Ollowyn wanted to get ready to fight as well. To fight for his pack, that was self evident for him. But Thasun shoved him aside and ordered him to sit down at the edge of the road. He wanted to take this fight alone. Curious, yet still concerned, the boy sat down on a fallen tree trunk and observed.

“Do you wish to fight against me at the same time, or should I kill you one after another?” Thasun asked with a cocky grin.

The younger of the two swordsmen, a man with a short beard and a scar on his forehead, drew his weapon. It was a dark Katana, clearly forged of Duraksteel. Only a slight gleam of blue and white lines showed where the steel has been folded again and again. A expensive sword. For Ollowyn, however, the blade only looked beautiful and dangerous. Since the boy had no notion of economics or weapons at all.

Thasun tilted his head a little in admiration. “Neat little sword you got there. May I take it from your dead body? Or do you want to pass it on to someone?”

His opponent laughed. “My name is Rothar Lindan and if you are able to kill me and my brother Koltor, who is even more talented than I am, you may have it. I have no heir.”

Ollowyn watched as Thasun nodded at his resolved opponent and drew his own katana. The weapon was forged from common steel.

The brother stepped back a few feet to give the to warriors their fighting space. Common courtesy, yet Ollowyn found it strange. Why did they not fight as a team? As a pack, like logic demanded?

But the aura that emitted from the impending fight had something mystical. Sublimity. It was the first time the boy would observe a true swordsman fight and he hoped that Thasun would not lose. He liked his new pack leader, after all.

Rothar occupied a raised position, with his hands tightly gripping his sword, raised high over his head. He anticipated his opponent’s attack. Thasun however carried his katana in his right hand, the blade hovering only a handbreadth above the ground.

“Ready?” Thasun inquired.

“Ready.” With both fighter’s acknowledgement the duell began.

Thasun let his body keel over and crossed the distance towards his opponent with a sharp dash, so fast, that Ollowyn was taken by surprise. The steelsword shot upwards in perfect motion and impacted with the descending Duraksteel katana of Rothar.

A sharp metallic noise resounded through the forest as both blades were pushed away from each other a few centimeters, impact leaving a deep notch in the steel sword.

“Tch.” Thasun hissed, apparently unsatisfied, and jumped back to reposition.

Ollowyn was surprised that his pack leader was even able to counter a two handed attack with only his right. This time Thasun raised the weapon to shoulder height, in stabbing position. He did not waste any time and dashed for another attack.

The dark sword was driven down again, this time Thasun evaded with a sidestep to the right. He leaned in to grab Rothar’s wrists with his left Hand, while is right brought the sword in for a stab. Rothar however did not remain idle. He brought his knee up to kick Thasun’s left arm and the resulting turning motion denied a deadly blow.

Still, the blade found its way deep into the upper arm of his opponent. The knee blow however was not enough to loosen Thasun’s iron grip, who brought his left foot laterally at the knee of Rothar. As the only foot remaining on the ground it broke in twisting motion under the impact and body weight of its owner. While he fell, Thasun repositioned, pulled his sword out of the upper arm and brought it down on him with a heavy, two handed strike. It broke through the ribcage and sunk in deep into Rothar’s thorax.

The whole fight had barely lasted for twenty seconds and a dying Rothar lied on the ground.

“Urgh.” He panted tiredly before he continued with his last strength. “E-End it. It was a h-honor fighting you!”

Thasun stepped over him and sunk the tip of his blade deep into the heart of his opponent that made his last breath.

His brother, Koltor showed a pained facial expression. “Rest in peace, brother.”

Then his face darkened and he glared at Thasun. “He always fought in my stead to prove himself. Even though he was weaker than me. Yet I can’t claim that I was prepared for his death in the slightest…”

Koltor drew his own Katana. Also forged of duraksteel. A rich family. Thasun wasted no time and attacked. It appeared obvious that his opponent was ready, as he assumed the same stance his brother had. Again the two blades clashed as the dark weapon descended upon the rising steel blade. A heavy impact later another notch was visible on Thasun’s weapon.

This time, however, the fight lasted considerably longer. He was able to evade the downward motion of Koltor, as he had with his brother, yet his footwork proved too much to get into grabbing or stabbing position easily, before he fell back to his sword-held-high base stance.

Stabs were deflected in the same fashion as blows, knocked down from above it destroyed every attack. More and more dents and notches formed in the front third of Thasun’s steel katana. Until the inevitable happened. The front part split off and shot past Koltors face, leaving only a bloody stream on his left cheek.

However, Thasun did not surrender at all. His face was calm and serene and only a slight smile showed that he enjoyed the bout. “Hahaha. You really are more talented than your brother. But say, you wanted to challenge the sword fighting school of Ritto Iordai, didn’t you?”

Thasun made a quick dashing sidestep forward and hit his enemy with all his power. The now shortened sword impacted the descending black duraksteel katana and drove his opponent back a few steps.

Having completely overwhelmed his opponent for a moment a dark and sinister grin showed on Thasun’s face. “First Style. Iordai Korduí.”

Koltor held his katana defensively again and waited alerted for the next attack. Again Thasun attacked in his usual upwards motion. But before the two blades contacted, he suddenly stood much closer to Koltor, driving the tip of his blade against the descending swords handle.

The attack from the side blew the black sword away, resulting in a large opening in Koltor’s stance. A resulting quick backhand stroke against him was inevitable. Jumping back the now shortened steel sword ripped through his nasal bone, tore into his cheek and exited again, leaving him just barely alive.

“Gah!” With a wide strike he tried to keep Thasun away, but the swordmaster had not pursued to end the fight.

“Impressive. I was hardly able to follow that movement. A impressive sidestep, indeed.” Koltor spoke, while flinching in pain.

And much less he could have blocked such a move. But this thought Koltor kept to himself. “Truly, I see now why Ritto Iordai is still holding such a high position after all these years.”

He raised his sleeve to soak up the blood that oozed off the wound. Taking a few deep breaths he straightened his back. “I will carry this wound with honor, should I survive. Show me another style of the great master. Please!” His gaze full of determination.

Thasun smiled, almost happily. “Respectful now, huh? That’s good.”

He raised his sword behind his body. Again the blade hovered only a handbreadth over the ground. “Second Style. Iordai Zenzen.”

He was still five meters away from Koltor, yet he already jumped forward with a deep step and fell to his left knee as he let his katana rush forward. Still four meters away. A attack into the void. For a moment Koltor made a dumbfounded face, then a gentle blow of wind ripped open his right shoulder, tore slightly less deep into his thorax and left a small cut on his left hand. Koltor fell to his knees is pain and then collapsed backwards.

Thasun stood up and strode forward towards his now crippled opponent. “Iordai teaches forgiveness in reason. I will overlook your transgressions and insults. You will likely survive this.”

Then he stooped down to pick up the black katana and bandaged the bleeding areas. “Whenever others ask, tell them of the greatness our school possessed. Too many throw their lives away whenever they underestimate or judge over us lightly…”

Koltor was still shocked. “W-What. How? How is this possible?”

“Hahaha. Come Ollowyn. We are leaving.” Thasun laughed.

The boy however showed a curious face. The fight had fascinated him. Thasun had to smirk. He had been like that once a long time ago as well. He knew the blade would call to the boy now. This kind of obsession was hard to suppress. Ollowyn stepped closer to the dead Rothar. He took the dark katana and the sheath and observed the weapon.

What would the boy do now? Thasun eyed him thoughtfully, while the boy strapped the far too large sword sheath to his right hip. Then he raised to sword with one hand and held it behind his body. Iordai Zenzen? Thasun wanted to step in instinctively, but curiosity held him back. There was no way the boy could... right? The focused gaze in Ollowyn’s eyes however encouraged him to observe.

Then the boy brought the blade forward in perfect motion with a speed that matched Thasun’s own. The base technique, fulfilled to perfection, with every motion being a work of art, the child landed elegantly on his left knee. It was impressive that Ollowyn was able to imitate Thasun so completely after only seeing it once. But then something happened that Thasun would have never expected in his wildest dreams.

A force of wind pushed past him and ripped a deep scar in the base of a large acorn tree trunk. Almost four centimeters deep.

Such a attack would have killed or at least mortally wounded a human person. The child was a natural. No. A genius that appears only once every one hundred years. “Is he actually a demon?” Thasun thought. A shiver ran through his body.

“Aaaah! Aaargh! Aah!” screamed Ollowyn.

He had imitated the attack of his pack leader, like he had done every time back when he was still with his family. Learning so he could fight for a higher rank. This time however there was intense pain when he tried to stand up. A indescribable sting shot from his leg throughout his back into his arms. His entire body hurt incredibly.

Immediately Thasun was over him. Ollowyn’s body cramped and waves of pain drew through his body again. What was that? It hurt so much! His pack leader looked at him with a grim expression.

“Thought so. Too good to be true, huh? Should have stopped you from doing that.” He looked apologetically . “Sorry in advance.”

Then he rammed the hilt of his katana to the temple of Ollowyn. Everything went dark.

Hours later the kid regained consciousness. His legs were bound together in a improvised stretcher that got dragged along the dusty road by Thasun that was not far steeper than before. Another wave of cramps and pain shot through his body and dragged him back to darkness.

This time he did not wake up under the open sky. He woke in a slightly darkened room, a older lady sat besides his bed, wrapping something cold around his legs. It felt good. A little relaxed he grit his teeth and sunk back. For the first time in his life he lied on something strangely soft.

It remembered him a little on the warm fur of his foster mother, on which he had fallen asleep countless times. Only far softer and it did not smell of wolf. Ollowyn missed that. Still that memory triggered sleep and led him into the land of dreams.

He dreamed of the events that took place the last few days. Especially yesterday had left a lasting impression. As a member of a wolf pack he had killed before, ripped into warm flesh with his teeth to quell his hunger, they even killed a lonely hunter in a frosty winter night to survive. But this new way of fighting, this way of proving one's strength and skill? This was new.

Ollowyn wanted to know what it meant to be strong. Could be fight those warriors too? Carry a blade that skillfully? He had tried. Again and again the moment resounded in his head, when he held the duraksteel katana. The shimmering black weapon that screamed to him to be used. How he imitated the attack his pack leader had used earlier and how he had crippled himself that way.

What would he have to do to be strong enough to use such a skill? The need to improve, to learn and to prove himself, got stronger and stronger as the events unfolded again and again within his dreams.