The battlefield was chaos. Dust rose from the trampled ground, the sound of swords clashing echoed through the morning air, and the shouts of bandits mingled with the cries of the wounded. Theo stood a short distance from Flint, his hands trembling as he gripped his sword. Flint's injured shoulder throbbed, but he steadied himself, glaring at Raghul who stood before him, laughing like a predator enjoying a show.
"Stand up," Theo said, voice firm despite the shaking. Flint gave a low growl and pushed himself into a battle stance, tail swishing defensively.
From atop the platform, Kairo's eyes scanned the battlefield. Flint's injuries worried him, but he was Tier 3—strong enough to hold his own. Theo, however… only Tier 1. Every strike, every dodge, every risk weighed heavily on Kairo's mind. He clenched his fists. "You can do this," he muttered to himself.
Raghul swung his axes in a wide arc, taunting Flint. "Come, show me something good! Don't make me regret choosing you over the penny boy!"
Flint deflected the blows with his tail, claws crashing against Raghul's axes, forcing the human back a step. Each strike pushed him closer to the edge of exhaustion, but Flint held firm, protecting himself from every attack.
Meanwhile, Theo faced Zeven. The taller swordsman's eyes were cold, calculating. Theo charged, sword held high. He slashed—Zeven dodged with ease. Theo evaded a counter, sweat beading on his forehead. Every strike he attempted was blocked or parried, and each failed attack reminded him of his inexperience. Theo's strike barely grazed Zeven's armor, and the swordsman sidestepped with fluid precision, his eyes cold and calculating. Theo spun on his heel, thrusting again, but Zeven's blade met his in a sharp clash, sparks flying from the impact. Theo stumbled backward, barely maintaining his footing on the uneven ground.
Zeven advanced with a series of short, controlled steps, forcing Theo to retreat, his strikes becoming more desperate. Theo swung horizontally, Zeven ducking under the blade and countering with a precise stab, aimed at Theo's midsection. Theo twisted, rolling aside as the tip of Zeven's sword gouged the earth.
Panting, Theo lunged forward again, attempting a feint to draw Zeven out, but Zeven anticipated the move. He parried, then shifted his weight, circling Theo, forcing him to pivot. Theo slashed diagonally, only to have Zeven deflect with the flat of his sword, sending Theo's momentum to the side.
Theo's hands shook; each strike required more effort, but Zeven's calm, measured movements made him seem untouchable. Theo barely dodged a thrust aimed at his shoulder, the wind of the blade whipping past his cheek, and he realized he needed to find a gap—fast.
He stumbled backward, chest heaving. "I can't…" he muttered under his breath, but the memory of Shiri's teachings flared within him. ,(The first step to mastering the Way of the Naga's Nature… believe in yourself, Theo.")
Theo's eyes blazed with determination. As Zeven swung, he leapt forward, placing himself in Zeven's blind spot—a strike from where no one would expect. Heart pounding, breath sharp, he gripped his sword tighter. Every instinct screamed fear, but his resolve hardened. Theo leapt forward, executing the Rattle of the Deep, his blade slashing multiple times in rapid succession. Zeven was forced to block the attack, stumbling as several strikes grazed his armor, but one strike, just one slashed his cheek, that was enough, as Theo's eyes burned with determination, his yellow irises flickering faintly. For the first time, he felt a surge of confidence—a hint of the power he could wield.
Zeven scowled, surprised. "How dare a maggot like you even spill a drop of my blood?" He lashed out with a skilled strike, Zeven's eyes flare red as he slashes with deadly precision, activating Bloodline Edge, blood red energy coving the blade, forcing Theo backward with a violent surge. Theo barely blocked, but the force threw him back, shattering his sword. He rolled, narrowly avoiding a blow to his head, blood stinging his ear from a shallow cut.
Kairo's voice echoed in his mind, frantic. "Theo!"
Flint watched helplessly, gritting his teeth. He tried to move toward Theo, but Raghul forced him back with a powerful swing, laughing as he pushed Flint away. "Where do you think you going, huh?
Theo's chest heaved as he lay on the ground. Pain and frustration threatened to overwhelm him, but then he remembered his family, his friends, the people depending on him. (No more helplessness.)
He gritted his teeth, gripping the shattered hilt of his sword. Light flared faintly from his eyes, and something deep within him awakened. Zeven instinctively covered his eyes from the brilliance. Theo's vision sharpened, focus sharpening with it.
He stood. Trembling, bruised, and battered, but resolute.
Zeven's usual calm expression faltered, replaced by a flash of alarm. "This… this boy…"
Theo raised his broken blade, fists tight. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination. "I'm not done," he whispered to himself. "I will protect my friends. I will grow stronger. No one will get hurt because of me."
The battlefield around him raged on. Flint and Raghul clashed with brutal precision, while Zeven faced a now-determined Theo. Kairo watched from above, heart in his throat, knowing this moment could define the boy's future.
Ardan stood atop a ridge, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. From afar, he watched Theo's sudden surge—yellow eyes blazing, broken sword in hand. Shock flickered across his face; this boy fought like no one expected.
Zeven tightened his grip on his sword. "You've really angered me now," he hissed, and Theo met his gaze without flinching.
To be continued....