Machinist of Mana

Reflecting back on it later I found I had been a bit hard on most of my opponents through the day. They were children, had trained like children, and fought like children. To most of them this was just another sport, another thing to do, and while some were quite skilled they lacked the sort of controlled aggression that could really change things. They became flustered easily, angry easily, and didn't know how to focus not anger or rage, but just aggression, for there is a difference.

In a fight, and this was a fight regardless of what my mother thought, aggression can be the difference between victory and loss. Skill is of course also an important part of things, but if you don't apply it correctly you cannot use it. Beyond that you'll need strength and speed, the basis by which one applies what they know.

Two strikes landed on my blade, skidding and bouncing back. Across from me my opponent had his teeth clenched, nearly snarling as he charged, only to find me closing, turning to throw him off, and nearly taking him off of his feet. I scored a hit on his leg as he tried to reposition, before advancing again, my own dulled blade leading the way.

He tried to recover, bring his weapon back up and into the way, only to find it slapped aside and me striking him again. In trying to back off he finally tripped and that was all but it for the match. Unable to rise without me allowing it and unable to effectively fight back from his back he soon lost. A bell soon rang, indicating that the round was done.

“That was a good fight,” I said, holding my hand out to help him up.

“Not good enough.” Looks like I'd hurt his feelings. He still took my hand though, and rose beside me.

“Best I've had all day,” I offered, and it was true, though I still wasn't even sweating.

“Thanks, care to go again some time?”

“I'd love to.”

Mother had pushed me hard, very hard, and while I'd thought the adult fighters were something the kids were not so much. It looked like there was a big gap, as well there might be, particularly as people got older and grew into their magic. I also realized that I was a lot stronger and faster than my peers, the physical magic in me above what they could manage. I wondered why, or how that was grown. Perhaps that I had the mind of an adult? Maybe something with genetics was involved? One day I should ask someone.

The semifinal now over I found my way to the small side area for some water. The next match would only be in a few moments, so I didn't have time to waste, and there I got eyes on young Lucas Starshine. Rowena's brother was a year or so older than me and looked much like her, but with short hair and laughing eyes. He'd breezed through his matches, blitzing his opponents with speed. Of course it was he who'd meet me in the final match.

Another bell and we walked out to the floor.

“Your sister asked me to beat you,” I told him, trying to gauge his reaction.

He chuckled as he put on his mask. “Did she now, well I'll have to have a conversation with her about it later.”

“I'd hate to let her down you see, so I'm afraid I'll have to oblige.” I got the feeling that this would be real fun.

“You're welcome to try,” he said as the bell rang and we both charged forward.

If the previous matches had been boring this one was anything but. Speed and strength between us were almost perfectly matched, and he was no newbie. With a year or so on me he'd seen tournaments, fought in them, and knew what to do. While neither of us was able to do the almost anime-like moves the adults could with our speed we'd have simply overpowered even skilled swordsmen from Earth, masters could have out-skilled us, but even they would have trouble keeping up.

Steel flashed and flashed again, a chorus of rings and the sound of metal scraping metal played like fast music through the arena. Neither of us could get a clean hit, could make our blades or points touch the other, no matter how hard we tried.

I slashed and he blocked, then turned his blade trying to plant the point in my stomach. What followed was almost a dance, the edges never separating as we stepped, forwards and back. I ducked as he pushed moving under his arm and sword. Eventually our blades locked and we both leaned in, trying to overpower the other.

“You're good!” Lucas enthused, right before he punched me in the stomach.

Strikes, while uncommon, weren't against the rules, and even if it didn't hurt much it was enough to throw me back and take my breath for a second. In that second he seized control of the bind, tossing my blade skyward with a flourish.

There was a gasp from the crowd as I lost my sword, and of course my opponent did the natural thing, tried to thrust forwards. Under the eyes and collectively held breath I slid to the side, one hand wrapping around Lucas' wrist while the other went under his arm. Throws weren't illegal either and I got a good ten feet as other boy was sent tumbling in the air.

While he flew I ran, sliding to catch my sword. As I did so I saw him roll, push off the ground and spin mid-air to land on his feet, if very out of stance. As he did the bell rang twice. Nobody had scored any points yet, so we were in a sudden death phase, the next strike determining who would win.

Time seemed to stop as we looked upon each other, then we both charged. Once more our blades met before we did, and we both turned our hands, trying to control the line of the other's thrust. The point of Lucas' blade passed my face, not even an inch away, while immediately after mine landed into his chest, right over his heart.

The crowd, while small, gave a hearty cheer as we bowed to one another and I was presented the small medal for winning. There was a prize, but it was to be donated to charity, and it wasn't much anyway since this was just a small event. Commoners normally kept their prizes, but as nobles we had 'expectations' on us, and giving it to the poor was one of them.

At the end of it all I found my way back to my mother and her friend. Lucas, while seeming a bit flustered at losing took it rather well for a kid, though not perfectly.

“I'll win next time,” he challenged me.

“You're welcome to try,” I answered with a laugh. He guffawed before leaving us to change.

“Thank you for that Percival,” Rowenna said after he'd left hearing distance, smiling at me.

“Well, how could I deny your request? Though he may be even more insufferable until we have a rematch.”

“Probably,” she laughed. “Well, I should hope to see you again soon, if you'd please excuse me.”

I gave a small bow as she left, going to join up with her sibling and their mother once more. That night we received a small envelope, inviting us to join them for a dinner party in around a week's time. Briefly I wondered if that would have come should I have lost, but with mothers playing their games it may well have. At any rate, it would be my first real social engagement.