Zayn was seemingly spent from such a tiresome day of fending himself from those loathsome bounty hunters. Gods, were they infuriating. However, although they were exceptionally troublesome, not one out of the 5 of them had managed to land a single scratch on the teenager— a perfect display of skill and determination to survive for the individuals who witnessed his exceptional performance of resistance. Despite his many battles, he was a handsome fellow. His paleish white skin and slightly slanted eyes indicated his Asian decent. His silky black hair was long and uncut, seemingly like a woman's. If it hadn't been for his broad shoulders and his toned muscles bulging from his cheap mercenary's armor then he would've been regarded as so.
"Another glass of ale please."
His voice, quite yet authoritative— beckoned the server to hurry and pour up another glass of ale for the young lad. He was rather content to be in such a place where not many knew of him. It was the countryside, with bustling country folk who seemed welcoming for the most part. He had started living here a few weeks ago with the realization that he was more of a target inside the city. Of course, there were individuals traveling to and from the countryside that would have recognized him— like the 5 bounty hunters who had previously tried to take him down. With it being a Saturday, that number would've surely tripled in size if he were to keep his residence in the city.
Even when tired, he had a look of stoicism on his face that still oozed seriousness and the will to fight any individual who stood in his way, albeit male or female— he'd still waste no time in striking them down with the energy reserves remaining in his muscles. Many bar-goers seemed to have picked that notion up quite easily, distancing themselves from the mysterious man upon his unnerving entrance.
Despite the majority, it was inevitable that atleast someone out of the crowd with enough 'warriors heart' was willing to challenge his 'unwelcoming aura'. It was a tall, well built man— seemingly of European decent. Strands of his bold blonde hair cascaded down to thick, bushy darker blonde eyebrows. His hairstyle was something of a messy slicked back mullet— something which seemed to be of style this day and age. His eyes, much like Zayn's, told tales of a warrior built with only time and experience. However, it had a glint of cocky arrogance to it— which made Zayn veiw the man as just another idiot wishing for a not so quick and easy death. He took his own sweet time striding towards the counter, taking residence on a wooden stool beside Zayn.
"A jug of mead please."
Almost as if to intimidate Zayn, he rested his large double edged axe on the bar's counter— to which the teenager responded by looking at the blonde stranger with glint of disdain. However, the man never seemed to acknowledge his stare until he had gotten his drink.
With a hearty swig of his mead, he slammed the jug on the table with a satisfied sigh— wiping his mouth before turning to meet Zayn's already anticipated gaze.
"Don't seem like you're from around here, stranger."
The blonde stranger's accent grew more pronounced as an English man— something which Zayn was easily able to pick up due to looks alone. Taking a calculated sip of his ale, Zayn would then begin to speak.
"I'm not. What? I thought the country side was welcome to everyone, as long as they don't cause any trouble."
"Oh you're causin' trouble alright."
The English man retorted almost immediately, getting up from his seat as if to size up the young boy.
"Don't you see how scared the people are of ya? Walkin' round with yer big ol' sword on yer back. Do you lack that much self awareness, *boy*?
Well, he was one to talk. The arrogant personality of this stranger was already beginning to manifest within seconds of interacting with Zayn.
"Where did you know me enough to be calling me boy?"
He shot back, now beginning to stand up from his stool. It was apparent that Zayn would have needed to look up at the English man as he spoke, but his darkened expression still showed that he was a force to be reckoned with, as the Englishman anticipated. His peaceful afternoon free from bounty hunters was interrupted by the likes of him. That, in his eyes, was an unforgivable sin.
"Isn't that what you are? A boy?"
The Englishman responded with a cheeky arrogant smile.
"Additionally, I know you very well…Zayn Weissland. The churches say you have the devil himself inside of you— but I won't know for sure until I see your guts."
Zayn sighed deeply, almost as if he were used to this kind of thing, now beginning to formulate conclusions in his head as to why this man went ahead and bothered him. It became apparent that the English country bumpkin was aware of Zayn's unwanted bounty on his head.
Distant speculation amongst the bar-goers began to formulate not so long after hearing the Englishman's words, their whispers and murmurs growing evident as it filled up the room. Zayn began taking a mental note of this. If the blonde stranger were to say anymore, the teenager's residence in the country side would more than likely be rendered unwelcome— making living here any further dangerous for him.
With a sigh, he reaches for the hilt of his katana, unsheathing it ever so slightly. It's beautiful silver material reflected against the light in the room— causing onlookers to subconsciously awe at its sheer antiqueness. It was unsurprising that weapons like his weren't so common in areas like this.
"I suppose you'd like to have my head then? It's unfortunate. A seemingly capable warrior like yourself dying such a meaningless death all because he wanted a little something extra in his pocket."
Zayn managed to match the Englishman's cocky personality to a T. However, the teenager's attempt in provoking him did him no good as the blonde stranger simply let out a hearty laugh. It was apparent that he was enjoying the interaction way more than Zayn himself.
"HAH! I like you, boy. But no, I don't need much money as I am well off on my own."
Boy, his attire sure didn't say so.
"Let's just say I'm here to test my mettle. I've heard many stories about you, Forbidden Child of Weiss. Maybe after this we can be companions—!"
Zayn was struck with notieceable confusion. However, before he was able to voice any sentiments surrounding his bewilderment, the blonde Englishman swung his great axe towards his dome— causing Zayn to instinctively duck before quickly stepping aside, creating a great distance between him and the Englishman. Strangely enough, the teen was so nimble that his reposition had gone completely unnoticed by the blonde man. He was almost certain that he had landed a clean hit on the boy…only to find out that he had just vanished into thin air.
His axe was long enough to put the barkeep in danger as well— which caused him to wimpily duck along with Zayn with strands of his old grey hair being severed completely off from his head by the weapon. He was sure to hide underneath the counter for the remainder of this…'friendly duel'.
"Ehhhh? Where'd ya go, boy?"
The Englishman inquired, glancing around to see where his opponent had gone. Be that as it may, Zayn has no intention of keeping his opponent waiting— delivering a strong drop kick to the side of the Englishman's noggin, seemingly coming out of nowhere. This caused his adversary to stagger back some, holding his head with a vacant hand— still seeming to process what exactly had hit him.
However, Zayn would make it explicitly clear in his own way that he had no time for that when facing someone like him.
**BAM BAM!!**
The teen swiftly drew his katana, letting the blade slide out of its scabbard and fly directly to his opponent as if it were a projectile weapon. As it soared forward, the pommel at the swords hilt struck the Englishman squarely in the forehead, causing the man's posture to recoil upwards. Conjuring a quick follow-up attack, the teen leaped forward with enhanced precision, retrieving his katana and delivering a strong upward kick to the man on his chin— leaving him to lurch backwards where the tables occupied themselves. Upon his collision, the table jerked, leaving glasses filled with wine and ale to spill over on the floor.
"Ahhh, bloody hell."
The axeman managed to grouch out, surprisingly quick to recover despite a trail of blood traveling from his forehead. His blonde hair was in evident disarray, with more blonde strands slicked with his own sweat falling onto his forehead. In his regained field of vision, he spotted Zayn menacingly striding towards him, his unsheathed katana in hand.
"Yer a dirty li'lle fighter, aren't ya?"
Hed cheekily say, huffing before lifting his body from the table, recovering his posture as he readied himself for the unexpected.
???
*WORLD INFO*
Warriors heart— spiritual potential.
A universal concept created 800 years ago by a philosopher named Kurio Witlash. It explains why a true warrior must have a balance in both humility and confidence to succeed their spiritual potential. (A true warrior's heart). This 'potential' is manifested throughout magical output, the learning of secret techniques and in some instances, even physical prowess. This is called *Spiritual Force*. Without any quality of spiritual potential, an individual cannot achieve a true warriors heart. Those who are seen to be cocky and arrogant have a sharp and hardened spiritual force. However, if defeated even once— their spiritual potential will vanish almost completely, leaving them having to start back on square zero.
Individuals who are timid, shy and have no confidence barely have enough spiritual force to maintain a fight properly. However, in most instances, their spiritual potential would be exceedingly high.
The concept of a true warriors heart isn't only limited to just the individuals of plugand (a supercontinent in the world of Edacia, which is the most developed in terms of agriculture so far), but to many other islands and countries surrounding it who practice magic. (The pope ruling plugand deems the study of magic to be illegal, with the main villain kelios using magic of his own to destroy the very infrastructure of plugand 500 years ago.)
In plugand, it seemed as if there was little to no need for the concept of spiritual potential, with magic as well as secret techniques not even being allowed. Plugand's ruler, The Pope, discarded it as a whole and viewed the Dutch philosopher "Kurio Witlash" as a fool. It was easy to imagine that the warriors of plugand were the ignorant of them all.
>>BACK TO THE FIGHT
**CLASH!**
*Zayn's katana collided with the Englishman's, its sharpness making a way through the axe's belly some. The two warriors gnawed and tussled with each other, hoping one of them would overpower the other with their weapon and conclude this fight.*
"Yer puny toothpick really managed to damage my axe!?"
The Englishman taunted, before delivering a strong hefty kick to the distracted Zayn's stomach— leaving the teen to recoil backwards with the wind literally being knocked out of him. There was a lot of heaviness to the blonde man's snowboots which gave him an arguably unfair advantage.
Zayn was quick to regain his composure, the distance suddenly made between them making it conveniently easier to evade the English man's next attempt of an attack.
"RAHHH!"
The Englishman roared as he charges towards Zayn with a downward thrust of his axe. To most, the European's gift of strength was prevalent. Not many warriors wielding such a heavy weapon were able bodied enough to swing it as if it were a long sword.
Despite that, Zayn had been able to hold his own against such a powerful enraged attack, stepping flashily to the side to prevent the weapon from splitting his body in two. However, a few strands of his silky black hair weren't so lucky— a blood curdling testament to his faith if he had moved only a bit slower.
The Englishman's attacks hadnt stopped there, oh no. A barrage of quick, yet heavy weighted attacks began without any semblance of a warning— forcing warrior to expand his range of movements from just dodging alone.
Zayn was able to retreat slowly as bombardment of attacks reigned on. However, his shallow attempts in creating distance between him and the Englishman were all for naught— as the blonde stranger pushed forward at the same pace Zayn has been retreating. Sparks of fire flashed in the atmosphere between them as Zayn's weapon collided with the Englishman's for each parry made. The katana wielder knew that if he wanted to win this fight, he had to switch the tables on the Englishman…somehow.