Alalonn was genuinely pleased. Dropping into a forward stance, he kept one hand on his weapon, choking tightly on the grip. His sword still rang with the most recent impact.
It was only two years ago that Alken's strikes barely fazed him; not for lack of trying. He was just too small to budge the giant. Now, each blow felt like a genuine threat. Each strike sent a chill up Alalonn's arm. He felt the comforting burn of effort in his lungs, and the welcomed pain of damage on his skin from close cuts and unarmed strikes.
It wasn't every day a Second-Classer could bruise his skin; Cadet Group Eight continued to impress.
"My boy's holding his own. I couldn't be more proud." Alalonn paused to admire the novelty of the moment. It was a rather nice day; this almost felt like a game of catch.
"QUIT DAYDREAMING SIR!" Charging forward, Alken tore forward for another attack, his weapon high. The standard issue blade cut the air as Alalonn stepped back, raising his guard and pushing his arm forward. Standing on a stone plateau, the two had been dueling for the better part of an hour now. Alken strafed right, before tearing towards the First-Classer's left. The younger man moved in a graceful, but jagged line. Alalonn nearly lost sight of his student as the boy moved into his blind spot.
Alken brought his sword around, but Alalonn turned and guarded, his golden blade shooting forward a few inches. The guard forced Alken back, his graceful steps halted and his swing repelled. Gracelessly, the dark skinned young man stumbled back as Alalonn moved to attack. The elder warrior swung low. Regaining his balance, Alken stood on his hand and flipped back, avoiding a blow that would have slashed off his legs. Alalonn swung again, and Alken, with no room to dodge, raised his guard. The blow battered him to the side, but the boy rolled over his shoulder and got to his feet, a familiar red glow appearing in his hand.
With a roar of fury, Alken hurled a fire spell. Alalonn raised his arm as a fireball the size of a grapefruit struck him, splashing flames across his elbow and up his helmet. I haven't given him time to rest... He was holding some of his mana in reserve. Smart tactic. Alalonn inhaled sharply and blew. The gust from his lips blew the fire on his skin out.
No magic there. He just had strong lungs. With his view cleared, he saw that Alken was low and in arm's reach, his sword chambered by his side. Ah. The Sword of Doom.
Alalonn jumped back as the blade passed his waist. Despite evading the blow, he felt a painful sting shoot through his abdomen. His eyes widened when he realized Alken had managed to cut him.
It was a staple of any SOLDIER's repitoire; using the latent Mako in their system to enhance their swing. The result was a slash so powerful that it cut the air a good deal further than the blade. Alalonn saw the trail that the swing left behind. More importantly, he saw the gleeful smile on Alken's face as he managed to land the blow successfully.
Not bad. Time to take him down a notch. Alalonn planted his feet. "Now for my reply. SWORD OF DOOM."
Alalonn swung his blade hard. He saw the look of confusion on Alken's face for an instant, before the boy made the correct split-second choice; he jumped. The pebbles on the plateau were hurled away in a spiral of wind; had the Second-Class SOLDIER not avoided Alalonn's swing, it would have chopped him in half. Alken landed, looking down at his boots.
Some durable rubber fell to the ground away from his feet; Alalonn had shaved off a few centimeters of his soles. "Whoa..." Bewildered but still willing to continue, Alken planted his blade in the ground, clenching his fists and spacing his feet apart.
"Are you surrendering?" Alalonn grinned, stroking his beard and wiping the sweat from his jaw.
"In a sense. I can never beat you with swordsmanship alone. So, I'll hit you with everything I have, weapon be damned." Alken took in a deep breath. Vapor drifted up from his skin, before dispersing into the high wind. Alalonn watched patiently as his student prepared himself. "I've been working on this privately. I apologize if it fails to meet your standard, sir."
Alalonn shoved his weapon into the scabbard on his back, spacing his feet apart. Bracing himself, he wondered what Alken had to offer. The boy had always excelled in hand-to-hand, and it seemed he was channeling every last drop of his power. A limit break, hm?
Let's see what you've got.
"Goner Stride." Digging his heels into the dirt, Alken charged forward. Alalonn watched him approach, and felt a pressure that he rarely encountered with lesser adversaries.
"Your attacks always have such sad names." Alalonn managed a joke before the collision, but little else. Alken was moving too fast for him to mount a defense; for the first time, the dark skinned teenager made the commander experience mortal fear.
Alken's elbow caught the First-Class SOLDIER just under the ribs. Alalonn slid backwards a step, his knee nearly touching the ground. FUCK. That hurt. Alalonn chortled, turning just in time to see Alken coming at him again. A sting an move pattern. BLOCK. Abandoning his role as an evaluating teacher, Alalonn focused himself on surviving the next attack. Alken had a running start, and was inches from striking.
Lifting his arm, Alalonn felt his student's boot ring against his bicep. He blocked the strike, but Alken was past him and in his blind spot before he could retaliate. Left. Turning, Alalonn hardened up, raising his guard. With yet another running start, Alken struck his commander with a straight punch. The strike tore through the First-Classer's guard, managing to tag him directly on the mouth.
A mistake. The boy didn't have enough room to pass by. Alalonn caught Alken by the neck. His own momentum was his downfall; Alken's head and throat were stationary, but his body still shot forward, snapping him horizontal. Alalonn lifted the younger SOLDIER by the throat, then slammed him down, embedding him in the dirt. "Ghkt." Unmoving, Alken was stunned by the blow. His helmet flew over Alalonn's shoulder, landing with a tinny, metallic thump.
Showing no quarter, Alalonn drew his sword and brought it down, piercing his student through the stomach. Lifting his blade, Alalonn held the impaled young man in the air. Alken's brown eyed gaze fixed on Alalonn defiantly, but the fight was clearly over. "A solid effort, Alken. You did not disappoint me." Alalonn's ice-blue stare evaluated his student with something like glee; even against his vassels, the commander certainly enjoyed a well earned victory.
Swinging his arm, Alalonn flicked the limp body off of his weapon, sending Alken flying aside. The boy landed hard, rolling off the plateau and falling to his death, leaving nothing behind on the plateau but his helmet, his sword, and a bloody stain where he'd been run through.
Alken woke with a start. The last thing he remembered was plummeting towards the hard desert sand beneath the plateau. His stomach was in knots. "Yikes." He shuddered; the ghost of cold steel lingered in his gut. Alalonn was still in the simulation, laying on his Vision Room cot.
Sitting up and stretching, Alken mentally reviewed the battle; it was always as hazy as a dream at first. Alalonn finally stirred, getting up and stretching his back. "An excellent limit break, Alken. You'd dance circles around most folks with it."
"It's a work in progress, sir. Thank you."
"The perfect is the enemy of the good. I'd say it's ready. You knocked one of my teeth out." Alalonn laughed, tilting his neck with a satisfying pop. "I need coffee." With that, he wandered into the hall. For all his power, he seemed rather tuckered out; the Vision Room always took a toll. "Come. I have some pointers on your swordsmanship."
"Sir, yes sir!" Alken staggered upright, then followed, slapping his cheek to wake up fully.
It was only two years ago that Alken's strikes barely fazed him; not for lack of trying. He was just too small to budge the giant. Now, each blow felt like a genuine threat. Each strike sent a chill up Alalonn's arm. He felt the comforting burn of effort in his lungs, and the welcomed pain of damage on his skin from close cuts and unarmed strikes.
It wasn't every day a Second-Classer could bruise his skin; Cadet Group Eight continued to impress.
"My boy's holding his own. I couldn't be more proud." Alalonn paused to admire the novelty of the moment. It was a rather nice day; this almost felt like a game of catch.
"QUIT DAYDREAMING SIR!" Charging forward, Alken tore forward for another attack, his weapon high. The standard issue blade cut the air as Alalonn stepped back, raising his guard and pushing his arm forward. Standing on a stone plateau, the two had been dueling for the better part of an hour now. Alken strafed right, before tearing towards the First-Classer's left. The younger man moved in a graceful, but jagged line. Alalonn nearly lost sight of his student as the boy moved into his blind spot.
Alken brought his sword around, but Alalonn turned and guarded, his golden blade shooting forward a few inches. The guard forced Alken back, his graceful steps halted and his swing repelled. Gracelessly, the dark skinned young man stumbled back as Alalonn moved to attack. The elder warrior swung low. Regaining his balance, Alken stood on his hand and flipped back, avoiding a blow that would have slashed off his legs. Alalonn swung again, and Alken, with no room to dodge, raised his guard. The blow battered him to the side, but the boy rolled over his shoulder and got to his feet, a familiar red glow appearing in his hand.
With a roar of fury, Alken hurled a fire spell. Alalonn raised his arm as a fireball the size of a grapefruit struck him, splashing flames across his elbow and up his helmet. I haven't given him time to rest... He was holding some of his mana in reserve. Smart tactic. Alalonn inhaled sharply and blew. The gust from his lips blew the fire on his skin out.
No magic there. He just had strong lungs. With his view cleared, he saw that Alken was low and in arm's reach, his sword chambered by his side. Ah. The Sword of Doom.
Alalonn jumped back as the blade passed his waist. Despite evading the blow, he felt a painful sting shoot through his abdomen. His eyes widened when he realized Alken had managed to cut him.
It was a staple of any SOLDIER's repitoire; using the latent Mako in their system to enhance their swing. The result was a slash so powerful that it cut the air a good deal further than the blade. Alalonn saw the trail that the swing left behind. More importantly, he saw the gleeful smile on Alken's face as he managed to land the blow successfully.
Not bad. Time to take him down a notch. Alalonn planted his feet. "Now for my reply. SWORD OF DOOM."
Alalonn swung his blade hard. He saw the look of confusion on Alken's face for an instant, before the boy made the correct split-second choice; he jumped. The pebbles on the plateau were hurled away in a spiral of wind; had the Second-Class SOLDIER not avoided Alalonn's swing, it would have chopped him in half. Alken landed, looking down at his boots.
Some durable rubber fell to the ground away from his feet; Alalonn had shaved off a few centimeters of his soles. "Whoa..." Bewildered but still willing to continue, Alken planted his blade in the ground, clenching his fists and spacing his feet apart.
"Are you surrendering?" Alalonn grinned, stroking his beard and wiping the sweat from his jaw.
"In a sense. I can never beat you with swordsmanship alone. So, I'll hit you with everything I have, weapon be damned." Alken took in a deep breath. Vapor drifted up from his skin, before dispersing into the high wind. Alalonn watched patiently as his student prepared himself. "I've been working on this privately. I apologize if it fails to meet your standard, sir."
Alalonn shoved his weapon into the scabbard on his back, spacing his feet apart. Bracing himself, he wondered what Alken had to offer. The boy had always excelled in hand-to-hand, and it seemed he was channeling every last drop of his power. A limit break, hm?
Let's see what you've got.
"Goner Stride." Digging his heels into the dirt, Alken charged forward. Alalonn watched him approach, and felt a pressure that he rarely encountered with lesser adversaries.
"Your attacks always have such sad names." Alalonn managed a joke before the collision, but little else. Alken was moving too fast for him to mount a defense; for the first time, the dark skinned teenager made the commander experience mortal fear.
Alken's elbow caught the First-Class SOLDIER just under the ribs. Alalonn slid backwards a step, his knee nearly touching the ground. FUCK. That hurt. Alalonn chortled, turning just in time to see Alken coming at him again. A sting an move pattern. BLOCK. Abandoning his role as an evaluating teacher, Alalonn focused himself on surviving the next attack. Alken had a running start, and was inches from striking.
Lifting his arm, Alalonn felt his student's boot ring against his bicep. He blocked the strike, but Alken was past him and in his blind spot before he could retaliate. Left. Turning, Alalonn hardened up, raising his guard. With yet another running start, Alken struck his commander with a straight punch. The strike tore through the First-Classer's guard, managing to tag him directly on the mouth.
A mistake. The boy didn't have enough room to pass by. Alalonn caught Alken by the neck. His own momentum was his downfall; Alken's head and throat were stationary, but his body still shot forward, snapping him horizontal. Alalonn lifted the younger SOLDIER by the throat, then slammed him down, embedding him in the dirt. "Ghkt." Unmoving, Alken was stunned by the blow. His helmet flew over Alalonn's shoulder, landing with a tinny, metallic thump.
Showing no quarter, Alalonn drew his sword and brought it down, piercing his student through the stomach. Lifting his blade, Alalonn held the impaled young man in the air. Alken's brown eyed gaze fixed on Alalonn defiantly, but the fight was clearly over. "A solid effort, Alken. You did not disappoint me." Alalonn's ice-blue stare evaluated his student with something like glee; even against his vassels, the commander certainly enjoyed a well earned victory.
Swinging his arm, Alalonn flicked the limp body off of his weapon, sending Alken flying aside. The boy landed hard, rolling off the plateau and falling to his death, leaving nothing behind on the plateau but his helmet, his sword, and a bloody stain where he'd been run through.
Alken woke with a start. The last thing he remembered was plummeting towards the hard desert sand beneath the plateau. His stomach was in knots. "Yikes." He shuddered; the ghost of cold steel lingered in his gut. Alalonn was still in the simulation, laying on his Vision Room cot.
Sitting up and stretching, Alken mentally reviewed the battle; it was always as hazy as a dream at first. Alalonn finally stirred, getting up and stretching his back. "An excellent limit break, Alken. You'd dance circles around most folks with it."
"It's a work in progress, sir. Thank you."
"The perfect is the enemy of the good. I'd say it's ready. You knocked one of my teeth out." Alalonn laughed, tilting his neck with a satisfying pop. "I need coffee." With that, he wandered into the hall. For all his power, he seemed rather tuckered out; the Vision Room always took a toll. "Come. I have some pointers on your swordsmanship."
"Sir, yes sir!" Alken staggered upright, then followed, slapping his cheek to wake up fully.
Last edited by Bad John on September 7th 2017, 5:59 pm; edited 1 time in total