A palpable tension hung over Rul, a sense of impending doom that seemed to almost choke the air from the city and its populace. This wasn’t the Rul that Hector remembered. Back when he’d left the strange, creepy facility where he’d found himself without explanation, he’d wandered the hills at the foot of the mountains, unsure about where to go or what to do. It was then when he’d run across a Gustilian patrol and been taken to the nearest city — Rul. The Rul of his memories was a lively one, where the streets were filled with vendors hawking their wares, children frolicking, and a wide selection of comely lasses busy going about their days. Those people were gone. Everybody with the means to leave had left, leaving only the desperate and destitute behind. Not to say that the city was a ghost town now; thousands of people still walked the streets everywhere he looked. But those people all sported weapons in hand and a grim look in their eyes. This was a city waiting to fight. Waiting to die. It annoyed him, frankly. He was never the type to fall into such a malaise. If you had time to mope, you had time to do something about it.

Hector made his way through the crowd, his head high and his eyes proud. People parted as he passed, some because they recognized him, others because of the wide berth needed to avoid his enormous backpack. Over a dozen weapons poked out in various directions from the overstuffed pack. He’d brought everything he thought he’d need down from Nefin, including a battle axe, a polearm, two swords, a dozen daggers, an oversized bow, and a crossbow large enough that it bordered on qualifying as a ballista. If he could carry it all, why not bring it all?

A wry grin grew on his face as soldiers noticed him as he passed, his ears picking up whispers of admiration and awe. In only half a year he was already famous amongst the military. Soon all of Gustil would know his name, then all of the continent of Nocend, then all of Scyria! Nothing would stop his rise! Not even some bullshit invasion! He’d beat down the entire Ubran Empire if that was what it took!

Soon he arrived at the Gustilian Army’s makeshift headquarters, a repurposed mansion on the eastern side of the city. The army already had several stations around Rul, but those were meant for the city’s usual garrison and couldn’t accommodate the magnitude of the current force’s command structure. That and the fact that a certain person would be arriving later that day, which meant certain luxury requirements needed to be met.

The guards let him pass with little more than a flash of his captain’s badge. They knew who he was and why he was here. Taking his sweet time, he walked along the path through a series of immaculate flower gardens filled with statues of what looked to be mighty heroes of Gustil. He smiled. Soon they’d be making statues of him.

The mansion itself stood tall and proud in the center of the grounds. Looking at the lavish exterior, Hector wondered as to whom this place belonged. Whoever it was, they sure had deep pockets. The first thing his eyes were drawn to was not the gold and platinum embedded in the walls, nor the wide, opulent double door that served at the main entrance to the abode. No, it was the windows. The clear glass windows. He could count the number of times he’d seen glass windows in this world on one hand. Given that people could control fire and stone with their minds here, he’d thought that something like glass would have been a fairly common thing, but no. Clear glass was still an exorbitantly expensive material, especially pieces large enough to work as window panes.

Extravagance characterized the inside as well. Golden candelabras dotted the entrance hall. Rugs made of animal pelts lined the halls. Large portraits of various people hung on nearly every wall. Everything here felt like an exercise in wasteful overcompensation, and Hector was totally down for it. If you have the goods, you have to flaunt them.

“Captain Miranda?” asked a disbelieving voice. Hector looked over to find a face he recognized — standing in the hallway was the head aide for one of the generals he’d met before. Hector couldn’t recall the man’s name; admittedly, he had probably never bothered to ask.

“Hey, where are the big boys?” Hector asked with an acknowledging nod.

“The... generals are currently preparing a battle plan to present to the king upon his arrival.”

“Cool, take me there.”

The man paused, as if considering whether to honor Hector’s request. “Leave your weapons here,” the aide said after a moment of consideration. He called to a younger man who was walking through the entrance hall at that moment. “Jeaston, take the Storm’s weapons to the armory.”

Hector couldn’t help but grin. Technically, as the right hand of a general, the aide outranked Hector by a number of ranks, but only one of the two of them was the new star of the Gustilian army. Fame could get you anywhere.

“Have fun, kid,” Hector said as he removed his pack and dropped it strap-first into Jeaston’s hands. The younger soldier nearly buckled over under the weight. Hector snickered as Jeaston staggered comically off in the opposite direction.

Following the aide, Hector soon found himself outside a large room. Two voices could be heard arguing on the other side of the wall. The aide entered the room to inform the generals of Hector’s arrival, then waived him in.

“Captain Hector Miranda, reporting as ordered,” Hector said as he walked in to the stunned faces of two generals and seven of their aides.

Standing on one side of a large round table was a large man. Broad-shouldered and square-jawed, General Ediz Bayrak seemed to personify the quintessential old soldier. The general in charge of protecting Rul, he wore the scars of battle proudly, from his multitude of scars to his three missing fingers on his left hand. A battle junkie through and through, he had become one of Hector’s greatest supporters as soon as he’d seen Hector’s skills.

Across the table stood General Oren Aldemir, one of the top three generals in Gustil and the general in charge of the southwestern third of the country. A tall woman, who looked to be in her mid thirties, she stared at Hector with a single piercing, hawk-like eye, an eyepatch covering the other. Frizzy magenta hair dropped down in a scattered mess around her shoulders. She sported a decent figure, with two perky C-cups visible beneath her tunic. Not much of a rear end, however, and the eyepatch was a major bummer. A six. Okay, a seven, but only because Hector found powerful women sexy.

“Captain Miranda,” General Aldemir said, shock in her voice, “I thought you were currently stationed in Nefin. Was I misinformed?”

“No, I was just there.”

“Are you saying that it took you two whole days to travel here from Nefin?” Bayrak inquired, astonishment in his voice as well.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Hector replied. “I ended up getting lost. Took a few wrong turns.”

“A few wrong turns, you say?” the man chuckled. “Come, approach the map. Perhaps you can help settle this argument we are having. You see-”

Before General Bayrak could finish his explanation, a man in an ornate uniform entered the room. “His Highness Hamza Adivar, King of Gustil, Victor of the Eighteenth War of Election, has arrived!” the man called out to the assembled people.

Suddenly everybody stood up straight, the somewhat relaxed atmosphere in the room replaced by a stiff formality. Hector hurriedly backed off to the side to make way for the king and his attendants. A moment later they entered the room. First came three members of the King’s Guard — a large man with a sword on his hip, his hand always near the hilt; a smaller woman with a bandolier filled with large needles strapped across her chest, and a rather nondescript older man who didn’t seem to have any weapons on him. All three guards eyed the room and the people in it with watchful, suspicious gazes. Hector couldn’t help but notice that each of their gazes settled on him for a much longer duration than they did on anybody else.

Following the three guards came a middle-aged man with a strong, bushy beard — King Hamza Adivar himself. The king wore a suit of armor unlike any that Hector had seen before. Hundreds of finely detailed engravings on the chest plate and the shield told the story of the man’s triumphs in the last election war, though the scratches in the armor told a better one. King Adivar was not a man who wore impressive armor and stood in the back as others died in his name. This was a man who was not afraid to put his life on the line. Hector respected that.

Finally, following the king came another two guards and a mildly obese man that Hector had never seen before. Like the other three, these last two guards seemed deadly serious about their duty of protecting the king. Almost as one, everybody who had been in the chamber prior to the king’s arrival brought their two fists up to their chests, the customary Gustilian salute.

“Your Highness,” General Aldemir greeted, “I hope your journey here was pleasant.”

“About as pleasant as any travel can be at such a pace,” the king replied. “It is good that I was hunting just a few days away. I do not think these old bones could handle another ten days of such hard riding.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The king waved dismissively at his general. “Let us forgo formalities for now. There is far too much to deal with and not enough time to deal with it. I hope you have been able to come up with a good plan of attack while I was on the road.”

“We have several,” the tall woman replied. “However, there are many details that are still up in the air given how little we know about the situation.”

“Sorry to interrupt you, General Aldemir,” said the heavyset man by the king’s side, “but is it such a good idea to discuss strategy in the company of a newcomer?” He gestured towards Hector.

This time General Bayrak spoke up. “Adviser Ilyata, Captain Miranda is the most capable soldier that we have. Possibly the greatest warrior on the continent. While he is simply here because he arrived earlier than expected, I see no reason why his presence should be questioned.”

“No reason?” Adviser Ilyata replied. “Why just a year ago nobody knew this man existed. We don’t know where he’s from, his background, or how he arrived in Gustil. How can you so willingly trust a man that could easily be an Ubran spy? This invasion was not a whim. The Ubrans have been planting as many seeds as they could for a long time, preparing for this day. And you want to believe a man without a history?”

“My adviser makes a solid point,” the king stated. He took several steps towards Hector, a twinkle in his eye. “Captain Miranda, was it? I must say, as impressive as I found you watching the tournament through the Many, you are far more impressive in person. Tell me, Captain, how do we know you are not an agent of the enemy?”

Hector flashed a wicked grin. “It’s simple. If I were an enemy agent, the single greatest thing I could do to hurt your side would be to assassinate everybody in this room, right now. And I can.” All five members of the King’s Guard tensed at his words, but he ignored them. “I have no weapons on me and I’m wearing no armor, but even now I can kill you all without breaking a sweat. Not even all of you combined would be able to stop me. If I were a secret Ubran, you wouldn’t be asking me this question because you’d already be dead.”

The king stared Hector in the eyes for a second before throwing his head back and unleashing a series of mighty guffaws. His bodyguards relaxed slightly. “Well if that isn’t a compelling argument, I don’t know what is,” he chortled. “Now general, I believe you were saying?”

The general let out an awkward cough before regaining his poise. “Yes, Your Highness. We have a series of battle plans drawn up, but various unknown factors have made it hard for us to determine which is the best course of action. The two most important unknowns are the size of the Ubran force that has made it through the pass into Nocend and both the size of the incoming Eterian reinforcements and just when they will arrive.”

“The Eterians contacted me this morning. They will arrive in five days with a force seventy-five thousand strong, with more coming as quickly as they can send them. I will have my Eterian Many transferred to you for the time being.”

“I see. Thank you, Your Grace.” General Aldemir stroked the side of her eyepatch in thought.

“What about the other nearby countries?” Hector asked. “Are they not sending troops?”

The faces of everybody around the table grew dark.

“It seems that honor is a rare thing in this world,” the king sighed. “The elves have betrayed us. They care only for themselves. The Stragmans have fallen for what I can only believe to be an Ubran plot to destabilize their country. We will get no help from them either. We should consider ourselves lucky that Kutrad is willing to uphold their end of the bargain.”

“This battle would have been a challenge even with the help of the others,” General Bayrak said, “but it will be downright impossible if we cannot get a good idea of just what the Empire can bring to bear against us. We need better information on their strength, and we need it now.”

“What have our scouts been able to tell us?” the king inquired.

“Not much, sadly,” the general replied. “The Ubrans have set up a very strong perimeter and are patrolling with great numbers. Those that have returned report they are unable to get close enough to properly assess the Empire’s capabilities. Those that tried... have not returned.”

“Let me go,” Hector suggested. “I can get deep enough to find out what you need to know.”

“No,” the king answered, “we cannot risk our best warriors, and we cannot have you out of reach for so long at such a critical juncture.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine and I’ll be back by midday tomorrow.”

“By midday tomorrow?” Adviser Ilyata scoffed. “You cannot be trusted with such a task if you don’t even understand how long it takes to travel to the Divide. It would take two days at full speed on a vekkel just to get there.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Adviser,” chuckled General Bayrak. “The captain just arrived from Nefin. He made the trip in two days.”

“T-two days?!” the adviser cried. “Impossible! That journey takes our fastest riders seven days!”

The king laughed heartily. “Young man, you continue to surprise me,” he said to Hector. “It is good that you are here, for the more I learn about you, the more I feel like we still have a hope of victory. Very well. I am convinced. Go and get us the knowledge we require.”

Hector saluted and left the room with a smile.
***
A cold wind blew through Hector’s hair as he squatted behind a rock and peered down into the valley below. He frowned. That was a lot of people down there. Easily over two hundred thousand. And even more were on their way. Squinting at the far side of the camp, he counted as, one by one, more and more soldiers entered the camp. It looked like they were coming in at a rate of about one person every second.

That turned into how many new people a day? He puzzled over the question for several minutes. Math had never been his strong suit. Eventually he settled on an estimate of fifty thousand people descending from the Divide every day, assuming that they only moved during the day. And they would, he believed. He’d taken the path up to Redwater Castle; it wasn’t something you traveled in the dark unless you wanted to fall to your death.

A soft whizzing sound caught Hector’s attention. His right hand shot up to pluck an arrow from the air. They’d found him. For a moment he considered staying and kicking some ass, but decided against it. What was the point if there was nobody around to see it?
***
Three hundred thousand men and women marched west, their faces set with a grim resolve. The sum total of every available man and woman in Gustil able to arrive in Rul in time, along with the early Eterian force that had arrived yesterday, they represented the hopes of everyone in Gustil and beyond. Theirs was a herculean task — to hold off a force likely twice their size and bottled them up against the jagged cliffs of the Divide until reinforcements could arrive. That, or perhaps to even rout them all together, wiping them out before pushing into the pass and taking back Redwater Castle.

The odds of success were slim, but onward they marched regardless, their steps sending small tremors through the hardening earth. As if sharing their sentiments, Old Man Winter had decided to finally assert himself these last few days, sending the temperature plummeting towards freezing. According to Hector’s understanding of the weather in Scyria, it never got quite as hot or cold as it did on Earth. There was variance, sure, but overall the winters were warmer and the summers cooler than they would be back home. It was still cold.

A lone horn sounded off in the distance. Contact already? Last they knew, the enemy had yet to leave its foothold on the edge of the mountains, and they were still several hours march away from there. Hector looked out over the horizon to see a squad of vekkel-riding scouts making their way back to the main force. Quickly they dismounted and reported to the central command, after which orders began flying left and right.

The army fanned out, deploying atop a nearby ridge in three large divisions. Hector was placed in the central division. He idled in the back, waiting for the enemy to appear. His orders were simple. First, he was to observe from the rear for a short time, find the most dangerous and deadly enemy warriors, and then carve a path of death and destruction towards and through them. In this world where one elite soldier could be worth a hundred lesser men, this would serve to dull the Ubrans’ numeric advantage the most efficiently, as well as deal a severe blow to their morale. Then, once the Empire’s best and brightest were no more, it would be time to go wild. General Aldemir liked to say that a battle between armies was really decided by a multitude of smaller battles across the battlefield. If he could win all his battles, victory would still be possible.

The valley before them, known as the Moro Valley, was fairly flat and plain as far as valleys in the area went. The ground sloped gently down towards a small stream before rising back up on the other side to a ridge similar to the one he stood upon. A few shrubs and bushes dotted the area, but only a handful of trees stood within view. It was largely a wide, clear area — perfect for a good fight.

A hush fell over the army as the first Ubran poked his head over the ridge across from them. Then another came into view, and another, and then suddenly thousands all at once. Hector heard muttering from nearby soldiers as the more and more Ubran troops crested the ridge.

“Draw your weapons!” shouted General Aldemir. “Steel your courage! This is for your children! This is for your homes! This is for Gustil! We will stand tall! Advance!”

The troops shouted out their resolve as they readied their weapons and began to descend into the valley. On the other side, the Ubrans did the same. Slowly the two sides approached one another, the troops slowly picking up speed until the two armies seemed to literally slam into each other and became a wild mess of flesh and metal. Fireballs arced through the sky, falling to the ground and detonating in bright orange blasts. Blasts of water knocked people over, leaving them open to a blade in the gut. Rocks larger than his head flew through the air, each one capable of crushing bones or worse.

Hector had never witnessed such chaos before. The raid on Nefin could never compare to this. It would have been easy to get lost watching the slaughter, but Hector kept his mind focused. Using his vantage point, he kept watch, searching for pockets of emptiness in the writhing sea of bodies or some sort of flashy observer. Soon he found what he was looking for: three individuals who were reaping their way through the crowd as if everyone else were merely wheat to be harvested.

Hefting a massive warhammer over his shoulder as if it were a hollow plastic toy, Hector took off down the slope. He’d chosen two main weapons for the battle today — the warhammer and a two-handed sword he’d strapped to his back. Given the situation, he believed that it would be best to focus on power over finesse in order to wrack up the highest possible body count. He also had half a dozen throwing knives attached to his belt just in case. You never knew when a long-distance stabbing would become necessary.

Weaving his way through the Gustilian Observers, he leapt into the fray, his hammer swinging about with unnatural precision as he danced through the melee. Gustilian soldiers cheered as he swept through, every bit the storm his title claimed him to be. Finally he was through the mess and in a pocket of space. In the center of the clearing stood a man surrounded by dozens of dead Gustilians — Target One.

Standing an impressive two meters, Hector towered over the vast majority of the people, and yet the man before him dwarfed him by a considerable degree. Clad from helmet to boot in the thickest armor Hector had ever seen, this man seemed to be the closest thing to a walking tank this world could create. In his massive hands an equally massive blade spun in quick, short circles on a thick chain as thick as Hector’s wrist. The weapon reminded Hector of a chain sickle, one of those weapons you only saw in ninja movies, except on steroids.

The giant noticed Hector’s arrival almost instantly, loading up before swinging the chain in Hector’s direction. The massive blade whipped through the air at incredible speeds, but not incredible enough to catch somebody like Hector. Rolling beneath the incoming blade, Hector launched himself at his opponent and closed the five meters between the two of them in a fraction of a second. The man took a step back in surprise, his arms pulling the heavy chain to send the blade whirling back towards them both.

With a snort, Hector deftly dodged the returning weapon and delivered a powerful blow with his hammer to the side of the large man’s knee. To the giant’s obvious shock, the thick metal buckled inward, leaving the interlocking pieces of armor suddenly unable to move. The man had probably thought it impossible for somebody to be able to truly damage such thick armor. But Hector lived to do the impossible.

“Sorry, bro,” Hector said, “I’m not just faster, I’m stronger too.”

The man cried out and struck with the blade, but Hector would never be touched by a weapon moving at such dismal speeds. Spinning around behind the man, he lashed out once more with his hammer and smashed in the man’s shoulder plates, stifling his arm movements. Then, without pause, he delivered another swift blow, this time to the man’s other knee, sending the giant to the ground. The man struggled to get up, the weight and bent metal interfering with his attempts.

“This armor will be your coffin,” Hector sneered. With a single crushing strike, he caved in the man’s helmet. One down.

Drinking in the cheers of his nearby allies, Hector pulled out his sword for a change of pace and strapped his hammer to his back before looking about to find his next target. Soon he spotted her carving through Gustilians off in the distance. Ducking back into the fray, Hector bobbed and weaved his way towards his mark, his large sword finding its way into chinks in every Ubran armor he passed.

Target Two was a woman of average height, her tanned body fit and shapely but covered in scars. Her glossy indigo hair was tied up in braids that bounced and danced as she sliced through nearby Gustilians with a sword that was literally covered in flames. She laughed as her enemies fell, their bodies charred black. An eight.

Several nearby Gustilians cheered his arrival, prompting the woman to turn back and spot him. She pulled her sword from her latest victim with a massive grin on her face. Lifting her sword out in front of her, she charged. Hector did the same.

The two lashed out at each other, their swords colliding in a shower of sparks. Hector was surprised at the woman’s strength; it wasn’t on the level of the giant, but it was still most definitely superhuman. So she was both a Feeler and an Observer? Interesting! Hector had been told such people existed, but he’d never met one before. Still, Feeler or no, her strength paled in comparison to his, so why hadn’t her sword gone flying when their weapons had collided?

Looking closely at where the two blades met, Hector found with horror that his blade was melting, the woman’s blade biting nearly a third of the way through his weapon and slowly eating its way deeper. Letting lose a series of profanities, he ripped his blade free. The woman laughed again and swung her blade about horizontally towards his hips. Hector jumped back, getting out of range of the strike, but a fan of flames shot out from the woman’s sword as it went. With another series of curses, he leaned his upper body back as far as he could until he looked like a competitor in a limbo contest, just barely getting out of the way as the flames passed.

Flipping back upright, Hector immediately charged back in. He’d underestimated his opponent and lost the initiative for a moment, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Once again their blades clashed, and once again her sword began to melt his. But this time he was ready. Using his large strength advantage, he threw his weapon up and to the left, pushing her sword back and knocking her off balance. Letting go of his weapon, he shot forward, his hand pulling a knife from his belt. Panicked, the woman let go of the sword with one hand an conjured a gout of flame directly at him, but Hector put his head down and ran through it using every ounce of his blinding speed. Years of playing with fire as a child had taught him that flame wouldn’t hurt him if he didn’t stay in it long enough to get burned. Searing heat enveloped him for a fraction of a moment but then he was through, hot but unharmed. Grabbing the woman’s hair with his free hand, Hector drove his dagger into her left eye, through the socket, and into her brain. Her body shook for a moment before going limp. Two down.

“A shame,” he said to the corpse as he picked up his sword, inspected the heavy damage, and tossed it aside in favor of hers, “You were pretty hot.”

More cheers erupted at the sight of his second victory. All around, the Gustilians and Eterians fought harder, their hopes of survival and victory buoyed by his presence. Hector couldn’t help but grin. This was what he had been put on this world for. By the end of this battle he would be more than famous. He would be a legend.

A series of small clouds seemed to cover the area around where he’d first spotted Target Three. Confused, he made his way in that direction, his new sword striking down enemy after enemy as he went. He liked it; the blade had a good weight and balance to it and the handle fit well in his hand.

As he approached the clouds, Hector spotted an allied soldier stumbling his way out of the nearby fog and nearly lost his breakfast. The man’s skin bubbled and sizzled as it slowly melted. Something was eating away at every exposed surface, corroding not just his flesh but his clothes, his armor, and his weapon. Hector paled. Acid?

There was no way Hector was going into that cloud. But this sure seemed like the work of Target Three, or at the least somebody very worth killing. But how to do the deed without losing his stellar looks? Looking around, he realized that the clouds of acid stayed low to the ground, rising at most three meters from the earth. Suddenly he had an idea.

Backing up to get a better view, Hector inspected the clouds, searching for the extent of their reach. After moving about a little he had a good idea of the location of the area’s center. That was where Target Three lurked, surely.

Taking one throwing knife into each hand, Hector crept closer to the mist, though not too close. The clouds were still moving after all, and he didn’t want to end up inside them by accident. Then, crouching down, he leapt as hard as he could, shooting himself over a dozen meters straight upwards. Now airborne, it was a simple matter to spot the Observer close to where Hector had guessed. Standing in a pocket of clean air, the elderly man was surrounded by three guards looking about for any potential threats.

The guard closest to Hector spotted Hector’s ascendance just as the Earthling reached the peak of his jump, and by that time it was too late. Hector whipped his arms forward with all his considerable might and two knives plummeted down towards Target Three at speeds that approached that of a bullet. The guard was barely able to shout before one of the blades stabbed deep into the elder’s heart. Three down.

The central division of the Gustilian army let out the loudest cheer yet as the clouds slowly dissipated, revealing a dead old man and three other soldiers quickly retreating as soon as the acid was out of their path. Hector held his sword aloft in triumph, looking around at the battlefield. Though greatly outnumbered, the average Gustilian soldier was superior to the average Ubran. Well-trained and drilled, the defending forces still mostly held. The same could be said for the left and right divisions. Given time, the Gustilians and Eterians would tire and fall, but all they had to do was hold out long enough for somebody to break the Ubrans’ spirits. Somebody like him.

Just as he was about to get back to killing, a loud, low horn blast echoed across the valley. Hector looked up towards the ridge on the Ubran side to find a lone figure heading towards the battle. To his surprise, he realized that they weren’t just heading towards the crowd, but they were heading directly for him. He smiled. Had the Ubrans been holding back?

The Empire’s forces parted like the sea, allowing the person an unobstructed path. Hector studied the figure as they approached, and was not impressed. A small woman, barely one and a half meters tall, strode towards him, a look of unease on her round, flat face. Thin, unkempt black hair fell limply onto the shoulders of her squat, unflattering body clad in leather armor. She looked to be in her late twenties, though Hector wasn’t as confident as he normally would be on account of her bland features. A four, at best. What caught his eye, however, was the sword she carried. Two meters long and wider than the woman’s torso, the massive blade looked to be made of some sort of shiny, pitch black crystal that glinted ominously in the sunlight. Hector immediately knew he needed that sword in his hands.

The woman stopped several meters from Hector. The nearby Gustilian soldiers stayed back, focusing on other enemies and leaving the woman to Hector out of respect. The woman coughed. “You... are you from Earth too?” she asked, her voice unsure.

Hector rocked back. He had not expected such a question. More than that, he hadn’t expected to hear it in Spanish! Looking closer, he saw it. With her tanned skin, black hair, her language... if he had to guess, he’d say she was from somewhere in Central America.

“What if I am?” he replied.

The woman’s eyes widened at his answer and she began to tremble. “I’m Gabriela! Please, come join me!” she cried, a wild hope in her eyes. “The Empire knows how to send us home! All we have to do is get the energy to send us back and we can leave this place!”

“Leave this place?” Hector repeated with a mocking laugh. “Bitch, are you crazy? Why would I ever want to leave this place? Coming here is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me! On Earth I was a nobody. Here, I’m a celebrity! A hero!”

This time it was the woman’s turn to rock back in shock. “N-no! Please, I need to get back as quickly as possible! I need your help!”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you need,” Hector snarled. Putting his new sword onto his back, he pulled out his warhammer and hefted it in front of him. “You deal with your own problems, woman. Now are we going to do this or not?”

Gabriela swallowed and lifted her sword into a basic stance. “Please, we don’t have to-”

“Shut up, hag!” Hector shouted as he launched himself at the meek woman. As soon as he got within range, he swung his hammer towards her head. She blocked the attack with her massive sword, and to his surprise the force of his blow didn’t even stagger her. Her strength seemed to be considerable. Her reactions were good as well. Was she as strong as him? She couldn’t be. Not with a body like hers.

“I don’t want to fight you!” Gabriela cried. “We can work together!” Hesitation in her eyes, she struck at him with her sword, sending the blade carving through the air with a speed equal to Hector’s best. Not even Hector’s incredible reflexes could react to such a blow if he were caught unprepared, but he easily ducked beneath it. The woman had the form of somebody who’d never touched a sword until just half a year ago. He could read her every action like an open book. There was no way she’d be able to touch him like this.

“I don’t work with dogs,” Hector replied, sending a knife hurtling towards her right leg like a gunshot. Perhaps his insult shocked her. Perhaps it was just her inexperience. Whatever the reason, the woman barely moved in reaction and the knife buried itself into her knee. She cried out in pain as her leg started to give way and she staggered. Hector was ready. Stepping up beside her, he knocked her blade aside and slammed warhammer into her upper torso with his full power. The hammer’s weighty head ripped straight through her leather armor and caved in her chest, pulverizing her ribs into powder and mashing the organs inside into a bloody pulp before throwing her body a good ten meters away. The crystal sword flew as well, landing two meters from the corpse of the former Earthling.

The Gustilians nearby cheered once more as another “special” Ubran fell, though Hector didn’t think her to be too special, really. Honestly he’d put the other three he’d fought above her. While she’d been stronger than the others physically, her lack of skill was just too much of a detriment to her abilities. Still, he soaked in the cheers anyway, throwing his hands in the air and turning about to bask in the adulation from all directions. But then the cheering abruptly died off.

Confused, Hector looked back and couldn’t believe what he saw. Gabriela was standing. What? How? He’d destroyed her heart! Her lungs! A wide hole gaped in the middle of her armor, but beneath the leather and cloth Hector could see her unmarred flesh. She was whole again. Impossible!

Gritting his teeth, Hector charged the woman. In response, Gabriela ran over and picked up her sword, swinging it at him with gritted teeth. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the back of his mind that noticed that the hesitation in her eyes had disappeared. Whatever it was, it triggered alarm bells in Hector’s head and he abandoned his charge at the last moment, throwing himself backwards with everything he had. It saved his life.

The crystal blade flashed through the space Hector would have been in with a speed and power beyond anything he’d been prepared for. A thunderous crack rang out, echoing across the battlefield, and a force slammed into him, knocking him back a step. Once again, Hector couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. This tiny woman had swung her massive sword with enough power to break the sound barrier! She’d made a sonic boom!

Who the fuck was this woman? Not only had she healed an instantly fatal wound, she was even stronger than him to boot? Suddenly Hector’s mind flashed back to his previous life, when he’d been overshadowed by others who could run faster and jump higher, even though they didn’t have an ounce of the skill he possessed. He ground his teeth in fury. No. Not this time. Never again.

But then Gabriela was in front of him, moving faster than he’d ever moved. He threw himself back again and once more barely dodged her strike, the shock wave of the supersonic swing pushing him back even farther. Just as he regained his balance she was already almost on top of him, the blade crashing downward like a meteor. Hector jumped to his right and rolled as the sword struck the ground where he’d just stood, the impact sending tremors through the earth.

As the small woman pulled her weapon from the soil, Hector took advantage of her momentary lapse to hurl a dagger at her head. At first he thought he’d hit her, but Gabriela tilted her head aside when the blade’s tip was just a centimeter from her face and it flew by without touching her.

What the fuck. What the FUCK! Hector fought to keep his wits about him, his thoughts dangerously close to breaking down. He was still alive. As terrifying as this woman was, she was still incredibly raw, her movements filled with wasted motion and tells. All that crazy speed, power, and reflexes meant nothing if she couldn’t hit him. She fought in simple ways. Powerful, yes, but rudimentary. He was already starting to get a hang of her patterns. All he had to do was create an opening and kill her. Again. He had an idea of how he could make it permanent this time.

As Gabriela rushed him once more, Hector tossed one of his last two daggers up into the air towards a spot to her left and waited. She came at him in the same way as before, bringing her sword back to her side and sending it in a wide, horizontal arc. This time he was ready. Bracing himself for the shock wave, he spun himself to his right, bending and contorting to get his whole body beneath the sword. The blade rushed overhead, just a centimeter from his, but he emerged unscathed. Gritting his teeth, he continued his spin as the shock wave hit, planting his feet into the earth to avoid being pushed back.

Then the dagger fell back down, it’s high arc taking it over Gabriela’s sonic boom. Just as planned. His whole body still spinning, Hector twisted with all his might and used his momentum to swing his warhammer in a powerful arc right into the path of the falling knife. The hammer’s face collided with the bottom of the dagger’s hilt, driving the small blade directly at the side of his opponent’s head at insane speeds. A grin split his face. She wasn’t the only one who could make something move super fast.

Gabriela’s reaction time was ludicrous, but even she could not avoid something moving so quickly so close to her. The knife slammed into the side of her neck, slicing through throat and severing her carotid artery on the way through before exiting the other side in a fountain of gore. The woman shuddered and shook, but Hector was not finished. Still spinning, he stepped closer and delivered a heavy blow to his enemy’s skull. Though she tried to avoid it, Gabriela’s heavily damaged neck muscles could only move her neck just enough to soften the blow, turning a strike that would have splattered her brain all over the ground into one that merely broke through her skull and left a three centimeter indentation in the side of her head.

The impact sent the small woman tumbling and she finally came to a stop a good six meters from Hector, her body chest-down on the ground and her head laying facing him. The Gustilians cheered again, but Hector did not join them in their celebration this time. He’d hoped that by hitting her brain he could keep Gabriela down, but he couldn’t help notice the determined fire in the supposedly dead woman’s eyes and the fact that she still gripped her sword. Then he saw it — a strange red smoke that seemed to materialize out of nothing just centimeters from Gabriela’s wounds and flow into them. To his horror, in just a second the woman’s injuries filled in and disappeared.

She wouldn’t die. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to win? Could he run? No, if he ran from this fight his life would be as good as over anyway. He had to win. There were no other options. But how could he kill this woman?

A thought crossed his mind and he grabbed onto it, desperate for any solution — he needed to do more damage. There had to be a limit to what she could regenerate. Maybe instead of crushing and stabbing, he needed to cut. Maybe he needed to literally remove parts of her body until there was nothing left to heal. But to accomplish that, he’d need the right tool. Tossing his hammer to the side, he pulled out his sword as a plan began to form.

Gabriela stood up once more, her face filled with pain and anger. She screamed her rage at him and surged forward even faster than before. Hector backed away as quickly as he could, but she wouldn’t give him any breathing room. Her attacks came faster and harder and it took everything he had to keep himself in once piece as she steadily pushed him down the slope towards the center of the valley. Soldiers on both sides made way for the pair, their combat on hold. At some point in the previous round, the fighting had slowly ground to a halt as every man and woman in the valley stopped to watch in awe as the the two titans battled. It was as if they knew that this duel would determine the outcome of the engagement, as whichever one was left standing would then proceed to wreak havoc on the opposing side.

Hector dodged and weaved, rolled and tumbled, jumped and flipped, and did anything and everything else he could possibly do to keep himself away from Gabriela’s supersonic blade. Not once did he try to parry her blows; he could feel for certain that his blade would never stand up to the strain. To his concern, part of his mind noted that her form was improving, little by little. She was getting better. He had to end this soon. He had a plan to end it, but it needed an opening. The problem was getting that opening.

A splash of water sounded from below as he took another step backwards. She’d pushed him all the way down into the stream that ran through the center of the valley. An idea popped into his head. It was a huge gamble, for sure, but he couldn’t think of any alternatives while so much of his concentration was currently being spent on playing keep away.

Hector jumped back into the middle of the stream. His opponent followed, a fire raging behind her eyes. Without hesitation she rushed forward again, striking out with furious energy. This time, instead of backing up again, he dodged to the side. The small woman turned and struck out again, and he maneuvered to the side again, staying just a hair’s breadth away from her attacks. She growled in frustration and swung once more, this time starting from her lower right to her upper left. Hector bent himself out of the way as best he could, but he couldn’t avoid the blade completely this time. He gritted his teeth as it sliced a long, thin cut about a centimeter deep into his side.

Gabriela’s face lit up at the sight, but she didn’t realize that Hector had let it happen. He could have dodged better, but it was important to his gamble that he take a hit here. One reason was that he wanted her overconfident. The other was that for this gamble, he needed to be in his current position so that she wouldn’t move either, meaning he couldn’t back up. As her blade continued it path upwards and past Hector’s head, he pulled out his final knife, hurled it at the inside of Gabriela’s right knee.

He needed her to try to dodge it. That was why he had chosen that knee — it was the one he’d injured before, and the sight of another dagger heading for the same target might trigger a response that otherwise might not happen. He’d thrown it towards the inner side of her knee in the hopes that she’d move her leg outward to avoid it. A lot of small things needed to go right for this to work, and so he held his breath as the knife streaked towards Gabriela’s leg.

The stream was fairly wide, perhaps four meters from side to side, but it was not deep — only a centimeter or two deep in most places. But not all places. To Hector’s utter delight, as the dagger hurtled towards her knee, Gabriela moved her leg outwards... and right into a hole in the stream bed twenty centimeters deep. She stumbled and lost her balance.

Hector was ready. Quick as lightning, he closed in, his sword whipping out to sever the woman’s arms just above the wrist. She cried out in pain as her sword fell, her hands losing their grip and falling from the hilt. But Hector did not stop there. Dropping his own sword, he spun behind his flailing enemy so that he was directly behind her and facing her back. Grabbing her shoulders with a mighty grip, he pulled her off her feet and began to fall backwards, bringing her down with him. Hector curled his legs up towards his chest so that his feet were placed on her lower back as she toppled backward above him. The moment that the disoriented woman was directly above him, he kicked his legs out, launching her high into the sky.

Gabriela screamed as she tumbled wildly through the air, but Hector ignored her for a moment. Quickly bending down, he scooped up her crystal sword and smiled as the feeling came rushing in. Oh, the things he’d be able to do with this beauty.

The small woman had begun her descent now. Hector moved over a little, adjusting to her vector, and pulled the massive sword back. Then, as she came within range, he thrust the pitch black weapon upward, spearing Gabriela in the heart. The blade, wider than she, split her in two as blood and flesh rained down upon Hector. Gabriela’s lower half fell behind him, while her upper body tumbled down to into the stream in front of him, the light in her eyes that he’d seen before absent. She was finally gone.

Turning to the Gustilians, Hector stabbed the crystal sword point-first into the stream bed and flexed, unleashing a primal roar of triumph. He’d done it. He’d proven once and for all that he was the greatest warrior in all the lands. The Gustilian side exploded with cheers, while the Ubrans looked as if the life had been sucked from them.

Hector reveled in it all. This was his time. His moment of glory. Still, a part of his mind, far in the back, couldn’t help but note that it was a shame his time of greatness came with his entire outfit stained with blood. He looked down at himself and grimaced. He sure was a mess. Nearly his entire torso was stained red. Bits of organs speckled him all over. He brushed a bit of flesh from his shoulder and rubbed his eye. Ugh. He was so covered in blood it was getting in his eyes, staining everything red. He blinked, but the tinge remained, almost as if the entire area was enveloped in a red... mist.

A pair of vice grips grabbed his ankles.

Hector fell, howling in agony. Pain coursed through him as he struggled to roll over on the slippery stream’s bottom, but after a few moments he was able to get a better view of his legs. He paled at the sight. His feet were gone, his ankles squeezed into a red paste. The pain was nearly enough to overwhelm him, but he could not look away. And then he saw her.

Gabriela rose to her feet, her body whole once more, a look of unholy vengeance on her face. Her lower body now completely uncovered, she slowly, deliberately, stepped over to her sword, pulled it from the river, and raised it over her head.

He’d never had a chance. He realized that now, as he stared into the woman’s crimson eyes. Within them he saw only death. A demon. El Diablo.

The demon in human skin whispered something to herself and swung. The blade carved down through the air with gruesome finality, its arc unstoppable, its edge unavoidable. Hector’s final thought, as death descended, was the realization he’d been wrong. Talent won over skill in this world too. It just wasn’t fair.