Chapter 4: The Daryyl Duel

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During our training session in the gym, I could not help but notice the number of people snickering and gossiping about us behind our backs. It seemed like Ivan could not keep his big mouth shut about our duel. Evidently, most people were under the false belief that we would easily be crushed by the Super Squad. Grubby heard their untrue babble and was clearly straining to prevent himself from lashing out. Urf, on the other hand, sighed with mild annoyance whenever he heard the slander. Knowing Imbeseel, he did not hear a thing while he was lifting his five hundred pound weights with ease. In contrary, I was unsure if Stump was aware of the scandalous chatter while he was lifting his one pound weights with extreme difficulty.

When our gym session finally ended, we returned to our dorm to freshen up before lunch. As I walked out of the bathroom after showering, I saw a slip of paper limboed under our door. I picked it up and read it aloud for my roommates to hear.

“The long awaited duel shall take place at the stroke of midnight in the weapon storage room. Don’t be late. - Ivan.”

My roommates glanced at one another nervously while I glowed in steely confidence and anticipation for what will come. The rest of the day sped by in a blur.

After lights out my teammates and I snuggled into our beds with our full-armor hidden under the blankets. We all listened anxiously to the tick-tock of the main tower’s clock. At the sound of the midnight chime, we leaped out of bed, climbed out of the window and scaled down the sewage pipes with great difficulty. Half our energy was already drained after reaching the ground. Thank God we only lived on the first floor. We tiptoed across the courtyard, hoping that the clinking of our armors did not alert any attention, and reached the Sir Henry Building where the weapon storage room resided in its basement.

The Super Squad awaited us at the centre of the vast weapon storage room while stirring a giant cauldron with a long wooden pole and dropping an assortment of macabre objects into the ill-scented mix. I breathed through my mouth to avoid whiffing the unpleasant smell.

“Hello there! I’d like you to meet my new squire, Jeremiah. He reminds me of myself as a youngster, quite a feisty young lad.” Ivan said, gesturing to the boy standing to his right while dropping a toad into the cauldron with his other hand.

Jeremiah was like the evil doppelgänger of Stump. They both had the same clothes and small physique. Unlike Stump, his beady eyes blazed in maniacal malice and his mouth was fixed into a bloodthirsty snarl. His hands fidgeted around like Stump. Stump’s hands moved in small, uncertain twitches, nervously tapping his leg or scratching his fingers but Jeremiah’s jerked around violently as if he was trying to stab or choke an invisible person.

Our bitter enemies gestured for us to spit into the concoction to complete the recipe. We obliged and spat into the daryyl juice. Afterwards, Goon No.2 dropped the pole and bottled the potion in separate vials, one for each of us to drink. Ivan gave them out to everyone.

“Bottoms up.” Ivan grinned slyly. As usual, I wanted to punch his perfect teeth. I reluctantly sipped the puke-green liquid and immediately gagged, it tasted like the combination of prune juice and spoilt cheese with an extra fizz.

Suddenly, the world collapsed around me as if reality melted like ice cream, I felt a sudden wave of vertigo and the surroundings cleared as if the melted ice cream was reformed into a solid once again. The arena was a grass field with patches of brickwork and rocks covered in mosses was scattered about like an old bulldozed ruin.

“So who do you want to send out first?” Ivan asked.

I played cool. “You can have the honor of choosing first,” I replied.

Ivan agreed. “Alright. Chuck, you go first.”

“No problemo!” Goon No. 2 grunted with difficulty and stepped up.

“Hmmm, Grubby, you’re up first.” Grubby nodded and stepped forward.

I had specifically chosen Grubby to go up against Goon No. 2 due to Goon No. 2's muscle mass and heavy plated armor, which made agility and speed a challenge to him. The only downside to my plan was if Goon No. 2 managed to launch a lucky strike, I feared Grubby may not be able to survive the devastating combo attacks which would follow.

Grubby and Goon No. 2 stepped onto the arena. Grubby sprinted swiftly and steadily at Goon No. 2. Goon No. 2 swung his hammer in front of him like a helicopter blade forcing Grubby to retreat. Unfortunately, Grubby’s momentum forced him forwards so he dived to the right and rolled behind a brick wall to avoid Goon No. 2's skull-shattering hammer. Grubby kicked off the wall to make more distance between him and his opponent and began hurling a steady stream of knives at Goon No. 2. Most knives simply bounced of Goon No. 2's armor. All but one lucky shot sliced through a tiny gap, which I doubted would even slow Goon No. 2 down. Goon No. 2 lunged forward, while systematically swinging his massive weapon. Grubby jumped to the side to avoid the strike, whacked him with his dual axes and then was forced to jump away again, repeating the cycle, strafing Goon No. 2 over and over again.

I knew Grubby's attacks did not do serious harm to Goon No. 2 but it was evidently tiring him as his movements became sluggish, almost as if he was moving in water. Grubby did not wear heavy plated armor as Goon No. 2 did, giving him an advantage in conserving energy but disadvantage in protection. The battle continued and it seemed that Grubby was in the lead until a misplaced foot sprained his ankle. Grubby let out a yelp of pain as he tried to get away from Goon No. 2's strike. No longer able to evade the impending attack, Grubby could only sit and wait until the earth-shaking blow smashed onto his unprotected skull, erasing him from the contest. We all watched in curiosity as Grubby’s avatar faded from the arena and he woke up in the weapon storage room.

I gritted my teeth as I brainstormed the next course of action. The outcome of this battle certainly was unexpected. Grubby’s elimination left me with only four cards to move forth: Imbeseel, Urf, Stump, and myself. Moving me against Goon No. 2 would be unwise as moving your king in chess first would result in vulnerability and increased chances of being checkmated. Moving forth Stump to fight against Goon No. 2 would be suicidal because the inexperienced Stump would be quickly eliminated, if not immediately. Urf would not be a good candidate to fight Goon No. 2 either since projectiles were not effective against a sack of muscle covered in armor as proven by the ease which Goon No. 2 walked through Grubby’s barrage of knifes. This left me with only one option: Imbeseel.

“You’re out Imbeseel,” I shouted.

Ten seconds passed and still no hulking simpleton marching into the arena. I looked around and saw Imbeseel too busy playing with the grass to notice me. Ivan roared with laughter and I felt my ears go slightly red. I walked over to him and stepped on the grass he was playing with. Imbeseel made a sad puppy face which would have been cute if he was not a fully grown man, albeit one with a face covered in acne and unstylish facial hair which made him look like a tramp, completely unlike my carefully styled and angelic moustache. Ivan laughed even harder. My face reddened and I growled at Imbeseel. Finally, Imbeseel pouted as he dawdled towards the arena reluctantly and pulled on his visor, ready to fight.

The short battle started off with an already weary Goon No. 2 swinging a mighty blow at Imbeseel. Imbeseel sidestepped the strike with great ease and returned the favor with a blow to Goon No. 2's armored face, cleaving through Goon No. 2's skull. Goon No. 2 disappeared from the face of our imaginary world.

Ivan nodded at Goon No. 1 and Goon No. 1 stepped into the arena gracefully, completely unlike Imbeseel's humiliating entrance. Unfortunately, Imbeseel did not anticipate the entrance of his new opponent because he was too busy blindly smashing the place where Goon No. 2 used to be. He did not comprehend that Goon No. 2 had already been vanquished and thought that his enemy was still lying on the ground, unbeaten. Goon No. 1 climbed onto Imbeseel’s back and fired a single arrow into his head through a chink in his helmet. Surprisingly, that was not enough to kill Imbeseel. On the contrary, the action prompted Imbeseel to gain realisation of the death of his first adversary and acknowledged the blow of the second. He instinctively spun around, swinging his weapon with the movement of his waist. Goon No. 1 jumped back before he could be shish kebabed. Imbeseel swung again and again. Goon No.1 kept on avoiding his attacks, not doing anything offensively.

I frowned, why is Goon No. 1 entirely playing defensive? He knew that sooner or later he would be hit by a lucky strike from Imbeseel. The answer came to me when after repeating the same cycle multiple times, Imbeseel simply collapsed. At first I thought it must be been from exhaustion due to the non-stop attacks. Then I gaped in amazement, realising Goon No. 1 must have used poison-tipped arrows! Our enemies were not to be underestimated. Fortunately for us, while Imbeseel fell, his weapon flew up and struck Goon No. 1 on the temple. Although it was the barest tap, I knew from first-hand experience that Imbeseel’s weapon was more than capable of making the lightest tap a fatal one. Both Imbesseel and Goon No. 1 vanished.

“Urf, GO!” I shouted.

“Steve, GO!” Ivan commanded.

Urf and Goon No. 3 both advanced to the arena, battle-ready and prepared to prove their mettle. Goon No. 3 started off with a lightning-fast sprint towards Urf. I had expected this. After all, Goon No. 3 was an assassin. So naturally, he would be more comfortable with a speedy offensive approach. Urf responded with a flurry of arrows. Goon No. 3 strafed to the side and continued his charge diagonally, avoiding all arrows. Once Goon No. 3 came several meters ahead of Urf unscathed, Urf cursed and drew his broadsword. Goon No.3 smiled. He threw his hammer at the hilt of Urf’s broadsword, knocking it out of Urf’s hands. Next, he leaped over Urf’s head and put a sleeper hold on him as if it was as simple as a walk in the park. Urf struggled to throw Goon No. 3 over his shoulder but fell unconscious before he could succeed. Goon No. 3 held the chokehold for several seconds before unwrapping his arms off an unconscious Urf in order to retrieve an arrow from Urf’s quiver. Then he shoved the point into Urf’s throat, killing him. Urf’s avatar evaporated.

Without any second thought, I walked into the arena, weapons ready. Goon No. 3 launched himself forward with his weapon. I simply sidestepped his attack and stabbed him in the chest. He was gone in a flash.

Ivan walked into the arena, a sneer plastered on his face, fuelling my rage. I would have loved to say that the upcoming battle was epic, filled with many hardships and macho catchphrases and in the end, I eventually won against the odds. Unfortunately, it was not like that. Ivan started off with a swipe at my moustache. I yelped and instinctively moved my hand to protect my pride. Sadly, my sword was still in my hand and I accidentally stabbed myself in my face.

I felt no pain as I died. A familiar wave of vertigo washed over me and I woke up in the real world. Grubby, Urf and Imbesseel stared at me in disbelief and anxiety. The three Goons cheered in the background. I collapsed to my knees but immediately arouse to watch who would be the next one to awake: Ivan, Stump, or Jeremiah.

Click here to continue to Chapter 5: The Madman