Merin raised her eyebrows, "Oh you're certainly something! To think I would see a fellow Upper Four wielder like this."
"Likewise, although I would be lying if I said this didn't unnerve me."
Taking up a stance Merin explained, "Currently I am at the peak of when I was Second Stage. Although my swordsmanship has long since improved."
"So, how are we doing this?"
"A simple duel until one side dies or forfeits. Worry not your actual life isn't in danger here."
Akiol took a breath. Simple, that was what amply described the stance Merin took. Yet as he watched it he felt like he was facing a titan. Akiol had fought against many top tier beings, but the feeling Merin gave off was among the strongest. He had a feeling that he was outmatched in this fight. Not in pure strength, rather in nothing but Skill.
It was disappointing, if he was at his prime what kind of fight would he have been able to partake in? Although he was technically no longer held back by his lack of strength, he still was incapable of utilizing many of his styles.
So he chose the most straightforward option. His swordsmanship, one he developed through several life and death battles, versus Merin's swordsmanship, said to be the apex. With such circumstances, how long could he last?
Merin noticed his resolution and adjusted her position, "Ready?"
"Yeah."
"Feel free to make the first move."
~ ~ ~
Stars held a serious expression. Both Givale and Mira stared at him quizzically. Shaking his head he told them, "I'll be right back."
Givale reached out and grabbed his arm, "To where?"
"I'm going to speak with. . . just know I'll be right back."
"Akiol is going to fight and you're not going to watch?"
"I. . . don't think Akiol is going to win-"
"What?!"
"Peerless Edge, he doesn't take anyone as his wielder. That egotistic- what matters is that he now has a wielder. Meaning whoever he took is not simple, they have to be perfect like him."
"So?"
"His wielder, their level of swordsmanship is something we've never seen before. You've been through training with Akiol, watch the fight and I am sure you'll understand."
Givale shook her head, "That doesn't matter, why are you leaving? We have to support Akiol!"
"I have some questions that need to be answered."
"Why-"
Mira grabbed Givale's shoulder, "I think we should watch the fight."
"Not you too! Stars is leaving us during such a moment."
Mira simply shook his head, "Fighting right now will distract Akiol-Sensei."
Retracting her hand Givale grit her teeth, "Mira has a point, just know this isn't the end of this Stars!"
Stars nodded, "I'll hear all your complaining after this."
~ ~ ~
The two stood still, prodding for any openings. As Akiol made fine yet constant adjustments to his stance he couldn't help but feel nervous. It had been a long time since he needed to focus so much for a battle like this. Although he didn't want to take things seriously at first, the opportunity of witnessing the Apex was rare.
At this rate he would be standing for the next ten minutes, if he didn't act now he'll regret it!
{Expeditious Steps}!
Akiol flashed across the arena and closed the distance. Stars flashed as he swung forward, the dark blue blade arcing through the air. His hand twitched and Akiol dashed back. For some reason he was holding his breath. With a shaky breath he let it out, "So this is the apex. . ."
Merin raised an eyebrow, "You're far more aware than I thought."
"I've been through some things."
"Well, I suppose it's my turn now."
Merin flashed and appeared in front of Akiol. Her action was a simple horizontal swing, but it was flawless. Any untrained eye would deem it insignificant. Yet to Akiol. . .
Twang~
He slid across the ground, the force from the blow was much more than anticipated. The swing itself was almost the same as his {Origami Style: Perfect Fold} but leagues better. Merin returned to her stance and praised, "You blocked it, impressive."
Akiol slipped off Stars' scabbard and absorbed it, "I've gained an insight now. You have my apologies however."
"Oh?"
"I can't fight you with all I have, but I shall certainly give you what I can give."
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
"You can't showcase your full strength either. Due to you being limited to Second Stage, am I right?"
"In a way."
"Let's say it's the same for me."
"How intriguing."
Akiol slid into a new stance, "Thank you for your guidance."
Merin flashed a smile before returning to a serious face, "In return, I will give you an idea of what I am capable of."
"You have my appreciation-!"
Akiol dashed forward, his face turning into an emotionless one. His focus sharpened to a terrifying degree. Aura swirled around Stars, like intertwining vines. Swinging forward he devoted his utmost into the attack.
{Cataclysm Technique: Thunder}!
+
{Origami Style: Perfect Fold}!
Cr-twang~!
His attack stopped short, the momentum behind his blow was cut. Merin flicked her wrist and knocked away Akiol's sword. Following it with a smooth movement she aimed for his neck. Akiol leaned back and dodged it by the thinnest amount possible. Twisting his body he made a follow up move. Aura spiked around Stars as he swung, a trail following through the air-!
Akiol stopped dead short, a blade pointed directly towards his neck. His Aura flickered out, like a candle being extinguished. Merin nodded and sheathed her sword, "Not bad, it's a shame I can't see what you're truly capable of."
"I. . ."
"Oh yeah, do you relinquish your Title as Sword Saint?"
". . . Yes."
"Good! Now I don't have to worry about a Title Clash."
Akiol lifted Stars and stared at the blade. Three moves. He lost in three moves. Merin noticed his expression and said, "Not many last a single move. You're certainly among the best Second Stages I have fought. But I have to ask, are you out of practice?"
"In a way."
"I figured as much, your moves seemed rusty. You're not half bad, sometime in the future when you improve I'll spar with you again. For now I shall get back to my practice."
Akiol watched as Merin casually left the arena. It was a shocking experience, for he hadn't lost so harshly in a contest of pure skill before. It almost made it seem like all his efforts were for nothing. . .
~ ~ ~
In an old room sat a neatly dressed old man. Against his obvious signs of aging, his face and hair was well groomed. Currently he was filtering through several papers and stone tablets. He stacked them according to a process only known by him, but it made several neat piles on the desk he sat at.
Perhaps it was not only due to his old age, but stress that added the wrinkles upon his face. Behind the serious look was a pair of eyes that long since lost their twinkle. A person devoid of all ambition.
An orb began to glow with a pale purple color. This orb was located on his right, resting upon a pedestal. It was one of the few objects not covered with a layer of dust, a testament to its occasional use. With a low grunt the old man stood up and walked to the orb. Brushing his hand over the surface of it he spoke, "What is it?"
A magic projection lifted five inches off the surface. A face with a pair of glasses appeared, their appearance disgruntled and unorganized, "Chief! You have to see the results of some of the newcomers!"
"Why does it matter? You know our position."
"But if we can-"
"I wouldn't want to ruin a talented warrior's future."
"Chief. . ."
"This is useless news, you should have not bothered me."
"I sent you a few of their records. Promise me you will take a look at them."
The old man sighed, "If that will be enough to convince you."
"Thank you. . . and Chief?"
"What is it?"
"Don't lose hope."
Closing their eyes the old man nodded, "Got it."
The projection flickered and cut off. A sigh escaped the old mans lips, "'Don't lose hope'. . ."
~ ~ ~
Wrock shook his head, "Sorry, but I'm not interested!"
"Well take this, if you ever reconsider you can find my information there. Ask for me and I'll be right over!"
Wrock accepted a thin crystal slip, it was like a small card. Glancing at the surface he nodded, "Will do!"
This was the third recruiter. Ever since he entered The Gated Arena he was pestered to join different Provinces. Their offers would be tempting to many, especially if one was looking to improve. Wrock would be lying if he said he wasn't interested at first. However joining one of the Provinces also had a lot of restrictions. Much like joining a Guild in a way.
It wasn't worth to him, or to any of the Party members, to be restricted so much for a bit of improvement. They find a certain amount of freedom is needed to come into contact with inspiration. Besides they were used to not being restricted.
Besides the recruitment annoyance, Wrock found the rest of The Gated Arena to be a pleasant experience. It operated much like a city, but purely on a self improvement system. There was no such thing as a currency system, rather everything balanced on individuals working to find their limit. Food was served by skilled and talented chefs constantly perfecting their craft. Clothing provided by those working to make the finest of clothes. Armor and weapons repaired and created by those who wish to forge the perfect weapon. The most rampant type of people would be the warriors, who seem to be the sort of middle ground.
Warriors seem to come from certain areas bearing raw material. They didn't trade these materials, rather they simply deposited it and it was distributed to the places who would use it the most efficiently. A constant cycle that produced very little waste. It was impressive, but Wrock believed it to hold a very key flaw. If at any point that a person decides they no longer wish to improve themselves, they would provide hardly any worth to The Gated Arena. It's entire ecosystem was built upon a person's desire to improve themself. Despite how shaky it was, it was clear it worked. Perhaps The Gated Arena's strict requirement for entry played a key part in keeping it functional.
From what Wrock understood, the Provinces were for those who wished to improve by fighting other talented warriors. By creating a competitive system for those to better themselves. For status like rankings and increase their name's value. Competitions are quite a key part in stimulating growth. Yet the recruitment felt off, they almost seemed to be in a hurry.
His attention was drawn to the food hall. Several warriors began to crowd inside. Wrock decided to join to see what the commotion was all about. As he squeezed past several of them he found five individuals furiously cooking. Plates of different kinds of food were being served at an incredible speed. Yet were also being consumed at a greater rate.
Although the food provided a pleasant aroma, Wrock was more drawn to the raging fire within the chefs' eyes. It seemed like the competitive nature was not rampant in only the warriors. A count was being kept on a wall, each number going up at different speeds.
"Yomi takes the lead! Thirty minutes left on the clock! Who will emerge victorious?!"