Missio held the longsword tightly in his hand. He exhaled, closing his eyes. He opened them and a path formed in his mind. But now, he didn't act upon it. Dante circled him.
"Your training in Venice really paid off." He commented. "You're controlling yourself better than ever."
"Get on with the sword art, will you?" Missio groaned.
"Right – Right." Dante replied.
He stopped in front of his little brother. Locking eyes with Missio, he opened his mouth.
"Let's move onto the second form – Stride." He stated. "This form is the first step to infinity. You need to build momentum, learn your enemies attack patterns and predict their attacks to benefit your own. Don't give up on defense yet though. Stick to the basic's – block, parry, deflect and attack."
Missio furrowed his brows as his brother continued to speak.
"Before, you were attacking purely on instinct. You were in… a trance but one that was… easy to dismantle. Attacking with pure instinct… doesn't make you a warrior but a beast. Your mind still needs to work to take in the chaos of war and read your opponent."
"Well, I was kinda predicting you." Missio pointed out.
"Again, you don't understand. You were merely reacting to my movements while in the zone. Your talent carried you through two incomplete forms but in battle, you would've surely been killed. It's easy to predict the moves of a feral beast but not of one who also can control his instincts." Dante reprimanded.
"…Okay." Missio sighed.
"Now… trace the path you made." Dante raised his sword.
Missio inhaled deeply. He relaxed his body. Sub-consciously, his brain formed an attacking path in his mind. He didn't act upon it yet. He read his brother.
'He's relaxed… but also wary. He expects me to consciously attack this time…"
Missio made his decision. He shot forward, raising his blade. Dante narrowed his eyes. Missio first moved with reflex. He swung down at Dante like before. Dante – expecting Missio to follow his instructions was caught off guard. Missio found an opening. He brought his sword back in an instant. He lowered his blade. Dante held his sword to his chest, expecting an attack from under.
But he was wrong. Missio quickly stepped to the side. He tucked his longsword on his right hip. Dante panicked. Missio thrusted his blade. Dante leaned back, barely dodging it. Missio pressed his feet on his brother's. He flipped his grip and raised his blade. Dante lifted his head, staring at the tip of Missio's sword. His little brother's sword fell. Dante gritted his teeth, swinging wildly. The sword's vibrated, colliding with one another.
Just as Dante's head was about to hit the canvas, he caught himself. His hand pressed against the ground. He pushed himself back up. Missio backed off. Dante straightened and caught his breath.
"Damn… I was not expecting that." Dante stated.
"Did I do it?" Missio questioned.
"Of course you did it. You prodigy." Dante replied.
"You can stop with the prodigy thing…" Missio mumbled in a shy voice.
"Great job, I will say. First, you surprised by opposing my unusually high expectations and second, you then took control and almost made me have a concussion." Dante analyzed.
"So… am I done with Form 2?"
"Bro, this is swordsmanship. You learned it. Now, you have to master it."
"Fine – Fine. Just move onto to Form 3." Missio waved.
Dante heaved a sigh. He crossed his arms and spoke.
"Form three of Sempiterne Swordsmanship – Restless."
Missio raised a brow. "I'm guessing this is where all the movement starts?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, smarty pants." Dante sneered. "But yes, in Restless parrying become your ultimate defense. You don't block – you deflect and parry. Each motion connects to the next strike. You're in a fluid motion at whatever pace that is suitable for a user which may be slow or fast based on their stamina.
"This is where the controlled instinct comes in handy, doesn't it?"
"Yes, like how you flipped over me the first time. Never stop moving. Build up your velocity…" Dante elevated his longsword, relaxing his body. "And strike your enemy down."
"Got it." Missio relaxed his body as well.
Both brothers locked eyes with each other. Forming paths in their heads, they exhaled at the same time. In the next moment, they shot forward. Their weapons clashed, the vibration of the metal echoing throughout the room. Dante swung diagonally. Missio parried. The blades slid across each other. Dante frowned and twisted his wrist. His sword bound Missio's. Missio panicked for a moment. He pulled his sword back.
"You're not getting to Restless if you're that afraid." Dante noted Missio's fear.
Missio stared at Dante. His brother was correct – he was afraid, afraid of getting hurt, afraid of feeling pain. Yet, that seemed to be the only thing holding him back. He drew a sharp breath, contemplating for a moment. He stood up the next moment. Dante smirked, locking onto his brother. Missio rushed Dante. Dante deflected Missio's strike. Missio twisted his body. The blade grazed his shirt. He thrusted his blade. It connected with Dante's skin.
It recoiled as if it were hitting a brick wall. Missio's pupils dilated. Dante pulled his weapon – unfazed. He swung it from above. Missio side-stepped. Both stopped in their tracks, locking onto each other. They exhaled at the same time once again. Their sword collided the next second. They danced around the arena, spinning their blades like turbines. Missio's mind screamed at him stop – to back off from attack.
Missio gritted his teeth, ignoring his mind's warning. He continued the bout. The sword clashed continuously, chipping their blades. Dante stepped between Missio's legs. The supreme commander spun around swiftly. Missio's eyes widened. He swung his blade down, using the opening. Yet, his blade cut air the next moment. Dante tensed his muscles and struck Missio in his head. His little brother's eyes went blank for a moment.
Dante's heart skipped a beat. Missio fell with his sword. He clutched his head, groaning at the pain. Dante froze for a moment. Then, he chuckled lightly.
"Oh, God. I thought I killed you there for a moment." He stated.
"Son of a bitch…" Missio muttered under his breath. "Did you really have to hit me that hard?"
"Sorry, I was in an adrenaline rush. I can't control myself like that without my attribute." Dante apologized.
Missio groaned in pain for a few moments. He exhaled heavily and stood up dizzy. In a fraction of a second, he felt as if he were falling into another dimension. He snapped out of it. Dante stood above, casting a shadow. He held out his hand. Missio reached for it. He stood up – grunting.
"How are you feeling now?" Dante asked worriedly.
"I'm… fine." Misso rubbed his head.
Dante touched his chest and heaved a sigh of relief. "That's good."
He sheathed his sword and crossed his arms.
"So, how did Restless feel?"
"It made me Restless." Missio sneered.
"Nice pun." Dante chuckled slightly. "But – No, how did it actually feel?"
Missio paused for a moment. "It felt… yeah, it felt nice but why was I afraid?"
"You haven't held a sword properly since Stratos." Dante stated. "In the black ops, you mainly used guns. You only started using a katana after becoming lieutenant general."
Missio sighed, realizing his mistake. After resting for a few minutes, he jolted up.
"Let's continue." He spoke
"As you wish, my dear little brother." Dante raised his longsword.