Chapter 14: First Fight
Without warning, Galleon lunged.
Clang!
Kael barely got his blade up in time. The impact rattled through his arms. Before he could even breathe, Galleon had already leapt back with a smirk.
"Heh. Not bad," Galleon muttered. "But let's kick things up a notch."
His foot sparked against the ground—Swiftstride.
In the blink of an eye, Galleon vanished and reappeared right in front of Kael, his blade already mid-swing.
Kael's eyes widened.
There was no time to think—only react.
He poured everything into his legs—his focus, his will—Innergy, now!
His body blurred, shifting to the side just as the blade slashed through where he had stood a heartbeat before. His movement was rough, unrefined—far from perfect—but it worked.
He skidded across the stone floor, barely catching his balance.
Galleon's eyes lit up with surprise. "You copied it?" he said, amused. "Hah! Now you've really got my attention."
Kael gritted his teeth, breathing heavy, his legs burning from the strain.
"Guess I'm a fast learner."
Galleon's smirk widened, a flicker of excitement sparking in his eyes.
"Well, well… things just keep getting more interesting."
With a blur of motion, he dashed forward again, blade whistling through the air. But this time, Kael didn't raise his sword to block.
He attacked.
Steel clashed with steel, the sharp ring echoing across the corridor as Kael met Galleon's blade head-on. Sparks burst from the impact.
Galleon's brows lifted slightly—surprised.
Kael's grip tightened. He felt it.
Light.
Galleon's swings, while precise and fast, lacked weight. Kael could feel the difference now—this man relied on speed, deception, and blind spots. Each strike came from an angle that made you flinch, hesitate—but not break.
There was power in that style, yes… but also a gap.
Kael adjusted his stance, blade trembling slightly from the clash. His breath was sharp, focused.
"He's fast," Kael thought. "Too fast… but he doesn't hit like a heavy blade. If I match his pressure… I can hold my ground."
But even as that realization clicked into place, he knew—one mistake, one slip, and even a light blade could cut deep.
He couldn't relax. Not for a second.
Not until this was over.
The clash of steel rang through the air like war drums.
Blades collided—again and again—sparks flying with every strike. Each step, each movement, a blur. Kael gritted his teeth, arms aching from the force behind each blow. Galleon pressed forward, relentless.
But Kael had seen it.
The pattern.
Every diagonal slash was always followed by a vertical, rising cut.
It was subtle—but predictable.
Kael held his breath. Waited.
There—diagonal slash.
Now.
Kael ducked low, pivoted, and brought his blade across with a sharp, clean slash—cutting across Galleon's arm. The strike landed, blood spraying into the air.
"I got him—!" Kael thought.
But—
SHING!
Pain shot across his chest. Galleon's blade carved through flesh.
Kael flinched, trying to leap back, but it was too late. He'd been baited.
Blood streamed from his chest. His breath caught, stuttering.
Across from him, Galleon clutched his arm, blood dripping through his fingers. But his grin never faded.
Both stood their ground, panting, blades lowered just slightly.
Their standoff echoed in silence, save for the drip of blood and the pounding of their hearts.
One mistake… that's all it took.
And this fight was far from over.
Galleon's voice cut through the heavy air.
"You had a clean strike… yet you held back."
His eyes narrowed, the grin gone now. "Why? You could've ended this."
Kael didn't answer. His blade trembled slightly in his grip, his breathing shallow.
"Tch," Galleon scoffed. "Well, it doesn't matter. Don't blame me when your arrogance is the reason you die here."
He took a slow breath… and then, whispered:
"Now strike, my enemy… Aquila."
A surge of energy exploded from Galleon's blade—violent, wild, yet refined. The air around him quaked from the sheer pressure. His stance lowered, precise—Waki no Kamae. A side stance of execution.
Kael's eyes widened.
The raw power—this must be one of his techniques.
He gritted his teeth.
No choice. He had to answer it.
Kael grounded his stance, inhaled deeply, and drew his blade in front of him. He channeled everything—his pain, his panic, his will—into the edge of his weapon.
No technique. No style. Just instinct and resolve.
A thin layer of innergy sparked to life along the steel—unstable, but alive.
Just like he did against Kazuki.
This wasn't a technique… not yet.
And he couldn't move while maintaining it—not without breaking the flow.
So he waited.
Tense. Ready.
His heart pounded.
He had one shot.
If he could dodge the incoming strike—he could end this.
Galleon lunged, a blur of motion, his blade roaring with compressed innergy. The ground cracked beneath his feet from the force of his charge, air splitting with the speed of his strike. But Kael stood still—focused, calculating—his eyes tracing every movement like a hawk watching its prey.
And then—
He moved.
A swift sidestep, fluid like water slipping through cracks, placed him just outside the arc of Galleon's blade. Time seemed to slow for a breath.
In one seamless motion, Kael twisted his body and brought his sword upward in a fierce diagonal slash. The steel sang as it sliced through air—and flesh.
Galleon's eyes widened. A violent cough escaped him, blood spattering from his lips as Kael's blade tore through his shoulder. The force of the blow hurled him back, his boots skidding against the stone before his body collapsed into a heap.
Kael's blade trembled in his grip, dripping crimson onto the cold earth. His breaths were sharp and uneven, heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum.
He stared at the motionless figure before him. The strike had been precise—deliberate. Not too deep. Not fatal.
He hadn't fought to kill.
Just enough… to stop him.
The battlefield quieted, as if holding its breath. And in that moment, Kael realized—every step he took toward saving her might leave another body behind.
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