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Log Horizon © Mamare Touno
This work provided under section 107 of the copyright act of 1978
Chapter 30 - Bonus Chapter
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A woman screamed.
Blood dripped from the black blade's edge. Lights flashed. The crowd cheered.
The woman disappeared into voxels, leaving behind only bloodstains. The black sword flicked out, shedding blood. In a single, practised motion, its wielder resheathed it. In a less elegant motion, he tugged a second sword free from the concrete at his feet. The second sword was aquamarine, and unconventional color for a sword. It too, was sheathed.
"And there we have it, ladies and gentlemen! The black swordsman has once again defended his title as the greatest swordsman in the Saitama prefecture! Is there anyone capable of defeating him!?"
That was Nyanta's cue.
Any two-bit showboater could enter a stadium by vaulting over the safety rails. But it took a particular kind of panache to do so nonchalantly. A kind of panache Nyanta was specialized in.
"What's this?" said the announcer. "A new foe has appeared!"
Nyanta made his way, unhurried, to the center of the stage. He lips quirked at the announcer's hype-mongering. He'd heard that phrase often, during his brief stint as one of the organizers of the Tokyo PVP League. Each time, to herald some no-name up-and-comer who wished to challenge a member of the legendary Log Horizon.
But now, the shoe was on the other foot. As far as all the onlookers knew, Nyanta was the no-name up-and-comer of the hour. Not one of them recognized him or his blandly human face, courtesy of Shiroe's species-change contract. (His years as a werecat hadn't been altogether unpleasant, but at least for the foreseeable future, he was content to stay human.) No nametag gave him away, either— those had disappeared a few months back, one of the last video game UI elements to fade away.
He could see the champion making a telepathic call as he made his way closer. Curious. From the harried look on the champion's face, it was either a mother or a lover on the other end. But whatever it was the conversation had been about would remain a mystery. The champion disconnected, and Nyanta only caught the tail end of the conversation. "—na-chan. Please don't kill me. I'll see you both later. I love you."
Nyanta approved; he'd seen too many gamers, before and after the Catastrophe, so obsessed with getting stronger that they neglected the people who cared for them.
Nyanta and the champion met each others' eyes. A classic staredown. The announcer jabbered about something in the background, but neither Nyanta nor the champion paid him any mind.
"So you've come to challenge me. Why should I accept?"
In response, Nyanta pulled out a small plastic Akatsuki figurine from his pocket. He tossed it underhand for the champion to catch.
The champion snatched it out of the air. He muttered to himself for a few moments. "First edition… Small production run… Signed!?" The champion snapped his gaze up towards Nyanta. "How the hell did you get your hands on this? The grand champion signs basically none of her merch."
"Unimportant." Nyanta made a brushing motion. "What's important is that, if you can beat me, it's yours to keep."
The champion frowned. "And what do you want in return?"
Nyanta smiled the gentleman's smile he'd perfected. "The thrill of a good fight. Do you accept my challenge?"
The champion matched Nyanta's grin with his own. "You're on."
The two shook hands, before going back to back. Then, they walked the traditional twenty pace.
"The challenge has been accepted! Get ready!"
The crowd bayed for blood. Nyanta tensed.
"Three, two, one—"
The stadium, the lights, the announcer, and the crowd all faded away. Nyanta's perception of the world narrowed down, until the world consisted only of him, his blades, and his opponent.
"Go!"
Muscles contracted and mana rushed through his veins, meat and magic working in sync. Nyanta spun around and charged.
The champion met him head on, mismatched blades held splayed out to his sides. Nyanta kept one of his rapiers pointed high, while its twin lingered at his side, ready to dart forward to exploit openings.
The champion made the first move, a slash towards Nyanta's left side. Metal scraped against metal, and Nyanta deflected the champion's blade with a flick of his wrist.
Steel scraped against bone, as he took the other blade across his rib cage.
Nyanta did not so much as flich. In the same moment as black steel cut across his flesh, the point of his rapier darted into the flesh of the champion's thigh.
The champion aborted his strike, switching to backhand grips while yanking both his body and his swords away from Nyanta. Nyanta let him go, and leapt backwards himself.
Both parties circled each other for a few moments. Stutter-stop movements lead them in a dance around the arena as they jockeyed for position.
Then it was back to the bloodletting. Gashes opened up across Nyata's body. Slashes appeared, as if by magic, across his arms, legs, and face. A cut across his left eyebrow wept blood, obscuring his vision. Not that it mattered; Nyanta could fight blind when he needed to.
Meanwhile, his opponent seemed almost pristine. Only dots of blood stained the champion's clothes, corresponding to where Nyanta's rapiers had pricked him.
Nyanta's grin became feral. The outcome of this battle was inevitable. They approached the endgame.
Their next exchange left Nyanta with no new injuries. But his opponent, in contrast, gained a new pinprick located directly over his calf. Another exchange, and the other calf was similarly marked.
The champion began to panic. Nyanta, meanwhile, began to monologue.
"We're both dual-blade style, speed-focused swashbucklers."
A parry; a response. Another drop of blood on the champion's clothes.
"But while your focus on speed was monomaniacal, I myself diversified into the status-effect causing abilities."
The champion roared. "Shut up! I'm going to turn you into a meat toboggan!"
Nyanta maintained his genteel expression. All the better to manipulate his opponent with.
"Pure speed would let you win a footrace. But a battle is much more like a chess game."
Another pass, and another injury inflicted. The champion managed a desperate slash across Nyanta's forearm. If Nyanta were to look, he knew he'd see the white of bone amidst the red of muscle. A venial wound, to an adventurer who had surpassed the level cap.
Meanwhile, a hole in the champion's kidney leaked urine into his bloodstream.
They had reached a tipping point, Nyanta knew. Equal hp. But where the champion's speed would only decrease from here on out, Nyanta's Damage Over Time effects would only continue to stack.
"Checkmate."
With rage in his eyes, the champion rushed Nyanta. One last, desperate attack.
Nyanta sheathed his twin rapiers, and raised his right hand in the universal 'stop' motion. The champion stumbled to a halt, confused.
"I concede."
"What."
Nyanta had many smiles in his repertoire. Countless varieties of the same expression: gentlemanly, approving, wise, smug, and even bemused. For this scenario, Nyanta polished off one of his favorites: the 'enigmatic' smile.
"Thank you for the fight. I hope this old man has managed to teach you something."
"But—"
"Keep the Akatsuki figurine. She thinks you have promise, and wanted you to have it. When you've learned from the mistakes you made in this fight, present it to the PVP league organizers and you'll be allowed to challenger her."
Nyanta waited around just long enough for the champion to have his 'oh' moment. Just long enough to see recognition play out across the champion's face.
"Wait, you're—"
Nyanta activated the call to home spell, and the stadium faded away.
He groaned, finally free from the scrutiny of the stadium.
"You're dripping blood everywhere!"
Nyanta shrugged. "Sorry."
He relaxed under the ministrations of his wife as her healing spells closed up his wounds.
"Daddy!" said two voices in concert. Two toddlers pounced on him. Nyanta fell over with exaggerated motions. "We saw your fight!"
Nyanta laughed. "So you did, my kittens. What did you think?"
"We tink your da best, daddy!" said the littlest one, through his missing front teeth.
"But you could have totally won, if you didn't give up!" said the older one.
"I've always told you two," admonished Nyanta. "No matter what happens in the Arena, I've already won."
Nyanta hugged his children close, ruffling his hands through their red hair in the process.
A/N: SEASON 3 CONFIRMED! In celebration, I've written a bonus chapter to remind all you followers that Log Horizon Exists. Guess what this fic just crossed over with :P (it's slightly less obvious than what you're thinking.)
I've mostly left , but if you want to read more of my writing, I'm on royalroad under the username GaBeRockKing