"No... way… Cormac… Lost?"
"That's… unexpected."
The crowd of Sleepers buzzed with awe and disbelief as Bari stood in the ring, sword still at Cormac's throat. Both Sleepers' chests heaved with exhaustion, sweat dripping onto the chalk-marked floor.
Bari's eyes, however, weren't on his opponent anymore. They were turned inward, slowing down his perception of time to dissect the fight.
While Bari mostly dodged and did not receive any hits or cuts, every clash he executed against Cormac was like striking a boulder, the only reason his arms weren't bruised or fractured into a thousand pieces was the simple fact that Bari could perceive the best course and action to take, being able to he had diverted, parried, and deflected strikes perfectly, minimising exhaustion, never wasting strength, never clashing head-on without purpose.
Even so, Bari reflected, there was a difference between seeing and responding. His eyes could trace every twitch of muscle, every shift in balance, every breath Cormac drew. He could break his opponent down to the finest detail — yet reacting to that storm of speed was another matter entirely. More than once, by the time Bari began to step aside, Cormac had already crossed the ring in a blur, his blade a streak of steel and strength.
That was the gulf between a half-grown body and a fully tempered one. Cormac's natural maturity, bolstered by the attribute "Strength of Two" and the raw force of a saturated core, made him a monster no ordinary Sleeper could hope to match. Against any other opponent, his power would have been overwhelming.
But Cormac had crossed blades with the one Sleeper who stood outside such limits — one whose sight and will set him apart from all others. Against Bari, even monstrous talent could only falter.
He was truly a divine existence.
One of his first lessons with Dax was movement. During this period of time he learned to perfect movement with max efficiency, using the minimal amount of movement needed to dodge attacks and escape unharmed. Normally such skill would require years of training, and yet with his eyes help, he was able to grasp the essence of movement within days. This allowed him to keep up with Masters in battle, while being a mere awakened.
That was one of the keys that allowed Bari to overcome Cormac's overwhelming speed, but it wasn't what made him win, it was his perfect technique and fighting style that made sure his victory was assured. The Immortal Flame Clan's battle art is one heavily suited to all, its main purpose is unlike all other fighting styles, unlike the ordinary style that is mainly forged around a single or two strengths — speed, power, or precision and crumbled when forced outside their specialty, as seen by Cormac's who rely on both. The Immortal Flame Clan's battle art specialises in neither aspect, but instead focuses on unpredictability and adaptation, using the perfect foundation to steal and refine the essence of any opponent's technique, every exchange an opportunity to refine one's approach and absorb the skills the user wants to their style. With it, Bari hadn't just fought. He had learned with every exchange.
Making it the perfect style to those who are adaptable and prodigies.
His fathers aspect allowed him to perceive the inner workings of the world, its structures and meaning, this forged him into the world's deadliest blade, being able to break down all the fighting styles he observed and assimilate them into his own. It was such a deadly utilisation of his aspect, that even the nightmare spell acknowledged his worth, granting him the true name, Broken Sword.
Someone as strong as Broken Sword was undefeated, and crowned the strongest, reaching the level of a saint at his peak, and only perished by the careful ambush of his own peers, three other saints. Now imagine someone whose aspect is a whole rank above Broken Sword, whose aspect is a direct evolution of the strongest. The ability to not only view the words structures and meaning, but its truths…
Truly, the ability to perceive the world at a lens of the divine, could not be underestimated.
As Bari thought this, he allowed his perception of time to slow to a crawl as he finally stepped back, pulling his shortsword from Cormac's throat. Sweat rolled off his chin and spattered against the floor. His lips curled into a vibrant smile, eyes narrowing into crescents that gleamed with childlike joy.
In that instant, Cormac's eyes widened. The boy before him no longer looked human, but feline — a predator with crimson eyes that dissected his soul.
Cormac's POV
"his swiftness and precision was out of this world…" he thought to himself
My speed and strength is leagues above Will-Borns, they should have crushed him outright, and yet… he was able to keep up with me, no, not only keep up, but actually counter attack and strike with unreal precision.
To be able to withstand my attack, to parry and deflect, with his strength would result in his arms pulverising and turning to dust. However, that did not happen, so… what exactly did he do?
His thoughts swirled in his head, confusion flickered in his eyes as he analysed before it turned into clarity.
The truth finally dawned, sharp as a blade. It wasn't strength. It wasn't speed.
It was technique.
Usually the thought of such would be absurd, but it was the only logical conclusion, by striking his blade against mine, he was able to execute a perfect parry, distributing the force of my blow outward, while blocking all my strikes with perfect form, diverting all the kinetic energy towards the ground.
His thoughts shifted from realisation to absolute awe, the skill required to do such was on the level comparable to a master. To think someone his age is so skillful to be able to wield a blade to such an extent… is his talent even real? Cormac thought to himself in complete awe.
"And if he was this skilled now, how terrifying would he become in the future?"
"Is this… the talent of the Immortal Flame Clan?"
As his thoughts came to a conclusion a fire lit in Cormac's chest. Not envy. Not hatred. Something fiercer.
***
"Be my rival." Cormac exclaimed abruptly.
As Bari stared at the conflicting emotions forming in Cormac's blue eyes, he was shocked upon hearing his proclamation.
"Umm… What?" Bari tilted his head, confused.
"From here on out, you are my one and true rival, Will-Born." Cormac declared, voice firm and unshaken. His blue eyes blazed with a prideful determination.
"Don't you dare lose to anyone else. Don't you dare fall on your back before anything less than me."Cormac exclaimed.
Before Bari could reply, Cormac turned on his heel and strode from the arena. The crowd parted in silence, his tall frame and black hair fading into the background.
"That… just happened." Bari thought to himself stunned.
But before he could process it further, another Sleeper stepped into the ring.
His troubles, it seemed, were only just beginning