Marlin lunged at Cyrus, moving so fast that his figure was nothing but a blur to his eyes, and smashed his blade against his. Their blades crossed at each others centre, and the violent screech of metal against metal resounded from their clash.

This screech rang sharply across the entirety of the open glade, leaves shuddering from the heavy noise. Cyrus felt his head throb in pain from this harsh sound that ringed endlessly in his ears. The enormous force Marlin exerted onto his sword forced Cyrus to buckle.

Cyrus had never touched a proper sword in his life, and his only experience with any sort of weapon was limited to a selection of sticks and stones found on Grandheart Forest's floor.

So when Marlin swung so aggressively against him, Cyrus's first instinct was to simply grit and hold his guard.

Their contest of strength lasted for a few seconds as they locked eyes in the challenge of each other.

Both were grinning like madmen. The excitement of danger, the thrill of adventure, the drama of the fight - all the fantastical dreams of teenage boys filled their minds and they simply did not care for anything else. Pure exhilaration pervaded them.

Then, Cyrus broke their stalemate as he suddenly forced down his sword, drawing both their blade closer and closer to their crossguards. Their swords shrieked at the motion, the edges sparking from the friction, causing Marlin's blade to tremble at the crushing force that pressured it.

Cyrus was taller and bigger than Marlin - his reach was superior to his, and his height advantage would make it so that his blade would inevitably overpower him.

Marlin too realized this, reacting immediately as he flattened his blade in an attempt to diverge Cyrus's blade towards the side. Twisting his wrist, Marlin aligned Cyrus's sword away from his body, with its pale silver steel and the rushing wind barely an inch away from his flesh. But, as soon as he did so, he exposed his right flank towards the keen, expecting eyes of Cyrus.

Cyrus immediately dropped all strength in his sword, and as Marlin lurched forward from the abruptly missing force, he delivered a satisfying kick to Marlin's abdomen. He was sent flying. His sword shot into the dirt.

"That was cheating." Marlin groggily complained, sprawled onto his back on the warm grass as he stared into the endless, cloud-dotted sky.

"Hey, I never complained when you used magic on the way here," Cyrus replied, entertained at the sight of a downed Marlin.

"You realized that?"

"Of course. You didn't expect me to think you spent all your time at Harlorr dancing, did you? How else would you carry two swords and beat me in a run?"

'I did expect you to think that' Marlin thought to himself. 'Because that's something only someone as stupid as you could think'.

But it seemed that more than just Cyrus's height had grown in their year apart. As Marlin laid there, pondering, Cyrus's loud voice interrupted him.

"Get up! You're not done yet, mister skin and bones?"

"Of course not!" Marlin, immediately recovered by Cyrus's taunt, shot up and reclaimed his sword. But, as he turned towards Cyrus, he closed his eyes and called on his magic.

A faint light emitted from his body - dying his figure a cerulean blue like the sky above him. Countless runes, bizarre and indecipherable, collected on Marlin's skin. An invisible, immense power gathered around Marlin, it's boundless strength ready to be bent and unleashed to his will alone. Cyrus felt the crushing sensation of magic in the air, which enveloped his body and nearly sent him on his knees.

He did not even really need to see it, he simply remembered the overwhelming experience that was Marlin's awakening ceremony. The incomprehensible power he wielded, the great majesty of his very being, and the awe he felt in his presence - it all came rushing back to Cyrus.

This was Marlin. Not the scrawny, weak teenager he had beaten down with sheer muscle alone, but a mighty sovereign of magic that ruled a power he could never even touch. A boy with ideas and ambitions that eclipsed everything he had ever seen or known.

It was not the feeble, scheming orphan that stood in front of Cyrus. It was Marlin, the great dreamer and perhaps the most promising and gifted Mage in the whole kingdom. An apprentice Mage, but a Mage nonetheless. The difference between Cyrus and Marlin was comparable to that of the heaven and earth - a god to his subjects, or a king to his slaves.

Cyrus felt an impossible pressure on his body and soul as he stood half-bent in Marlin's overpowering presence. Marlin's eyes were on fire. Blazing, Burning and filled with a determination that few could understand.

His blade glowed with an unearthly hue, it's pale silver blade becoming wholly dark and throbbing with his magic. Their swords, although the same, was now so different that they seemed worlds apart. A king could not hold a peasants tool, after all.

"On your feet." Marlin's voice demanded. His voice was baritone, laced with the deep echo of magic. "I will not use any spells, for your sake. I'll try not to kill you."

"Thanks for the handicap, I guess." Cyrus croaked out. Even with the handicap, he thought, there was still no way he was going to stand even a chance. He was barely even standing, and he felt his bones shudder at every move.

But even so, Cyrus rose up and faced the challenge, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of awe and fear. But even now, he was still smiling.

Marlin swung his sword. There was no grace or form in the slash, just simple, absolute strength. Cyrus raised his blade to meet Marlin's, and when they connected, and Cyrus felt a vast weight crash into him.

His body smashed into the ground, hands and sword trembling from the brutal shock. He tasted blood in his mouth.

So strong, he thought. How could someone be this strong? It was illogical, impossible, but magic made everything possible.

Marlin's frail body had been charged so strongly with magic that streaks of bright light cracked on his skin.

Cyrus crawled back up, his silver sword held tightly in front of him. Marlin swung again, his blade once again ruthlessly crashing into his, but this time Cyrus was ready.

Clang!

As their swords connected, Cyrus felt his muscles straining, pushing against the immeasurable force behind Marlin's blade. Cryus was forced back step after step. He could feel everything in his body collapse - tendons twisting, bones shuddering and his muscles at the breaking point.

The relentless assault would not cease. He closed his eyes and steeled himself for as long as he could. He was so close to breaking, just one more second and he would -

Then it stopped. Cyrus blinked his eyes wide open. He saw Marlin, his sword still touching on his own, standing in front of him and unable to push any further.

 His face was full of surprise, clearly not expecting Cyrus to still be standing after his full power. He had done what he thought impossible. His eyes narrowed. But Marlin was not done yet.

He once again swung, but this time when their blades met, Cyrus was forced back from the force, but he did not budge from his stance. His sword, in defiance of their differences, did not cower in his presence. Marlin struck once, then twice, then thrice, yet Cyrus parried them all.

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Cyrus's actions were thoughtless. His entire body was burning, parts of himself that he didn't know existed throbbing in agony. He didn't know how he was fighting Marlin, only that he could now see something that he couldn't see before.

When Marlin swung, he simply followed the blade and braced himself. Even with the gigantic strength of magic, Marlin lacked any kind of real skill with the sword. He was compensating for their differences in size and talent with his magical power.

All Cyrus had was his body. His arms were numb with shock and his legs were on fire. Cyrus would lose every exchange, but every exchange revealed Marlin's flaws. He would match Marlin's innate superiority by sacrificing his body.

Marlin's blows grew weaker and weaker to Cyrus, having adapted being beaten at every exchange they made. They parried and struck and parried and struck. The grass they fought on was crushed by their steps. Again, another strike was unleashed onto Cyrus.

Clang!

As he reeled back, Cyrus's eyes glowed. He saw it - Marlin's weakness. An exposed side, an unguarded right flank. Cyrus's blade thrust forwards like an eagle charging its prey. Marlin, for the first time since unleashing his magic, was forced to defend himself.

His guard was sloppy, and only through sheer might barely deflected the attack. Surprise flashed on his Marlin's face, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

Marlin attempted to restart his assault, but before he could do so, Cyrus immediately continued his counterattack. He had to guard himself, once again forced to parry Cyrus's deadly thrusts as he was forced onto the defensive.

 Marlin's magic could not help him to defend himself, for, after all, god-like strength was useless when he could not attack with it. All of his opportunities was sealed by the repeating assault of strikes and jabs that threatened to win the challenge.

Cyrus pushed on, flowing with the tempo of the fight as he suppressed every move Marlin could make. Cyrus's strikes were clumsy and unbalanced, but even a novice's desperate flailing was potentially fatal if Marlin was careless.

Cyrus was completely exhausted. He sustained himself only on the sheer exhilaration of their battle, with adrenaline pumping through every drop of blood.

The fight was rapidly swinging in Cyrus's favour, as he forced Marlin further and further back until he touched the trunk of an oak tree on the fringes of the glade.

 Frustration boiled inside Marlin. He had never felt so humiliated in his life. How was it possible? How could he be pushed this far?

It felt like a joke, the Mage Apprentice of the Mage-Lord Thaerus losing while using his magic against some common. He had worked so hard to shed his life as a common, only to fail against the one he believed he was superior to.

 Marlin could accept that Cyrus was stronger than him. Marlin could accept that Cyrus was more agile than him. But he could not accept that his magic was so inferior that he could be bested in combat.

Marlin, in his great anger, forgot about the competition. He took this as an attack on his very being, that all his effort amounted to nothing.

"Get off of me!" Marlin shouted as a pulse of magic erupted from his body. The formless, booming magic shook the earth and blasted everything around Marlin away. Cyrus was sent flying backwards as the shockwaves smashed into his body.

"I thought you weren't going to use spells?" Cyrus groaned, secretly elated that he had forced him to use a spell.

The world spun around him as he tried to reorientate himself. The magic pulse had hit him hard on the head, and he knew that he wasn't going to last much longer.

Marlin did not reply to his question but simply glared at Cyrus's crouching figure. They both instinctively knew that the end was near. Cyrus, drained and barely conscious, had been beaten around so hard that he looked like he had wrestled a bear.

He would have to stake everything if he was going to win this, Cyrus rallied himself. He needed to win this. This was almost certainly to be their final great challenge.

Once Marlin returned to Harlorr Castle, they were unlikely to ever meet again. It was the rule of the land for the commons to be segregated away from the Mages. His spirit as a competitor and a friend demanded that this last challenge be his.

They raised their swords and charged at each other. Cyrus poured every ounce of strength into his arms and cleaved downwards into Marlin's blade. Marlin, forcing his magic over impossible limits, attempted to meet Cyrus's blow under the great boon of magic.

It was not until the very last moment when Cyrus realized something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Marlin's eyes had suddenly changed. The great determination he knew so well had been extinguished, instead replaced with a strange, unfamiliar look that Cyrus would have never thought possible on his face.

 It was fear. Pure, unadulterated fear radiated from Marlin.

His magic was gone, Cyrus realized. The runes had vanished, the signature blue light had evaporated, and his impossible strength ripped away with them.

He never realized how hard Marlin had pushed himself. The reality was that Marlin had overexerted his magic to his absolute limit.

The strength, the spells, the power, it all came at a price. If Marlin was to perpetually drain his magic, then he would inevitably bleed himself dry. And when his magic ran dry, he would face the inevitable consequence - exhaustion or death.

Neither of them had noticed how worn Marlin had gotten, not even himself. Cyrus, barely conscious, only had his mind on winning. Marlin, in his anger and frustration, did not even bother to check on his own state and simply pushed himself further.

He had already done the unthinkable by wielding the immense power, for even heaven-sent talents like Marlin have their limits to their magic. Utilizing this state in his frail body was difficult. Extending this strain was an impossibility.

When Marlin attempted to use his magic that final time, he had pushed past this boundary and his body simply shut down.

The exhaustion, no longer being suppressed by the occupation of magic, came crashing down on him.

Marlin went limp. His sword, still extended in front of him, was held without any sort of grip - his fingers so exhausted that they could not grasp the handle. His chest felt like a hammer had smashed into his ribcage. Every inch of himself was numb and motionless.

He tried to defend himself. His arms refused to lift, his legs refused to stand and his entire body failed to even twitch in responce.

Marlin suddenly found himself powerless and fragile. His one and only nightmare, to return to his state of uselessness.

A scared, paralyzed child stared foolishly at his doom.

Cyrus saw a million alien, repressed emotions flash across Marlin's eyes as the silver blade approached his body.

All of Cyrus's final, desperate force was spent onto this slash. It was unstoppable. No amount of strength could hinder the unimaginable momentum it carried.

Cold steel severed through Marlin's figure.

Hot blood spilt onto Cyrus's guilty hands, and the stench of death filled the air.