The two returned to the arena, leaving the summit behind them. Futsunushi lightly hopped in the air, slowly floating to the ground after each tiny ascent. Johannes quit focusing his sight on his opponent and concentrated on the whole image in front of him. It was likely that Futsunushi's speed was now at levels he may not be ready for. Futsunushi, on the other hand, let go of his senses. The slight breeze brushing against his skin, the slight creaks of the wooden buildings, the metallic taste in his mouth from blood. The freedom his body now enjoyed also freed his mind. No longer subconsciously hindered by the excess weight, his mind began focusing on taking the world in. With this knowledge, he knew he could now fight at his fullest, and he would need it. Futsunushi dashed towards Johannes, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran. Taking the sword in both hands, Futsunushi brought Futsu-no-Mitama edge-down by his right side. Johannes maintained Vom Tag. The two entered into each other's range and swung. The swords collided, but Futsunushi's sword gave way and was pushed back down by Johannes' strike. What came after could only be described as…bizarre. Futsunushi, through proper footing, absorbed the force of the strike and went into a spin. Combining the force with a controlled pivot, Futsunushi spun around and swung straight down from above his left shoulder. "Futsu-Ryū Ninth Kata: Blowback!"
Johannes got his sword up just in time to block the strike. He quickly twisted it to the left to parry the blow, and felt a hard knock to the side of his head right where he was cut earlier. Mid-spin, Futsunushi freed his left hand and grabbed his scabbard. Taking both sword and scabbard in hand, he turned a single-blow counter into a two-stroke blow! Worse, Johannes' parry preoccupied both his hands and senses, catching him completely off-guard. Futsunushi did not let the opening go to waste. He stopped his spin and began shifting his hips left and right. From this foundation of power, Futsunushi unleashed a flurry of blows. They were light, but numerous. Johannes could feel each one smashing against his body. He managed to get his feet back under him and began parrying and dodging blows. Phlug, Ochs, side-step. It took all of Johannes' focus to keep himself unharmed amongst the hail of blows. He's not moving all that faster, but why's he so damn hard to read!? Johannes thought. He couldn't attack either; the hammer-strike from before and now the attack from Vom Tag showed Futsunushi could take blows without fear and even return them through counters. All he could do was weather the storm.
"I was worried he'd fail to understand what the weights were for, but looks like he figured it out pretty quickly!" Susano'o said.
"It's weight displacement," Yama said. All three looked over at him, mildly shocked. "What?"
"Did not expect you to say anything, to be honest," Set answered. "Did not think you cared all that much for this fight."
"I care how it's fought, not the people involved. Anyways, it's because of weight displacement."
"Exactly. Futsunushi is fast, far faster than most. However, it's nothing like Apollo, Zeus, or so many others. His speed comes from his weight."
"How much does he weigh?" Set asked.
"About 45 kilos."
Set and Yama stared at Susano'o in disbelief. "He's that tall, and only 45 Kilos? How's he not skin and bones!?"
"Futsunushi's godly power is simply that he is naturally lightweight. Because of that, he can move at high speeds, but where he shines is not his top speed. It's his acceleration, control, and endurance. When he does it properly for defense, he can go limp and disperse the power of his opponent's blows."
"What Sensei means is that Futsunushi is not a sprinter. He's a really fast marathon runner." Takemikazuchi chimed in.
Susano'o smiled wider. "Futsunushi's biggest weakness was that for all his speed and endurance, he lacked any sort of raw power. The weights were a way for him to generate it while also learning how to generate it once freed of them. If he truly learned what he needed, he can now add power to his speed and reach even greater heights!"
Futsunushi continued his assault, striking from every angle possible in the hopes of breaking through Johannes' defense. Tried as he might, more and more of his blows were blocked or avoided. "Is that all you have!? It's not nearly enough to beat me!" As Futsunushi swung his sword from his right to the left, Johannes stepped in with his right foot. Futsunushi reacted quickly and swung his sword back to the right. Johannes caught it in the strong of his blade, rolled it over his head with a parry, and slammed it into the ground. Futsunushi followed it, his feet lifted off the ground and thrown up into the air and to the left, but he never lost control of his second attack. His left hand, wielding his scabbard, sailed towards the same spot he struck earlier. Combining his power and the force of Johannes's parry, Futsunushi knew this one strike would cave in Johannes' skull and win the match. If only Johannes did not anticipate it. Johannes, without even looking, knocked Futsunushi's scabbard away with a quick flick of his sword. The force was not enough to redirect Futsunushi this time, but the small opening just above Futsunushi's left clavicle did not go unnoticed. Johannes swung down and slammed into Futsunushi. Again, nothing. Through pure instinct, Futsunushi relaxed his whole body, letting it crumble under the blow. The blow made Futsunushi fall to his knees, but he bounced off the ground and shot straight up, slamming the top of his head into Johannes's face. Johannes shuffled back a few steps; his vision was blurry from the blow. He managed to bring himself to a complete stop as an aura of pure dread overwhelmed him; Futsunushi took the opening to sheath his sword and prepare another attack. "Futsu-Ryū Tenth Kata; Iron Gale!"
Instinct kicked in, and he raised his sword to his chest just in time to block a powerful slash from Futsunushi. Johannes' body reeled against the blow, and he was pushed back. There's the power from earlier! Johannes thought, his inner voice full of excitement. He's learning weight application through hip movement and proper stepping! He's just like Bill and Sigmund! Johannes regained his footing, but the battle was slipping away. Futsunushi was gaining ground and slowly, but surely, reaching him. He took a quick assessment of his body and tools as he formulated a plan. In a single glance, he surveyed his sword, and a slight alarm arose. Cracks were starting to appear in the blade, specifically right above the strong where Futsunushi's last attack struck."Reginleif, are you okay!?" Johannes asked.
"I'm fine…that last blow was powerful though. Johannes, I confess I do not believe I can handle another blow of that level of power."
"I understand. That right there…that's the culmination of his training. As we are right now, we'll lose."
"We have no choice. I am leaving the timing to you."
"I'll give the signal." Johannes took his sword and sheathed it, his muscles shrinking down. The pain from his wounds intensified, and he inhaled sharply in response. Two metal clasps just below the opening of the scabbard turned and wrapped around the cross guard, holding the scabbard firmly in place. Johannes took the Phlug stance, ready to continue.
"What are you doing, Meister!?" Futsunushi shouted.
"Changing tactics, Futsunushi. I have no choice but to. I cannot get anywhere right now with my Golden Era, so I shall face you with my Golden Years!" Futsunushi squinted in hesitation. "But make no mistake! I cannot win otherwise. That's what you've done." Johannes flashed a wicked ear-to-ear grin of pure, manic joy. "You've become my dream, Futsunushi! Don't let me down now!"
The frantic aura surrounding Johannes flooded the arena. Futsunushi could feel it permeating the air, and the same manic joy warped his face into what could be described as a demon in a joyous frenzy. "With pleasure! I'll take the swordsmanship you built and kill you with it! Leave it to me, Meister!"
Yes. Johannes thought to himself. Just like them, just like those damn brats. You can achieve what so many of those before you could not, can't you? I'm glad…I finally found you.
Germany (1400s)
Believe this or not, but much of Johannes Lichtenauer's life is a pure mystery. However, if you were to ask the man himself, he would say it was just another tale of a man seeking a dream he had since childhood that he staunchly refused to let go of. Centuries ago, in the age of the German Renaissance, a man sought a dream. Born with a body and mind perfect for fighting, he travelled all over Europe to tackle this incredible dream. When asked, he would claim he wanted to be the greatest in history. This was his dream when he started his journey. Years and years down the line, he fought and trained with many masters, both the genuine and the charlatan. Through these battles, he discovered a tragedy; swordsmanship had become too diluted and corrupted. Much of the fundamentals were lost over time! Why were there so many hucksters and fakes pawning off their 'techniques,' many of which got people killed in actual duels!
It was here that Johannes' dream reached a turning point. He did not know it at the time. Initially, he claimed it was so he could get stronger and make his dream a reality. Rather than simply seeking out opponents and training, Johannes began to focus on refining his technique and adopting the usable techniques of his opponents. Now, Johannes sought not only success but a philosophy of true swordsmanship; the original form of his style, uncontaminated with lackluster innovation and shoddy form. When asked, he would claim he was not trying to create a new, unbeatable style. Rather, he desired to remove the excess and return his style to proper form. It was long and arduous, but he succeeded years down the line.
It was in the formative years that his legacy began to take shape. His prowess and technique became the envy of many. While some sought to best him, it could easily be said that ten times that amount sought his teachings. All he would say was, "I'm not a teacher. Either fight me, or get lost." However, to his dismay, he never received another challenge. Every proud swordsmanship of some renown or braggadocio came claiming their greatness to him now asked him for his teachings. To say he was disappointed would be an understatement. He failed to realize his efforts throughout the years turned him not into an ideal swordsman to best, but to learn from. It was said he eventually conceded after being hounded by a group of thirty-or-so young men, and set up a school near his home territory of Lichtenau, which even to this day is subject to debate as to which one.
Despite these changes and his new occupation, Johannes never gave up on his dream. When he was alone, he continued his training. He still desired great opponents to test himself against, which, through his school, he may now create since so many now avoided him. Sadly, his body could not keep up. His years of training and battle finally caught up to him. His joints began to ache, arthritis set in his hands, and his stamina began to fail him. What once was a powerful man who could withstand a hurricane…became an old man, a stiff breeze could push over. One moonless night, in these golden years, Lichtenauer was swinging away, reciting his Zettel mentally as he swung and performed his footwork outside his old, stone home. A fire burned nearby, illuminating the swordsman and the open field around the premises. Even in his old age and suffering a slight hunch, it was apparent to anyone observing him that he never quite lost his edge. Even the young and bold feared fighting him despite their accomplishments. Right after completing one downward slash, a sharp surge of pain erupted from Johannes' shoulders, elbows, and hands. The pain was too much for him to handle in that brief moment, and he let go of his sword. "Damn it!" He cursed under his breath. The pain was getting worse. Only a few years ago was the pain was negligible. Now, it was downright debilitating. Johannes took in deep breaths and waited for the pain to subside. He needed to continue practicing; his soul demanded it of him. His body, however, refused to comply. He stood over his sword and began to reach down for it.
"Meister, are you still practicing?" A baritone voice said from Johannes' left. He continued to reach down and pick up his sword. Holding the sword caused more pain in his hand, but he pushed through and sheathed it. He looked around for the source of the voice and saw one of his old friends and former students. The tall, middle-aged man dressed in simple gray slacks, brown boots, and a long-sleeved shirt leaned against one of the walls supporting Johannes' home. The fire barely illuminated him, but Johannes could see the gray starting to appear on the man's temples just below fading blonde hair.
Sigmund Ringeck
German Fencing Master
"Does that question even merit a response?" Johannes asked as he massaged his hands. The two never got along, even when they were starting as teacher and student.
"The only dumb question is one not asked."
"Yes, and I told you before there's no dumb questions, but many inquisitive idiots." This exchange marked their relationship for years.
"Then call me inquisitive. Why are you still up and practicing?"
"I have to keep practicing because I have students I have to teach. I need to be in good form to show them what they're supposed to do."
Sigmund laughed. "You know no one believes that. You can barely hold anything with those decrepit claws of yours."
"I can still wring your neck with them," Johannes said, staring him down. Sigmund remained unfazed and stared Johannes down. Johannes sighed and looked away. "I cannot stop. If I stop, I know I will die. Maybe not today or tomorrow. Maybe I'll live even longer by stopping, but it will be a slow death. Day by day," Johannes looked down at his shaking hands. "I will suffer and die slowly. Would you subject me to such a hell?" Sigmund straightened up and walked slowly over to Johannes.
"It's only because you made it hell. You have students at a level that they can teach in your stead. Maybe you could be in charge. Many of them are also picking it up faster than I did, so less is required of you. Plus, your Zettel is still doing exactly what you need it to do. I've travelled all over the land, and the code is keeping our secrets guarded. You've done far more for our art than anyone before you." Sigmund stood in front of his former master and close friend. "With all this, what are you really missing?"
Johannes could not look him in the eyes. He knew Sigmund was right. Though his body began to fail, he achieved much in his life, but one thing always eluded him. It was hard for him to put it into words, but they came to him eventually. "I still want to be the best. I still yearn for the challenge and the glory. Now, I can barely keep up with you. The dream that started everything has gotten so far away that I cannot reach it anymore. All of you have reached your dreams, and I'm left behind, still praying for one last chance."
Sigmund stood there, taking in what he heard. His stubborn taskmaster of a teacher bared his soul. He did not know how to console him, but he knew he could not leave this meeting without saying something to the man he respected and admired. What student could? "Meister, I never achieved my dreams, either." Johannes met his eyes. "I wanted to learn from you and beat you. I wanted to take all of this from you and make you proud of me, so you could stop doing this to yourself. Yet here we are. A failure of a student with an unfulfilled teacher."
"You wanted to beat me?"
"Of course! All of us did. We wished to become so strong, you could be satisfied with your life and leave it to us to carry your legacy. None could beat you, though. I doubt I can beat you now, and even then, it wouldn't be the Meister Lichtenauer we learned from and idolized."
"So what did you do then? Why still come here and learn from me?"
"I guess it's because we accepted we could not achieve 'that' dream, but it didn't mean we couldn't achieve another. Rather than beat you, we'd become strong enough for you to trust us with your teachings and carry them into the future. It was the best we could do, and many of us now do so. And honestly?" Sigmund smiled. "It's a lot more fulfilling than trying to beat up an old man!"
"So you gave up on the dream?"
"Not really…it's more like it changed. Dreams change, Meister. Personally, I'm glad this one did." One of the greatest regrets he had before his death was Johannes' failure to show how much Sigmund's words changed him. He never felt he had truly thanked him for the time and words. However, it was after that talk that Johannes took a step back from his training and teaching, allowing his senior students and even former students to teach. He still kept an eye on things, but continued this effort until he passed. One thing his students noticed in those final years was that he looked far more relaxed, and his back a little straighter.
"Zettel 13," Johannes said. Futsunushi quickly drew his sword and slashed. In his mania, he dashed at full speed, looking like nothing more than a blur. At the moment he reached his opponent, he performed a slash that almost seemed effortless. Johannes stepped back lightly, the blade barely missing him. Futsunushi did not wait. Before he finished the slash, he immediately twisted his wrists and swung again. Johannes stepped back once more, the blade mere millimeters from his clothing. Four seconds have passed. Futsunushi took his sword in both hands, breathed deeply, and began to swing. Left, right, diagonal, up, down, even changing trajectory mid-swing. Johannes stepped ever so slightly and shifted his knees each time, the swings barely missing. Three seconds. Futsunushi stepped forward with his left foot and thrust Futsu-no-Mitama towards Johannes' chest. Johannes brought his sheathed sword in front of his body and lightly tapped Futsunushi's attack to the left, the thrust barely grazing his left bicep. Johannes quickly snapped his wrists, tapping Futsunushi on the left and right sides of his head. The blows had next to no power behind them, but Futsunushi flinched at being struck. Two seconds. Futsunushi quickly pulled his sword back towards him as Johannes stepped back and lightly tapped him on the forehead and poked him in the chest with the tip of the scabbard. Futsunushi stepped forward with his left foot once more and stabbed with just his left hand, using the position of his earlier attack to save time and change his rhythm. Johannes parried it again and struck Futsunushi on both sides of his ribs. Turning his wrists and squatting down, Johannes struck the interior of Futsunushi's quadriceps with more force than his earlier blows. Futsunushi winced a little. He found an opportunity; the lower half of Futsunushi's body could not disperse power. However, Futsunushi caught him. His last barrage took too long, and Futsunushi pulled his thrust back edge down. The blade's edge caught Johannes' right shoulder and slid through effortlessly. One second. The force behind the slash brought Johannes down on his right knee. Futsunushi stepped to his left and took his word in both hands. Aiming the blade down and to his right, he swung his sword back up diagonally up to his left. Johannes could not react in time. The blade found its target and cut clean. A large cut grew on Johannes' chest and shirt, and blood began to pour. He fell back on the ground as Futsunushi flicked his blade free of blood and sheathed it.
"Sis! Futsunushi got him!" Göll cried out in fear.
"Damn it!" Brunhilde shouted, her grip tight on the railings.
"What a five-second exchange! These two matched move for move, but Futsunushi once again took the advantage and cut down Johannes! What a blow!" Heimdall roared.
Futsunushi stared down at the fallen figure. His joy began to slowly fade as the sight before him came into focus. Johannes was barely breathing, and the Iron Gale cut did its job. "Meister, it's over," Futsunushi said softly. "You fought well, but it's over."
"Over?" Johannes said. The pain of the cut sent his nerves into a panic, and his mind flooded with pain. Despite it, Johannes managed to lift himself and get his feet under him. "Why the hell do you all say 'it's over?' I fell over from a cut; I'm not dead." Johannes stabbed his sword into the ground, pushing against the floor to lift himself. His body ached as he rose, but he ignored it. His legs shook under him. "Also…that nonsense from earlier about leaving it, you…know what I say about that?" Johannes smiled a little.
"What?"
"Not a damn chance I'm leaving it to you, yet! I may be old, and I may be hurting like there's no tomorrow, but like you, I still have things I want to accomplish. So enough of this 'leaving it.' The only way you're getting it…is from my cold, dead hands." Johannes took his sword in hand and went into Alber.
Futsunushi could not help but smile. Both knew the endgame was upon them. Despite their desire for this match to go on in perpetuity, their bodies could not keep up. The cuts, bruises, concussions, and fractured bones piled on pain unlike anything either had felt before. It did not matter, though. This final exchange, this final lesson, held such importance between them that the world around them went silent. No words were left to share. The great might of their dreams, one for greatness and one for eternity, would now collide. The first one to move was Johannes. He began to side-step diagonally towards Futsunushi, bouncing off the balls of his feet the moment they touched the ground. Futsunushi stood completely still, waiting for Johannes. His footwork still graceful despite his age, Johannes entered right into Futsunushi's range without hesitation. Futsunushi quickly drew his sword and slashed immediately. Johannes ducked under it and tackled Futsunushi. Futsunushi sprawled his feet, grabbed Johannes, and tossed him aside. Five seconds had already passed, and Futsunushi sheathed his sword.
Is he trying to slow me down? If he stays too close like that, I cannot draw and cut him. I need distance! Futsunushi thought. Johannes rolled back to his feet and dashed towards Futsunushi once more. Futsunushi was prepared. He began to draw his sword, keeping a close eye on any subtle changes in Johannes. As he continued to draw, he saw Johannes start to duck. Now! Futsunushi slashed just as Johannes ducked. The blade aimed perfectly for Johannes' temple. Johannes leaned back on his right foot, the blade's tip barely missing the bridge of his nose. Johannes tackled Futsunushi once more, trying to take his feet out from under him. He put a little more power into the tackle, and Futsunushi dug his feet into the ground to brace against it. With Johannes wrapped around him, Futsunushi flipped his sword around into a reverse grip and raised it above his head. He stabbed straight down, a second or two to spare. Johannes stepped his right foot past Futsunushi's left and twisted around him, the downward stab cutting into Johannes' left cheek as he moved. Dropping his sword and clasping his hands around Futsunushi's waist, Johannes lifted him into the air above him and jumped.
"A German Suplex!?" Takemikazuchi screamed in incredulity.
Futsunushi hit the ground first. The power behind the slam rattled his head and shoulders. Johannes slammed his right shoulder into the dirt, wincing from the pain. He immediately got up and scrambled for his sword. He managed to grab it and put it in front of him once more as Futsunushi slashed his Iron Gale once more. Futsunushi cursed his inexperience; the application of power could only work with Iron Gale at the moment. He would need to practice more to apply it to his other kata. Johannes was knocked off his feet by the blow, but rolled and returned to his feet and stance. Just as Futsunushi attacked again. "Iron Gale!" The attack collided with Johannes' sheathed sword once more, but for the first time in the entire match, Johannes caught the attack on the strong of his blade. Shifting his weight, back, shoulders, elbows, knees, and wrists, Johannes finally parried the attack.
It was here that innovation began to occur. Through his repeated use of Iron Gale and his desperation, Futsunushi instinctively figured it out. The application of weight could be applied to his other moves. It dawned on him at that moment. The moment that Johannes parried his blow. If his opponent would willingly weaken themselves to prevent a strong counter, what do you do? Apply your own. Futsunushi spun around, performing the counter of his life. The spin brought him back into proper form, but the momentum continued his swing, stronger than ever."Futsu-Ryū Ninth Kata Revised; Iron Blowback!" Johannes took it. He managed to get his sword back in front of him one more time, but the second heavy blow destroyed his stance, the weight of the blow lifting him off his left foot and shifting all his weight onto his right foot. I got him! Futsunushi roared in his thoughts. He quickly sheathed his sword, not even needing to wait the five seconds; it was just pure habit now, then drew the fastest Iai slash he could muster. I GOT HIM!
"Now, Reginleif!" Johannes yelled. Futsunushi did not notice it. Perhaps due to adrenaline and desperation. Maybe the accumulated damage affected his awareness. Would he have noticed Johannes took a downward, slashing stance mid-fall? Would he have noticed the scabbard of Johannes' sword open down the middle, falling away and returning Johannes' strength and vitality? Johannes knew. He knew he was not paying attention and made his play. He felt the power return to his body and shifted all his weight forward, performing what could only be described as the most beautiful and terrifying downward slash that could be performed. Who would come out on top? The Fastest Sword in the Heavens or the Giant on whose shoulders countless masters built their legacies? The swords flew and made their cuts.
"Futsu-Ryū Tenth Kata: Iron Gale!"
"Zettel 9 to 14!"
The resulting attacks kicked up ferocious winds that flew in all directions. The buildings surrounding the two were blown to bits, and the kicked-up dirt obscured the arena below. The winds flew up into the audience, knocking several out of their seats. Brunhilde and Göll braced themselves against the railing and held tightly as the wind overcame them. Set and his peers remained steadfast, refusing to look away from the climax of the battle. "A storm just erupted from the arena! Everyone take cover!" Heimdall yelled.
The intense wind passed as quickly as it came. In the center of the clash stood a single figure. As the dust cleared, Futsunushi found himself back at the edge of the plateau, Johannes standing in front of him. "Tell me, Futsunushi, do you see them?" Johannes asked as he stepped to the side, flourishing his hand. Futsunushi looked out past him. Slowly, they all came into focus. A large crowd of several men and women, all wearing different clothes, different hairstyles, young and old, armed and unarmed, stood before him. Many of them looked at Futsunushi with pride and anticipation, while others looked on with caution.
"Who are they?" Futsunushi asked.
"They…are the aspects of Humans and Gods who walked the path of Mastery. Not many of them are there?"
"No…"
"I told you. It's a harsh path many fail to reach, and few stay on for long. However, they stood against the tide and are still here. Now…you are here amongst them."
Futsunushi looked out amongst the crowd to see if he recognized anyone. Among them, he managed to find Týr, Indra, Apollo, Lugh, Nuada, and other gods from his journey. There was one he was desperate to find, one who mattered more to him than anyone else. Soon, he saw him. Near the back of the crowd, standing taller than most, was his master. Susano'o stood there, beaming with pride. "It's…amazing, Meister!" Futsunushi said, smiling.
"Well then, it's time to start the next step of your journey. Ready to get started?" Johannes started walking towards the others, barely holding in his joy at bringing another into the fold. How he would do from here on was up to Futsunushi, but Johannes could not wait to see what could happen.
"Meister."
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry." Johannes looked back at him. Horror and despair erupted from Johannes' heart as blood flowed from Futsunushi's mouth. "My journey…is over." Futsunushi fell forward. A gap appeared in the center of his right collarbone and travelled straight down his torso and waist, separating his right side from the rest of his body. His right arm, just below his elbow, vanished. Instinctively, Johannes dropped his sword and caught both halves in a tight hug and held Futsunushi in place, his arms looped around just below Futsunushi's own. Even though he was light, Johannes strained to hold his dying student up.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" Takemikazuchi yelled. He turned and sprinted towards and out of the box entrance.
"Take, wait!" Susano'o shouted. He did not bother to excuse himself as he ran after his student.
Set and Yama sat alone, pondering in silence what had just occurred.
"He tricked him," Yama said.
"Looks like it…he must have waited until the last possible moment to use that trick. After all, it's not a scabbard but a book." Set sighed and slid slightly in his chair as the wind was knocked out of his sails. "Of course, it could open down the middle."
"…What are you doing?" Futsunushi asked, his voice raspy and struggling.
"I am not letting you fall. You just started…it can't end like this! Damn it, the medicine up here can do something, right!?"
"Meister…" Futsunushi struggled to lift his left arm and wrapped it around Johannes in a soft hug. "This is it. This…is what I wanted more than anything."
"Damn it, not like this…"
"Please tell my Sensei, I'm sorry. I wanted…" Johannes could feel something warm and wet hitting his shoulder. "I wanted to keep going..."
"You can tell him yourself! There's still time!" Futsunushi's body began to crack around the cuts.
"Meister…I have a favor…"
"I am not your Meister!"
"Fine then...Johannes…" Futsunushi's body began to glow green. "Please pass my sword to my Brother, Takemikazuchi. You'll…know him when you see him…" Johannes fought against the grief and steeled himself.
"I will."
"Thank you…Take…I got there first…. sorry…I couldn't be there when you made it…" Futsunushi shattered into crystal and floated away, leaving Johannes alone in the center of the arena and the destroyed town. Futsunushi's blood caked the left side of his torso and clothes, but he did his best to ignore it. On the ground by his feet, he saw the scabbard for Futsu-no-Mitama. As he picked it up, he looked around for the sword itself. He finally found it, embedded into the arena wall.
"That last slash was incredible. Put all that power you developed behind it. Still…it needed polish. A few more battles perhaps, but it was getting there." Johannes said. Slowly, he walked over to the stuck sword, the audience watching in total silence. Once in front of the sword, Johannes gripped the handle tightly and pulled it free. "It really is light. Sturdy, too. Just like you, boy." He turned the blade in his hand to a reverse grip. He took the scabbard in his other hand, guiding the blade into the opening between his arm and torso. Slowly, he pulled the sword out, edge-up along the top of the scabbard's opening and carefully guided it with his thumb. The moment the blade went past the scabbard, Johannes sheathed the blade and brought the sword and its scabbard together in a single, soft, fluid motion. The slight clinking of the scabbard made contact with the Tsuba. With the sword in hand, Johannes began his trek back to the West Entrance. His sword and scabbard vanished off the floor and reformed into Reginleif. She floated over to him and remained by his right side.
"Will you be okay, Meister?" Reginleif asked.
"No…but we won, so I will be eventually. Thank you for today, Reginleif. I got to live out a dream…one last time."
Reginleif smiled, but the sad look in her eyes betrayed any joy she tried to convey. As the two made their way, every swordsman and swordswoman in the audience, both god and human, stood as he walked. All of them raised their swords, their faces a mish-mash of joy and sorrow. Some are even crying. They all applauded in their own, unique way for the man who won the match and mourned with him; one of their own had been born, and sadly…taken too soon. "It's…It's finally over, everyone!" Heimdall roared, fighting back tears he could not understand. "The fastest blade in the Wild West finally has a name, and Humanity has tied the score! The Winner of Quickdraw and Round 4: JOHANNES LICHTENAUER!"
"He did well, all things considered," Yama said, his tone low. "What a shame."
"He did what many could only dream of, even if briefly," Set said. The two sat alone in their box as the cheers from the Human side of the arena flooded the air.
"How did he do it? None of that old man's attacks worked."
"The very thing that Futsunushi mastered was used against him…" Set said. "When Futsunushi applied the weight and movement to add the max amount of power he could generate, it was the one very brief moment he could not relax his body. As such, it was the only time Johannes could attack him and do any real damage. Combined with that sudden burst in speed and power and Futsunushi's growing impatience, Johannes threw off the timing and ended it."
Yama leaned back and sighed, his mood worsening as the air continued to fill with the shouts of joy from Humanity.
"It's our turn to pick now. What's the plan?"
"Since when did you care?" Set responded.
"We've lost twice in a row, and lost two Gods of great potential." Yama leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his fingers in front of his face. "Zeus once said, 'When we fight, we win. Such are the Gods.' It was that way when we established our reign, and must stay that way." Set pulled his tablet from his pocket and tapped away at the screen. Three names appeared, and each received one message.
The next three rounds will be Storytelling. Be ready.
One received a second message. Set received a response. It did not surprise him in the slightest. Maybe due to Futsunushi's death and the friendship forged between the next fighter and Futsunushi's teacher, or just the old God's flippant nature.
I will go.
Set swiped out of the chats and sent one final message. His hand was forced, and he knew the gamble being asked of him may bite him in the end, but Yama was right. The losses of Baldr and Futsunushi could not go unanswered. Humanity will now suffer the true wrath of the Gods, and Brunhilde along with them.
"And so it will be, Yama."
Contest for Round 5: Storytelling; Setting
Fighter for the Gods in Round 5
Nuada
Johannes Lichtenauer vs Futsunushi
Victor: Johannes Lichtenauer
Match Length: 15 Minutes 43 Seconds
Deciding Move: Zettel 9 to 14
Humans 2 – 2 Gods