Will of the Battlefield

The second-half semifinal began. The arena, which had been roaring moments ago, gradually quieted.

Everyone understood this was not an ordinary match.

This was the battle that would decide who reached the final against Thane.

Etno Kamsi stepped forward calmly. Across from him stood Hodyr of Drevlorn.

The young warrior rested a massive wooden greatsword upon his shoulder.

The weapon was nearly absurdly large compared to Etno’s normal sword.

One man looked like a swordsman.

The other looked like he had arrived to split a mountain in half.

The referee raised his hand. "Begin."

The moment the word left his mouth...

CLUK

Wood struck wood. The impact echoed throughout the arena.

A shockwave of sound spread across the battlefield.

Several spectators flinched.

Etno’s sword and Hodyr’s greatsword pressed against one another.

For a brief instant, neither moved. Then both exploded backward.

The crowd erupted. Fast. They were far too fast.

Many candidates could not even follow their movements.

Etno advanced first, his feet barely seeming to touch the ground.

His sword flowed like water.

A thrust, followed by a slash, then a feint.

Another thrust.

Every movement carried precision. Every strike sought a weakness. Every step wasted the minimum possible energy.

Meanwhile, Hodyr fought completely differently.

The Drevlorn warrior planted his feet.

Defended, blocked, sometimes parried, and mostly absorbed.

His greatsword moved like a fortress wall.

Whenever Etno attacked, the larger blade was already there, waiting.

CLACK!

CLACK!

CLACK!

Wooden swords collided repeatedly.

The sounds echoed across the arena.

Yet something strange became apparent.

Etno was not fighting to win quickly, and Hodyr was not fighting to survive. Both were pursuing different goals.

The judges noticed, including some of the instructors.

Bod cackled as he watched.

Etno was hiding.

Hodyr was exposing.

The Drevlorn warrior knew he was not favored.

He knew Etno possessed deeper techniques and that his own victory was unlikely.

So instead of preserving himself, he forced exchanges.

Again and again.

Making Etno react. Making him move and reveal.

Because Donovan had already fallen, the dynasty had already suffered humiliation.

If Etno won the tournament after that...

The comparison would become even more painful.

Thus, if Drevlorn could not win, neither should Krynova.

At least that was Hodyr’s reasoning. It was simple math... If Thane could win on his home ground against Donovan, then he should also win against Etno.

If Thane was too injured and exhausted, then he would try to tire Etno to the best of his ability.

So he pushed.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Trying to drag secrets into the light, the giant greatsword descended.

BOOM!

Etno sidestepped.

The wooden blade struck the arena floor.

Dust exploded upward, and before the dust settled, Etno attacked.

Three slashes, one thrust, and an upward cut.

Each aimed at a different opening. Hodyr blocked every one of them.

Though barely, the crowd cheered.

Even Thane found himself leaning forward.

The battle was unlike anything he had fought before.

Then something changed.

Bod immediately noticed it.

"So we’re doing this now." The spear user smiled.

Etno’s posture shifted slightly. A subtle change.

Yet those knowledgeable in combat instantly recognized it.

The real fight had begun. Hodyr noticed as well.

His eyes narrowed. Finally, the hidden cards.

Etno’s sword moved. At first glance, it looked normal.

Then suddenly it was not. The sword flowed.

Not merely fast or elegant.

It seemed to take the shortest path possible through space.

Every movement connected perfectly into the next.

One slash naturally became another.

One step naturally became a thrust.

Everything linked together.

The style possessed a strange beauty, like watching a river carve through stone.

"The Swift Sword Art," one judge whispered.

Several others nodded.

The famous exclusive sword art of the Kamsi Family.

A technique passed down through generations.

Etno advanced and Hodyr retreated.

For the first time, the Drevlorn warrior found himself being pressured.

The difference was immediate.

His greatsword suddenly felt slow, heavy, and cumbersome.

Etno struck again, and Hodyr blocked.

Etno countered the block, Hodyr defended again.

Etno flowed around the defense, like water slipping through cracks.

The crowd erupted.

Meanwhile, Hodyr growled, then his own stance changed.

The greatsword rotated.

His feet widened. A gust of wind formed.

Several spectators blinked.

Wind?

No.

Not real wind. Yet something similar.

The massive blade swung.

WHOOM.

The air seemed to split. Dust scattered.

Clothing fluttered.

The crowd gasped.

"Tornado Splitting Sword," another judge whispered.

The secret art of the Misical Family.

The greatsword descended, making Etno retreat.

The strike smashed into the ground.

The impact left visible cracks across the arena floor.

The crowd roared.

For several minutes, neither gained advantage.

Swift Sword Art against Tornado Splitting Sword.

Elegance against power.

Precision against force.

A masterpiece.

Then, amidst the excitement, Bod nearly jumped out of his seat.

Because suddenly a gigantic shadow appeared beside him.

The spear user turned and found Thane standing there. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

The giant had somehow crossed half the waiting area without him noticing.

"AAAH!"

Bod almost dropped his drink.

"Where did you come from?"

Thane ignored the question.

His eyes remained fixed on the battle.

"Why aren’t they using intent?"

Bod blinked, then stared in puzzlement.

Out of every possible question, that was not what he expected.

The spear user looked toward the battlefield.

Then back toward Thane and then toward the battlefield again.

"You’ve been watching all this time, and that’s your question?"

"Yes. Is there anything else to ask?" Thane replied.

Bod sighed. "You’re impossible."

The giant waited patiently.

Bod finally pointed toward Etno. "Because intent isn’t a technique."

Thane frowned.

"There is no space for intent, and there is a possibility that Hodyr also has intent. Hodyr is actually a wild card."

The giant looked disappointed.

Bod rubbed his forehead.

Then tried again.

"Think of it this way."

Thane listened carefully.

"Intent is the result."

"The result of what?" Thane questioned.

"Understanding."

The giant narrowed his eyes.

Bod continued. "When someone understands their weapon deeply enough..."

He pointed toward Etno. "They can impose that understanding upon others."

Then he pointed toward Hodyr. "But to do that consistently while fighting another expert..."

His expression became serious. "...requires focus."

The spear user gestured toward the battlefield.

"They’re using techniques right now.

They are thinking, adapting, reacting. There isn’t enough room for intent."

Thane watched silently, for once.

He began to think.

Bod continued. "When warriors become truly powerful..."

His eyes remained on Etno.

"Their techniques and intent become one."

The giant stared. The words sounded complicated, very complicated.

"Do you think all generals fight with blessings only?" Bod asked a question this time.

Thane nodded. "I think yes."

Bod shook his head. "No. They use martial arts and intent, combined with blessings. A destructive power."

After a long silence, Thane nodded. "I understand."

Bod looked shocked. "You do?"

"No."

The spear user nearly choked.

"But I think I understand a little."

Bod laughed to himself for explaining so much.

That answer sounded exactly like what he would expect from Thane.

On the battlefield, Etno’s sword flashed once more.

Hodyr answered with a thunderous swing.

The semifinal continued.

And beside the arena, a battered giant silently watched, learning and trying.

Struggling to understand a concept far beyond him.

Yet somewhere deep inside, for the first time, he wanted to learn about martial arts and intent.