Duellist's Road: No Shortcuts - A LitRPG Fantasy Adventure Read online

  “Seriously?” Carr asked, a single eyebrow raised. “Strange, he didn’t seem like the type to taunt his opponents.”

  “It’s not for taunting. It’s for…who the hell knows.” I threw my hands up. Honestly, who the hell understood Valle? “It’s just one of his quirks. The crowd doesn’t usually like it. I mean, they come to see displays of dominance, not matches he barely wins, you know? They love him, don’t get me wrong, but they think it’s foolish to lower your level on purpose. Makes them nervous he’s going to lose every time. But he usually keeps his [Swordsmanship] within 10 points of his opponent’s, no matter what people say.”

  “Why 10 points, specifically?”

  “That’s the general upper limit for upsets. We can calculate matches down to the minute if there is a [Swordsmanship] difference of 11 or above. But if there’s anything less than that…each point under 11 introduces some margin of error. Not a lot, but a little.”

  “And Valle always keeps his [Swordsmanship] within 10 points of his opponent?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “Nearly always. He might increase it if he feels overwhelmed, but he tries to keep it as close to that amount as possible. Why, is something the matter?”

  “Not exactly,” Carr replied. Yet he appeared concerned. I let the silence hang until he broke it himself. “He lowers his stats to the point where he can lose but he still had a 97 match streak until he met me…guess he’s not that useless, huh?” Before I could reply, realization dawned on him and a sudden frown took over. “So the crowd thinks Valle lowered his level so much he happened to lose to me, a nobody,” Carr asked, clearly annoyed. He was nearly pouting. “I risked my life to show how those stupid numbers don’t mean anything. Great. What do you think?”

  I think that you’re a fucking suicidal lunatic, but that your insanity can get me enough gold to solve that murder. But I couldn’t let that show on my face. “I was looking at your stats the whole time. Valle started out with lowered stats, but he immediately jumped from 10 to 700 when his first attack missed. Something about you must have made him take you seriously. But even though he attacked you with his full power…you still stopped it. There’s no question in my mind. You overcame the points barrier, somehow. Valle and I were shocked. As will everyone else be, once they have time to digest it.”

  Carr brought his fingertips together and took a deep breath. “So that was why he seemed to increase his speed all of a sudden. You’re telling me [Swordsmanship] increases your speed…fine. It’s not just raw power, but speed too. Whatever, I can probably deal with it. I’ve defeated faster fencers than me back home too.”

  Which is it, Carr? Can you beat them or not? He sounded vaguely unconcerned, but not wholly confident. Devoid of fear, yet hardly speaking with conviction. I needed to know whether he was just a madman or whether his weird sword techniques had a way of taking him far. Should I just gamble blindly? If I wait until I know for sure how good his skills are, I’m sure some opportunistic dickhead is going to take advantage of him before I can.

  “What do you think of that?” Carr asked, his tone less a question and more of a taunt. He’s like an arrogant kid asking me if I’m impressed. Which I was, but mostly because of how useful he could turn out to be.

  Now, how to answer him…I have to be careful. He seems like the kind of guy that doesn’t hold anything back. If I appear too coy he’s not going to trust me. I have to be a little honest. “That you’re an anomaly,” I replied bluntly. “No one has been able to beat someone with more than 10 points of advantage in [Swordsmanship] in over 90 years. Someone like you is…absurd.”

  “Okay first of all, thank you,” he said, appearing legitimately sincere and flashing an innocent smile as if I had just complimented him. Do you think being called an anomaly is a good thing? Then his face turned serious and he said, “Second of all, hang the fuck on—second person? Who’s the first? Where is he? Is he still alive? What do you know about him?”

  “In Arcadia,” I answered, narrowing my eyes at him. That was where he was, last I had heard. Maybe he had moved since. “He retired with the winnings after the match…managed to limit contact with nobility and minstrels looking for stories to tell. Hardly anybody knows a thing or two about him aside from his name.” I only knew more about him because of my old job.

  “Which is?”

  “Duartes,” I told him. “That’s all I know. If he was dead, we’d have heard about it—famous guy, you know? Even if nobody really sees him around much…he did the right thing, just using his earnings to retire. Speaking of which…” I handed him a small, but heavy pouch of gold. “Your earnings. You haven’t received the title of Champion, this was just an exhibition match, so it’s not as much as it could be. It’s how we make sure the title stays local—you have to win five matches first before you can challenge for it. But that should still be a lot of gold.”

  Carr regarded the gold warily as if it were a trap of some sort. He turned over the pouch a few times and inspected it so intently it wouldn’t have surprised me if he tried sniffing it. But eventually he opened it and let its contents fall on his hand, whereupon his attention was caught by the gold. Not by the amount, but by the gold itself. He said something about ‘back home.’ Does that mean he’s not from the Lusobritanio Empire? Is that why he’s acting so weird? Is that where those techniques come from? Ah, who cares. Sword boy could be a saint or a devil for all I cared—and he could die too, if that’s what he fancied. But if he could make me some gold beforehand…well, then him being so weak would just make for some better betting odds with those underground types.

  “How far is Arcadia?” Carr asked, after counting the gold. “Can I get there with this much money, or is transportation too expensive?”

  “Too expensive?” There was something odd about this man. He asked the wrong questions, as if he wasn’t used to living among people. Was he truly just a foreigner? “No, not…expensive. It’s not that far either. But you need the City Lord’s permission to leave the city. Same way you entered this city, remember?”

  At this moment we both had the same unspoken realization—he hadn’t entered this city legally and he didn’t even know about it. Now, saying as much out loud would have been really annoying for the both of us. So he and I shared a look of understanding, the kind you and a customer share when you know they are cheating the system but you can’t bring yourself to care because you aren’t paid enough to, so you wish them well and pretend you saw nothing.

  “Thank you for all your help,” he muttered. “Thank you…?”

  “Celle,” I answered. “My name is Celle. Thank you as well, Carr. I hope we meet again. Oh, but before you leave…” I carefully handed him the blue sphere the [Eye] had produced earlier. It was larger and bluer than any other I had seen before; most of them were smaller than a thumb and wouldn’t be enough to advance a single level. This one was much larger, nearly the size of a fist.

  Two factors influenced the size of the sphere. One, if the winner possessed lower stats than his fallen opponents. Two, the collective [Swordsmanship] between the two affected the sphere’s size as well—meaning two weak kids couldn’t produce a sphere of any significance. False duels where one’s heart was not in it did not produce spheres either.

  This was the largest one I had ever seen—small wonder, having been born from the duel between someone with zero swordsmanship against the Champion of Cresna.

  Oh, how I wanted to steal that, if only for a moment…

  If I had a sphere that large, I could get so much gold…but I could never get away with that.

  Spheres were the centre of our economy. You could level up almost any [Skill] with a sphere, but you could only earn spheres through duelling—and [Swordsmanship] was the one stat you couldn’t increase. Considering how levelling up also increases your [HP] which prolongs your life, even wealthy elites pay large amounts of money for it. For others, levelling up their skills is a matter of investment. Blacksmiths, for one, pay large amounts of gold in exchange for spheres so they can improve their [Skill] in order to produce better results and raise their prices for their services.

  And at the centre of that economy are swordsmen, who can actually produce those spheres in official duels overseen by the [Eye]. Maybe Sword Boy here is a genius after all…challenging Valle was a one in a million shot, but now that he beat him, he’s rich. It was a gamble, but it paid off. Rather than assuming him to be a reckless lunatic, maybe I should assume him to be some sort of daring, gambling genius? If he were to sell that sphere, it would mean that Carr just earned more gold in a single moment than I would in years. Maybe there was a method to his madness, after all.

  Carr took one glance at the sphere after I handed it to him, studied for a moment, then tossed it against the wall, shattering it completely and irreparably.

  “Fuck those numbers,” he muttered, in annoyed tone.

  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS CREATURE?

  I looked at him ready to curse him, mouth open and finger outstretched, yet so many obscenities wanted to be said at once that for a moment only garbled sounds came out. When my shock allowed me to focus, I stuttered out, “Y—you, b-b-broke the…why?! Even if you didn’t want to level up, you could’ve sold—”

  “No, I couldn’t. I’ll die before I participate in this system,” he spat out. “Live longer by participating in a broken system like that? Become rich through borderline cheating? Fuck that.”

  “Cheating?” I cried out. “You—you beat Valle fair and square, there’s no cheating—“

  “Winning has nothing to do with it,” he yelled back. “So, in this world people with high [Swordsmanship] are the centre of the goddamn universe—fantastic. And people who happen to be born with lower amounts are supposed to just eat di
rt? Fuck that.”

  “Are you out of your goddamn mind?” It was very unprofessional of me to say so, but it was very goddamn insane of him to break that sphere. People would quite literally kill for a sphere of that size. “For that stupid reason you—are you—serious?”

  “Listen, I know it’s absolutely petty and childish of me,” he exclaimed. Carr appeared as though he thought self-awareness negated the presence of the flaws themselves. “But listen here, the very idea of [Skills] disgusted me. I will not participate in the system nor will I benefit from it. I want to crush it.”

  He was a fucking madman. This makes making gold so much more difficult.

  “I want to destroy this system. I want to make it so that anyone, no matter what their stupid goddamn number is, can beat their most dreaded opponent if they work hard enough. So that no one is obligated to bow their heads to some dickhead with big numbers.”

  His rambling shocked and terrified me at once, yet my eyes could not leave the broken [Levelling Sphere]. What kind of lunatic broke one of those…so much wasted potential…gold…oh my lord…

  I stared at it in silence for a while.

  “You know, I am legitimately sorry about that rant and the sphere and—I—I’m gonna get going now,” Carr said, somewhat awkwardly, gesturing vaguely at the door. “Is that cool with you?”

  I nodded, hesitantly, still looking at the shards. “Y—yeah.”

  “Right, I—look, should I clean that up?”

  “Huh?”

  “I just realized I left behind a bit of a mess, if you want me to clean that up—”

  “No, that isn’t the problem, that—that is not the problem here!” My voice became more exasperated at the end.

  “I—yeah, nice meeting you. I’m gonna—” Carr turned around and looked over his shoulder, then started walking to the door, “—gonna go now. Yeah. Nice seeing you.”

  Carr flashed me a smile as he left, the kind that said “Sorry. I fully plan on doing this again in the future, but still, sorry” and hurried away. Soon as he had left I started to desperately collect the broken pieces, foolishly hoping there was anything I could do to fix it. Could I get any money if I sold this still? Who am I kidding…if I knew he was going to break it I could have just handed him a fake. Not like that brute would know any better.

  This did raise a possibility.

  Once the shock of that madman wore off, my focus turned to how to turn this situation to my advantage. I could be horrified later. If I just let him escape I would probably never see him again—and mad or not he was my best chance of making enough gold to buy that crime scene so I could solve that goddamn murder. No. It’s not that he can help be in spite of being mad…he can only help because he’s mad. I need his insanity. Anyone sane would never dare to try to enter those fights. I could use him. I needed to use him.

  I allowed myself just a few minutes to collect my thoughts and then set myself on a more pragmatic path.

  Sure the man was insane, but if he was so insistent on breaking every sphere he earned—well, he would never notice if I replaced them with fakes before handing them to him, would he now? There’s no time to waste. I ran after him, even though I thought my hurry was unjustified. There was no way he could get in trouble in the five minutes I left him alone for.

  A few moments later, chasing after him in the duel, I saw him just outside the arena, getting slapped by a very tall man.

  [Cassius the Bounty Hunter]

  [Level]: 11

  [Swordsmanship]: 670

  [Sword]: 190 (Reven Rapier)

  [Duel Record]: 76 Wins, 24 Losses, 0 Draws

  [HP]: 49

  [Skills]

  [Restoration]: 21

  [Rock]: 142

  [Poison]: 612

  [Explosion]: 321

  [Blood Duel]: 24

  [Soul Trap]: 430

  [Blessings]

  Johan’s Favour

  [Curses]

  Johan’s Favour

  “Who fucking dares?” Carr asked. His voice was closer to shock than to fury, like that of a teacher who is upset that a student had the audacity to play a trick on him.

  I froze immediately. No. Please. Carr, don’t start a fight with this man. He was the one who was going to duel against Valle originally—Cassius isn’t someone to screw around with!

  Unlike Valle, Cassius had a preference for death matches over point matches. He rivalled Valle in total points with his new sword and the difference between their totals was small enough that even I could not predict who would win between the two. Most importantly, unlike Valle, that man had no honour whatsoever. Cassius enjoyed blood.

  He was a man with nothing if not determination, having lost to Valle multiple times and attempting at finding new [Swords] to make up for the stat difference. Against anyone else he would have surrendered, but Valle’s habit of lowering his own stats during the fight made Cassius feel like he had a chance to defeat him.

  Cassius the Swordsman was a hulking man, of pure muscle and sporting a disgusting white mohawk that clashed very badly against his tailored clothes—which barely contained his bulging muscles—and he glared at me like he wanted to murder Carr, contrasting his big smile.

  “Sir,” Carr started, in a very angry tone, “I believe your hand slipped.”

  “I believe I challenged you to a duel, you fuckhead. You ruined everything for me—I was just about to beat Valle and you come here, fuck things up and think you can just leave? That won’t do. That won’t do at all.”

  “The glove referring to a duel makes enough sense for me. The rest, not so much. I don’t know how I ruined anything for you.”

  “You beat Valle before I could. The money…I could’ve made so much money if not for you. Not to mention the title, the glory! You ruined everything. Getting a title match is going to be so much harder now!”

  “Look you stupid bastard, you had the match first, and then you forfeited,” Carr cried out. DON’T TAUNT HIM. I need you alive so I can make more gold. Just…just let it go. Please. Carr, stop now! “Normally I’d say so in a more eloquent manner, but you will forgive me if the quality of my speech is lacking after being slapped in the face, you fucking coward.”

  “Coward? My new [Sword] hadn’t arrived yet! I had no way to fight him until our stats were close enough!” Cassius cried out.

  “What kind of swordsman doesn’t have a spare?” Carr asked, sounding legitimately offended. “Do you show up to the piste without a spare then whine when you get disqualified for not having a spare blade after yours breaks?”

  Neither Cassius nor me understood what Carr said, but the hulking man went on regardless. “My old [Sword] only had a power of 150. With my [Swordsmanship] it added up to 820. Valle’s combined power of his [Sword] and [Swordsmanship] added up to 867. It wouldn’t have been enough. But with my new sword, I have a total of 860…we’d have been within 10 points. I could’ve won!” He yelled angrily, but then added, more calmly, “Are you listening to me?”

  “I, uh…” Carr trailed off.

  I took a deep breath and walked toward them. A small crowd had started to encircle them, but my official uniform was enough for them to make way for me. For crying out loud. “The moment you started talking about numbers he appears to have zoned out.”

  “I, yeah. Big numbers and stuff, I got what you meant. So you want to duel me, you said? What’s on the line?”

  Cassius stepped forward. “All your prize money, and your life.”

  “And if I win?”

  I stepped in for a moment. “The arena is still open. The matches are done for the day, but we’re having demonstrations to teach kids about [Swordsmanship] and what high level fencers look like. If you’d like me to ask, I’m sure we can still use the stadium for the fight.”

  Carr nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off Cassius for a moment. “And if I win?” he repeated, staring him down.

  Cassius regarded him for a moment. “You won’t. Valle fucked up, I won’t have any mercy on you. You’re not even a real fencer. But name your reward.”

  Carr appeared to consider this for a moment in silence. My curiosity reminded me of one thing—the man’s [Investigation] was also zero. As such, he had no defence if I chose to invade his privacy and see what he thought. Sorry, sword boy. Those are the privileges of being a great detective.