Title: Dual-Wielding
Genre: Action/General
Rating: T
Warnings: Blood, Language
Summary: Matt displays a different style of fighting
Prompt from: The Mighty Gyarapie (Though you've already seen it)


Lance was down on one knee, his shoulders heaving from exertion. He wiped a shaking hand across his mouth and didn't need to look at it to know he'd wiped away blood. Still, he struggled to regain his feet, knowing that Natalie and Anna were just as tired. Matt was crumpled against the wall among several pieces of cracked stone from when he'd been flung there. The ancient warrior they fought still stood strong, currently doing his best to take out Anna, who fluidly dodged and deflected the sword swings. Still, Lance knew she was growing tired, and would make a fatal mistake before too long.

Sweat streamed down Anna's face in rivulets as she caught another staggering blow with her crossed daggers. She twisted, and flipped over the swing that pulled out and swept at her with alarming speed. And then, an armoured boot caught her stomach midair and she was sent through the air, coming to a skidding halt on the ground. She twisted away from another stab, and rolled to her feet as a crackle of lighting arced from across the field where Natalie stood, using the wall as support to keep her weight off her injured leg.

Natalie cursed as the magic she'd send out was caught on the blade of the warrior's sword and directed back at her, but she merely reabsorbed the mana. Blood ran in a thick stream down her leg from a long, but shallow slice she had yet to heal. Her eyes drifted to where Matt was slumped against the wall, and she knew they needed him back up. He had been the only one who'd been able to even scratch the warrior, and as such had been taken out quickly. While Lance moved to tag team the warrior with Anna, Natalie began trying to focus on her healing magic once again. A warning shout from Lance had her jerking to the side as a dagger whizzed towards her, sinking into the stone where her head had been; her concentration was lost.

In a bewildering series of slashes, Lance was disarmed and flung aside, bleeding rather heavily from a gash on his ribs. Anna was flung next to him with a shriek of pain as the move snapped the bone of her upper arm. To their relief, the warrior turned from them, not bothering to finish them off. Their relief faded to horror, however, when they saw him heading towards where Natalie stood alone.

Lance immediately began trying to scramble up, blood running in a steady stream from his wound. His strength gave out, and he slumped back down with a low moan. Anna reached forwards with her good arm and placed her palm against the gash, and focused her own, short-range healing into the wound. But her mana was low, and while she could seal the wound, she couldn't restore Lance's energy. Tears welled in the ranger's eyes as she stared across at where Natalie stood watching her executioner approach.

Natalie knew it was over. Her magic would merely be reflected back at her, and she didn't have the skill or muscle for close range combat. Still, she kept her eyes defiantly fixed on the closed helm of the ancient warrior, refusing to show fear. The warrior seemed almost lazy in his approach, his gait was slow and his stance relaxed. He showed no signs of exhaustion, only confidence. And then, merely three feet from Natalie, a miracle occurred: Matt came whirling in from the side with his hair flying behind him as he attacked. Natalie's eyes widened in shock from seeing Matt coming to her rescue, and at his strange, new stance: he was dual-wielding two swords.

Matt brought down his weapons in an arcing sweep, Heaven's Gate grasped in his right hand, and Devil's Sunrise grasped in his left. His face was set in a snarl, made all the more terrifying by the blood staining it from a cut on his head, and his blue eyes gleamed with fury before he launched into a blur of motion. The warrior had caught his first attack with his blade, his own sword trembling under the strength behind Matt's dual sweep, and he brought a gauntleted fist up to brace the weapon.

But Matt was a whirlwind of swings. His weapons worked almost independently from each other, swinging in devastating attacks from opposite directions. He slashed them in crosses, and alternating levels and sweeps, a constant barrage of power. At one point, the warrior disarmed his left sword, but Matt's hand twisted to grasp the hilt backwards, and he continued his assault. Slowly, he began to force the warrior back, pressing him, and never letting up. His friends were stunned at the second wind and sheer ferocity of the attacks. None of them had ever seen Matt attempt to use two swords at once, but the new style was incredibly fast and effective. It also left little room for defense, however.

The warrior's blade flickered in and out, landing small blows on Matt's arms and legs. The swordsman didn't seem to notice the hits that landed, merely used the pain to fuel his assault. His own swords scored across the warrior's armour again and again, denting, scraping, and slicing. The onlookers' eyes narrowed as they realized that no blood flew from the warrior, despite the many instances when there should have been some. There was nothing inside the armour, they realized with a flash of stunned amazement.

Matt didn't notice, caught up in a berserker's battle fury. His own blood flew, but he showed no more signs of tiring than the moving armour before him. He was deaf to his friend's cries as his enemy's weapon sliced through his side and blood splashed out, and was numb to the pain of his wounds. The only way the battle would ever end would be when he or his enemy lay in pieces.

And then, that end came. The armour seemed to realize that Matt could not be taken down by normal means. It lunged forwards with a thrust, slipping past Matt's swords and slamming all the way to the crosspiece of the hilt in the swordsman's stomach. At the same moment, Matt brought his own swords down on the armour, shearing clean through the metal. The immense damage to the armour caused the rest of it to collapse with a ghostly shriek.

Matt stood panting over the remains, blood steadily dripping from his body, the long sword still sheathed in his torso. His eyes slowly cleared from their frenzied haze, and dulled. His blades fell from his grasp, clattering to the ground. The swordsman swayed in place for a moment before following his weapons down, landing in a pool of his own blood. He stared dully in front of him, his eyes glazed, vaguely aware of the panicked screams of his name. He felt no pain, already well past that point. He was, however, aware of the dull pounding of his heart in his ears. Feet appeared in his vision, splashing through the pool of his blood, and he felt a tug at his stomach before he was rolled over.

Natalie's eyes were filled with tears and her heart raced as she sprinted for where Matt was collapsed. He was still, too still, and she feared that maybe he'd already died. Certainly by the small ocean of blood surrounding him, and the weapon lodged in his body, he could have been. But the faintest flicker of his life-aura proved that he was hanging on by a thread. She slipped through the thick liquid on the ground and grasped the hilt of the weapon lodged in Matt's body. Already she was feeding healing magic into his collapsed form as she yanked back on the weapon and it slid free with a sickening sound.

Natalie was uncaring of the red staining her skin and clothes as she grasped Matt's shoulders and rolled him over. She knelt down and held her hands, fingers spread, over the horrendous wound in his torso. Matt's glazed and dull eyes stared at her without comprehension. His gaze was distant, detached almost, as his mind wandered from blood loss. Natalie gritted her teeth as felt him slipping as she worked to heal him.

"If you die, Matt, I swear I'll become a necromancer to bring you back to kill," Natalie desperately hissed. Whether her words had gotten through, or her healing had finally begun to take effect, she didn't know, but Matt's bloodless lips quirked in a faint smile.

"We wouldn't want that," the swordsman rasped. His face began to show the first realization of the immense pain he was in, and he moaned, "Oo, that doesn't feel good."

Natalie snorted and muttered, "No shit. You became shish kabob not five minutes ago." She didn't normally swear, but right now she was feeling very frayed both from nerves and exhaustion.

"How're Lance and Anna?" Matt asked after a short silence.

"Better than you, now shut up and let me work," Natalie said shortly.

Matt fell silent, surprised at Natalie's short temper. He had no inclination of how badly he'd scared her, or of just how much blood surrounded him. But as the feeling was restored to his limbs, deadened by the redirection of blood to his vitals, he became aware of a thick, sticky feeling. He rolled his head to the side, and blinked at the red staining the floor, his hair and his clothes. It took him several moments to realize that it was blood, and several moments more to realize that it was his blood.

"Holy gods… How the hell am I alive?" Matt asked, forgetting that he was supposed to be keeping quiet. He turned his far more alert gaze up to Natalie's face and started when he realized she was crying. The sight was sobering as he figured she wasn't quite sure how he was either.

And then, just as Natalie felt that she was scraping the bottom of her mana pool. Matt's last wound was healed. The mage sat back and breathed a sigh of relief that was far closer to a sob as Matt sat up. The swordsman blanched at the thick liquid, and swiftly stood. He held a stained hand out to help Natalie up, and as soon as she was on her feet, he gathered his weapons as well as the one their foe had dropped. The swordsman's clothing was irreparably stained, and his hair was sticky and clumping from blood, but he was alive. They all were.

Lance was still out of it on the ground, but Anna watched with relief as Matt stood up. Now that they were out of danger, however, her broken arm decided to remind her of how much pain she was in. She'd healed Lance's wound, but lacked the ability to heal her own. And by Natalie's limp, still favoring her own wounded leg and leaning on her staff for support, the ranger realized the broken bone would have to wait. Clearly the mage had little to nothing left of her mana.

Matt and Natalie strode over to where Anna sat against the wall with Lance nearby. The gunner was alive, but pale. The ranger's arm was twisted strangely and her face was pale from pain, but she gave them a wan smile as they approached.

"Hey," Anna greeted through gritted teeth.

Natalie frowned at the ranger's broken arm and apologized, "We'll have to splint that. I won't be able to heal you for a couple of hours." She began digging for some bandages to do just that.

Matt eyed the arm and knelt down beside Anna. He swiftly set the bone, and apologized as Anna let out a low groan of pain at the movement. A couple of metal plates and a roll of bandages served as the bind for the break. The swordsman turned his eyes to Lance, trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"I already healed his wound," Anna said tightly, fishing for her water with her good arm. "He had a slice on his side, but it's all good now." She flicked the cap in her canteen and sipped the cool liquid.

Natalie nodded, "Good. I guess we'll sit here for now until I can get everyone patched up."

"Good plan," Matt agreed, sitting down with a heavy sigh. He made a face at his uncomfortable clothing and the sensation of dried blood on his skin, but knew there was nothing for it at the moment. He'd have to wait until they were out of the ruins before he could wash. He tilted his head back to rest against the wall, and shut his eyes.

Anna suddenly spoke up, "That dual-wielding thing was amazing, Matt. I didn't realize you knew how to, though."

Matt cracked one eye open and replied, "I can fight just about any way with swords. That particular style is effective because it's fast, but there's not much you can do to defend. I can deflect attacks, and catch swings, but it's much more difficult. Most fighters who dual-wield can't do it as well as I can, though."

Natalie cocked her head and asked, "Why not?"

"Because I can move both of my arms independently from each other without accidentally taking one off, or losing my balance," Matt said with a wry smile. "I'm just as capable with both of my hands, and experienced as a fighter."

Anna nodded, "I see."

Matt suddenly yawned and mumbled, "I'm taking a nap. Wake me if there's trouble."

"Okay," Natalie agreed softly. She waited until Matt was asleep before shaking her head and murmuring, "Gods, we are so lucky he's on our side."

Anna chuckled, "Yup. I'd hate to have to actually fight him. I'm not sure we could beat him, anyway. We couldn't beat that walking armour, but he did it on his own."

Natalie nodded with a shrug, "True. I suppose he'd say he'd never have been able to do it if we weren't there to back him up, though. Or play decoy, in this case."

Anna didn't reply in words, but she did let out a sigh of agreement. She brought her good arm up to rub her shoulder in an attempt to alleviate the pain from her broke one. Still, she knew it would only be a short while before it was healed. And once everyone was healed and rested, they could move on. Treasure awaited.


A/N: So funny story, I meant to have this up about a year ago. I wrote it, meant to post it, then forgot? I think? It's honestly been so long I don't remember when exactly I wrote it. Possibly before I even finished An Epic Retelling. It's even filled with my British-isms! I was too lazy to go back and write them out, so please forgive me. XD

Leave me a review, and I'll be back some time!