KATHERINE HEARTH'S POV:
I groaned as I sat up in my bed, trying to recall why I was feeling like this.
"Ah, the festival," I muttered, understanding this unbearable sensation. I was surprised I was even able to remember the events that had occurred yesterday, but I could tell some elements were missing.
A small fragment of the festival flashed before me, my body instinctively reaching into my left pocket and pulling out a small necklace. I smiled, putting the trinket around my neck. I looked over and noticed the bed on the other side of the room was empty, but I knew exactly where Darck would be.
I had grown accustomed to his unusual lack of emotion and interest in pretty much everything around him, so identifying when he was interested in something was pretty simple. I got up, getting ready to go meet him at the dojo.
Even though I really didn't know much about the boy, I had come to rely on him more than I would like to admit. He had a gentle side to him, attempting to help others as much as possible without explicitly showing it.
A massive ruckus of cheers led me through the streets of Orun, narrowing me down onto my partner's location. I pushed myself through the massive crowd that encircled a small wooden house, two fighters sparring inside.
To a normal citizen, what was occurring in front of me would just be two blurs of colors clashing against each other. Their speed was absolutely terrifying, even without the use of neutral bind. I looked a little closer, something clearly not right.
Darck was on the defensive. He was somebody that, unlike his passive attitude, always attacked first and kept the pressure up at all times. Was his opponent really that strong?
Upon further spectating, I realized that, even though he was defending, his moves were extremely calm and calculated. My eyes widened at the possible scenario that formed in my mind.
Was he... testing his opponent?
Swiftly evading every sweep and kick, blocking the attacks that were too fast to dodge, consistently creating distance between himself and his opponent. From a spectator's perspective, it would appear that the master was dominating this young challenger with ease, but one look at the Fei's face proved otherwise.
Sweat trickled down his face, his expression furrowed in frustration as he realized his helplessness against the masked warrior. He realized that Darck had complete control over the fight, deciding whether or not to end it with one attack.
Where had he learned to fight like that? I doubted he was older than me, but my memory of his face from the first time we met was slowly fading away. Even if he was my age, this meant that he was fourteen, and probably started training around the age of nine?
It was a wild guess, but saying it within my head just seemed completely wrong. There was no way you could fit Darck within the norm for other kids.
"Finish the fight, Master Yu!" cried out one of the spectators, being completely fooled by the facade that Darck was putting up.
I stood there, staring at Darck. Who was he? Where did he come from? After so many battles fought together, those were questions that could never be answered through actions alone.
And until I mustered the courage to ask him those questions directly, I'd never know who my partner really was.
MASTER YU'S POV:
I was defeated.
I could tell that as soon as the battle started, this opponent was someone I had underestimated. Greatly underestimated.
I chained attacks that an Imanian royal guard would be unable to block, and yet this small boy was dodging them like they were a mere annoyance. Even an attempt at faking a strike came down to nothing, the boy shifting his feet flawlessly and blocking my attack with his weapon.
His eyes glared at me, anger seeping out from behind that mask of his.
A sparring match was a dialogue between two swordsmen, both of them communicating their feels through their strikes. This boy knew that and had not once returned an attack. Was he choosing to conceal his identity? Did he fear the knowledge I might gain from a strike of his?
I halted my attack, taking a defensive stance. The boy understood what I was trying to do, but knew there was no way out of it. He threw himself at me, our training swords locking together in a clash.
I immediately understood everything, while simultaneously becoming extremely confused and lost. The weight of his strike, his ferocity, his aim, they all led to one thing. This boy had fought for his life.
This was different from fighting monsters or sparring against fellow adventurers. This adventurer had felt and experienced horrors so brutal that the sword was his only companion. The only thing he could trust was the weapon he used to fight others, to save himself.
I pushed back, shoving the adventurer back and dropping my sword on the ground.
"This battle is over," I announced, the boy merely nodding as the rest of the crowd remained silent. I flicked my hand, raising a stone pillar that blocked the entrance of the dojo, hiding us from sight.
"How?" I asked the young man, slightly shivering from the imagery that had flooded my mind.
"I'm older than I look," he responded. It wasn't a blatant lie, but it was an answer that revealed close to nothing about my suspicions.
"You won this fight, young man. May I know your name?"
"Darck."
The name didn't ring a bell. I could tell this adventurer didn't know who I was, so my guess was that he was new to the world of adventuring.
"Very well, Darck. I will teach you what you want to know."
The technique of bind circulation, a form of sustainability that I had created, and only a select few knew. I sighed in relief, my search finally over after ten whole years.
I had finally found my successor.