Teppei’s calm mind had long been shattered.

He dragged his feet through the dirt, adding momentum to his sword thrust. The stab possessed thought and intent, and his body reacted perfectly to the opportunity before him, yet all his edge met was air.

How?

No counterattack came after, despite there being a perfect chance.

Why?

At first, he thought it was due to the brat’s lack of skill. He imagined that being so young, and knowing such advanced spellcasting techniques meant his skill with a spear was mediocre, and that all which was keeping him intact was the high quality of his weapon, so even though Teppei was leaving obvious openings for someone of his own level, the brat was just unable to follow up on them.

But now…

Now he was beginning to see his mistake.

“How dare you?!” He shouted, as he slashed downwards only to be deflected to the side, the edge slipping through the ivory spear without leaving even a mark, his balance lost, his attack a waste. If his master had seen him make such a mistake, Teppei would have been imprisoned and whipped raw for a week. “How dare you use me as practice?!”

That was the only explanation. The brat had actually learnt throughout their clash, and was now choosing not to do anything. The way he parried, the way he sidestepped or deflected… it was as if Teppei was fighting an entirely different person now: all of his movements lacked any kind of hesitation, something no one so young should be able to do.

When he was his age… he could barely wield a knife. Yet the brat in front of him was handling a weapon about his size with such an ease it made him jealous.

That was talent. That thing he was supposed to have.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” Another slash, yet he met air all the same. The scene had repeated so many times, a part of his mind began to understand just how many times he’d died.

As soon as he realized that, something in him broke.

He stabbed, yet met air. Next, he felt how his neck was severed from back to front.

He followed with an horizontal slash, twisting his wrist, yet was blocked and lost an arm. So he imagined it. So he felt it.

The other arm, lost.

His right leg, severed.

His guts, spilled.

His left shoulder, pierced.

His right, the same.

All the while, Avaln’s gaze was calm, almost too calm, and a glint could be seen in that purple, a glint of comprehension and focus. There was no exhaustion in his steps nor breathing, and seemed like nothing could sway the intent of those eyes which weren’t looking at him, not really. He was but an object to be studied.

Such was the image Teppei conjured inside his mind.

And his imagination wasn’t too far from the truth. Avaln was indeed using him as practice, feeling how his own muscles were now in sync with his thoughts, seeing the openings his opponent was leaving and visualizing with keen sense how and where to strike, what move to use, how to chain it… all of this mental odyssey was, at the same time, being exposed in constant but small flares of killing intent that Teppei’s instincts could feel like the cold edge of a knife.

He died.

“...top.”

And died.

“Stop…”

And died.

“Stop!”

And that something that broke, broke again. Teppei’s sword fell to the ground, and his pride shattered with it. His knees met the trodden path in a small cloud of dust, and as he stared at his hands as if he couldn’t believe they were still attached, he noticed how his vision blurred in tears, not understanding anything anymore.

“Don’t worry.” Avaln said then. “I’ll make it painless.”

The movement was swift, and so simple it couldn’t even be called a technique, yet the precision of his strike was keen, and Teppei couldn’t but stare dumbfounded at the spear that had pierced his chest, and heart, before his arms fell as if stringless on his sides, his blurred vision going completely black.

That was… too easy. Avaln thought then, bemused, the spear spinning in his grip to get rid of the blood.

Why did he suddenly lose all will to fight? Avaln had been so focused on learning, he never spared a glance to his opponent’s state of mind.

Yet he soon realized he had no time to wonder.

Mira, a few tens of steps away, didn’t have the luxury of watching his fight.

Keiner struck again, slightly faster than before, throwing her senses out of whack. The edge managed to cut her shoulder, not too deeply, but just enough to reopen the almost healed wound she had from before. Her body didn’t have the time to warn her about it, for the rush and the impending death forced her to watch that edge reach for her gut in a stab she had to deflect by punching the flat of the blade as she sidestepped, adding force to the blow…

Yet Keiner used the momentum to spin on his heels, waiting for it, and slashed at neck height, severing Mira’s head…

But her figure dissipated in mist, once again, and the swordsman couldn’t but show the awe such technique caused in him. “Dear venerable, you are going to die anyway, why not teach me how you do that?”

His gaze fell on the reappearing Mira, a few steps away, whose hand was now clutching her chest, her complexion slightly pale. She, however, just sneered. “I’m old, not stupid.”

Keiner nodded, then shortened the distance in a blur of killing intent, not giving her time to recover. Yet Mira was waiting for that, and stepped forward, fast, with purpose, stomping the ground and provoking a tremor to travel and shake a zone right in front of her. Although he saw it coming, he had to stop his momentum in a hurry, leaving him open for Mira’s punch to the torso.

Knuckles met the flat of a blade, and the force behind it was a hair too weak. Kiener regained his balance and stepped forward, tracing a diagonal descending slash meant to sever Mira’s arm, yet to his surprise he met only air.

After fighting him for so many breaths, Mira had learnt some of his habits. Their difference in overall strength was high, yet so was their experience. As she sidestepped to avoid the blow, she saw the next twist of the wrist Kiener would make to turn his attack in an horizontal slash, so she spun on her heels and focused her Essence into a back punch to Keiner’s head.

She just made one mistake.

She let her body move before her mind.

After having used her mist technique, the toll on her had yet to disappear, and despite it she threw herself into a counterattack in the hope of catching Keiner with his guard down, and it had been the right decision…

Yet during their whole fight, Keiner made sure to stack wound after wound, not too lethal, not too painful, waiting for the moment Mira’s bleeding would catch up to her.

And she knew it, but her body moved on its own, aided by the muscle memory of her fighting style and the urge of gaining the upper hand, of finally catching a glimpse of hope in their all too dire situation.

Avaln was fighting against someone of a higher realm.

She was fighting someone of a higher realm.

How were they supposed to save the village, and their loved ones, against such odds?

And so, her body spun, the back of her hand gaining momentum… but her consciousness waned due to blood loss. She lost her balance, and gave Keiner enough time to crouch, avoiding her blow… and continue that horizontal slash towards her sides, turning as he did so.

Mira let out a cry of pain there, for the first time, and fell on one of her knees as her good hand sought to press her injury.

“Don’t feel bad, venerable.” The title had a thick irony attached to it. “Your girl shall never know what cut her head off.”

The edge was then lifted skywards, and as Kiener began to let its weight guide its path…

He heard them again, so, so clearly.

The bells of death.

Ivory flashed through the corner of his left eye, and a metallic high-pitched sound followed as his instincts saved him, for the second time. A spear, deflected, flew up in the air, yet its path was altered unnaturally by some unknown force as it spun, returning to the hand of its owner.

Keiner stared at Avaln in disbelief, and only then realized that his reaction made him take five steps away from Mira, who was now behind the young-man. He examined him then, and saw he’d suffered only a few superficial wounds, barely bleeding. In fact, not even his breathing seemed heavy, as if he never fought anyone in the first place. Only a glance sufficed him to know the abandoned body far behind his figure had to be his subordinate.

“What a fucking waste.” He muttered as anger flared in his throat.

Mira, in the meantime, stared at Avaln’s back while still clutching her sides. Somehow, that young man had saved her twice, even if the first time was not as direct as the second. And now…

She was wondering if she could leave everything to him.

But the very notion seemed impossible. She was just one realm beneath Kiener and couldn’t do anything against him, so how could someone who had just advanced, be his opponent? There was just no way, even if she regarded him highly, knowing he could hold his ground against someone stronger.

The very fact that he was standing there now was proof enough.

Only then she realized Avaln was still in perfect shape.

“H-How…?” She muttered, her stern expression broken by something close to hope.

“Mira, I trust you.” Were his words then, not daring to set his gaze away.

Next, he lunged himself against Keiner.

Mira stared at that back, her consciousness blank, almost drawing a picture she brought out from a not so distant memory.

“Master is like a young bird learning to fly... “There was a hint of reproach in her pale blue eyes as she spoke, “I’m afraid his wings would break beneath a weight he shouldn’t have to carry.”

Are you sure, my lady? Mira thought, back in the present. They seem quite tough to me. Those wings.

Bone met steel, yet no blood was drawn.

Avaln retracted the spear, and almost had no time to react when Keiner closed the distance, entering his range, denying him the advantage of possessing a larger weapon, and slipped his sword through the ivory shaft as if to lock it in place. Yet Avaln reacted nonetheless. He adjusted his grip and performed Snake bites the neck while jumping backwards, his mind long understanding the why of its name, coiling the spear around Kiener’s arm, forcing him to step away yet still gnashing his clothes on the way.

The exchange came to a halt then, Avaln’s stance ready, centre low, point of the spear even lower, ready to slash up. Keiner, however, stared at the gnash on his clothes as if dreaming, his seventh sense keeping track of his opponent, as his mind tried to regain its calm after being almost injured.

The same question he’d been asking himself since he met that young man, resounded inside his mind.

That has to be it. He thought then, when recalling the two sneak attacks he suffered at Avaln’s hands. He had an incredible thrust speed and that was possibly the only technique, together with his throw, he’d ever practised, taking them to perfection. To do so at such a young age was remarkable, yet it also limited his choices and could potentially stiffen his form.

But that was not the only discipline he was skilled at. He also knew spellcasting, that must mean he casted some sort of spell before facing him. In fact, that explained why the spear seemed to return to his hands as if possessed, and could also explain the strength behind his thrusts and throws.

Both of them caught him by surprise, and right now, while still shocked, his reaction had been an instant slower than usual, which is why his clothes got messed up.

That must be it. He repeated, and somehow found a calmer state of mind.

There was only one thing that defied explanation in his mind, as his eyes met the purple gaze of that young man. That thick killing intent.

How was it possible?

If Keiner wasn’t a peak Tempered Essence realm adventurer, he would have probably been affected by it, as a sharp intent could easily penetrate into an opponent’s mind, causing chaos. In fact, he could easily surmise that was the reason for Teppei’s death, for despite being a minor realm higher than Avaln, the boy had never met an opponent with such powerful intent.

The question, again, was how. It was clear the young man wasn’t able to wield it, and it would just flare whenever his emotions got the better of him. To hide or point one’s intent was something incredibly hard, after all, and Keiner himself had only learnt to defend against it, as any seasoned adventurer needed to do.

His master once told him killing intent could be honed against a sharper one, like an ancient method of blade-forging. Such a thing would only happen when facing a true master in serious combat, so only those with equal power could benefit from it. That was the reason why disciples were unable to train theirs except through experience, for facing a killing intent far beyond one’s own would not leave one’s mind unscathed.

Besides, what master would be so cruel as to expose their proteges to death, constantly, every day?

However, he told himself, that wasn’t the issue right now. Right now, he needed to come up with some way to end this fight swiftly, efficiently. His mission depended on it.

And despite the many qualities his opponent seemed to have, he was, after all, still too young.

That was something he could exploit.

“I must applaud you.” Keiner said then, his sword low, yet ready. His back straight, yet not tense. “You are incredibly talented. Are you sure you won’t reconsider my offer? We could even negotiate Alary’s life.”

Avaln squinted his eyes when hearing the name.

“Interested? I haven’t seen her myself…” He smiled then, and there was something ugly in that smile. “But they say she is a real beauty. I bet that’s what made you so angry. You know, I could spare her. I could even give her to you, tied up and obedient.”

A cold sensation rose up from Avaln’s lungs, yet he held it in.

“Of course, to do that… “The smile widened, and Keiner’s eyes flashed with desire. “I’d need to tame her myself first.”

Avaln’s Essence swelled inside the muscles of his legs, and kicked the ground in another thrust.

That was the action right before blood was finally spilled.