The training room under the executive block was dimly lit, casting faint shadows over the walls.
The air was thick with the lingering energy of a five hour sparring session, and Ares lay sprawled on the cold floor, panting and trembling. He was utterly exhausted after hours of sparring.
His usual weapon, leaned against the wall beside him. He'd pushed himself to the edge and beyond, yet here he was, sprawled on the ground, utterly spent.
Selene, standing above him with only a light sheen of sweat, tilted her head in mild approval. "You're improving, Ares," she acknowledged, her voice calm and steady. But her next question took him by surprise. "Have you ever tried your hand with any other weapons?"
Ares managed a breathless nod. "The sword, saber, and daggers. I've trained with them."
His training had been extensive before coming to this camp, and he'd become adept in a range of weapons—though nothing felt as natural as the spear.
Selene's lips curled into a challenging smirk. "Good. Then I want to see how well you remember those skills. Choose any weapon. We'll spar again."
Ares pushed himself up, his eyes drifting to the weapon rack. He reached for the sword, its familiar weight settling comfortably into his grip.
It had been a while, but he still felt the thrill of the weapon in his grip.
Squaring off, Selene took her stance, watching him with intense eyes. "Come on then, Ares," she said. "Show me."
They began to circle each other. Ares tested the weight of the blade, swinging it experimentally, feeling out its balance.
Whoosh!
Selene pounced forward and released three quick strikes in rapid succession. Ares struggled to block them all, it had been too long since he had used the sword so he was quite rusty.
His first moves were cautious, hesitant. His grip felt slightly awkward, and the blade swung clumsily as he struggled to recall his old training.
But gradually, the muscle memory returned. The familiar rhythm of swordplay came rushing back. His movements became fluid, the sword an extension of his arm. Each swing, each parry felt natural, effortless.
And then, he noticed something even more surprising—he was pushing Selene back.
The battle intensified quickly. Ares lunged, swinging the sword in a precise arc toward her left side.
Bang!
Selene blocked it, but he could see a hint of surprise in her eyes as she stumbled back a step. His attack had come faster than she expected.
She recovered instantly, but Ares pressed on. He didn't dare to give her a moment to recover.
In the second exchange, he feinted to her right, then twisted his wrist to bring the blade toward her shoulder.
Clang!
She deflected, her brow furrowing, surprised by the speed of his reaction. He saw the briefest flicker of surprise cross her face—an emotion she rarely displayed.
He wasn't just holding his ground—he was actually challenging her.
Their battle became faster, fiercer. Ares launched a series of strikes, his blade flashing with precision and speed.
The wooden sword flashed in his hands as he struck out swiftly. His strike speed was so fast it blurred!
Selene deflected each strike, but he could see the effort in her movements. He was driving her back, something he'd never done before, not even with the spear.
Ares immediately flowed into another stance. He aimed a sweeping strike toward her midsection. The attack was abrupt and smooth. He had managed to exploit the opening in her defense in one go!
Whoosh!
She twisted away, narrowly avoiding the blow, but his sword grazed the fabric of her sleeve. The look of shock on her face was unmistakable.
For the first time, he'd managed to graze her, to show that he could match her skill.
With shocking grace, he executed a low sweep, forcing her to jump back to avoid the strike.
Then he instantly stepped forward, his sword poised for a downward strike, and in that moment, he came so close to landing a hit that Selene's eyes widened.
He was almost there.
Ares froze, panting, staring at Selene. He'd never managed to suppress her like this, not with the spear or any weapon, and yet here he was, holding his ground, even dominating. 'Could I actually be… a sword genius?'
But before he could let that thought sink in, Selene's smirk returned. She shifted her stance and her movements suddenly became quicker and sharper.
Her skills seemed to multiply, and within seconds, she was on the offensive, pushing him back. Now it was his turn to struggle.
She was like a storm—unrelenting and unpredictable. His confidence wavered as he scrambled to keep up, barely managing to parry each strike.
But Ares didn't back down. He entered a state of total focus, blocking out everything except the dance of their blades.
He had to be faster, smarter, if he wanted to keep up. His footwork tightened, and his strikes became sharper, more calculated.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
They clashed with a relentless energy, each movement faster than the last, until finally, their swords locked, and both of them, drenched in sweat, held each other's gaze in silence.
The spar finally ended, and Ares staggered back, staring at his hands, still trembling from the intensity of the fight.
The sword felt… different.
He'd felt powerful wielding it, almost like he was born to do it. His actions had been ridiculously smooth. It was like he was a king of the sword.
He glanced at his spear, feeling a pang of conflict gnawing at him.
He loved the spear, but this… this was something else.
Selene, noting his expression, gave a nod of approval. "You finally see it, don't you?" she said, almost gently. "You're a sword genius, Ares."
Her words struck him with a weight he hadn't expected, and he knew she was right. But even so, he couldn't abandon the spear. The spear was the weapon he actually loved.
It didn't change even if he was a so called sword genius.
He decided then—he'd master both. Each had its place, its purpose.
Selene turned to leave, clearly satisfied with his progress. But Ares wasn't ready for the session to end.
A nagging feeling tugged at his heart. "Wait," he called after her. She stopped, raising an eyebrow, her gaze questioning.
"One more round," he said, his voice firm. "There's something I need to confirm."
She raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
He hesitated, then took a steadying breath. "Real weapons. Let's use real swords."
She paused, clearly taken aback by the request, but then her lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Very well. Just remember the risks."
Ares picked his own sword, feeling the solid, unforgiving weight of steel in his grip.
As he unsheathed the sword, Ares hesitated, then made a choice. Instead of discarding the sheath, he held it in his off-hand, keeping it close as a second weapon.
Selene's brow lifted slightly, but she said nothing, simply taking her stance.
Clang!
Their swords clashed with a sharp, metallic ring that echoed through the room. He blocked her strike with the sheath, countered with the sword, then shifted his stance to press his advantage.
Their first clash ended in an instant, with Ares forcing Selene back. He barely had time to process it before moving into the second strike.
This time, he moved with even more confidence, the sword and sheath flowing as if he'd trained this way his whole life.
Each step felt powerful, each strike assured. He was starting to understand what his instincts had been telling him.
On the third move, he swept his sword in a low arc, aiming for her legs, then followed with a feint.
Selene moved to block, but Ares pivoted, catching her off-guard, and brought his blade up to her neck. It all happened in an instant.
They froze, and Ares's blade hovered at her throat. Selene's eyes widened, genuine shock flashing across her face.
Ares had won.
_____
Power stone Goal!
50 PS - 1 Bonus chapter
100 PS - 2 Bonus chapter
200 PS (Quite an achievement as of now) - 3 Bonus chapters.