Dungeons and Dalliances (Futa LitRPG)

5.04 - Mediator I

Jordan watched as Natalie's two-handed warhammer crashed into a tower shield easily as tall as herself. The oversized block of stone met reinforced metal shield with a clang reminiscent of a blacksmith's anvil. Despite having braced for the blow, the heavily armored tank—a boy with dirty blond hair, whose name Jordan didn't know—staggered back, his guard broken.

Though the vicious impact had rattled Natalie too, her follow-up was swift: a second, then third, then fourth wind-up blow hammered into the tower shield, entirely forgoing subtlety and technique. She chose instead to bash her way through with pure determination. It was very Natalie.

Her sparring partner was, unfortunately, no match for her: the fight was a foregone conclusion. That was how it went sometimes. The difference in strength between the low and high ends of talent, even within the same year, could be insurmountable. And the gap would only grow more pronounced as time passed, as they moved into their sophomore, junior, and senior years. If Jordan had to guess, this boy hadn't even reached level two yet. So against Natalie? It simply wasn't a fair fight.

"She really is a monster with that thing," she said idly, wincing as another ridiculous clang cut through the air. It pierced even the din of the dozens of other active fights throughout the training yard. "If ... a bit noisy."

"A bit?" Sofia asked dryly. She watched the display, arms crossed as piercing blue eyes scrutinized the two fighters. There was a distasteful curl to her lips, and Jordan guessed why even before Sofia voiced the sentiment. "She's being a brute. It's disrespectful. To herself and her opponent. She can do better."

The events earlier that morning, in the bedroom, had gone forgotten. Or, ignored. Sofia was her usual self, if somewhat fidgety, especially when their eyes met. Jordan admitted she had gotten carried away. To be fair, she'd been more than a little compromised, with Natalie taking her from behind and a blushing Sofia squirming underneath her. In that kind of scenario, of course her better senses had vanished.

Still, considering what she had said—and the kiss they'd shared—she knew they needed to talk about it. She'd been meaning to chat with Sofia for a while now. About a whole bunch of things. Though, Natalie at the forefront.

"Well, it's working," Jordan said. "That's all that matters, in the end."

Sofia grunted her disagreement. "Every fight should be taken seriously. Even easy ones. She's not giving it her best."

Jordan half agreed with the perspective. But she didn't think Natalie wasn't taking the fight seriously, exactly. More like, she was seeing just how much she could accomplish with pure brute strength. Testing her limits.

Though, admittedly, having an inappropriate amount of fun while doing so. She was wearing that wild grin of hers as she spun around with her towering warhammer. Jordan had always found that look equal parts endearing and worrying. Natalie could get carried away way too easily. Jordan had seen it more than once in their youth. She might be the only reason Natalie hadn't gotten herself killed in their reckless early years.

"She's definitely getting better, though," Sofia said. "Her footwork is cleaner. Giving less openings. Better integration of her illusions, too." She wrinkled her nose. "In her earlier fights, at least. This one is a regression."

Sofia had always been more willing to acknowledge Natalie's skill than the other way around. There was a definite begrudgingness to the compliment, though. Sofia handled her competitive streak with much more maturity, but it was definitely still there.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jordan watched Sofia more than she did the fight. The woman's attention bored into Natalie with an intensity that was rather telling—and would probably embarrass Sofia if she realized what she was doing.