As Atlas sat on the cold stone floor the large escort stood by the door as nameless and stoick as ever, or maybe he wasn't as stock today Atlas had no time to pry further.
Atlas meticulously wrapped each of his fingers with cloth, every time he layed down the fabric his heart would beat just a bit harder, just a bit faster. Every time this thin cloth layed across his knuckles he was closer to his dude.
Laying down with his hands almost fully wrapped his head ran the last week has been the most intense yet, with the overseers life on the line his training has become much more intense and more like normal traing then torture, but still almost none of it matters anymore all that matters is that I managed to hit this man "West" even one time.
And with that thought Atlas tightend the last of the cloth, feeling the tightness between each finger he stood up and walked twords the weapon rack he looked at each sword there and finally came to a conclusion on what one to pick. The sword was nothing special just a good balance and grip.
Atlas ran his fingers along the middle ridge of the blade feeling each part of its Imperfect craftsmanship. This cold steel would have to be enough, it was his lifeline I'm his upcoming dule after all.
Atlas was focused on his sword when someone entered his room, hearing the the nameless giant shuffle aside Atlas turned around.
"You have trained hard" said zero warmth in his voice "remember traing is much different then battle"
Atlas nodded, his mouth dry, Atlas had zero illusions about him and overseer being on friendly terms, Atlas would find a way to kill him but right now survival is more important then revenge.
The overseer nodded "GO, its time to take him to the arena"
Atlas followed behind the gaurd there heavy footsteps echoed in the empty halls.
The guard slowed down, and turned his head to face Atlas."Your footsteps...they no longer sound like a childs"
Puzzled for a moment Atlas froze stunned by the normally stoick giants words.
He turned his head back and kept walking as if he never said anything at all, they approached the entrance of the arena, tall moss coverd stones and a sand covered floor. White burning torches aligned the arena basking in a white light.
At the far end of the arena stood a line figure his white attire accepting the white light soaking it in. As intimateing as ever.
"Welcome Atlas" West stood smiling, "I hope you member our agreement, just one hit and you'll be free"
As West drew his sword he quoted the last rule "and I won't use magic of course" he chucked and asked, "are you ready Atlas?"
Instead of using his words Atlad drew his sword and got into form, he was never trained in a form or style so he held it how he saw his mother weid her sword.
His right hand rested on the bottom hilt of the sword and his left above his right, instead of holding it horizontal he turned his body to the left putting his right foot forward and resting the flat side of the blade on his left arm, this felt natural and he was ready to pounce.
As Atlas Aproched West he could see more about him, West weiled a short silver rapier, its handle white and its hand gaurd gold he heald the rapier far in front of him looking like he could paunce at any moment.
The clang of metal echoed through the arena as Atlas lunged forward, his sword aiming for West's chest. With lightning speed, West parried the blow, his rapier a blur of silver in the torchlight. Atlas felt the force of the parry vibrate through his arms, but he didn't falter. He spun on his heel, bringing his blade around in a wide arc aimed at West's side. West dodged with a fluid grace, his movements almost ethereal, and retaliated with a thrust that Atlas barely managed to deflect.
Sweat dripped down Atlas's brow as he pressed the attack, each strike more desperate and determined than the last. West danced around his assaults, always a step ahead, his eyes calm and calculating. Atlas could feel his muscles burning, fatigue threatening to slow him down, but he refused to yield. With a roar, he swung his sword in a powerful overhead strike, only for West to sidestep and deliver a swift kick to Atlas's midsection, sending him sprawling to the ground. The pain was sharp, but it fueled Atlas's resolve. He scrambled back to his feet, eyes locked onto West, determined to find an opening, no matter how small.
West's swordsmanship was a mesmerizing dance of precision and deadly elegance. Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next, his rapier flicking and darting like a twisting serpent. He combined feints and pinpoint thrusts with a fluidity that made it seem as if the blade had a life of its own, always where it needed to be. His footwork was impeccable, each step calculated to maintain perfect balance and positioning. West's strikes were deceptively quick, often appearing out of nowhere, forcing Atlas to rely on sheer instinct to block or evade. The grace and efficiency of West's style were a stark contrast to Atlas's raw, desperate attacks, highlighting the chasm of experience and skill between them.
As the duel raged on, Atlas's initial panic began to subside. He started to see the patterns in West's movements, realizing that the elegant swordsmanship, while impressive, wasn't as unfathomable as it first appeared. Each feint, each thrust, followed a rhythm, a sequence that, once deciphered, could be anticipated. Atlas's sharp eyes caught the subtle shifts in West's stance, the slight tensing of muscles before a strike. With every clash of their blades, Atlas grew more confident, his own movements becoming less frantic and more deliberate. The intricate dance of West's style slowly unraveled before him, revealing openings and weaknesses that he hadn't noticed before. The gap between them seemed to narrow, and for the first time, Atlas felt a spark of hope that he might land that crucial hit.
West's eyes narrowed as he noticed the shift in Atlas's movements. The boy was starting to anticipate his strikes, his defense becoming more effective with each passing moment. With a smirk, West stepped back, raising his rapier in a salute. "Not bad, kid," he said, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge. "But don't get too comfortable." In an instant, he surged forward, his speed and precision doubling. The rapier became a blur, its silver edge flashing like lightning. Each strike came from unexpected angles, the rhythm more erratic and unpredictable. West's swordplay turned from a beautiful dance into a whirlwind of lethal intent, pushing Atlas to his limits once more.
Atlas felt a surge of energy within him, a sense of clarity amid the chaos. Each clash of their blades sent vibrations up his arm, resonating deep within his core. He could almost see the patterns in West's attacks, the flow of his movements becoming clearer with every heartbeat. As the pace intensified, Atlas felt something stir inside him, like a floodgate about to burst. His vision sharpened, and he could feel an unfamiliar power bubbling just beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed. For the first time, a spark of hope flickered within him—he was on the brink of awakening.
Name: Atlas Daybreak
Class:Shadow Mage
Level: 1
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Attributes:
- Strength:20
- Dexterity:25
- Intelligence: 15
- Wisdom:13
- Constitution:16
- Charisma:18
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Health:60 / 100
Mana:70 / 70
Stamina:50 / 50
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Abilities:
1. ??
- Description: ??? shadowy versions. (The rest is unclear.)
- Mana Cost: ???
- Cooldown:None.
2. Shadow Blades
- Description: Create and wield simple weapons made of pure shadow, adaptable in form and function.
-Mana Cost: 10
- Cooldown:30 seconds.
3. ???
- Description:??? and wield ???.
- Mana Cost: ???
- Cooldown: ???
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Skills:
1. Swordsmanship: Advanced
2. Elemental Magic:Novice
3. Stealth: Novice