The blade cut through the rain, its aim, Ian's throat. Watching the sword move his way, as though seeing it in a much slower motion, Ian unhurriedly stretched his arm onward. Two fingers pointed forward, at the tip of the metal thirsting his blood.
Tap
A gentle touch; and everything halted. The blade stopped at the clash. Its end was being held between two bare fingers, unable to set free. As one would do with a piece of paper, as one would deflect a child's toy, the sword strike was blocked with no effort.
"What?"
Ian's feet landed on the ground, and so did the sword. He forced the metal down, using nothing but his hands.
"H-How?"
A gasp escaped Eliot's lips, his eyes widened to match the size of walnuts. The others who were about to strike the man paused. The scene was so peculiar that no one could comprehend it. The crown prince wasn't a swordmaster or even close to being one, but his attacks were never so light and harmless.
"You're doing it wrong."
Just then, Ian spoke. His gaze glued on the young man in front of him, a smile bloomed across his face. Curly dark blue hair, deep blue eyes, a face not yet mature enough to resemble an adult, traces of childhood innocence still lingering on his features... how adorable!
He let go of the blade and pulled back. As he watched the young boy struggle to understand the secret behind his move, he couldn't help but adore him.
'The right flank.'
Ian drew his body to the left, avoiding a sword strike without even glancing at it. He then bent his body for a fist to fly past his head. Next was a kick and after that came a horizontal sword strike. Ian repeated the long memorized moves one after another, avoiding all the knights' attacks as a fish would slip through the fisherman's fingers.
Once the wave was over, Ian was a single step away from the crown prince.
"I told you, you're doing it wrong."
He peered at the sword thrusting toward him. Once again, he moved his hand forward. The tip of his two fingers touched the cold surface of the metal, moving downward in a straight line.
"Aether is not handled that way."
Tap. Ian let go of the blade and pulled back. A golden trail was left in his wake. His body seemed lighter than a feather, flowing and floating freely in the air.
"...A... saint?"
The prince understood the nature of Ian's power in just one glance.
"Little boy," Ian bent his body to the side. Eliot's sword slid across his face but failed to cut anything. "I'm not here to fight."
Fight this kid? How could he?
"Who are you calling a little boy?"
The crown prince, however, didn't pay his words the slightest attention. He swung his sword nonstop, targeting the enemy before his eyes. One move after another, he performed the strikes as perfectly as ever.
Ian let out a sigh.
'Just as always.'
He never listens, this kid.
He raised his left hand, its entirety cloaked in Aether. Clang! The blade was blocked, incapable of penetrating his flesh. His free right hand thrust forward, the tip of his Aether-coated fingers jabbed at the prince's body.
"You should control it like this."
Poff! The gentle tap came harder than a punch. Eliot curled his body, grimacing, boots sliding across the mud.
Once he stopped, the prince touched the spot just hit by the stranger. The pain lasted for less than a second, and now, a pleasant feeling was spreading inside of him. One of his Aether veins was targetted, yet he didn't receive any damage, rather, the flow of power in his body got smoother.
'What in the world is happening? Who is that man?'
His mind was a messy pool of questions.
Teeth gritted, one foot forward, Eliot's sword slashed from side to side. The blade missed Ian's face by a hair's width, grazing the edge of his hood only. Once more, from the other side, the sword moved but failed as Ian took a tiny step backward. A small turn to the side, one circle on his heels, a tiny bind to his back. He dodged attack after attack. Nothing could harm him.
Not just his hands, but his whole body was covered in holy power. A frail trace of gold lingered wherever he passed. Every move was gentle, yet agile. Like a flower petal gliding in the wind. He was performing a dance rather than a fight.
'He's dodging my attacks, meaning he can't stop them with his body like he does with his fingers.'
Despite knowing that fact, Eliot could do nothing. He slashed forward like the way he was taught, like how he'd always smash the training dummy's head in half. Holy power was added inside the blade to ensure its destructive enough impact, yet his sword didn't move close enough to even leave a scratch!
"What the actual hell?"
Tap. Ian's fingers hit Eliot's left arm and moved down to the left side of his chest. A cold yet warm, numbing sensation was left wherever he touched. His Aether seeped into Eliot's body like water would in a dry land.
Ian took a tiny step forward as he circled on one heel, his fingers running across the prince's body at the same time.
"It's done like this."
From his heart to his chest, to his throat, shoulder, right arm, elbow, fingertips, then his sword. Ian's fingers ran across the hard metal. A clear line was drawn from the boy's body to the sword, leaving an almost palpable trail.
"Like this."
In front of the prince's widened eyes, his blade instantly glowed. Bright dust whirled around the sword, seeped inside, and spread to the edges from the center, painting its entirety gold.
A clear Aether Blade.
"...What?"
Deep blue eyes fixed on the glowing blade, Eliot unwittingly pulled his arm. The blade slashed the air at the movement, a clear line flashed in the wake. As the tip hit the ground, it drilled the wet soil deep and brutally.
"Did you learn it?"
A merrily uttered light tone, in clear contrast to the other person's perplexed state.
The glow over the blade flickered as it faded away. One glance at the blade and another rat the man, Eliot hesitantly staggered back.
"H-how did you..."
His already soaked back went bitter cold. His lips parched, breaths turned into occasional gasps.
"This..." Aether Blade. The movement he'd been trying to learn for months yet failed all the time. "How do you know the Imperial Sword Technique?"
The technique that was kept a secret from everyone but the closest of the royal family, the sword dance taught only to the descendants of the holy blood.
'Sword Dance...'
The fog cleared off his mind. All the dots linked to form a realization.
The cloaked man's previous moves weren't just to dodge his attacks. The way he shifted his posture, the swift footwork, the graceful gestures... This man... He was really performing a dance.
"Who are you?"
"Try it out."
The response wasn't to the question he asked. The man pointed at his sword.
"The way I taught you."
"...."
The Imperial Sword Technique, the Aether Blade, the way he was shown right now?
Strangely enough, Eliot wanted to try it out.
'Move the Aether from the heart to the chest, to the...'
The trail drawn by the man could still be vividly felt on his body. The boy closed his eyes. The spark of holy power gradually moved through his veins.
'To the tips of my fingers...'
The slightly warm energy left his hand. Peeking through his long-lashed, Eliot watched how the tiny sparks of Aether seeped into his blade. The surface of the metal changed colors to that of the glowing sun.
"...."
'I-I did it!'
An Aether Blade. A stable Aether blade.
The suppressed breath escaped his lips as a loud gasp. Disbelief still lingering in his eyes, the bitter taste of countless failures vanished from his tongue. Wheeling up in his chest was a hot, sweat sensation.
'It's been a while, my little Eliot.'
Biding in front of the prince, Ian too, glanced at the sword, but his gaze soon shifted back to the young boy. The expression of joy, those widened eyes, twinkling with excitement. How adorable!
"Ah!?"
As if just noticing his presence after a few seconds of dwelling in joy, the prince hurriedly collected himself. Grabbing the hilt of the sword with two slightly trembling hands, his hesitant gaze inspecting Ian from head to toe.
The other knights had long given up on attacking Ian, either because they feared hurting the crown prince by mistake, or because Kieran was keeping them entertained, so Ian had the leisure to stand still and let the little boy analyze him as much as he liked.
"...Who are you?"
Ian took a step forward. His shoes dug into the mud and rain.
"Test it out, your Aether Blade."
Tap.
"Huh?"
SPLASH. Water spattered on the hems of his cloak. His figure dashed forward without giving the prince a moment to collect his mind.
"Who in the-"
Watching the man's approach, Eliot didn't hesitate a bit. He could dodge the attack anyway. The glowing sword in his hand raised up, shifted, and thrust forward like darting lightning.
"Yes, like that."
He was doing perfect on the first try. Ian gave him the approval with a brief comment, with immeasurable pride surging up his chest.
He was such a smart boy that Ian didn't need to repeat his words twice.
"Perfect!"
But he wasn't done yet.
STAB.
The glowing blade thrust at its target. Crimson droplets splattered across that showering rain.