As our clash raged on, the once-bosterious cheers of the audience gradually dwindled into a distant hum. My tension was mounting with each passing moment. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, making it difficult to formulate any precise plans, and even if I had, I doubted their efficacy in this unpredictable contest.
The ability to perceive everything around me was still at my disposal, yet my anxiety had a vice-like grip on my focus. What if a fatal strike landed? The chilling thought of my own mortality loomed large. What if I didn't make it out of this arena alive? The prospect of leaving my family bereft gnawed at me relentlessly, a constant refrain in my mind.
But there was no retreat, no surrender. I couldn't afford to lose, not now. I was hemmed in by necessity, forced to persist in this battle against all odds. Our clashes continued, a series of violent exchanges, and though he was relying solely on his bare fists, his blows were a formidable obstruction. The resilience of his flesh seemed almost impervious to my blade, a frustrating realization.
The sword was a mystery to me, an untried entity in my hands, compounded by my own lack of combat experience. An unsettling unease settled over me. It was in that pivotal moment that the teachings from the enigmatic mentor resurfaced, a lifeline of guidance.
Recollections flooded back—words about "Soulforge," a concept he had imparted during our brief training. I delved into my memory, retrieving the details with striking clarity. The essence of his teachings illuminated my mind: the notion that living beings possessed a soul, an inexhaustible fount of energy radiating from their very core. The ancients, so the tale went, had harnessed this energy, refusing its wasteful dissipation. They learned to manipulate it, infusing it into their techniques and skills. A mastery so profound that it was said to even manipulate the building blocks of matter itself.
A spark of confidence ignited within me. I wasn't claiming to have mastered this arcane art in a single night, akin to some improbable hero from a fantastical tale. The mentor, in an act of rare trust, had bequeathed me a minute vial, brimming with his own soul energy. It was a desperate contingency, a last-resort gamble he had laid on the line. He had instructed me to anoint my nunchucks with its contents should I find myself cornered, emphasizing its singular application.
The vial held the promise of empowerment, a means to imbue my weapon with newfound strength. It would harden the material, amplify its impact, and potentially turn the tide in my favor. With these revelations at the forefront of my mind, a renewed determination surged within me, dispelling the earlier fog of uncertainty.
I uncorked the vial and let its contents cascade onto my sword's blade. In an instant, an enigmatic azure mist enveloped the weapon, rendering it utterly invisible. A heartbeat later, the mist burst forth from the blade, billowing silently across the arena. Unexpectedly, the sword began to radiate a soft, ethereal blue light that perfectly mirrored the mist's hue.
"Another trick up your sleeve?" scoffed the Titan, his voice a mixture of surprise and disdain. Before he could finish his taunt, he lunged at me with a ferocious burst of speed. Reflexively, I replicated a motion akin to an upward nunchuck swing, albeit with the sword clutched in one hand. The sword clashed against his arm, and an immense surge of power surged forth from me, overpowering his resistance. A distinct crack echoed through the air as his arm faltered, a mixture of shock and pain flashing across his eyes. I hadn't anticipated channeling so much power, let alone overwhelming him. My lack of swordsmanship skill somehow translated into raw force, and I was just as astounded as he was.
His agile form recoiled, swiftly retreating to his end of the arena. An inner voice compelled me to maintain the momentum, harnessing the diminished gravity of Evermore to my advantage. With every ounce of leg strength I could muster, I launched myself toward him, my newfound swiftness even taking me by surprise.
Externally, I presented an image of confidence and prowess as a fighter, yet only I was privy to the inner struggle I grappled with. Each maneuver demanded twice the exertion I was accustomed to with my nunchucks.
Initially, the arena remained discernible through the azure haze exuding from the sword's soul energy. However, this mist began to ascend gradually, thickening as it rose. In my lunge towards the Titan, his figure gradually morphed into obscurity, veiled by the growing fog. Though it might seem like an impairment to an ordinary observer, little did they comprehend that my eyes, attuned to more than just visible light, could also discern thermal traces emitted by living beings. Over time, I had unconsciously mastered this ability, akin to my panoramic vision.
Suddenly, a realization struck - BEHIND ME! A treacherous ploy, I surmised. With my aerial movement hindered, altering my sword's trajectory demanded an unfamiliar effort. Nevertheless, I contorted my body mid-air, outlining his massive silhouette. Although his actions were evident, his features remained shrouded. In my attempt to parry his impending strike, he drew closer and closer, until the unimaginable transpired. Executing an aerial kick, he propelled himself behind me. Reacting within that fraction of a second, my sword aligned instinctively with his approach, our combined velocities immense.
Impact ensued, accompanied by the resonating clang of colliding steel. Astonishingly, it was not his hand that thwarted the blow. The billowing fog dispersed suddenly, revealing his form. What transpired defied expectation - it was not his hand that impeded my strike. He had finally unsheathed his weapon, a formidable KANABO.
"You're not half bad," he chuckled, his voice resonating. His words continued, "It's getting fun. Don't die before giving me a good fight now."
"Die?" Did he truly intend that? The manner in which he spoke sent shivers down my spine. In truth, he was already quite fearsome even before uttering those words.
Our clash recommenced, the collision of our weapons sending ripples through the air. Vibrations, shockwaves, luminous sparks, and speed intertwined in an entirely novel sensation for me. Despite the terror, a part of me found an odd enjoyment in this spectacle. The battle's intensity surged. Our rapid exchanges, the dance of high-speed movements, persisted ceaselessly. I managed to keep pace until then, a credit to the modified gravity's aid to my stamina. A small alteration, perhaps, but pivotal in sustaining my resolve.
After a series of traded blows, he spoke again, "This is growing wearisome, brat. Shall we conclude this in our next assault? Don't fret; getting this far must already be an achievement for you."
Realistically, a head-on confrontation at full force would likely lead to my defeat. Continuing our clash indefinitely wouldn't alter the outcome. With a history of combat, he undoubtedly possessed greater stamina compared to a novice like me, for whom this was the maiden battle.
I offered him a smile, conceding to his proposition. I staked my life on this gamble. Planting my feet firmly, I faced him head-on, sword held horizontally across my chest. Labored breaths punctuated the charged atmosphere. The Titan adopted no particular stance, instead barreling directly toward me, mirroring my intent.
Legend speaks of a heightened perception that overtakes swordsmen during the precipice of clashing blades, as if time itself slows. A parallel sensation was now mine to savor, though not an instinct honed by swordsmanship, but a facet of my extraordinary vision. The fervent battle with Thra'gul had seemingly refined this aspect.
Ironically, at that juncture, I might have preferred ignorance, for I glimpsed my defeat moments before it materialized.
As our weapons teetered on the cusp of cataclysmic collision, the ethereal blue radiance that had emanated from my sword vanished abruptly. Not a gradual fade, but an instantaneous departure. The once weighty sword transformed into a feather-light fragment. In that fleeting moment, all I perceived was my blade splintering into shards, while Thra'gul's kanabo surged through, its impact resounding as it struck the left side of my face with unbridled force.