Anissa moved as fluidly as water, she had no other choice, her blade demanded it of her.
The movements became less about what she wanted to do and more about pure instinct, instinct of the blade itself.
Krimin swung his saber relentlessly, attacking her without rest, the moment he stopped she would strike. A strike his saber could not take.
Orion found it difficult to get his attacks in when Krimin was swinging without regard for him.
One specific slash aimed at Anissa’s neck almost reached her, but she deflected it upwards at the last moment.
As Krimin’s hand extended further then he expected Anissa took this chance to kick him, knocking him away from the battle.
He had overcommitted to a fabricated opportunity.
Simultaneously a punch headed towards her abdomen touched empty air as she bended, almost in an inhuman way.
After missing his attack Orion tried to retreat but Anissa grabbed his wrist with her left hand and pulled him inwards.
She managed to get a slash in on his shoulder before he shook her off, sending her flying into the air.
She maneuvered mid air and landed on her feet, unharmed.
Krimin stood up, his liver still tender from the previous blow. Orion tore off a sleeve and wrapped it around his injured shoulder, using a makeshift bandage to prevent bleeding.
He looked at Anissa in disbelief.
None of them were weak, in fact they were all fighters sects would consider geniuses.
But Anissa had traded blows with the two of them at the same time and she didn’t even look fatigued, much less injured.
“What the hell are you?” he asked as Anissa stood still, waiting for them to recover.
“Anissa Evermore.” she replied simply.
Orion thought for a moment before remembering.
“Liam Evermore’s daughter?! You’re a century younger than me, Goddamn it.” he couldn’t even use age as an excuse for his sorry performance.
His feelings towards Anissa were a mix of awe and irritation. Her skills were far beyond what he would expect from someone at that age age.
“ENOUGH!” Krimin yelled as he glared at Anissa with rage.
“You’ve humiliated me enough, even waiting for me to recover from my vulnerable state! IS THIS BATTLE A JOKE TO YOU?!”
Deep memories buried in his head resurfaced unknowingly.
“NEVER DISRESPECT BATTLE!”
…
The scene showed a much younger Krimin standing before his father, the Clan Head, with his head bowed in shame. Three other middle-aged men sat to his father's side, waiting silently.
Krimin had made a grave error while scouting an enemy encampment, and now he faced the consequences of his actions. The tension in the tent was palpable as he waited for his father's decision.
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“Seventeen Qi condensation guards, eight captains at foundation establishment and one Ethereal Core Chief. Am I correct in this being what you said?” his father spoke in a serious tone.
Sweat trickled down his brow, and his trembling hands betrayed his fear. This wasn't just about facing a parent; he was standing in front of a symbol of warfare, a figure known for his prowess in battle, the great warrior Krigis. The weight of the moment weighed heavily on Krimin's young shoulders.
“Look up.” Krigis commanded
Krimin slowly looked up to meet his gaze.
He was met by the image of a man with fiery red hair that cascaded down his broad shoulders. His muscular frame exuded strength. A sight intimidating enough to silence most.
“speak.”
Krimin opened his mouth trying to think of what to say, no matter what he thought of he couldn't get it out of his mouth.
“SPEAK BOY!” The leftmost of the middle aged men beside Krigis interjected, one of the generals within his clan.
The comment was met by a shoe hard as a rock being chucked at the man's face.
“Do I need your help to discipline our clansmen?!” Krigis reprimanded the man.
The general quietly apologized while cleaning the blood from his nose.
Krimin finally managed to gather up the courage to speak.
“Yes, that was what I said.”
Krigis’s glare on him intensified.
“And how many were there actually?” He asked.
Krimin hesitated for a moment before replying.
“There were 12 foundation establishment cultivators.”
Krigis nodded slowly as he spoke.
Silence fell over the tent for a moment.
“Fa-” Krimin stopped mid sentence.
A blade grazed the side of his face, another general had chucked a dagger so quickly that he could not react.
“Mind your manners.” he spoke as the dagger flew back to him.
At this moment Krimin was not speaking to his father he was speaking to the clan head.
Krimin corrected himself before speaking again.
“Clan head, I made a mistake. I was careless, foolish even. I will accept any punishment.”
Despite his bold words Krimin was beyond scared, at this point he was merely a sixteen year old boy, nowhere near the three hundred years of experience he had when fighting Anissa.
“eight clansmen died in battle. Due to your incompetence, due to you making a mockery of war, of battle.” Krigis said as he threw eight sabre's at Krimin’s feet. “Are you willing to be impaled eight times?”
The laws of the clan were absolute.
Krimin looked at the sabre's, the pain was practically jolting through his body just thinking about it.
“Yes.” he replied in a shaky tone.
“Leave me and my son.” Krigis waved his hand and dismissed the three generals.
As soon as they left he enveloped the tent in divine sense and slowly stood up before approaching Krimin.
With every step he took Krimin felt a jolt of pain run through his body, the idea of being stabbed eight times consecutively horrified him.
He closed his eyes waiting for it, however it never came.
He hesitantly opened his left eye and his mouth hung wide open as he saw the scene before him.
His father had impaled himself with the sabres, two in each of his legs and two in each of his arms.
“The clans laws are absolute, if someone below fifty commits a crime their caretaker shall take the punishment in their stead.” He spoke as he did before, as if the eight sabres meant nothing to him.
Despite his clearly egregious state Krigis pretended as if nothing was wrong.
Krimin could barely look at the stomach churning sight before him.
“Do not avert your gaze, the men who died, looked far worse then I do now."
Krimin managed to nod and hold eye contact.
“Remember this.” Krigis put a hand on his shoulder. “War is no game, life is no game, death is no game. In matters of battle one can never… never disrespect battle.”
He turned around and walked back to the chair he had sat in before sitting down, still impaled.
“For when you disrespect battle, it will most certainly humble you. In the future every battle you fight, make sure that you know you stand upon the corpses your clansmen, never forget."
Krimin bowed before the clan head earlier, but now he bowed again. This time to his father.
"I will never disrespect a battle again." He spoke as his eyes shone with determination.