A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Whatever the case, any such improvements in his situation were immediately cancelled out by his own rapidly tiring body, with his ever-increasing amount of injuries. Again he dodged back, just as he had before, leaping as though off a building, barely able to keep a hold of his sword in the process.

Throughout the entire encounter, with no speed to assist him, Beam had not been able to attempt a counterattack even once. It was less a duel and more a one-sided beating. But the fact remained, that by some miracle, Beam was still alive.

There was no reason that he should have been able to last so long, not when his fight had concluded far more rapidly the last time, and he was even weaker now than he was then.

Of all those present, only Dominus noted that. He squinted hard, trying to find something. Something to set his own mind at ease. He searched for the shield that seemed to be defending Beam from certain death, and he searched for whether he could turn it into a sword and secure victory.

But there was still only that scent of before – the same minute change in disposition that he had carried back with him from his walk by the mountain river. Dominus searched to put a title to it. He didn't know quite what it was. In fact, it may have been nothing at all – aside from a bubble of potential.

'Find it, boy,' Dominus murmured to himself, clenching his fist.

The battle raged on. Ten minutes elapsed, with no end in sight. All who watched stood entranced, unable to acknowledge that such a length of time had passed. They bore witness to a desperate struggle. A fight between a hopelessly outmatched boy and beast. The more he struggled, the more they cheered for him.

Not just for his own sake, but for theirs. He offered a hope beyond his own victory – a hope that any forward facing human sought to cling to. The desperate longing that their suffering would be rewarded. The hope of a shattered reality, and the longing for the potential beyond it.

At fifteen minutes, there was a shift. Even the Hobgoblin was breathing heavily now – but that did not seem to be what caused the change. With one eye fully closed from bruising, and the other bloodshot as it desperately sought to take everything in, Beam confronted a lunging blade.

It swayed in his vision, blurring. He'd felt beyond disoriented for a while, as every blow and every dodge wracked his body with a tremendous impact.

His legs shook beneath him, begging for him to stop his foolish endeavour, to merely give up and give them a chance at rest. They swore to him, that if he attempted to dive away again, they would not support him. They would no longer lend him the strength he needed, for they did not have it – he would have to die to the Hobgoblin's blade instead.

And so, as the blade came in blurred in Beam's vision, he did not take a step back. For the first time in the fight, he dared to overturn it and attempt a counterattack. Just before the sweeping side slash landed, Beam let out a bellow, and bashed it from underneath with his own sword, redirecting it high above his head as he ducked and attempted a weak counterattack with his battered body.

The tip of his well-sharpened blade zipped across the Hobgoblin's well-muscled belly, managing a shallow wound despite its impossibly tough skin.

A dark aura escaped Beam for just a second – only Dominus noted it.

'Ingolsol,' he murmured to himself, his palms sweating as he clenched them. He could see it now – the only reason the boy was remaining standing. He was looking within himself, he was eyeing the doors of his overwhelming potential. But to reach them, he had to become a King. A King that would subordinate even Gods. That was the position he was in, an impossible one.

He had resisted the two Gods for the longest time and Ingolsol even longer. But could he convince them to serve him?

All stood there dazed as they watched the green blood drip from the wound, the Hobgoblin included. It looked down on itself in surprise, pausing a good few moments, its breath heaving, struggling to acknowledge what had happened. And then it looked to Beam with its angered red eyes, seeing him swaying drunkenly from side to side, looking as though a strong wind would be enough to knock him over.

It gave a savage roar of rage, beating its chest with its free hand, before it dove at Beam with renewed vigour, intent on ending his life for good this time.

"He got it!" Nila said in awe. "That's good, right – he's getting there, isn't he? Can't he win at this rate?" She directed her hopeful questions towards Dominus, and as a result, both Greeves and Judas were looking to him as well, valuing his opinion far more than one ordinarily would for a stranger.

But Dominus kept his eyes locked on the fight as he gave a grunt. "There's something. But he hasn't gone all the way yet. Now is when it gets dangerous."

Just as he said that, the Hobgoblin landed a massive strike, putting even more strength into the blow than it had before, intending to sever Beam in two with it. Beam raised his sword in an attempt at blocking it, but all he managed to do was stop the cutting edge – the force of the blow sent him flying.

He soared through the air for a good few meters, before he landed hard on his back, winding himself.

The Hobgoblin was on him a moment later. Even with no air in his lungs and his body threatening to shut down at any moment, Beam was forced to defend himself.

"No!" Nila couldn't help but shout. The others present shared the same opinion. From their perspective, that was a finishing blow. The boy was flat on his back, and the hulking body of the Hobgoblin was right above him.