The tension was palpable as Caius stood a few feet away from Reynar, gripping the twin cutlasses with determination. The dark red hilts felt like an extension of his arms, pulsing with the moment's energy. The soft crash of waves and the distant cries of gulls seemed to vanish, leaving only the quiet sound of his breathing and the steady heartbeat in his chest.

Reynar, however, stood completely still, his body relaxed. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, his gaze fixed on Caius with an almost lazy amusement. There was no guard, no stance that hinted at defense. It was as if the seasoned warrior didn't consider this a fight.

"Well?" Reynar said, his voice calm but filled with challenges. "Are you going to stand there all day, or will you show me what you've got?"

Caius's heart pounded harder in his chest. The challenge had been issued, and he knew this was the moment he'd been training for all these years. The goal was simple—land one critical hit. But Caius also knew it wouldn't be as simple as it seemed.

Without wasting another moment, Caius launched himself forward with a burst of speed. The sand beneath his feet kicked up in small clouds as he closed the distance between them, his twin cutlasses slicing through the air in a graceful arc. He aimed high, hoping to catch Reynar off guard with a swift spinning attack.

Reynar didn't move until the last second. His body shifted effortlessly, stepping aside almost casually, the blades missing him by mere inches. Caius's momentum carried him forward, and he landed on his feet, spinning to face Reynar again, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

"You're too focused on landing the hit," Reynar said, his voice cool, as if they were discussing the weather. "It's making you predictable."

Gritting his teeth, Caius tightened his grip on the cutlasses and rushed in again. This time, he feinted to the left before darting to the right, aiming for Reynar's midsection. The attack was faster, sharper, but Reynar simply pivoted, moving out of the way as if he had anticipated every move before Caius had begun. The blades cut through the air where Reynar had stood just a second ago, but they met only air once again.

"Your footwork is sloppy," Reynar said, his tone almost bored. "You're too eager. Calm down. Control your movements."

Caius's frustration flared, but he quickly stifled it. He had trained for years, honing his skills under Reynar's guidance, but now, faced with the real test, he felt like a clumsy novice. Reynar wasn't just dodging—he was analyzing every move, every weakness.

Caius stepped back, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He studied Reynar to find a gap in the man's defense. But there was none. Reynar hadn't even raised his hands. The old warrior still had them tucked in his pockets, his body relaxed as though he were merely going for a walk along the shore.

"Focus, Caius," Reynar said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You're moving too fast for your own good. Speed doesn't mean anything if you don't control it."

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Caius's jaw tightened. He needed to change his approach. Without warning, he darted to the side, circling Reynar as he tried to keep his opponent guessing. His feet moved quickly, sand spraying with each step, and then, in an instant, Caius leaped into the air, aiming a downward strike with both blades at Reynar's head.

But again, Reynar moved like the wind—effortless, fluid, and unhurried. He sidestepped, and Caius's blades cut through empty space, his landing less graceful than before as his feet sank into the sand.

"You're leaving yourself open," Reynar remarked, his voice carrying a note of disappointment. "Attacking from above might give you power, but it makes you vulnerable. I've told you this before, haven't I?"

Caius gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of Reynar's words almost as much as the failure of each attack. He spun around, his feet shifting into a different stance, ready to try something new. This time, he advanced more cautiously, his movements more controlled, watching for any hint of a reaction from Reynar.

But the man gave nothing away.

Caius lashed out with a series of quick strikes, alternating between the cutlasses with precision. The blades flashed in the fading light, slicing through the air with lethal intent. Yet Reynar danced around them with an ease that bordered on infuriating. Every step was calculated, every dodge perfectly timed, as if he was always one step ahead.

"Your strikes lack weight," Reynar commented, barely moving as another slash sailed harmlessly past him. "You're not committing fully to your attacks."

Caius's frustration bubbled up again, but he channeled it into his movements this time. He lunged forward with more power, slashing low toward Reynar's legs. However, the old pirate leaped backward, his boots barely grazing the sand as he landed lightly, a smirk still on his face.

"You're rushing, Caius," Reynar said, shaking his head. "You've got the speed but are too eager to end it. That's your biggest weakness."

Caius's breathing grew heavier, and his muscles began to burn from the exertion. Sweat dripped down his brow as he stared at Reynar, who hadn't even broken a sweat. The cutlasses felt heavier in his hands, the weight of his mistakes dragging him down.

"I'm not done yet," Caius growled, pushing the exhaustion aside. He steadied his stance, eyes narrowing as he focused on Reynar's every move—or lack thereof.

Reynar raised an eyebrow for the first time as if silently acknowledging the renewed determination in Caius's eyes.

"Good," Reynar said, his tone approving. "Now, show me something real."

With a sharp exhale, Caius launched himself forward again, moving with more precision this time, his strikes faster and sharper. He spun and twisted, using every ounce of skill he had learned over the years, but Reynar was like a shadow—slipping just beyond his reach, evading every blow with the same fluid grace.

Not once did Reynar raise his hands to block. He didn't need to. His movements were so smooth, so perfectly timed, that Caius couldn't land a single hit. Every attack was met with air, every swing followed by Reynar's calm voice pointing out another flaw, another opening Caius had left exposed.

"You've got spirit, I'll give you that," Reynar said as he casually sidestepped another slash. "But spirit alone won't win you this fight."

Caius's frustration hit a peak. He knew Reynar was right—his attacks lacked the focus and discipline to overcome someone as skilled as the old pirate. But he couldn't give up. Not now. Not when he was so close.

With one last burst of energy, Caius surged forward, his blades moving in a blur as he attacked with everything he had left. But as before, Reynar flowed around the strikes like water, his body never breaking its relaxed stance, his hands still firmly in his pockets.

The fight, Caius realized, wasn't just about landing a hit. It was about learning and understanding his weaknesses, and Reynar ensured Caius learned every one of them.