I jumped back, back to the distance from before.
"I went along with you, it's a knight's role to take care of a blooming flower—no matter what your end will be." His voice trembled.
"Did you really think I'd be that easy to deal with? In that case you're unfortunate." He lifted his sword again, his eyes narrowed together as the previous expression disappeared.
Before I could react his blade descended on me, and I brought my blade in between us.
But my sword stayed silent as my legs trembled—caving in after the impact traveled through my gut, affecting even my legs.
I found myself at a distance from him.
It had happened once again,
Arih's kick felt worse...
"You're strong kid, but you lack something—you know it already, don't you?"
I kept silent as I raised my blade, covering his entire body.
"Obviously—experience against the strong, but also this tepid style you're using, what do you even wish to achieve with it?" Both his voice and face stayed unchanging, not a single emotion flowed through the words he said.
My blade trembled, unable to bring anything against him even as he spoke about my dad's techniques.
"It's already strange enough that you know an actual style as a commoner—tell me where did you learn it?" His eyebrow raised slightly, with a slight tonal jump before it steadied out.
"My dad—he taught me." The handle of my sword started burning into my palms.
"Who was your dad?" The same tone came back, steadied out.
"I don't know..." Ever since I saw the wider world I knew that there was something special about my dad.
A sword like his, and a style like his—neither were something anyone can have.
"Let's continue—show me all you have before I end it." He matched my gaze for the first time—his eyes reflected off the blade aimed at me.
I breathed, and took a stance—my stance.
I would win with my style, or lose with mine.
As if he knew when I was ready he lunged at me.
The assault rained down on my blade, deflecting each of his strikes, while my arms had to take all the brunt of it.
The defense had not been a problem.
The only problem was whether I could keep up long enough.
I need to go beyond the current me.
While there was no warmth piled in my chest, my senses were still in my reach.
But what can I even see with them? I had to understand it right here and now.
'Do you need my help?'
'Thank you, but I need to do this by myself.'
His strikes kept raining down on me, there was a certain rhythm to it, making it possible to know what was going to come—but he went too quick for my senses, responding to his strikes was its own challenge.
While our physical speed was equal, the speed of our blade went beyond that—it was impossible to match his.
I had to read his strikes before they came at me.
I had to see beyond what was in front of me—before my time would reach its end, with his never ending strikes that carried the same weight as the ones before.
I tried to see something deeper.
Where does it come from?
His sword path was getting clearer,
This isn't enough—far from. He is still too fast.
I had to know how his strike would move.
It was as if I could sense where the air was going to be cut.
A ring sounded, one purer than the ones before—it wasn't me who had to take the brunt force of his strike as I met his blade with mine before it was too late.
In that same instant his sword descended again.
The screeching of metal sounded, like a fork scraping a plate as my blade's tip reached his chest, reaching him between the two strikes.
"Congratulations you went past your limits—I'm proud of you." A smile shone on his face, but his eyes showed the opposite.
I was still outside his reach, I stared at his essence, unable to lower my guard, as though something forbade it.
"I'm sorry, I need to do this." His eyes closed as his smile disappeared, it was the first time his blade trembled.
The sight made his words disappear, the sight of a cup filling as his essence activated—blasting through his body.
It had the same size as mine before I learned to control it.
But these weren't wild—they were clear. It knew where it should go, and what it had to do.
Something that mine still lacked.
"Pay attention—these were the walls you wanted to climb over." His eyes were visible, staring right at me instead of evading me.
Wanted? Why is he speaking in past te—
No thoughts could be formed.
A light shone from his sword—bright enough to darken all its surroundings.
It seemed to be burning, a flame fluttered around, reaching the top of his blade.
Is this in my he—No.
Even the heat was real—setting the loose fibers of my clothes alight.
The armor I wore was heating up—heats warm enough to burn me.
Drops of sweat fell down my eyes, blurring my sight,
What is happening?
"This is the level you need to reach that of knights—the ability to reflect your essence."
I was unable to respond any longer.
I could feel his essence reflected on his blade.
I could feel him reflected on his blade.
But I couldn't categorize it—as if understanding it wasn't allowed.
An existence above mine.
Even the noise I had to mute myself had disappeared.
His eyes lowered themselves,
"I'm sorry." They came back clear, staring right through their target.
As soon as those words left his mouth, he appeared right in front of me, leaving no trace of himself behind except for the charred, and broken stones where he once stood—lighting even the dust in the air up.
The heat felt stronger than before.
My body was screamed for help.
My sweat was the only thing that cooled my body as even the air was burning.
Then his swing began—aimed right for my neck.
He wanted to do it cleanly—he wished not to hurt me.
But it was too late—the heat had already burned through my clothes, making my breastplate touch my body, burning into me.
The only thing left for me was to block his sword, even when I knew where it would hit—not even wishing to hide it—it was all in vain.
My blade pointed down my left side, covering my neck with its strongest part.
His blade came closer, and closer.
The light started to blind me, closing them before the heat could dry them.
A sickening, softened shattered sounded as a weight separated itself from me.
It was the sword I was wielding, melting while it shattered.
The heat had become unbearable.
Every layer of my skin was screaming.
Sweat didn't even come out, evaporating within.
I was getting burned alive.
This is my end.
As the hiss of evaporating sweat filled the air,
"Isn't this enough?"