"Well, you'd better draw that training sword of yours. You still have a long way to go if you want to be at the level of even the junior synners, big brother," Irun said, drawing his own. Athar nodded, drawing his guard and putting it into his guard immediately. "Begin," Irun said, immediately dashing in for a downward slash aimed at Athar's face.
Athar, just barely able to deflect the blow off to his right, used the momentum carried through his own blade to whirl it around and bring the tip to the front once more, lunging at his opponent. Irun saw it coming, and gripped the training sword's faux blade and quickly brought it into a position to fend off the lunge. Desperately pushing with both hands and having to turn his head, Irun twisted his elbow downward, aiming a pommel strike at Athar's face.
With a grunt, Athar bore the brunt of the blow on his cheekbone, but remained focused on the task at hand. With a swift push of his own pommel, he managed to get the blow into a downward slash position. Irun countered this move by pushing an Exar spell straight into Athar's midsection, forcing his downward strike to hit nothing but folded air.
Cheater, Athar thought, regaining his footing and shooting Irun a wry smile.
Let's see if he can handle this, he thought, pushing dark mana into his training sword.
Even though it's a dull blade, that spell is still going to sting. I've gotta be careful, Irun thought, observing the channeled mana form into a similar spell to that which was taught at Codrean.
With his sword emanating dark mana, Athar dashed forward, preparing a wide slash. Irun parried the first, and was immediately forced to deflect a rapid succession of slices aimed for his center of mass. "You're getting faster, but it's still not enough," he said, grinning lightly. He furrowed his brow in concentration, and began reacting to Athar's blows before they could even fully manifest. He allowed one of the blows to slip by him, catching Athar off guard, and grabbed him by the collar of his black tunic, throwing him off balance. Athar's eyes opened wide, as he realized what was happening.
I can't regain my balance in time, he thought, instantly regretting making that last swing.
With a quick jolt of force, he was knocked to the ground with such a force, it caused the stone floor to crack slightly. Air fled Athar's lungs, as the shockwave of the hit reverberated through his bones. A small spurt of blood flew from his mouth, as he gazed up at his opponent.
The dust kicked up from their quick bout began to settle, as Athar struggled for air. "You're… too… fast," he said between wheezes and gasps for air. "And you're not using your mana to your advantage. Try reinforcing your movements with a little bit of mana at the joints. You'll move much more quickly, and maybe even be able to keep up," Irun replied, extending a hand out.
Athar took the hand, and was brought to his feet, dusting himself off once more. "You're not bad for someone who only started swinging a sword a few months ago," Irun admitted. "I'm just doing exactly what you're telling me to do," Athar replied. "I've spent so long in the Masked One's service, I've gotten pretty good at following orders," he continued, rubbing the back of his head.
"One day, I hope to be good enough to beat you," Athar said, pursing his lips and firmly nodding his head. "That will be my goal while we train," he continued. "It's a good goal to have, but there are plenty of people more powerful than me you might have to face one day," Irun replied.
I don't want to discourage him, and I hope he notices that, he thought.
Athar, after a moment's consideration, understood his brother's words. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. "One more round?" Irun asked, a wry grin showing on his face. "Yeah, just uh… don't slam me so hard next time," Athar said, a nervous smile showing on his face, still rubbing the back of his head.
Drip.
Karak, who had been observing them this entire time, snorted softly.
It would seem these two have made a pact, but how will the Masked One take this information? Did he foresee this happening? Is this all a part of his plans? I should let him know, regardless, the daemon thought.
He turned his misshapen body with more speed than his physical form suggested he had, and moved back towards the summoning hall where the Masked One held a meeting with Volzuk, the Undergod.