The clash between Roderick and Raizer intensified, the air charged with an unyielding determination palpable in every forceful swing they exchanged. Each movement bore the gravity of a life-and-death struggle, providing a clear testament to the depth of their commitment and the profound significance of their training.
Zephyr's voice boomed across the arena, brimming with approval. "That's more like it! That's what we like to see!"
Undaunted, Prince Roderick harnessed his elemental powers with meticulous precision. The amalgamation of fire and dirt manifested in scorching slashes, each swing unleashing fiery devastation. These lava-infused strikes left an indelible mark wherever they landed, the unbearable heat creating a scorching aftermath that animated the arena with the clash of elements.
The intense heat emanating from Roderick became so overwhelming that it forced everyone back, rendering them unable to withstand its blistering force. Raizer, in particular, felt the impact firsthand as his training equipment began to melt under the extreme temperature.
"You really want to go there," Raizer exclaimed, a mixture of excitement and challenge evident in his voice.
In response, Raizer heightened his focus, infusing his ice sword with potent energy. Swiftly, he conjured forth spikes of ice, strategically deploying them as a countermeasure against Roderick's scorching attacks. As Roderick's lava-infused slashes approached, Raizer adeptly manipulated the ice spikes, intercepting the fiery onslaught and mitigating the searing heat.
The clash of fire and ice transformed the arena into a captivating battlefield of contrasting elements. The air crackled with the collision of their powers, portraying a mesmerizing display of skill and strategic prowess. It showcased the depth of their training and underscored their unwavering commitment to mastering their respective abilities. Every move unfolded like a meticulously calculated dance, a dynamic contest for dominance between two resolute opponents, each propelled by their unique goals and aspirations.
However, in each clash, a clear victor emerged—a culmination of strength, strategy, and experience. In a sudden surge, Raizer showcased the evident gap in power and skill that set them apart. With remarkable swiftness, he summoned an array of ice spikes that materialized behind the prince, catching Roderick off guard. Reacting instinctively, Roderick tried to counter the surprise attack, but the unexpected maneuver unbalanced him.
Seizing the moment, Raizer's movements became a blur as he closed the distance between them with remarkable speed. With an exultant strike, he channeled all his might into his sword, delivering a blow that connected with Roderick's defenses. The impact resonated, a testament to Raizer's superior strength. The force of the strike sent Roderick hurtling through the air, his form silhouetted against the backdrop of the arena. With an abrupt expulsion of energy, he crashed beyond the boundary of the fighting grounds, disappearing from view.
Silence descended upon the Black Grounds as the aftermath of the clash settled. The weight of the moment lingered palpably in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of Raizer's triumph and Roderick's defeat. The spectators, trainers, and fellow trainees stood in collective awe of the spectacle of power and skill that had unfolded before them. The arena, once alive with the clash of elements, now reverberated with a profound stillness as all eyes remained fixed on the location where Roderick had been launched from the arena.
The dust of battle gradually settled, leaving a charged atmosphere of anticipation as everyone awaited Roderick's return.
In a matter of moments, a figure emerged from the dissipating dust. It was Prince Roderick, his form visibly shaken and stumbling. Raizer, frustrated, muttered, "Are you kidding me?" Despite the undeniable fatigue etched across Roderick's features, there was an unwavering determination in his eyes—a testament to his resilience and unyielding spirit.
As Roderick's unsteady steps continued, an unexplainable energy seemed to emanate from his very presence. The air around him crackled with an unfamiliar power, as though the joy and happiness that once filled the atmosphere had been momentarily consumed. His countenance had shifted, a reflection of someone momentarily disconnected from himself and the world around him.
Some of the trainees tried to aid him, but upon approach, they fainted as if their life force had been drained away.
Before the unfolding transformation could advance further, an abrupt intervention occurred. As if materializing out of thin air, Zephyr stood before Roderick, his presence a stalwart shield against the mounting turbulence. With a swift and practiced motion, the commander's palm ignited with a transparent red flame. This flame was unlike any other, radiating warmth that held a sense of familiarity.
In one smooth motion, Zephyr pressed his glowing hand against Roderick's chest. The touch was gentle, yet it carried a profound weight—an act of guidance and protection. As the commander's power interfaced with the prince's turmoil, an unexpected serenity descended. Roderick's form eased, and the tumultuous energy that had enveloped him began to wane.
"Sleep now, my prince," Zephyr spoke softly, his voice carrying an undertone of paternal concern. "You are not yet ready." The commander's words were a soothing balm, calming the storm within Roderick's being.
Amidst the swirling dust and the aftermath of the intense battle, Talon stood as a silent witness to the exchange between the commander and the prince. His gaze remained cool and detached, revealing little emotion as he observed the events unfolding before him.
Talon's cold, unfeeling gaze did not go unnoticed. As the commander carried the unconscious prince away, he cast a sidelong glance at Talon. A flicker of irritation crossed his face as he muttered to himself, "That bastard again."
From the terrace above, King Thorian continued to observe, his gaze following the commander's departure with a mix of concern and intrigue. It was as if he and the commander shared an unspoken understanding of the significance of what had just occurred. With a decisive nod, the king made up his mind. He would descend from the terrace to check on his son personally, his regal composure masking any inner turmoil.
As the healers tended to the prince, the king commanded, "Just take him to his room. I will follow shortly."
Turning to Zephyr, the king expressed his concern, "That was too close good work," to which Zephyr responded, "I think he should stay away from any fight for a while."
"On the contrary, the only way he can master it is through fights. Keep the intensity of the training," the king commanded.
"As you command, Your Grace," Zephyr acknowledged with a nod.
The heat of the fight started to cool down, and the healers began to attend to the fallen trainees who had tried to aid the prince. Questions began to circulate among the onlookers, the confusion evident in their expressions.
"What the hell was that?" murmured one of the trainees, his gaze fixed on the arena.
"Did you see the prince's eyes? It was like something took over him," another whispered, trying to make sense of the inexplicable events.
The healers worked diligently, their focus on reviving those who had fainted or been affected by the strange energy emanating from the prince.
"I've never seen anything like this in training before," remarked Bardmin, exchanging puzzled glances with Talon, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts, garnering little attention.
"What's with him today?" Bardmin wondered to himself, eyeing Talon with a hint of curiosity and concern. The events in the arena had left everyone with a sense of bewilderment, but Talon's demeanor seemed particularly distant and preoccupied.
The air buzzed with uncertainty and speculation as the aftermath of the intense battle unfolded before them.
Zephyr turned to address the training ground, raising his voice to be heard clearly. "Everyone, report to the arenas you've been assigned to!"
As Talon and bardmin was about to continue with their chores, the commander's voice barked out, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Talon froze in astonishment, then quickly made his way over to the commander, standing straight, feeling the weight of the commander's displeasure bearing down on him. "Yes, Commander?"
"Who are you, and what is your rank?" the commander demanded.
"Talon, son of Mortis, class three, rank one thousand two hundred and twenty-two," Talon responded crisply.
"Okay, report to the arena with Raizer now," the commander ordered.
"Me, sir?"
"Yes, you."
"But I'm just a class three, I'm not a high-level knight."
"Are you questioning my order, you useless cunt?" The commander's tone turned more severe.
Talon stood there, thinking, "Shit, I'm fucked."
The commander's voice dripped with sarcasm as he addressed Talon, saying, "I noticed your gaze lingering on the prince, and your failure to bow raised an interesting question in my mind. For you to disregard the customary bow, you must believe yourself stronger than not just me but all the elite knights standing here."
Talon stood before Raizer with a hesitant, slow walk. Raizer, standing in the middle of the arena, displayed impatience. "Hurry up! We don't have all day," he called out impatiently.
Talon, standing before Raizer, met a scrutinizing gaze. "Where is your sword?" Raizer asked, his tone impatient.
Talon hesitated for a moment before responding, "I don't have one, sir."
Raizer rolled his eyes and called out to one of the attendants, "Get him a goddamn sword!"
"Now, if you're a third-class, that means you know the fundamentals," Raizer stated, looking intently at Talon.
Talon nodded in acknowledgment, and Raizer raised an eyebrow. "Where is your voice?" Raizer shouted, demanding a more audible response.
Talon found himself in a tight spot, realizing the predicament he had gotten himself into. As he stood there, he pondered how to navigate this situation with the least damage to his body. *"If I want to survive this, I need to play it right,"* he thought, contemplating his next moves carefully. *"I need to lose, but not too quickly. I can't show too much skill; I do not want to attract more attention."*
As the crowd and Raizer awaited a response, Talon took a deep breath and forced himself to speak louder, "I know the fundamentals, sir."
The captain's stern gaze fell upon the scene in the arena, and he demanded answers from his knights. "What the hell is going on?" he stated, visibly frustrated when he saw Talon in the midst of it all.
"We do not know, sir," answered Bardmin. "He was ordered into the arena by the commander."
"What do you mean we do not know? What did that idiot do now?" the captain exclaimed, his frustration escalating."
"On my mark... begin!" Zephyr initiated the fight.
Talon stood with both hands holding the sword, adopting a basic fighting stance. He pointed the sword towards Raizer but didn't display any power or Pyroguard or abilities.
A cable of seconds passed, and Talon still hadn't moved. "Are you not going to attack? Well, if you won't, I will," Raizer declared. In an instant, he charged forward with such incredible speed that Talon barely had time to blink.
Raizer attacked from every conceivable direction, and Talon, while desperately trying to survive, was attempting to discern the source of these relentless strikes. He realized Raizer's strategy: to target his sword, aiming to break it. Such a defeat would be profoundly humiliating.
"I want to lose, but not like that. I won't let him have his way," Talon thought, determination flashing in his eyes as he adjusted his stance.
In one of Raizer's attacks, Talon attempted to counter with a slash aimed at keeping Raizer at bay. However, Raizer anticipated Talon's move and swiftly shifted to his side, delivering a powerful punch that sent Talon stumbling to the edge of the arena.
"You think you're smart, arrogant bastard," Raizer sneered as he towered over the fallen Talon. "You think the prince's disrespect will go unnoticed? We will teach you the manners that your father should have instilled in you."
Talon rose from the ground, his expression a mask of stoicism that concealed the anger and hatred simmering within him at Raizer's taunts and the mention of his father.
"This look again? We will need to teach you more," Raizer remarked.
As Raizer continued his unrelenting assault, Talon maintained an unwavering composure, his seemingly impassive gaze concealing the intense determination within. Skillfully parrying each of Raizer's attacks with precision, he displayed no visible signs of struggle. Raizer, increasingly vexed, found himself puzzled, thinking, "What the hell? He's completely different from earlier." Nevertheless, Raizer launched a final, devastating attack, infusing it with some of his envelop powers.
In that critical moment, Talon snapped back to reality, purposefully lowering his guard to entice Raizer's powerful attack. It was a daring move, yet he had a clear objective in mind. Raizer's envelop-infused strike connected with tremendous force, propelling Talon out of the arena. He tumbled across the ground, landing in a heap just beyond the boundaries of the combat area.
As Bardmen attempted to assist Talon in standing and guide him toward the healers, the commander's stern voice sliced through the air.
"Leave him. Do not help him," he commanded.
Talon struggled to his feet, his face contorted in pain, and he stumbled. Bardmen instinctively reached out to lend a helping hand, but the commander's voice, even more forceful this time, halted him in his tracks.
"I will not repeat myself," the commander declared firmly.
Talon, visibly in pain, managed to stand on his own. Clutching his injured shoulder, he walked slowly toward the healing chamber. As Talon retreated, the commander's voice followed, instructing the others, "Carry on, people. Pay no attention to that filth."
Despite his victory, Raizer couldn't shake off a sense of unease. Something felt amiss about Talon's performance in the fight. Talon's peculiar behavior, his deliberate lack of serious effort – it all ignited a spark of curiosity and suspicion in Raizer's mind.
"In the fight, he was blocking my attacks, and it's like he wanted to lose," Raizer pondered to himself. Frustrated, he inspected his sword and discovered a crack on it.
"Are you fucking kidding me," he muttered in frustration, realizing that Talon had deliberately held back significantly during the fight.
Talon continued his solitary journey until he was out of sight, making sure to remain unnoticed. Once he felt safe from prying eyes, he swiftly activated his self-healing abilities. With practiced ease, he mended his injured shoulder, letting the soothing warmth of his abilities wash over him. After ensuring that his shoulder was completely healed, he tested it with a few cautious movements, finding it as good as new.
Talon, muttering to himself, couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and frustration. His act had been necessary to divert attention away from his true abilities, but it hadn't been easy pretending to be so vulnerable. He knew that keeping his true strength hidden was essential, and he was willing to go to great lengths to do so. As the day progressed peacefully without any complications, Talon continued with his duties. As night fell, he walked with Bardmin, heading to the tavern.
"Oh man, today was a bit much for me. I need a strong drink," Bardmin said.
"I'm not drinking today," Talon responded.
"How could you, after what happened to you?"
"Don't worry about me. Nothing affected me, and nothing will," Talon assured Bardmin, his tone resolute.
A voice interrupted their conversation. "Is that so?"
They both turned to see Raizer.
"Nothing affected you, huh? Well, I figured," Raizer remarked.
Bardmin stood in shock and stammered, "Good evening, sir."
"Good evening? Well, it's a good evening, don't you think, Talon, son of Mortis?" Raizer said with a wry smile.
Talon nodded his head in acknowledgment.
"bardmin, right? Would you give me a moment alone with Talon?" Raizer requested
Bardmin nodded and said, "I'll see you soon, Talon, I think."
"So, who are you, Talon?" Raizer began the talk.
Talon looked at him, a bit puzzled. "What do you mean, sir?"
Raizer fixed his gaze on Talon. "Who are you? Or, to be exact, what are you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," Talon replied, his expression neutral.
"Oh, you do not know. The fight today—do you think your act will go unnoticed? You may have fooled the commander, but not me." Talon looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"I will ask you again, who are you?" Raizer pressed, his tone firm.
"I don't owe you any explanation," Talon retorted, maintaining his stoic composure.
Raizer's eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. "You're playing a dangerous game, Talon. Disrespecting the prince and now avoiding the consequences—you won't get away with it."
Talon's expression remained unchanged. "I've seen enough of your so-called consequences. They're just excuses to exert power over those weaker than you."
Raizer's patience wore thin, and he sneered, "You're not as clever as you think. There's more to you than meets the eye, and I'll make sure it surfaces."
Just as Raizer was about to escalate the confrontation, the distant commotion diverted his attention. Guards and knights were rushing towards the castle gate, a sense of urgency in their movements.
"What happened?" Raizer inquired, his annoyance evident.
The alarmed guard replied, "Something attacked the hunter village."
Raizer's focus shifted from Talon to the unfolding situation. When he turned back to address Talon, he found an empty space. Talon had vanished.
Cursing under his breath, Raizer muttered, "This is not over, Talon." With a sense of urgency matching that of the guards.