Alvan honed in on the unmoving Xander, the glowing wooden sword primed for a strike. With each step, his speed increased as if caution was thrown to the wind; he showed no signs of stopping at all, while the buzzing of his left glove rose in volume. His actions baffled everyone in the Arena –he wanted to fight Xander head on!
Xander sneered in mockery and readied his greatsword for a simple cleave. His movements were effortless like the sword in his hand had no weight at all. His Spirit grew brighter in conjunction with his preparation, completely unlike the dim light Alvan was giving off. When Alvan had finally neared, with the same sadistic grin, he struck out with his greatsword. The wind howled along as the sword cut through, affirming that it was of great weight and speed.
As expected, the win is mine! Xander thought. With his heightened senses, he could clearly see that Alvan had no way out. And with his meager abilities, could not dodge nor block his strike. At this moment, it was clear to all, especially to him, that Alvan truly had made a grave mistake; he would certainly suffer. Knowing all of this as if it was fact, Xander proudly spoke, “This is the end!”
Unexpectedly, Alvan was not flustered at all, nor did he try to stop his dash. In fact, he continued on as if he considered that the greatsword was no threat to him. His confidence was truly baffling to all as each step he made --even as the greatsword neared him-- was more forceful and unyielding than before. His gaze was focused and his expression was serious, as if the humiliation and the anger he felt was nonexistent.
Alvan’s Spirit, while terribly underwhelming compared to Xander’s, turned a bit brighter that only someone with amazing perception could see. His wooden sword was now only gripped by one hand and at some point, his left arm –the one with the leather glove—was sent out to meet the oncoming greatsword, while the buzzing suddenly increased once more as if it was priming for something. Most people in the Arena gasped at his idiotic response. After all, it was obvious that with his physique and his weak Spirit, it would be truly a miracle from the First King for him to block Xander’s attack!
...But like before, he continued forth, going against everyone’s expectations.
The leather glove whined and glowed more brightly than Alvan’s own Spirit. And as Xander’s strike met his left hand, he recited a simple word, “Push!” What came was a concentrated jet of air being blasted from the center of his left palm.
It smacked against the greatsword with power so great that it almost tore Xander’s grip away. He was forcefully blocked, and the greatsword slammed behind him onto the stage ground, burrowing a few inches deep. Facing the unexpected shift in weight, he arched back and his footing was in shambles while surprise and anger loomed over his face.
Although Alvan had blocked Xander’s strike and left him in an awkward state -- he, too, had suffered from the immense recoil brought upon by the left glove, but considering he was aware beforehand of the power his left glove poses, he managed to avert most of the recoil by letting his body go limp. What happened was that with his right foot as a pivot point, he spun once by using the recoil and after spinning once, with a one-handed grip, he slammed the wooden sword down onto Xander’s weakened grip. It was an ungraceful move that had no precedent but it had won him the exchange. The strike of his even drew blood as if the wooden sword had an edge.
Xander moaned under the pain but Alvan’s strike was not enough to remove his grip from the sword. He hefted –now, with some difficulty—the greatsword and dislodged it from the ground and unhesitatingly, struck out once more in anger at Alvan. I can’t be mocked like this. Not me!
Alvan had no proper footing as he was just recovering from his attack. Again, it seemed impossible for him to escape Xander’s attack. He cannot dodge nor block in time. The greatsword would reach him wherever he went, and blocking it was the action of a fool. His choices, like before, were now sealed. But this time, everyone stayed quiet, waiting if Alvan could make another miracle.
This time, Alvan aimed his left palm towards Xander with his body positioned directly behind. He jumped and recited the same simple word, “Push!” And another concentrated jet blasted out from the glove.
It bore down onto Xander but it did not sent the greatsword away. He did not want to take any chances and his Spirit was at its maximum. After all, this time he was prepared even if he knew nothing of what exactly transpired before. He was arrogant, but he was not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. And while his vision was lost from the concentrated air being buffeted against his face, he had already struck out. There is no hope for Alvan to escape this time! he thought. But, he felt nothing. His greatsword did an arc and slammed once more onto the stage’s ground. He was confused and anger boiled within him. What happened!? He opened his eyes and saw that Alvan was a few meters away. His anger was at its peak.
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Alvan, in order to escape, had jumped and used the recoil from the glove’s blast. He flew in a low arc across the stage and hurriedly recovered himself from the fall. He regained his stance, with the sword perpendicular to the ground. The bright glow from his glove was now at its dimmest point, even dimmer than his own Spirit. Dammit! he thought. I need to stall for time. I just need to recover one charge. Concentrate, Alvan! Gather as much mana as you can! And the glove buzzed in response. I made him angry. This won’t be easy. I risked it all but I still wasn’t able to break his grip. Now, I’ve lost the advantage in surprise. He would be more guarded than before... I need to use the other spell. Until then, I just need to wait.
Alvan was sweating profusely. Although he was calm and under control, he still feared from being hit with the power Xander had but since the start of the fight, his determination had grown. He was afraid –like anyone else would be in face of of being severely hurt-- but it was not enough to damper his will for he knew now that his efforts had brought out what he wanted the most; he was now capable of fighting against the figure he never could fought with before. With this, he was satisfied on how far his efforts had went. He smiled. Of course, he was not content and would strive even further to attain greater strength but as of now, he first needed to win this match. He needed to win, in order to show that his belief that talent could be overcome was never wrong!
Xander, seeing the undamaged state of Alvan and the smug smile, was finally unable to restrain himself and howled, “Alvan! I’ll kill you!” And lifted the greatsword threateningly. His eyes, while not bloodshot, harbored real killing-intent. He felt wronged. All those years in the Academy, he never was humiliated to this degree. He always believed that a Chosen like him would easily overwhelm any opposition in his level but he was not even able to show a portion of his talent in combat –he was just being led around by a youth only a little more half his size. And worst of all, he was being beaten like a dog by the one he had ridiculed as the weakest in the Academy. His emotions were all over; he was truly furious.
Alvan, calmly and solemnly responded, “Come.” and took a step back.
Xander madly charged like a beast. His Spirit followed in his fury as it glimmered in its brightest. He was mad, yes, but it was not enough to deprive him of all his reason as he moved in a way that cornered Alvan with each step he made. His greatsword, now covered in his Spirit, looked imposing as looks of amazement passed through the Arena, even the Knights. He was really going all out against a youth he arrogantly proclaimed in his mind as only a minor stepping stone. He would rather end it with all he had.
Alvan facing Xander, took a step back as he neared. He was, after all, only trying to stall time, and every distance he could make would help greatly. His determination might be strong, but he was not a madman who would mistake it as actual strength in combat. He was the kind of person who would logically try to increase his chances of succeeding. Thus, he stepped back and glanced around him for a way to escape Xander’s inevitable deadlock.
From afar, their bout looked like a youth trying to escape from the clutches of a wild beast.
At this time, Alvan thought to himself, I must win! A few seconds more and I would have enough mana for the spell. Just as long that I don’t make any mistakes from hereon –it’s my win! By then, I’ll show to everyone who mocked and doubt me, that talent can be overcome. I can’t –I won’t let anyone, especially Xander, look down on my belief! I will not falter. My Will will not falter! His glove softly buzzed and his wooden sword shimmered with his thoughts.