Your comments, reviews, and votes really help me out so much and they make me super motivated to keep working on this story! Thank you! Pat**on : CaveLeather
"Since you're offering, I'll take a quick breather."
Leo smiled and dropped onto a wine barrel at the edge of the ring. Varyn immediately brought him a cup of wine and a plate of sliced fruit.
Leo took a sip, munched on a piece of fruit, and studied the new challenger from head to toe.
The man was about the same height as him, with shoulders so wide he looked built like a bull. Add in the full suit of steel plate, and most people would've felt serious pressure just standing across from him.
Leo looked closer. No house sigil, no crest—nothing. A freerider who could afford a full set of plate like that? He had to be a sworn knight for some lord by now. Sellswords and freeriders usually spent every coin they earned the same day they got it. There was no way this guy saved up for gear like that on his own.
Yet he wore no identifying marks. He clearly didn't want anyone knowing who he really was.
Now this is interesting.
"My lord, I had someone ask around," Varyn whispered as he handed Leo a hot towel. "This guy's already beaten seven or eight opponents today. He was the champion of another ring. Heard about you and came straight over to challenge you."
Leo's interest spiked even higher.
A fighter this strong might actually be someone from the original story.
"What was his name again?"
"Reb. From the Stormlands."
"Reb? Last name?"
"None mentioned."
Leo tilted his head, searching his memory. Nothing. No bells rang.
Whatever. If I don't know him, I'll find out soon enough.
He stood up, rolled his shoulders, and loosened his arms.
"Ready when you are."
"You sure you don't want more time?" the armored man asked.
"No need." Leo shook his head. "You just finished seven or eight fights yourself. We're in the same boat. Besides, stamina and endurance are part of what makes a real warrior. Out on a real battlefield, your enemy isn't going to wait for you to catch your breath. Am I right?"
"Fair point. Then let's begin."
Both men dropped into a ready stance, eyes locked, every sense focused.
They could both tell this opponent was on another level—the toughest either had faced so far.
They circled slowly, swords held ready, each hunting for the slightest opening.
Ten, twenty seconds passed. Then thirty. Neither found a gap. The stalemate dragged on.
The crowd grew restless. People started shouting, cursing, and demanding blood.
Leo decided he wasn't going to get anywhere by waiting.
Time to make the first move.
[Charge]!
He exploded forward like a hunting cat, turning into a blur as he shot straight at Reb, sword aimed dead center.
"There it is!" the Hound muttered from the crowd. He had circled back and was watching from the sidelines. The same move that had caught him off guard in the training yard.
He'd never forgotten how fast that charge was.
Seeing it again, Sandor felt a jolt of respect—and relief that he'd decided to wait for the joust. On horseback that trick won't save you.
Back in the ring, Reb saw the charge coming.
To him it looked like a roaring warhorse was barreling straight at him.
But Reb was no amateur. He'd watched Leo fight. He'd been ready from the very first second—body, mind, and spirit all locked on Leo.
So when Leo triggered [Charge], Reb reacted in an instant.
He roared, brought his oversized longsword up, and slammed it sideways into Leo's blade with perfect timing and terrifying power.
Leo felt a massive force slam into him from the side, knocking his charge off course.
His momentum carried him straight past Reb instead of through him.
And Reb wasn't done.
The second he deflected Leo's sword, he pivoted and drove his shoulder forward in a brutal, full-power bash.
It was a classic iron mountain lean.
The result: Leo was sent flying. He crashed hard into the wooden posts at the edge of the ring, smashing several of them to splinters.
Wood chips exploded everywhere.
The crowd gasped and scrambled backward to avoid getting hit.
By the time Leo's head cleared, he was on the ground, body aching from the impact.
The next second Reb was on him, sword already chopping down.
Leo rolled desperately, dodging the follow-up strikes, then scrambled back to his feet, breathing hard.
"Your reactions are insane," Leo said, wiping blood and sweat from his face with his free hand. He raised his sword and stared at his opponent. "You're the first person who's ever stopped that charge cold."
Reb didn't press the advantage. He answered in that same low, muffled voice, "You're not so bad yourself. If I hadn't seen you fight earlier and stayed completely focused, I doubt I could have blocked it."
"You're strong. Stronger than anyone I've faced so far."
Leo grinned. "In that case… shall we continue?"
"Gladly."
This time Reb took the initiative.
He didn't want to get caught by that charge again.
The two warriors charged at each other, swords clashing in a furious storm of steel.