The dining hall in the military camp buzzed with activity. Long wooden tables filled with recruits, plates clattering, and voices carrying conversations that ranged from the mundane to the slightly more interesting. Apollyon and Willard sat at one of these tables, their trays of food before them.

Willard picked at his meal, a look of concentration on his face as he tried to spear a particularly elusive piece of vegetable with his fork. Apollyon watched with amusement for a moment before deciding to break the silence.

"You know, Willard, sometimes I think these vegetables are trained to evade us."

Willard looked up, a hint of a smile on his face as he finally captured the elusive vegetable. "I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe it's part of their secret military training program."

Apollyon chuckled, then grew more serious. "Speaking of training, what did you think about the old man decurion's announcement today?"

Willard's smile lingered as he nodded. "About the chance to become knights if we rank high enough? Well, I think its great brother; I can almost imagine wielding my sword like a proud knight in those stories my mother used to tell me. What about you?"

Apollyon leaned in closer with intrigue in his eyes, his voice dropping to a lower tone. "Honestly, Willard, I think it's all a game. They want us to fight for rewards and glory, but I can't help but wonder if it's just a way to control us, to make us more obedient you know?"

Willard looked thoughtful, his brow furrowing. "Wait you think they have some ulterior motive? Like, they're not really interested in making us knights?"

Apollyon shrugged, picking at his own food. "I don't know for sure. But this place, it's not what it seems like on the surface. There are layers to this camp, lets just say that I've seen glimpses of a darker side. I just think we need to be careful that’s all”.

"Come on brother surely its nothing like that, you know, I'm actually kinda excited about the competitions. I mean, it sounds like another chance to prove ourselves, right?"

Apollyon raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair in defeat, wearing a wry smile. "Prove ourselves, huh? Willard, do you really think this is about proving ourselves as warriors? Or do you think it’s more than that?"

Willard blinked, his youthful enthusiasm momentarily dampened. "More than that? Come on, Apollyon, it's just some friendly competition and a promise of prestige, what more is there?"

Apollyon chuckled softly, realizing he might just be overthinking things. "You've got a point, Willard. Maybe I'm just reading too much into it. But hey, at least we'll get some rewards out of it, right? Who doesn't love a good reward?"

Willard's eyes lit up again. "Rewards? Like what?"

Apollyon grinned mischievously. "Well, they said we'll get elixirs and stuff, right? Maybe we'll find a potion that makes vegetables taste better!"

“Ha! Damn right brother; if only we could get some special meat, that’d be great.”

‘Jokes aside, this kid sure is hopeless…but hey who am I to judge; he’s only six years old. Can’t expect much from a developing child I suppose ’ Apollyon mentally noted.

Apollyon then took on a curious stance, "So, Willard, what's your strategy for the upcoming competitions? How are you planning to prepare?"

Willard's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he replied. "I'm going to train extra hard, you know, practice my swordplay and endurance. And I'm going to save up on contribution points too. Plan on booking a couple of lessons you see."

Apollyon nodded, impressed by Willard's dedication. “Sounds solid, training and earning contribution points will definitely give you an edge. Just remember, don't push yourself too hard and get abused by guards again. At least be in one piece you know!"

Willard laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. "Don't worry, brother. I'll do my best this time, and that was a one-time mistake! I'll show you what I’m made of you’ll see!"

Apollyon, intrigued by the idea of Willard participating in duels, decided to delve deeper into his combat capabilities and interests.

"Willard, have you had any experience in combat or dueling before? Is there a specific weapon or fighting style you're particularly skilled in?"

Willard's eyes widened, and he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, not really, Apollyon. I mean, apart from the basic training we’ve done, like swordplay and hand-to-hand combat, I guess I'm just a jack of all trades, master of none, you know? Nothing too fancy, father never taught me self-defence you see…"

Apollyon chuckled, appreciating his honesty. "That's alright, I guess. Hey maybe being versatile can be a strength in its own way. You never know when a certain skill might come in handy during a duel.”

“I mean I guess so, I’ll learn anything I can at this point” Willard said in all honesty.

“Is that right? Well, how about a friendly practice duel? It'll be a good way to see where we both stand in terms of combat skills.”

Willard looked a bit hesitant, clearly unsure if he wanted to engage in a spar with Apollyon. “I don't know, brother. You're probably a lot better than me, and I wouldn't want to embarrass myself.”

Apollyon grinned, trying to goad Willard into accepting the challenge. “Come on, Willard, you don’t know that; it's all in good fun. Besides, sparring with someone can help you improve faster. What do you think?"

Willard sighed thinking for a moment, “Alright, you've got a point. Let's do it!”, he finally relented, a competitive spark igniting in his eyes.

…

In the eastern courtyard, away from the watchful and ridiculing eyes of the older recruits, Apollyon and Willard prepared for their friendly spar. Willard was dressed in the standard armour of a young tiro, complete with a gladius and shield. Apollyon, on the other hand, had opted for a simpler approach, wearing only his uniform and carrying his lonesome gladius.

Apollyon couldn't help but chuckle at Willard's choice of armour as he scrutinized its description mentally.

{Iron breastplate (Common): Defence 25 (Phys) ~ Provides decent upper body protection.}

"Willard, are you planning to fight a dragon or something? We're just sparring, not storming a castle."

Willard, looking a bit sheepish, adjusted his armour. "Well, you never know, Apollyon. It's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

Apollyon rolled his eyes, a mischievous glint in them. "Alright, if you say so. But don't blame me if you can't move in that heavy gear."

They took their positions, swords at the ready, and as they began to circle each other, Apollyon couldn't help but tease Willard further.

"Remember, Willard, the key to victory is agility and finesse, not clunky armour."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Willard, a bit nervously, replied, "I'll keep that in mind, brother."

As Apollyon circled Willard, he couldn't help but feel a sense of confidence. He had been practicing with Alfred secretly for some time, honing his combat skills and body cultivation. This friendly duel with Willard was an opportunity for him to gauge the younger recruit's competence without completely overwhelming him.

In his mind, Apollyon was already planning how to keep the spar balanced. He didn't want to hurt Willard; his main goal was to test the kid's abilities, not to thrash him around. He knew that Willard was still inexperienced, and he didn't want to discourage him. So, he decided to use just the bare minimum of his skills, focusing on defence and evasion rather than delivering powerful strikes.

Apollyon couldn't help but smirk, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "Come on, Willard," he taunted, his voice laced with playfulness. "You can't beat me if you don't attack. Give it your best shot!"

Willard's face contorted with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. He seemingly lacked the confidence that Apollyon seemed to exude effortlessly. "I... I don't want to hurt you," he stammered, gripping his sword tightly.

Apollyon chuckled, lowering his sword slightly. "Hurt me? Don't worry about that, Willard. We're just sparring. Besides I’m getting bored over here, you won't get any better if you don't go on the offensive."

Willard hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath, steeling himself. He lunged forward with an attack, his sword aimed at Apollyon's side. It was a bit clumsy, but it was a start.

‘Too slow…’

Apollyon easily parried the strike, his movements fluid and precise. He could have easily disarmed Willard, but instead, he allowed the younger recruit's attack to be deflected harmlessly. "Good! That's it," he encouraged. "Now, follow through with another!"

Willard's confidence began to grow with each passing moment. He launched a series of attacks, each one a little more controlled and purposeful than the last.

‘His strikes are too weak…’

Apollyon continued to parry and evade, giving Willard the chance to practice without feeling overwhelmed.

As the spar between Apollyon and Willard continued, Apollyon's initial enthusiasm began to wane. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of boredom creeping in. Willard's movements were still somewhat clumsy, and his attacks lacked the finesse Apollyon was used to in his practice lessons with Alfred.

Inwardly, Apollyon sighed. He didn't want to be too critical of Willard; after all, they were just sparring, and Willard was doing his best. But the stark contrast in their combat abilities was hard to ignore.

‘This kid has heart though’, he thought, ‘but he's so inexperienced.’

As he deftly parried yet another one of Willard's strikes, Apollyon's mind wandered. He thought about his grandfather, Grieswald sparring with his sister Ares. He also remembered his own early days, struggling to grasp the basics of combat. He had been fortunate to have a mentor who guided him patiently.

‘Is this how the old man felt when sparring with me? Maybe even Alfred felt this way the damned crony…’

Apollyon's instincts screamed at him to exploit Willard's weaknesses, to press the attack and end the spar swiftly. But something held him back.

‘Patience’, he reminded himself, ‘that's what Willard needs.’

With every clash of their blades, Apollyon made a conscious effort to hold back just enough. He wanted to gauge Willard's abilities and provide him with an opportunity to learn. It was a fine line to walk; challenging enough to be engaging but not so overwhelming that Willard lost heart.

Willard swung his sword with enthusiasm, each strike filled with determination. However, Apollyon's movements were fluid and efficient. He sidestepped Willard's attacks effortlessly, redirecting them with minimal effort.

‘This kid really needs more training’, Apollyon thought.

Willard's attempts were predictable, his footwork clumsy, and his strikes lacked precision. Every time he lunged; Apollyon could see the openings in his guard a mile away. But rather than exploit them, Apollyon chose to parry and deflect, offering Willard opportunities to learn.

Willard's frustration began to show. He was panting heavily, sweat glistening on his forehead, but his determination was unwavering. He knew he was outmatched, yet he refused to give in.

‘There’s that spirit again’, Apollyon noted, a hint of admiration in his thoughts.

Despite the one-sided nature of the spar, Apollyon couldn't help but respect Willard's perseverance. He realized that beneath the clumsy exterior was a young recruit who genuinely wanted to improve.

As Willard launched another attack, Apollyon decided to test him. He allowed the strike to come closer, only to sidestep at the last moment. Willard's blade whooshed through the air, missing its target by inches.

"Good try," Apollyon said with an encouraging nod. "But remember, don't telegraph your moves. Keep your stance balanced and your strikes unpredictable."

‘Gee…I’m sounding like the old man right now’ he chuckled internally.

Willard nodded, determination burning in his eyes. He adjusted his stance and took a deep breath, ready to continue the sparring session. Afterwards he stopped his enthusiastic strikes and hugged his sword and shield facing Apollyon with keen eyes.

“Oh, what’s this Willard? Getting scared?” Apollyon smirked taunting him once more.

Apollyon continued to circle Willard with a degree of nonchalance but to his surprise, he saw that Willard was pivoting in accordance with his direction always keeping his shield pointed straight at him with gladius at the ready.

“Come on Willard, try me!”

Subsequently, Willard neither slashed nor tried to parry Apollyon’s light attacks, no he stabbed at directions where he thought Apollyon would end up in. He was predicting Apollyon’s movements albeit with a tinge of clumsiness as the latter swiftly evaded with ease.

‘So, he’s begun to think I see’, Apollyon noticed. ‘His strikes are becoming more controlled it seems like’ he remarked as he baited Willard several times.

Despite his initial boredom, Apollyon found himself becoming slightly invested in the spar. He saw some potential in Willard, he felt like he could teach him a thing or two.

‘Maybe’, he mused, ‘just maybe, I could train my own “poster boy” he laughed internally before shaking his cheeky thoughts away.

Apollyon decided it was time to end the spar. With calculated precision, he parried one of Willard's attacks, then swiftly closed the distance between them. In a blur of movement, he disarmed Willard, sending his sword clattering to the ground.

Before Willard could react, Apollyon delivered a controlled, sweeping kick to his legs. It wasn't meant to hurt, just enough to unbalance him. However, it caused Willard to stumble backward and hit the ground prompting him to look up at Apollyon with a mix of surprise and defeat.

"Good effort," Apollyon said whilst offering a hand to help Willard up. "You've got the spirit, I guess. But remember, combat is about more than just swinging your sword wildly. It's about strategy, control, and adaptability. Keep practicing, and you'll improve in no time."

Willard accepted the hand and pulled himself up, a mixture of exhaustion and determination in his eyes. "Thanks, brother. I'll keep working at it. You're surprisingly a great teacher."

Apollyon couldn't help but smirk at the compliment. "Well, what can I say; I’m a man of many talents I suppose" he paused, “Just give me a shout if you want to train together again” he scrunched his nose shamelessly with both hands on his waist posturizing.

“Wait, really?” Willard almost stammered, “You mean that?”

“Sure thing, I don’t see the problem; heh! I can take on a hundred little Willards in a duel” Apollyon continued to posturize.

Willard silently rolled his eyes before accepting the offer, “Alright I’ll do just that, don’t take back those words brother.”

“Relax, relax; promise I won’t” chuckled Apollyon. “Anyway, Ill catch you later; gotta see something” Apollyon waved in a hurry.

“Right…” mustered Willard as he stared at his back with a mixture of feelings, “…thanks.”

…

Apollyon made his way to the camp's smithy, the anticipation of seeing the finished croclith whip building with each step as he yearned to finish his special quest. The smithy was a place of constant activity, the rhythmic clang of hammers on metal and the roar of the forge creating a symphony of creation.

Inside, he found the lead smith, a burly man with a gruff demeanor but skilled hands. He was overseeing a team of apprentices working on various weapons and armor. When he spotted Apollyon, he wiped his sweat-slicked brow with the back of his hand and nodded.

"Back to see the whip, lad?" he asked in his deep voice.

‘Damn right old man’ he wanted to say.

Apollyon nodded eagerly. "Yes, I've been looking forward to seeing the finished product good sir."

The lead smith snorted and motioned for one of the apprentices to bring the croclith whip. Moments later, the young apprentice returned, carefully cradling the whip in his hands.

It was a sight to behold. The whip's handle was crafted from polished bone, intricately carved with patterns resembling the scales of the croclith itself. The leather of the whip was supple and well-tanned, and Apollyon could see that the teeth and spines had been expertly embedded into the leather in a double arrangement of lethality.

The lead smith handed the whip to Apollyon, allowing him to observe it closely. "Took some work, this did. Croclith materials aren't easy to handle. But I reckon it's a fine piece now."

Apollyon took the whip in his hands, feeling its weight and balance. He examined the craftsmanship with a keen eye, appreciating the artistry that had gone into its creation.

{Croclith Whip (Rare): Attack 35-45 (Phys) ~ A fearsome looking whip fashioned from a Dreadscale Croclith; it’s uncanny design allows for various uses.}

"It's perfect," he said, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face. "You’ve outdone yourself, lead smith. Exceptional work indeed."

The lead smith grunted in response, clearly pleased with Apollyon's exaggerated approval. "Glad you like it. Take a good look, lad. It's a one-of-a-kind piece."

Ding!