Jerome watched the armor-clad Sprouts as they stood defensively before the Dark Forest that loomed mightily ahead as if they could stop them from entering the forest. He was reminded again about how culturally different the Feis were from the rest of Vorthe.

Their armors weren’t as pristine as they once looked before the battle at the blockade, but the differences between theirs and the armors of the other Sprouts that came to Terra Praeta were very glaring.

Lang put on a large dragon head shaped helmet that covered his whole face and flared at the bottom, giving him a menacing look. The only part of his face Jerome could see was his eyes. It was a good look on him and would have discouraged any other Sprout from fighting with him.

Not Jerome though.

The older Sprout was half a head shorter than him but had more girth and looked more imposing. On every metric, it seemed Jerome was at a disadvantage — he was less experienced and younger.

Every other Sprout backed away from them for their duel. Jerome waited as the Sprout slowly drew his blade. The ringing of metal against metal as he slowly unsheathed his blade told Jerome all he needed to know about the blade.

It was a powerful artifact. Just like the one he took from the Alvric girl. He had with him one of his old spears. But Jerome had already known there would be an altercation so he had prepared, imbuing all his normal spears with powerful scripted symbols of power. And with Achilles’ help, some technique of the force of light.

He materialized one of the mundane looking ones. On the surface it looked like every other average spear. But it was heavier and stronger than normal, and it could hold his essence and sword force.

Lang attacked.

Jerome watched as the Sprout crossed the distance between them. It should have taken a split second. Or perhaps it did. But it seemed like several seconds to him. The older Sprout was moving so slowly that he caught everything he was doing. He had to admit. Lang had good form.

He watched as sword force covered Lang’s blade as he crossed the distance. It was a pretty good tactic. He imbued his blade after moving, making sure that his opponent wouldn’t notice the move until it was too late, and wouldn’t react on time.

Jerome stepped out of the way and pushed the Sprout back with two fingers to the chest. Lang staggered backward, shock written on his face. Jerome smiled at him and shrugged. He readied his own spear, taking a defensive stance.

They both shot toward each other at once and the clang of steel against steel filled the air.

“You know, Xerae, I’ve seen your memories of that technique the Feis used in the night of Terra Praeta. It’s called the Formless Blade.”

That’s good to know, Achilles, Jerome thought. Finally nice to put a name to the technique. I want you to observe closely. I’m going to force him to use it.”

~~~

Lóngtóu wasn’t working against the younger Sprout. That was the only conclusion he could come to. If not, the boy should have hesitated to fight him when he put on the helmet.

Lang had wanted to end this fight as quickly as possible so he could conserve his strength but it seemed he would have to be a little bit ruthless. He gave Jerome a once over. His strange clothing wasn’t anything he had seen in Vorthe before. The younger Sprout was wearing a hooded black cloak with long sleeves and thick fur lining the end of the hood — clothing that was good for the cold but not for the edge of the blade.

Lang attacked and the younger Sprout pushed him back. He was taken aback in shock. No one in his Realm had ever been able to stop his advance. The boy had the gall to smile and even shrug. He felt his anger rise but pushed it down to stay clear-headed. They shot toward one another and started their fight heatedly.

Jerome’s blows were heavy. That spear in his hand looked like an ordinary spear. But how could it support itself without crumbling on contact with his katana? He quickly separated from the younger Sprout to observe better.

“That spear is an artifact, isn’t it?”

The boy smiled at him. “Does it matter? Yours is an artifact but you don’t see me complaining.”

Lang’s anger flared at the verbal slap. Jerome had just insinuated that he was complaining about his opponent using an artifact while he was also using one.

“Let us get this over with,” he said as he attacked again.

Jerome dodged his first few strikes and parried the rest. His spear gave him an advantage with its length and his thrusts were quick and powerful. Lang was able to keep up but it seemed the younger Sprout wasn’t even expending effort. He took his time waiting for the right moment to execute the Formless Blade.

Lang kept assaulting the younger Sprout wanting him to reveal his true strength. He swerved right as the spear was thrust at him and spun his blade, executing the Rainbow Lotus, a defensive technique that helps to repost an attack, and also distract an opponent with the illusion of myriads of blades.

The younger Sprout wasn’t phased. He parried like he had fought against the Rainbow Lotus before.

The snow was keeping him from moving too fast but with bits of essence transmitted to his skysail, he was able to keep himself afloat a little and increase his speed. He observed Jerome to see that he was unperturbed with the knee-deep snow, as if he had a skysail of his own. Lang wasn’t so sure the Royal family would procure a skysail from the Alvrics for a disciple who already had an artifact that could help him fly.

They both moved across the ground like angels of death. Reaching speeds that would cause the other Sprouts around to cringe back in fear. Lang went in hard, swinging his sword with a dexterity borne from years of training. Jerome was just as good, his spearwork was perfect and he used it in the best combination of forms possible.

There were no flaws to his movements. Lang secretly admired his footwork. The younger Sprout didn’t waste space. There were no unnecessary movements. Every little move was done expertly and with the intent to keep the fight in his favor.

Their attacks were literally producing sparks in the air now from the immense force of their blows. Sword force had caused an imbalance in the ambient essence and it was only getting more concentrated. It was almost time to execute his technique — the ultimate technique.

This was going to be a lesson to the younger generation of House Fei. The Formless Blade was a superior technique that shouldn’t be treated with levity. And he was going to show them how truly terrifying it was!

The sword force in the air spiked and Lang executed a series of beautiful attacks, his katana cutting through the air, vibrating with condensed sword force. It came in contact with Jerome’s spear multiple times and the shock from the impact shook his limbs. Lang fought faster and faster as he stirred the sword force in the air, making it more concentrated.

If he was going to take this Sprout down and do it indomitably, he needed as much sword force as he was physically capable of commanding. There was no denying that the younger Sprout was stronger than he had thought. Maybe as strong as he was.

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Lang almost shivered at the thought but held himself strong. With a few more parries, he sheathed his blade.

“You don’t stand a chance anymore, Jerome,” Lang said. He stood with his legs apart, muscles taut, holding the tsuka of his katana in his dominant hand and his saya in the other, ready for the quick draw.

The younger Sprout was a few paces away from him — not too far away but not too close. The perfect distance for the Formless Blade.

“Why are you talking?” Jerome said with a smirk. Lang observed his surroundings first as he looked around before taking a stance. He smirked behind his helmet as well. Very well.

He rotated his core and the air sang with the vibration of sword force for a split moment.

Lang drew his blade.

Blinding light overcame his sight as the intensity of sword force in the air climbed exponentially quickly. The sword force in the air converged on Jerome from all sides, Trapping him inside a circle of swirling death. There was no escaping this Formless Blade. It’ll rip him to shreds and nothing but blood and pulp would be left of young Sprout.

This is karma, Lang thought to himself with an air of absolute authority. He prided himself in his humility and ability for self-control. The little urchin should have learned to follow like the disciple that he was. He shouldn’t have bloated his ego with that loud and disrespectful mouth of his.

At the end of it all, the disciplined always stood firm. As they say, ‘Pride goes before the fall’.

The light died down quickly — too quickly in fact — and what Lang saw brought his jaw to the floor.

~~~

This was it. The Formless Blade. Bright silvery white light blinded him for a moment but Jerome kept his eyes focused by contracting the muscles in his irises. How he did that, he had no idea because he only saw in black and white for the briefest of seconds.

The concentration of sword force in the air increased to at least a thousand percent. It felt like Blade’s Edge Canyon once again. Sword force tickled his skin but did nothing more. It was sharp in the air, like a drawn blade ready to slice him to pieces. Jerome was a lot tougher than he was back then though.

He extended his psychic energy to encompass the entirety of the clearing, sucking in and compressing the sword force in the air. Jerome weaved a complicated pattern with it around him and his spear.

The sword force swirled around him but the patterns couldn’t be seen with the naked eyes of a Sprout. It could only be felt but even then, the Sprouts here didn’t have evolved psychic energy to sense what he was doing — maybe except Lang.

They even took a few steps away from him due to the intensity of the sword force. All they could sense was the concentrated energy vibrating the air around him and raising his hair in a wild display, making it seem like the wind was in his face.

The older Sprout was staring up at him in wonder and for the first time — fear.

“My turn,” Jerome said and spun his spear. He smelled the strong stench of fear ooze out of the older Sprout as it rose in him.

The air rang as the compressed sword force spiked in the air around him. Jerome hurled an arc of sword force at him.

~~~

“We yield!” Fei Lin screamed, standing in front of her protector to protect him.

But she was a tad bit too late. Jerome had already blasted sword force at Lang and she could feel the hairs on her body stand on end. Her eyes hurt her and she blinked to moisten them.

One moment, Jerome was standing a few paces away. But now he was in front of her. She raised her head in surprise to see his strange clothing flash with golden bands of light at the edges before the sword force hit him like hail.

He glared at her and she flinched, taking a step back. She was coming to understand that this Sprout did not give a rat’s ass about her status as the heir of a Great Clan. Nothing phased him. But she was still the heir of a Great Clan. She must not keel over to a mere disciple just because he was imposing.

Fei Lin drew herself to her full height.

“I said we yield,” she said with a bite to her tone and glared back. “You have your opportunity to enter the Forest of Shadows.”

Her heart was beating a mile away and her limbs trembled as she stood before Jerome. She felt like he could crush her with a finger as waves of pressure radiated off him. Then he smirked.

“But that wasn’t the agreement, was it?” Jerome spread his arms and the sword force in the air seemed to be sucked into him, leaving the atmosphere almost bare and lifeless. Not even the ambient essence was left untouched.

“Winner takes all, and loser gets to sit out the journey to the Waters of Irithiya.”

A sudden shock ran through Fei Lin who was looking at the air around her as if that could help her decipher how Jerome had sucked all that sword force into him. She turned to look at him with wide eyes not expecting to hear that name from him.

Several gasps went through her teammates, showing that they were listening in on their conversation.

“Is that where we’re going, Jerome?” Selene asked from a distance away.

Jerome looked back and nodded once. “And House Fei here thinks they still have the chance to enter the dark forest, even after losing the duel. Does the word of the protector of the heir mean nothing?” he asked, addressing Fei Lin directly.

She glared at him and clenched her jaw to stop herself from saying something she would regret. If anything, their word should mean something. She had already started to think of a way out when Lang quickly put his hand on her shoulder to grab her attention. He went down on one knee and glared up at Jerome.

“Our word is our bond,” Lang said, drawing a knife from his boot. “I only ask that you do not take this out on the whole team. Let them join you in the pools and you can have my life…or death. I swear by the darkness that plague—”

“Lang, no!” Fei Lin said and quickly covered his mouth to stop him from swearing an oath he would live to regret. She could see the pain in his eyes. The regret he felt for proposing a duel he had thought he could win but ultimately lost.

Lang was smart and he wanted to give them a fighting chance. If they returned home without ever stepping foot inside the Waters of Irithiya, they would have brought shame to their clan — better one person than all of them.

The crunching of snow around her told her that the other Sprouts were coming toward them. She wanted to regain her stand as a force to be reckoned with before any other person saw her like this, even though they could hear all that was going on.

“Princess, it has to be done. This is the consequence of my actions,” Lang said but looked away from her, guilt-ridden.

She turned to Jerome and held her head high. The nuisance of a Sprout had the audacity to look down at her as if she were a flea. She ground her teeth in anger but restrained herself from saying anything that would offend him. She was on the back foot here and the fate of her team rested in his hands.

“As you well know, I am the heir of a Great Clan.”

He said nothing.

“And my family is second only to the Royals. Don’t you think it best to let every one of us enter the forest? Don’t you think it’d be best to have a Great Clan owe you a life debt? We can raise your status in all of Vorthe, Jerome. And we have the Royals’ ears.”

Everyone else had gathered around them by now. The Itakars behind Jerome and the Feis behind her. Fei Lin felt a tremendous amount of pressure upon her at once. She needed to be a leader and she needed to be seen as strong and uncompromising while being merciful. She needed to be in control.

But the stupid Sprout had said nothing since she began talking. He should at least say something so she knew where she and her team stood with him. She was grasping for straws as it were and she hoped it wasn’t perceived by others around her. Or worse — perceived as a weakness on her part.

“No,” Jerome said, loud and clear so everybody heard him.

Fei Lin wanted to rip him apart and feed him to her sacred beasts in Farryn. If only they were in Farryn. What was he thinking in that stubborn head of his?

“Jerome, it is considered a bad practice to refuse the grace of the nobility,” Selene said beside him.

“I won’t be bought. And I won’t be cowed,” he said, still looking at her like he was looking at a pest. His voice carried a tone of finality in it. “I am my own person. I have no need for Lang’s life… or death. I only need you to stay out of my way. You can come with… Not because I fear your family name. Not because I want something from you. But because I CHOOSE to let you.”

Sighs of relief echoed around Fei Lin and she sighed too. But his message couldn’t be clearer. He was ‘permitting’ them entry because he had the power to do so. The gall of him!

“But now you owe me,” he said.

Fei Lin saw an opportunity to regain control of the conversation. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, saying, “And what would you want? If it’s within my power I will grant it.”

“It is not within your power,” came the Royal disciple’s retort. She felt like punching him in the face. But at least he had agreed to let them join them.

“You should gather up your things. We’d be heading in soon,” he said again and this time, she looked at him in unbelief.

“Are you mad?”