The Guild District’s training plaza could compete with the Market District’s main center in size. There were nine, large dueling circles and almost all had occupants sparring fiercely in them. All except the one that Ancient World claimed for their duel.

Standing on one side was Curt and the rest of Point Blank. Which meant just five people. On Ancient World’s side, there were at least twenty crowding there. Talmander was the most noticeable, whether it was his sheer size or the intimidating presence he had around him.

“Before we begin, I want to verify that we all agree to the terms of the duel,” Talmander said.

“If we win, you give us Mahku’s pardon and drop outta the tourney,” Otto said. “We lose, we disband. That’s it, yeah? Let’s hurry this up then. We got more recruitin’ to do after this.”

Despite his casual tone, when Otto heard that they had bet the guild’s existence on the duel he blew up at them, particularly Xujen who was the one who had suggested the whole thing. Sometime over the course of the prep day and a few trips to local bars, Otto finally seemed to have accepted the fact that all his work hinged on the results of this duel.

“Very well,” Talmander nodded. “Then let us choose our fighter for the first round.”

Xujen stepped into the ring before any one could react. Well, it wasn’t like Point Blank had much choice in fighters anyways. Bauph and Otto already said they wouldn’t be fighting in the duel yesterday. Although in Otto’s case, he said fighting in an unofficial duel was unseemly for a guild leader.

Entering the ring from Ancient World’s side was a man about the same height as Xujen. He looked fairly ordinary with his brown hair and plain face. Strapped on his back was a greatsword: a heavy, two-hander that was as tall as he was and just as wide. Curt wondered how a guy could even swing something like that around.

The judge for their duel nodded as both contestants took their places. Curt had never seen the woman before, but she had introduced herself as Syara, the guild leader of a B-rank guild called Expedition. According to Otto, Expedition had a reputation of being an upstanding guild. Behind her stood two Holy Order healers, one on each side of the ring.

According to Bauph, they were there to maintain the False Life Circle inscribed into the fighting ring. Apparently wounds inflicted inside the circle were completely healed when a person left it. Only instant death couldn’t be reversed. Curt found it hard to believe magic like that even existed. Bauph did mention that it wasn’t normal magic. Most healing spells and the like were classified as “miracles”, because they were powers granted through the Stars. Either way, Curt thought it was pretty nifty. If such a thing existed back up in the Dusts, a lot of death could’ve been avoided.

“Let me go over the rules quickly before we begin,” Syara said as she took her place just outside of the ring. “First and foremost, no killing. Doing so results in your guilds’ forfeiture. Leaving the ring, surrendering, or being incapacitated for longer than several seconds count as losses. No outside assistance is allowed, including enhancement magic cast by someone else.”

She looked between the two fighters before her. Both were staring straight at each other, unblinking. Xujen’s hand lightly rested over his sword, but it wasn’t drawn yet. His foe had removed the sword that was strapped to his back, and held it with both hands, the tip of the blade resting on the ground.

“Announce your fighters for the first round,” Syara said.

“Xujen Suraiza, from Point Blank,” Otto said.

“Ezekiel Gen, from Ancient World,” Talmander said as well. Curt wondered if the scarred guild leader would fight. If he was, it’d probably be for the last round.

Syara raised her arm, holding it there for a moment before dropping it. “Round one, begin!”

Curt blinked and the next thing he knew the two were already clashing with their swords. Curt was surprised to see the ease of which Ezekiel swung his ridiculously sized sword. The greatsword could’ve been a simple kitchen knife at the speed he swept the blade around.

Xujen’s thin blade was somehow deflecting each and every one of Ezekiel’s blows, and the sound of metal on metal rang out in the training plaza. The ferocity of their strikes began to draw a crowd around their ring, as others stopped sparring to watch.

The two’s swords locked together once more. Each man straining to not get shoved back. With a mighty grunt, Ezekiel forcefully pushed forward using the weight of his greatsword to his advantage. Xujen leapt backwards, avoiding getting cleaved in half. As his foot landed, he launched back at Ezekiel.

Ezekiel was too slow in lifting his heavy sword to completely block Xujen’s attack. The edge of Shrieking Vapor brushed against Ezekiel’s shoulder, covering it in frost. The two men backed off after the exchange, facing each other as they circled the edge of the ring.

Everyone’s breath seemed to be held during the lapse in action. The duel now had a sizable audience as most of the other users of the training plaza gathered around. Curt could catch snippets of whispered conversation around him.

“Whoa, a guild duel’s going on.”

“Looks intense.”

“That’s Ancient World, isn’t it? Surprised to see them in a duel.”

“What guild is the other guy from? Never seen him before.”

Ezekiel charged forward. He swung his sword overhead, attempting to smash Xujen’s guard with the full weight. The stiff ice padding his shoulder made the swing clumsy, and Xujen easily sidestepped the swing.

But Ezekiel wasn’t done yet. Twisting his body, he somehow swung the greatsword a second time. A shield of ice materialized in front of Xujen, shattering as the sword swung into it. But it bought him enough time. Xujen was in the air. He brought Shrieking Vapor down, hilt first, into Ezekiel.

Curt thought it was over. But Ezekiel turned causing the hilt to hit the ice on his shoulder. Xujen’s hilt slid off, knocking him off balance. Ezekiel’s sword flared orange as he swung at Xujen faster than Curt thought possible. There was no way Xujen would be able to dodge the strike.

The greatsword crashed into Xujen. It looked like Xujen had splintered into a million pieces, but that was impossible. Humans didn’t break like glass. Ezekiel froze, figuratively. As the icy doppelgänger turned to mist, the real Xujen stood behind Ezekiel with his blade pointed at the man’s throat.

“First round goes to Point Blank,” Syara declared.

“That guy just beat Ancient World’s Ezekiel!”

“Who are they?”

“I’ve never heard of a guild called Point Blank before.”

The crowd began to chatter noisily now that the fight was over. Xujen sheathed Shrieking Vapor and outstretched his hand toward Ezekiel. Ezekiel swung his mighty greatsword over his shoulder like it weighed nothing, and shook Xujen’s hand.

“It was a good fight,” Xujen said. “We should spar again someday.”

Ezekiel nodded. “Agreed. Talmander’s advice not to underestimate you guys was right.”

Curt turned to Tera who had watched the match intently. She seemed to hold new respect for Xujen now that she saw he was no push over.

“What was that orange glow that Ezekiel guy did?” Curt asked her. Other than that brief flash of light, he didn’t see anything magical from Ezekiel. Unlike Xujen, who pulled off some fancy ice magic tricks.

“I’m guessing Ezekiel’s an augmentation magic type,” Tera explained. “Pretty common type. It’s what lets him swing that sword around like it’s nothing. That orange glow is when he focused most of his energy into that swing.”

Before Curt could ask Tera more about types of magic, Syara’s voice rang out, “Announce the next round’s fighters.”

Curt began to step forward, but Tera grabbed hold his arm, pulling him back. She stared at him, her expression serious.

“Are you sure, Curt? I could go now.”

“No way, I didn’t go through a hellish day of training for nothing,” Curt said, tugging his arm free. He definitely didn’t want to be sidelined for this. Sure, the fact that there was an audience now made him anxious, but still. He had to know if he could fight down here. What better chance than against some A-rank guild?

Tera was still looking at him with concern. “Look, I’ll tap out if things look bad, alright? I promised Mahku I’d do that much,” Curt said.

Tera’s face softened a bit, but he could tell she still thought it was a bad idea. “Fine. Good luck then, Curt.”

He nodded and continued forward. He became acutely aware of all the curious stares on him as he entered the ring. Whispers questioning who he was and what his weapons were floated around the crowd. This was it. This was his chance to prove that he wasn’t worthless in Sanora, even with a faulty mana center.

Coming forward from Ancient World was a familiar, scrawny looking man. It was the man who had rudely greeted them at Ancient World’s headquarters. He was wearing decorative looking robes and carried a metal staff with him this time. Pushing up his glasses, he stared at Curt with distaste.

“I can’t believe Ezekiel lost to the likes of your guild,” the thin man said. “No matter. I’ll make quick work of you.”

“Announce your fighters,” Syara shouted, preventing Curt from retorting.

“Curt of Ore Town, from Point Blank,” Otto called out.

“Quentin Thomas, from Ancient World,” Talmander announced.

Syara began to raise her arm. Curt tried to recall what Mahku had said about facing a caster. If he was remembering right, Mahku said that fighting against a mage would be Curt’s worst match up.

“Casters are great at manipulating and projecting their mana,” Mahku had said. “If you’re up against an A-rank caster — and pray that you won’t be — you’ll have to dodge every attack, no matter how small and weak-seeming. There’s on way at your level you’d be able to block. Not only that, your bullets will be practically useless. Most casters have some form of mana shield they’ll deploy around them, and frankly your shots aren’t strong enough to pierce through them.”

Great. If there was no point in blocking any spells, then all those pebbles were thrown at him for nothing. His hands hovered over his holsters. His best shot at winning now was the moment the round started. If he managed to get the shots off before the shield was up, victory was his. It’d be pretty sweet to dispatch Quentin within seconds of the round starting. He’d love to see the look on the condescending prick’s face. Curt could already imagine the crowd’s stunned silence. Otto would be proud too. He was always talking about showing off Duster gunslinging.

Syara’s hand was raised. Quentin was glaring at Curt, holding his staff in front of him. Curt mentally went through the motions of draw, aim, and fire. Two rapid shots. One at each of foe’s hands.

Her hand went down. “Round two, begin!”