Upon the connected hit, Zigmund was unable to fully deflect the force of this attack. He was flung far and fell to his back while even traveling a few meters on his back on the ground. The force wasn't small at all. However, no fractures, nor injuries were on his body since he was tough as well. Perhaps the only thing from this was a numb forearm from the tip of the staff, which was quite forceful.

Jumping from his back in no time, he voiced with a serious expression. “How cheeky. How cheeky. Your way of doing things is getting better and better.”

“I am practicing a lot, mister Zigmund. Is that not wrong?”

“No. Not at all. Please continue doing so. I won't be polite, either.”

Zigmund changed his style of attacking from this moment on. Striking with more force and pushing Allan into many situations when he was unable to dodge in time or simply because he couldn't.

This was a very valuable experience each time he did this, and Allan couldn't help but defend himself with all of his mind. Though, he would be obliterated if it wouldn't be for Zigmund's intentions.

Zigmund's experience showed a drastically different approach to the art of striking and feigning attacks. Allan fell many times but continued to rise before the next attacks, which went against his staff. It never left his hands, but this was what he wanted to feel. This kind of spar left a lot of things to be learned and understood, so there was no stopping it.

Allan usually let out a few successful strikes, but they left less than a minor annoyance in Zigmund's face. No matter the successful counterattack, the course of the spar from then on was quickly one-sided. In Zigmund's favor, of course.

With a thud, Allan was kicked to the feet with a knee to his defending chest. It forced him once again to the ground, but this time, it wasn't the same as before. Zigmund held his staff and caused Allan to be unable to move.

“Now what? What will you do from the ground up?“ he asked the boy, who struggled to move.

“Huh?”

“Ground is also a battlefield, you know?”

“I know...Can you stop holding me back?” Allan replied, struggling, he thought about what to do.

“No.”

“Ugh...” Allan had no choice left, so he did his best to get free. Twisting his right side of the body, he tried to force himself to crawl to his right. This was a generic try to get out of this hold, so he discarded his right hand on the staff and grabbed Zigmund's hand. This was a little try to get free since Zigmund was pushing against him with full body strength, but not pressing his whole body.

He still had a respectable amount of free movement. It was the pressure that was annoying. This was a one-sided position, so his body could get out of this position by focusing his body weight and force to escape to the right.

He pushed his knees to his upper body, and with successful free movement, twisted them and pushed forth with all his force. Zigmund's hands were no longer on his staff, he was kicked to his chest, while Allan twisted his body to his right, and got up from the ground with this movement.

“Whoa.” Zigmund backed away from this sudden push. He planned to hold him much longer to see what he would do, but he was involuntarily pushed from his feet up. Perhaps he would even fly a few steps away if it wasn't for his forceful strength and focus.

“What was that strength? That was quite impressive. I've never experienced such a move before.” Zigmund wondered. Surprised by the balance, strength, and flexibility on Allan's part, he continued to think of the next move.

“Now what?” Allan calmly said as he returned to his stance with a question.

“Soon end, I suppose. Come on. Strike me this time.” Zigmund said back while forcing Allan to do the usual things before the end of the spar.

Allan stepped forward and let a long-ranged thrust with a single hand. Twisting his hand, legs, and hips, it traveled quite far in Zigmund's direction. This was a trust which he regularly used, but something basic, that was effective.

But it wasn't so regular for Zigmund, who knew this was a sword-destroying attack that was hard to deflect. Deflecting this thrust from the very tip of the was the base solution for such a situation, but he couldn't do it. This was already beyond too forward-heavy, and this won't stop. This strike would not stop until Allan himself reached a maximum distance.

Of course, he could dodge this to his heart's content, but that would be unfair to Allan, so he thought of something else. He will still dodge but in a different way.

“Too straightforward,” Zigmund muttered and hunched forth in front of Allan's attack. It washed his side, as he did so with the right step aside. Allan anticipated it and changed his attack by twisting his other hand and hip, while the movement of the legs turned to another blow from the other end of the staff. All he did was sidestep with his legs and changed his hands into a quick change, which Zigmund could still see and defend against it.

Unfortunately for Allan, this was a classic failure on his part when he wasn't fast enough. Zigmund flipped his blade and pushed his hilt blade on the wooden part, while his other hand grabbed the metallic part. This caused the swipe of the staff to stop, even though Allan's full force behind it.

Zigmund kicked his back foot which staggered him and a little push caused him to fall to his back again.

This was expertly done on Zigmund's part, while Allan couldn't counter this, even if he knew this was coming.

“Good. Good. I like that the more you fight, the better the result. Let's do it again.” Zigmund said as he kneeled at Allan's side. He was still unhurt, and another exchange wouldn't hurt this boy.

“No need. Let's end it right here.” Allan told from the ground, while not least bit surprised by the results.

“Is that so? How unfortunate.”

“I still have to forge to be done, so I don't want to be completely drenched and exhausted by your attacks,” Allan replied.

“Right., That isn't a bad attitude. Let's call it a day, then. Work hard in the forge.” Zigmund, as always, left after being done with the spar. This left Allan on the ground, while Sarey unhappily glanced at her father.

Zigmund recalled how used to be like this all the time when he was young. A perspective of calm and hard work was great, while there was no need to go beyond the limits. When one's work is done, it wasn't needed to go overboard, so there could be some time for something else afterward. He left for his office, to take the topic of the spar for another day. That, or he wanted to lick his wounds. Who knew which was which?

“You good, Allan?” Sarey asked as she walked by his side. He still laid on his back with a still anticipated attack of his guarded staff.

“Yes. Yes. Why shouldn't I?” Allan pushed himself up and patted his clothes from the dust and dirt.

“I will be going to the forge to work on something. It should still be early, so if it is possible, I would gladly have a bath afterward.”

Seeing him not at all injured, Sarey didn't find the reason for her refusal. “I will prepare it for you. Unless you won't take forever with your forging.”

“I promise it won't take forever like the last time.”

“Go on then. I will watch out for you.”

Allan then walked towards the other side of the backyard with no further small talk. Sarey didn't believe him all that much when he said he was all well and everything. Any defeat when one tried his best could lead to a small shiver of disappointment. It was a natural aspect of anything combat related. She knew it herself very well since accepting it was a form of improving oneself and one's future.

There is no point in acting on the defeats since one will always improve from them, rather than victories all the time. It was better to take the good as well as the bad things from the spars and then move on with another day. That was the thing she believed in, and the perspective she had long thought of life.

Perhaps she could talk about it to him in greater detail, but she also felt a little detached from him on certain occasions. Sometimes, his problems seemed like his and his only, and that left her a bit irritated. The future he held was also in her hands to some extent, but it caused her some turmoil in her heart. Maybe there was more to this than met the heart, but she was unsure, and unfamiliar with it, so far.

Time would tell everything as always, while even the motion of the Little Fire would show itself if she was patient enough. Sarey anticipated it a little with a smirk on her face. Spying on his forging again was of no issue whatsoever for her, as Allan knew this would be the case. There was nothing much for her to do apart from her free time, where she generally had very little to do. With no work, issues in the house, or her father, she was facing Allan for most of the day. It felt kind of boring in some parts, but it wasn't so bad.

Restaurant, before Allan, held a certain entertainment for her too, since she could see all the folk of living. Leisure time in the kitchen was fun, and she had the opportunity to talk to all kinds of people. It was a great time in the past, but it seemed it was kind of gone. Not, as she complained about it, but it held certain melancholic memories in her mind.

Today and past days changed her view of herself more than she was willing to admit. Only the time and continued pursuit of her interest and happiness would uncover her worries.

In Zigmund's study, his staggering figure walked over and slammed the door behind his back. Caressing his chest, he leaned down to the ground, while his back faced the door. No one would go inside in this way.

“Oyoyoyo... What a day. Ugh... This hurts like hell.” He cursed in silence, and a bit from the failures on his part. There was no time for visible weaknesses when one fights, and he knew it very well. Only when one is away, there is time to feel the pain and visible worries. This didn't change even when he grew old. In fact, it was the same when he was young. The man was supposed to be tough, after all, and he grew up in this way.

“That boy will one day mess me up so badly I won't be able to walk for days. I swear I will hold Sarey responsible for bringing him to such health.” He complained with an unwilling smile on his face.

This time, wasn't as bad for him as he thought it would be. In fact, he couldn't help but look forward to the spars and recall Allan, who seemed like a robust youth with talent.

Caressing his chest and shoulder, he continued to be in this position for a long time.

In the building outside, in Allan's forge. He was currently sitting at his worktable. Leaning by the staff around his face, he pondered about something in lost expression. That or he simply looked weird because it was hard to read his face without his eyes. Only his indifferent mouth leaned by the staff on his cheek.

“What a day. What a day.” He said twice in helplessness. He will have quite a lot to go through once he will be on his bed.

Turning his staff to rest aside, he considered his work on his previous three pieces from a couple of days ago. Allan had three pieces of rough-looking metal blades ready in front of his table. He couldn't see them, but they were perfectly obvious within his palms and touch.

First comes the spearhead, which will be the most complex one to finish. To do things properly, he was willing to take his time and polish the blade as if he worked with a regular whetstone. Although he had the black whetstone in his possession, it matter little if he used it with patience. Of course, he would not use the normal kind in this kind of situation. He wasn't that kind to the thought of his time.

Black whetstone from his father was too good to pass.

Grabbing the black whetstone underneath the table, Allan placed it on the table. It was quite heavy, but with a little work and strength, he managed it. It wasn't as if it was that heavy like the rocks from earlier, but it wasn't that far off. Then he felt the spearhead as if he was the merchant who caressed the fine golden treasures one could find. The only difference was Allan's expression, which was neutral, but hidden was the excitement of finishing these pieces.

He already forgot, or simply cared less, about the promise he made with Zigmund. 10 pieces of the blades could no longer be finished in a matter of days even if he worked himself to exhaustion. He was here not that long, but in fact, it felt much longer to him, since the lack of vision caused his time to be diluted. Not like he would complain, but this promise was also forgotten by Zigmund, who had some other thoughts in mind.

“Length 35 centimeters with 4 centimeters wide piece for wooden pole. Sounds like a rather massive spear when I think about it, but that's good, considering the massive size of the spearhead.” Allan considered after thinking a long time about the handling of such a weapon. When one needs to forge, all kinds of problems or blacksmithing beliefs could take considerable effort and changes.

This sort of spearhead that he forged had some advantages as well as disadvantages. It will be a rather forward-heavy sort of weapon, but that could also not be that bad of a thing for certain individuals who had plenty of physical power.

It went from his memory, where a lot of power could make something like this work wonders. Allan heard of a particular individual in the distant past of the Grusha kingdom. Through the records in the library, it was about one general who was known by a simple, yet famous, name. Mao was the singular name he was known for.

He had no past or family before becoming a general in the royal army. All he wanted was to act according to the will of Grusha's kingdom and made a name for himself. Some believed him to be a mere slave. One who was forced by certain acts to become the tool of war for the royalty until the end of time. Others thought otherwise, but that was history a few decades old. Long before the new emperor came to power, and Clayton wasn't even in the Grusha kingdom.

Though, the talk about this sort of general who was born a slave was quite famous and popular among the commoners. It's like hearing a store one like, it made the morale and thing for commoners that much more enticing. Like an act against the heavens, general Mao led armies to victories.

He was well beyond 2 meters with a sturdy and wide build. Allan imagined him to be that way through the stores, and that was someone who could wield the spear that he was about to make. There was even talk when he cleaved a man in half with a single-handed spear. The power necessary for it was ridiculous, but not something too farfetched.

In fact, there were quite a lot of figures such as this is a vast amount of years which passed the records of many nations. The Kingdom of Grusha wasn't the first, nor the last to write records of warlike events. There were even individuals who made many records outside of the Grusha kingdom because their thrill of knowledge and history was beyond their beliefs of kingdoms. Allan believed this to a certain extent since he hold a certain amount of respect for any kind of historian and researcher of the past.

It's like making a road and future a bit more clear for the people of the future. Although he knew that all that was written wasn't always the truth, he still respected it. It could be a made-up story, a piece of propaganda to promote public perception of their wars, or not at all. Who knew? Not him, nor anyone he knew.

It could all come to nothing, as Allan discovered a realm of possibilities that could cause all things that he read about to become lies. Perhaps the majority of those stories were fabricated or they could all be true to some extent. People of power sometimes wanted to remain unknown, while their history and how they came to power wasn't important to them. The possibility of their interference with such records was more than reasonable to consider.