Chapter 209: Fighting a Templar (1).

Lyon led Nero through the facility to a different section he hadn’t seen before.

The corridors here were wider. The ceilings were also higher, and the walls bore scorch marks and deep gouges that spoke rather odd tales of past violence.

Nero frowned. Where in the Seven Hells could they possibly be going?

They passed through a set of reinforced double doors into a chamber that could only be described as an arena.

The space was enormous, easily a hundred feet across and twice as long, with a ceiling that vanished into darkness above. The floor was packed dirt stained dark in places, and the walls were lined with observation platforms where several figures already stood watching. Nero recognized Methan and Alvi among them, along with a handful of other doctors and what looked like off-duty Templars still wearing their armor but not their helms.

In the center of the arena stood a Templar wearing a Blitzer Armor.

The Templar was massive as usual. Nero found himself just as terrified as always when standing before these massive hunks of metal and flesh.

The helmet’s visor glowed faintly with runic light, and the Templar stood perfectly still, hands resting on the pommel of an enormous sword planted in the dirt before them.

Lyon stopped at the edge of the arena and gestured toward a rack of weapons along the wall.

“Choose one,” he said simply.

Nero stared at him as his face slowly paled,

“You… you want me to fight that?”

“I want to see what you’re capable of in actual combat,” Lyon replied, his tone clinical. “The procedures have prepared your body, but theory and practice are different things. Besides, this will just be a sparring match. He has orders not to kill you. And if you are severely maimed, we can always put you back together.”

He gestured again toward the weapons. “Choose.”

Nero trembled as he walked to the rack, his eyes scanning the options. There were spears, axes, maces, and swords of various lengths. His first instinct was to reach for something similar to Gungnir, but the spears here were crude compared to his Soul-Bonded weapon. Instead, his hand closed around the hilt of a longsword, the blade perhaps four feet in length with a simple crossguard and leather-wrapped grip.

He pulled it free and tested the weight. It was heavier than he expected, different from the Silver Blade. The balance was familiar despite using Gungnir for so long, but it still sat uncomfortably in his grip.

Lyon nodded approvingly. “Good. The match ends only when either of you can go on no longer. Is that clear?”

Nero nodded, his jaw tight.

Lyon raised his voice to address the Blitzer Templar,

“Sergeant Vane, same rules apply to you.”

The Blitzer’s helmet tilted slightly in acknowledgment, and the massive figure pulled the sword free from the dirt with one hand. The weapon was enormous, easily six feet of dark steel with a blade as wide as Nero’s forearm.

Nero walked to the center of the arena, his heart pounding in his chest.

He had fought Abominations before, and had even killed Demons, granted they were not much of the real deal.

Still, this felt different.

This man before him was not a beast, monster or Abomination.

He was human. And yet, surprisingly, he felt greater danger standing before him than being enclosed within the jaws of true death itself.

He stopped about twenty feet from Sergeant Vane and raised his sword into a guard position.

Lyon’s voice echoed from the observation platform. “Begin.”

Sergeant Vane moved.

The Blitzer crossed the distance between them in three enormous strides, the armor somehow not slowing them down at all, and brought the massive sword down in an overhead strike that would have split Nero from skull to groin.

Nero threw himself to the side, the blade crashing into the dirt where he had been standing and sending up a spray of earth. He rolled to his feet and swung his longsword at the Templar’s exposed side, aiming for the gap between the chest plate and arm guard.

The blade connected with a metallic clang and skittered off the armor without leaving so much as a scratch.

Sergeant Vane turned, faster than something that size should be able to move, and backhanded Nero across the face with a gauntleted fist.

The world exploded into white light and pain. Nero felt himself lifted off his feet and thrown backward, his body slamming into the packed dirt and skidding several feet before coming to a stop. Blood filled his mouth immediately, warm and copper-tasting, and when he tried to push himself up his left arm screamed in protest.

He spat blood onto the dirt and forced himself to stand, his vision swimming. The Blitzer was already advancing again, that enormous sword held in a low guard position.

Nero raised his own sword with shaking hands and tried to think. The armor was too thick to penetrate with a standard blade, which meant he needed to aim for the joints, the gaps where the plates connected. But getting close enough to exploit those weaknesses meant getting within reach of that massive sword and those armored fists.

Sergeant Vane attacked again, this time with a horizontal slash that came in at chest height. Nero ducked under it, feeling the wind of the blade’s passage ruffle his hair, and lunged forward to stab at the Templar’s knee joint.

The tip of his sword found the gap and sank in perhaps an inch before Sergeant Vane brought a knee up and caught Nero in the stomach.

The air left his lungs in a explosive gasp and Nero doubled over, his sword falling from nerveless fingers as he clutched at his abdomen. The Blitzer’s armored boot came up and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backward again to crash into the arena wall with bone-jarring force.

Nero slid down the wall and collapsed onto his hands and knees, coughing up blood and struggling to breathe. His ribs were broken, at least three of them on the left side, and his left arm was definitely fractured from the first fall. The pain was overwhelming, making it hard to think, hard to see anything except the dirt beneath him slowly turning red from the blood dripping from his mouth.

He heard the heavy footsteps approaching and forced his head up to see Sergeant Vane standing over him, that enormous sword held parallel to his body.

Nero spat more blood and pushed himself upright using the wall for support. His longsword was somewhere in the middle of the arena, too far to reach, so he raised his fists instead and settled into an unsteady fighting stance.

Sergeant Vane seemed to consider this for a moment, then set the massive sword aside and raised armored fists in response.

They came at each other again.

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