"You imbecile, are you even trying, Dread? You really are quite useless."
"I thought this was supposed to be training, not an insult session."
"I have not said anything that would qualify as an insult," Ophelia insisted, "I merely stated the objective truth of the world."
Mathew gave Argus a sidelong glance: "She knows exactly what she's doing, right?"
"Get back in your stances." Was all he said in response. Mathew sighed and did as he was told.
He held out his weapon in both hands. It was an ornate sword with a golden hilt and a rose-gold blade. Argus had lent the Blessing to him for training.
Ophelia, who stood 10 paces away, held her usual silvery sword with its mirror-like aesthetic. They had agreed that she wouldn't be allowed to use its special ability to draw in and expel light. Likewise, Mathew was forbidden from using the ability of his own borrowed blade.
Apparently, it could summon golden flames, which sounded impressive, but Mathew wouldn't get the chance to see it today, so it was no better than a regular sword.
Still, the Blessings were far superior to ordinary blades and could prove dangerous to normal people. Luckily, for Mathew, who could regenerate his wounds, and Ophelia, who wore her golden armor, there was little to be worried about.
"Ready?" Argus said, looking to one, then the other. He waited for a nod from Mathew and a grunt from Ophelia before he signaled with his hand for them to start.
Ophelia leaned forward slightly, her blade pointed at Mathew's throat as he moved towards her. If this were a real fight, he would have felt really cautious about closing the gap. But this was just training, and he was going to use it as an excuse to get in a few shots at his cruel master.
He stepped into a quick thrust, throwing in what he hoped was a convincing feint. Ophelia didn't even flinch at the movement.
Mathew then swung towards her right shoulder, trying to make contact with her armor.
Her sword slipped into the space between his blade and her body, blocking the strike. Then she stepped into the attack and hit him in the chest with the handle of her sword.
He stumbled back, trying to move into a better range, but she stuck to him like glue.
He threw himself sideways, twisting his body to get a hit in as he did so. Again, their blades crossed, this time Ophelia's blade sliding against his before she stabbed him in the throat.
He dropped his guard, coughing as his left hand went to cover the newly bleeding wound.
"Hey, are you trying to kill me?" He said.
"Can I?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Wait… Are you asking if you have the capability? Or are you asking for my permission?"
One corner of her mouth lifted up as she twirled her blade. "Shall we find out?"
Mathew tried to go for another attack, but even as he did so, he already knew what the result would be. The weapon felt so awkward in his hands, like holding a pen when you had never written before. Sure, he had enhanced speed and strength as someone of the 3rd Tier, but that didn't magically make him a good swordsman.
It only made him an unnaturally strong and fast klutz.
Ophelia wove through his attack as she parried, and he somehow ended up tripping past her. She smacked him in the back with the flat of her blade as he passed.
"Um… It looked like you did a bit better that time… I think?" Said Siyah, who had walked up beside Argus with her sister.
"Perhaps you are getting used to stumbling around?" Suggested Beyah with a straight face.
"Thanks, guys," Mathew said, sighing.
"Do not tell me this is all you have, Dread," Ophelia said, goading him.
"It's not like it will go any differently. There's probably a world of difference between us." He said, "Besides, Argus only drilled me in the fundamentals for a week before throwing us into this sparring session."
"Pressure-tested sparring is the best way to train for real combat," Argus said. "Besides, Lady Ophelia has not had much time to learn the sword either. It has only been six months since I started her training."
Mathew went silent.
Was that true? Sure, it was still more than he had trained, but it was a good deal less than he had anticipated. He would've thought she had trained for years from the way she carried herself.
It didn't change much, though. Mathew still had never held a sword before that week, not including the time in the temple of dread, and it seemed that, unfortunately, neither had Mathias. He couldn't rely on any muscle memory ingrained in his stolen body.
He thought of his first fight against a Nightspawn in the temple of dread.
"If only I had a spear." He muttered out loud.
"I cannot hear you, monster. Speak up." Ophelia said. Mathew's contract compelled him to comply.
"I said 'if only I had a spear'. I've trained with one before." He said.
"Is that so?" Ophelia said. "Then let us change the game."
She held out her left hand, and a spear phased into reality. It was the same rose-gold color as the metal of Mathew's sword. She stabbed the spear point down into the earth, then took a few steps back and gestured toward the weapon.
Mathew handed his sword back to Argus before moving to accept her challenge.
He'd never seen her use the weapon before. He wondered what other Blessed Numens she was hiding.
"Are you sure about this, my lady?" Argus asked as Mathew pulled the spear out of the ground.
"Give the signal." She said back. He took a breath and motioned for them to begin.
Mathew inched forward, His steps measured. The spear felt right in his grip, and it brought a steely calm to his demeanor.
Ophelia held her sword at the ready, shifting her grip once or twice in anticipation. They stood, staring each other down for a few moments. Then burst into action.
Once again, Mathew closed the gap, but things were different this time around. He threw a quick jab at her face, another feint, but this one was much more practiced. She jerked her head to the side to dodge an attack that never came, and Mathew struck her breastplate with the tip of his spear.
"That's one point for me." He said.
Ophelia took a half step backwards before falling into her stance again. Her face scrunched up in concentration.
Mathew decided to go on the attack again. He executed a series of quick thrusts at her, advancing forward steadily as he did so. She was on her back foot, deflecting or avoiding his spear desperately. It was a very similar situation to their first fight at the temple.
He could have killed her back then if Argus hadn't stepped in. Now, he wasn't going to stop Mathew. He landed another strike on Ophelia's armor.
"That's twice." He said to her. If he could still smile, he would have been grinning like the devil.
A drop of sweat fell from Ophelia's face and splattered on a large rock at her feet. She was breathing harder.
He wouldn't actually try to harm her. Despite how much he hated her, actually killing a person wasn't in his nature. Even if he went for a non-lethal strike, he knew she or Argus would punish him later, as she couldn't heal from wounds as he could.
The only revenge he could exact was to continue to crack her composure. It was enough for him. At the moment, seeing his captor struggling brought him an intoxicating feeling of exhilaration.
Mathew wanted to shatter her ego and crush the fragments to dust.
He surged forward again, fueled by his own conviction and supported by Mathias's skill. He started with another flurry of jabs and feints, again forcing Ophelia to retreat. He held back a little, though, so as not to land a strike just yet, but kept up enough pressure that she still had to put her maximum effort into defense.
Then he began to add more time in between each thrust, creating the illusion that he was slowing down. This was all a bait, of course.
Ophelia noticed the speed decrease, and her eyes narrowed as she twisted her blade to simultaneously deflect a spear strike and make an attack of her own. It was an incredibly fluid move, and Mathew found himself impressed. Argus had said she hadn't been training long, but Mathew's instincts, or rather Mathias's, were telling him she was a natural swordsman.
Unfortunately for her, he had wanted her to go for that opening.
As soon as she went for the kill, Mathew spun the spear, knocking her sword to the side with the middle of the shaft, then going for a wide counter-thrust towards her face. He didn't actually want to cut her face, but he had to commit to the move to sell it. Ophelia gasped when she realized she had been caught in his trap, practically bending backward to avoid the spear.
But now she was off balance.
Mathew spun, twirling the spear along with his own body, and sweeping Ophelia's legs out from under her with the butt of the spear.
She fell onto her back, and the wind was forced out of her lungs by the impact. Mathew stood above her, the spear tip held only an inch from her throat.
"Looks like I win, mistress. Why don't you surrender?" She glared up at him for a moment, and he reveled in the feeling of superiority.
"The match is over. Let us end here for today." Said Argus. Mathew turned his head to look at him, and Ophelia took the opportunity to make her move.
She grabbed right behind the spearhead with her left hand, yanking Mathew toward her, and at the same time lifted up her sword so that the blade pressed against the side of Mathew's neck.
"Now the match is over." She said. Mathew let go of the spear, stepping back and raising his hands.
"That was kind of a cheap shot." He said.
"Enough complaints. The loser does not care about 'cheap shots' once they are dead." She slowly got up to a sitting position. Both weapons fading away to some far-off place.
"Argus, prepare to depart. The rest of you, clean everything up." She said as she walked toward the carriage.
"Depart? Depart where?" Mathew asked Argus.
"I am also Curious where we are going." Said Siyah. Argus looked to each of them, as if trying to read their faces.
"We are headed toward Deimos Forest, though it is more commonly called the Forest of Terror."