Argus was truly shocked.
His entire life he had known that he was different, and not in a good way. His spirit core was cracked, a condition which disabled the only way for humans to resonate with world spirits, disabling his spiricasting potential. It also further supposedly damaged his physique and imbalanced his body, making his right side heavier than his left.
Not only had it seriously impeded his ability to practice swordplay, it also impeded his growth, causing him to start walking at a really old age compared to other toddlers, as well as over his lifetime had forced him to overexert himself a lot of the time to stay balanced, especially when practicing footwork.
Although he never quite admitted it to himself, he was not built for this swordsmanship thing.
Yet here was Vaeltaja, someone he had only read about in history books, asking him to be his successor. It was simply unimaginable.
Argus’s blank stare clearly communicated his thoughts to Vaeltaja, who was currently sitting down, his eyes closed and his mouth in slight serious frown. Before Argus could utter a question or comment about the absurdity of the situation, Vaeltaja spoke once again.
“That is, to say, that you have to become a person worthy of my inheritance. Your current self is far too weak and fragile for even a fraction of it.”
Argus’s eyes turned sad, as he gritted his teeth and bit his lip with the understanding of his own incompetence.
To himself, although he wasn’t particularly trying to hide it, Argus muttered “of course, what use could you have for a cracked spirit hear-”
“I’ll hold you right there if I were you, boy.” Vaeltaja said, his tone indicating that he wasn’t finished. Argus caught himself as he wallowed in his self pity and yanked his body out of that hole, returning to a stable state of mind. He then relaxed his shoulders a bit as he looked up at the towering man’s eyes.
Seeing his expression change, Vaeltaja cracked an unnoticeable smile, before continuing on, his eyes still closed calm, as if he’s always calculating what’s ahead of him.
“If I were to tell you in fact do not have a cracked spirit heart, what would you say?”
‘What is this old man planning?’ Argus narrowed his eyes a tiny bit in suspicion and thought for a moment before answering the question. After a couple short seconds of contemplation, he answered consciously.
“I would thank you for your kind remark.”
Hearing this, Vaeltaja let out one of his trademark old man laughs, which were entirely out of character for such a situation, before saying “well put, young man! Not the trusting type, are we?”
Argus responded to the comment with simple silence, which spoke far louder than any words he could have said.
Vaeltaja continued with his cheerful tone, seemingly oblivious to the change of mood created by the previous comment he had made. “No need to feel down about it boy!” He kept laughing for a while, before switching his tone back to the slightly serious one it was previously, which was starting to give Argus a mild headache with all the tone switches.
“Putting jests aside however, Argus, I am not lying to you when I say you indeed don’t have a cracked spirit heart. In fact, I’ll go ahead and give you a hint, you don’t even have a spirit heart at all.”
A silence fell over the air as Argus began to swallow the bombshell dropped by the imposing figure before him. Although his mind was a bit of a jumbled mess at the moment, Argus tried his best to push aside all his feelings and think about what was happening in the situation logically.
‘Although it’s difficult to believe,’ Argus thought voicelessly, as he looked up at Vaeltaja, who was sitting in his chair, seemingly as carefree as ever, ‘this old man doesn’t have a reason to lie to me.’ Although it seemed improbable to him, just 20 minutes prior he was suffering on the brink of death by the hands of bandits, where now he was sitting comfortably on a wooden chair and speaking to a figure of legends. His day hasn’t exactly been a normal one.
Finally, after letting the quiet loom in the air for long enough, Argus broke it with an extended sigh, before saying “alright, I believe you, but if I don’t have one, what do I have?”
“Now now, don’t get hasty, let's start from the beginning.” Seeing that Argus had made up his mind, the corner of Vaeltaja’s mouth rose ever so slightly, as he looked down at the sharp eyed teen below him.
Hearing Vaeltaja’s words, Argus winced a bit, remembering the old man’s long and boring style of storytelling, but Vaeltaja reassured him, saying that he’ll get to the point with a grin on his face.
“As I hope you remember, 3000 years ago was the first historical reference of spiricasting, the term being coined by the at the time king of Varalliah. As the folk tale that has been spread by word of mouth of nobles to servants to commoners goes, on the brightest day of the year, with the sun looming high and blinding over the entire continent, the first spirit god, Volta, faced off against an ancient and mystical being. At the battle’s finale, Volta harnessed the spirits of the entire world into his final attack, which once and for all cleaved through his opponents head, body, and continued down until it created a perfect chasm which separated the entire continent into the two halves we know today. From this fracture flew out spirits which resided in the world’s innermost core, as they continued forward and settled themselves in the many habitats Artoria offers, filling the previously spirit-lacking world into one so dense in spirits they started manifesting in physical forms, known as spiribeasts.”
Argus listened with great interest to all of Vaeltaja’s words. Although he knew most of these facts from the many lessons he had with his father, who once trained under a scholar living in the border of the civic zone in a town that no longer existed, Vaeltaja spoke of these facts as if he had been there and witnessed the events himself.
Almost as if reading his mind, Vaeltaja smiled a bit and paused, before saying “that is, of course, what the tale says.” He pauses again to take a sip from a large flask that Argus hadn’t noticed appear previously, which straddles Argus ever so slightly, but his anticipation of the old man’s words overtake any other thoughts he has for now.
After letting out a satisfied sigh and placing the flask down, Vaeltaja says simply “but as you would imagine, words often have a way of twisting reality.” Vaeltaja’s face turns more serious once again, before continuing “putting trust into rumors is a dangerous job, and people often swallow up what they are fed first, and then fight tooth and nail to try to defend a hill that is crashing and burning to the ground along with them, which is why faulty tales like this are labeled ‘history.’ As I imagine you understand already, I was there, kid. With my own two eyes I saw the earth, the land below me, sliced into half with a single slash of Volta’s blade. I watched him fall into the large crevice alongside his opponent's remains. I watched the panic, the pandemonium, the rage and the anger it caused. I also saw something worse, something that no man should ever have to face or experience in their lives once, and I pray you will never become a victim to.”
Argus, his face tense, not being able to hold back asked Vaeltaja “well what is it?”
“Human greed. In abundance, humans swiftly capitalized from the bottom to the top. Merchants, monarchs, tradesmen, one and all moved with an unsettling and unstoppable movement towards selfish gain, which had come from a world without law and order. I’m afraid that even 3000 years later, that greed and corruption taint the very world you call your home. You yourself have been a victim of it, have you not? It is so ingrained within your society, you struggle to understand that this division of class is not a natural way of the world but rather a construct of the leaders themselves, that you so blindly trust.”
Vaeltaja takes another long sip from his flask, clearly calming his agitated, heated nerves.
Argus sits there in silence, as his brain is spacing out, thinking of Vaeltaja’s words. He thinks of his stupidity for silently compiling. He thinks of his mother and father, of which he will never see again because of the very system he had deemed absolute and just. He thinks of the ways that he’d been treated as a kid of a runaway, as a kid in the forbidden zone, because of his height, because of his spirit core.
It was everything but himself.
His emotions, which previously were all over the place in his mind, gathered up like a cloud in a storm, pulling together and mixing into a single point of raw emotion.
Anger.
Not a petty, impulsive anger such as rage. Not an uncontrollable, dangerous anger such as madness. It was a single dot which concentrated all his feelings about the world around him, about the life he lived, the training he had gone through, and with all of them combined he shifted and turned and molded the emotion until it became solid. A single blob that contained and compacted all that was his life until that point.
He watched this point hover in his chest, like a second heart that glowed a dark red hue, emanating a fierce yet calm aura, similar to the fountains he had seen in the old man’s garden. All his emotions, which once overwhelmed and clouded his mind, had funneled into this dot, transforming together into an emotion bigger than themselves, bigger than himself.
Determination.
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Vaeltaja could not believe what he was seeing.
He knew this kid was good, and that he had mostly inherited his sword heart talent, but he had expected his talent to be far behind his after so many years of not having a sword heart in his bloodline. ‘‘But it seems I underestimate the youth of today’’ Vaeltaja mumbled to himself, looking at Argus in his chair.
Argus was currently sitting in the same pose he was when listening to Vaeltaja ramble about the goings of the past, but a change was happening to his body. His eyes, which were previously a deep, almost black brown color, were now glowing a sapphire blue, and his physique which hid behind his baggy clothes seemed to be sharpening and defining with every passing second. His hands, which were usually quiet and unmoving, jittered around in a formulaic way, as muscle memory of his sword forms kicked in, integrated with his new found insight into the sword that sprung up from the phenomena which covered his whole body in a faint but visible glow.
At this moment, Argus was having a sword epiphany.
Although they were named that, these epiphanies were, in fact, the equivalent of the increase of rank for spiricasters. They entail a new stage in the swordsman’s life, and come with a variety of physical and mental changes, and this first one is the most important of them all. Similar to how it works for spiricasters, the first rank is the hardest one, as it requires the person to push past the natural limiters of the brain to acquire their “spirit focus” as it’s been dubbed, though realistically it's more of point of focus for all kinds of abilities that are locked to normal humans. In fact, most spiricasters don’t ever break through this first rank, and are stuck as unranked spiricasters, meaning they never have an epiphany in their lives.
That level of talent separates the common folk from the casters.
Vaeltaja chuckled to himself, as he watched the glowing light get thicker and thicker around the young man in front of him, he could not help but say,
“It seems a monster far fiercer than any spiribeast will soon descend upon Varalliah.”
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Argus’s eyes slowly opened as he awoke from his trance-like state.
He blinked a couple of times, his eyes readjusting to the now dark room around him. It seems night has fallen on the mountainous abode, and with it came an eerie silence, devoid of all but the sounds of the shrieking winds. The flowery fragrance which flowed from the outside garden helped mask the musk of musty wood, a testament to the age of the house in which he was currently residing in. A slight tingle from the humid air danced along his skin, as a single sweat flowed down his face, down his shoulder and well-defined arms, to his hands and fell off to the wooden floor.
As he was readjusting to his new heightened senses, an old woman’s voice sounded from the corner of the now dark hut.
“It seems you’re finally done.” Her voice was sharp and impatient, a stark contrast to the old man before her. “That “honored ancestor” of yours left me here to babysit you, so you can at the very least be grateful.”
Argus turned around to face the speaker, a woman seemingly around the old man’s age with long, silvery hair and a face that aged like fine wine. Despite her old age, she had a youthful complexion, so much so that Argus had to do a double take just to insure he had not misidentified the woman’s true age.
After a pause of a dozen seconds, Argus finished processing this new environment around him, his new found senses and the words of the woman, before finally saying “how long had I been out for?”
He wanted to ask what was happening, or what happened to the old man, so he kept his questions reserved, as he was still trying to first figure out himself what the meaning of his trance was. The woman, who had been silently watching him as he processed everything earlier, replied simply “7 hours.”
Hearing this, Argus was surprisingly calm. Normally, he felt as if he should be surprised or shocked at the revelation, but something inside of him was soothing and calming his emotions, enabling him to think straight. Seeing that the woman in front of him had no intention of explaining, he nodded slightly before shifting his attention back to his body.
The changes were clear as day. His muscles were more defined, his eyes felt as if not even a speck of dust could escape their sight, and in general he felt more level headed then before. What’s more, he could feel that he was able to probe deeper into himself and examine the inside of his body, and more specifically, a small red dot which sat rooted right in his solar plexus, shining in a dampened shade. He could feel that the source of his improvements came from this dot, and that it was the key to unlocking his true heart.
He was unsure where this knowledge came from, but as soon as the question was raised in his mind, a massive headache overwhelmed him, as thousands of memories erupted in his mind. Different techniques and insights into the sword, information about the world and history and its significance, and most important to him, information about his current situation.
At this very moment, he knew that he was standing on top of the Hall of Mountains, the largest natural landform on Artoria, and that the summit of it housed he god of wanderers and swordsmen, as well as the pinnacle of the sword, Vaeltaja. The phenomenon he experienced just now was known as an epiphany of the sword, or just an epiphany, which is equal to a ranking up in spiricasting. More specifically, it was the fusion of the brain with the spirit heart, or sword heart in his case, which allowed the brain to develop insight into the inner workings of its respective craft, honing the user’s abilities as a whole.
Speaking of which, his hands itched as if begging to hold a sword at this moment. After all, only with that sword in his hand could he truly begin to understand and fathom the techniques that now resided in his head. Noticing this, the old woman finally took action, as she slowly approached the back of the house, where a small chest of items could be seen hanging half-open from its hinge. From within, she pulled out a long, silvery blade, which shone bright as the sun in the poorly-lit room. Without looking, she tossed the blade across the room, as it spun neither slowly nor fast towards Argus, who stood around its center. Previously he would have had trouble catching this sword, but the rotation of it could now easily be picked up by his astute eye, and he caught the sword perfectly by its hilt.
Following the sword, the women tossed him a leather scabbard, which seemed tailor made for the sword in his hand. He quickly and expertly attached the scabbard to his waist, noticing that his previously tattered training clothes were now in pristine condition. After doing so, he gave a few test swings to his new found bladed companion, noticing that its balance and weight fit perfectly to his liking. After doing so, he sheathed the sword and contained his desire to test out his insight, as he bowed to and thanked the woman that was now leaning on the back wall, looking at him as he tested the sword. Seeing this, the woman’s sharp expression softened a bit, though she replied in a still serious tone “if there is anyone to thank here, thank the old man. Custom swords don’t come cheap nowadays!”
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Hearing this, Argus’s face cracked a slight smile for the first time after his reawakening, as he responded “was it not you who said I should show my gratitude?”
“Brat, scram to the backyard before I regret my decision to take up this task!” The woman said in response, though her demeanor was far less bored and apathetic than before, her face showing hints of amusement.
Taking the not-so-subtle hint, Argus walked through the small door at the back of the house which led to the overgrown path behind it. He took his time as he strolled through the large walls of unidentified flora, which contrasted sharply with the dull, rocky terrain he could see peaking through the rows of plants. After a short walk through the twisting and turning route, the house’s garden was displayed in front of him. The backyard itself was neither small nor big, and had a variety of beautiful and exotic flowers planted neatly along its edges, each and every one of them emanating a different and unique aura of itself. That sight alone was mesmerizing enough, however, the main attraction of the garden stood at its center.
Inside a perfectly circular clearing in the middle of the backyard stood an inhuman man. Although his looks were indistinguishable from any other, his hand hung limply downwards, his back arched and arms dropped at his sides, unmoving and lifeless. If it weren't for the man’s clear, heavy breathing, one would have mistaken him for a standing corpse, or perhaps the living dead.
As Argus saw the man, his intuition nudged its way into his head, telling him that his destination was in fact that man in the center. After a small moment of hesitation, Argus began a slow but confident stride into the center of the garden. The only carved path around all the flowers led him to stand directly face to face with the limp man, who, on closer inspection, could be heard snoring quietly, previously obstructed by the quiet whistling of the wind outside. Notably, when he walked into the small clearing, he could feel his newly acquired, sharpened senses dampening a little, as if reverting back to their state previous to his epiphany. Deciding to ignore this, Argus walked forward until he was but a single meter away from the man.
As per Argus’s intuition, or perhaps it was some external guidance, the man’s limbs started twitching slowly, and one by one his body parts were raised from their dead state in a mechanical way. The man’s bones creaked with every movement, showcasing the length of time that which he had been sitting there, as he slowly rose his face, revealing a tired and unfocused expression, similar to one that is made when first waking up, after which his mouth started moving in a strange and rapid way, as he spat out line after line of information in a blur.
Although Argus’s senses were dulled, he could clearly make out snippets such as “Argus Wayfair” or “dark red core.” The man’s rapid mumbling quickly stopped, however, as almost in an instant his tired demeanor was eliminated, even surprising Argus, as he stood up with his back straight and a bored but proper look on his face. Without skipping a beat, the man, who Argus now saw looked to be in his early 30s, said in a clear and powerful voice.
“Why is it that you are here?”
Argus’s mind was moving as fast as lightning, with many questions floating through his thoughts, combined with that swift change in attitudes catching him off guard and his dull senses. Realizing that he was overthinking, in a split second and without a second thought about it, Argus blurted out the first thing on his mind, his true desire, as if pulled through by the man’s voice.
“To stand at the top.”
The man’s face showed a slight, almost fanatical smile at the words, before simply replying with “good.” Without a second word, a short wooden stick appeared in his hand, as he gestured at Argus to come at him.
Although he felt he was being underestimated, now that he had his true sword heart, he could feel the pressure that this man was giving off, one which was so incredibly far above his level it was unfathomable to him. Still, without any fear, he unsheathed his companion from its scabbard, and using the grass-treading footwork he had mastered for so many years, rushed towards the man with the stick.
The sharp wind cut into his path, slowing him down ever so slightly and stinging his eyes, but he pushed through as he began with the first form of the star-slashing blade, which was the single sword slash he had performed the most in his life. It was a simple vertical slash, yet using his new found knowledge of the principles of the sword, it attacked swiftly at the opponents defensive weak points, while still being solid as to block a strike. It was the true balance of offense and defense.
Seeing his well aimed strike, the look of pleasant surprise could be seen on the man’s face, as he rotated the stick slightly with his wrist and deflected the swift strike slightly, which made a sharp sound as it cut the air beside the man’s waist. Undeterred by his opponent’s easy counter, Argus proceeded to the second form, an overhead slash which carried the entire body’s weight. Although it was once again a simple slash, in combination with the first form’s swiftness it was a deadly offense if mastered correctly.
This time, the man decided to simply dodge the diagonal slash, as he stepped backwards, leaving a slight afterimage behind him due to his sheer speed, before making a simple thrusting counterattack. Although the attack was straightforward, it targeted his poor momentum control, as it followed the trajectory of his sword, which was still hurtling towards the ground due to the heavy slash.
Rather than panicking or attempting to back away or sidestep, Argus used the momentum of his sword to his advantage, letting it carry his body weight down, barely letting the thrust graze the top of his hair, before continuing his barrage of hits with the fourth form of the basic swordsmanship, a horizontal slash meant for attack open weaknesses, targeting the man’s legs.
Realizing that his opponent is much faster than him, Argus realized that by combining the principles of the swift upward strike with the sharp horizontal slash, and by curving his blade to cut through the wind which was slowly him, achieve a much swifter, deadlier strike. Right as he saw the man’s feet start to move to dodge, he changed his grip slightly, causing the blade to suddenly accelerate towards the man’s midsection, rather than his open legs.
His sword traveled faster and faster, as it sliced through the air, making the sharp shrieking noise of steel. Just as Argus thought he reached his target, his blade passed through the air swiftly, as no contact was made. Before Argus could even attempt to figure out what happened, a strike to the top of his head dangled his brain around, as he felt the corners of his darkening around him. His arms collapsed, followed by his body, as he lay sprawled on the floor from that single strike, his mind starting to slip away from him. Right before his consciousness faded, Argus was berating himself. He was still too weak, he needed to get faster, to get tougher.
He needed to get stronger.
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Maja was shocked.
At this moment, he was standing above the still body of Argus Wayfair, who’s stomach heaved up and down as he laid motionless on the soft grass. Right beside him, dripping from Maja’s knees was a viscous red liquid, which originated from a small horizontal cut on his previously pristine pants, which was now painted red as small droplets fell along it.
When Vaeltaja first told him to test the kid, he didn’t expect much. A sword heart was impressive, sure, but the kid was just 15 years old, still wet behind his ears. What that old man didn’t tell him was that this kid not only has already ranked to a dark red core, and not only that…
“Just how much has this kid practiced?”
Although the techniques he used were the most basic of basic forms, each one was honed to its absolute limit, even with his small scope of insight. They were honed to such proficiency in fact, that they began to mold to his actions, as the true advantage of the star-slashing sword began to rear its head.
4000 years ago, the star slashing sword was created as the ultimate fundamental technique by a now forgotten sword teacher. His goal was simple, he wanted to create the perfect starting ground, a technique which incorporated all principles of the sword into one, so that no one thing shall be left behind and improved less than the others. Nowadays, however, with the rise of spiricasting and fancy swordsmanship, the star-slashing sword has been deemed a poor man’s technique, and thrown to places such as the forbidden zone.
“It’s truly a shame how much insight humans lack nowadays.” The voice of a cheery old man projected from behind him, nearly making him jump.
Without a second thought, Maja turned around and knelt to one knee, as he said clearly “disciple greets master!”
Vaeltaja let out an aged laughter before saying “it has been 30 years, yet you still keep formalities up? You’re making this old man look bad.” Without letting Maja respond, he walked past him and crouched down, looking at the unconscious Argus on the ground. Without turning around, he said to Maja in a more serious tone “in three years, the academy I set up in Varraliah City will be hosting their entrance exam. Train him well until then.”
“Will do, master Vaeltaja.” Argus said, placing two fingers on his heart, a sign of respect for swordsmen, failing to notice Vaeltaja slip a small coin-like object into the pocket of Argus’s training pants, an unnoticeable smile creeping on his weathered face. Without another word, he stands up and nods to Maja before walking out, leaving Maja standing there wondering how he shall train this talented youth who might shape the future before him.
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It has been almost three years since Argus first arrived at what he now knew was called the Hall of Mountains.
For this time, every single day without break, he would train from dawn to dusk with Maja, who was the current disciple of Vaeltaja as well as a candidate for the running of the next pinnacle of the sword. Although his training was boring, hard, and painful, he had learned many things, most importantly, about his sword heart.
Although a sword heart wasn’t exactly a spirit heart, the two were not too different. In fact, the sword heart served the same function as a spirit heart, which was to store the source of power for their respective users. How it differed was what it stored however. The sword heart functioned as a hub of skills, meaning that they were a collection of powerful but taxing abilities that would be trained over time, as the sword improved. These skills were developed by the individual, and could not be taught, as they would take form following the swordsmanship of the person wielding them. Furthermore, as the techniques and heart ranks of the user continue to evolve, the skills evolve with them, causing spirit heart users to be extremely varied in their techniques.
As per the recommendation of Maja, Argus has developed only one single skill so far, and has worked on improving it for these 3 years, that being a combination of the principles of the star-slashing sword’s first and second forms, which imitated his style of combat when they had first sparred. The skill was a simple combination of speed and strength, as the first movement created an opening with a swift upwards strike. While the second was launched immediately from the top, attempting a fatal blow. Simple, but extremely deadly, similar to Argus’s very own swordsmanship.
Aside from this skill, one other thing was the main focus of Argus’s studies, that being developing his own branch of the star-slashing sword. After mastering the technique, he did not stop working on it, but instead continued to develop the swordsmanship further and further, eventually making it bloom into his own unique swordsmanship, he simply dubbed the universal sword, a technique which focused on maximizing the efficiency of each strike, as it lacked any amount of style or elegance. To Argus, this style was best, as he has never cared for these aspects.
After finishing his morning run around the mountain he immediately walked to the fountain of calmness, where he sat down and meditated while stimulating his sword heart, as he had been told to do by Maja. Although he didn’t fully understand its benefits, by doing so, he felt his exhaustion wipe away much faster, as well as his heart grow ever so slightly stronger with each passing second.
After thirty minutes of circulation, he got up to go to the training grounds, only to be stopped by Maja in his path. By now, Maja had dropped his unclean facade and wore a proper swordsman’s robe, which was titled with the simple but powerful word “spirit” on its back. He looked like a true sword instructor now.
Finding this strange, Argus asked Maja about the change in routine. Rather than answering, Maja turned around and directed him to the backyard of the wooden house he now called home, the place where the two first had their spar. Understanding his intentions, as his heart began pounding from the excitement before battle, Argus followed Maja, keeping with his slow and methodical pace.
As they were walking through the large flora which rustled with the mountaintop winds, Maja finally decided to speak up. “3 years ago, you came to this mountain a dead man. A man who had seen despair, whose family had been taken away from him, a man with the look of nothing left to lose.” Maja rounded the corner to reveal the garden, identical to how it was 3 years ago, a row of plants surrounding a large clearance in the middle. It was so identical, in fact, that he could still see the remnants of their clash in the surrounding, looking at the faint sword spirits that circled around the sharp cuts in the soil and air.
Maja continued, “now, you face me not as a desperate man, but as a disciple, and so as your master,” Maja landed confidently in the middle of the clearing, pulling out a long steel sword from his waist, before finishing his sentence, “I urge you to show me the fruits of your labor.”
A large smile involuntarily crept onto Argus’s face, as he unsheathed his sword and held it in the neutral stance of the universal sword. Although his stance was nearly identical to the one he had all those years ago, the aura his sword had alone was so oppressive that a normal person would be unable to bear it. Argus let his practiced killing intent flow, as he aimed it all at the man who had helped him grow and develop for the past 3 years of his life. He knew that without the full intent to kill, he would be unable to even hit his master’s shadow.
Of course, he knew that his master was handicapping his own sword heart rank to dark red as well, else this battle would be more of a massacre then a spar, but he didn’t care.
He was here to win.
“If you’re not going to attack,” Maja said suddenly, readying an offensive stance, “then don’t blame your master for not holding back!” Maja suddenly launched forward with blazing speed, as he used the most basic of movement footworks, the grass-treading footwork, the one Argus had put in so much time into mastering. In response, Argus launched himself as well, intending to meet his opponent in the center. Although his overall prowess was inferior to Maja’s, his mastery of the footwork far surpassed his, and so secretly, alongside his universal sword, he had been developing his own versions of the basic footworks he had learned. He nicknamed this one the forest-grazing footwork, as it functioned as a more improved and diverse version of the basic grass-treading footwork.
As they were about to collide, Argus suddenly switched his momentum, revealing the strength of his personal footwork. Just barely wrapping around Maja’s sharp diagonal swing, Argus then converted this stored momentum to his left leg only, making his step unnatural and hard to follow, as he blasted past and around Maja, using the first form of the universal sword, which followed the same principles as the star-slashing sword, a simple upwards slash.
Without breaking a sweat, Maja used the inertia of his sword to carry his strike around, as he executed one of his many skills that Argus has come to know of, quickly switching the direction of his swing and parrying Argus’s strike perfectly.
Unfazed, Argus swapped to the improved third form of the universal sword, which now utilized the principle of fluidity combined with sharpness to create a perfectly straight horizontal slash. His blade began flowing like a calm river tide as it sliced towards Maja’s midsection, moving at neither a fast nor slow pace, but carrying with it a terrifying amount of killing intent.
Maja moved to execute the same skill to parry it, only to be forced to take 3 steps back as the sharp blow smacked his unprepared parry. Jumping back in surprise, a smile crept on his face similar to the one Argus had been wearing this entire time. Seeing this smile, Argus knew his master was finally going to get serious, but he didn’t intend to let up. Using the second step of the forest-grazing footwork, which focused on silent and frictionless movement as his quick movement left afterimages behind him.
Winding up his sword behind him and using the momentum of his footwork, he finally executed his only skill in combat. In an instant, like a pincering claw, two separate images of Argus appeared. One delivered an upward strike faster than the human eye can register, and the second was a powerful and heavy downward strike, which contained the might of a mountain itself.
Argus felt his sword heart, which was dormant this entire fight, spur as the sword spirits it contained within it flowed through his arms, allowing this seemingly impossible action. Although Maja had seen this move countless of times beforehand, he was still caught off guard by the sheer sword intent that was emanating from the skill, an amount not possible of a person did not perfect the technique extensively.
Having no other choice, Maja finally used some of his own sword intent, as the sharp rays of force clanked with Argus’s, causing small explosions in the air. Shifting the angle of his sword slightly, Maja’s sword suddenly accelerated humanely, as Argus’s upward strike was deflected away by the sheer force of weight of the sword. Then, with the same motion, Maja drew a half-crescent with his sword, deflecting the heaviness of the downwards strike to the side, before sending a swift kick into Argus’s exposed midsection, sending him flying back into the grass.
Argus felt his rib cage throbbing in pain, as he gritted his teeth and slowly got up from the ground, spitting out some blood and refocusing his vision. Although he knew his master was strong, he still felt a bit powerless at the ease he showcased at stopping his strike.
Argus quickly shook his head, tossing away the useless thoughts and refocusing them into a single want, a single goal.
He wanted to get stronger.
With every interaction, every strike, every second, he wanted to improve, until he could stand face to face with his master at the same level, and challenge him as both a mentor and an equal. “And for that to happen,” Argus mumbled to himself, “I have to first get through to him here!”
Adjusting his mindset, he quickly launched towards Maja again, who sat still as he waited for Argus’s next approach. This time, he moved in an unpredictable zigzag pattern, which seemed odd to Maja as it didn’t help him move any faster, and there wasn’t anything to dodge.
Just as Argus reached Maja, he executed his skill again, as two copies of himself seemingly appeared, each one doing its own action. “Predictable!” Maja’s smile turned to a slight smirk as he brought down his swift sword on top of Argus’s upward strike, intending to parry it away before dealing with the slower downwards strike.
At that moment, Maja felt a large amount of sword intent rapidly approaching from above. Immediately, his honed reflexes reacted as he leaped backwards, with the wave of swift sword intent grazing past his side, making a shallow gash in his clothing and through to his chest. Standing there was Argus, who held up his sword in the neutral stance of the universal sword once again, panting heavily from exhaustion.
Seeing this, it finally hit Maja what had happened. After exchanging blows with Argus for so long he had gotten used to the upwards strike and downwards finish of the skill, he hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that the two spirit energies could switch, resulting in a swift downwards strike and an oppressive upwards strike.
“This kid…” Maja stared at Argus, who had a determined yet exhilarated look on his face, as the blood which ran down his side started dripping on the soft grass. The look of pride could be seen on Maja’s face, as he looked straight towards his student who could barely touch his shadow just three years ago. It had to be said that Argus’s talent was truly monstrous.
Lowering his sword and sheathing it, Maja began slowly walking towards the tired Argus. Realizing that the battle is over, Argus finally calmed down his nerves, as the adrenaline which held up his aching muscles slowly started to fade. Immediately, he felt his legs give out under him, as he collapsed into the soft grass, closing his eyes and letting his mind slowly drift into unconsciousness.
The words of his mentor of three years were the last thing that echoed through his ears.
“Good job.”