The silver hissed as it was slowly withdrawn from its leather scabbard, unsheathed fully before the ginger-haired man tossed the sword-holder to the side.
“–“
As the man raised his sword, resting it on his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of a tattoo etched onto the back of the smiling man’s right hand: it was a sigil similar to that of the Mountain God emblem, but of a horned jester with four stars surrounding it.
He didn’t recognize what the sigil belonged to, but the stars told him one thing: this man was nonetheless dangerous.
“You’re a bad boy, Emilio. Looks like I’ll have to cut your hands and feet off to keep you obedient,” Rubert said, slowly walking towards him with an ear-to-ear smile, “Don’t worry; our custors like them a little broken, anyway. Might even pay a bit more.”
With the light of the flas and the moonlight shining down, he got a good look at the man’s face, sweating as he saw the man’s peculiar right eye; which was all-black with a star-shaped iris.
What is this guy…? He thought.
He held his ground, keeping his hand raised in preparation to fight back, though Rubert hardly seed cautious of the young boy’s magecraft.
I’ll have to be careful. I don’t know what this guy is capable of–he thought.
Though his thoughts were stifled as the ginger-haired man vanished from in front of his gaze.
“Cat got your tongue?”.
–Right into his ear, the words were whispered with such malice it made his skin crawl. If he had hairs on his body, they would’ve been raised.
“Ngh!”
He swept his hand through the air, unleashing a burst of air as the swift, smiling man flipped back with frivolous laughter.
What was that? I’ve never seen speed like that before–it was almost like he warped, he thought.
The wind spell had knocked up the dirt around him, obscuring his own view of his surroundings as his eyes darted around.
“He-he-he…”
Laughter echoed around him, accompanied by rapid steps that seed to co from every direction, shifting each mont as he spun around.
He was completely dumbfounded by his opponent, having no clue as to where he was or how he planned to attack.
“I can sll your fear, Dragonheart. It’s always spoiled brats like you that have the whole world fall into their lap on a satin pillow; once it all cos crashing down, you ooze fear like a trembling puppy,” the man spoke, vanishing around him, “…Are you scared, Dragonheart?”
Those last words were bestowed directly into the canal of his ear as he spun around, unleashing another spiral of wind, only to once again et nothing.
“Gyah–!”
After failing to hit his opponent, he was suddenly pushed forward by a kick against his back. He turned around in a mixture of anger, fear, and confusion, once again too late to even lay his eyes on the slippery man.
Changing his focus, particles of water began to manifest around him like stagnant rain, coalescing in front of his hand as he invoked the aquatic magecraft–”Water Beam.”
It was a condensed pillar of water that shot forward with a hiss, cutting through the soil and stone in its path, but the agility of his opponent proved annoying once more as the ginger-haired man flipped over the aquatic spell.
…I can’t keep up! So I’ll…! He decided.
Planting his feet down, he spread his arms out as he spurred on sharp winds around himself, creating a “safe zone” in a two-ter radius that protected him.
The winds howled out, slicing into the dirt around him with a perfect circle being carved to mark the radius.
“…Hmm…Not bad,” Rubert said.
Appearing in front of him, just a ter in front of the zone of cutting winds, Rubert watched him with a smile.
“Still, how long can you maintain that, though?” Rubert asked with a smile.
“–“
He ignored the man, focusing on keeping the zone of wind up while steadying his breathing, trying to plan out his next move.
I’ve never seen sobody fight like him. Father is a Mountain God Style user, and so is Veldalla. This is sothing else…he moves like a cat, he thought.
While thinking to himself, he watched as the man in the verdant cloak reached behind his back, retrieving sothing.
“–!”
He was caught by surprise as a throwing knife was flung sharply his way, aid right between his eyes with pinpoint accuracy. As it sailed towards him, he could feel his forehead tingle as if sensing he was just a mont away from dying.
This feeling of dread prompted him to move his hand forward, using a condensed cannon of air to knock the knife back, but doing that caused his circular radius of protection to vanish.
In the very mont the sharp winds left, the ginger-haired man of the mysterious sword style dashed forward with incredible speed.
…Crap! He thought.
He used a gust of air to propel himself backward just enough to evade the unseen swipe of the man’s silver blade.
“–“
Rubert smiled, looking at him with that devilish grin as he looked down, seeing his shirt cut cleanly in half around his belly.
His heart sank as he realized just how closely he teetered on the threshold of death in that mont; just a few inches short in his evasion, and his entrails would be strewn across the courtyard.
“Nice reaction~” Rubert told him.
Again, the ginger man dashed towards him with a silent step, closing in quickly. He pressed the sole of his shoe against the ground, shifting the dirt in front of him into mud.
“Oh?” Rubert held his unmoving smile as he looked down.
The man’s boots sank into the mud, but before the athyst-eyed boy could take advantage of the swift man’s ensnarent with a blast of fire, Rubert leapt up, flipping multiple tis.
“–?!”
He looked up, watching Rubert flip up before condensing his body like a spring, laying his black boots against the air as if it were a solid platform.
What is he…? He questioned.
Every instinct in his body fired off for him to move back, and he did just that as Rubert launched towards him as if utilizing the air itself as a foothold.
Did he…? What was that?! He questioned.
Half of Rubert’s blade was stuck into the dirt, being withdrawn swiftly as the ginger man looked up at him with his mix-colored eyes.
“You really are talented–amazing! In a few years, you’d definitely give a run for my money! Unfortunately…”
As Rubert trailed his words, he vanished from the boy’s sight, reappearing directly behind him.
Goosebumps rose across his skin as he could feel the creepy presence of the horned jester-tattooed man behind him, breathing down his neck.
“…You won’t live to et that potential.”
CLANG.
“–!”
The silver wielded by Rubert didn’t et the unguarded back of his neck, instead being stopped by what sounded like steel.
He glanced back as sparks danced in the air, seeing a familiar figure standing between him and the ginger-haired swordsman.
The man had shaggy, jet-black hair with an unshaven stubble, dressed in a black cloak that sat over light leather armor and tal greaves.
…Father? He thought.
“Oh? I don’t rember inviting you here,” Rubert said, jumping back as he held his sword up with an unorthodox stance.
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