“Haaaaaah!”
Meanwhile, a sonorous war cry split the air over the arena at the First Order’s training complex. The source of the cry, a fearsome knight known as Daz, launched an aggressive attack, his wooden sword descending swiftly towards Lloyd.
But Lloyd, with his exceptional foresight, sidestepped the blow with pinpoint precision. Where he had stood moments before, Daz’s sword sliced only through air.
Daz, frustrated, clicked his tongue loudly and reset his stance, ready to strike again. A heavyweight fighter, Daz always possessed considerable strength behind his strikes. It was only recently, at Lloyd’s suggestion, that he’d started to focus on enhancing his agility and stamina, significantly boosting his overall combat effectiveness.
The air hummed with the whoosh of Daz’s sword, now striking and swaying at a pace that belied his bulky frame. His opponent, however, was still Lloyd, the renowned Ebon Reaper of the First Order, and Daz’s newfound speed alone was not about to help his sword find its mark.
Or at least, it wouldn’t have. Normally.
To an onlooker, Lloyd appeared completely at ease, dancing around Daz’s sword with grace, but beneath his composed exterior...
Strange, I can’t seem to focus...
Lloyd’s mind was in turmoil. Usually, he was a master of combat, perfectly attuned to his opponent’s every move. He would observe their gaze, analyze their swordsmanship, gauge their movements, and even listen to their breathing—all to outmaneuver them with precision. This heightened awareness was his ultimate weapon, a mode of fighting that was only available to someone raised to be a soldier, almost instinctual.
That instinct today, however, was clouded by the memory of Chloe as she bade him farewell this morning.
Have a good day at work, Lloyd!
Her bright and cheerful voice reverberated with startling clarity in his head, slowing his reflexes, weighing down his body, dulling his mind. But as he clung to that memory, a more immediate, gruffer shout snapped him back to reality. “Eyes on the prize, Lloyd!”
He’d lost his focus, and Daz’s sword was already bearing down on him.
I can’t dodge it.
In an instant decision, Lloyd raised his sword to block Daz’s ferocious strike.
Crack!
Pain shot through his arms as the two swords collided, the impact resonating deep within him. His feet dug into the sandy arena floor as he struggled with all his might not to buckle under Daz’s powerful assault. As he pushed back, trying to regain his footing, Daz’s superior weight bore down on him relentlessly.
A triumphant grin spread across Daz’s face. His strike was calculated, and with both of Lloyd’s arms occupied, Daz unleashed a powerful kick to Lloyd’s flank.
Lloyd grunted in pain and was sent reeling backwards. He tumbled to the ground, his foothold lost. He hastily tried to straighten his form to readopt his guard—but it was too late. Daz had already closed the gap.
“I’ve got you now!” he bellowed. His sword carved a vicious trajectory towards Lloyd. At the last possible moment, the sword halted abruptly; then came down to a gentle tap on Lloyd’s shoulder.
A hush fell over the arena.
A stunned moment passed. Two moments. Then...
“Daz wins!” the referee’s voice boomed, igniting an uproar in the amphitheater.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Daz roared. He paced triumphantly around the arena, fists pumping in the air, reveling in his rare victory over the Ebon Reaper.
In the wake of Daz’s victory, his fellow knights gathered around him, their cheers filling the training complex. “Let’s go, Daz!” one exclaimed. “That’s Lloyd you just beat!”
“Well, I’ll be darned,” another added, clearly impressed. “Seems you aren’t just all bulk after all.”
Daz responded with a loud laugh. “Who’s bulky, huh?” His tone was playful, basking in the rare moment of triumph.
Lloyd, still sitting on the arena floor and watching the scene, let out a soft sigh. His face was as impassive as always—marred by the slight pout that had formed on his lips.
Was someone upset they’d lost, perhaps?
Before he could dwell on the defeat, the crowd’s attention turned to him. “Good show, Lloyd!” one knight encouraged.
“Ah, don’t let it get to ya. Daz just had the upper hand that time,” another chimed in.
“Even the Ebon Reaper has his off days, am I right?”
It was a circle of warm encouragement and supportive comments for a duel well-fought—a scene that would’ve been unthinkable just a short while ago. His colleagues used to keep their distance, hesitant to engage with him. But a recent event had shifted that dynamic.
Daz then stepped towards Lloyd, extending a hand. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah,” Lloyd replied quietly, accepting the hand and pulling himself up. “Thanks. Those were some good moves back there.”
Daz’s laughter boomed at the compliment. “A fluke is all that was! I wasn’t sure that last move would work, but hey, it did!”
“Choosing to follow up with a kick in that position was indeed risky,” Lloyd remarked. “But you controlled yourself well.”
Daz slapped Lloyd on the back, grinning widely. “All thanks to you and your training regimen! Who knew mobility was so important, huh? Watch out, world—Big Man Daz isn’t just about strength anymore!”
Watching this, the other knights fell into their own hushed conversation. “Daz has been keeping up with Lloyd’s hellish training regimen?”
Another nodded. “He’s got my respect for that.”
“Anyone would improve after going through all that,” a third agreed.
Since bridging the gap with his fellow knights, Lloyd had taken a more active role in their development, offering tailored guidance to each. His intentions were noble, aiming to bolster the strength of the Order. It was just...his training regimens were notoriously rigorous, often daunting enough to intimidate even seasoned knights at first glance.
Daz, with his already formidable physique and endurance, was the sole knight who consistently kept pace with Lloyd’s demanding course.
Amid the postduel conversations, a new voice chimed in. “Master Lloyd! Here, a towel!”
Short, impeccably trimmed platinum blond hair. Striking amber eyes. The fresh academy graduate and First Order cadet Luke Gimul held out a cold towel. Slightly shorter than Lloyd, Luke stood straight in his immaculately maintained uniform.
“Thanks, Luke,” Lloyd said, taking the offered towel.
“And should you need anything else, just let me know. I’m here to serve!” Luke exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with adoration.
Lloyd nodded. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine.”
Luke had once been a rival of Lloyd’s, their conflict coming to a head when Luke challenged Lloyd to a duel for Chloe’s affection. After Lloyd’s decisive victory, Luke had shifted his stance, pledging his unwavering loyalty to Lloyd and becoming his most dedicated follower.
Luke Gimul, once a formidable adversary, now seemed more like a devoted servant. As these thoughts floated through Lloyd’s mind, so, too, did Chloe’s words after his victory over Luke. I...I knew you would win, she had said with such sincerity, such clarity.
Not again, Lloyd thought, a tinge of frustration creeping in. I’m on duty, he reminded himself, trying to shake off the distracting thoughts, but to no avail. To his dismay, Chloe’s image would persist, occupying his mind just a little while longer.