The Master of Uradan

While Rohan and Deidros were talking, the climax at the center of the two clans had reached a new peak.

The two fighters were now facing each other, ready to fight at the orders of their leader. The man fighting for the Greybat clan looked the last time behind him. The old clan chief nodded his head.

Further away, his son was looking at him with a blank expression and tears on his cheeks. The man weakly smiled at his son. At least he would be the next hope for his clan. He was young, but he was the only rank 1 Beginner Warrior that the clan had successfully made in decades.

He would die today, and he knew it. But that wasn't a problem. His clan would lose a few resources, but that wasn't a problem either. In the end, they could only grow back. His son could only grow, and maybe even become more powerful.

One day maybe, his clan would be one of the most powerful ones of the exterior ring. He wasn't even daring to think about the clans residing in the internal ring, or the four great clans living beside the Kolmos mountain.

He chased away these ridiculous thoughts and gazed at the warrior standing in front of him. He was only a rank 1 Beginner Warrior, but he knew that he would have no chance to win against him. Their physique was too far apart from each other, and that was enough to outclass him in everything.

But even so, he wouldn't give up like that. He was a good fighter, one of the best of their clan. He would fight till the end and die for his clan. He squeezed the spear he had in his hand.

His opponent leisurely drew his sword as if he wasn't going to fight in a few seconds, but just to cut some vegetables. Their eyes were locked in each other. The scornful expression of the warrior had disappeared, and the eyes of a true warrior replaced them. They were both members of a clan.

One will die, and everyone knew who it was. But even so, respect was to be given to this man braving death for his clan. There was no pity in a duel opposing two clans. There was only a winner and a dead body.

Under the acclamation of the spectators, excited for some and mournful for the other, the fight began.

The man with the spear took the initiative and rushed forward. He thrust his weapon on the left and the right while running at full speed. He leaped to the side to follow with a powerful kick, before he aimed the waist of his opponent with the blade of his spear. But all of that was for naught.

It wasn't like the fight between Rohan and the other fighters, where the warrior was doing his best to restrain his force. The rank 1 Beginner Warrior let all his strength explode. He let his inhuman speed take the ascendant. He let his reflexes control his body.

He easily parried the first two blows, as if he was only chasing away a fly. With a single sidestep, he evaded the kick. And with apparent ease, he caught the spear with his left hand before it could slash him.

The fighter, seeing his spear being caught at the junction of the blade and the wooden part, felt a bad omen. He didn't try to take back his weapon, as it would be pointless to compete with strength against a warrior.

Instead, he decided to advance. He threw his body forward. In front of the blade that was coming his way with an unbelievable speed, he let go of his spear and slid against the rocky ground. The rocks tore open his leather clothes and blood rested behind his path, but he didn't care.

Arriving in front of the warrior at high speed, he pushed his body with his hands, bent his shoulders, and stomped the ground. All his muscles were contracted. His heart exploded in his chest as his blood was rushing in his veins. The man used all he had in this blow. All his strength, all his energy. It was his only way to have the slightest chance to win.

His left shoulder collided against the chest of the warrior with a terrible choc. The warrior, with his sword in his right hand, and the spear still in his left one, spit some saliva under this powerful blow. He didn't have the time to defend, and he hadn't seen such an attack coming.

He was forced to take a few steps back, but other than the pain, that was all. He hadn't suffered any injury. Only his pride was left with a small wound, as this normal warrior had succeeded to hit him, and even pushing him. But it wasn't enough to win, and they both knew it.

As his foot landed on the ground, the warrior took the initiative and delivered an attack with his sword. His sword cleaved from up to down, slashing through the air at great speed. but under the bemused shouts of the crowd, the fighter of the Greybat clan threw himself on the ground and managed to dodge the sharp blade at the last moment.

He rolled on the ground before he stood up again. His right leg was bloody as he struggled a bit to stand up. His left arm pointed to the ground in front of him, while his right one was slightly hidden behind him. He seemed to be seriously wounded.

The warrior nodded his head at him and threw away the spear to the side. The fight was nearly finished, now it was only the last part. He walked toward the weak fighter panting from exhaustion. He had successfully hit him with a powerful blow, this man was without a doubt a great fighter. If he was himself a warrior, the result would have been different. But fairness didn't exist in the Barren Lands. Fairness didn't exist in this world.

Reaching the man, he slashed with his sword, intending to put an end to the duel. The man, without any weapons in his hand, smiled as he saw death approaching him.

"I am Kirek, from the Greybat clan! Remember my name, you fool!" His bellows filled the whole arena, and as the blade reached his body, the man rushed himself against it.

The sharp blade entered his body as if it was cleaving through the water. It sank at the base of the neck and continued to go down toward the waist. Not even his bones could resist the descent of this blade coupled with terrible strength. But as the sword was going to cut him clean into two halves, the man used the last strength he had.

He ignored the pain, he forgot the death that was approaching, and he threw his right arm against his opponent with a large gesture. The warrior only had time to see the hand of the man descending from the sky. He widened his eyes. This hand, holding a hard rock, smashed his face with powerful might.

The warrior was sent against the ground and blood and pieces of teeth burst from his mouth. Silence prevailed as everyone was watching with widened eyes. From the Blackwolf clan or the Greybat clan, everyone had the same expression.

The warrior was on his four, stunned by the blow. The man, a normal fighter, fell to the ground with the blade still inside. His body was nearly cut in halves, blood was painting the rocks and his organs and guts were all around him.

The result was the same as everyone had thought. The warrior had won, and the other man was now dead. But even so, Darias wasn't in a hurry to affirm his clan's victory. Respect for the strong was always to be held. And this man was strong.

Rohan had the same face as everyone as he looked at the dead body lying under the sun. He suddenly turned his face to the side to look in front of him, where a young man was also watching. His fists were tight. Tears were flowing down.

A ridiculous thought appeared in his mind as he watched this man trying to control his rage.. This unknown young warrior, was from today onward quite the same as himself.