Allan felt the pressure rising. He stopped himself and stabilized his lags in the same way as before. Stomping his shaft alongside the legs.

The clash of the multiple attacks happened in the blink of an eye. Allan still stood with his legs, and his hold staggered instead. Zigmund's Attack all revolved around his shaft.

Allan decided to back off once more. Feeling that Zigmund was doing some test, but it felt right to go a bit away.

“Defense is relative! What foe is with no ability to attack? They are a living practice.” Zigmund shouted once more and continued with his attack which seemed intense, but lacked the strength. He was holding back with this barrage of attacks.

Allan endured it with his shaft, that he swung and defended with, at what could only appear as a random pace. The vision of the flowing attack crawled into his mind. He was feeling fine. Clearheaded. It was the body that was lacking behind.

Attacks flew by. Sometimes hitting the shaft in a heavy strike, while others were soft attacks in brief moments. Even his body was not spared, as a few times, the shaft backed away to his face or the body. It was at last not the sword.

Allan was trying to keep his stances up, changing the flow and angle of his weapon in sounds that indicated Zigmund's attack.

Imagine a blind man. Expect him to catch dozens of items at the same time. For Allan, it was a similar process.

“Holy Beast! He keeps defending!?” Zigmund felt stunned as he attacked. There were a few things that surprised him like this in his lifetime. Flickering angles from him kept getting interrupted by Allan's corners of his shaft. Although he was not willing to hit Allan with his sword, he had a plethora of other means to hurt a person.

“Is this what the meaning of flow within the combat means?” Zigmund knew one particular older soldier who lost his eyes on one mission. After long years of hesitation, he became someone who walked the path of war, even with his eyes gone. He described it to Zigmund once.

The feeling of being in the dark, yet the world is moving around you. You can't see it but feel it. There was no light, too. His mind would become his sun and eyes. His ears would change. Shimmering sounds of attack would go by and he would dodge them. He could deflect it as he wielded his sword in an easy manner as lifting a hand.

Zigmund would not believe it until he saw him in the occasional spars or the military training in general. His description sounded more humble than the actual spar. He described it as a flow. Continuous ability to adapt to the small things around him.

Zigmund never thought much of it. Figuring out the true meaning of his words was not something he wanted to seek with his own experience. After all, one could only experience his words by being eyeless.

Zigmund's barrage did not stop all this time. Only after what seemed like 10 minutes of eternity did he stop. He was getting tired. Years were not that kind to him and attacking is a tiring job. Especially because he hasn't used such heavy and long attack patterns.

Allan kept his stance from a sudden stop. He continued standing there as if expecting a sudden and hidden attack.

“Calm down, boy. You better rest for now. What is the point of this, anyway? After I am done with Sarey, we will continue with one more spar. You will attack. I will defend and attack at the same time.”

“Huh? Oh... Y-you... are strong, mister Zigmund.” Allan muttered as he caught his breath and fell to his knees. He kept the exchange short and his breathing steady and low for the most part.

While defending, one would have more stamina than the attacker. That is what he knows, too. He was not that tired, but his hands were quite stressed. Including his stress and mindfulness, which he had to use in order to function in defense, of course, he was tired.

If it wasn't for his strong core, he would lose the balance and defense at the same time within the first few minutes. He could be proud of remaining standing all this time, yet he would never know or be satisfied with such a result. Meanings for them were unimportant to him.

Zigmund held his breath from his unspoken curses. He would have to try harder if he wanted to break his defenses, but it would be plain bullying at that point. It was clear to him that Allan had a hard time deflecting the faster flurry of attacks.

Continuous push meant multiple attacks at the same moment. To find the right timing and way to defend without eyes, the attacker would not be that kind to attack such him too kindly.

“Prepare yourself. For now, how about a round with you, daughter of mine?.” Zigmund glanced at his daughter in anticipation.

She sighed from her future and walked toward him.

“It has been a long time since I trained you. How about some basics?”

“Sure. What do you have in mind?” Sarey said in a calm tone. Caressing the handle of her blades with her both hands. Both of her short swords lay beside each side of her hip. They are folded behind her thighs in a neat fashion, while the scabbards rested on her robe.

“Weapon?” Zigmund asked the question, with some hidden meaning. Trying to figure out her motive, or the weapons around her waist.

At first, her confirmation of the spar surprised him. There was a time she wanted to experience the world Zigmund knew from his stories. A time when she was younger and curious. Only after the passing of her earlier years did she feel like not going by his side. She ended up growing up to be a girl, she was at the moment.

Zigmund had a small itch to dig into her mind of her and see the reason behind her. Perhaps it was the way things are with growing kids? He only knew a few fellas from the military who had young children waiting for their return.

“I will have my own weapons. You can choose what you want too.”

“Nice. Defense or offense?”

“Spar is a made-up word for combat and exchange of moves. Why be so serious about it?”

“Then let's do a regular spar,” Zigmund said with some hesitation. Forgetting that she had no special needs like Allan.

Zigmund walked back to the middle of the backyard. Brandishing the all-so-familiar sword in his hand, he planned to be impolite and charge at her in the same way he did to Allan.

“Not holding back?” Sarey assumed. Pulling out the pair of short swords in the crisscrossed fashion, she backed away in a way to intercept Zigmund's attack. With two weapons, there could be double the chances for strikes, but much harder coordination. Small mistakes would end up being a pain in the butt.

Beng!

Zigmund's attack moved past the two blades as her quick placement of both swords around her side deflected them. Forcing his sword to stop, he pushed the blade to further into the blades, in a way to lose her balance.

Sarey could see everything that this wild fox was trying to do. Changing her step forward, she moved her feet closer and cause Zigmund's attack to fail.

He had no choice but to reset his attack.

Continuing pushing in the same way as with Allan, Zigmund pushed Sarey through the backyard.

Meanwhile, Allan was listening, as he was sitting not so far away. Observing the exchanges of attacks with his feelings. Ears, wind, steps on the ground. He was getting a clearer picture of what was happening in his mind. Sarey was using his two new blades, which surprised him a little.

Although it could be a different set from what he gave her. He thinks it was not the case, but he has no way to figure it out at this point. He only guessed it based on her sudden spark to get into spars as well. Mayhap his gift sparked an idea in her mind to start the spars again.

Clicking sounds of weapons hitting each other spread more and more. Sometimes softer, other times sharper. He couldn't tell the real moves of others. All he knew was that their clashes were brief, and in a split second, they continued, not stopping for over 3 seconds after each other.

This was a different way to see things that Allan knew about the way of combat. Even the basics of hearing the two of them fighting provided much insight into the way they moved, or how he should go about hearing things. It could help him a lot. Even this silent observation from the sidelines.

The spar went for almost 10 minutes, which ended up being very close to Allan's case.

Sarey remained standing even after their exchange. Glancing at her blades, not much different from before. She smiled at her father, who nodded in whatever he tried to tell her with his nod and sat down below a tree. He needed to relax for a bit.

“Bloody sky... What sort of progress she did? Oh, dear... she grew up like me... I swear I did not mean that.” Zigmund felt helpless in his mind.

“Maybe she got some sense after Allan? His influence is stronger than I thought...”

Glancing at his sword, he noticed a rather big chopped part on its edge. It was from one particular attack when he swung his sword in a vertical chop and Sarey defended with her crossed blades. Like scissors, they stopped his blade as he attacked.

“Those weapons... They look so thin, yet they are quite robust for their sizes. Impressive. Impressive.”

He knew they were from Alla for sure. No way he would mess this up. Zigmund couldn't help but think about that and curse for his mistake of damaging his sword.

Sarey did not believe Zigmund's approach was that weird. She walked by Allan and sit by his side.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“How do you think it went?” She asked back.

“There was no winner or loser in the spars. A practice is a practice, and you are quite stronger than I thought,” Allan answered.

Hearing that, she couldn't help but be happy inside. His word put more courage in her heart.

She was never that weak, to begin with. All things considered, she was even stronger than Allan prior to this whole mess. Experiencing more from the hands of Zigmund, she knew a whole different lot than Allan. He had Clayton who had a more laid-back nature.

“Let's continue, boy.”

It was unknown when Zigmund appeared in front of them.

“Already? Are you not tired?” He asked in concern.

“Not at all!” Zigmund barked back.

“Very well.” Pulling himself up by his shaft, he walked into the front of the courtyard.

Zigmund felt the same as before, but this time, he would try to catch him more off-guard. He will attack with no mercy and defend with what he got.

Flexing his hand, he planned to attack with his right, while defending with his left hand, which should be enough against a wooden shaft.

Yet, his sword had already stopped its travel in the air.

Allan was faster, thrusting his shaft in a straight line in his direction. It jolted the sword away, while Zigmund lost his grip.

Zigmund had no time to defend this thrust any better than with his flexed arm muscles.

“Fuck! That hurts like hell. You, brat!” He shouted with a twisted smile. Catching the tip of the pole under his armpit. He kicked Allan to his torso with his right leg.

Allan staggered but did not let go of his shaft. Instead, he forced himself to his left side and twisted himself to get his weapon free. It slid from the hold of Zigmund, who was surprised by the ease. It is the polished wood and reinforcement that caused his grip to not be as good in that position. This move looked very natural as if Allan knew exactly what to do in that situation.

Backing a few steps, Allan tried to assess Zigmund's next move.

“Wrong!” He thought.

“Why did you stop?” Zigmund's calm voice stated.

“What's the point with backing off? It would only take the advantage away. Strike! Continuous push!” Allan's resolve beamed with new vigor. Understanding a little more about how combat should be done.

He attacked once more with a quick thrust.