The robot moved. It was a sudden blur of motion as its blade slashed forward in a fluid and brutal technique. Aaron's body reacted before conscious thought could catch up. His sword rose to meet the strike, the clash resonating in his bones.
He pivoted, stepping inside the robot's guard to redirect its momentum. A counterstrike followed, the edge of his blade slicing through the narrow gap it left exposed.
He didn't stop. Combat wasn't about singular moments but the seamless chain of actions. His strikes came faster, sharper, the basics interwoven with his rhythm.
It was as if the air around him came alive, his every movement carving through it with purpose.
The robot adapted, its sword art shifting mid-combat. Its attacks grew more intricate, more demanding. Aaron welcomed the challenge, his expression unchanging even as his heart thrummed with exertion. Sweat beaded on his brow, but his grip never faltered. He was in his element.
Here, in the solitude of the training room, there were no jeering crowds. No whispered mockery. No expectations weighing on his shoulders. There was only the clash of steel, the rhythm of combat, and the endless pursuit of mastery.
Aaron moved as though the world beyond this chamber didn't exist. In this moment, he wasn't the "disgrace" of the Solarius family. He was a swordsman, nothing more, nothing less. And that was enough.
The hiss of steel on steel filled the room as the robot adjusted its stance, blade gleaming ominously. A faint hum emanated from its core, the precursor to its next move.
Aaron's stance deepened, Crescent Dance flowing through his veins like a second heartbeat. His grip tightened on the hilt, knuckles whitening.
The robot surged forward, its sword igniting in a blur of speed and precision. Obsidian Storm.
A cascade of strikes descended upon Aaron, each blow calculated to dismantle his defense. High, low, center, the attacks rained from every conceivable angle, a storm of shimmering steel.
Sparks erupted as Aaron met the onslaught, Lunar Shield a sword movement blooming into motion. Tight, circular arcs deflected the strikes, each interception flowing seamlessly into the next.
But the storm pressed on. A high slash met his blade with a jarring clang, forcing his arm downward. A low thrust aimed for his ribs barely evaded. A shallow cut scored across his shoulder as he spun to regain his footing, the pain sharp and searing.
The robot advanced relentlessly, its strikes growing faster and more unpredictable. Aaron gritted his teeth, sweat streaking down his face.
His blade danced, alternating between rapid parries and counter-slashes. A faint ripple in the air warned him of an overhead strike; he sidestepped and retaliated with Crescent Sweep, forcing the robot to retreat momentarily.
But the reprieve was short-lived. The next wave of Obsidian Storm came like vengeance, the blade moving so fast it seemed to split into multiple edges. Aaron's Lunar shield defense movement faltered under the relentless pressure. Another slash grazed his thigh, the fabric of his training suit darkening with blood. He staggered, barely avoiding a thrust aimed at his chest. He was being cornered.
Aaron's breath came in ragged gasps. His mind raced as his blade trembled slightly in his grasp. The robot was faster, stronger, and unyielding, its mechanical precision leaving no room for error. He could feel the weight of every passing second, every strike he barely parried. A single mistake and this battle would end in his loss.
After his awakening, he vowed never to lose again. But the reality is rarely so simple. He tasted defeat many times after making that promise, yet none of it mattered to him. Each loss was a spark, fueling a fire within. His resolve to win now burns brighter than the weight of every battle he's lost.
He gritted his teeth, his resolve hardening.
If he couldn't overcome this robot, how could he possibly face Thane and others who loomed as unscalable walls?
Tomorrow, they rescheduled the ranking match, but tomorrow wasn't just about the fight. It wasn't just about his rank. Tomorrow is his birthday.
Aaron had almost forgotten in the chaos of preparation, in the endless cycle of training, enduring, and proving himself. Tomorrow would mark another year under the Solarius name, a name that felt heavier with each passing day.
But as he stood there, blade in hand, his blood staining the ground, Aaron wanted to gift himself tomorrow's victory as his birthday present.
But What he didn't know was that tomorrow would be his last day as a Solarius.
He didn't know that fate had plans for him, plans that would set him on a path far beyond the name he was fighting to uphold.
Right now, none of the chaotic thoughts mattered.
His focus narrowed, the edges of the room blurring as the robot advanced again. Sparks flew as their blades clashed, the screech of metal on metal ringing in his ears. Pain flared in his thigh, and his shoulder burned, but Aaron pushed it all aside.
The future could wait.
He had to win this fight.
Because if he didn't, if he faltered here, tomorrow wouldn't matter.
But he was Aaron a proud swordsman.
He couldn't afford to lose.
As the robot lunged again, Aaron's grip adjusted. The pain in his body faded into the background, replaced by a sharp clarity. His senses expanded, the world narrowing to the faint hum of servos, the whistling arc of the blade, and the subtle shifts in the air.
The moment the robot struck,
Aaron moved.
Phantom Crescent wove into his stance, his blade shifting mid-motion to deceive. The robot's strike veered slightly off course, grazing past his side. Exploiting the opening, Aaron retaliated with a vicious Crescent Sweep, his blade cutting through the air in a broad arc. Sparks erupted as steel met steel, forcing the robot onto the defensive for the first time.
He pressed the advantage.
Blade surged through him like a tide. His movements were a relentless rhythm of offense and defense, forcing the robot to adapt to his pace. High slashes transitioned into parries, thrusts melded into feints. Every step he took was deliberate, each strike a calculated maneuver to exploit the smallest weakness.
The robot retaliated with another barrage, its strikes faster and more precise. But Aaron was ready.
He let the rhythm guide him, Lunar Shield absorbing the onslaught before spinning into Moonlit Reversal. As the robot committed to an overhead strike, Aaron deflected its blade and twisted, using its momentum against it. His counter-strike was precise, carving a deep gouge into the robot's shoulder joint.
The machine faltered.
Aaron didn't hesitate.
Crescent Sweep transitioned into Falling Arc, his blade descending in a powerful, fluid motion. The strike connected with a resounding crash, forcing the robot to stumble back.
But Aaron wasn't done.
Using Flow Break, he disengaged momentarily, repositioning himself to face the robot head-on. His breathing was heavy, his body screaming in protest, but his mind was sharp.
As the robot recalibrated, Aaron's grip tightened once more. He stepped forward, the glow of determination in his eyes.
"This ends now."
With a burst of speed, Aaron surged forward, his blade a blur of motion. The final sequence of Crescent Dance unfolded like a symphony strike after strike flowed seamlessly, each one more precise than the last.
The robot tried to retaliate with one final thrust, but Aaron's Moonlit Reversal met it head-on. Deflecting the attack with surgical precision, he drove his blade forward in a decisive counter.
The robot froze, it dropped the sword. Then, with a faint hiss, it powered down.
Aaron stood tall, chest heaving, blood dripping from his wounds. His blade trembled in his grasp, but he didn't let go.
He had won.
Not because he was faster or stronger, but because he was Aaron, a master of his art, a warrior who thrived in the chaos of battle.
And no one, not even a machine, could take that away from him.
***
As Aaron exited the training room, he noticed Cindy standing by the gates, Her long silver hair fluttered in the breeze as she turned and waved at him, her smile warm and easy.
"Hey, Aaron! That was some intense training, huh?" Cindy called out, her voice bright.
Aaron nodded,
Cindy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Right. Well, since you're done, how about we grab a coffee? It's been a while since we've just hung out."
Aaron hesitated for a moment, but.
He nodded. "Sure, A coffee sounds good."