“Schnooob”.

I glared hard at my adversary as he spoke those spiteful words. We circled each other, slow paces, locked in combat. My mind kept repeating the threats in my head…

Loser is bitten by the Neckis. The winner gets to keep the loser’s mesos as well.

I hate how arrogant most boys were. They think that just because they had more strength, they could outplay me. I held my shiny steel Lion’s Fang in guard position with a single hand, circling counter clockwise.

“Hey, leftie. You know that weapons as great as the Lion’s Fang are reserved for skilled ones alone.”

I just grimaced at his insult. His friends however, took this as a chance to attack me verbally. I concentrated, blocking them out.

I didn’t particularly like psychological battles. However, my adversary’s arrogance made him not attack, and he was forcing me to attack first, or drag this battle on, for longer than I could bear.

Finally, after what seemed like days of repetitive circling, I lashed out at him. A quick feint to the left, but bringing it back like lightning to slash at his right side. But I underestimated the speed of his Neocora. In a flash, he brought it, tracing my blade, to his right side, into a parry. It came with so much force, it threw me off balance, and off guard. In an instant, I felt cold steel on my neck.

He just laughed sardonically at me. I felt so tormented, and my cheeks flushed, unable to do anything. He slowly cut a small gash into my neck.

“Winner!”

I got up, humiliated, and dusted myself. When he offered a hand, I just shoved it away. I was in no mood to congratulate his victory, nor accept defeat.

Wordlessly, I handed him my five hundred thousand mesos. He accepted them with another evil, half-smile. That would be the biggest loss in my life.

The Captain, referee and organizer of the duelling events, brought me to the torture platforms. Now, in front of a crowd of the other competitors, a Necki would bite me. I prepared to endure the pain, and I wouldn’t allow them to hear the satisfaction of the only female duellist to cry out. However, my opponent chose an especially large and dangerous Necki, which injected an ample amount of venom into my bloodstream…
I cried out, in utter embarrassment. I ran out, back to my own quarters in an attempt to drown out all the noise. I wouldn’t wait for them to administer an antidote, it isn’t life threatening, anyway. But it would certainly hurt in the weeks to come.

If you only lived a day in my shoes…

You would feel the pain.

How it was so embarrassing to be the weakest, slowest and clumsiest fighter.

Newbies wielding weapons as pathetic as a Bamboo Sword have defeated me.

None of them have the years of experience that I have.

What the hell is wrong with me!!?

I was forced to fight. My parents were both skilled warriors, but they, like a few brave others, perished in the monster raids. However, their name had long since been forgotten, just as their benevolent actions have been.

I wish I was back, safe in my house, and I didn’t have to provide for myself. They left nothing for me, except a magically imbued Lion’s Fang. It was imbued both with enchantments and scrolls. The wielder hardly needed any skill to use it. My parents frequently demonstrated to me the art of using it, how to capitalize on its frightening speed and fatal edge…

Yet I could never master it. I would never be good enough. Maybe, one day…

I closed both my fists tightly around my Lion’s Fang, as I faced yet another competitor. He wielded a dangerously sharp sword, stained with the blood of many. He grinned at me, flashing his werewolfish teeth. I swear, his “fangs” were as deadly as his own sword.

He advanced slowly at me. I could see immediately that he liked to get things going, and quickly. He would stop at nothing to end it quickly, or be defeated. I tried to relax my grip of my Lion’s Fang, and hold it in just one hand, giving me maximum speed.

However, my heart wouldn’t stop beating in fear. I tried as I might to convert my adrenaline rush into a mad, berserker rage, which I would mercilessly swing my blade down on my foe, crushing his very bones…

But when the time came, I was frozen. I don’t know what happened, my body wouldn’t move. He lowered his guard, and looked at me quizzically for a moment. I still couldn’t capitalize and lunge at his unprotected chest, and win the battle. He merely slashed me, which caused my hand to move in a reflex. However, it was still so slow, as if a boulder was crushing me. The blade, swung carelessly with harmless strength somehow found my arm, and drew a small cut. I lost, yet again.

I wanted to kill myself. I couldn’t bear living. It was the end of the world for me. Until I thought of a new strategy. Maybe I could win the psychological war. They already know that I’m a pushover, so they’ll probably underestimate me. I’ll show them!

I spent all my spare time planning. Finally, the day before my next match, I figured out the perfect strategy. I just had to execute it perfectly…

He gripped his exquisitely decorated, gilded Sparta at me, brandishing it menacingly. I had no fear this time, just confidence.

“Hey loser,” he shouted carelessly.

I prepared myself. My strategy couldn’t fail.

I.

Would.

Win.

“NICE DEMI HACKS! REPORT! GM COME BANN!!!”

The accusation stung him, and I could see that he was as shocked as everyone else was. With his guard lowered, I lunged at his unprotected chest. He didn’t have a moment to parry. My blade struck his flesh. But it kept going. Further and further, until it penetrated through his back, and out. Blood was spattered everywhere. Soon, only the hilt of my sword was not inside his now lifeless body.

Everywhere, I heard cries from the audience.

”Cheap shot!”

”Murderer!”

I looked down at my blade, then at his agonized face. He was dead, still shocked.

What have I done…?

[/end]

I know its really crappy and bad. But I have nothing else to do, and I really don’t like writing fanfics. At least when this gets no likes, I won’t be annoyed. I might as well delete this later, as this is so spammy.

I don’t know if I’ll continue my fanfic, either. I write simply to improve my writing, and to prove that I can write better than I do in English class. The fanfic has served it purpose, and I don’t see what else I can write…

Questions, comments, complaints, flames, suggestions, etc. are all welcome.