before he could recover Gregor's other hand clamped around his throat. Arthur's feet left the ground as Gregor lifted him with ease, rage twisting his features. Then he swung him and hurled him through the air like he weighed nothing. Arthur hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt and landing badly on his arm, the pain exploding up to his shoulder and dragging a scream from his chest.
"Who do you think you are!" Gregor bellowed, his face red and furious as he loomed over him. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He kicked Arthur's wooden sword away and spat on the ground. "You'll be lucky if you can fucking speak when I'm done with you."
Arthur crawled back against a tree, pulling himself upright with one hand, his other arm dangling weakly. He glanced at it, flexing his fingers. The arm hurt like hell but it still moved. That was something. The problem was the injuries from the wolf, they hadn't stopped bleeding, and this fight was only making it worse. He was burning through what strength he had left.
'Looks like I'm gonna have to use Novacaine,' he thought bitterly.
He raised his eyes to Gregor and spat blood into the dirt. "You know what you are, Gregor?" he said with disdain. "A coward. Everyone knows it. They whisper it behind your back in the village. They laugh when you're not listening."
"Shut up!" Gregor roared, his sword trembling in his grip.
Arthur pushed harder. "Remember when you bragged about becoming a famous knight when you left Harrowfield? What a fucking joke. Look at you. You're still here. Just another farmer."
"Shut up now!"
"Even Father laughs at you when you turn your back."
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Gregor screamed, his voice breaking as he charged with his sword raised.
Arthur let his eyes narrow as he focused. At the instant Gregor lunged, he activated Novacaine. The pain dulled at once, his body numbing as if it had been smothered, and when the sword came down he caught the blade in his bare hand without flinching. He twisted, guiding Gregor's momentum forward, turning his body sharply. Gregor's feet left the ground as Arthur pulled him through the motion, sending him crashing onto his back with a hard thud.
Arthur didn't stop. He dropped onto his brother and drove his fists into his face.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Each punch split his knuckles more and even cracked the bones in them. His skin was tearing and blood from his own hands was smearing across Gregor's face.
Thud.
Crack.
Gregor's nose burst with a gush of blood.
Thud.
Thud.
Arthur didn't hold back, the numbness shielding him from the pain as he kept pounding Gregor's head into the dirt. And then, as suddenly as it had come, the Novacaine wore off. The agony came crashing back into him, every split knuckle screaming, his chest and ribs lighting up with pain. He gasped, clutching his hand, and screamed out in frustration. "Fuck! Fucking shit!" He spat, his breathing ragged. "I hate this, I hate this!"
He staggered back off Gregor, holding his broken hand tight. His brother lay unconscious, face swollen and bloodied, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Arthur stood over him, cursing under his breath, his whole body trembling with rage and exhaustion.
_____________________________
[Quest Completed]
BROTHER'S DUE
Objective:
– Force Gregor to surrender [Complete]
Bonus Objectives:
– Score the first hit [Complete]
– Disarm him with skill [Failed]
Rewards Gained:
– [Skill Upgrade]: Swordsmanship
– +1 Otherworld Token
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Arthur let out a broken laugh, half-delirious with pain, blood dripping down his fingers as he lifted his eyes to the words. "I won," he muttered.
Then the next wave of messages rolled through.
+3 Swordsmanship
+5 Shibukawa-ryū
Ping
[Swordsmanship] has been upgraded to (Apprentice).
He winced but couldn't stop the faint smile that crept across his face. His hand hurt like hell, his ribs felt cracked, and the wolf wounds stung worse with every movement, but progress was progress. He had survived his brother, he had earned his rewards, and for a brief moment that was enough to keep him standing. But he couldn't afford to waste any more time. Arthur clenched his jaw and used the otherworld token. "Come on," he whispered. "Give me something useful, something to fix this."
_____________________________
[Trait Acquired]
Linguist (Uncommon)
You can speak, and understand every language of man. Grants an affinity for learning magical languages.
_____________________________
Arthur blinked at the message, the words sitting in front of him like a cruel joke. "You've got to be kidding me," he said through his teeth. He flexed his busted hand, the pain lancing through him all over again. "I'm bleeding out in the woods and you give me... what, the ability to chat with goat herders in Yi-Ti?"
He dragged himself back toward the campfire, cursing under his breath. Still, the corner of his mind nagged at him. If this system could hand out things like this, then maybe languages weren't useless after all. Magic existed in this world, that much he knew, and if magic had its own tongue then this might save his life one day.
It didn't matter now though. He needed bandages, he needed water, and he needed to not pass out before his wounds rotted. After he staggered back into the camp, he cursed under his breath and dug through the small bundle of supplies they had collected together over the last few days.
He found strips of cloth from an old shirt she had torn up for kindling and makeshift bandages. His vision swam as he unwound one, clenching it between his teeth while he tried to steady his ruined hand. His knuckles were swollen and raw, skin split open in several places where bone had slammed against bone. He wrapped it anyway; the bandage was loose and sloppy but at least holding the blood in check.
Next were the wolf wounds. He peeled back his shirt, wincing at the wet stick of dried blood, and found the bite marks across his ribs were still seeping. He pressed another strip of cloth against it, biting down harder on the rag in his mouth as the pressure sent a wave of fire up his side. The last thing he felt was the taste of iron on his tongue as his head hit the dirt beside the fire.
Then nothing.
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STATUS MENU
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Name: Arthur of Harrowfield
Class: Farmer
Heritage: Valyrian / Stormlands
Age: 16
Level: 2
Unallocated Stat Points: 0
Title(s): [None]
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COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
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Strength: 6
Dexterity: 4
Constitution: 7 (+15%)
Intelligence: 1
Perception: 2
Luck: 2
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TRAITS
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[Comely]
You've got the kind of face that gets you smiled at flirted with and forgiven for things you probably should not be
[Sword Prodigy]
You wield a blade like it belongs in your hand faster learning speed tighter reflexes and better execution with swords
[Sharp Ears]
Your hearing is unnaturally acute you can detect faint sounds whispers movement even from across the room
[Blood of Valyria]
Your veins run silver and fire whether you earned it by birth or by bed the Old Blood knows its own
Grants heightened affinity with magic dragons and other Valyrian relics
Also makes you just a little bit more unhinged than you'd like to admit
[Demon Back] (Locked)
The secret to a powerful strike lies in the back. Your musculature is abnormal, forming the likeness of a demon when flexed. By engaging these muscles in a precise way, your swings will hit with greater force and your strength will surpass the norm.
Unlock Requirement: Strength 15, Constitution 15
[Weak Gut]
Low resistance to spoiled food rot disease and stress susceptible to nausea and vomiting
[Clumsy Fingers]
Fine motor skills are lacking you struggle with anything requiring delicate precision like lockpicking crafting or stitching
[Linguist]
You can speak and understand every language of man. Grants an affinity for learning magical languages
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SKILLS
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[Observe]
[Carpentry] (80/100) (Novice)
[Conditioning] (15/100) [+15% Constitution]
[Novacaine] (5/100)
[Cooking] (0/100) (Novice)
[Tracker] (5/100) (Legendary)
[Axe Mastery] (49/100) (Novice)
[Carnal Knowledge] (2/100) (Novice)
[Shibukawa-ryū Jujutsu] (10/100) (Novice)
[Lumbering] (55/100) (Novice)
[Swordsmanship] (2/100) (Apprentice)
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(AN: I've decided to change it, I don't like it saying perks. Traits fits so much better idk what I was thinking. Don't let bro cook. Anyway Arthur has beaten his brother and claimed his reward. Hooray. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this)
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