The Dance of Iron and Mana
His speed wasn't bad; in fact, it was impressive. At first, Legend seemed to be testing the waters with a direct strike. I parried it with effortless grace, a silent signal in the language of blades: I am ready.
Then, the real fight began.
Legend lunged again, but this time his strike was twice as fast and significantly heavier. Looking at the descending blade, only one word flashed through my mind: Excellent!
I countered with a flurry of high-speed slashes. Legend didn't bother with a formal defense; he simply swayed his body, dodging by hairsbreadths. He was still underestimating me. Fine, I thought, if you want a show, I'll give you one.
I pivoted, feinting a strike to his neck while stepping deep into his guard. To avoid his counter, I twisted my torso sharply to the left. One of my greatest advantages is my ambidexterity—I can wield a blade with either hand without losing a shred of power. I shifted the sword to my left hand, aiming a precise strike at his arm. Legend managed to block it, but the force of my momentum forced him into a crouch.
I didn't let up. I slid my blade along the edge of his, a screeching metal-on-metal sound that momentarily forced his guard upward. The second his chest was exposed, I drove my palm into his solar plexus. The impact sent him reeling back. I didn't give him time to breathe; I closed the gap instantly, our blades clashing again. For a split second, a darker instinct whispered to go for his throat, but I suppressed it. Not today.
"You're good," Legend grunted, his eyes narrowing. "But I have an ace up my sleeve. Mana Reinforcement!"
His blade began to glow as he poured mana into it, the physical pressure of his strikes increasing exponentially. He began to push me back. I knew a simple parry wouldn't work twice; using the same trick against a veteran like him would be foolish.
New plan. I feigned a stumble, dropping to one knee as if buckling under his superior pressure. As he leaned in to deliver the finishing blow, I spun low, unleashing a circular slash toward his midsection. He tried to leap back, but he was a fraction of a second too late. My blade grazed his side, while his sword managed to nick my shoulder as he scrambled away.
Two minor wounds. A draw.
"You're incredible," Legend breathed, sheathing his sword. "Perfect technique. If you're willing, let's call this a draw. What do you say?"
"Agreed," I replied, wiping a bead of blood from my shoulder.
The Shadow of the Spirit Lord
After Legend headed to his tent, Rina approached me. She had already cast an Illusion Barrier, ensuring the Lieutenant would only see a peaceful, empty campsite through her eyes.
"Master Magnus," Rina said, her voice tinged with a hint of disapproval. "Why did you play with him like a child? You could have ended that fight in three moves."
I leaned back against a wooden crate. "You're right, Rina. I could have. But where's the fun in that? Besides, I'm bored out of my mind. More importantly, I don't want the Lieutenant to think I'm a monster just yet. I adjusted my output to match his level."
I stood up and stretched. "Go to sleep, Rina. I've already set up several sensory barriers around the perimeter; I'll sense any danger miles away. And don't stay up too late. I read in a book once that lack of sleep leads to weight gain. I wouldn't want you getting fat on me."
Rina didn't miss a beat. "Don't worry, Master. Since my spiritual essence is bound to yours, if I get fat, you'll get fat right along with me."
With that playful parting shot, she vanished into her tent. I looked up at the moon, a faint smirk on my face. The war was coming, but for the first time in centuries, I was actually looking forward to it.