(“Why the hell did you even come back anyway?”) Tibaut thought as he looked around the room before jumping inside.

(“What, isn't it because I obviously missed you? You're my favourite fool, you know.”)

The old man wasn't anywhere on site on a cursory glance and worst, the door was open. What was bastard planning to do with-

Ash quickly kicked him back outside as he looked around and Tibaut managed to land flush on his feet. The old man hid to the side of the window and used his surprise attack to get Tibaut outside. Perhaps he wasn't comfortable fighting in such a small space?

He quickly jumped back outside with a weapon in hand.

(“So that's where it was…”) Tibaut thought to himself as he observed the weapon in Ash's hands.

“It's been a while since I've used this.”

Tibaut quickly closed in and all Ash had to do was trip him. He flipped over and went back first into the branch building.

(“It's nice to know that whenever he goes quicker than I can react, he can't control his movement.”)

Tibaut could move at a similar speed to Mr. Bentley but whenever he tried to go beyond he'd end up having either too little traction on the ground or reacting too slowly to stop himself.

Ash continued as Tibaut got up and approached him at a more reasonable pace.

“I'll have you know I haven't always used this sword, and nor did I have it at my current age.”

He answered as he blocked a blow from Tibaut with the greatsword. In his hand was the same greatsword Ezekiel used the first time he met him. It was a thick sword with a wide point at its tip. It looked more like something you used to smash someone's bones than cleanly cut a hand off. But Tibaut could clearly tell the blade had been honed.

Tibaut tried to push the sword out of the way and get a clean hit in but the old man flicked the sword around as if it was no heavier than a feather and blocked his strike again.

“It was a gift from a friend of mine in my later years. I'm not sure why he gave such a lovely weapon to me-” Tibaut swept his legs and the old man attempted to slash with the blade. Tibaut blocked the attack and kicked him.

Ash somehow dodged the kick and placed a leg of his over Tibaut's as the kick was still going, which threw his leg with enough force sending his lower half upwards.

Tibaut blocked another slash with his gauntlets, as he used this momentum to try another attack on Tibaut. He soon landed on his feet facing Tibaut.

“But the instant I received it, I had a thought. What if I had this weapon back in my youth? What if a young bundle of energy had time to grow and move forward with this weapon instead of a man past his prime who wasted his youth in misery? What if this version of me had such a weapon!?”

He said, with the long-gone smile suddenly returning to his face.

(“He's changed up his style with the sword…”) Tibaut thought as he watched the old man continue to prattle. He couldn't care less about what that old man had to say.

(“Really?”)

“I swear if that boy had learned to use the sword in my own style then-”

(“What the hell?”) He thought as he listened.

(“Now that's not nice now, is it? You should respect the elderly.”)

The voice in his head had somehow forced him to listen to the old man's prattling. His aura flared from the audacity of this act and he made his way towards Ash like a raging bull.

(“He's moving faster than me but he's nowhere the speeds he ran at me earlier.”)

Ash summoned two flames next to him before running towards him.

The two clashed with their weapons, both men feeling its sting. Mr. Bentley’s sword was pushed away to the side and Tibaut tried to crush his head with a gauntlet. Ash used the momentum of his parried sword for a kick and both men missed due to the other man's wary.

He continued spinning himself and came back around with his sword. Tibaut stopped it with the forearm of his gauntlet and it felt like he had tried to stop a hammer. He was sure if the gauntlet didn't absorb some of the impact, he would have broken his forearm.

He was in a lowered position and Ash quickly backed away, moving back as soon as a punch landed on his hip.

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Even then the punch nearly sent him onto his knees. He managed to use the momentum instead and spun around.

(“This boy, if that punch had landed cleanly, it might leave my hip in worse shape than when I was an old man!”)

(“He seems to be using the weight of the blade to fling himself around. It’s a lot more loose of a fighting style than the one he was using earlier.”)

The old man soon threw his sword towards him like a hammer throw. The unexpected attack had Tibaut quickly batting the blade towards the air, as soon as he was within arm's length of it. But afterwards, he didn't see Ash anywhere until he quickly looked up and dodged to the side, before blocking again.

The old man jumped into the air after throwing the sword and planned to stomp on Tibaut. But with the boy so generously giving his weapon back, he may as well use it and slam it down. Tibaut blocked the follow-up attack as he rushed towards him.

For now, he decided to observe the style and make note of any weaknesses but…

(“Already!?”)

(“Already!? Says the man who wasted time with this nonsense. You should have gone all out when you had the chance.”)

The flames that followed Ash were now hot enough to be felt. And they glowed a glow bright enough to blind Tibaut if one was thrown in his face.

Like a student who didn't study as much as they should with a test paper in their face, he decided he waited long enough and went into the thick of it.

And found himself confused when Ash touched one of them with his blade, completely getting rid of it.

He sliced upwards, throwing himself backwards with a flip and Tibaut stepped forward before quickly stepping back.

(“Didn't he just!?”)

The brief distraction allowed Ash to swipe at his chest with the blade. The leather straps that held it must have been weakened by the heat of the flames when they touched his skin earlier because the force of the sword ripped the chest plate off one side of him. Although it had some straps remaining, its dangling did him more harm than good.

He backed away and ripped it off, before spinning himself around as Ash approached. He threw the chest plate at the man like a discus and slid across the ground.

He blocked the chest plate but noticed Tibaut too late. He caught his legs with his own and tripped the orange-haired bastard.

He quickly moved his legs trying to smash his throat with a kick but Ash was quick enough to raise his sword to block. He blocked with the blade and was unpleasantly surprised when Tibaut’s leg survived it and the blade an inch or so from his neck.

Tibaut wore a metal plate on his leg that now had a massive gash, but it was better the armour be damaged than his own leg.

Ash pushed his leg off and Tibaut quickly rolled to the side when one of the flames approached him. He got back to his feet and approached the now-standing Ash as well but quickly jumped up and kicked off his chest to back away when he felt the heat build by his legs.

He saw a bright flame now where his feet used to be.

(“What the hell is doing? Is he making them appear and disappear? Can you do that, I thought it took time to build their heat up.”)

(“Hmm, you got a C for getting the end result. If you defend it for another minute I might tell you how it works.”)

(“Could you please shut up, each time you say you know something that puts my life in danger and say nothing until it happens, all I can think about is finding a cactus and shoving it so far up your ass you can taste the shit covered thorns when it comes out of your mout-”)

He blocked the blade, but it seemed he swung himself with enough force he could attempt an axe kick that landed solidly on Tibaut’s shoulder. It sent him to a knee and Ash tried to end with a final slam of the sword.

Tibaut pushed it aside and quickly stepped on the blade of the sword, jerking Ash downwards and lifting a foot to kick his head off. But as soon as his foot was about to hit, he noticed one of the flames approaching. Where was it? Did he manage to make it disappear at some point?

He connected with Ash's head and sent the young man tumbling back but he was the one that was left scrambling. Unlike the last flames, that bastard had somehow managed to make these ones sticky as well. It connected to the metal plate he wore on his leg and he was forced to rip it off. It had somehow managed to char the leather straps on it, which made removal easy but he couldn't help but gasp at what happened to it. It felt solid when he took it off but, by the time it reached the floor, all that was left was some red-hot liquid metal with an almost white flame on top of it.

He ducked a slash from Ash that took some more hair off his head and he quickly remembered he still had a fight left to finish.

He blocked and parried the movements of Ash but every time he thought he had an opportunity those damn flames would get into his way. Instead of catching him by surprise, it looked like Ash was back to his old strategy of moving them to annoy and restrict his movements.

Tibaut managed to find an opening. He parried his sword into a flame, getting rid of it and used his fist on that side to land a punch.

(“He was probably just trying to fuck with me. If I saw it disappear normally I'd be way more suspicious.”)

And as his fist flew closer and closer, the young couldn't help but wear a smile on his face.

The flame reappeared and Tibaut kept his fist sailing.

He connected with Ash's face and a sizzling sound was heard as the man was sent to the ground a few feet away.

“Ah! F-fuck!” Tibaut whimpered in pain. He took the gauntlet off and threw it to the floor. The fingers of it were completely melted, though the rest remained, with a warm red glow taking it over.

His hand was covered in burns and the skin was even peeling, sliding off at some parts.

As he clutched his hand and looked towards Ash, he could only curse under his breath. It wasn't enough.

(“I should have let it heal when I was observing him!”) He said to himself.

He now had a burn on the side of his face, with a now vacant expression, but the man still managed to get back to his feet.

(“I should have known one punch wasn't going to be enough.”)