The roar of the crowd could be heard for miles from the arena. Hope ignited within mankind once more as Samson returned to the West entrance. Hlökk followed along, floating behind him. While few could tell, those experienced with combat in the crowd knew that Samson was exhausted. Baldr pushed him further than anyone had before. No one came close to killing Samson, let alone at levels of strength even Samson had never fought at before. "Sis, how did Samson do that? I thought Baldr's gauntlets could destroy anything they touched." Göll said after calming down from her cheers.
"Wait, Brunhilde," Li said. He turned his attention to Göll. "Don't rely on your sister so much. Take in what was discussed before and try to conclude for yourself."
Göll shifted her gaze from Li and Brunhilde, but Brunhilde smiled and shrugged while lifting her hands. Göll was alone. She scratched her head as her eyes darted around, trying to put things together. "Samson's ability got stronger with each kept vow…but it wasn't the dagger…I mean, the dagger was destroyed…"
"Yes…" Li said, rolling his hand, gesturing for her to continue.
She snapped her fingers. "Samson's last vow was to destroy the dagger! When he managed to break it, he reached three kept vows and gained his full strength!"
"You're missing one key aspect," Brunhilde said.
"I am?"
"What did all the vows have in common?"
Göll thought back to each time Samson's power increased. "…I don't know. Was it because he did things for Hlökk?"
"Göll, hold out your hand. Palm up." Li said.
Göll stretched out her hand slowly. It shook as she stretched it out, scared of what Li would do to her. Li reached into his pocket and gently put something hard and wrapped in plastic in her hand. A piece of candy. "Well done. Full marks." Li smiled. "Samson is not only strong, but is far smarter than anyone gives him credit for. There are few fighting geniuses of his caliber. He knew how to play with words and actions to trick Baldr into thinking the dagger was Hlökk when she was his hairpin."
"Hlökk's powers were channeled through Samson's hair, the source of his strength," Brunhilde added. "This turned Samson's whole body into a Völund that weakened anything he came in contact with. Whether he struck something or was struck himself."
"So even when Baldr hit him with the gauntlets, he was weakening them too!"
"Exactly. However, for him to reach that level of power, he had to do one of the hardest things people like him must do…trust someone. He had to put more faith in Hlökk than in his power or that dagger and prove it three times: by trusting her input, her sincerity, and her power. Only then would he reach the point he could destroy something made even from Authulma's flesh."
"Wow…"
"Once again, another of your sisters shows incredible power and ability," Li said, smiling softly. "However…the one you stuck me with still needs some work." Li turned away from the two. "I need to go and help her prepare."
"Go easy on her, Li. She's a handful." Brunhilde said.
"I need her to be ready…especially since the one I'm likely fighting is going to be harder to deal with now."Br unhilde and Göll did not sense it, but Li knew. His years of training and constant martial combat built in him a sense for those who were aiming for him. Li had a rough idea of where he was, too, but refused to acknowledge him. He continued to walk away from the bleachers and into the halls as Týr stared daggers at his back.
"Thor," Týr said sternly. Thor looked over to him. "The Round's over. It's time to get back to training." Thor shook his head, and the two walked slowly to the back of the box and out, leaving Set and Yama alone. Set sat in complete silence, staring down at the arena floor. His eyes traced the trail of blood that marked Baldr's last steps. His motivation was slowly seeping out with each second.
"Damn…looks like this won't be as simple as expected," Yama said.
"You are right. With each round that has passed, humanity crept closer and closer to a victory. I did not expect it to be this early."
"Wasn't Baldr one of the ones you thought would lose?"
"…He had the highest chance, alongside Dionysus. Amongst the Roster, those two were the ones with the lowest success rate, despite Dionysus having his adaptive powers and Baldr possessing a mind perfect for psychological warfare, along with his speed and invulnerability." Yama rose from his seat and began to leave. "Not going to stick around?" Set asked.
"I have priorities I must attend to. I'll be back when the Fourth Round starts."
"To keep an eye on me, right?" Set asked without looking away from the arena. Yama stopped in his tracks. "Do not worry, Yama. I know what Zeus asked of you. As long as you do your part, I see no issue with you working for both Zeus and me." Yama breathed deeply. He wanted to kill Set right then and there, but he pushed the tempting thought down and walked out.
Set stood up and adjusted his coat. He left not long after Yama and made his way back to his chambers. Ensuring no one was listening in, Set removed his helmet and placed it on a pedestal in front of him; the helmet staring back at him with empty eye sockets. "I thought our start would be better," Set said. His voice was deeper than normal, but the speech pattern remained.
Our start is fine. We only have so much control over the fighters. It's a marvel Dionysus picked up on Hohenheim's realization of his adaptive powers. A voice spoke in his mind.
"The score could easily be 1-2 for us right now."
If Indra had not hardened his resolve, it could have been 0-3. His sentimentality almost cost us.
"It did not. We need to remember we have the lead, and our fighters are doing their jobs to the best of their ability."
What about Baldr, the stupid imp?
"He fought gloriously; do not insult him." Set hissed at the helmet. "We knew Samson was amongst the most dangerous on Brunhilde's Roster. Baldr was always intended for him, based on our research. How could we have known the level of deception Samson would go to trick Baldr and remove his protection?"
Sounds like you're making excuses for a now-dead, bitter God.
"Be that as it may, we need to prepare for the next few rounds. Quickdraw was already selected for Round 4, but I cannot figure out who she'll pick. Worse, if we lose, the score gets tied."
What should we do in case that happens?
Set stared at the helmet, angry with the possibility. "We will need to move Storytelling up."
Are you insane!? That's our endgame! You're trying to turn a marathon into a sprint!
"If we had not lost Baldr, then it would not be a potential option. No plan survives first contact. We held the lead, but if we do not make a play sooner rather than later, our momentum will be pulled away." The room went silent for a moment.
I hope you are right.
"I hope I am wrong, and we take Round 4." Set leaned back against the wall and slid down. His whole body went limp as he sat down. Why was this bothering him so much? He pondered. Maybe it was because Baldr reminded him of a few people, or it was because of nostalgia. Either way, losing his composure now was pointless and an exercise in futility. He sat there in silence, letting the quiet in and focusing on his breathing. Three heavy knocks shook his door. Set sprang up and walked over to his helmet, snatching it up and putting it on in a single motion. The helmet clicked and snapped into place as he walked to the door. He did not recognize the cadence of the knocks, putting Set slightly on edge. Opening the door, he came face-to-face with a familiar but elderly face. The older god still had his cold, blue eyes, along with silver hair parted down the middle and a well-trimmed mustache, and wore his favorite suit of armor, His silver hand clinking lightly as he tapped his sword pommel. "Ah, Nuada. What do I owe the pleasure of your time?" Set asked, standing in the threshold.
"I came to check on you to ensure Odin didn't pull the same thing Zeus did back in Round One," Nuada said, smiling wryly.
"Oh, we both know Odin does not care that much about any of his children not named 'Thor.' Be that as it may, if that is all you are here for-"
"It's not." Set shifted his gaze side to side before locking eyes with Nuada.
"Then…how else can I help you?"
"The next round is Quickdraw, right?"
Set stepped back a little. "It is, but as we discussed, your contest is far off. Quickdraw is not the best way to show your power." Set said.
"Well, of course not," Nuada said, stroking his chin with his right hand. "However, I have an inkling of who's going on both sides and thought we'd go together to get your next fighter."
"I appreciate that, but you do not need to waste your time accompanying me."
"I'm not accompanying you. A sparring partner of mine happens to be the teacher of your two best options. I'm going to see him. Whether you come or not depends on your ability to realize your best options are in the same direction." Set remained stoic in front of the powerhouse in front of him. Nuada was not a fool. He loved combat much like Zeus and Odin, but was far cleverer than either. Set knew he would not interfere with Ragnarök, but that would not stop him from snooping around for potential threats. Especially if those threats could harm Lugh.
"Then I shall join you on this venture," Set said.
Nuada's wry smile grew a little. He stepped back from the door and gently waved his silver arm to the hall. Set nodded and walked out of his room, closing the door behind him, and the two began walking down the corridor. "So Coach, if you don't mind my prying, what's your strategy for the next few Rounds?"
Not even giving me space to breathe. Set thought. "To be honest, I am not sure. Losing Baldr threw things into disarray, and I have too many avenues to work through since Round 4 is already chosen. The fighter must be taken into account, what contests he cannot partake in once chosen, and does Brunhilde has a counter or not. I also have to take into account our deal, which you stressed that if I did not follow, you would, and I paraphrase, 'shove Argetlam so far up my… you know, that you could tap on the inside of my mask.'"
"Just making sure you and I are on the same page here, Coach. As much as I want this to be a good chance for Lugh to establish himself, he's the crown prince and heir to my throne. I've spent countless years training my nephew for this, and I don't plan to let something like this put an end to him, especially the machinations of a schemer like yourself."
The two continued their walk-through of Valhalla. The air between them grew heavier as the journey went on. "He is precious to you."
"He's my heir. It doesn't matter how I feel. What matters is that the Celtic gods have a proper and strong leader for the battles to come."
"They already have one."
"They do, but I'm getting old, and the job is getting to be taxing. I just want to fish and hunt again. Lugh'll do a fine job of it."
"True, but I have a question with all of this: if you want Lugh to live and become king, why bring him here at all?"
"He needs preparation. Things are lurking out there, aiming to cut us down. Old...and new enemies." Nuada tapped on his sword pommel again. "Keeping him sheltered will do more harm than good."
You finally realized you cannot protect him forever. Set thought.
"There's also the fact you picked Baldr."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I'm not one to put too much stock in things like fate or destiny, but I do recall the end of the world starting with his death in old Norse legends. Things…are going to change, and we must be ready."
Set silently panicked. Oh no; Nuada is right. There are legends about this, but it was because he was struck by mistletoe, or Mistletainn, but…that did not happen. He was killed by Samson…who could do what the legend foretold. Are things starting to go wrong?
"We're here," Nuada said. The two stood before two large wooden shutter doors. Emblazoned on both was the kanji 剣術, reading out as 'Kenjutsu.' Nuada walked up to the doors and lightly knocked with his right hand.
"Who is it?" Yelled a deep voice full of mirth.
"It's Nuada. I've brought Set as you asked."
"You brought me!?" Set asked, his eyes burning a hole through Nuada's head. Nuada did not bother to meet his gaze. Large and heavy footsteps came from the other side of the door and stopped just before them. One of the wooden doors slid to the side seamlessly, revealing a tall and imposing god. His blue and white hair was done in a samurai's ponytail. He was wearing a kimono, dark blue on the right and white on the left. It was held in place by a red rope belt on his waist just above a pair of matching dark blue trousers. He was barefoot, but he still stood nearly 60 centimeters taller than Nuada and Set. The most alarming part of his appearance was his deep black eyes, strong chin, and wild eyebrows.
"Welcome to my dojo, guys!" The tall god said, smiling.
Susano'o-no-Mikoto
God of Storms, Seas, and Swords
One of the Three Noble Children
(formerly)
(Shinto Pantheon)
His heart dropped into his shoes. He knew two of his students were here training and preparing, but he did not think that one of the three Noble Gods of Japan would come by to see them. "…Susano'o - "Set started.
"No formalities, please. Lost the need for that a long time ago for something far better." Susano'o said, smiling.
"Ah, of course." Set cleared his throat. "May we come in?"
"Come on in. Been expecting you two!" Susano'o beckoned them in. Nuada walked in first, and Set shortly after. The room was bizarrely simple. The floor was a polished wood, so smooth you could see the ceiling reflected in it. All the walls, save for the one opposite the entrance, were made up of large wooden sliding doors. At the opposite wall sat a single statue: a warrior wielding a straight-edged blade cutting into the body of an eight-headed serpent. Above it was a simple white banner with the same kanji as the entrance, 剣術. At the center of the room was a single short wooden table lined with red and white cushions. On the other side of the wooden doors to his left, Set could hear shouting, sharp metal flying through the air, and the occasional clash of blades.
Before they went any further, Set and Nuada removed their shoes at the entrance and made their way to the table in the center. Susano'o followed them, and all three sat down around the table. Nuada removed his sword and placed it on the floor next to him as he sat next to Susano'o and opposite Set. "Good to finally meet you, Set," Susano'o said. His smile was so genuine that it was off-putting to Set.
"Same. I apologize for not initially reaching out to you face-to-face. I had to move quickly to build the roster, but that doesn't excuse poor etiquette."
"Nothing I care about, so don't worry about it. However, you're probably wondering why I'm here."
Is everyone suspecting me of something now!? Even you!? I have to talk with your father about this. "Yes, I am."
"When we first spoke, you made Ragnarök sound like a good opportunity for my students and me. I was hoping someone would be selected for the Humans, but that went up in smoke once I saw the roster."
Ah. I stand corrected. "Losing you from our side did hurt, but your students no doubt make up for it. I have heard nothing but praise for Futsunushi and Takemikazuchi."
Susano'o beamed. "Which is why I wanted to be here. When I heard the selection of games chosen, I hurried over."
"Why?"
"My boys are strong, Set. Extremely strong, and they're both on the cusp of mastery. Soon, I can consider them peers rather than disciples. There's nothing quite like that, right, Nuada?" Susano'o chuckled as he elbowed Nuada's metallic arm.
"Nothing at all." Nuada smiled softly.
"There you go. However, they both hit a wall. For a while now, they've been stuck in that rough patch just before the peak. I need to know for certain that the contests they're selected for and their opponents will push them over the edge."
"Do you need them to put their lives on the line for that?" Set asked.
Susano'o took a deep breath and exhaled. "Set, I don't know you. I hope I don't insult you since you made this possible, but the path of the sword is the path of combat, relentless training, and potential death. It's not just fancy moves with sharp metal sticks. It's a weapon that expands cultures and nations and is nearly timeless. Many great warriors amongst humanity took that simple metal stick and turned it into a phenomenon far beyond what we Gods did. Against monsters, each other, and sometimes even us. Futsu and Take are going down that same path, and for them to finally reach the summits of mastery, they must put their lives on the line against great warriors. Do you get what I'm saying?"
Maybe it was the way he spoke, or maybe it was the way he carried himself, but Susano'o came off as if he were speaking about a true love. The joy and peace in his presence made Set nostalgic for a moment. Set leaned back and propped himself up with his hands, his body relaxed. "…It has been far too long…I remember days like that, so I do 'get' what you are saying."
Susano'o looked pleased at the sight. Nuada could not help but have a little joy leak into his smile as memories poured in, too. "That's why I need to know you're doing right by them."
Set leaned back up. "I would never disrespect you or them, Susano'o. To prove that, I wish to discuss with you who should go."
"You're giving me the choice?"
"More like comparing your choice to my assessment. We will make a game out of it. A…friendly wager."
Susano'o leaned in. "What're you betting?"
Set needed to make a point here. Two Chief gods, or at least one current and one former, were sizing him up. It was time to bring his best and prove it. "You say you already looked at the list. I venture to believe you have already determined who would be the best opponents for your students. To prove I can be trusted with them, I will bet that I pick the same opponent you picked and the best student for the contest. I bet information and the authority pick the rest of the rounds for you and Nuada. If I fail, then you get both. The info is whatever any question you ask, I must answer honestly, in both spirit and letter. If I win," Set stared them both down. "I maintain my authority, and nothing like this happens again." Set's aura began to flow out. "I respect you both, nay, admire. Both of you represent something I wish many Gods would bother to live up to. However, I am tired of the constant distrust and backdoor affairs." The aura began to flood the room. Susano'o tensed ever so slightly, and Nuada lightly placed his left hand on his scabbard. "I am here to win. I am here to prove that Humanity squandered its chances." Set's aura began to fade. "I have no intention of bringing harm to our fellow Gods or setting things up for any harm to come to your pupils." Set placed his tablet on the table between the three and tapped the screen. The screen lit up, and a small display appeared in the air in front of them. "Do we have a deal?"
Both Gods looked at each other, then back at Set. "Deal," Susano'o answered.
Fighters for Humanity
Romulus
Saint Germain
Johannes Lichtenauer
Georgios
Ghulam Butt
Tadakatsu Honda
Leonardo Da Vinci
Li Shuwen
Vlad Dracul Tepes
"Of the nine remaining fighters for Humanity, there are only three, I believe, who will be up for selection by Brunhilde for Quickdraw." Set swiped his right index finger through the projection, removing six names.
Fighters for Humanity
Romulus
Johannes Lichtenauer
Georgios
"Among the remaining three, one stands out as seemingly unimportant. What does a single sword master have to compare against a demigod and one of the most powerful saints in history? Simple." Set pointed to the banner behind the two Gods. "He knows the sword better than them. Far better than most. That's why for Round 4: Quickdraw, Brunhilde will pick him." Set swiped twice, leaving one name.
Fighters for Humanity
Johannes Lichtenauer
"He will be selected, and he is the best opponent for the faster of your two students, Futsunushi."
"You called?" Asked a voice from behind Set. He turned slowly to see the source: a tall, handsome, and youthful god in a dark blue-gray kimono. His features were sharp with black eyes, and his black hair was pulled back into a bun; a single pink highlight stood out amongst his otherwise simple hairstyle. He wore large, brown wood beads around his neck and a red rope around his waist. His sandals were black and metallic, complete with shin guards and matching vambraces on his arms. On his left hip was a single katana with a brown scabbard and red handle.
Futsunushi
God of Combat and Swords
(Shinto Pantheon)
Futsunushi stared down at Set, his expression so smug it caused an instinctive compulsion in Set to want to slap him. Set had no clue when he got there; none of the entrances seemed to move or make a sound to announce his arrival. "Ah, you arrived just in time, Futsu. Set is guessing who will be chosen by Brunhilde. He picked Lichtenauer." Susano'o said.
"Futsu, wait the hell up, man!" Said a loud, booming voice from outside. A large, stout god with pink hair and a black highlight tied in a bun walked into the room. He wore a simple, dull yellow kimono, with two katana at his left side.
Takemikazuchi
God of Thunder and Swords
(Shinto Pantheon)
"Don't want to, Take," Futsunushi said. "Anyways, has she sent us her choice?"
"We're waiting for it," Set said.
Futsunushi inhaled through his teeth. "Can't stand waiting. It's already been three rounds; you'd think it wouldn't take so long."
"The last round just ended barely half an hour ago. Taking time to strategize is important." Set responded.
"Wasting time leads to lost action, which leads to lost opportunity. Right, Sensei?" Futsunushi asked.
"Set's got a point here, Futsu. Let's wait to see what happens." Susano'o said.
"…Fine." Futsunushi sat down to Set's left and hunched over, resting his head in his hand, propped up by his elbow.
"So was I right?" Set asked.
"Not just yet. I will give you that you picked the best fighter for the contest and his best opponent, but Brunhilde still has to pick." The tablet vibrated. Set picked it up and saw the notification. The Fighter for Round 4 was chosen. He smiled under his mask. Delicately, he placed the tablet back on the table and made it project once more.
Contest for Round 4: Quickdraw
Fighter for Humanity in Round 4
Johannes Lichtenauer
"Gentlemen, I believe that's my win," Set said.
"Well done, Set!" Susano'o said, smiling and slapping his knee. "Futsu, get ready and head to the arena. You have my permission to go all out and to use my present for you."
"A-are you serious?" Futsunushi asked.
"Of course I am! This is your chance. Go full throttle and make him boil." Susano'o smiled his widest, madness-fueled smile yet.
Futsunushi jumped a little. "Yes, Sensei! I will bring honor and success to our school!" Futsunushi quickly bowed and vanished out of the room.
"Take, go make sure he's ready. You know how he gets."
"Yes, Sensei," Takemikazuchi responded. He glared at the back of Set's head as he bowed and left shortly after, leaving the three alone.
"Will you keep your promise to me?" Set asked.
"We will," Nuada answered. "That doesn't mean we trust you or that we approve of everything you're doing, but we will respect your intent and the deal."
"Thank you. As a sign of goodwill, I will still offer to answer any questions you have for me. The spirit and the letter. No hard feelings and such."
"Really now?" Nuada asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
"Trust is easy to lose and hard to earn. Like I said, I admire the two of you more than I would like to admit. So I want there to be trust, at least among the three of us. So, let's make the road to mutual trust the intended course here."
"Simple enough. Alright then, who are you?" Nuada asked.
Back within the hall of the Einherjar, Brunhilde and Göll were waiting within the room of one of the fighters for Set's response. The room was large and pristine, far larger than the hall made it seem. The walls were a pristine blue, and the floors were clean white marble. The room was lined from wall to wall with full wooden bookshelves, all of which towered over the two and the room's inhabitants. In front of the two, on a soft red couch and fast asleep, was an elderly man with a white beard and moustache. He had a simple white long-sleeve shirt on and a pair of tan trousers. His dark brown boots sat neatly at the foot of the couch. By the head, a massive stack of books full of bookmarks, bent pages, and notes. The most striking thing about the gentleman was the pompadour his white hair was styled in, just barely jutting out over his forehead.
"Johannes, wake up," Brunhilde said.
Johannes responded with a loud snore but remained asleep.
"Sis…is he okay?" Göll asked.
"He's fine, Göll. He's just doing what he always does. Ignoring people and sleeping the day away."
"May I be of assistance, Brunhilde?" A voice from above them said. The two looked up, spotting a young girl on a ladder placing books onto shelves. Several more were floating behind her. She wore thick-framed glasses and her dark hair in a bob cut. Her attire resembled a medieval scholar: a white cloak with long sleeves and thigh-high boots that matched her thick and poofy hat. She wore simple black gloves over her hands and a small white cloak with a lavender lining.
Reginleif
(7th Sister of the Valkyries)
Reginleif waved her index finger, and a heavy book amongst the flock behind her dropped. The book fell straight towards the old man's head. Without opening his eyes, his right hand snapped up and caught the book just before it crashed into his forehead. His blue eyes snapped open, and he jerked awake.
"You're welcome," Reginleif said.
Johannes looked around and saw Brunhilde and Göll staring at him, Brunhilde slightly irritated and Göll confused.
"Afternoon!" Johannes said softly, his voice quiet but with a strong tenor. "I was wondering why Reginleif would wake me up. Normally, she just leaves me alone after I lie down."
Johannes Lichtenauer
(Germany)
"As much as I appreciate a good nap, this is not the time for one. You're needed for Round Four," Brunhilde said.
"Already? Goodness, where does the time go?" Johannes sat up, groaning along the way. He reached over and grabbed his boots and slid them on up to just above his shins. "How did Samson do?"
"He won. We're now 1-2."
"Guess that means I need to maintain the pace then. Alrighty." Johannes stood up and stretched. His back popped a few times, followed by his shoulders, wrist, and knuckles. "Ooof. Still feeling it even here. Place just isn't fair."
"Being in Heaven does bring you to the point you're in your golden age. This just happens to be it." Brunhilde said, smiling slightly.
"I'm in my golden years, not my golden age. Honestly, how does everyone else get so lucky?" Johannes asked, raising an eyebrow towards Brunhilde.
Was that…a pun? Göll asked. Are we dealing with History's Most Obnoxious Grandpa here?
"Whatever. Reginleif, are you ready?" Johannes yelled up. Reginleif nodded. Johannes stood next to the pile of books. Taking one in hand, he tossed it into the air. Reginleif snatched it out of the air with her powers and sent it straight into an open space in the bookshelf. Johannes sent another, and Reginleif caught it and put it away. The two said nothing as they went on, not even looking at each other or what book was being sent and sorted. Before long, all the books were stowed away. Reginleif floated down from the top of the ladder and stood next to Johannes.
"Who's our opponent?" Brunhilde showed him the screen of her tablet with Set's response.
Contest for Round 4: Quickdraw
Fighter for the Gods
Futsunushi
"A Japanese God hailed as the Fastest Sword in the Heavens."
"Sounds like the perfect fighter for this Round. Not making it easy for me, are you?" Johannes asked, smiling.
"Is anything worthwhile ever easy?" Brunhilde said, smiling.
"Never, unless you're lucky."
"Johannes, we need to go. It's best not to dilly-dally around here." Reginleif said.
"Of course. Brunhilde, Göll. Wish us luck." Johannes walked over to a wooden table a couple of meters from his couch. On it was a brown leather belt and a cyan tabard. He tossed the tabard over his shirt and set it in place with the belt. Göll could not help noticing his back straighten as he put it on. Energy began to swell around him as he checked his person for anything out of place. He then nodded to Reginleif, and the two walked out of the room.
"Sis, do you think he can do it? I mean, he doesn't…seem like he's all there or even that focused on this." Göll asked.
"Göll, amongst the countless souls who wielded the sword, there were a few who could be called true masters. Around the world, many honed their abilities to reach the peak that only a few could reach, and many more could only dream of. Among the few, that man is considered a Master of Masters. I have no doubt he will bring his best." Brunhilde looked up at the ceiling. "He'll need to if he wants to defeat Futsunushi. No doubt one of the top students of Susano'o will be a challenge."
Valhalla Arena
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are back here for Round 4!" Heimdall roared. "And do we have something special for you! As a special bonus for this round, it was requested by one side for the arena to have a special theme for the occasion. It was met with approval by the opposing side, and as promised, WE DELIVER!" Heimdall soared over the arena and the bleachers in his floating platform. His attire for this round…was interesting, to say the least. He wore a brown button-up shirt under a light purple vest, a pair of khaki slacks tucked into two light-brown cowboy boots complete with spurs. On his waist was a matching belt with an empty holster on his left side. To complete his ensemble, he wore a large white cowboy hat and a red scarf.
The watchman of the apocalypse was nothing if not determined to play his role. Below him, the arena was designed into something that could only come out of a Spaghetti Western. Old wooden buildings lined each side of a single narrow dirt road: a saloon, a bank, a jailhouse, a hotel, and even a haberdashery. Even a soft wind would flow through now and then and carry a tumbleweed through the street. Empty barrels and water troughs lined the stores. "We got ourselves a good ol' fashioned showdown 'bout to go down! These two warriors are here to show us who's the fastest in the land. Right now, the Gods sit at a close lead of 2-1. Can Humanity continue their streak from Round Three, or was it just plain ol' luck!? Let's see for ourselves with our first challenger making his way here!"
Heimdall waved his free hand to the West Entrance.
"Introducing the Fighter for Humanity in Round Four!
His past, a mystery. His name, legendary!
When you think of Western Swordsmanship, his name always appears!
His skill was so sought after that he trained his students in secret and kept his lessons in code!
Pure simplicity. Pure efficiency. Pure, unmatched skill!
He's here to show the world his hidden skills and claim victory!
From the land of Germany, he is the Master of Masters! The Grandfather of the Sword!
JOHANNES LICHTENAUER!"
Hundreds of warriors in the crowd cheered and raised their swords in the air. Many of them are markedly different from the other in clothing, appearance, and origin. Many of them had never met the other, but they all knew this one man. They all knew one thing. He was strong. The doors to the Western Entrance opened, and Johannes walked out. He carried himself with a regal bearing that brought awe to the crowd. In his hands, however, was not a sword. It was a simple hardcover book held shut by two leather belts. The cover was the same color as his tabard. In the middle of the book was a silver bookmark. He held it close to his side as he walked down the row of buildings and stopped just under Heimdall.
Heimdall pointed to the East side of the arena with his free hand.
"Introducing the Fighter for the Gods in Round Four!
His name cuts through the air without resistance.
In the ancient past, he was ordered to bring order to the land of Izumo.
In that effort, he struck down evil Gods who threatened the world, including the god Amatsumikaboshi!
None have ever seen his blade and lived to tell the tale!
His skill inspired mankind to build a martial art just to imitate him!
Will he end mankind's struggle before we even blink!?
Welcome me everyone, the Vanishing Blade! The Fastest Sword in all the Heavens!
FUTSUNUSHI!"
The gods' side of the arena roared as the East gates opened. Everyone stared at the entrance, including Heimdall, save for Johannes.
He was looking right in front of him, where Futsunushi had already appeared. "Holy cow, that was fast! Futsunushi appeared right in the center of the arena before anyone saw him!" Göll shouted.
Futsunushi looked the same from his meeting with his Sensei and Set, save for the large blade in a mahogany scabbard secured to his back by a thin cord. He looked down at Johannes and smirked. "Wow…didn't think they'd send an old man to fight me. You okay, Gramps? You look like a good, strong wind will knock you over!"
Johannes smiled wryly. "I appreciate your concern for me, but I think I'll manage," Johannes said.
"I sure hope so. Don't want you croaking before the match starts."
"Anyways!" Heimdall shouted, staring down at the two, slightly annoyed. "Time for the rules of our next contest, ya'll! Quickdraw! Contrary to the arena and theme, this match is going to be with swords!
1) Both fighters are allowed to use any weapon brought into the arena, so long as it is a sword with a scabbard.
2) Each sword is attached with a meter on the base of the blade just above the guard. Your swords will only retain their sharpness so long as the meter does not run empty! The time limit: five seconds!
3) Once the time limit is up, it must be sheathed back in its original scabbard for one full second to regain its sharpness.
4) The last fighter alive wins the Round!"
"Sounds simple enough, but Heimdall! My opponent does not seem to have a sword on him!" Futsunushi said, chuckling. He turned back to Johannes. "Not going senile on me, are you?"
"It fits the criteria, so don't worry. I promise…you'll enjoy this as much as I," Johannes responded.
"Fighters, are you ready!?" Heimdall shouted. Futsunushi stepped back and grasped his scabbard and sword, ready to draw. Johannes stood there, his whole body relaxed.
"FIGHT!"
Futsunushi vanished from his spot. He appeared right before Johannes and began to draw his sword. The blade unsheathed; he swung straight at Johannes' neck. Johannes raised the book and smashed it into Futsunushi's wrist, raising his arm just above Johannes' before the swing could finish and lop off his head. He hooked the book between Futsunushi's hand and sword handle and pulled him to the left. Futsunushi could not stop the swing but managed to put his foot in front of him to keep from falling. Suddenly, a loud whop erupted from behind Futsunushi. He jumped a little bit forward and clasped his buttocks in his hands. The entire crowd went speechless.
Johannes just spanked a God…with a book. Futsunushi looked back towards the old man, rage and embarrassment painting his face a bright red. "Old habit. Sometimes, we old folks got a set a youngster straight, and nothing does it like a good swift smack on the rear end!" Johannes said, smiling. Suddenly, a powerful, murderous aura flew around Johannes. "Now come over here; your lesson's not over."