No. Not yet.

Groaning weakly, you think you were knocked out briefly from the impact as you flew. Your left arm was dead, it taking the brunt of the hit. Your whole body hurt, screaming for you to just stop and pray the consequence for losing isn’t too severe.

Whether not wanting to give up, the adrenaline still running through you, or just plain hardheaded stubbornness, you find yourself slowly and weakly getting up. Swirling your tongue around your mouth, you spit some blood to the ground and wipe your mouth with your one good arm.

“Stubborn human.” A muffled voice speaks. Looking up, you see Murook holding his nose as he slowly walks towards you. Cringing, you hear bone cracking as the orc snap his broken nose back into place, dark red blood dripping from it. “Don’t know when to stop.”

“Same could be said about you.” You mutter, just loud enough to be heard. The beat, chanting, and shouting have all but stopped.

Looking at you, the orc chuckled. “Yeah, well, I think we both know this duel’s gonna end soon.”

He’s not wrong. It was taking all your strength not to pass out. Murook though looked like he could go at least another round or two. Unless you pull off a miracle, this duel really is going to end soon. You just don’t know what.

As Murook slowly advances towards you, it catches your attention that he walks with a slight limp. Glancing down, you see a large scar over his left knee and that’s where the limp comes from.

“Tgefl le.”

You look back up at the guard who glances at you. “What?”

“Iamta tgefl le.”

The phrase Scar said comes back to you. Iamta tgefl le. Tgefl le. Tgef-left leg. Left leg!

Aim at left leg! That’s what he was saying! If you could get in one good hit you might, might have a chance to bring him down. But how do you knock him out?

Trying to think of a way, an old memory pops up. During your travels, you met all sorts of people and professions. One day at a tavern somewhere, you struck up a conversation with a fellow traveler who offered to teach you a trick or two in exchange for buying the next round of drinks.

‘Here’s hoping I still remember the words.’ Taking a deep breath, you exhale slowly and with a determined look, you start moving forward. With your left arm hanging limply to the side, you clench your right into a fist and tuck your arm as close to your body as you can.

“Ready to go down swinging, huh?” Murook chuckled, his confident smirk back on his face. “I’ll say this much, it has been interesting. Make it a good one, Alder Dorsin.”

Let’s hope it is a good one. Taking another deep breath, you exhale through your nose and quicken your pace. Murook sees this and starts moving faster as well. Reta and the whole tribe watch as the two of you charge towards each other in what will be the last clash. The beats are silent and the chanting has ceased.

Getting closer, Murook’s smirk turns into a grin as he pulls his fist back and over his head, ready to bring it down on you.

‘This is it!’ Time seemed to slow as the two of you were a foot apart. The orc’s fist was baring down straight towards you as you got closer. At the last second, you jump forward and twist your body to the left. By a hair’s inch, Murook's fist grazes your cheek, drawing blood, as you move to the side. His eyes track you yours as the grin slowly changes to confusion as the determined look on your face hasn’t changed one bit. Planting your left foot hard onto the ground, your right shoots forward towards its target.

“AAAAAARRRGGGHHHH!!!” The orc bellows in pain as your kick hit the side of his knee hard, having him fall forward. Bright light caused him to close his eyes for a brief moment, only to open them and look in shock. Like a spring, you land on your right foot and turned. All the while, under your breath, you spoke the chant the traveler taught you. Whatever energy you had left gathered in your right fist, the charge emitting a light that mixes with your marking giving off a bright blue light the shined intensely. You glare at the falling orc, whispering.

“By the dragon’s will…” Your right shoots forward as your whole arm turns in a corkscrew motion. Murook’s eyes widen as your fist came inches to his face.

“IMPACT!”

The crack of thunder boomed in the camp when your fist made contact. You heard bone break as you hit square in the face. You roar with all your might as you put your full weight into this last punch, Murook’s body bending backward. At the apex, the large orc was fully lifted off the ground. His body flying by the **** of it. You watch as Murook's large body falls to the ground, landing hard enough that he flipped head over, and finished the flip face-first into the dirt.

There was no reaction. All the goblins looked on in shock at the outcome of the attack, half looking at the crumpled form of their chief, the other at the half-broken human wondering how he’s still standing. You all but drop to your knees, both your arms shot and useless, your right fist broken, and your entire body screaming. If Murook even lifts his head, that’s it.

You barely see Reta make her way towards the orc and kneel beside him before you fall to your side. Your last conscious moments were her standing up and shouting something.