AN: Daaamn, It's been a long time since I updated. For lack of better excuse, life busy, no time to write, basically.

That being said, here's chapter 5. This chapter has been sitting out in my doc manager for over a year.

Enjoy!

Chapter 5 - A Shield's Might

Cathedral Courtyard - Ken

The survivor's eyes didn't widen in surprise, nor was he caught off guard when the Queen of Mercenaries just simply vanished from where she stood. Immediately, keen senses he never knew he had warned him of an incoming attack, blaring into his mind like a deafening siren. His first move was to swing his machete at his left, where his mind was telling him the attack was gonna come from. It didn't. His weapon sailed through the air unhindered. Cutting through no solid matter. His eyes held a confused glare when he saw the woman's form where his machete had travelled through, a mere translucent mirage. An after-image, he concluded. Ignoring the sheer impossibility of such a move, his mind attempted to predict her pattern.

His second move, driven entirely by his instincts, was to twist his body towards the opposite direction where he had mistakenly swung his weapon. It was the correct course of action. There, he came upon the sight of the woman, on her face a beautiful, but fierce expression. She let out an arrogant smirk as she slid through his guard with ease.

Nick grimaced, failing to keep up with the woman's speed as she navigated towards him with the nimbleness of a feline. The survivor bit back a growl of pain as the woman's sword struck his side, the tip of the blade clashing with a rib. A masterful stroke that had felled many a skilled warriors before him. A practiced blow that should have ended the fight for any lesser man. As per the Queen's instructions, however, the stab was expertly adjusted to an appropriate level of strength so that it wouldn't be fatal, but still enough to do much harm. Placed at a spot in which the strike wouldn't outright kill him even if it did dig into his flesh. Maia had studied the human anatomy to a professional extent, to make even doctors and surgeons pale in comparison. It was due to this that she was so proficient in the art of killing, but more importantly, in subduing persons of interests without killing them.

The blow, should it have pierced Nick's flesh, would have avoided any major organs essential for supporting life, but would leave the victim in immense agony, unable to do battle any longer. Immobilized, crippled and defeated.

To the Princess Knight's shock, however, her sword not only did not enter the man's body as she had expected and calculated, merely piercing through the skin, but the man hadn't so much as flinched as the tip of her sword was blunted by a single rib. The sword pierced the survivor's white suit, and through his blue shirt underneath.

Stunned and caught of guard, she barely had the time to register the backhand that sped towards her face. The blow came with surprising force, like the blunt impact of a gauntleted fist, drawing blood from her nose as it landed. The mercenary grunted in pain and smothered the dizziness caused by the concussive blow. The hit caused her to stagger back several flighty steps, as she attempted to regain her footing.

Her mind instantly compared what just happened to one such incident some time ago, when a large, burly man of pure muscle and testosterone had managed to land several punches across her face and didn't even left a single bruise and barely affected her. And she distinctly remembered being exhausted and had a bit of fever that day. Whereas her current sparring partner had just so casually drawn blood from her, a Princess Knight, with a quick, haphazard backhand. This man was just full of surprises.

A second had barely passed when Maia had managed to steady herself. Instead of attacking, she had opted to mentally review the scuffle they just had, attempting to determine what went awry in the exchange, all the while maintaining an alert vigilance on her foe.

Maia stared at him, observing as the man glared at his suit, bloodied by the small blow she had inflicted. Her opponent muttered a short, exasperated complaint at the damage she had caused on his suit, audibly blabbering a chain of curses. It was mind-boggling to her how the buffoon was more concerned about his apparel than his safety. But that point was currently non-issue. What was an issue though, was his abnormal durability.

The mercenary's eyes lingered towards the slightly bloodied part of her foe's person, part curious, part astonished. Under normal circumstances, that blow should have fragmented his rib, pushed through his flesh, and suitably incapacitated him. But here he was, standing casually, her strike treated as nothing but a mild inconvenience. Ridiculous, was what it was. The occurrence was so bizarre, so utterly inconceivable that her mind refused to comprehend it. She was a Princess Knight. One of the very best and strongest in all of the kingdoms. She was not as strong as Luu-Luu or Claudia in terms of physical prowess, but her strength wasn't something to scoff at either. A very casual strike from her could put even the most sturdiest of warriors out of commission. An unarmed blow could rive a man's bones to shreds, reducing them to dust should she exert more effort into it. She could rend their fine armors to scraps of useless metal, their flesh to bloody mush. A sword strike from her was all the moredeadlier, even subdued.

Still, it was not as though the exchange was a complete loss for her. If anything, it only gave her some vital information about her foe. Information that might allow her to claim victory. One: her opponent possesses an absurdly durable body, two: he was slower than her. Learning that, she would adjust her attack potency and move patterns accordingly.

Maia was on the offense yet again. Vanishing from her spot, leaving a sizable gust of wind at her wake. She reappeared behind the suit-clad man, one of her twin swords cocked back like a piston, all too ready to strike the man at his vulnerable back. This time, she would strike with enough force to ensure her sword would plunge deep into his flesh. Then her strike came, pure and true. The slender blade's sharp, immaculate tip split the air as it traversed the distance between the Princess Knight and the man in what would have amounted to the outside observer as a split-second, and almost instantaneous to the untrained eye.

In a surprising twist, Nick had somehow anticipated the attack, managing to turn around just in time to swing his blade down to intercept the linear strike. The sharp sound of clanging metal was heard across the field, the tip of her sword forcefully slammed down towards the floor, digging a good fifteen inches into the granite, with enough force to rattle the bones in her arm. The strength behind it was almost comparable to the unrelenting blow from a halfling's longhammer. With gritted teeth, she tried to pull the slender sword back, but was forced to let go of it, lean back and jump away when Nick swung his blade in a slanted arc, barely managing to evade what should have been a grisly wound from her right hip up to her left shoulder. She somersaulted a distance away from her opponent, landing with a confident crouch.

"Tch, heh… You're pretty good, I'll give you that." Narrowed eyes of deep crimson showed determination, mirrored by the smile that graced her lips. Her voice was ripe with frustration, yet still managing to sound somewhat impressed.

Yet another thing she noticed, adding to the list she'd gathered from her opponent, was that while it is true that he was physically slower than her when it came to sheer movement, his perception and reactionary speed was simply faster. His thought process actually kept up with her movement, and that allowed him to defend, attack and retaliate against her. She'll have to resort to more creative tricks to get around that.

In response to the praise, the man adopted a confused expression, as though pretending to not understand what she meant. The man liked to play dumb, it seems. "You kidding? I'm barely keeping up with you here." He replied with a dismissive smirk, an air of nonchalance surrounding him as he straightened himself up. The man glanced down at the sword, stuck tip-first to the floor, and casually plucked it out from the ground as one would pick a withered plant. The man then tossed the weapon towards her, which she caught one-handed. A most casual gesture.

"Another round?" The man urged, to which she responded with a toothy, feral grin.

"With pleasure!"

She pounced, pushing forth from the ground with all the strength her legs could muster, left beneath the spot where her feet had been was a small crater of broken and shattered granite. In the blink of an eye… no even less than that, she was upon him, striking like a viper. And in even less time, her sword was already several inches away from his right eye. The strike was meant to partially blind him, enough to rupture his eye, but not enough to pierce through his brain.

To her continued surprise, yet again, frustratingly, the man reacted still. The man's hand went up to grasp her sword before it could reach the soft spot of his eyeball. Predictably, the hand that prevented the weapon from reaching his eye was bleeding from the wound sustained. Even so, the man looked nonplussed as he pried the weapon aside, away from its intended course. With a slight, barely audible grunt, Nick pulled the weapon in, along with her form. With a display of impressive acrobatic skills, like that of a cat, she briefly let go of the sword before bending and twisting her body to avoid the knee that was to land on her midsection. The woman, returning to grasp the sword's handle, twisted it while her opponent still held at the blade. With a hiss of pain, the man was forced to let go of the weapon as the wound on his palm exacerbated.

Taking advantage of the momentary lapse in her sparring partner's concentration as he inspected the injured part of his palm, the woman drove her other sword into the man's leg. To her satisfaction, the blade lodged into the limb, skewering through skin and flesh.

'Geez, even his muscles are this sturdy.' She internally commented when she felt her blade had a bit of difficulty pushing down its edge on the limb.

The man dropped on one knee, the barely subdued expressions of shock and pain riddled his face.

"Arggh! Jesus… Christ!" The man let out through clenched teeth, his voice a low, deep rumble.

Allowing no respite for her opponent, she lodged her other sword into his shoulder, just below his collar bone. Maia, learning from the exchange earlier, put more muscle into the stab to ensure it dug into the flesh. Just like the muscles in his leg, the ones in his shoulder also demonstrated an odd sturdiness to it, like his muscles were reinforced, like coiling iron. While it was expected for knights to extensively train their muscles to toughen them, she had not quite encountered something like what her current sparring partner possessed. It was almost unnatural in a sense. Still, her attack had been successful, plunging at the man's shoulders and coloring the white fabrics of his suit around the stab blood red. The attack elicited more garbled curses from the man, hissing obscenities at her face. Funnily enough, he wasn't even pissed that she'd stabbed him. His ire was more directed at the increasingly sorry state his suit was going through, which was only going to get worse as the fight progresses.

'What the heck is a 'dollar'?' She idly thought in wonder, hearing Nick muttering something along the lines of expensive suits, and three thousand dollars. The thought vanished from her mind not a second after, focusing her thoughts solely to the fight at hand. She ignored his nonsensical ramblings as she kept her weapons stuck in his person, her grasp continuing to apply pressure on both wounds. The man swung his machete down to strike her, but she merely let go of the weapon that was embedded on his limb and caught him by his wrist. His weapon was suspended in the air at his hold as the girl grasped his arm up like vice grip, unable to advance further. Easily, and without even looking at it, she caught the punch that aimed to land on her right cheek, also holding the limb hostage. A cruel, sadistic smirk decorated her features as she gazed down at her opponent, seemingly paralyzed, unable to move from her hold. Though no one, not even the man could have noticed the bead of sweat that ran down her cheek.

As a Princess Knight, she has had her fair share of painful experiences. She had been severely wounded before, cursed, poisoned, she had experienced every manner of suffering and affliction, both large and small in scale, and everything in between. Be it physical, emotional or mental. Her body in particular, was especially durable. She could take attacks that would otherwise kill a common man and walk out from it uninjured. She could withstand torturous pressures that would otherwise crush a normal person. She could endure blistering heat that would otherwise burn someone to cinders. The point is, that she was highly resistant to pain, and her body was superhumanly durable.

Which was why she was genuinely taken aback when the punch that she had caught actually sent an influx of immense pain coursing through her hand, and towards her arm, spreading to her body like water filling a tub. Her brain sending an unending amount pain signals stemming from the offending blow, like the start of a forest fire. She hoped that the man was ignorant of the fact that her hand was twitching and shaking ever so slightly, barely managing to keep ahold of his fist. The bones in her hand had felt like they had been pushed to their limits, tested to the absolute degree. It was like stopping a cannon ball barehanded, at point black range.

The girl's tolerance to pain, coupled with her immense emotional and mental fortitude under duress had been the attributes she needed to not actively cry out in pain then and there, as she forced a smug expression to surface, smothering the encroaching pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

The girl loomed over the man, holding his form hostage. She smirked haughtily, shooting a cold, arrogant glare at him. "What's that about not needing those things against me?" She told him, her voice was mocking, rich with derision. "You know, you can still give up."

The man frowned at her, "Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm not done yet." His voice was strained, face scrunching in pain.

All of a sudden, she felt the limbs on her hold pulling back, she didn't let go. And without so much as a warning, the man's head went forward in a savage headbutt, smashing into her face with a force so strong that she was sure her nose had to be broken. The blow rattled her brain from within her skull, her eyes rolling up beneath her eyelids as darkness took over. Him pulling back with her hold in tow made the impact all the more painful for the girl. She had to mentally comment that being punched by a semi-serious Luu-Luu in the face would have been less painful than what she was feeling at this moment.

In retrospect, she should have expected such a move. When a man's limbs were rendered useless, he would instead attempt to use anything available in his arsenal, including his head, his mouth. He would resort to underhanded tactics under enough pressure, under certain desperation. She should know, she was a mercenary who did not shy away from using ugly tactics in combat. She had done the same thing many, many times before. It got her out of trouble more often than she could count.

The fact that she hadn't expected such an attack to be used on her was an enraging thought. Enraging because it spoke of lack of battle awareness, and utter incompetence. She would sooner lay in bed with an orc than to admit both are fitting descriptions of her. Coupled with the fact that her sparring partner, based simply on how he looks and his mannerisms, did not at all scream honorable. All things considered, she heard all the warning bells, and ignored them. And that earned her a painful nose fracture, and a gnarly concussion to boot.

Maia wobbled in place like a drunkard after an overnight drinking party at the hostess bar. She let go of both his arms as she staggered back. Still through the overwhelming pain, through the massive vertigo she was currently subjected to, she was sober enough to not forget to fetch her swords, pulling them out of the man's body with a wet squelch before hurriedly, but carefully backing away from her opponent. Blood flowed out of her nostrils in streams, and she tasted bitter iron in her mouth.

The mercenary recovered merely seconds after the blow. Very casually, a hand went to inspect her nose, feeling it bent towards the right just a tad bit. She easily rectified the structure of her nose by jerking the bent bridge towards the middle, ignoring the sickening crunching sounds and the brief electricity of pain that spread in the middle of her face right after. She wiped the blood off her nose and lips with the leather cloth on her forearm as she looked at her opponent.

Smirking wolfishly, she inspected him. Seeing the man rise from the kneeling position she had forced on him just moments earlier, his lips sporting a deep grimace of annoyance. Aside from the bloodied spots from which she had jabbed him with her swords, the man looked no worse for wear. No signs of tiredness, no signs of weariness, not even signs denoting that the injuries she had inflicted on him had any effect at all.

"Shit. Really, Nick? Headbutting a girl now?" The Princess Knight baited.

"For ruining my suit, you deserved that and more…" His voice lined with annoyance, he replied.

She only raised an eyebrow at him, bemused. "Well, this is a fight after all. Your clothes are bound to get some damage."

"True enough." He said, before getting the bloodied, once fancy-looking suit off him, tossing it aside. He would continue the match with just the bloodied blue shirt underneath. "There… Now you can-!?"

The man was cut off when the mercenary attacked again. In a swirl of blasting wind, she disappeared and reappeared not at his sides, nor at his back side, but in front. It was an open challenge. Forgoing her initial tactic to outmaneuver him, deciding to fight with sheer volume instead. Maia had sought to overwhelm her opponent with a flurry of precise, fast-paced strikes. Pursuing to smother him with a barrage of heavy, brutal blows.

Her first blow was met with metal, the slender sword clashing with the thicker edge of the machete. She didn't relent, her other sword travelled faster than the eye could see, sailing through the air like an arrow. It didn't reach the fabrics of her opponent's clothes, as it was hindered by the thick blade. Again and again, she struck with the ferocity of a wild animal, with the accuracy and precision of a hunting raptor. Her strikes were chaotic, and yet technical. A salvo of expert steel and dull, heavy bladework. Alternating between unpredictably imbalanced, like the oceans amid a herculean storm, and gracefully precise, like the calm, steady streams of a river. It was a shower of light, gracile strikes and of heavy, bludgeoning blows. Each one meeting the same blade time and time again.

The loud, clanging sounds of clashing steel, a cacophony of metallic thunder roared and echoed in the battlefield. Sounds of steel fury that announce and declare the strength behind the blows within each instance of clashing metal. Each meeting of steel produced sparks of heat, demonstrating the intensity of the exchange.

To his credit, Nick only looked slightly panicked, slightly anxious as he desperately tried to parry every blow that came his way. Despite his best efforts still, her attacks would squeak through his defense every now and then, delivering light scratches and gashes on his skin. It didn't help that the mercenary had two weapons and he only had one, making defending against her erratic pattern of attacks more arduous. Even so, he had successfully blocked or parried any blow that might have caused major damage on him.

The salvo of attacks continued, ferocious and unrelenting. The storm of edge and steel slowly but steadily inundating her opponent. A scratch to the cheek that drew blood, a swipe to the arm, a cut to the leg, a slash at his shoulder. Each small blow bringing in fresh stings of pain for the man. The Queen of Mercenaries smirked victoriously. It's not going to be long now till he gives in.

She slipped a bladed strike into his unguarded side, cutting cloth and skin. Without abating her onslaught, the woman's sword sped towards his neck. The blow was blocked, swept to the side. Another was already on the way to meet his flesh, a sideward slash that aimed to carve at his torso. The mercenary made a disgruntled noise when the man parried it upwards, forcibly raising her arm along with the slender blade.

The survivor decided he didn't want to prolong the situation any longer. He wouldn't last long under the pressure, and he really didn't want any more damage to his shirt and pants. With determination in reversing the status quo, Nick went to the offense.

With one of the woman's arm high in the air after the parry, he threw a sneaky punch with his free hand before her other sword could strike. The woman perceived it, reacting to the blow by ducking under it. The man had predicted the dodge though. As the woman ducked under the blow that never came, his knee was already going up to meet her face. The Mercenary's eyes widened in alarm, instinctively putting both her arms in front of her vulnerable face in a cross. Her arms blocked his knee strike, but the blow propelled her up to a standing position, her sufficiently bruised arms still crossed over her face. Without any sort of warning, his free hand snaked towards her neck as she was still regaining her footing, latching onto it like a tight noose. The woman only had a fraction of a second to comprehend what happened when the man, with disturbing ease, raised her up in the air by her neck. Maia widened her eyes in realization as the man's hand that grasped at her neck slowly went down. And she only had time to suck in a sharp intake of air and release a short, high-pitched scream when she was very quickly, and harshly slammed to the ground with earth-shattering force, shaking hard granite beneath like the onset of an earthquake.

"Aah!" Maia screamed and clenched her eyes shut as pain rocketed her entire body, a human-sized crater forming on the granite were she lay. Thankfully, the man's hold on her neck subsided, the choking constriction in her throat vanished as well, and her breathing returned normal. She wasn't allowed reprieve though, as she saw the man had raised a fist when she forced her eyes open. Alarm bells rang and she forced her agony-riddled body to move, nimbly rolling sideways, away from the punch that very much exploded the hard granite where her head had been just a split second earlier, boring a thick hole on the cratered floor.

Nick looked at the damage his punch had caused in no small amount of shock. That… had not been what he had expected. He looked at the fragmented granite where his fist was, and then to the human-shaped crater underneath him. The numbing pain on his fist forgotten. The weight of what he'd done settling in. He… had not meant to do that at all. He absolutely did not expect to be that strong. The survivor suppressed the urge to cringe. In the heat of battle, he had forgotten that he had the Green Flu coursing through his body, enhancing his strength and endurance. He was basically superhuman now. If he's not careful, he might actually kill the girl accidentally with brute force alone. That did not sit well with him.

His worries had gone dead and buried when his brain suitably reminded him that his opponent was anything but a normal person. Seeing as she had just withstood being slammed into the floor with that kind of strength and be able to move at all afterwards. She's really, really sturdy.

'I mean, if she was a normal human, all of her bones would be like shattered glass right about now.' He internally surmised.

Now that he thought about it, it was likely that the Green Flu was responsible for him being able to react to the woman's movement. Because he severely doubted he would be able to do so normally. The girl casually moves like she was teleporting. There was simply no way for him to react to her movement. It's like trying to react to a bullet from a Magnum. If he wasn't a carrier, he would have died a dozen times over during the course of this fight. Truly, this was one of those extremely unlikely instances where he was actually thankful for the virus. Second only to when the virus killed off all the people who he owed a huge sum of money to.

'Heck, even with the Flu, I'm still having a hard time keeping track of her.' The girl was just that fast.

He watched, wary, as the girl got up in a tumble. The last of his guilt vanishing as the girl casually cracked her neck, as though being slammed to the ground with such intensity had inflicted her very little damage. His eyes stayed at her as the Princess Knight stretched her limbs. Her body was stiff and twitching, and her teeth were gritted in pain. Her body was littered with bruises and her outfit was dirtied, but other than that, she looked completely fine. Speaks just how inhumanly durable she was. He really doubted any normal person, much less a woman could walk away from that. The woman regained her composure not long after, smirking at him as she twirled her swords.

"Heh… That really hurt, you know. I've never been in this much pain in such a long time." She looked at him, an expression of weary impishness. "You really need to know how to hold back against a woman."

Nick made a playful scoffing sound, gesturing dismissively. "Yeah? Well it feels like I'll die if I did that, so…"

The Princess Knight gave him a haughty smirk, "Damn right. You're not holding back against me just because I'm a girl. I respect you for that."

Nick smirked in turn, "A girl who can beat a bunch of guys double her size, sure."

The girl smiled, a distinct look, different from her usual smirk. "Heh, at least you know that much…" She twirled her swords again, then got into a crouched stance, "Well, that's enough talk. Let's just get this over with."

The survivor narrowed his gray eyes, body tensing as the mercenary prepared to attack. "Sure." He said.

Then she pounced, and she was upon him in an instant. She didn't stab or jab him with her twin swords like he'd expected, however. The moment she came upon him, Maia spun like a top. She spun rapidly, absurdly so, that he was sure no human being could withstand spinning that fast and hard. The mercenary was in the air, her form a spinning 'T' shaped maelstrom, arms outstretched and her swords held outwards. The spinning form of the Princess Knight met his machete, the clash producing ample amounts of sparks. The girl's spin didn't mitigate in the slightest. Nick had to grit his teeth as the girl pushed him back, grinding her steel against his. The man's grip on his weapon strengthened, pushing the back of the machete's blade with a palm.

'Christ, it feels like grinding against a jet turbine!' He internally commented.

It was more than a few excruciating moments before the girl stopped spinning, locking her blades against his weapon. Unsatisfied with the exchange, the girl jumped back, then threw one of her swords towards him. The blade travelled through the air, invisible to anyone with untrained eyes. Nick was such individual, but thankfully he had the Green Flu for that. He reacted to the projectile, swiping his machete sideways, deflecting it out of its course. The projectile was only a distraction, however.

"Over here."

His mind reacted, his body spun. The survivor whirled towards the direction where he heard the voice, towards his left flank. There he came face to face with the woman, her other sword at the ready. Maia's face very briefly displayed a surprised expression, likely not expecting for him to react and recover from her distraction. Then the expression vanished quickly, replaced by a devious smirk. She came closer, but Nick's weapon was already in position to block or parry her incoming strike.

Nick watched the girl as she approached, like a hawk towards a rodent. Time seemed to slow down in his adrenaline-induced perception as yet another inevitable clash of steel was to occur. Then it happened.

He looked at her in equal parts of suspicion and curiosity when the girl gripped at the hem of her orange leotard that covered her right breast and pulled it open, revealing the large, flawless, bouncing mound of flesh underneath and the pink, perky nipple.

Predictably, the man's eyes widened comically. It was just so unorthodox, so unconventional, and so utterly out of left field. He had not at all expected a nip slip all of a sudden. He wasn't expecting for her to have the gall to go that far. And so, caught off guard and shocked beyond words, his readied blocking stance that should have undoubtedly blocked the woman's assault faltered for a moment. His mind was in disarray, attempting to comprehend her actions. Concentration broken.

Nick only managed a quick glance at the woman's face, twisted in a playfully cunning smirk, a slender tongue popping out of her pink lips in an expression of total victory, coupled with a quick, devious wink, before her sword was driven into his shoulder. The strike pierced through his flesh, eliciting a yelp of pain from the man. But it didn't stop there. The Princess Knight, savage, unmerciful and ferocious, kicked him in the most unprotected, most fragile place in his body; in the balls. And he couldn't help but think that she wasn't holding back on that one at all, as pain exploded from his crotch area to his lower abdomen. Every man in the clearing who witnessed the fight first-hand winced in mortification, shuffling in their positions uncomfortably, their hands instinctively gripped at their crotch in a protective manner.

"Ack!" He screamed, voice unnaturally high-pitched.

The survivor dropped to the ground like a useless sack of potatoes. His machete dropped from his grasp, forgotten. Both hands massaged at the violated body part as he squirmed where he lay in a fetal position. His face twisting in absolute agony.

Thankfully, his testicles were still there, intact. Yet again thanks to the Flu, most likely. But it still hurt like a bitch.

The woman triumphantly stood over him, amused. She found it funny that the man had completely ignored the metal that was sticking out of his shoulder in favor of his balls. She knelt beside him, roughly pulling her weapon off his bleeding shoulder. He didn't even flinch. Was getting kicked in the balls really that painful to the point a man could ignore any other offending damage to his body?

Still kneeling, Maia sent a victorious smile towards him. "Yield?" She chirped.

He sniffed, "Y-you bitch… m-my balls? Really?" From his position, he tried to send a baleful glare at her.

Maia merely smiled, "Take that as a lesson, newbie. That's how mercenaries fight. We don't shy away from using dirty tactics so long as we win. Remember that." The Queen of Mercenaries, as if lecturing a child, sagely replied in kind. "Yield?"

"F-fine, I yield." He gritted out. His gonads was hurting so much that he was basically paralyzed. Wholly unfit to continue fighting.

The Mercenary Queen nodded in satisfaction, before standing up, awaiting for the announcement of her victory. When she looked at the Queen, however, she came into the sight of the High Elf, staring down at the defeated man, her expression utterly horrified. The unusual sight made the mercenary pause. She had never seen Celestine show that much raw emotion in her entire tenure as a Princess Knight. The Queen stared unblinkingly at the downed man, her green, emerald eyes widened. The green in her eyes almost held no light, like it was glossed over, lifeless. Her mouth hang ajar, and she looked unnaturally paler than she'd ever been. She looked completely dumbstruck, aghast and mortified. It almost looked like she just witnessed the death of a loved one.

"Um… your Majesty?" Maia called out to the monarch in concern, who thankfully snapped out from her stupor.

The Queen blinked dumbly, "Oh, uh… huh? Ah yes, of course…" She coughed lightly, clearing her throat, "Ahem… The winner of this match, the Mercenary Queen, Maia!" The Queen announced loudly, followed by the clamorous clapping and cheering of all spectators.

The Queen held a smile, but it was painfully clear she was less than pleased. And Maia couldn't quite pinpoint what has disturbed the Queen to such an extent.

The Mercenary Queen shrugged uncaringly as she pumped a fist in the air, victorious. She basked in the limelight, bathed in the adoration of the audience of their little spar. After which, she watched as Celestine ordered two healers to fix them up. She watched, amused, as one would watch a comedy play, when the dark-haired healer awkwardly pried his hands of his crotch so she can begin the healing process. The girl, with a creeping blush on her face, hovered a hand over his nether regions as an alternating blue and green colored light started shining underneath her palm. Maia released a sigh of relief when Nick adopted a calmed expression as the light enveloped the injured area, as though relieved from the pain he was feeling. At least she hadn't broken his chances of producing children.

It took only seconds when the healer completely healed her sparring partner of his lingering injuries. The healing magic reknitting muscles with ease. The numerous slashes across his skin, the piercing holes on his shoulders and leg, all gone. Not even scars were left on his skin. It was as though he hadn't fought in the first place. Such displays of insane healing capabilities never ceased to impress the mercenary.

Nick got up on his feet, dusting himself off of dirt. She suppressed a giggle when the man grumbled slightly as he inspected the cuts on his apparel. She approached him, any and all malicious traces exhibited before all but gone, replaced only by a good-natured, friendly smile. "Hey, good job during that match. You really had me on the ropes there." Maia said cheeringly. She reached out a hand, "No hard feelings, right?"

The man looked at her hand, and then to her, then shrugged and shook it, "Yeah, whatever." Retracting his hand, he sent a mildly irked glare at her. "Going for my balls was still a bitch move though." He said, his voice laced with annoyance.

The girl only grinned in amusement, slinging a slender arm on his shoulders and burying his head on the side of her chest, much to the man's chagrin (and pleasure). "Oh don't be such a wuss about it. Just think of it this way, at least you got some valuable lesson out of it on how to fight mercenaries in the future!" The mercenary told him. Her expression turned teasing, smirking impishly, "And besides, you got to see something good out of it. So there's no problem!"

Nick made a scoffing sound, rolling his gray eyes. As if a single glance of a breast in a fraction of a second was ever an equivalent to a brutal kick to the damn baby-maker.

She let go of him and engaged in a conversation with her fellow Princess Knight's at the far side of the field. After which, he continued to inspect his clothes. "Ugh, gonna have to fix this shit." Nick grumbled in exasperation, patting parts of his blue shirt. Gliding a finger on the ripped slits on the fabrics. He trudged grumpily towards his white suit at the other side of the battlefield where he had tossed it, before flapping it in the air several times to rid the dust off it and putting it back on.

"Quite the show you put out there, lad."

A wizened voice took his attention. With a sigh, he looked towards the direction of the voice. It was the voice of one of the newer faces he'd seen, that of an old, yet well-built man. Immediately, Nick could determine that he was a warrior, a knight. Likely a high-ranking one at that, judging from his aristocratic-styled clothing, his confident, regal mannerisms and the way Claudia seemed to treat him. Nick locked eyes with him, and he couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. This guy was something else entirely. He gave off an aura that was naturally distinct from the other Princess Knights. While a Princess Knight like Maia could be metaphorically and conceptually compared to a wolf, and Claudia to a lion, this old man was beyond even those comparisons. He was a predator of predators. His eyes gave off a glint that made him shiver beneath his skin. It wasn't too different from what he felt when he was within a hearing distance from a Witch back in the apocalypse. He was a daunting presence, that was for sure.

Guy was bad news.

The man smiled at him, subtle hints of respect showing on his aged features. "You went toe-to-toe against the Mercenary Queen herself, and even almost won the match. Had it not for her… rather outlandish attacks, you would have most definitely won that match."

The survivor sent him a neutral look, "Uh, thanks, I guess..."

The man extended a friendly hand, "My name is Grave Levantine. I was one of the Knights of the Royal Order in my day. You could say I was one of the big shots around." The old man smirked.

He took the hand in a firm shake, "I see… The name's Nicolas, but you can call me Nick."

The man seemed to briefly frown at the shake, before returning to his good-natured front, "Quite a firm handshake there, lad." Both men retracted their hands, with the older man keeping the friendly smile, "As a representative of the Levantine House, I'd like to extend my assistance to a valued ally such as yourself however way I can. Being a new entity within the kingdom can become quite difficult, after all. If you need any help, just find me."

Nick smiled slightly, his eyes denoting specks of suspicion. "Yeah, thanks. That'd be great."

"Also, if you don't mind, would you like to spar with this old man some time? I'd like to test these old bones to one such warrior as yourself. I'm also willing to teach you various valuable fighting styles adopted and used by the Levantine House of knights. So what do you say?"

The American smirked wryly, "If you're any stronger than Maia, then count me out on that offer. I'd like to not feel pain as much as I can, thank you very much."

"Ha ha!" The old warrior barked a mirthful laughter. Roughly patting the younger man on the shoulder, eliciting a remarkably annoyed expression from him. "I like you, lad! I like you. Still, the offer still stands. If you want to spar and learn a thing or two about how us knights fight, I'll be at my manor."

Nick shrugged dismissively, "Yeah alright. If you'll excuse me, I need to go rest for now…" He said, eyes lingering to his damaged apparel. " And find someone who can fix my clothes too."

The man merely smiled, "Of course. Please do enjoy your stay in Ken. Remember, if you need any help, just find me."

"Right, thanks." The newbie replied emotionlessly. With a slight, respectful nod, he dismissed himself from the older man's presence. Briskly moving away from the clearing.

Cathedral - Guest Quarters

There were no functioning clocks in this place, at least as far as ones that he could understand enough to determine time, but he wagered it was about midnight when someone knocked on his door. The knock was gentle and light, likely a woman.

"Coming." He announced from within his room. His late-night visitor was rather unexpected, however.

"A-ah, sir Nick. I see that you are still up and about this late in the night…" The long, golden hair that seemed to sparkle under the moonlight, that beautiful and regal, but slightly reddened face, that sweet, melody-like voice. It was unmistakably the Queen. But what was she doing here all of a sudden, and in the dead of the night too? Perhaps just checking up on him for potential injuries from the spar earlier? Then again, she could have sent a healer for that instead of personally coming here. How curious.

He got ready to kneel to the Queen, but he relented when he remembered she had said that he didn't have to do that since they were "friends". And he had a feeling she wouldn't like it if he did that. Of course, he wasn't naïve enough to be considering a regular-ass person such as himself to be truly the friend of a monarch. That would be too ambitious, even for him. He would like it if she were to treat him as more than just a guest though.

For now, he was satisfied with his current standing in the kingdom. He wouldn't want to be too greedy.

"Ah, your Majesty." Adopting a friendly demeanor, the American greeted. Gesturing for her to go inside the room. "Please, come in."

The Elven Queen smiled. "Yes, thank you, sir Nick."

She went inside the room and sat on his bed, taking off the silky hood she had been wearing, likely to guise herself from any vigilant eyes.

Nick awkwardly stood there in front of the Queen, unsure of what to do next. Fortunately, he found his words seconds later. "Uh, to what do I owe the pleasure in this fine evening, your Majesty?"

The Queen looked at him for a moment, and giggled. "Please, sir Nick. There's no need for that. Besides, such mannerisms does not suit you." She told him, her voice as angelic as ever.

Nick wasn't so sure if she was being kind, or just dissing him. "Oh, uh, sure."

"I meant no insult, sir Nick. I simply think your true personality is more charming." She said, as if reading his mind. This woman really was far too perseptive. Well, that, or she could actually read minds. Also, "charming", huh. Never would have thought anyone would call him that.

"Really, your Majesty? Charming, me?" He playfully replied.

"Hehehe." Her sweet laughing voice lingered in his ears, like the sweet sounds of serenading cupids. "Come, sir Nick." The Queen patted at the bed beside, urging him to sit.

The Survivor was a bit hesitant, though. Being within such close proximity with by far the prettiest woman he had ever seen, who's also happened to be the Queen of the kingdom he was in, inside his room, on his bed, felt a bit dangerous. Not because he was afraid he would be overwhelmed with lust and might "attack" the Queen right there, of course. He wasn't that kind of guy, nor was he stupid or suicidal.

Sensing his hesitation, the Queen frowned. "Is something the matter, sir Nick? Am I making you feel uncomfortable?"

'Yes.' His mind answered.

"O-of course not, your Majesty..." He immediately sat beside the Queen to placate her, which seemed to work, as her frown vanished as soon he took his position beside her. "So, uh, your Majesty-" A gentle finger touched his lips, preventing him from speaking further.

"Celestine. Call me Celestine." She hushed, her voice almost a seductice husk.

Nick stiffened in his position as the elven monarch closed the gap between them. Shivering at the slightest of her touch. Shit, he thought he might've touched something soft there.

Thankfully, the Goddess Incarnate noticed his discomfort and allowed some reprieve of space as she backed away, a sly smile decorating her features. "As I told you, I do not want you to address me in such a manner when we're alone. I do not wish for us to be strangers to each other." The Queen said, her sparkling emerald eyes locking with his own. "To foster our partnership, I think it would be better to address one another with our names, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He replied, earning an enthusiastic nod from the Queen. "Then you should call me Nick then. Not Sir Nick, just Nick."

Her dazzling smile lengthened. "I would very much like that, Nick." Hearing her saying his name almost seductively sent some signals up his brain and down his groin, which he not so easily suppressed.

"...Right. Well, as I was saying... why the sudden visit, your Ma- uhh, Celestine?" Nick asked, almost failing to uphold their agreement.

At this, the elven Queen shuffled shyly on the bed she was seated on, adopting a somewhat nervous, or anxious expression. She gulped a little bit, and Nick couldn't help but notice that she was sneaking glances at him at the corner of her eyes. Well, maybe not exactly at him, more like at his... crotch? Yeah, he was sure she was sneaking glances at his crotch, or somewhere down there. The survivor wasn't sure if he was just imagining it. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. It does that quite frequently since coming here. It's like everything he sees on here are bong-induced hallucinations, but without the actual blunt.

"W-well..." The Queen trailed off, shuffling even more. A rather noticeable blush creeping on her pale features. "I j-just wanted to know... u-um... your t-t-testicles." The elf hushed shyly. The Queen finally stopped shuffling in her position and timidly stared straight at his eyes.

Nick widened his eyes, gobsmacked. A million thoughts occupied his mind, attempting to comprehend her words. Needless to say, he failed to do so. "Uh, what? My testicles?" He spouted in response, remarkably confused. Nick wracked up his mind on what the Queen could possibly be asking him that relates to his balls.

The Queen averted her quivering gaze, a furious blush overcoming her rose-tinted cheeks. "U-um, w-well..." She started, peeking at him from the corner of her eyes. "Maia's final attack... did it... did it damage it?"

Nick's eyes lit up, understanding her message. It seems like the Queen is just worried about him. Well, about his baby-makers to be exact. It honestly did hurt like hell, and he could imagine exactly how brutal it would have looked as an outside observer. Though, did she really have to come here personally. Couldn't she just send a healer to make sure he was feeling fine? Nick looked at her with curiosity, as she shuffled again in her position, her hands tucked in the middle of her thighs.

The Elven Queen spoke again, "A-are your testicles fine? D-do they not suffer any lasting damage?"

The survivor couldn't help but be amused at the current circumstance he was in. Never in his wildest wet dreams has he ever imagined being in a situation where a Queen would ask if his balls were okay. He supposed that's just how Celestine is as a person. Extremely caring, kind and trusting to a fault. He'd wondered how she even managed to survive in this world with that kind of attitude. Though he guessed being one of the most powerful and influential people on the face of the planet helped greatly with that.

"Heh..." Nick failed to suppress a small chuckle that came after.

Celestine looked at him with the cutest pout he'd ever seen. "Mou~ I-it's not funny..." The Queen said, her reddened cheeks puffed. "Now p-please tell me!" The woman moved closer towards him, inside his preferred personal space. Although that part of his mind told him that the Queen would be all too welcome to intrude into his personal space without any repercussion, something he agreed wholeheartedly. Nick on his end, had to gently push her away before any demons could possess him and do something decidedly foolish and suicidal.

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you." The survivor said, earning an anxiously interested stare from the Queen. "Yes, Your Ma-... Celestine. I'm completely fine. My... testicles are completely in tact and without any lasting damage whatsoever. That healer girl of yours really was something else." He said to the Queen reassuringly, and he had to smile when the the elf's shoulders sagged in relief. Was she really that worried about him? Does she normally get worried about random visitors as she did for him? It almost felt too good to be true, to be cared for by a Queen. Honestly, he could get used to this.

The Queen smiled at him, "I-I see. I suppose my worry was unfounded... I assume your ability to... reproduce hasn't been hampered, still?"

Nick blinked. "My ability to what now?"

The Queen adopted a cute gesture, with her index fingers touching each other. "Y-you know, your ability to make... babies." She said, whispering the last bit.

"Uh, yeah. It's fine. Completely fine. It's like I've never been kicked in the balls in the first place. Really, you don't need to be worried." He answered, somewhat bemusedly.

The blone elf adopted a somewhat unconvinced look. "Hm, perhaps I should personally look at it, to make sure it's oka-?"

Nick all too quickly shook his head, "N-no, really. I'm fine. You don't have to bother yourself with me."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm fine, really."

"A shame..."

Nick decided to ignore the Queen's dissappointment as she ceased her prodding. With a dazzling smile, the Queen finally relaxed, moving away from him. Her countenance significantly less strained, and all looks of lingering worry was no longer present.

"I see. Thank you for telling me." Celestine said, standing up as she got ready to leave the visitor's room. Knowing her knights, they would be up and about in the dead of the night looking for her. Gods above knows what Claudia would do to Sir Nick if she saw her coming out of his room at this hour. The scandal she would have to deal with. Ooh, the thought already gave her a headache. But it was worth it, knowing that her baby's chances of being born in the future was still bright.

"I'll be sure to greatly reward dear Gracie for healing you so exceptionally." Nick could swear her features darkened for a second there. "...And a suitable punishment for Maia shall be in order."

"Err..." The Survivor let out a confused noise, as she strode gracefully towards the door.

"Well then, Nick. I bid you good night. I shall be returning to my quarters." She went out the room, as Nick saw her off. "Please have a good night's rest." She smiled beatifically at him.

"Okay, do you want me to walk you to your room?" He offered.

"I would like that..." She said, her smile remaining, "But that would be too risky. Someone could see us, and well, you can imagine the scandal that would arise from that."

Nick nodded, "Point taken. Then I bid you good night, Your Majesty."

She pouted.

"I mean, good night, Celestine." The human offered his own brand of smile, made sure it looked as natural and genuine as possible.

She smiled warmly, then disappeared from his sight, melding into the omnipresent shadows of the twilight halls. Using sorcery of some kind, he assumed.

And with that, Nick closed the door and went to sleep. With everything that's happened today, God knows he needed it.

AN: That's about it for now.

As for the fight, well, I really had to wank Nick just a tad bit. I'm applying gameplay logic (like the survivors being able to take punishment, like claw slashes and bullets), to add on to Nick's stats. But it's not like Maia had amazing feats in canon as well anyway so, meh...

Thanks for reading!

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