Elf-Dwarf Racial Showdown (2)
The third match followed right on the heels of the last. With the score tied at one win apiece, the dwarf stepped into the arena gripping a hefty axe and shield, while his elven opponent wasted no time summoning a spirit.
The elf specialized in wind spirits, wrapping her arrows in gusts to unleash even deadlier shots. The dwarf, meanwhile, simply advanced behind his massive shield, protecting his body as he closed the distance. This human tank of a dwarf relied on his rock-solid defenses to push toward the elf, who toyed with him using her superior mobility and range.
The elf's wind-infused arrows slammed into the metal shield, embedding deep and proving they packed far more than ordinary punch. Yet the dwarf held firm, blocking every one and showcasing his astonishing durability. It was like a long-range light tank dueling a close-quarters medium tank. And the spirit's assaults were no joke either—invisible wind blades scraped across the shield and armor, leaving thin gashes. If he hadn't been clad in iron, those would have been serious wounds.
In the end... the elf fell after exhausting her arrows and mana, unable to topple the dwarf. Even shooting with the fury of someone emptying her quiver, she left his iron shield and armor in tatters, on the verge of shattering. But he endured it all, reaching her at last. She released her bowstring, converting it into a staff for desperate defense... but up close, she stood no chance against the dwarf.
She tried to keep distance with the staff's reach, probing for openings. But the moment he got in range, he ditched the shield, gripped his axe two-handed, and charged. It was the culmination of ages of mockery and oppression—the dwarf unleashing his pent-up rage. The elf swung her staff to parry... but what could a slender stick do? It snapped in two against the axe blade, which then buried itself in her skull.
After the match, they checked injuries on both sides. The elf had barely a scratch, but the dwarf was riddled with holes like Swiss cheese. Huh... even punched full of holes like that, none were fatal for him. Talk about insane durability.
Incidentally, when the elf woke from her knockout, she burst into tears at the sight of her bisected bow. It was the precious weapon she'd received from the sacred tree during her coming-of-age rite—no wonder she sobbed uncontrollably, dignity be damned. She looked so pitiful that fixing her bow was the least I could do. Minor detail, anyway.
With the dwarves now leading 2-1, the fourth match began. A dwarf wielding a heavy warhammer and shield faced off against a lightly armored elf. Wait, no—not just lightly armored. She had a sword at her waist! A proper one-handed blade of decent length! On an elf, no less!
Anyway, the freakish sword-bearing elf versus the warhammer dwarf. The early game played out like the previous bouts: the dwarf tanking arrows as he advanced, the elf kiting and whittling down his defenses from afar. But this time, she held back on spirits, conserving them deliberately. Was she wary of mana drain from overusing them last time? Or saving them for some ulterior motive? What was her plan?
We didn't have to wait long to find out. Even after unleashing every arrow without piercing his guard, she dropped her bow outside the arena and drew her sword—a sharp iron one-hander. In this era, only dwarves could forge something like that... how'd she get it? Bought from a merchant?
She gripped it confidently, assumed a stance, and summoned a fire spirit to infuse the blade. Flames cascaded down its edge. Ah, so she was channeling the spirit into the sword to wield its power. An unconventional approach... but how effective in real combat? I was curious.
The dwarf tossed his shield and hefted the warhammer properly; the elf swung her blazing sword. Metal clashed, sparks flew in a brutal melee. Both took their share of wounds, big and small. But overall armament favored the dwarf—his heavy plate was a massive barrier against the lightly geared elf.
What turned the tide? The elf's swordsmanship. With fluid grace, she parried assaults, then struck at every gap with her flaming blade. Her precise technique targeted only unarmored weak spots, flowing like a dance. Add the secondary burn damage from the spirit seeping into wounds, and the dwarf's muscles began to falter. His swings grew sluggish. He flailed with the hammer in defiance, but she dodged effortlessly and counterattacked. Thus, the sword-wielding oddball elf felled the dwarf, securing a win for her side.
After the fourth match, I healed the duelists while praising their fierce contest. The dwarves were tough, sure, but that sword-swinging elf was something else! I wanted to chat her up more.
"Infusing a spirit into a sword to wield it—quite the oddball elf, aren't you."
"Ever since I first laid eyes on a sword, I was hooked. It's been about 500 years since I took one up."
Five hundred years! No wonder her moves were so refined.
"But why a sword? Arrows... well, wood catching fire would be a hassle."
"Exactly. My contracted spirit is fire, so infusing arrows wasn't feasible. One slip, and boom—the shaft goes up in flames. Then I discovered swords and fell completely."
"Fair point. For an elf, a fire spirit's tricky to handle."
"Started with a well-honed stone blade, progressed to bronze, and now this iron beauty forged by dwarves. Honestly, I'd love to meet the dwarf who made it... but war got in the way."
Dwarven work, as expected. Top-tier for the era.
"In this mess, I've proven my 500 years with the blade weren't wasted. And the spirit-infused sword showed its true might."
"Mm. Masterful swordplay and spirit arts. 'Spirit Sword' wouldn't do it justice—it's that good! Hold your head high!"
"Spirit Sword... nice ring to it. Never named it before, but that fits."
"Mm! Be proud! Among everyone except the Hero, you're the best with a blade!"
The Hero's in a league of his own, obviously.
"Oh? That strong, huh? I'd love a bout."
"Mm. He seems game, so we'll set something up after. Rest up now."
No life-threatening wounds, but she'd taken hammer blows that bruised bone, and her palms were shredded.
With the fourth match's injured treated, the final bout loomed. Dead even at 2-2. The winner here would claim victory for their race.
The elves' last duelist took the stage amid cheers from their side. Their opponent: the dwarven champion, weapon shrouded in cloth on his back, shield in hand.
The elf checked her quiver, glaring daggers. With the Hero's signal as referee, the match began.
As the elf loosed her first arrow, the dwarf slammed his shield into the ground to block, then unveiled his back weapon by shedding the cloth.
A crossbow? A massive one! It fired short javelins like bolts!
A crossbow here?! What the—? Are dwarves just weirdly advanced? Or is this normal timing? Beats me!
Anyway, the dwarf rep had pre-cocked the beast before entering. He propped it on his shield, aimed at the elf, and pulled the trigger. The taut string snapped free, hurling the loaded javelin at blistering speed.
The javelin rocketed toward the elf, incomparable to any arrow in velocity or power.
"Gahk!"
One decisive instant. A brief death rattle. Overkill for a lightly armored elf.
The final duel ended in a flash.