Chapitre 87: Chapter 87 - A Conditioning Condition
"Haaah… Fuck."
"We're only halfway through. Come on!"
"Crazy ass… I'm nothing like you, you know…"
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I dash forward to attack Vao once more. I swing my blade up from my right side in a rising diagonal slash. Suddenly, his blade flashes to the other side of his body, shining in the hot sun. I scowl, zigzagging my sword back and then at him again from another angle. But, almost instantly, he adjusts the blade to intercept the blow. "Motherf—"
I pull the blade back, scraping slightly against his as it turns into a feint. As the sparks are still flying up, I switch directions and slash at his other side.
A loud clang echoes back to our ears as he swipes outwards, pushing my attack away with one of his own.
"Is that it?" Vao asks, looking bored, and I grit my teeth as I swing Beholder's Eye back around in a tight arc at his face.
***
Vao wasn't expecting such a quick recovery after his heavy deflect, and the next attack nearly hit his cheek before he steps back.
'Although he has no proper form, and is overall ugly with his attacks, he certainly is hard to predict. No, it's pretty impossible. I'm merely reacting in time by overpowering him in speed. Dammit!'
The slight distraction has delayed Vao just enough for a tight upward cut from the boy to nearly clip his chin, and the middle-aged man leans back, thinking it'll pass.
But with a small movement and adjustment of his wrist and elbow, the arc suddenly lengthens, and once again Vao finds himself in the hitzone. 'Th fuck?!'
He gets his foot under him, taking a step out of the boy's range. 'Now, a counter—"
The black blade slips under his chin, cutting his jaw and tongue into two parts. Blood falls profusely from the separation and Vao stares in horror at the unfazed expression of the white-haired boy in front of him as his blade returns to its normal length, flicking downwards to splatter the red liquid on the dirt below.
"Shit, whoops…"
***
"Shit— Fourth Form of the Meditative State, Fog of Doubt!!"
Gentle clouds line the round path his sword traces, barely deflecting my extended edge. ''Damn, that one looked like it was about to hit…"
Beads of sweat fall down the older man's face as he stares at me, clouds slowly rising from his blade. Everyone else stares mouth agape at the magic coming from it, not understanding that in reality they're shocked that I was able to force a Swordmaster into using magic.
Vao lowers his sword, signifying the end of our session, and I sigh in relief as I sheathe Beholder Eye. "The real training starts tomorrow. To be honest, I was planning on overpowering you to the point of complete humility on your part, but you have far surpassed any expectations I could have had, being the monster you are. You, damn Figurine, come."
Vao points to the base of the single tree on the edge of the large dirt circle we had been sparring within, and Yorun slowly stands and walks towards him.
We are up at the top of the hill, where a small house, the dirt circle, and the tree are high above the surrounding area. Eniyala had explained the situation, offering to pay the man or offer other services (like cleanup of the carnage around the hill or transporting items), but he had accepted on the condition that he is allowed to train and refine my swordsmanship, on which I was forced to agree due to Eniyala's threa— persuasion.
So, for the past two days, I had been here, sparring against a Swordmaster, and still unable to land a single hit on him. And now he's just saying that he'd be actually training me??
I'd even had Klum's Reincarnation activate yesterday, luckily before the spar. Though, falling on my face wasn't pleasant, it was better than fighting against someone of his caliber.
A glint of silver snaps me from my train of thought, and I see a small black strand connected to Yorun appear and snap, slowly disappearing as if floating away in an imaginary wind. Everyone else looks confused, Yorun even freezing in place from concern.
"Uh… What was that for?"
"You're free now," Vao states simply, turning back to me with a stern expression. "I'll see you at 8 tomorrow."
"At least it's not four in the morning."
"You want it to be? I can arrange that."
"N-no! See you at eight, Sensei!"
He gives me a strange look before turning and entering the small house alone, and everyone lets out a heavy breath. I guess they all thought the man was cutting something else.
To be honest, I wouldn't have cared if he was cutting Yorun instead, but unfortunately that wasn't the case.
Our camp was set up between the tree and the house, two sturdy tents standing proudly. It was just large enough for me to lie side by side with Lynsel and Yorun. Lynsel always took the middle, meaning I usually spent the nights up against the tent wall.
The exhaustion from the spar finally sets in, and I drop down to my knees on the dirt. "Eugh. That was him not even trying?? And I'm the monster? Psh," I groan, leaning back to stare at the purple-blue sky.
"You know, your white hair is pretty and all, but you are way too adept at ruining it," Eniyala comments as she crouches down to stare at me. I wave it off, the only part of my heavy arm that moves being my wrist. "Meh. I didn't ask for this hair color. If anything, they saw how much I fell before and gave this to me as a middle finger."
She shrugs as the others walk up. "Your parents dyed your hair for you? It'd make more sense than naturally having that hair color," Termi asks, catching the tail end of our exchange.
"No, it is natural… They dyed it, uhhh, black… because they hated that I wasn't good at anything," I quickly reply, having to take a page from my childhood's book. It was better than agreeing, since my hair grew so fast that they would quickly realize it wasn't dyed. How would I even get it to this white in color??
Everyone seems satisfied with this, aside from Eniyala who shoots me one of those hidden glares hidden within a blank look. I shiver, smiling sweetly at her in return, and she just turns away.
Everyone chats for a while, before splitting up to do their own thing. Lynsel and Termi head off to get food ready for dinner — Lynsel gathering as usual, while Termi, as always, wants to hunt. Yorun disappears to who knows where, and I'm left resting underneath the shade of the tree for about half an hour, left to my thoughts. Eventually, Eniyala strolls up to me, the marks of exertion over her face. "Must have been training."
She plops down next to me, the faint smell of sweat wafting over to me, but not unpleasantly slamming my nose.
"Why do you keep hiding it?"
"Hiding what?"
She glares at me for a second; a true glare, unlike the hidden one before. 'Aside from those tiny smiles from Yorun, I think I'm the only one that gets her to express herself sometimes. Heh.'
"Your Reincarnate status. I know I told you to hide it, because not all Reincarnates are good people, and their reputation has suffered because of it, but I mean… I feel like you can trust these guys."
I shrug. "I don't know. When I compare myself from when I first came here a month and a half ago to now, the amount of growth I've gone through boggles my mind. But, if people heard I was a Reincarnate AND the Sword Saint? Then it's not effort and skill that got me to where I am, it's just that I got lucky."
She shakes her head. "Just… Trust them, okay?"
I lift my nose up in a mock snottily fashion, switching to a classic nasally noble accent. "No, I am simply… better."
We pause for a second before the both of us giggle. I return to my normal voice as I turn to face her.
"I trust Termi, 'cause she's a fellow Saint and all, and of course Lynsel, the good boy. But Yorun?"
She looks at me scoldingly. "We literally came here so he could sever that… connection, or whatever. If anything, I'm not sure we can trust that Swordmaster. We have no way of knowing he even—"
"He did," I say abruptly. Pointing to my right eye, I continue. "I saw the line split. So, he's good. But… I don't know, something about Emo Boy still seems off. Maybe I'm overthinking it."
Eniyala rolls her eyes. "Well, you can stop being jealous of me finding someone nice. Maybe you hit up little ol' Espin, if you're desperate?" Although she's clearly teasing, I can hear the hint of disdain hidden in her tone.
With a sigh, I stand and head for the boys' tent. "Let me know when dinner's ready. Gods, and I thought I was crazy. Yorun? Nice?? Pffft."
My mind didn't linger on the subjects we had talked about for long. After all, tomorrow at eight A.M. would start the chaotic hell that was a Swordmaster's Swordsmanship Training.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone