Dawn had destroyed Micheal almost as thoroughly as their previous spar, although he had at least kept the structural integrity of his skull this time around, which he had the presence of mind to appreciate.

“Not bad, Mike, I think I'm finally starting to get the hang of you,” Dawn said suddenly to the bewildered Micheal.

“Urk,” he replied.

Clearly his presence of mind had not yet extended to the realm of conversation. A disappointing fact.

“Glad to see you agree,” Dawn chuckled.

Micheal had been beyond exhausted after arriving at Dawn's room to ask if they could move their training day forward a little bit. By the time they had arrived at the market square training ground he had nearly been dead on his feet, but he still expected better. He had been utterly decimated by that raven-haired monster of a giantess.

He had always thought himself to be well aware of the complete power of rank in a fight. He was lost. There had not been a day in his life that he had not been viscerally reminded of just how powerless he was against someone of a higher rank.

Even after tempering his own martial style. A style he had perfected through years of arduous fighting against every kind of person he could manage, he had not been the match of even the weakest of the bone ranks in the orphanage. It was simply a gap too wide to be bridged by skill alone.

Still, Micheal considered himself to be an incredibly skilled fighter. Trapped within the limitations of not only a small frame and being lost, but also a generally inferior physique, he had learned to overcome these obstacles using skill and brutality alone.

Confronted with Dawn however, Micheal realized he had much to learn in regards to the gap between himself and those that stood at the peak of bone rank in not only power, but skill as well. One could be compensated for with the other, but not both. She had moved with speed and grace that he could not imagine coming from any human at all, and she had used it all with the strength to match the boulders themselves. She had never taken him seriously as an opponent in their entire three hour sparring session. He had been weak and helpless in the beginning as well as the end. He hadn't even served as a warm-up for Dawn.

Still, he was sure he would have been the match for any new-sworn in the bone rank, even those at the peak, if he were to utilise his skill in favor of power. What Dawn had showed him was that, skill alone could only be honed so far. Power was needed to bridge the gap, and skill was used to win the day.

It had been an important lesson that he would do well not to forget.

“Guck gu,” He spat to the girl standing above him. She had been an excellent partner, but that didn't mean that Micheal was suddenly going to thank her for beating him to a pulp twice and blackmailing him. He had not forgotten nor forgiven her threatening of Samantha.

She smiled wide at him. It was a genuine smile, though he wondered how that was possible given the sentiment he had tried to convey. He considered whether it was simply her sadism or if there was some sort of deeper meaning behind the action. He concluded that it was a question best left unanswered, if only for the sake of his sanity. Micheal prided himself on his paranoia, but there was still such a thing as too much of a good thing.

“Well, now that you seem to understand where we stand in terms of strength and I understand exactly where you're at, I think it's time we actually try and work together, don't you?” She said with a deliberate vagueness.

Micheal was stunned with the face value statement, but wasn't about to turn down the chance to finally see what their teamwork might look like.

All of these beatings were for the purpose of the tournament, and while he had been co-opted by Dawn in order to participate, that didn't mean he wasn't trying to fight properly. Despite this, Micheal still had no clue what her apostle was, or even the God she had been sworn to, meaning he had no idea how they were supposed to fight together in the tournament.

Whenever Micheal had brought himself to ask the annoyingly vague girl, she had always answered only with a slight grin that brought Micheal's blood to a boil. She would spout of some nonsense about 'needing to walk before you can run', before going back to wailing on him like a practice dummy.

It was infuriating.

By this point he and Samantha had practiced together for a month, and had honed their teamwork to a razors edge. Admittedly they had still yet to face any chosen-on-chosen teams, but they were well on their way. If the meeting with Char went well, it was possible they would be doing exactly that in only three days time.

“And how, exactly, do you suppose we go about that?” Micheal asked, barely keeping the worst of his sarcasm at bay.

“Well, I could simply tell you, but where would be the fun in that?” She replied smugly. Micheal again wondered if he would be able to take her in a surprise attack, coming to the same conclusion that he had every other time.

It was possible. If he was willing to die. Maybe. probably not.

Extending a hand to Micheal, Dawn smiled a wyvern's grin as she lead him away.

....

Dawn stood opposite the gamesman in an open stance, one that Micheal recognized as part of her unique style of combat. She had used the same stance on him in almost all of their sparring matches to date, and he knew enough of it by sight to tell the opening she was creating on purpose.

Her foot too far forward, her body too high from her center of mass. She was practically begging to be taken out in a spear tackle or by some infighting technique or other. She looked weak.

Dawn's fighting style was much like the girl herself. She presented herself full of openings, exploitable and easy to target. When the gamesman closed in, she erupted from the stance like a tabby wyvern pouncing on a helpless nert.

It was a classic scam run on streets like Dasgad in order to lure out vulnerable and ignorant lost workers. A man would dye his pupils black, either painfully without the use of an apostle, or with the use of one of the many illusory Gods. Then, making pedestrians believe he was lost, he would challenge them to a duel for 'honor' or some such. If that technique failed, they would typically resort to insulting one's mother or friends, or possibly just straight attacking random passerby's.

When they were finally engaged in an arguably official duel they would finally reveal the true extent of their power, killing the mark and rightfully claiming whatever possessions they might have had on them at the time of their death.

At least, that was what was supposed to be happening.

Dawn sent a strike directly at the gamesman, aiming for his throat. He dodged like a snake, moving in a smooth and fluid motion into the outside of Dawn's range. He was skilled, as might be expected of the kind of person that makes a living off of targeting the weak, and Dawn looked exceptionally weak.

She was wearing her orphanages clothing, the same gray and featureless robes as Micheal. Of course, with her much more robust and tall figure she cut a far more intimidating sight than the five span ex-lost boy that was watching from the sidelines of the fight.

This didn't seem to worry the gamesman overly much, of course. He hadn't even seen her use her apostle yet, so he ruled out the possibility of it being useful in a fight like this.

Figuring he had found yet another easy mark in a sea of dozens, he charged in with an attack from his own apostle, a blue blade formed of ice. Once again Dawn smoothly dodged away in a show of fluidity and spectacle, which Micheal quietly assumed was for his own benefit. It seemed Dawn was something of a show off when given the chance.

Both of them moved with the speed and power of the bone rank, with each step causing a thudding impact of the earth, as if great titans were fighting it out in the bodies of mere mortals. The impacts of each missed shot sent shockwaves of power into the street, and the particulars of the fight were lost to an inconceivable blur of action.

He would catch snippets of the pinched and narrow face of the gamesman, with the occasional image of Dawn's raven locks thrown in. She seemed to remain outside of the man's reach, turning his own strategy against him. She seemed to excel at constantly keeping the man guessing as to her own position, placing herself deceptively close to his striking range while still remaining safe.

In a single explosive strike she leapt off her backfoot and drove a strike into the mans gut. Like a flash of lightning she struck him, sending a wave of force through the crowd. The stone underneath her feet shattered from the great force of her propulsion, sending flakes of stone debris out into the street.

The gamesman, for his part, had tried to move his ice-sword in the way of his body, but had failed due to his poor positioning.

Dawn's fist shot through his back, coated in the red gore of the man she had killed.

She extricated her fist without a moments remorse for the man.

...

“That was quite a show you put on,” Micheal mused to the girl as she cleaned her red stained hand in the well. She had nearly dirtied the entire bucket of water with the crimson nightmare that was her fist by that point, and Micheal was only slightly unsure as to whether there was more blood on her or in the bucket. Perhaps they each were as bloody as the other. A gorey sort of entropy. Poetic.

“It was worth it if you managed to find the lesson in it,” She said without her usual fanfare. It was perhaps the first time Micheal had ever heard her answer a question without some mixture of glee, sadism, or outright hostility toward him.

She was right, at least. He'd seen what she had aimed to show him. It was the very same lesson he had learned first hand.

She had been equally as powerful as the man, and had won with nothing but her strength of arm and skill, whereas Micheal, even if he were to utilise all of his skill in the attempt, would never have been able to replicate the feat. It was as she had said. Power was key, skill simply won the day.

“It still didn't help much with our teamwork,” he stated defiantly. She may have taught him a valuable lesson, but it was still against what she had said at the beginning. They needed to learn how to fight together if they had any chance of winning the tournament they were about to find themselves in.

They would be going against chosen within one rank of them in the duo tournament, which meant they would be in the bone/earth rank bracket (with some insane kids from the lost rank like Samantha). It also meant that, if they didn't learn to fight together within the next two months, they would be in severe trouble when it came to the tournament.

He and Samantha had a plan, team tactics, and affinity. He and Dawn had exactly none of those things. They were on the road to ruin at an unprecedented speed.

“Of course it did. Why did you think I had you watch me fight? For the fun of it?” She asked him.

She did that often. Phrasing statements as questions and questions as statements. It annoyed Micheal to no end.

“I'm not an idiot, Dawn. Even I can see the merit in watching my teammate fight others to better learn their style. The point I'm trying to make is that, if you don't show me your apostle, and if you continue to refuse to let s fight together, we are going to both die in this tournament, and that is something that I will not let stand,” Micheal stared into Dawn's eyes.

He looked on with the ferocity he so often heard resided in his eyes. Like a caged animal. The sort of reckless abandon that could only be home in the lost. The carnal rage that had found its origins within the harsh and warring environment of the orphanages filled with lost that he had found himself in all his life.

He knew he was weak. He knew he would not beat her if things came to blows. Still, he looked down at the girl that stood nearly a full span taller than him. It was exactly those reasons - his weakness. His inferiority, that gave him such boundless ferocity. When beaten for power, he would make up for it in animal rage. Lost were often said to be no better than animals. The least he would do was to take up the banner of an animal once last time to prove a point.

He would not die for this girl's idle whims. She wanted to fight in the hedgeside tournament, and that was well enough, but he would not let her drag him into a death match for nothing but an incidental feeling that he had been viciously swept up in. He wouldn't leave Samantha like that.

Dawn seemed to have taken note of his ferocity in a way unique to that encounter. She seemed to have taken him seriously for the first time in their working relationship, and he could see the mechanical wheels of her thought turning as she re-evaluated the situation.

She was smart alright. Too damn smart.

“Is that what you believe, then? That I'm taking us to out deaths?” She scoffed as if amused. It was a harsh thing.

“I do,” he interjected. Micheal was fully ready to face an attack of some kind as he noticed the glare she shot at him. Full of hate and spite he thought he may have imploded if he hadn't known better than to fear the fruitless gaze of a threat. He had seen gazes like that a million times and would see them again a million more. Empty of any true emotion beyond childish rage. Not the kind of emotion that most can kill on. It was those that were still capable of such an act that were the most frightening. They were the kind of people that one didn't want to associate with.

“Fine.”

A simple increasing of power was the only thing Micheal felt at that. A single word brought a weight to the backstreet that they had ended up in.

Dawn had finally brought her apostle to bear, and it was not going to look pretty if he let things proceed as she intended.

A blinding light filled the darkened alley immediately, like the coming of the morning sun the darkness became light before his eyes as he stared at the pure white that emerged from where Dawn had been standing.

She had become a center of radiance, the symbol of power and growth to all. It was as if a mini sun descended to earth to burn away the corruption of the world in a cleansing fire. Micheal physically struggled to look at Dawn, at least where he assumed Dawn to be.

Her's was the apostle of the Lesser God of heat, and she had brought the morning light to the field of battle. He finally understood why she hidden the ability from him. All of the questioning and lies were finally made clear at that moment. She had been preparing him not just to know her style of fighting, but how to fight against her as well. She had never intended to fight one aside the other. She was looking to divide and conquer.

That was Micheal's kind of fight.

A grin to match any that Dawn might have shown appeared on Micheal's face at that thought, and he finally appreciated what Dawn had done for the two of them as a team. She had never needed a teammate that was her equal. She needed someone that could take care of the second of their two opponents while staying out of her way so that she could distract them and fight the other at the same time.

She was perfect.