The following days were a blur of grueling training. Vanta, under Ash's tutelage, honed his basic offensive and defensive techniques. Ash, however, steadfastly refused to teach him anything advanced. "Technique is an extension of the soul," she'd explained, her voice firm. "Copying another's style is a path to mediocrity. You must forge your own."
Vanta, ever diligent, practiced tirelessly outside. His improvement was noticeable, a marked difference from his clumsy beginnings. His movements, though still imperfect, held a newfound fluidity.
"You've improved, jumpy," Ash commented, her usual stoicism laced with a hint of approval.
"Thank you," Vanta replied, a flush warming his cheeks.
"Let's test your base and stance. Come at me." She produced her staff, a sleek obsidian rod, from her inventory, her own already held in her hand, a perfectly balanced extension of her being.
The sparring session that followed was a revelation. Ash played the defensive role, only intervening to correct his posture or movement, her counters swift and precise, each strike a testament to years of dedicated training. He felt the power of her technique, the grace, the lethal precision, the unwavering patience to find the perfect opening. Her stance was a fortress, impenetrable, yielding only to the inevitable counter. He was learning more in this one practice session than in all the previous days combined.
Suddenly, the world transformed. The warm afternoon light vanished, swallowed by a rapidly encroaching blizzard. The wind howled, a mournful keening that pierced through his clothes, the air growing bitterly cold, each breath a stinging assault on his lungs.
"What the hell is going on?" Vanta gasped, his breath clouding in the frigid air.
"It looks like the work of a monster," Ash replied, her usual calm replaced with a hint of genuine worry.
A monster. The word sent a shiver down Vanta's spine. He'd heard the whispers, the legends – tales of mutated beasts, their origins lost to time, possessing strange and terrifying abilities. These differed vastly from the abominations he was familiar with. Monsters were different, somehow more… fundamental.
"Let's go check it out," Ash declared, breaking through his apprehension.
"Are you nuts?" Vanta protested, but his words were lost to the wind as Ash was already moving, a shadow disappearing into the swirling snow.
What they found at the heart of the blizzard was shocking, a scene that defied belief at first. Yet, there it was, undeniable. A trail of blood, glistening crimson against the white expanse, led to two figures, a boy and a girl, locked in a desperate struggle.
Vanta's breath hitched in his throat. The boy... he recognized him instantly. Raymond Turquoise, the boy who'd saved him from the mysterious knife attack at school, his mid-length turquoise hair a stark contrast to the white snow. He was relatively unscathed, a few minor scratches and cuts barely marring his otherwise calm composure. His stance, despite the chaos around him, was poised, collected – almost unnervingly so. About fourteen, the same age as Vanta.
The girl was a different story entirely. Her long crimson hair was a wild tangle around her, her injuries far more serious. A broken arm, deep gashes across her chest, a bloody nose... but it was her expression that truly captivated Vanta. She wore a wide, almost manic smile, utterly unconcerned with her wounds, her blood staining the snow around her.
"I'll go and separate them," Ash said, her voice tight with purpose. "If this continues, they'll attract a horde."
Vanta simply nodded, his mind reeling. A fight? This was unexpected. But also... an opportunity. To see new techniques in action, to learn, to improve.
Ash approached the pair, her voice cutting through the blizzard's roar. "The both of you should stop fighting! Do you understand the implications of your actions? You'll attract more monsters!"
The crimson-haired girl tilted her head, her smile widening. "Who are you? You look so pretty," she said, her voice oddly melodious. "I'd like us to be friends. What color is your blood? How does it smell? I want to know."
'She's definitely crazy,' Vanta thought, a shiver crawling down his spine. This wasn't just a fight anymore; this was something far more unsettling.
Ignoring the boy, the girl launched herself at Ash, blade flashing. Ash dodged with effortless grace, landing a swift punch that sent the girl reeling.
"Oh my, what delicate fists," the girl giggled, blood trickling down her nose. "This is exciting. I bet you'll look even better covered in blood." She engaged Ash, her movements erratic yet somehow effective.
"Sadistic and a masochist. What a sad combo," Ash observed, creating distance. "But I'll have to restrain you for the time being. UNDEAD SHADOW PAINTING: SHADOW LEGION!"
Shadows coalesced around Ash, forming a legion of shadowy soldiers—some geared for war, some mounted on spectral steeds, others monstrous in form.
"Nice, nice," the girl commented, unfazed. "But not good enough. BLOOD CELL PAINTING: CELL HUMANOID!"
From her spilled blood, small, humanoid figures materialized, red and fast, replicating her form but smaller. They surged towards Ash's shadow legion.
The ensuing battle was a whirlwind of chaos. Ash's legion clashed with the crimson humanoids, a bizarre spectacle of shadows and blood.
"I was right," Ash muttered, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She observed that the girl never truly blocked an attack, evading them only when absolutely necessary. Seizing an opening, a humanoid snuck up on Ash and dissolved into her.
A searing pain wracked Ash. "Gotcha," the girl shrieked, laughing. "BLOOD FLAME PAINTING: BURNING BLOOD!"
The blood burned Ash, an agonizing fire without flames, like countless bee stings simultaneously. She groaned, her face contorted in pain.
"Scream for me," the girl commanded, her laughter echoing through the blizzard.
'Our abilities are back?' Vanta murmured, his eyes widening in disbelief. This wasn't just a fight anymore; this was a clash of extraordinary powers. This wasn't just a fight; it was a revelation. He had to observe, to learn. This was a masterclass in combat he couldn't afford to miss. His eyes were glued to their every move.