Friendly Spar
Frein didn’t need to be reminded to take this sparring session seriously. According to reports provided to him by the Princess, Xiv had scaled the walls of the Vanguard, survived Frill’s Diferenfra, and subdued hundreds of Iristan knights without killing them all on his own. While the Visitor himself had his own feats to boast about, it wasn’t lost on him that his current opponent, who was wearing a suit of Armor specialized for fighting humanoids instead of Nightmares, wasn’t someone to take for granted.
Why else would Vyndival Kingdom segregate fighters from hunters?
Not to mention Xiv was that kind of a man. The kind who wouldn’t even think twice to let someone else get their way for their own ego trip. He didn’t mind stepping aside and working from the shadows, thinking that a good deed left unheard and uncelebrated was his life’s calling. Frein knew this type of people. The type that responded best to sincerity. For if he took them seriously enough, they would return the favor a hundred percent of the time.
Frein took his stance. An orthodox posture, keeping both arms on guard in front of him, while setting his center low in perfect balance. There was a time when he would get his trusty gloves, but Siffera had spoiled him. Now they simply collected…meiyal dust?…inside his Spatiera, he wasn’t sure.
Rooting himself on the floor would cost him precious seconds should there be a need for explosive movement, but his defense would be sturdier in return. He meant to challenge Xiv head on, not play cat and mouse. Not to mention it was the best stance in terms of stability and weight shifting, allowing him to react quicker. At least initially, as far as a standoff was concerned. It was perfect for preparing against unknown attack patterns that he was sure would come out, given the things he had already seen from this world.
In addition, he reverted his Siffera in a calm flow. Steady but loaded with a hefty supply of meiyal and ready for sudden bursts of emphasis. These preparations, with the continued display of Gathering and Milling, should be enough to convince his opponent that he meant business.
Xiv, thankfully enough, was indeed that kind of man. Without words, he recognized Frein’s desire for a serious, albeit friendly exchange. The Visitor didn’t care if he won or lost, he didn’t care if the scales were tipped far against or too much into his favor, so long as he learned something.
The two didn’t require a preamble to begin.
Xiv took two steps and covered the distance between them within a second. He threw a proper straight, precise and quick enough to impress even Frein.
The Visitor slipped his head to the side at the last moment and allowed the arm to slide across while he delivered his own counter. He connected on a jaw, but Xiv was experienced enough to twist his neck to disperse the impact. Frein felt nothing but light grazing as he ducked, avoiding the Vyndivalian’s extended arm from swiping at the back of his head.
It was a bait. By swinging back his arm and skipping backwards, Xiv had produced enough leverage and space to send his leg, aimed straight to his opponent’s midsection.
Frein responded with a low cross block, sparing a thought to wonder if Xiv’s combat style of choice was an unsurprisingly clean and orthodox closed-quarters style that followed traditional momentum and physics. Free from the influences of meiyal. He immediately regretted making such a casual thought.
The moment Xiv’s greaves caught his arms, Frein’s Siffera around them shattered. It took all his Siffera-empowered concentration and reaction to re-Draw the Art, barely preventing any of his bones from breaking right then and there. The result was a miniature collision of meiyal, exploding and throwing him a few meters up in the air. He recovered just before he landed on the floor. His arms felt numb, but thankfully intact and unharmed.
“What in Brymeia’s name?” Elizzel commented. “Wait! I know it, they have the same properties of a Nightmare’s Negating Roar, but exclusively produced in Vyndival. It’s called—”
“Vynore,” Frein finished for the faunel, directing his words to Xiv at the same time. “I thought those things were incredibly rare.”
“Yes,” Xiv replied, lowering his leg. “The walls south and east of Vyndival Kingdom were made from Vynore. It negates all meiyal properties, including Nightmares. But even a wall made entirely out of it was still no match from such evil and hate.
“Officially, I don’t have any. Only King Urzic is known to have one left. But this heirloom has one hidden as an Embellishment. I thought, since you’re taking this so seriously, I’d show you my hand.”
“You know they’re monitoring this place, right?” Frein asked.
Xiv shrugged. “Take it as a gesture of good faith. I don’t have anything to hide anymore anyway.”
He scoffed at that. “Admit it; you just miss your Armor.”
The Vyndivalian smiled and prepared his stance, meiyal swirling dangerously around him. “Yeah, but I knew you could handle it. Even if it’s just the outskirts, how else would you have survived the Nightmare Lands? And I figured, you don’t want me holding back, right?”
Frein responded by emphasizing his Siffera to its full capacity. Reality bent at the sheer power suddenly echoing out of him. He couldn’t hide the joy from his face, mildly contorted as space itself took its time to accept this disruption.
One step. “Bring it!”
And suddenly, Frein was beside Xiv, his left fist merely inches from the Vyndivalian’s face. He pivoted and struck, slamming his knuckles on a face that just realized what had happened. Sparks rippled in the air as it acknowledged the Visitor’s passing, friction remembering they existed.
Xiv spun as he flew across the room. With a quick step, he broke momentum and twirled in the air, recovering just in time before he smashed onto the wall. He skidded through the rest of the force, clutching his jaw with one hand and while stopping his entire fall with the other.
Sam, watching silently from Frein’s M.O.B.I.L.E. sent a chime, updating the score one to zero in favor of the Visitor.
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The Vyndivalian looked twice at the scoreboard and looked at his hand on the floor. He wasn’t particularly harmed but rather frustrated that he instinctively used a hand to arrest his momentum.
That impressed Frein. He was sure that punch had caused some serious damage. He felt the impact and the follow through colliding against flesh and bone. Without a doubt, it was another feature of the Armor.
Mesiffera confirmed the significant loss in the Vyndivalian’s meiyal reserves.
That ticked a little switch in his head. Frein dashed and appeared midair in front of Xiv, who barely dodged a knee. He crashed on the wall, digging deep enough that cracks traveled all around while the Vyndivalian scampered on his feet.
“I’m trying to get advice for a date here, Frein,” he reasoned out. “Not to get killed!” Still, he found it in himself to retaliate. He threw a few punches and kicks, but they were nowhere near as sharp or precise as the first ones he sent out.
Or maybe it was Frein who could sense them easier this time, now that he was more cautious of their effects? He slipped from side to side, but never took a step backwards, not allowing Xiv any breathing room even when it was the Vyndivalian sending out a flurry.
Instead, Frein weaved at the last second and redirected punches and kicks when he could not afford to dodge. Mesiffera was an invaluable help, allowing him to see the Vynore Embellishment’s activations and durations. The trick was to move the Art out of the impact to avoid its erasure, while enhancing himself internally. Utilizing this technique would hurt a lot, which was why he made sure never to block or parry, but only to use slight and calculated flicks and pushes to turn the attacks away from him.
Xiv was caught confused but only for a few seconds before he switched tactics.
Frein could see the thoughts formulating in the Vyndivalian’s head and didn’t want to give him an easy time. He sent his own flurry of attacks. At this, he needed to be extra careful. From the small exchange they’d had so far, he concluded that the Vynore Embellishment could only be activated for a second or two. Either Xiv couldn’t maintain it for long, or he had something up his sleeve. So he sent his attacks when he was absolutely sure that the Embellishment wasn’t active.
Xiv quickly realized he couldn’t use the Vynore for defense and doubled his efforts, until he finally came up with a plan.
And this time, Frein read correctly. The Vyndivalian made his bread and butter combination; two jabs and a straight, but mixed up the final sequence by pulling the punch halfway and sending a kick instead.
Not once in Frein’s entire time here in Brymeia had he ever seen somebody employ a feint. None of the adventures nor the knights he had fought before. Their deceptions utilized Meiyal Arts and were nothing as primal and clean as a simple feint. No, not even Katherine.
It must’ve been the lack of practice, or the fact that he was too mesmerized by the realization that Frein was too stunned to dodge on time. Xiv’s shin connected with his head and shattered his Siffera, slamming him straight down on the floor. His instincts were just fast enough to re-Draw the art to avoid anything damaging. Even Elizzel was taken off-guard, unintentionally yelping through the Tether.
Sam updated the score: one to one.
Xiv wasn’t done and raised his leg to stomp on him. But Frein was quick to take advantage, grabbing and pulling the one leg that kept the Vyndivalian’s balance. He failed to recover and promptly joined the Visitor on the floor.
“You don’t get a score by bullying someone who’s already on the floor,” he reminded Xiv.
Sam made another update.
“Right.” Xiv breathed heavily. Armament fatigue was catching up on him.
It wasn’t lost on Frein that Xiv was doing his best. He also knew that the Vyndivalian hadn’t fully recovered yet. And while he was impressed by the things he saw, ultimately, he felt like a bully.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Frein concluded. “Let’s call it a draw.”
He had learned enough.
“You sure?” Xiv asked. “Afraid to lose, huh?” The taunt wasn’t as convincing when his Armor Doffed by itself, returning to a pendant. “Damn, last time it felt this heavy was probably back when I first Donned it.”
He lay flat on the floor, taking in as much air as he could.
“Fight didn’t even last ten minutes and you’re out of breath,” Frein pointed out as he stood laughing. “I’m so scared.”
That took a chuckle out of Xiv.
“You know, I’ve never seen an Iristan—no, a Meiyal Arts practitioner fight in hand-to-hand combat. Most of them hurl Art after Art until they run out of meiyal.”
“You haven’t fought people like Maffelyne? Even Kristel and Katherine fight at close range.” Frein reached out towards his M.O.B.I.L.E. and the device quickly zoomed towards his hand.
“I guess you’re right,” Xiv said while grunting his way to a sitting position. “Maybe not Lady Katherine, but whenever I overpower a Meiyal Arts practitioner, they usually step back and resort to ranged Meiyal Arts.”
The Vyndivalian’s eyes studied Frein. “In this fight and the one before, you’ve never taken a step backwards. Every time you were distanced from your opponent, it was them pushing you away. From what I’ve seen, it’s not a choice you make at all.”
“You think it’s stupid?”
Xiv barely stopped his nodding head. “Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t blame you. It is pretty stupid.” Frein reached out a hand and helped Xiv on his feet. “It’s a subtlety I’ve ingrained in my fighting style and performance.”
“Performance?”
“Back where I came from, I fought as an entertainer, pleasing crowds with the way I dissected my enemies without flinching back. They called me a gladiator, a warrior of the ring. And showing people unyielding strength was my forte.” Frein shrugged. “Well, I don’t fight to the death like the actual gladiators in our history, but I do the entertainment part good enough to get a living out of it.”
“Do count me entertained and impressed.” Xiv presented a fist, which caught Frein confused. “You don’t bump fists as a sign of acknowledgement?”
“We do, but not Iristans. I had to teach Kristel about it. You call that a bro-fist?”
“We call it a fist-bump.”
“Oh.” Frein shrugged again and pressed his knuckles with Xiv’s. “Same thing.”
“Speaking of ‘bro’, another thing we do back in my kingdom is to call people we treat as equals as Brother or Sister.” Xiv pushed his fist and Frein responded in kind. “You mind if I call you Brother Frein?”
Frein smirked at the notion and decided to do a bit of teasing. “I won’t be your equal for long Brother Xiv. You better keep up.”
Xiv took it like a true sportsman, laughing as they finally parted fists. “Let me learn how to run with this core and then we can start to race.”
“Not a chance. I’m burning everything I can as fast as I can.”
“You do shine like a bright star when you fight, Brother.”
The comment reminded Frein of a certain trivia. “Do you name your stars around here?” he asked while approaching the facility’s panel to order lunch. He swiped through the menu until he found something that looked delicious and filling before he gestured to his newfound brother.
“No, I don’t think so,” Xiv replied as he navigated through the panel a bit longer. “Why?”
“We named a bunch of stars back where I came from, and the fourth brightest star discovered was named Arcturus. At least the fourth brightest before I left.”
“How did they know it’s the fourth brightest?” Xiv asked, not even blown away by the fact that he was named after a star.
Frein supposed, in hindsight, it wasn’t as amazing given that people here in Brymeia didn’t have as much interest with celestial bodies.
“Out of all they’ve accounted for, mind you,” he pointed out and shrugged. “Math, I guess.”
“Hate math,” Xiv commented, finally deciding on a meal. “Well, in any case, are you going to help me come up with a plan now?”
“About your date?”
The Vyndivalian made a face. “Obviously.”
“No plan is the best plan, my friend.” Frein quickly followed up before Xiv could complain. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you some pointers and we’ll make sure you’re dressed up nicely. Making plans will just make you nervous. They make you hyper-focused. Even if you prepare for any eventuality you can think of, the moment they fail, all the confidence you have will come crumbling down. That’s not good, if you want to make an impression. If you want a goal; you want to ensure that there will be a next time, a next date.
“Besides, I have training lessons with Katherine this afternoon. Frill and Kristel will be joining, so you’re invited to hang around, if you want.”
“But you said we’ll be preparing for the date this afternoon!”
“See what I mean about plans failing?” Frein smiled just as Xiv gave up on the argument.
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