"Sword rain" wasn't that what Mark had said? Zico's mind raced as he turned and ran, the sound of falling swords echoing behind him. He managed to escape into a small hole, possibly an animal's den, before the sword rain could catch up to him. Exhausted, he sat down, muttering:
"This is messed up." It was troubling, why had he ended up back in the sword ground? Zico was extremely intelligent, but his desire for power had clouded his judgment and reasoning. He wasn't sure what he had come here for, but he knew he needed something that would make him powerful enough to become a god slayer. God slayers were those who had surpassed knight level, though it didn't mean they could slay gods, they were close to it. As a level four knight, Zico sought a way to accelerate his growth, willing to take anything that would make him stronger. Sometimes he thought his goal was messed up, he wanted to kill Mark and tarnish the reputation of god slayers, the only way he could exact revenge on a dead person, unless there was more. What lay beyond power? He was lost in thought when a voice interrupted him.
"Welcome to my home," said Mark's duplicate. Zico stared at the duplicate, unaware it wasn't the real Mark, and saw no difference.
Zico sprang to his feet, ready to fight, but the duplicate held up a hand, its expression calm and collected:
"This is my domain, and you can't harm me here," it said, its voice eerily similar to Mark's. Zico's annoyance flared:
"What are you saying, Mark?!" he growled, his pride wounded. He had always been the stronger one, surpassing Mark in skill and prowess. What gave mark the audacity to belittle him?
Then, a sudden realization struck Zico - why was he so agitated? It wasn't like him, not since he had crossed over from the other side. Something was off, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"You want power, right? Let me give it to you," Mark's duplicate said, its form dissolving into a pool of blood. Zico's skepticism was evident, but he couldn't deny the opportunity. The creature had taken Mark's form after killing him; what was its intention now? Should he stop it? No, if Mark was indeed dead, the only thing that mattered was gaining more power. So, he let the blood envelop him, and it vanished as suddenly as it appeared. Then, a surge of energy coursed through his body, and he screamed in agony:
"Haaaaa!"
"Damn, finally the sword rain is stopping," Mark thought, relieved, as he entered his meticulously crafted hideout. The cave had been transformed into a cozy house, complete with a steaming cup of tea that he savored, feeling refreshed. He assumed his duplicate was dead by now, but then he sensed an unexpected surge of power - familiar, yet unplaceable. Mark's memory was usually sharp, but the past four months had been a blur of learning about various creatures, and he struggled to recall every person he had met. Fighting Beauty and Asami stood out, but the rest were hazy, and he couldn't control the memories that resurfaced. If his duplicate had indeed died, he now had to contend with this mysterious power. With a sense of urgency, Mark swiftly changed his clothes and walked out of the hideout, ready to examine what he was about to deal with next.
Emily, the fighting beauty, sat in her room, lost in thought, her mind a maze of memories. The soft whisper of her mother's voice broke the silence, summoning her from the depths of her reverie. Since escaping the sword rain, Mark's presence lingered in her thoughts, a constant reminder of the unspoken bond they shared. Now, as a level two knight and the seventh strongest in Oregona Academy, Emily's hard won achievements fueled her determination to forge her own path. She refused to ride the coattails of her father's fame and glory, instead choosing to carve her own legacy.
As she descended the stairs, her footsteps echoed through the hallway like a drumbeat, each step a testament to her unyielding spirit. The living room welcomed her with warm familiarity, like a cozy embrace, but her mind remained elsewhere, trapped in the memories of her time with Mark. The first time they met flashed before her eyes like a snapshot, and a gentle smile crept onto her lips, hinting at a secret joy. Her mother's eyes sparkled with joy, like diamonds in the sunlight:
"Why are you smiling, dear?" The question was a reminder that her emotions hadn't withered away, that the spark within her still flickered like a candle flame.
Which made her mother happy, her face lighting up like a sunrise.
"It's about a friend I've been missing lately," Emily said, descending the stairs and sitting next to her mother, who didn't stop her questioning with a smile:
"Is it a boy?" She asked, her voice like a gentle probe. Emily blushed, her mother getting the answer already, and asked again:
"Is he cute?"
"Mom!" Emily screamed at her mother, hiding her face behind her hands like a shield.
"I have to know, he might be my future son-in-law" her mother teased, her voice playful but curious.
"He's not even my boyfriend" Emily said, her hands still covering her face, as if it was the only thing she could hide behind.
"Oh, tell me how you met him" her mother pulled back her teases and asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Uhh, it's not that pleasant to remember" Emily remembered her first time meeting Mark, it wasn't even worth smiling about, but strangely she did.
"Just tell me" her mom insisted, her voice gentle but firm.
"Remember when I came back from school and passed out?" Emily asked with a smile, her eyes far away.
"Yeah?" Her mother said, her voice encouraging.
"Well, the first day we met, I challenged him to a fight, he beat me, but with my skills, I won" Emily said, her voice filled with a mix of emotions.
Wait, so she has a crush on someone who beat her that bad? What was Emily's mother thinking? She had been looking for this boy who dared to touch her daughter, but now her daughter was smiling because of him. Was she happy? Angry? Confused?
"You've got to be kidding me" her mom responded with a not-so-sure smile? Frown? What was that? Her face was a puzzle of emotions, unsure how to react.