Second Master

Twenty minutes passed quickly.

Virell appeared again in the doorway, just as calm and composed as before. “The second master is ready.”

Alice stood without hesitation, body refreshed, mind sharpened by the previous fight. She followed Virell back through the stone halls and into the sun-drenched arena. The sky above had begun to dim early evening light painting the walls in orange and amber.

This time, someone was already waiting.

The woman stood over six and a half feet tall, thick with muscle and dressed in leather armor laced with bone and bronze. Long dark hair spilled over her shoulders in wild braids, and a massive curved blade rested across her back. Her grin was wide, too wide, and her eyes burned with a chaotic fire.

“Well now,” the Amazon rumbled, eyeing Alice up and down. “This one’s small. Are you sure you sent me a fighter and not someone’s apprentice, Virell?”

Alice stepped forward, sword in hand. “I’m ready.”

The Amazon laughed, the sound booming in the stone chamber. “Brave little mouse. My name's Otrera. When I win, I think I’ll keep you. You’d make a fine sex ****. Hell if your half the fighter you act like maybe I'll even make you a concubine.”

“Try,” Alice said, voice cold.

Otrera's eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes.”

Without warning, the fight began.

Ortera struck first and was fast, far faster than Alice had expected from someone her size. Her massive blade came crashing down, and Alice barely sidestepped it in time. The stone floor cracked beneath the impact. Alice countered with a series of swift strikes, testing for weaknesses, but the Amazon’s strength and reach made her nearly untouchable.

Every blow Alice landed was met with a punishing counterstrike. Every dodge required a burst of speed that cost her more and more energy. She was matching Otrera, barely, but gaining no ground.

And the worst part?

The barbarian was enjoying it.

Her eyes glittered with wild joy. Her movements became faster, more brutal. Barbarians weren’t just strong. They grew stronger with every moment of combat. The longer they fought, the more dangerous they became.

Alice was being pushed back.

Sweat trickled down her neck. Her breathing came faster. Otrera grinned as she advanced, each strike like a hammer, each blow meant to break bones.

Alice could keep this up, but the problem Ortera would only be getting stronger. She was clearly a barbarian and for all their skills, barbarians were most famous for increasing their strength and speed as battle continued. She needed an edge.

So she reached inside deeper than she had before.

Magic surged up from her core, bright and burning. She let it flow to her fingertips. As she parried another blow, she raised her free hand and fired a fireball point-blank. Otrera spun away, surprised, barely dodging.

Alice pressed the attack steel in one hand, flame in the other.

She slashed, then cast. Struck, then fired. Fireballs danced through the air, forcing Otrera to defend with both blade and movement. For the first time, the barbarian looked like she was having to think.

But even that wasn’t enough.

With a roar, Otrera rushed forward in a blur of fury and muscle. Alice raised her sword, but the impact of the barbarian’s charge knocked her off balance. She staggered and then pain. A sudden, sharp slice tore across her side as Otrera blade broke through her defense.

Her magical shield dulled the strike, keeping it from cutting deep, but the blade hit. Alice cried out and dropped to one knee, hand clutched to her ribs.

Otrera raised her sword to finish it.

But Alice had already gathered her power.

Eyes blazing, she unleashed the lightning she’d been building. It struck like a spear from the heavens crackling, white-hot, and blinding. The bolt slammed into the Amazon’s chest, lifting her off her feet and sending her crashing into the arena wall with a boom that echoed across the mountains.

Silence.

Otrera lay sprawled on the ground, her blade smoking beside her.

Alice remained on one knee, panting, blood dripping from her side.

The barbarian stirred, groaned, and then laughed.

“That,” she said, coughing. “Was fun.” She slapped the stone beside her. “I yield, girl. You’re more than you look.”

Alice slowly stood, swaying but steady. “Thanks.”