No Way I'm Losing
A nickname I'd never heard.
Then again, it would have been stranger if I actually knew anyone's. I hadn't exactly avoided the Eternal Battle communities and streams, but they'd never held me. A glance, and I was already past them. Wasn't that the natural reaction? No matter whose footage I put on, none of it felt better than me. It did nothing for my skill, and the variety broadcasts—maybe because they were all struggles to survive—never really landed. If anything, content that had nothing to do with the game drew my eye more than Eternal Battle videos ever did.
Well. Enough rambling. It was time to pick a weapon.
What would they choose? Ordinarily you look at the other weapon and lock in second; that is much more favorable. Last match, the instant I took dual daggers, my opponent grabbed the counter and went crossbow. Of course, when the gap in skill is overwhelming, none of that matters. I was about to choose without bothering to feel them out—but they moved first, one step ahead of me.
A one-handed sword. The weapon people call melee at its most fundamental. No real gimmick to speak of, and in its place a smooth hexagon of a statline with no sharp edges—the sort of sleeper you could call a hidden gem. Planting a sword pick like that. A specialist?
Interest stirred. If I felt like it, I could take the hardest counter and make their life miserable. You don't do that to a player overflowing with romance. I chose with not a shred of hesitation.
A two-handed sword. A plain greatsword to match the plain name, and a steady seller among melee weapons—the satisfying weight of one heavy hit always keeps the pick rate comfortably above the middle. The matchup was workable for both of us. Unlike the last round, neither side held a crushing edge. Fair to say proficiency would decide it. It would not play out the way that last fight had. If they had even a little skill to back the pick, this could be fun.
I pressed the feeling down on purpose. Get your hopes up for nothing, and the disappointment only hits harder.
An out-of-nowhere chat. The content, though, I had no choice but to agree with. My nickname carries a very profound meaning: a fervent hymn to Sua's jjamppong. A masterpiece, you could say, that tore through the dimensions and reached the realm of the gods.
The moment we were both ready, the map was decided at random. A clearing in the ruins—Ruins Clearing, a map built on the Ruined City. No special variables. A stage made for nothing but skill. We faced each other there, held for a breath, and the countdown began.
The fight had started, and still neither of us moved rashly. Feeling it out? With these weapons, mobility had to favor them, if only by a little. My edge was the same as always: range. I put the two-handed sword's superior reach to work and laid in a steady harass.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
Offer a sliver of an opening and cut only air, and they can't just charge in blind. Keep it up, though, and my stamina dies first. The pressure was nothing but a trick to lure them into dropping their guard. The moment they grew used to the pattern, I changed the movement—a step into a slide, scraping the ground, closing fast.
They reacted sharper than I'd expected, reading the low attack and answering at once. I planted the greatsword in the earth and kicked off into the air. A flexible motion, and a kick aimed at the chin. In this bracket, no one reacts to that combo. The inputs are too tangled to begin with; it's a two-handed-sword string that barely sees real matches. It should have been that way.
They raised their guard, perfectly calm, and blocked it.
"...Ha."
A hollow laugh slipped out of me. Unbelievable. What was that—luck, or skill? Either way, it was absurd. Still, I hoped it was the latter. If a blow I'd committed to had been stuffed by something as cheap as coincidence, I was going to be furious.
I decided to get a little more serious. I swept the greatsword in a wide arc at their head. They ducked, the blade missing by a breath, and even went for a counter. I turned a full circle and slipped the thrust coming straight at me, and I didn't stop there. The spin's momentum carried me back in. Their attack motion still wasn't finished. One foot was stretched out, so they couldn't move yet.
This had to hit.
Shk.
Right. There was that. The one-handed sword's Weapon Skill is Evade. For the brief instant the skill is live, every point of damage is ignored. It sits near Parry, and apart from it. Parry isn't a Weapon Skill—anyone can use it—but it only stops ranged rounds. Evade, in theory, can avoid every attack there is.
Hear the description and there isn't a more broken skill. Look at the reality and the story changes. The difficulty is high enough to stand beside Parry, the window is a very short half-second, and unlike Parry it has a cooldown, so it isn't always available. Use it anywhere but a truly golden timing and it's nothing but a crowd-control effect that locks down your own actions. Not a tool you spend in a bracket this low.
"...This is fun."
It really was. Interest surged. An alt account? The odds were very high. Their understanding of duels, especially, looked extremely deep. Maybe not a battle royale player at all—a freak who lived in the Duel Arena and nowhere else. Even the hunger that had been nagging me was gone. Right now I wanted to sink completely into this game.
The first worthy rival I'd met since returning to the modern world. Someone genuinely worth facing.
I used a taunt. My character flicked a hand and flashed an arrogant smile, and they answered with the same taunt.
Now.
No one had to call it. We charged at the same time. Eyes wide, I read the shift of their muscles and predicted the next action from the motion. A low attack. I jumped at once and drove the greatsword down. They answered immediately, pulling back and firing a straight punch. This time neither of us dodged, so both of us lost health. Naturally I came out ahead—I'd hit with a sword.
But the punch had left me still hanging in the air. You can't step up there, so your position locks, and that is a very dangerous state. Fine. Skills still work in the air. My character thrust both arms straight out and started to spin.
Whirlwind. The two-handed sword's Weapon Skill. Players call it the spinning top, and it does not get a good reputation. Melee's greatest weakness always begins with range—how hard it is to answer ranged weapons. So most melee Weapon Skills exist as the one means of offsetting that weakness. The dual daggers' dash. The one-handed sword's Evade. The two-handed sword's spinning top does none of it. The range doesn't grow, you can't close, and you gain no resistance to ranged attacks. You just spin like a top. So no matter how solid the weapon feels, no matter how good the hits are, the skill is forever treated as a joke.
But only when you're fighting ranged. Melee against melee is a different story. Whatever else it lacks, the damage is certain, so while you're spinning they can't step in carelessly. I, on the other hand, can close whenever I want. Contrary to its reputation, against melee it's a perfectly good skill. Just hold it, and they have no choice but to stare and give ground.
The mockery, of course, you just take. What mattered was that proper use of the skill had walked them into the corner. I canceled it at once and swung the greatsword at an enemy with nowhere to run. They had no choice but to meet the attack. A few fierce exchanges, and the advantage slowly started coming my way. A two-handed sword's base damage is high. In a brainless frontal fight, there is no reason to lose to a one-hander. I focused on the head, and their helmet started to come apart.
There. One more hit and this is over.
"Your order's ready."
That single line from beside me broke my focus for an instant. They didn't miss the tiny opening. The counter came at once. I locked back in and answered, but the flow of momentum I'd already lost was clenched tight in their grip.
A clean thrust. It sank dead into my chest, and my health sheared away. That wasn't all. The armor on my upper body was destroyed.
This is a system that belongs to the Duel Arena alone. Armor break. Take massive damage in a single hit, and the piece shatters. The problem isn't only the drop in defense. The set bonus vanishes with it. The moment even one piece breaks, a gap opens between you, and the balance collapses. Armor break is what decides a match's sudden tilt.
"Yes. Please just leave it."
"Sure. Enjoy your meal."
Of all the timings. I didn't blame the part-timer. In the end, if you want to win, you have to swallow outside variables like this. Across a hundred battlefields I had eaten far worse luck. Even so, I didn't give up. That is why I had survived this long and made it back in one piece. As if I would accept defeat over something this small.
The match wasn't over. With the mindset of never losing, I gathered myself again.
The fight went on. A joy I hadn't felt in a long time. Adrenaline climbed, and the longer we fought, the more precise it became, the more beautiful. One palm doesn't make a sound. Right then I could have sworn it on everything I had: the user matching me blow for blow, the one named Yukino, was a player who ranked among the best in the world.
Our fight continued.
And the winner, at the end of it, was...