“Okay! Three rounds. No Aspect abilities. Go," Cael announced with the clap of his hands, like some foolish king upon his royal seat forged from mats.

Zerin readied himself for the match. Under these rules, he would have a chance against Dex. Everything about Dex was unique, to the point that he even held an innate ability. Before Dex, innate abilities were believed to be held by those of a Divine Aspect. But Dex was different, having an aspect that was of Ascended rank, which was four whole ranks below that of Divine. To even top it off, his innate ability was completely unknown, offering prerequisites to unravel the runes from obscurity.

But what was even more intriguing was how the spell seemed to inappropriately document his rank as Ascended when his Aspect ability, [Friction Control], was expected to be an ability of higher rank according to the researchers gathered around the facility, putting him at around Transcendent minimum according to their collective calculations. His Aspect ability granted him the ability to manipulate the forces of friction on his body, allowing him to do a wide range of things that would be otherwise impossible for an awakened of that rank. But he wasn’t entirely without weaknesses; he had limited control, and the vast strain his ability put on his body was crippling with prolonged use.

The fact that he held no flaw baffled the researchers further, permitting them to allow him to stay in the facility. In return he was paid, as he was seen as a highly valued asset for research.

On the other hand, Zerin’s Aspect was Divine and had nothing to show for it. His innate ability, [Blood Fee], only proved itself to be a flaw. Every time he summoned a memory, it required his blood as payment, which was foreign and fascinating to the researchers, but it remained what it was—a flaw. His Aspect ability, [Sanguine Surge], was hardly an Aspect ability; it was more akin to an innate ability, as he needed to consume blood to even gain access to its benefits.

Although he was mostly open about everything concerning his Aspect, there were things he kept to himself, such as the additional set of runes he received upon his evaluation of the First Nightmare, which were:

Blood Shards: 1/7

Veinborne: —

But he also had a memory that he never dared to show once he saw its rank. The [Cursed Seed of the Goddess] was a Divine-tier I memory. As incredible as it sounded, it held zero significance—at least for combat. It was displayed as a tool memory, but it seemed to serve only as an item of remembrance. Its description read:

"An indestructible seed that will never part from you."

Usually, he would have told Jerika everything, but he just couldn’t with this, even though he knew her heart was in the right place.

“Zerin, wake up!” Cael snapped, his voice shaking him from his momentary daze.

“You need to mimic my style more closely. The way you fight can’t even be considered a style with how chaotic and jumbled it is! Completely uncoordinated and reckless. If you don’t get it together, Dex will completely obliterate you in this spar.”

He spoke, allowing no argument at all, as if everything he said could never be questioned.

Turning his attention to Dex, Cael continued,

“And you, you need to spice it up a little. Your fight pattern hasn’t evolved at all. Zerin has watched you execute the same move so many times, he could predict your every step!”

Cael paused, then spoke. “Adapt, analyze your opponent, and be elusive. Your goal is to sustain the fewest injuries as possible in the Dream World.”

“Are you done? I thought you wanted us to fight,” Dex slumped his shoulders in boredom.

“Hold on just a moment…”

Cael replied, settling back against the fortress of mats he had arranged around him, propping his feet up.

Dramatically, he raised his hands above his head. “Alright, 3… 2… 1… GO!” With a sharp clap of his hands, he signaled the start of the match.

Dex flinched slightly at the sudden countdown.

“Give us a proper countdown next time!” Dex barked, just narrowly raising his sword to deflect Zerin’s swift slash.

Thwack!

The clash of their wooden swords echoed.

“Hey! I was still talking, you damn snake!” Dex shouted, a smile on his face.

Dex launched into a counterattack, his blade arcing through the air toward Zerin, aiming for his head.

‘Yes, with this I can manage.’

He had spent several hours watching Cael and Dex fight, so he knew how he could combat Dex’s style. But Zerin’s movements were struggling; even though he analyzed Cael’s movements and tried to replicate his style, it wasn’t that simple. Cael’s fighting style was elusive, yet confrontational; it was characterized by fluid movements that required tremendous agility—qualities Zerin didn’t embody.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Zerin ducked immediately. Narrowly, but successfully, he avoided the wooden blade that sliced through the air just above his head.

Feeling the wind rush over his head, Zerin lunged to the side, with an inward slash aimed at Dex’s side. Yet, as he shifted his weight onto his other leg, he lacked the fluidity needed; his legs felt like bricks. The momentum he needed was gone.

Zerin saw it unfold before his eyes; the very thing Cael told him before—not to expect your enemies to fight the same way—came back to him and hit him on the head.

Dex dropped low, smoothly evading Zerin’s slash. The swift movement that Dex executed proved that Zerin was still outclassed, even with the absence of their Aspects.

Zerin’s heart raced, as he had already fully committed to the swing, and there was no stopping it now.

Swoosh!

Dex swept Zerin’s leg out from under him.

His whole world flipped upside down, literally, as he hit the ground with a thud. Opening his eyes, Zerin was glaring at the ceiling.

Zerin had lost the first round.

‘Damn it!’

Laying in defeat was an embarrassment; he would rather just not fight at all.

Dex came into view, leaning over him slightly with that devilish smirk, then offered a hand.

Reluctantly, Zerin took his hand and stood up.

Cael’s applause erupted, his hands coming together in a flurry as he leaned forward from his makeshift throne, pleasantly entertained.

“Bravo! Bravo! Victoire fantastique!”

He stopped his applause. “Didn’t think you had it in you to switch it up, young buck!”

“It was easy; I don’t need your praise,” Dex pointed his sword at the Master.

“WHAT?!” Cael shouted in disbelief at his pupil's words.

“I will be the first sleeper to take down a Master…” Dex said, adding another layer upon his previous words.

Cael rose from his lousy throne, “You must really want me to kick your ass—!”

Zerin finished dusting himself off, finally shaking the feeling of defeat away. “Again…”

Cael’s bravado paled, abruptly pausing after Zerin’s interruption. Clearing his throat, the Master summoned his instructor persona.

“Alright then… It’s about time you beat some sense into him, Zerin, my new favorite pupil!”

“Yeah? Well screw you!” Dex shouted at the Master.

Cael only smiled back, loving that he was getting under Dex’s skin.

Zerin straightened his stance, the feeling of defeat now completely behind him.

‘Why do they always manage to bring me in the middle of this?’

Cael’s announcer voice reemerged, “Is each contestant ready for round two?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, and then I will fight you, with no Aspect abilities, and I will win!” Dex said with a smile on his face as he readied his stance.

“You son of a—!” The childish Master took a moment to exhale, relax, and then motioned with his arm.

“Begin when you are ready.”

The second clash began with a thundering explosion of their swords.

This time, Zerin had it thought out. He realized that attempting to mimic Cael’s elusive fighting style was a losing battle. Instead, he focused on what he could manage. As the swords met, Zerin adjusted his stance; his primary objective was to avoid getting hit.

Dex followed through the clash with a swift upward strike towards Zerin.

Zerin yanked his head back, allowing the wooden blade to glide through the air.

He just needed one moment.

As the battle continued, Zerin evaded the barrage of kicks and slashes that proceeded. Each move felt like he was dancing on the edge, but Zerin’s focus was sharply on Dex, waiting.

When Dex overextended himself during an aggressive lunge, Zerin wove his body in an attack.

He stabbed his sword forward in the air, towards his opponent's chest.

Dex reacted with shocking quickness; with a flick of his wrist, his blade whizzed by just in time to divert Zerin’s strike as he stepped back.

While he managed to deflect the blow, he carelessly took a step back without properly distributing his weight, causing him to fall to one knee.

Zerin was there for the opportunity as he swiftly capitalized on his imbalance. With all the power he could muster, he lunged forward, thrusting his sword.

A whisper away from glory, Zerin's sword was a millimeter from Dex’s throat.

This was his victory.

Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, Dex, had his sword raised upward, pointed directly at Zerin’s neck as well.

With both fighters having their blades simultaneously positioned for the killing blow, there was only one outcome of such a match.

It was a draw.

Cael, obviously unhappy about the outcome, exploded, throwing his hands in the air.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“A draw? Are you serious?”

With a heavy sigh, he dragged his palms down his face, his expression appearing like a ghoul as he complained.

“Damn it, Zerin! You almost had it; you really need to improve at dodging!”

Zerin nodded quickly, but Dex didn’t pay respect to his critique; instead, a massive grin shone on his face before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Is that why you’ve got that massive scar on your face?” His voice questioned, swiftly morphing to a condescending tone. “Because you are sooo good at dodging?”

Cael’s eyes lit up with anger.

“You damn brat! You know nothing about this scar!” He thrust his finger pointing at Dex from his pathetic throne.

“A pretty woman gave me this scar! What do you know about pretty women, huh? They all run away from you!”

“They do not!” Dex yelled back.

Zerin exhaled, tossing his sword aside while listening to their arguments before a voice rose above their bickering.

“Boys, boys! Relax…”

Cael and Dex both turned to the source of the voice, which was Jerika’s; she stood leaning on the stacked bleachers in the dojo, a smug grin on her face.

“Why is she here?” Dex folded his arms as he looked at her.

Cael perched atop his throne, looking down at Jerika as if she were stealing a piece of his great presence.

“Why are you rudely interrupting our training? You wouldn’t like it if I interrupted your lessons!”

Jerika stood with her hand placed on her hip, her other hand swatting the air dismissively. 'Training? What for? King’s Court?

“You couldn’t possibly call this training…” She added her face contorting to a mocking pout.

“We are training! If you can’t see that, then—!”

Zerin walked calmly past Cael's line of sight and ventured towards Jerika.

“Hey! Where are you going? Aren’t you going to beat some sense into this brat?”

“No, I think I am fine for now. Thanks for the training, though…” Zerin said as he continued walking towards Jerika.

“Looks like I win one of them! Dex, are you coming too?”

“With you?” Dex narrowed his eyes. “Like hell… I don’t need any more boring—”

“Ha! Point for me!” Cael yelled out as he pointed at her from atop his pitiful throne.

“How childish are you?” Jerika furrowed her brow as she tilted her head, looking up at Cael.

“I am the least childish! I am a true fighter!” Cael stated.

“Saying that from your little fortress doesn’t seem to be helping you out too much, does it?” She puckered her lips slightly to whine, taunting him.

“You know what? I don’t care! Go ahead and read your books. I’ll go take Dex out somewhere nice, and we will do guy things!”

“Good for you…” Jerika said with false encouragement, turning towards Zerin, who was standing quietly beside her, observing their verbal sparring match, with a faint sign of amusement.

“So quiet… No 'hi' or 'hello'?” Her eyebrow arched slightly at him.

“Hi…” He said plainly. “Do you have anything for me?”

“Have anything for you? Oh! You mean the research? You read through all that already?” Jerika asked, surprised.

Zerin shook his head.

“Well… I don’t have anything for you now, but I’ll see what I can do. But maybe you should go over what I already gave you; it took a lot of effort to gather months of notes together…”

"Okay," his voice held mild disappointment, but he knew she was right; he already had enough to sift through.

"But I came to bother you today so we can go see the witch and try to recover more of your memories. I know you've regained some of them over the past month, but it wouldn't hurt to see what else you can uncover." She insisted.

Zerin, over the past months, has gotten some of his memories back. The memories he received were called “Procedural memories,” which are memories formed from repetitive tasks, such as brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, or even riding a bike. And within these memories, he has been able to draw out certain things, such as faces of people he doesn’t remember the names of, or even the familiarity of locations he has been to but couldn’t quite place a finger on.

She ran a gentle hand through his tousled black hair, shifting the strands with a light touch.

“You are all sweaty,” she said, lifting her hand after feeling the dampness of his hair. Her shined from a face of mock disgust to a warm smile.

"How about this? You go take a shower to freshen up a bit, and I'll wash my hands. Then we can head out to the witch together?" She patted his back.

Zerin agreed; though he wasn’t really a social person, he could never find it in him to turn down the offer to go out to the city.