My Servant System

Three rapid slashes rained down on Batu, each strike of the guard’s shamshir crashing down on Batu’s lance as the man used the thick weapon to block each attack, his shield hanging uselessly by his side as he protected himself from the relentless barrage of slashes, each one batting the lance down somewhat and bringing the curved blade closer to his face.

Meanwhile, behind him, the two guards regained their footing and rushed back towards him, pincering him between the powerful and agile shamshir and their scimitars, which were once more clad in flames as they lunged forwards, aiming to end this battle as rapidly as they could.

"How will he get out of this, I wonder..."

Jahi’s mutter was exactly what we were all thinking as we leaned forwards, frowning slightly at how he had been so efficiently and easily trapped by the guards; with his lance being locked in place now as the shamshir ground against it from above - the weight of its wielder keeping his lance in place - and two deadly killers closing in from behind, it was hard to imagine a way that he might come out of this unscathed.

He was unable to raise his boot to stomp, since that would lessen his strength and make it almost guaranteed that that shamshir would bore down on him and press him against the ground, which made us all curious on what he could do, what tricks he had remaining... or if he had just been too confident and had just cost us some money with his arrogance.

Batu tilted the lance and slightly put that guard off balance, lessening the pressure on his primary arm and allowing him to turn himself slightly as he raised his scorched stone shield, blocking the twin cuts that had threatened to cut his back into ribbons and trapping himself between the three, locked in a very deadly stance as he blocked all three attacks at once.

I narrowed my eyes as I leaned even closer, staring at him closely as I watched him use every ounce of his strength to lock these three into a stalemate, but what had really caught my eye was the way he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with oxygen before tilting his head back slightly to reveal his throat, which had previously been shrouded in shadow and covered by his armor.

Inked into that tender, delicate flesh was a Ritual Circle, and I felt slight surprise course through my veins as I realized what he was going to do, a unique method to achieve a similar result that I was all too familiar with amusing me greatly.

It wasn’t an invocation - something I had become somewhat familiar with thanks to the various Fiendish Cults loving that style of magic - but instead a traditional Ritual Circle that made use of what seemed to be Wind Magic, though the runes weren’t completely identical to the ones I was used to using.

Perhaps, just like with languages, even the runes that were used throughout the world for magic were different based on the area you were located in, similar to dialects and how languages could use similar characters in their written form to mean different things, or change how something sounded.

Personally, I found that fascinating as Batu’s chest expanded, the man taking in as much air as possible while that tattoo on his neck began to shimmer, the lines glimmering as he sought to activate the enchantment and cast whatever spell was etched onto his flesh; just like how I had no actual elemental attunement to the tattoo on my left arm, he didn’t match the criteria for the tattoo on his throat naturally, but it didn’t matter since he must have had a way to supplement the mana he needed.

It only took a second or two to fill his lungs to the brim, and when he did so, the usually quiet and serious man let out a deep, guttural shout that blasted the three guards back a few steps as the Ritual Circle activated, creating a wave of compressed, almost solidified air around Batu that shot outwards, pushing them back and sending them all to the ground, each of them crashing with a dull thud as the wave continued to press them against the sand.

Of course, the downsides of such a unique and potent attack was made obvious right away as Batu gasped for air, the spell likely working in very unique and interesting ways that turned the mana filled air he inhaled into the contents of the spell, meaning he needed to expel most of it for said spell, leaving him breathless and in desperate need of even more oxygen. He seemed well accustomed to this state though, perhaps through practice and training thanks to its obvious downsides, so he was still able to hoist his lance up high and crash it down across the shamshir guard’s chest, breaking their ribs and taking them out of the fight indefinitely, unless they knew some form of wind based healing magic, or had a potion on hand.

Once more the two scimitar wielding were forced to get to their feet, but this time they had to do so against the pressure of that spell, though it was weakening very swiftly as they pushed against it, wreathing their bodies in flames and allowing their mana to devour that pressure.

They got up just in time to deflect the piercing stabs aimed at their chests, each clash of their flaming blades against the blunted rocky lance filling the air with sparks as they began to give everyone the show they were looking for.

To us, it was more of the same fighting that we were accustomed to; entertaining, but nothing special, so we were left to marvel at the idea of such an interesting tattoo being used, all while they traded blows one after another, going tit for tat as both sides whittled one another down slowly.

It was a long battle, the thrusting attacks from Batu pairing with his stomps perfectly as he maintained that basic yet effective fighting style, not changing what was working as he made liberal use of the shrapnel and his raw strength to push the two flaming scimitar wielders back, gradually wearing them down.

He wasn’t unscathed though, their flames singing his forearms and even charring his cheek a little, turning his dark skin a cherry red as the skin blistered, providing mild discomfort that kept him from battling at his best, but by this point the match was gradually coming to a close, the victor almost decided.

The first scimitar wielder fell after they unluckily got smacked in the temple with a chunk of rock, their blade blocking the view of the shrapnel and leaving them unguarded for that, knocking them out and turning this into a one versus one, the odds of the match shocking the audience a little as they witnessed a very rare occurrence of the house potentially losing. Batu began to show off as he played with the guard, making use of his shield more often now as he parried the guard’s scimitar, creating openings that he never capitalized on, like he was a teacher showcasing how easily they could defeat their student as he guided the guard to improve, which incensed them somewhat as they fought with some more vigor than before. The problem I always had with showboating like this was made obvious as the shamshir guard groggily stood up, clasping their ribs and letting a vial drop softly into the sand, their injuries getting healed by a potion as they stared at the Wekalian from behind, doing their best to mask their presence as they slowly grabbed their weapon and began to advance.

The crowd of course was of no aid to the poor guard, their gasps and murmuring alerting Batu to something being off, so upon his next parry he whacked the guard with his lance before spinning around and swinging his weapon blindly to start, all while his boot lifted off the sand and prepared to summon more spikes to defend himself.

As the second scimitar guard dropped to the ground unconscious as well, the shamshir wielding guard was once again battered down to the sands as the lance struck a grazing blow on their upper thigh, taking them off balance and sadly making their return to the battle very

Short lived.

"That was..."

"I imagine blue balls feels like this; I think that’s one of the few times I am actually irritated watching a fight. Batu would have lost that if it wasn’t for the crowd being a bunch of

Pansies!"

Anput’s hiss was something we could all agree on, even Leone, who tended to be rather neutral in terms of fighting; it felt so... wrong, to see Batu win in this way, but I just let out a sigh and looked towards Cyra, who was staring blankly at the arena, likely hoping that she wasn’t going to be held responsible for us winning so much money.

After all, I just made myself 180 Gold - 45 placed on him initially with 2-1 odds, earning me 90 Gold with his first win, and now with this second win... that was doubled again, so I made a rather large amount of money for doing no fighting of my own.

I can see why this is addicting, and considering the delayed cheers and even a few screams of joy as people jumped up and down at this incredible turn of events, I also realized how addicting it could be, making me wonder just what crazy things some of these people had done to place a bet...

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