Usually the fights between the father and son pair were done in private. Either after a long day of training or at random. At first, King was utterly terrified by the swords battering him down. He wasn’t experienced enough before. However, as time passed and as his skills increased, he found fun in the battles. Not only was it good practice for King to face an entity that was more powerful for him, but it heightened his expectations of what a good rival would be.

Now, for Galain to have announced their fight in front of an audience, this meant that he wanted to showcase his true powers in front of everyone. After all, the only person he could truly fight against in this village was King. Everyone else wasn’t up-to-par for they did not possess the same level as these two. King also expected that this fight tied into his true punishment for last night’s adventure. In other words: father wanted to humiliate him whilst maintaining his position in power.

What great parenting.

Either way, King was ready for the challenge.

The only reason to why he was able to go head-to-head with the old man was not because of strength but his agility, stamina, analysis, and his ability to think ahead. As his father was his teacher, the base structure of their fighting styles were similar. It was their competencies that separated their true strengths.

Now, although King was talented in various aspects, Galain’s strength and experience were too overpowering to handle. He had fought thousands upon thousands of individuals during his lifetime. After all, he was quite famous during his mercenary days, especially for a non-gifted. He fought for justice and was regarded highly by regular civilians and even the real King. He was considered a symbol of strength for those who weren’t blessed with gifted powers.

On the other hand, King’s experience with fighting people was lacking. Other than random adventurers who scattered the land or bandits, he hadn’t fought with many individuals.

Plus, he was homeschooled by his father and the other students did not hold a finger to him. He couldn’t fight the helpless, that wouldn’t sharpen his skills at all.

One of the girl students whispered to her friend. “Who do you think is going to win.”

He grunted. “Isn’t it obviously going to be teacher? From what teacher told us, King always loses. This game is going to be the same.”

“I don’t know,” the girl said. She glanced over at King, her cheeks blushing with pink. “I’m going to cheer for King.”

“That’s only because you like him. Not because you think he’s going to win,” the boy retorted. He narrowed his eyes. “Why do all the girls like that dude. He isn’t even that good-looking.”

“Are you jealous?” She asked while batting her eyelashes. “He’s the best looking guy in our village! Besides, it’s not just because I like him. King is wickedly talented too you know. He’s going to catch up.”

“Whatever.”

Unaware of the conversations sprouting from the audience, the two stood a few large steps away from each other; their attention unwavered.

On King’s chest, protective armor was placed in case of injuries. Though there was no doubt he’d suffer a few cuts and bruises anyways, the piece protected him from death rather than pain

The rules of the fight was simple:

Control your aim and strength so that the tip doesn’t pierce through the armor. Instead of using the sharp edges to hit your opponent, use the other sides of the blades where the sharpness is duller. Killing isn’t a win. It’s bringing upon a situation where your opponent could’ve died. The art of controlling your strength is also a talent for not every enemy should be killed in a battle. Some need to be battered up but kept alive.

King tightly gripped the sword in his hand, trying to predict who would make the first move. Father usually swung first; using the large sword to weaken him off first hit.

Would he continue with the same pattern or change things up?

Galain’s right foot changed direction, facing the left, signaling that he was going to take action. King smirked before taking a step back, lowering his upper body back to avoid the oncoming metal chunk.

Ah, the first move was always the easiest to predict.

Father had a weakness. Due to his large structure and power, his speed was slower than King’s, enabling the white-haired boy to avoid many advances without predictability.

“Too slow,” King said with a grin.

Another jab was sent his way, near his right shoulder. King swiftly avoided it by shifting his feet.

My turn. Due to the difference in lengths of their weapons; father’s being longer while his shorter, he had to reach closer to get a hit.

He ran forward, shifting to the right, before swinging his sword sideways towards his opponent’s lower body.

Their swords clashed resulting in a surge of friction, bringing him back. Knowing that this would occur, King embraced the impact and continued to make his way around his father, until he reached the back.

He was a few seconds ahead.

Then King proceeded to swing his sword from the left, aiming for the side.

“You think I wouldn’t see that coming?” Galain muttered before bringing his sword to defence, just seconds away from skin-contact.

A pained smirk appeared on King’s lips. Curse that old man! Why does he have so much experience. It’s not fair!

His feet skid backwards, arising a cloud of dirt in the air.

“Whatever!” King ran towards him, his sword over his shoulder.

CLANG. Sparks flew in the air.

King landed on his feet, his legs bent to keep balance.

Taking advantage of his son’s lack of strength, Galain swung his sword from top to bottom, aiming for the shoulder. King looked up, noticing the danger coming from the sky and brought his sword up.

Metal wobbled and fro; King grabbed onto the handle with both hands, trying to balance the movement. Damn. Father’s strength was too strong. An average fighter would’ve been brought to their knees, their feet digging into the grass.

“Tired yet,” Galain said with a grin while swinging.

“Oh please,” King replied. His arms close to his chest as he blocked. “I should be the one asking you. You’re the one aging, not me.”

Galain began his execution, continuously bringing down strikes. This was his signature move.

“If I were twenty-five years younger -,” Clang, “-I would’ve-,” Swish, “-Beaten you by now.”

The powerful swings impacted King’s arm, bringing tingles up his nerves. Death would be upon anyone else under that heavy weight. If King kept this up, eventually he would be the one at loss.

“Stop dreaming. I’ve surpassed your fourteen year old self.” He said with a pained smile.

Time passed and the blows increased. The students all watched with widened mouths. Amazement sprouted in their hearts, growing with each move. Even if they were to go to the Royal Military, no sword fight could compare to this. The amount of sheer strength and talent in view was enough to make a passerby faint.

The female student from before squealed. "Don't you think King might win this time?"

"Yeah right." The boy scoffed. "He's losing. It's been forever and he's being pelted blow and blow. He's going to give up sooner or later."

"I - um - I guess so," she said with a sigh. "But I believe he can persevere."

"Unlikely."

Every single hit was critical. The pain in King's arms increased due to the immense strength against him. He glanced around quickly in between the battle, analyzing the faces of the people around him. Seeing that the audience and his father were expecting for him to lose, King decided that he had enough of being driven to the corner.

It’s time for me to use my special move. He watched for an opening in his opponent’s lower body.

The beginning was merely a taste of what was to come. He had an elaborate move up his sleeve waiting to be released. All he needed was right timing as the execution had to be fast and used only once, for he knew father wouldn’t be surprised the second time around.

Since, it was his first time using this move. Ever. Not even having practiced it. He decided to roll with the plan anyways. Everything looked good in his head.

First, aim for his ankle. King bent down and swung his sword into an eclipse. He controlled his strength due to the fact that the ankles had no protection. When the metal hit, all it did was cause pain, not slicing through the skin due to the dullness of the edges.

Good. He didn’t want his father to lose his foot.

While he’s distracted by the pain, continue the momentum of the sword, spin around, and aim for the chest. King jumped up, spinning his torso while his feet lifted to a kick. Then he faced his opponent in the air, aiming for the chest.

“Fuck’in hell!” Galain cried before clenching his teeth. That smart bastard. He improved and thought this out didn’t he? The amount of improvement King showed everyday was hard to believe. Even he wasn’t this talented at that age.

Unfortunately, Galain was able to block King’s sword just in time.

King expected this.

With a smile, he kicked his leg up against his father’s arm to change the momentum to bring himself down to the ground. Due to the sudden shift in gravity and the impact making Galain’s arm rise up, he now had a new opening near his father’s stomach.

Checkmate.

Even when his feet reached the ground, his sword stayed against his father’s armor. The indentation on the metal plate made it clear who had won.