Spear X Sword

An air of hesitation filled that long corridor before Zion. At the end was a bright light and the sound of people cheering. The fighters path to the battlegrounds was a familiar one for Zion but he found himself somewhat unwilling to take a step forwards. His previous bout in the coliseum was to be his last. The young magician felt awkward to step onto the blood soaked sands once more, but this was a favor to his mentor Breaker. It couldn't be helped as he was already here. Zion took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. From here he could just barely hear a few enthusiastic fans calling out his fighting alter ego. Swordking opened his eyes in response and exhaled his doubts with a soft smile. The swordsman advanced.

Silver flowing locks trailed the doll as he emerged from the corridor and into the sunlight. He wore a simple white sleeveless tunic and loose fitting black pants held up by a purple sash. Each step was unhurried and relaxed as he strolled under the cheers of countless citizens. Swordking had not been seen for months and many began to wonder if he, like many other wayward warriors, had left. Given the youth's beautifully crafted face and exotic silver hair he was a big hit with many men and women. Some of them had even been among his haters back when Zion still kept his face hidden and fought using underhanded tactics that earned him the scorn of the audience. It was breaker who taught him how to fight with honor and put on a good show. Zion carried the spirit of a champion Breaker had instilled in him as he approached the center of the arena.

Zion would halt just two meters from the very center expecting his opponent to set their own distance one they arrived. As Zion stood there he checked his equipment. A sword at his left hip and a pronged dagger at his right. This exhibition match was not a typical battle and so the coliseum had provided Zion with dulled weapons. They were comparable to his own gear in design and had been made to last with durability in mind. But the edges were not as sharp as they could be. Apparently his opponent was not a typical warrior of the Coliseum but a performer of some sort. The point was to be more so a display of skill rather than a ruthless battle for victory. Yet the desire to win still sat in his heart as an ember. Breaker had told Zion that the rules of the match should provide him with good training. He was eager to meet his opponent and see if that was really the case.

---

Notes:

There was a spectator in the fight, one who did not wish to make a scene. Moving amongst the chatter and lips painted with wine he rushed. Even as the sickly speech of gossip began to spread the figure kept his head low moving amongst them. To most, he looked like a soldier, in that regard they were right. If there were a detail or guard following his steps they might've looked his way and noticed the ivory on his shoulders, the gold on his chest. No, he didn't want to be seen, for their excitement-riddled brains to know who he is. While they began to bet on the match below he crept his way towards the balcony. He had no desire to think about who could win, or what may happen no, the glory in a fight was in experiencing it. In the roar and rush of a heart, pumping blood into raging rivers.

He looked down at a porcelain pretty man and a violet-locked lady. He saw they were of warring discipline, the sword and spear were rivals for quite some time. To him, it was a foolish gesture to not take up both. It was the wielder, and the creativity behind a tool that made it a threat. It would be interesting to see if complacency guided their skills and if they relied on what they knew and not on what they could think. It was creativity, the response to a changing tide in which real warriors were born. He had fought amongst the glorious strong, conniving, armies armed with tools and war machines that changed a battlefield. It was that memory that guided his blade. His eyes overlooked them both seeing how they carried themselves, it lead him to the face of someone familiar. Watching the pretty boy was Swordking. Familiar faces appeared in funny places, if he took interest maybe there was something to learn from this match.


Scipio lifted his head, the general now proud in his position. He felt a bit of a hypocrite, excitement now infecting his blood as well. It was a bit shameful, but knowing, seeing what he saw gave the chance to see some true warriors. Reim was in a conflicted state, he heard tales of his men killing one another. Of legionnaires taking the law into their hands. It was sickening to see, to hear how the nation had gone undisciplined. From what they came back from the people needed to be strong to build a stable life for the people.

It was refreshing, to see two people who radiated such confidence and such thoughts. A smart fighter was a confident one. He was just waiting to see what type of fight the both of them would put up.
"Now this should be interesting...

Proud Scipio has secreted himself from the audience and the soldiers standing guard failed to find his perch. Many of them might have seen him if they simply knew to turn their heads. Yet the hotly anticipated match demanded all the focus as both fighters approached the center. A sort of energy was building across the masses present as the tension became tangible in the air. All eyes on the fighters save for but a single pair. The old veteran turned gladiator, Breaker, inconspicuously made his way through the stands scanning for Scipio. A flash of gold in the sunlight as the clouds shifted gave away the soldier's position. Breaker stifled a laugh and carefully approached from behind, "Is that golden regalia functional? Or do you just wear it for show?" The former soldier's voice teased.

Perhaps few would dare to tease such a man but Breaker had been the leader of 500 men when Scipio was still just a rookie. It hadn't taken long for this young prodigy of a man to surpass Breaker in both rank and achievements. Breaker had always been bitter about it and even left the military over this issue. In his world, Scipio had always been like a blindingly bright light. A sun incarnate on the earth that it seemed no one could eclipse. But as Breaker stood next to Scipio today after so many years he felt that his spite towards the man had long since snuffed out. His fires burned for a new passion as his veteran gaze landed on the two bright lights down below.

"You may be yet young, Scipio. But the next generation has some promising talents."

Breaker crossed his arms and watched over the two fighters as they met with a strange smile. Seeing these youngsters grow and develop was now Breaker's hobby. When he spoke to Zion about the match he had felt there was something different about the young man. He looked forward to seeing how his student would fair against the champion arranged to face Swordking. But most of all, he was grateful to Scipio for the opportunity to drag this disciple of his back into the coliseum.

---

Seven meters separated Zion from the enchanting spearwoman and as if by some unspoken rule all the cheers of the crowd died down. A still quiet fell over the coliseum as peopled strained their ears to try and listen in on what these two fighters would say to one another. Few among them would be able to catch his soft reply however. With a look of enlightenment flashing across his eyes Zion laughed, "Ha, my friend Jason once performed with you and it didn't go too well for him." Zion's face shifted and his hair shrank as the silver locks turned auburn. It was the same face he'd taken on with Trickster Foxspirit in Asmoday when he rushed out to care for Zubaidah's vanquished foe.

"Though I can't say I've ever forgotten how you broke his body with magic tools but failed to defeat his spirit. Are you sure you have the strength to win without your tools?"

An annoyingly polite smile formed on Zion's face as he spoke and his appearance shifted back to his silver haired appearance with only the fox feature still hidden by the transformation. It was clear he was taunting his opponent and a mischievous crookedness took over his smile. A sudden step forward and Zion broke into a sprint yet his human limitations without magic showed through his lack of speed. Even so, the distance between them was not large. Soon seven meters became just four. Zion held his gladiator's blade forward drawing a straight line towards Zubaidah's neck. Meanwhile the dagger remained cocked back at Zion's side.

Then without warning, he would stop and jump backwards one meter with a kick off the ground. Wary of his opponent's longer reach, Zion's opening move was to feint a charge! He hoped to provoke a response and gauge Zubaidah's range before deciding on how best to break through it.

---

Notes:

The preamble of the two fighters had already made a distinction in their mentalities clear, though neither of them would know this themselves. While Zubaidah was here to perform, Zion was here to train. Breaker had framed this as a bout against a strong foe and a difficult weapon for a swordsman to encounter. While Zion accepted as a favor to Breaker, he could not deny that the match up certainly made his swordsman's spirit burn. Now that Zion was face to face with said "strong foe" he could say for certain that Breaker did not disappoint. His taunt had failed to stir the calm waters of Zubaidah's mind and his feint inspired little aggression from his opponent. A slight frown touched Zions expression for a moment as he landed from his back step but it was fleeting. A smile flashed again and so too did Zion's blade as he advanced.

Stepping forward undaunted by the spear was a valiant Swordking as Zion tilted his body forward and kept low while his legs carried him forwards. Again, he entered the range of the spear. His arm telegraphed a wide swipe with his sword about to be wound up. Again, his foot kicked the ground, but not to retreat this time. He cut a hard 45 degree angle turn to the right with that kick jumping aside to approach Zubaidah with the spear in the ground between him and the one in her hand. The swordsman advanced in a spiral trajectory until his was just barely in range to strike at his opponent's forearm with a thrust from his gladiator's blade.

Notes:

The targeted forearm moved away and the butt of Zubaidah's spear swept around to meet Zion's blade. The swordsman's eyes flashed as he had finally managed to provoke his opponent into making strikes of their own. The sword in his hand offered no resistance to being batted aside, it's movements seeming as dull as its blunted edge falling lazily back to Zion's right side. His steps, however, were sharp as could be as the swordsman advanced after his opponent to pressure her away from the spear in the ground.

The bloody branch had been flipped into a reverse grip as it snaked around from behind Zion's back. Its pommel nearly rested against Zion's chin as he kept it close to his chest waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The flowing spear movements brought that moment on without pause as Zubaidah handled her weapon like a familiar dance partner and transitioned into a half moon arcing sweep. Zion continued to step forward and brought both his blades forward. The sword clashed with the strike to bear the brunt of the blow. The dagger strike accompanied it simply for the dulled edges its blade and prong to bite down on the shaft of the spear. By torqueing the dagger forwards and downwards with his wrist as hard as he could against the spear he sought to bind it.

Using this grip as a point of leverage, Zion would pull his extended left arm which held the bloody branch to help drive his body forwards in a final lunging step. The sword in his right hand would slash out as the vanguard for the lunge, the blade following along the shaft of his opponent's spear. Zion accompanied the maneuver with a shout to raise his spirits. "Haa!" The silver haired swordsman pressed his advance with confidence. The entire gambit an expression of Zion's personal style of swordsmanship.

---

Breaker watched from the stands at Scipio's side without making any more commentary on the fight until now. As soon as he saw Zubaidah move away from her second spear and Zion move forward to separate them the old man couldn't help but brag. "Haha, my student sure isn't giving your champion much room to breath, Scipio. Perhaps its for the best this is just an exhibition match with practice weapons." A smug smile at the gladiator's face. He knew that Zion had already become his own fighter, but the fundamentals of his teachings were what allowed the boy to reach these heights. This pride allowed him to finally stand at Scipio's side without feeling inferior. A belly of laughter erupted from the old man venting his past grievances.

As the swordsman's blade drew its arc his opponent drew one of her own with her body. No one had ever performed such feats of acrobatics to avoid his blows before. Rather than fuss over Zubaidah escaping he turned around to marvel at the spearwoman's grace. To some it may have seemed like mere circus tricks, but in Zion's eyes it showed that this woman had mastery over her weapon. The swordsman turned his body to follow his foe bringing the tip of his gladiator's sword around to point at her. With a flick of the wrist his dagger dislodged the end of her spear. The shaft sank but did not fall over due the other end being lodged into the earth so Swordking gave it a light kick to knock the spear onto the floor 1m away to his right.

"I'm impressed you abandoned your weapon with such decisiveness...But does it not stain your pride as a student of the spear to do so? Though its just a training weapon, I imagine that spear of yours must be weeping."

Though the words might come out sounding like a taunt, Zion genuinely wanted to know what Zubaidah felt towards the spear she wielded. For him, the sword was more than just a tool. It was a partner. An honored ally to aid him in his time of need and to help focus his strength. He couldn't imagine discarding one of his blades that way unless it was part of some desperate plan and to do so would still be shameful after the fact. Fighting shamefully was fine when he was weak, Casvallion had taught him that. But if he wanted "greatness" in the eyes of others it would require the gravitas that comes with honor. This he had learned from Caelus and Breaker. Hoping to find that weighty quality in himself, Zion did not press the attack and instead waited for his opponent to recover from their roll and reset if she wished. He was also patiently curious if she would have an answer to his question.

Perhaps it was because he had held high expectations going into this match thanks to Breaker's promises, but despite maintaining that polite smile, disappointment was obvious in his tone and expression. Yes, it was an evaluation Zubaidah could likely discern even without the swordsman saying it aloud. "I thought she was going to be stronger than this..."

The question Zubaidah posed gave pause to an advance Zion had begun. A mere single step had been closed between the two when he gave pause to listen. It struck Zion as an odd thing to ask but as he listened he started to understand. The smile playing at his lips deepened but he did not interrupt. His eyes narrowed into crescents of mischief and he lowered his stance slightly switching which weapon he held forward. Now the three pronged dagger was his vanguard and the gladiator's blade was held hidden behind his own silhouette. This adjustment was slow and subtle as his opponent spoke. Though Zion couldn't predict the exact wording it was more or less the sort of taunting he had been trying to use on her. She was just better at it. His smile turned wry at the thought of it. But in the end she had missed the mark.

"You seem to have misunderstood me. I don't hold a grudge against you and I'm certainly not angry with you. I just thought that if I mocked you it would throw you off your game."

In a shameless move he simply admitted to his subterfuge openly and honestly. The way he smiled politely throughout being sickeningly genuine. "I admit, it put a bad taste in my mouth to see a friend lose. I've never fought in a war either. But that doesn't mean I've not faced death before. I've had my life almost taken and I've taken the lives of others. This is what me being serious looks like. Sorry if I seem a bit naïve but I'm a lot younger than I look. Bleh~" His words were childishly punctuated with his tongue sticking out at Zubdaidah teasingly. Was this silver haired swordsman truly being serious or was he just messing around?

A solid kick off the sandy arena floor would give the answer as Zions expression became solemn and he pushed his advance once more. His low stance  on the approach held and he was almost leaning so far forward that he'd trip himself up if he lowered any further. The dagger in his hand retracted close his chest and his body became like a spring under tension save to his legs which carried him forwards into Zubaidah's range.

The blunted training weapons were given edge by the sharpness of Zion's gaze. His advancing steps cut into the spear user's field of authority commanding his own space and encroaching further. With only one weapon this would have been more difficult, but the dagger offered Zion the defensive options he needed to make these steps of progress. When the polearm swept up towards his his own sidearm snapped forward to intercept and divert the blow. The woman retreated and the silver haired swordsman chased after. When she pressed against him to push him back Zion was already in a full sprint and swung down his Gladius clashing with the polearm as his dagger moved like a snake to bite onto the shaft of Zubaidah's weapon from below.

The kitsune's feet left the ground carrying all his momentum as he pressed against her spear from the opposite side as the dagger to better secure his grip no the weapon as he used it for leverage to pull his legs up. Both feet would then kick horizontally towards Zubaidah's chest in an attempt to turn around who would be pushing whom back while disarming his opponent at the same time. This improvised dropkick was shamelessly aimed at Zubaidah's breasts, or rather at the center of her torso to maximize the effect of his kick.

The rising force of a jump had been interrupted by the oblique kick causing Zion to falter backwards instead having to step back to catch himself from falling over. But his hands and arms held firm and kept Zubaidah's spear snagged between his swords. Again, his opponent abandoned her weapon. He blinked once in bafflement as the dancer would square up to fight him with her bare hands. Was this not an exhibition of spear against sword? A mischievous smile came over Zion as he turned his arms and used his whole body to ram the spear into the sandy ground so it would stand on its own. He then stood in front of it facing Zubaidah as he began to speak to the crowd in a voice that was loud, yet soft like velvet.

"I was told this fight would be to determine which is better!"

The swordsman raised his blades to the sky and asked the audience. "Sword!?" Cheers sprung out from much of the crowd, but a great many also sat silent. Then Zion pointed his gladius at the spear behind him with a lazy gesture as though it wasn't worth the effort as he asked again. "Or the spear!?" Some cheers lit up, but it was like a dying spark in the flame. Even Zubaidah herself had let go of her spear twice now and was even choosing to rely on a form of hand to hand combat. If this wasn't admitting a loss for the spear, then what was? But not all of the audience had made their voices heard yet. The swordsman's use of a dagger could be seen as bending the rules. One could argue that was also admitting the loss of using a single sword against a spear. Others felt that the fight wasn't over until one or both fighters lost the will to battle and they could not see despair in Zubaidah before this stunt.

All the while, Zion would keep his gaze on Zubaidah making eye contact with her. He wanted her to know that he was trying to embarrass her. To get into her head and make her lose her cool. A wild opponent was dangerous, but emotional ones are predictable. He was planning to set her up to be finished off as he started taking slow and deliberate steps closing the few meter gap between them as he held his gladius forward and his dagger lingering behind his back a bit. With each step the silver haired warrior took, the crowds cheering would go back and forth.

The opponent arced overhead and Swordking followed with his gaze as he shifted his stance. The dagger had been kept at his back for this very sort of situation and it lashed out like a viper to strike Zubaidah where he thought she would land. But the woman used her spear to snake around at an unusual angle forcing Zion to step back in order to avoid the low sweeping strike. By the time Zion recovered his stance the dancer had already sprung off towards her other spear. He knew it was folly to give chase as his speed without relying on his storm kitsune powers was far from fast enough to intercept her. He simply accepted that his opponent had recovered both weapons and held his position like a stone, preferring to strengthen his stance and re-center his gravity.

The gladius style training weapon and the wooden pronged dagger were both held out in front just a bit wider than shoulder width pointing the tips of both weapons upwards and inwards slightly. As Zion faced his foe he could hear that the supporters for "Spear" had become a bit more vocal in the crowd but this did not shake his confidence. Swordking was able to feel it in his opponents words. To her this was merely a show, a display for entertainment. But to Zion it was so much more. How could he lose to such a weak resolved reason to fight? Her words were met with a steely gaze as the swordsman stood tall and firm in the face of her rush.

It was time to unleash everything and bring this bout to a close thought the swordsman. The tip of the training spear pierced the air and scraped Zion's cheek as he advanced with a sway at the last moment and cut down on the spears shaft as it passed him to engage it with his dagger. Another step forward smooth as slik as the training gladius flashed in a vertical line. Zion would then seemlessly sweep his dagger forward off her spear shaft in a horizontal arc and used the momentum to spin his body as he dropped low to the ground delivering a sweeping kick towards his opponent's feet. At the end of the spin his pivoting foot then kicked with all its might.

Like a spring the kick would launch him towards Zubaidah's center as he rose with both blades lashing out. The dagger drawing another horizontal line while the gladius tore a rising arc through the air. A sudden flurry of five attacks at once might take a bit to explain but the actions would all take a very short time to complete causing many in the audience to miss part of it if they blinked. This burst of vigor from Zion was a stark contrast to his prior fighting method. It was clear he was seeking to bring the climax to this bout to bare.