The lights revealed a breathtaking sight before him. In the center of the summit was a circular arena, bathed in an otherworldly blue glow. The ground was covered in fine white sand, contrasting sharply with the dark rock formations that surrounded it. Tall, intricate pillars, carved with elven designs, encircled the arena, casting elongated shadows in the ethereal light.
At the heart of the arena, two figures engaged in a mesmerizing display of swordsmanship. Their movements were a dance of precision and grace, as they parried, thrust, and dodged with almost supernatural speed. Each strike sent sparks flying, creating a dazzling display of blue and silver.
The initiates were no longer practicing; they were witnessing a true masterclass. A male elf was one of the combatants, his every move a testament to his skill. His opponent was a human male, with spiky blue hair, moving in perfect harmony with his opponent. Their swords clashed like lightning, leaving trails of blue energy in their wake.
Talax was awestruck by the spectacle, his exhaustion forgotten as he watched the duel unfold. He could feel the mana in the air crackling with intensity, as if the very atmosphere was charged with their expertise. The sound of their blades colliding echoed like a symphony of war, a melody of power and precision.
Talax remained utterly transfixed, his eyes locked on the captivating duel between the male elf and the blue-haired human. The ethereal lights coming from their swords and the thick mist that surrounded them lent an otherworldly aura to the spectacle. Around him, other spectators, initiates if their grey robes were any indication, watched with the same admiration and awe, their eyes fixed on the mesmerizing display of grace and expertise.
The elf's movements were fluid and effortless, as if he had been dancing this dance of combat for centuries. His bald head glinted in the ethereal light, and his eyes shone with the calm confidence of a master. He parried the human man's strikes with a disinterested ease, his own sword maintaining its radiant glow, while the man’s sword blinked out as if a switch had been pushed.
The human, despite being winded and drenched in sweat, showed no signs of surrender. His face contorted in a stubborn grimace as he pressed on, determined to prove himself against this formidable opponent. In a burst of determination, he landed a couple of solid hits, causing his sword to regain its luminance. The duel between the two combatants was a whirlwind of strikes and parries, so fast and intricate that it was almost impossible to track their movements.
Talax watched with a mixture of admiration and longing. He knew that he was witnessing a level of mastery he could only dream of achieving someday. The skills on display were a stark reminder of how behind he was compared to the other initiates.
Talax remained fixated on the male elf, his admiration growing with each passing moment. The elf's appearance didn't suggest advanced age; he appeared to be no more than thirty. However, when Talax studied the man's eyes, a perplexing sensation washed over him. Those gray, almost white eyes held a depth of experience and an antiquity that seemed at odds with his youthful appearance. There was an ancient wisdom lurking behind the façade of youth, a mysterious enigma that piqued Talax's curiosity.
The duel continued, and Talax's attention was divided between the captivating battle and his own thoughts. He couldn't shake the strange feeling that the elf concealed an ageless secret, something beyond his comprehension.
Suddenly, Talax felt a surge of emotion, but it didn't originate from within himself. It was Aria, his constant companion and the spirit of the high priestess, who was emanating a wave of uncertainty and anxiety. Concerned, he reached out to her. "Aria?" he inquired, his mental voice filled with worry.
There was a moment of silence before Aria's voice resonated in his mind. "I am sorry," she responded, her tone hesitant. "I thought I felt something, but I guess I was mistaken."
Talax's concern lingered, but the intensity of Aria's emotions began to wane, and he decided to focus on the battle once more.
The climax of the duel approached with a brilliant flash of the elf's sword. It marked the beginning of the end for the blue-haired man. The elf's blade descended with astonishing speed, and the man barely had time to react. The sword struck the man's left shoulder with a sickening crunch, causing Talax to grimace. Surprisingly, there was no blood or severe wound in sight. Nevertheless, the man appeared in great pain, stumbling backward.
In a surprising turn of events, the man let his sword fall to the ground and raised his hands, palms open wide. Talax observed the veins on the man's hands stand out, resembling metal rather than flesh. In an instant, twin vortexes of mana formed before his palms, quickly transforming into liquid silver metal.
The male elf's eyes widened momentarily, but he seemed unperturbed. With the swiftness of the wind, he shifted from standing before the blue-haired man to appearing behind him. In a matter of seconds, the flat of his sword struck three times, first behind the man's knees, then at the small of his back, and finally at the back of his head. The man continued to cast his spell for a brief moment, as if unfazed, before ultimately toppling face-first onto the ground below.
Talax watched the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and bewilderment, his mind racing to comprehend the incredible display of skill and magic before him.
As the final clash between the elf and the blue-haired man came to an end, the onlookers erupted in applause and cheers, impressed by the remarkable battle they had witnessed. However, the victor seemed unfazed by the admiration showered upon him. He calmly retrieved a blue robe from a nearby stand, and Talax's eyes widened with recognition. It was clear that the victorious elf was the trainer of the advanced class, master Lorindor, whose skills and expertise he had heard even before he had stepped foot to the monasteries.
With newfound understanding and admiration, Talax realized why Elara had spoken of master Lorindor with such reverence. Witnessing the elf's exceptional prowess in person, he couldn't help but understand what a privilege it would be to have a trainer of such caliber.
Master Lorindor didn't turn around to address the crowd; instead, he kept his gaze on the blue-haired man who had been defeated. In a stern and almost angry tone, he reminded him of their agreement. "Our agreement was no use of magic!" His words carried a weight that silenced the excited conversations among the initiates, making them stand frozen, fearing the man’s wrath.
The blue-haired man, still on the ground, dusted off his clothes and offered an apology in a subdued tone, although it carried a hint of defiance. "I am sorry, master. I don't know what came over me."
At those words, master Lorindor's face, serene as a sculpture a moment ago, transformed with anger. His beautiful features were now etched with an unmistakable rage. He turned to face the blue-haired man directly, his voice dripping with authority. "I don't tolerate pupils who defy my orders," he declared sternly. "The next time you choose to ignore me, you are out of my class. Your pedigree and ancestors won't save you from that fate!"
The blue-haired man's face reddened, displaying a mix of anger and embarrassment. He bowed low, offering a muttered apology as he accepted the harsh words.
Talax found himself caught in the harsh gaze of master Lorindor, who had abruptly turned to face him. The elf's frown deepened, and his piercing gaze seemed to bore into Talax's soul. The entire class of initiates turned their attention towards him, their expressions marked by confusion and curiosity. Talax wished for a moment that the ground would open up and swallow him whole, but there was no escaping the elf's scrutiny.
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When master Lorindor finally spoke, his voice held the same sternness that had just chastised the blue-haired man. "Who are you?" he demanded to know, his piercing eyes never leaving Talax.
Caught off guard by the unexpected attention, Talax stammered for a moment before finding his voice. "I am a new initiate," he managed to utter, though his voice still held a hint of nervousness.
The elf's frown only seemed to deepen, and Talax hurriedly continued, hoping to explain himself further. "I was told this is the advanced class for the swordsmanship skill, and... I wanted to see what all these flashing lights were about." His explanation was met with a few chuckles from the surrounding initiates, and even the blue-haired man couldn't help but scoff, though he quickly lowered his eyes under the stern gaze of his trainer.
Master Lorindor's expression remained unforgiving as he chastised Talax, his words cutting like a blade. "This isn't some frivolous entertainment for you, boy! If you have time for aimless wandering, then you're clearly not committed to your training!"
Talax attempted to speak up, eager to clarify his intentions, but the trainer continued, not allowing him the chance to explain himself. "And before you even consider it, no! You won't be joining my class. I teach a rare subskill for which you are not eligible! Now, be gone!"
Feeling a mixture of embarrassment, frustration, and disappointment, Talax nodded reluctantly and turned to leave. The laughter and whispered comments of the other initiates followed him as he retreated from the advanced class of swordsmanship.
He walked away; his thoughts consumed by the battle he had just witnessed. He couldn't help but express his excitement to Aria, hoping to share his enthusiasm with the spirit of the high priestess. "The battle was awesome, right?" he asked her.
Aria responded, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty and something else that Talax couldn't quite decipher. "Indeed, those two were exceptionally skilled fighters, especially the trainer. He almost looked like a cat playing with his prey."
As Talax contemplated the battle further, he began to realize that the fight had been rather one-sided. Master Lorindor had clearly held the upper hand throughout, and his intention had seemed to be more about giving his opponent an opportunity to hone his skills rather than defeating him outright. The other man, while skilled, had not posed a serious threat to the trainer.
Lost in thought, Talax continued walking, the thick mist enveloping him. Unbeknownst to him, he approached the edge of a cliff, deceived by the mist into thinking he was on a trail. Aria's sudden screech in his mind snapped him out of his thoughts, and he stumbled back just in time to avoid stepping off the precipice.
With a sense of panic, he surveyed his surroundings. He had reached the edge of a cliff without realizing it, and now he was stranded in the darkness of night, with the thick mist obscuring his vision. Aria's stern words echoed in his mind, "For Ha'arun's shake Talax, to die because of not paying attention is not a fate either of us deserve!"
Talax sighed and nodded to himself. "You're right," he muttered to Aria, then scanned the area around him. “Although, I thought you couldn’t die, you will just rest comfortably inside your medallion.” Aria huffed before responding. “Right, because it would be such a fulfilling existence, to rest with your corpse for centuries. No, thank you. So, watch where you are going moron!” Talax chuckled and looked around. With no clear path in sight and the night shrouded in mist, he was faced with a daunting choice, trying to retrace his steps or finding a different way through the maze-like monasteries.
Thankfully he heard the sounds of animated conversation, and he quickly followed the distant sounds. Before too long he approached a group of people walking in the mist-shrouded distance. Their outlines were barely discernible through the thick haze. He was about to call out to them to wait when a voice from behind sent a chill down his spine.
"What are you still doing here?" The voice was stern, and Talax turned to find himself face to face with the elf trainer, Master Lorindor.
Caught off guard, Talax stammered in response, "Um...” He started and when the elf's expression turned angry Talax raised his hands in surrender. “Before you start yelling again, I got lost! I only arrived here yesterday, and I haven't learned my way around this confusing place yet."
Master Lorindor's anger seemed to subside as he studied Talax for a moment, his mouth closing with an audible click. Finally, he said, "Fine, then follow me."
Without waiting for a reply, the elf trainer began to walk, his hands clasped behind his back. Talax hurriedly followed him, feeling an odd sense of connection with the enigmatic man. He couldn't explain it, but he had a strong desire to earn the elf's favor.
Realizing he needed to break the ice, Talax spoke up. "I am not going to shower you with compliments, I am pretty sure you know how awesome you are." He thought he saw a faint ghost of a smile on Lorindor's face, which encouraged him to continue. "I'm just curious about the subskill you teach. The man turned to him, his face having a sour expression and Talax went ahead and tried to reassure him, "don't worry, I am not trying to persuade you to teach me. I saw the fight, I know I have a long, long way to even dream of matching you in battle."
Lorindor, his expression somewhat pacified, raised an eyebrow and looked at him up and down, as if appraising him with new eyes. "Well," he said with a hint of begrudging acceptance, "I suppose there's no harm in telling you a little about my teachings."
Without prompting, Master Lorindor began to share his knowledge. "The subskill is known as Ethereal Blade Art, for it is truly an art form. With each successful strike, your base attack power increases. But..." He fixed his piercing gaze on Talax and continued, "a single missed strike, be it from your opponent's block, evasion, or any other reason, and you must start over from the beginning. All your progress will be lost." Talax whistled in admiration, realizing the incredible potential and challenge of the subskill. To fully utilize its power, one needed to be a master swordsman.
"Of course," the elf continued, "there are limitations, but as you advance in mastering the subskill, those limitations gradually diminish until they are hardly a hindrance at all." Talax nodded in understanding, "Now I understand why everyone talks about you." A chuckle escaped his lips, and the elf joined in.
"I must confess," Master Lorindor admitted, "it took me many years to truly master the subskill. You see, exceptional control over your mana is a prerequisite to harness its power effectively. I spent years honing my mana manipulation skill before even embarking on the path of Ethereal Blade Art." Talax listened attentively, realizing the depth of dedication and effort required.
As they descended toward another familiar summit, he couldn't help but reflect on the recent duel. "Your opponent was quite remarkable," Talax remarked. "He managed to hold his ground, well... at least as long as you allowed him to." He chuckled, acknowledging the elf's mastery in the art of combat.
Master Lorindor acknowledged with a nod. "Calix is truly exceptional. He hails from a lineage graced with unique talents, which has allowed him to excel in various skills. The Gods have favored him, gifting him with rapid mastery as a warrior. Unfortunately, this blessing has also sown seeds of arrogance and impatience in him. Nevertheless, he possesses a good heart."
Talax grappled with his emotions as he absorbed this revelation. Learning about someone else blessed by the Gods, with the ability to effortlessly master skills akin to his own, stirred within him a complex mix of feelings. Was it envy? Was it a sense of competitiveness? He couldn't quite put a name to it. What he did know was that Aria's earlier words, assuring him that he wasn't alone in his unique talents, had proven to be true. He had finally met someone who shared his gift, he felt a strange connection.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and he glanced at the elf trainer beside him. To his surprise, Lorindor's voice carried a gentleness that offered comfort. "What's troubling you?" he asked, genuine concern in his tone.
Talax hesitated for a moment, but again for some unknown reason he felt comfortable next to the man, and he decided to confide in the elf. "I'm not entirely sure," he began. "This experience of coming here has been eye-opening. Until now, I was content with my progress in mastering various skills. But witnessing the abilities of so many accomplished individuals here... it's left me feeling somewhat...” He felt embarrassed for admitting it, but he uttered the word “...inadequate."
Master Lorindor listened thoughtfully as Talax expressed his feelings. He placed a hand on Talax's shoulder in a reassuring manner and spoke with empathy, "It's not uncommon to feel that way when you're surrounded by talent and expertise. But remember, everyone starts somewhere, and there's always room for growth and improvement. What matters is your dedication, determination, and the effort you put into honing your skills."
Talax nodded, appreciating the elf's wisdom. “You are right of course. The good thing about all this is that it brought out my competitive side!” They both chuckled and Talax looked at the elf next to him with serious eyes making him look back with an inquisitive expression.
“You know, I will join your class! I will learn the Ethereal Blade Art!”
Master Lorindor looked at him equally serious expression and with an unexpected smile he responded.
“I can’t wait!”