-- James --

The fight began, and we both moved. There was no witty banter, no staring at each other measuring each up. There was only the rhythm, and chaos of battle. I like to think of the fight as a dance, as my guilds fighting tends to be slightly unconventional. We don't always fight straight on. It's all about using the entire area all-around your opponent. Never stopping. It was how I learned, dancing would be a great asset to my fighting style.

I don't mention it to the group because I don't think they would ever let it go, probably making jokes about it. Also, I don't think they would really understand when I say fighting is like dancing.

The thing everyone forgets about dancing is it's not about the music. It's not about flashy moves or intricate choreography. It's about flowing, movement, exploring your surroundings. I have seen people use dance to fight in movies and found that in real life that shit is ridiculous. So much wasted movement, with no purpose except maybe to look good. Though the thing they did get right was how if you learn to incorporate dance into your fighting style, you become much more unpredictable, and I need every edge I could get.

Hawthorn's sword flashed towards my neck, as I spun and twisted under his forward sword. My eyes followed his off-hand weapon racing to meet me too fast for me to dodge. But I was already lifting my sword, from low to high, to intercept and move my feet. His blade struck and I used the force to help push my body around to his side. Brining my body in too close for him or me to swing. The moment my foot planted I spun hooking his foot and dragging his stance wide and off-balance.

I could see Hawthorn's eyes widen, in surprise. We were fighting with swords, why would I use a sweep in a duel like this. Everything was moving by instinct I had no time to gloat or speak. I just needed this fight to end, then maybe we could figure this out.

The dance never stopped, and my tempo stayed steady. I was behind the man with my sword flowing towards his neck. Hawthorn, surprised me as he dropped below the strike, whirling around with a smile, bringing his own strikes with his movement. The way Hawthorn moved should have been impossible, as he contorted and balanced on a single foot, and twisted paradoxically with his torso spinning beyond two-hundred degrees. I felt a discordant note in the way he moved, and I missed a step barely blocking his strike, but the six other phantom blades following his attack hit their mark.

If I wasn't flooded with power, I think I would have lost an arm, but the mana cycling through me deadened the illusory strikes just enough for the cuts to only be superficial. I pushed off my sword, shoving Hawthorn back and opening up space, as I tried to understand what happened. Hawthorn seeing the surprise on my face began to laugh. "You're strong. Much stronger than you should be. But your skills are lacking."

Hawthorn didn't give me a moment to respond as he flew at me with a flurry of sword strikes. I was barely able to keep up, the man was highly skilled, and with his illusory strikes, I knew his swordsmanship level was well above twenty. I was still stuck at nineteen and had been stuck there for the last couple of months. I had been told hitting twenty was reaching the limits of natural human ability with the sword. I didn't know if it was possible to reach that level within a year, but with how much knowledge shoved in my brain I wondered.

Seeing the man's illusory strikes made me feel wanting. I knew to reach and surpass twenty I needed to somehow make my strikes, or sword magical, but my mind wouldn't open fully to it. I had been on the cusp of figuring it out, and it was just so frustrating I couldn't quite reach that last step. My sword was just so...stiff.

I weaved high my feet leaving the ground twisting around a set of strikes, only for small pieces to be sliced away as his illusory strikes were impossible to dodge. I didn't let the pain sway me as I tried to twist my sword into a strike. It wasn't fast enough nor nimble enough, as I needed. Having to awkwardly swing my weapon, and when it struck his sword all the power was missing.

I had tried so many different things to surpass myself; becoming one with the sword, by attempting to cycle power into the weapon. There was just one big problem, I couldn't bring the power out of my body. In fact, I could only do that with my words. Even then with limited success. There was something I was missing. Something simple, but how could a sword move like a reed on the wind and still be made of steel.

It was all I could do to just dance out of the man's attacks, or block his steel. My weapon rang and felt stiff in my hands as I attempted to block or parry his strikes. Somehow, during the fight, I was able to avoid a direct hit from the real blades, as I parried or dodged, but had varying success with the illusionary strikes.

We went for what felt like hours but knew it was only minutes, the entire time I was pushed back not even able to put up a great defense. All y counter-attacks were too slow and lacking might as he purposely kept me on my back foot. When I looked at Hawthorn, I knew he was still holding back. If he could do this. What else could he do?

I could barely hold on, blood dripping from hundreds of shallow cuts, already healing and closing. I was growing tired and my blade heavy, if only it could bend and move, and truly join me in the dance.

Something about that thought clicked with me, but I was too tired, and delirious, to understand. I was running on pure instinct as any coherent thoughts fled. But my mind kept jumping to the idea of the sword twisting and bending with me, moving and dancing. Till my mind forgot the sword couldn't bend and twist until the only thing was the dance.

I heard a ding inside my head, and the dance began to speed up and the tempo increased. I found myself blocking more of Hawthorn's attacks even, counterattacking with hard strikes. Once or twice I was able to knock him back, but that only made the man attack harder, and more skill. Eventually, he was no longer holding back, and before I knew it I was face down on the ground, foot in my back and a sword at my throat.

"That was a nice fight." Hawthorn said, not even slightly winded, "You got some skills and power. I mean breaking through..." Hawthorn shook his head with a laugh, before turning towards his boss, "If the rest of the questers are this good, then they can fight at the front."

I was panting, out of breath, and my mind fuzzy, thinking of course we could. I tried to move, but as I did I felt the cold steel and stopped. Maybe I should catch my breath.

I was fighting to keep my eyes open when the leader spoke, "Hmm...It was indeed impressive." The man said stroking his chin in thought, before turning to me, "So are you two going to come now?"

"Why? Because you can beat us up?" Violet said indignant, hand resting on her mace. She looked like she was about to attack blight the consequences.

"Violet." I wheezed out, begging with my eyes.

She turned startled at my voice, "You can't be serious."

I took a deep breath, "Aren't you curious?" I knew it was stupid as soon as I said it, but I was.

Violet glared at me for a long moment. She looked around at the people, sizing them up before she let out a long tired sigh. When she looked back at me she didn't look defeated or tired. Just curious, "How did we get into this mess?"

"Aaaaaahhhhhhh" Before I could say anything there was a loud scream.

The leader's men all pulled their swords at the noise looking for its source. "What was that?" The leader asked.

"Sounded like a scream," Hawthorn answered. While everyone including myself looked around. Though my vision was limited as I had a sword at my throat and couldn't really look up.

It wasn't until one of them looked up, and pointed did we find its source. Hawthorn was kind enough to let me roll my head to see the disturbance. There, falling from the sky was Aster with his sword out.

"What?" I said instinctively.

"GET AWAY FROM THEM!!" Aster screamed right before he crashed into the ground.