The Valiant Contest: The Art of War

The Circle of Warriors

The dust in the combat pit settled as the eight warriors of Boulderkeep formed a semicircle around Tlandar.

Above, Val'katl's warriors gripped the fence edges, their voices rising with excitement, their anticipation turning into thunderous chants. The contest had begun.

From his elevated platform, Chieftain Val'katl stood tall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. This was not a spectacle to him—it was judgment.

His warriors were elite. Trained in the most advanced futuristic melee combat techniques, wielding high-tech weapons designed for non-lethal yet overwhelming takedowns.

Tlandar did not move.

His mind absorbed every detail, calculating movements, measuring their weight shifts, recognizing subtle intentions in their grips and postures.

Then, the first warrior moved.

The Twin-Bladed Staff Master

The warrior spun his twin-bladed staff, a self-charging energy weapon, designed to deflect strikes and create openings. It hummed as it cut through the air, its speed near-impossible to track.

Most fighters would have struggled.

But Tlandar had mastered the military martial arts of Salgar.

He moved like flowing water, not against the attack, but with it.

The first blade came from the right. Tlandar twisted along the ground, sliding beneath the spinning weapon like a serpent weaving through the sand. The second strike followed instantly—he spun low, shifting weight from shoulder to hip, redirecting momentum.

A single precise dagger flicked from his fingers.

The warrior barely managed to block it, and in that moment—Tlandar was inside his guard.

He spun on his palm, sweeping his opponent's leg with an impossibly fluid motion, then twisted his body to coil his legs around the warrior's weapon arm.

With a wrenching motion, the staff flew from the man's grip, clattering against the pit floor.

A snap movement of Tlandar's wrist sent a second dagger skidding across the dirt—not at his opponent, but at his feet. A warning.

The warrior stumbled back, yielding.

The crowd exploded in cheers.

One down.

Seven remained.

The Gauntlet Fighter and the Spear Duelist

The second and third warriors attacked in tandem.

One bore plasma-enhanced gauntlets, his armor reinforced with impact-absorbing energy fields. His strikes were not quick, but powerful enough to send armored opponents flying.

The other wielded a long, high-frequency spear, its vibrating blade capable of cutting through reinforced armor plates.

Tlandar did not retreat.

He advanced.

The gauntlet warrior swung, aiming for a devastating strike to the ribs.

Tlandar didn't dodge—he deflected.

His hands moved with pinpoint precision, guiding the strike past him with a minimal energy shift, his feet already adjusting for the counter.

The spear lunged forward—the tip flashing as it sought to pin him.

Tlandar dropped low, but not with a simple dodge.

He twisted along the ground, pivoting on one hand while his legs coiled beneath him, using his own torque to redirect the spear's energy.

A flick of his fingers, and two daggers left his grip.

One clattered against the gauntlet fighter's wrist, forcing his grip loose. The second embedded itself into the ground directly in the spear-wielder's path, forcing him to hesitate.

Hesitation was all Tlandar needed.

He slipped behind the spear-wielder's shoulder, hooking his own arm around his opponent's wrist and twisting—forcing the spear out of his hands.

The gauntlet warrior tried to recover, but Tlandar was already on him.

He struck precisely between the armor plating, a calculated nerve strike forcing his opponent's muscles to seize for half a second—just enough for Tlandar to slam him down onto the dirt.

Two more warriors defeated.

The crowd roared in disbelief.

Val'katl remained silent, but intrigued.

Five warriors left.

The Twin Swordsmen – A Dance of Blades

The next two moved in perfect harmony, wielding high-frequency Val'katlan blades, their combat synchronization beyond human capability.

They attacked as one.

Most warriors would have retreated.

Tlandar did not.

Instead, he moved into the storm.

The first blade came from above. The second from below.

Tlandar's hands blurred, intercepting both strikes with minimal movement, guiding them just past his body.

He moved with such inhuman precision that it seemed as though he was always just barely out of reach.

The crowd was stunned.

He did not block.

He redirected.

The swords flashed again, and Tlandar twisted his body, shifting his weight in an impossible motion, sliding beneath their combined assault without breaking form.

He struck the first swordsman's wrist with his palm, the blade flying loose.

In the same motion, he caught the weapon mid-air and used it against the second swordsman, bringing it to his throat in a single, fluid motion.

The second warrior froze.

The first raised his hands in surrender.

Tlandar tossed the sword aside, uninterested.

Seven warriors down.

One remained.

The Final Challenger – The Immovable Force

The last warrior was the largest.

He wielded a shockwave hammer, a gravity-infused weapon designed to disable opponents with concussive force.

He did not rush.

He advanced slowly, methodically, his hammer resting against his shoulder.

The crowd fell silent.

Tlandar shifted his stance, adjusting.

A warrior of this size and power was not defeated with strength—but with control.

The hammer swung down with incredible force, the ground trembling beneath the impact.

Tlandar had already moved, sliding along the ground, spinning like a flowing current of water.

His body moved beneath the hammer's descent, passing inches from destruction, but untouched.

He struck precisely at the warrior's joints, forcing his weight to shift.

A flick of Tlandar's wrist, and a dagger embedded into the armor's exposed wiring.

The giant warrior's balance faltered.

Tlandar spun in a final, fluid motion, using his opponent's weight against him, forcing him onto his back.

Silence.

Then—an eruption of cheers.

The Verdict of Val'katl

Tlandar stood in the pit, his breath steady, his focus unshaken.

Above, Val'katl stood, arms still crossed, his gaze unreadable.

The warriors surrounding the pit roared in approval, slamming their weapons against the fences in respect.

Val'katl let the noise wash over the moment before he finally spoke.

"You fight like no warrior I have ever seen."

Tlandar met his gaze. He had proven himself.

Val'katl raised a hand.

"From this day forward," he declared, his voice echoing through Boulderkeep, "you fight alongside me. Together, we will end Ixtiel."

The warriors roared.

Tlandar had not just won a contest.

He had earned his place among them.

And now, his true war would begin.