(Abaddon's POV)
(Donovan): "Son, this is Alva Lenny, an adventurer that has enough skill to accept the request."
I nod, takin a better look at the woman. Pale white skin, to the point it seems unhealthy, blood red eyes and average breasts, with a decent waistline. She's dressed in a black top bra, similar to a sports one.
She's also dressed in black tight pants, using black leather boots. On her hands, black leather gloves, and in her back, tied magically, a black great sword with a slender blade rests, seeming deadly sharp. Her height is around 1,70, and her hair goes smooth to her buttocks. She has a impish smile in her face.
(Alva): "Hello! Are you the young lord?"
She asks, approaching me and crouching so that she gets in the same height as my eyes. I nod, and she smiles widely, ruffling my hair and laughing.
(Alva): "You're quite cute, aren'tcha?"
She gets up and turns to my father.
(Alva): "So, when do I start?"
My father just smiled, and I rose my blade, and stabbed in the direction of her head. She takes a step to the side, looking over her shoulder, surprised. I smile, and say:
(Abaddon): "I needed a sparring partner. I hope you can help me."
And then, I follow with one of my four styles that I have developed, Twice Critical. The sword in my hand turns into a blur and stab several times in her direction. Twice Critical, named by one of my friends from my previous life, focuses in speed for attacks in the weak points as fast as possible, an aggressive style without any defensive maneuverers.
Alva has a great footwork, as she avoids my stabs. This technique is called Million Needles, a series of unbelievable fast stabs aiming for the weak spots as fast as possible, disregarding everything but speed and strength. And, as the name implies, within three seconds in my prime, I could deliver a million stabs.
However, at the moment, the most stabs that I can deliver is one hundred and fifty two. With my father watching by the side, I watch Alva's reaction. She avoids perfect up to the twentieth stab, and by the fortieth she starts frowning, and her footwork starts failing her.
While for my father it may seem like a blur, for me, who has enhanced perception to the point that my body can't keep up, everything is moving in slow motion. My sword glances her cheek by the forty fifth and her expression changes.
She smiles, the smile of a person who has thirst for battles. Her speed raises, and she goes back to have room to spare, and raises her hand to her sword in her back. I hold back a smile, she doesn't seem to want to hold back.
Unfortunately for her, I'm not at my max speed yet… and I haven't even started to use the essence of Twice Critical. Her eyes start to follow my sword as it goes to her left shoulder while her right hand moves to the sword, but at the same time, another sword heads to her right hand.
She notices it and looks shocked to the bruise in her palm where my attack hit her. The sword didn't move fast enough to create am afterimage at all, in her eyes, my arm literally duplicated and did two attacks at the same time.
The essence and reason for the name Twice Critical, a mix of three aspects, now two since I'm human. Speed and magic. More specifically, an application of shadow magic that is more flexible than it seems and has a lot of unusual uses. One of them is the use of my own "shadow", an echo of my moments.
Unfortunately, without demonic power to fuel it, the shadow strike cannot cause any type of damage besides fooling the enemy. So, I combined it to my present speed. In truth, since the first stab, I have been only using half of my speed, and by distracting her with the shadow attack, I used the real one to a surprise stab on her hand.
She tries to look at me, but my sword takes all her attention. She seemed surprised by the illusion, but her shock faded quickly after two more stabs. She let go of the thought of grabbing her sword and focused on dodging. Humm, this is a bit disappointing…
My boy starts to ache heavily as I start to reach the ninetieth stab. Even if I'm reinforcing myself with magic at the moment, this body is too young and weak to handle all my power. Even so, I'm a bit disappointed on her, I expected some more resistance…
Oh my, she's quite the surprise! Her eyes flow in a light red, and I feel something that I was quite familiar in my previous life. Blood magic, characteristic from the vampires. As a demonic subrace, they have their own special power that is blood magic.
Her movement speed raises, and I also go all out, and by the hundred-fifth stab, she manages to get her sword and get half step of advantage. Sincerely, her level of swordsmanship should be around level 8.
My level five is the limitation of my body, and with magic, the max level that I can reach is 8 in terms of speed and strength, but not technique. She takes her sword, and easily blocks my stabs, and with a flick of her sword, she disarms me.
I fall on my but, sweating heavily, my muscles screaming like hell. She looks at me with a wild smile, and I smile back to her.
(Abaddon): "I'll… be… counting… on… you…"
I say as I breathe heavily, sweat fowling down my forehead and making my eyes burn a little. She smiled, and I notice her slightly more sharp canines.
(Alva): "You can count on me!"
(Alva's POV)
I sat on the bed that I will be sleeping for some time in a room of the baron's mansion. Today is a wonderful day. After a century of wandering, with the hope of meeting the one I love lost, I decided to see the famous Dark Forest by myself, where monsters with great power dwell.
It may even be a chance to improve my sword, I thought. After all, battles are what make the sword sharpen, and the arm that wields it more precise. As I traveled here, I thought about the dreams that I had since I was ten years old, before becoming a vampire.
In my dreams, I was a woman in a strange world called earth, where technology that I can't understand how it works precisely existed together with magic, and monsters destroyed everything that they could.
In that world, three factions fought, and two allied to take one down. In that world, I was a human woman that had a terrible life, and when I was killed, my soul wandered to what they called hell, where I paid for the sins that I had committed in life.
Eventually, my hatred and grudge allowed me to turn into a low ranking demon after plundering the souls and power of my defeated enemies. Everything that I knew was anger and destruction, nothing but an smart animal that coveted for blood with an unending thirst.
I rose in the ranks, and eventually fought against the joint armies of the humans and angels, risking my own existence, and so I fought for three hundred years. However, one day, I discovered the truth about our enslavement by Lucifer, but I didn't care as long as I could fight savagely.
One day, I was admitted under the army of the Destroyer, Abaddon, the fallen angel. And one day, HE attacked our fortress. As the personal guard of the Fallen Angel, I faced him in the battlefield along with my master.
And then, I saw it. That sword. That beautiful and perfect sword that cut the black feathers of the fallen wings. I was lying defeated on the ground, taken out without even being able to react. As my reason returned to me, called back by the incredible display, I saw a scene that I'm certain that would enter the books of history.
At the ruined fortress, as my life slowly waned, I saw a Fallen Angel on his knees, missing both arms and wings, blood flowing from his mouth, and in front of him, stood a man with black hair and red eyes, and two pairs of demon wings on his back.
(Fallen Angel): "You lowly demon… the others will come… they will slay you, and your efforts will be meaningless…"
(Aleksander): "Perhaps you are right. This might be the day that I meet my end. However, this is also the day that I take at least one of the Twelve Thrones from the filthy hands of the Fallen Ones. For today, I am Abaddon, The Destroyer."
He rose his word, clad in demonic power, and struck the neck of the Fallen Angel. At that moment, I could feel something snapping in my heart, as if a collar around my neck had been destroyed. At that moment, I wondered if that was the so called enslavement of the Fallen Ones breaking.
But I couldn't care less, because as I felt as being myself after some many centuries, I couldn't stop my feelings of yearning, to see that beautiful sword once again.
And now, after almost giving up, I saw a request at the adventurer's guild not long after registering in the previous town. A request for a boy called Abaddon. And today, after crossing through worlds, turning into a vampire and having many adventures, I've met my eternal love.
As I laid down in my bed, I out my hand on my chest, feeling my long dead heart beat again.
(Alva): "My Destroyer…"