Extra's Magic



As the armored student exited the arena, making way for the next challenger, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. I've finally gained movement in my Weapon Style!

Thud...

I glanced towards the entrance, my eyes narrowing as a new combatant stepped into the ring. He was a tall and lean figure, holding a styche - a weapon known for its curved blade and deadly precision.

A hush fell over the spectators as they recognized the potential intensity of the upcoming fight. The air crackled with anticipation, and I prepared myself for the clash that was about to unfold.

"You ready?"

The styche-wielder adjusted his grip on his weapon, the slender curve glinting in the arena's light. With focused determination, he met my gaze and nodded, signaling that he was ready to fight.

I reciprocated the gesture, my mind already racing with strategies to counter his unique weapon. The styche was an elegant and lethal choice, its curved blade capable of swift strikes and intricate maneuvers.

Swish...

As the fight began, I took a moment to gauge my opponent's movements. He moved with grace and fluidity, his footwork precise and his strikes calculated. It was evident that he had trained extensively with the styche, harnessing its potential to its fullest.

I opted for a defensive stance, utilizing my speed and agility to evade his initial attacks. The styche-wielder's strikes were swift, slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. But I managed to stay just out of his reach, sidestepping his lunges and parrying his slashes with calculated precision.

The clash of metal echoed through the arena, the crowd watching intently as we exchanged blows. The styche-wielder's movements were elegant yet lethal, his strikes aimed at exploiting any openings in my defense.

Clank...

But I countered with swift and precise strikes of my own, my longsword meeting his blade with equal force. The arena was filled with the rhythmic sounds of clashes, the dance of steel unfolding before the eyes of the spectators.

"..."

With each exchange, I noticed a pattern in his attacks - a slight hesitation before he launched a feint followed by a swift strike. Recognizing this, I adjusted my strategy, waiting for the opportune moment to counter.

As he lunged forward, I sidestepped his attack, simultaneously slashing my longsword toward his exposed flank. The blade cut through the air with a satisfying whoosh, grazing his clothes and leaving a shallow gash.

Pluck...

He recoiled, the surprise evident on his face. It was a testament to the effectiveness of my counter. However, he swiftly recovered, his focus unwavering.

The guy didn't even wince in pain, which almost made me emotional. Did I just find my long-lost brother masochist?

Clank...

His Styche whistled through the air, colliding with my Longsword and forcing me to step back.

Although our strength was probably equal, he had a better mastery of his weapon, which made him a formidable opponent.

'Not like I could expect an easy win...'

Grinning to myself, I readied my stance once more, preparing for the next series of strikes.

Although I came to Arena to just distract my thoughts and train my skills since Robbin was busy today, this was an excellent opportunity to slowly get used to my strengthened body and the breakthroughs I've gotten whilst within the Dungeon in the Wild lands.

Whoosh...

With renewed determination, I launched myself back into the fight, my longsword glinting in the arena's light. The styche-wielder's attacks came faster now, his strikes aimed with precision and speed. But I met each blow with unwavering focus and a calculated response.

We danced across the arena, our weapons colliding with a series of thunderous clashes. The spectators watched with bated breath as the battle intensified, the energy of our clash radiating throughout the arena.

Swish...

As the styche-wielder spun in a fluid motion, I anticipated his move and swiftly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the lethal arc of his weapon. Seizing the opening, I launched a counterattack, my longsword slicing through the air toward his exposed side.

Clank...

But he was quick to react, his styche deflecting my strike with a skillful parry. The force of our clash reverberated through my arms, but I remained undeterred. I swiftly recovered from the deflected strike, seamlessly transitioning into a new offensive.

The styche-wielder continued to press forward, his strikes becoming even more relentless. His weapon's curved blade posed a unique challenge, requiring me to adjust my defense and find openings within his intricate maneuvers.

As our weapons collided, sparks flew, illuminating the intensity of our clash. Each strike was met with equal force and precision, the exchange showcasing the skill and prowess we had honed through countless hours of training.

Time seemed to distort within the arena, my focus solely fixated on the styche-wielder and the symphony of the battle unfolding before me. The world around us faded into the background, leaving only the dance of steel and the determination to emerge victorious.

In a moment of calculated finesse, I managed to deflect one of his strikes, redirecting the force of his blow. Seizing the opportunity, I swiftly retaliated with a well-timed counterattack. My longsword found its mark, grazing his armor and leaving a shallow cut across his arm.

But the styche-wielder refused to yield. With a determined glint in his eyes, he pushed forward, launching a flurry of strikes in rapid succession. Each strike was aimed with deadly precision, testing my defenses and agility to their limits.

I weaved through his onslaught, my movements a seamless blend of evasion and calculated parries. Our battle had become a spectacle, the crowd on the edge of their seats as they watched the clash of our skills and wills.

As fatigue settled in, the rhythm of our strikes became more measured, each movement calculated for maximum impact. The styche-wielder's attacks carried the weight of experience, his strikes becoming more deliberate and strategic.

With each clash, I found myself adapting to his style, anticipating his feints and strikes with increasing accuracy. The battle had become a mental game of tactics and anticipation, each move a carefully calculated decision.

'I'm getting used to this...'

In a split second, I seized an opportunity, deflecting his strike and swiftly closing the distance between us. My longsword aimed for his exposed flank, but he anticipated my move. With a sudden twist of his body, he managed to evade my strike, narrowly avoiding the blow.

The styche-wielder retaliated with a lightning-fast series of strikes, his movements fluid and relentless. But I held my ground, my focus unyielding, as I parried and dodged with precision.

The battle reached its climax, both of us locked in a contest of skill and endurance. The arena seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation. Each clash of our weapons echoed through the silence, the sound a testament to our unwavering determination.

As the final moments of the battle approached, our movements intensified, our strikes becoming more ferocious and calculated. Sweat glistened on our brows, our breathing heavy, but neither of us showed any signs of faltering.

In a final surge of adrenaline, I executed a rapid series of strikes, my longsword meeting the styche-wielder's blade with unparalleled force. The impact reverberated through his arms, his defense momentarily compromised.

Seizing the opportunity, I pressed forward, my longsword finding its mark with a decisive blow. The styche-wielder's weapon was knocked from his grasp, spiraling through the air before clattering to the ground.

We stood there, the echoes of our battle lingering in the air, our bodies heaving with exhaustion.

"That was a good fight."

With a nod of mutual respect, the styche-wielder extended his hand, acknowledging my victory. I accepted the gesture, a mix of fatigue and satisfaction etched on my face.

'This is enough...'

We exited the arena together, leaving behind the echoes of our battle and the crowd of gamblers, who cursed each other.

As I stepped out into the cool air outside the arena, a sense of accomplishment washed over me. The fight had been grueling, but it had also been an opportunity for growth and learning. I had tested my skills, pushed myself to the limit, and emerged victorious.

"Maybe I can do this..."

Thinking about my performance, I tried to be positive about my future but it seemed unrealistic. If only two fights could make me this exhausted, I had a long way to go before I could face an army of demons.

With the echoes of the battle still ringing in my ears, I made my way back to my dormitory, my footsteps heavy with fatigue. As I entered the room, I took a moment to catch my breath and collect my thoughts.

"I need to sleep..."

Sinking onto my bed, I closed my eyes and allowed the adrenaline to slowly dissipate from my system.

As my body relaxed, my thoughts drifted to Rose, the Elven Princess, my scapegoat. We had planned a picnic for the next day, a chance to 'unwind and enjoy each other's company' amidst the serene beauty of nature.

The thought brought a smile to my face, a glimmer of nervousness and excitement building within me.

"I will regain my freedom..."

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