Fin’s feral smile lingered, sharp and wild, as Gavric’s Tier Four mana pulsed thick and heavy. The training grounds stood still, dust frozen mid swirl, twenty-eight pairs of eyes locked on the arena’s heart. Gavric towered, greatsword in hand, his scarred grin mirroring Fin’s own.
“Tier One first,” Gavric rumbled, voice a low growl. “Show me your baseline, Aodh.” His mana dampened, throttled to a faint hum, a shadow of its depth. He shifted, stance loose, sword tip tracing dirt.
The sun beat down upon the training grounds, casting long shadows across the packed earth. The air tasted of dust and anticipation, a metallic tang that reminded Fin of the training grounds back at his family’s estate. Around the perimeter, students had stopped their drills, drawn by the magnetic pull of what was unfolding. Some whispered behind cupped hands, others stood transfixed, training weapons forgotten at their sides.
Fin nodded, practice sword steady, Equilibrium humming beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. He felt the familiar flow of mana through his meridians, a cool river that sharpened his senses until he could count the beads of sweat on Gavric’s brow, hear the soft rustle of cloth as the instructor breathed. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his practice sword, finding the worn grooves.
Gavric lunged, slow, deliberate, a testing slash that carved through the air with precise intention. Fin watched the strike approach as if time had slowed, the edge of the blade catching sunlight. He sidestepped, outpacing it effortlessly. Too slow. The movement felt natural, like water flowing around stone. He parried, clang, blade sliding off with no strain, the impact traveling up his arm but finding no purchase against his mana reinforced muscles.
Gavric swung again, predictable, a horizontal sweep meant to test Fin’s footwork rather than threaten. Fin ducked, the air disturbed by the passing blade ruffling his hair, then tapped his wrist with the practice sword’s tip. Child’s play. The gesture wasn’t meant as mockery, merely acknowledgment of the exercise’s simplicity.
The crowd shifted restlessly. This wasn’t what they expected. A Tier Four instructor moving with such restraint, being matched so easily by a student, it defied their understanding of the hierarchy. Some leaned forward, squinting as if doubting their eyes.
Gavric froze, muscles locking into sudden stillness. Then his chest expanded with a deep inhalation, and he barked a feral laugh, deep, unhinged, the sound of a predator discovering worthy prey. "Too easy, huh?" His mana flared, the shift palpable in the air, like pressure before a storm. Surging to Tier Two, sharper, denser, it radiated from him in waves that Fin could feel against his skin. "Let's dance proper."
The air snapped, a sound like thunder without the boom, Gavric blurred, greatsword arcing fast, dust kicking up in his wake. A semi-circular spray of dirt marked his acceleration, his bulk moving with impossible speed. Fin's brows ticked up fractionally, better. This was closer to a real challenge. He dodged, Equilibrium flowing through him, making his movements fluid and precise. But Gavric pressed forward relentlessly, slash, thrust, a tight flurry of strikes that forced Fin to move continuously, never allowing him to set his feet.
Steel clashed against steel, Fin parried, feet sliding backward across the dirt, feeling the weight behind each blow transfer through his blade and into his bones. The vibrations traveled up his arms, making his teeth ache. Even now, the match remained balanced, but Fin knew it wasn't enough. Gavric was still holding back, testing him, probing for weaknesses.
Around them, the onlookers had fallen utterly silent. Annie stood with her short sword hanging forgotten from her fingertips, her usually composed face slack with shock. Beside her, Tormund's massive frame had gone rigid, his axe clutched in white-knuckled hands. Even Kellan had stopped his incessant pacing, standing stock-still at the edge of the training circle, his four-star collar catching the last of the morning rays.
Fin dropped his sword, useless here against Gavric's superior reach and strength, and flexed his hand deliberately. Thunderfang woke, mana coiling up his arm like a living thing, sparking blue-white between his fingers. He’d forgotten all about his want to blend in. He lunged, fist crackling with contained energy, slamming it into Gavric's chest, directly above the heart. Lightning burst at the point of impact, a blinding flash accompanied by the smell of ozone. The strike sank deep, mana sizzling through flesh, disrupting the normal flow. Dust exploded outward from the impact point, obscuring them both momentarily. Done.
Or so he thought.
Gavric's laugh erupted through the dust cloud, maniacal, louder than before, shaking the arena as the particles settled around them. His free hand, massive and scarred, seized Fin's wrist in a grip like iron, yanking it free from his chest with a wet crack. Blood welled from the wound, bright crimson against tanned skin, then vanished as if absorbed back into his body, his chest knit shut before Fin's eyes, flesh sealing with unnatural speed. "Nice spark, runt!" he roared, grin wild and exhilarated. His eyes gleamed with something primal, something hungry.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Fin's gut clenched, Equilibrium strained against the sudden shift in momentum. Convergent Equilibrium surprised him, pulling mana from his core for the first time since he got the skill. This was beyond what he had prepared for. Gavric's mana spiked again, Tier Three now, a crushing wave that pressed against Fin's senses. The air thickened noticeably; breathing became like drawing air through cloth. Gavric's speed quadrupled in an instant, his bulk no longer a limitation but fuel for his power.
Fin backpedaled desperately, Gavric swung, his greatsword a blur too fast to track with normal vision. Fin ducked, barely, steel whistling past his ear close enough that he felt the displaced air against his cheek. Defensive now, he weaved and dodged, Electromagnetic Perception screaming warnings at him from all directions as Gavric's mana flooded the area, drowning his senses in static.
The spectators had backed away, forming a wider circle. Some watched with naked fear, others with awe. Mili stood with her hands pressed to her mouth, eyes wide above her fingers. Rylan's customary smirk had vanished, replaced by tight-lipped concentration as he tracked the movements that most could barely see.
Slash, Fin dodged sideways, shirt tearing as the blade caught fabric but missed flesh by a hair's breadth. Thrust, parried with his forearm, bones jarring painfully even through his mana reinforcement. Gavric's strikes rained down, relentless, precise, each one coming from a different angle, exploiting openings Fin didn't know he'd left. Fin's footing slipped, sweat beaded on his forehead and ran into his eyes, his abnormal abilities stretched thin against this onslaught. He couldn't follow, Gavric was too quick, his strikes too heavy. The instructor toyed with him now, a predator circling wounded prey, drawing out the inevitable.
The training ground had gone utterly silent. Not a whisper, not a shuffling foot disturbed the tableau. Even the birds seemed to have ceased their calls, as if the entire world held its breath to witness what came next.
Then, the greatsword swung in a perfect arc, full power behind it, a killing blow that would cleave flesh from bone. Fin froze, caught in mid-movement, too late to dodge, too off-balance to parry. At the last heartbeat, when steel should have met flesh, Gavric stopped, blade kissing Fin's neck, a trickle of blood welling where the edge had just broken skin. Fin's breath caught in his throat, Equilibrium faltering for the first time since the match began.
"Good fight, Aodh," Gavric said, voice low, grin fading to something like approval. He pulled the sword back with deliberate slowness, resting it on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. The mana around him settled, no longer crushing but still potent, like the aftermath of a storm.
Silence gripped the arena, dead quiet, profound enough that Fin could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears. He blinked, awareness of their audience creeping back into his consciousness. Kellan's drills had stopped completely, twenty untrained recruits gawked from the sidelines, jaws slack with disbelief. The seven other trained students, Annie, Mili, Tormund, and the rest, stood frozen in tableau, eyes wide with varying degrees of shock.
Annie's short sword hung limp from nerveless fingers; Rylan's rapier trembled slightly in his usually steady hand. Kellan stared at them both, four-star collar glinting in the sunlight, disbelief plain on his weathered face. No one spoke. No one moved. The moment hung suspended between them all, reality temporarily reshaping itself around what they had witnessed.
Gavric chuckled, softer now, glancing around at the stunned faces. "What? Never seen a spar?" He clapped Fin's shoulder, hard enough to stagger him, mana easing back to Tier Four's constant thrum. "Back to it, move!" His command broke the spell, sending students scrambling back to their positions, though their movements were mechanical, minds clearly elsewhere.
Fin straightened, wiping blood from his neck with his sleeve, Equilibrium steadying him gradually as he regained his center. His core, only halfway full for the first time, rapidly pulling in ambient mana to fill up. His feral edge had dulled somewhat in the face of such overwhelming power, but a spark lingered deep within, Gavric was a wall he'd climb someday, no matter how impossible it seemed now.
He retrieved his practice sword from the dust, noting the new nicks and dents its blade had acquired. Around him, the training ground slowly resumed its normal rhythm, though conversations buzzed like disturbed hornets. Fin caught fragments as he moved to the edge of the circle:
“Never seen anyone stand against him…"
"Did you see how fast…"
"That skill with the lightning…"
Gavric had already turned away, his massive frame cutting through the crowd like a ship through water. Students parted before him, some bowing slightly, others simply staring as he passed. His mana signature left a trail behind him, dense and powerful, marking his path like invisible footprints.
Fin rolled his shoulders, feeling the strain of muscles pushed beyond their normal limits. Tomorrow would bring pain, but also growth. Equilibrium had been tested today, pushed to its boundaries and beyond. He had learned more in these few minutes than in weeks of standard training.
Kellan approached, his expression unreadable. "Aodh," he said, voice pitched low so only Fin could hear. "What was that?"
Fin met his instructor's gaze steadily. "A lesson, sir."
"Indeed." Kellan's eyes narrowed slightly, reassessing. “Are you sure you’re Tier One?”
Fin paused, looking back over his shoulder.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Fin's mouth. "Yes, sir. I am"
As he walked away, Fin could feel the eyes following him, twenty-eight pairs, some curious, some wary, some calculating. The dynamic had shifted today. Lines redrawn. Expectations shattered. He had stood against a Tier Four and survived. Not won, he harbored no illusions about that, but survived, and in doing so had changed everything.
In the distance, Gavric's laughter echoed once more, wild and free.
He’d failed his goal of blending in, but he couldn’t stop himself from the fun of a challenging fight.
Behind him, the whispers continued, spreading throughout the compound like wildfire. By evening meal, everyone would know what had transpired here. The story would grow with each telling, embellished, exaggerated, but at its core would remain the undeniable truth: Fin Aodh had faced Gavric's steel and storm, and walked away.