Currently, the plaza was a mess. Numerous craters and cracks riddled the once fabulously decorated tiled floors. A piece of land was vaporized and the fountain was reduced to minor debris. Piles of human remains littered the place at various heights, with individual heads being a commonplace occurrence. Only fourteen of the original one hundred and fifty-two remained and those that survived unscathed with minor injuries could only be counted on one finger.

The man in front of him was not of those fourteen.

It appeared that he just entered the battle space because…

‘If a man of his power were to have been here from the very beginning, I would have reacted accordingly.’

Ferase never sensed this man’s presence until now, and he could not help but be slightly disappointed at this failure. Yet, he was surprised. He recognised this swordsman.

A mesomorph body, donned in an olive green gambeson that reached his ankles like a trench coat and parted at the centre, with his glossy light Gray Armor consisting of an angular breastplate and gorget, wide lion-moulded pauldrons inscripted with golden outlines, layered metal plates across his entire upper arm and ending with winged vambraces of a griffin and clawed gauntlets. A skirt of chainmail draped underneath his belt fastenings and he wore pants made of thick brown leather. Completing his set was a pair of lion-moulded polyenes and greaves. His boots were lined with scaled metal plates.

In his grip, he loosely placed his black gloved hands on the pommel. The entire hilt was made of one metal curved piece and was polished to a shimmering silver. An industrial handguard rested beneath, sporting a simple and sleek outline of a straight cross. As for the blade that was a length longer than his arm, it held the same brilliance as the pommel, featuring a particularly deep fuller. The man’s longsword was like a rod of silver jewellery in Ferase’s eyes.

“You’re…You’re…”

“I am glad that this face is still in remembrance of a sorcerer like yours truly.”

As such, the man removed his helmet. Another elegant design of shining metal.

“Sir Serisan…Did they send you here?”

“I came here via steamship. It took me a while to get here from my base of operations and wow…you’ve exceeded my imaginations.”

The man of late forties told him as he scanned around the premises.

“...”

Serisan appeared different to when Ferase last saw him. Now, he grew quite the beard on his squared jaw. A tone of light peach skin contrasted best with short spiky jet-black hair. Wrinkles were beginning to show under his eyes and forehead.

“You have come a long way, Sir Serisan. I can tell…”

This next battle would be the hardest.

“There’s no need for the pleasantries, Sir Edelane. Or should I say, The Intangible Guillotine.”

“...I abandoned that name decades ago. What is your objective in bringing up that past?”

“It truly was a tale of blood, one that was driven out of necessity. But…as your former assistant and trainee, I cherished those moments much more-”

Serisan frowned.

“-than those decades of waste where you slowly cripple into a disciplined slave for the Eldest.”

“Still gripped over the realization that he had no talent for swordsmanship?”

“I can’t say I deny giving that any malice.”

“My Master has already met the grave, so why not-”

“Listen, Sir Edelane.”

In a clean twirl of his sword, Serisan flourished his blade forward.

“Now that that girl’s life’s work is up in flames, that concubine is no longer of interest.”

“...”

“The Eldest was deemed a lost cause. And relations with the Arsenaults soured. The Head has lost quite a lot in the Eldest’s antics. Hence, he does not want to lose you.”

“...”

“Will you yield?”

“I decline.”

His expression was steadfast.

“...What a pity, Sir Edelane. I truly wish we can continue to battle like in the old days…under the banner of the glorious Kiefrurpez!”

“....!”

Torrents of pressure erupted from Serisan’s core, even overmatching Ferase’s very own.

“To have survived this long against a trained battalion of a mixed group of sorcerers and knights at this age, I adore you for that.”

“...Darn…”

“Makes me feel more satisfied if I can beat you at this strength! After all…WE HAVEN’T SPARRED IN DECADES!!!”

A swelling pit of joy, excitement and vexation spiralled chaotically within the core of Serisan’s spirit. And as he approached the backing wizard, his eyes glowed a deep amethyst.

‘NO!’

Ferase was worried about this stage of a knight’s journey and especially if he were to go against one in his ailing condition.

A shockwave after!

“Whooow…”

Serisan breathed.

The swordsman has entered the ‘zone’.

All that they acknowledged was their ‘world’.

A manifestation of their wills to reality.

And a direct counter to a sorcerer’s ‘omniscience’.

‘Omnipresence’

The fact that Serisan has unlocked this self-actualization; Ferase could not help but be proud of his former disciple…

.

.

.

The ground shook as Serisan blitzed forward.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Ferase sidestepped in the nick of time but his pristine blade split apart a section of his beard and left another deep cut on his right cheek.

“Excellent.”

Serisan celebrated with a stern look.

And he followed back with another thrust to Ferase’s dominant hand.

“tch!”

Immediately, Ferase took flight, avoiding the strike altogether. As he soared higher into the night, Ferase unleashed a wide scale spell, hoping to entrap Serisan amongst the others in an enormous frozen block of air.

‘With his speed, if I were to cast it individually, there would be a high chance it would miss!’

However, as Ferase was about to activate the mechanism, a blur of purple light shot right at him. Serisan had unfortunately predicted Ferase’s actions and lifted himself to higher levels. The floor cracked underneath him. Within his trajectory, Ferase failed to dodge in time and instead, was met by his longsword with a hastily made five layers of reinforced solid air. Once the thrust made contact, a chain reaction occurred and purple pulses shattered the barriers set within seconds.

“YAH!!”

And the blade grazed Ferase’s side by a significant amount. Grabbing the old wizard by the end of his tattered robe, Serisan twisted his body and using his momentum, launched the sorcerer speeding back down. Ferase gave no resistance.

Breaking the landing with some uplift, Ferase managed to slide away from the upcoming descent of Serisan’s downward slash. Clouds of dust soon settled, showing off a deep gorge on the ground in front of him.

‘Shit!’

Another blitz, another cut. This time, it was Ferase’s right thigh, but thankfully, not as severe.

“Amazing, Sir Edelane!”

The swordsman continued to shower him with praise as Ferase narrowly dodged the next few attacks; with each one resulting in a much lighter cut. Ferase was finally adapting to his rhythm.

“Hah!”

Serisan halted his current dash midway and settled for a wall of thrusts. Prepared, Ferase propelled himself away before it landed using added wind thrust. Getting close behind him, the wizard unleashed a power push of tearing gales. In haste, Serisan flipped overhead and smoothly landed behind him once more. Without breaking motion, his longsword twirled in for an extended trust to his chest. As the tip closed in, a myriad of pressurized air slashes erupted out in all directions from the sorcerer, shoving Serisan back as he refocused on obtaining solid ground. The attack never landed and in front of the stationary Ferase, his force winds accidentally tore down a block of houses.

Closing his eyes, Ferase stomped his cane onto the cracked floor. As he felt Serisan’s presence getting ever closer, Ferase heightened his mental capacity.

Reaching out with a simple, yet deadly horizontal slash for the torso, just as Serisan’s blade touched his skin, he felt that weird sensation. It was as if he was moving without a sense of distance.

A perplexing sensation.

And, time began to accelerate around him.

The signature blue crystal at the tip of Ferase’s cane crashed hard onto a transparent surface, emitting out tortuous vibrations. His armor was being bombarded by countless collisions every living moment, and soon it would be his very skin. Ferase had calculated his predicted whereabouts despite numerous countermeasures Serisan had taken. Variable speed, randomized route patterns and time intervals between such manoeuvres. He had taken all of that into account.

Serisan could see Ferase’s face turn paler by the minute and his eyes were bloodshot. He must end this quickly. To which, it humoured the swordsman. Further coating his body with this purple hue of energy, his body stepped forward, pressing against the cane.

“what…!”

Serisan broke out of the atmospheric cage and he raised his longsword once more. Purple hues rose from its hilt as it fell upon the bewildered sorcerer. In its wake, a large portion of housing was split in half.

“s-shit…”

Turning to his left side, Serisan saw the wounded wizard laying on the ground in agony. Blood gushed out in sporadic squirts. A distance before him, his left arm, cleanly sliced, laid in a pool of blood. Slowly, Serisan approached him while releasing his cracked armour. A final chat, he would say.

“I won, Sir Edelane. I injured you.”

“F-Floyd…”

His face grew disoriented.

“...!”

“Floyd…Haa…I see. Your ‘world’ is strong. Impressive, uck…”

Blood fell from his dried lips.

“I suppose this is the end. Right now, I truly wonder if I could have won in a face off against Sir Edelane in his prime.”

“Hah…I truly got rusty over the years. Ed…”

“...?”

“BUT!”

The old man balanced himself awkwardly as he got up. Still gripping firmly onto his trusted cane, he flourished it aggressively back at the swordsman. Serisan’s eyes widened.

“Let me die a true death, just like my Master.”

“...I’ll end this.”

In silence, Serisan thrust forward a blade of purple.

He missed.

The trajectory changed and he was met with the ring of flames around his neck. As expected, it only left burnt marks, barely fazing him as Serisan closed the distance. Applying his special sword styles, the first ever in this fight against his teacher, Serisan’s blades of purple surged out like a raging river filled with hostile eels.

It was a wild display of refined sword prowess.

Surprisingly, Ferase remained level-headed despite his agonizing wound. For every route the river took, howling gales swept the land, devoiding it of life. Powerful condensed air slashes parried Serisan’s every move, from the thrusts to slashes. It was as though the old sorcerer wielded a sword, rather than sorcery. Ferase’s cane remained unwavering and continued to direct blows towards the attacking knight. Soon, Serisan finally saw it.

The pinnacle of Ferase’s ‘Omniscience’. .

‘He has reached it once more.’

Arteries popped as Ferase grinned gleefully.

Upcoming sword strikes continued advancing, and each one was repelled back by a superior force. Air slashes of immeasurable heat flew in doves towards Serisan. Several hit, leaving serious lacerations across skin and armour. More and more slashes eventually glowed bright scarlet, bombarding the swordsman’s defensive stances. It was Ferase going on overdrive. This was his…

“crescent-seeking plasmic sickles…How have I missed these?”

He smirked in exasperation at the horrid nostalgia.

And Ferase continued his onslaught of those plasmic blades, pushing back the swordsman. His purple coating of ‘Omnipresence’ barely held on against its superior damage.

A forgotten attack abandoned by the Intangible Guillotine himself.

“Now, urgh! Now, that’s more like it!”

Serisan’s eyes sparkled even brighter.

Tensing his energies, Serisan pushed through. Shades of purple grew darker and he flushed bright red. Steam seeped from his exposed skin. Closer and closer, his blade was now in reach of Ferase’s cane. It was time to end this.

Flourishing his soaring longsword for a downward diagonal slash, he raised his arms, leaving an unexpected opening. A sickle broke through, striking his right eye and scattering pulses of spiritual purple.

“RAAAAHHH!”

Trading one for the other, the beloved sorcery cane of the great Ferase fractured into half. Ferase had failed to react in time and the sapphire crystal cracked upon contact. In the end, Serisan’s longsword tapped the ground in accomplishment.

Living his final moments, Ferase charged straight for Serisan’s head with a final plasmic sickle. The old sorcerer still had much fighting spirit within him.

“Come on, Floyd! Don’t stop there!”

And Ferase never had to tell him twice. Besides being the faster of the two, the swordsman also held the longer reach, whilst the sickle barely maintained any cohesive form.

Serisan lodged his silvery purple blade into Ferase’s skeletal chest.

Finally, he had truly won.

“...”

“...”

Silence immediately fell upon the arena.

Now, it was only the two of them in their world.

The duo heard it all.

The dripping of blood.

The spasm of the muscles.

Their irregular heartbeats.

Ferase smiled as his bloodied eyes grew bleak.

He was a blend of two in his final minutes, before slumping lifelessly over Serisans’s shoulder.

“It was an eye worth sacrificing…”

The wound cauterized, leaving a black scar amongst dried maroon.

“Thank you.”

.

.

.

Afterwards, the remaining fourteen knights gathered around the body as they packed it up within a special artifact, alongside his treasured cane, to be displaced back to the main House once they reached the embassy. Ignoring the damage caused or the few passers-by that snuck in for a closer look, Serisan led them out of the town square with Ferase’s body in tow. He still held his blade out in the open, dried with the remains of his teacher’s heart. He felt proud.

That’s when the group halted in their tracks.

Serisan at the front, held his hand in nonaggression.

He now sensed it. Multiple airborne targets a street away, gazing like hawks from all directions. Right in front of them, it must be their leader.

It was a man of lean stature and wore no hard armor. To Serisan, he appeared more of a wizard than a warrior, donning flowy wide sleeves and long robes of white and turquoise that fluttered in the windy darkness. His silky dark brown hair flowed graciously as he gave the foreigners a stern expression. At his hip, a layered ultramarine sash held his one-handed jian, coated with a glossy bronze finish. Interlocking both hands together, he gave Serisan a martial salute.

“Per agreement with your lord, you are free to leave with his body, and we shall address the collateral damage dealt accordingly. We take full charges for redevelopment.”

“..”

“Thus, hand over your part of the cooperation.”

The martial master held his hand out.

Even if Serisan was unable to make sense of the mysterious man’s words, he got the gist of what was going on and pulled out a bundle of sealed letters from his dimensional ring. Diplomatically, they exchanged the documents in good will.

Following the Knight’s code and the Orthodox etiquette respectively, the knight and cultivator bowed for each other’s participation and collaboration, before leaving their separate ways.

The cultivator approached the town square.

While the knight and his entourage returned to the Manustrion Principality Embassy.

Chaos has finally ended in this eventful night of ShanWei.

The City of International Commerce.