Chapter 322: The Cascade Stance

 

  “LET THE 12TH MATCH OF THE CHALLENGE OF SPELL & STEEL… BEGIN!!”

 

  Unalla Noir grabbed the hilt of her blade, “Heed my call, Votum!”

  Stryg cursed under his breath and crouched on the ground. 

  Brown mana flowed into Unalla’s arms and a bronze metallic sheen swirled across her blue-grey skin as the strengthening Vigor spell took hold.

  Unalla lifted the gigantic heavy sword above her head with only a single arm. The winds howled around the arena and pooled around the black sword as it pulsed with power.

  “What is the Monster in the Dark after!? Why did it attack Widow’s Crag that night!? Where is the Monster now!?” Unalla shouted above the powerful winds.

  Stryg dug his hands into the sand and he rested on the tips of his feet, ready to sprint. He silently cast an Agility spell over his legs as he shouted back, “Are you really a Noir?”

  “I am.”

  “Good, I hate the Noirs,” he bared his fangs.

  “So you won’t tell me?” Unalla gave him a solemn look and swung her sword down. A blast of energy ripped through the ground and spiraled towards Stryg with frightening speed.

  He dashed away, the wave of energy glanced past him. Stryg tumbled into the sand in a roll and landed on his knees in a crouched position. He quickly dug his hands back into the sand and rested his weight on the tips of his feet. 

  “You’re fast,” Unalla noted quietly. She raised her sword. A cyclone of wind swirled around her blade.

  The winds suddenly fell silent. The air above Stryg warped. His pointed ears twitched at the loss of pressure.

  Move! his instincts screamed.

  Stryg dived into the sands several paces away. The air exploded above where he had just been and punched into the sand with such force it punctured a 2-meter wide crater into the arena.

  “What is this…?!” he mumbled in surprise.

  “I’m impressed. You somehow managed to dodge that. But what about the next one or the next dozen?” Unalla asked aloofly. 

  Stryg hissed and dug his hands into the sand in the same crouched position as before.

  The winds fell silent. Stryg leaped back. The air exploded above where he had been, but this time the explosion had come from his right.

  Unalla didn’t speak. She simply pointed her blade at Stryg.

  He felt the air pressure change. Something felt off… something towards his… BACK!

  Stryg kicked off the sand. The air behind him burst as if a boulder had slammed into the ocean. The sand blew over his face, but he ignored it and crouched once more, his hands wrist-deep in the sand.

  Unalla pointed her sword high up. The air exploded with a deafening crack.  The blue goblin had dodged again. Unalla gritted her teeth and pointed her sword into the sky again.

  Over and over she attacked, each explosion growing stronger and each coming faster than the last. 

  Yet somehow the Aspirant had kept managing to evade being directly hit, even if only by a hair’s breadth. He had been blasted away from the aftershock several times, his body had slammed into the sands with heavy hits, but he always rolled back up in that crouched position, ready to jump away once more.

  The Aspirant had run around the entire arena; each attack left him with more scrapes than before, but he still got up without falter.

  How is he doing that? Unalla frowned. There’s no sound, there’s no visible attack!

  Votum’s ability should have been unavoidable, yet somehow the goblin knew where to move.

  Unalla’s eyes widened in realization, It doesn’t matter how he’s doing it. The Aspirant has always been aggressive in his battles, but this time he’s not trying to counterattack... He’s trying to wear me out.

  “I need your help, Votum,” Unalla whispered.

  Unalla pulled her sword back. Her arm burned with pain as the sword pulsed with more power. The winds howled, twice as loud as before. A small cyclone formed around the orichalcum blade.

  Stryg stiffened as he watched the sand blow across the entire arena. He couldn’t run from this. He dropped to his knees, slammed his hands into the sand, and channeled green mana into the earth. Five thick layers of rock sprang up around him and wrapped him in a cocoon of reinforced stone.

  With a gentle and slow motion, Unalla let her blade fall forward. A cyclone of wind weaved into existence around her and swept out in a tidal wave of energy that swept across the arena. The coliseum’s crowds screamed as the cyclone’s aftershock smashed them back into their seats.

  The powerful gales tore away at Stryg’s stone dome, shattering each layer. Stryg covered himself in Yellow’s durability scales and hid his face behind his arms. His body was tossed through the air like a ragdoll, then the air quieted and he plummeted straight down. 

  The sand did little to soften the fall. Stryg’s yellow scales cracked on impact, some even broke altogether. His vision blurred, but he could still hear, he could still feel the pain arching across his back.

  He groaned painfully and blinked hard several times until his eyes adjusted and his sight returned. 

  “Are you ready to tell me what you know now?” Unalla called out coldly. 

  Stryg slowly raised his head and looked at her. She had a lithe, thin body, as was common among her kind, yet unlike most drows, Unalla was short, shorter than any drow he had met. Many a drow might have dismissed her as harmless, but it was her eyes that gave all of them pause.

  Her grey eyes were filled with a steel anger that somehow seemed dispassionate and deadly all at once. She carried herself with a confidence born not out of pride, but conviction.

  Ah… that’s why she seemed so dangerous when we first met, Stryg thought, half-dazed.

  He had seen that intimidating look in her eyes before. He had seen it in the eyes of the most powerful arch-mage in all the Ebon Realm.

  Until now he had doubted her claim, but now there was no doubt in his mind. She is a Noir.

  Stryg rolled onto his back and sighed with closed eyes, This won’t be easy.

  “You still refuse to talk, Aspirant?” Unalla raised her blade.

  He channeled yellow mana into his palm and tried to cast a wind spell, but the wind did not answer.

  So her sword really does control the wind… I need to get close, but she’s a swordmaster. A master with a far more powerful weapon than Nameless. 

  But he had fought swordmasters before. He had fought Clypeus many times and despite his lack of skill, he had managed to match Clypeus strike for strike. Stryg didn’t have the refined sword skills of an aristocrat who had trained with the blade since young, but he had something not even Unalla did not.

  Stryg took a deep, tired breath, “Here goes nothing.” 

  White mana surged into his hands. A flash of blinding light erupted from his palms. Unalla closed her eyes and swung her sword outward; a blast of wind tore through the sand in front of her.

  Unalla opened her eyes, but Stryg was gone. She looked around in alarm. There was no trace of his body left. Where is he!?

  A faint shadow crossed over her. Unalla stiffened and looked up with a sudden jerk. Stryg’s silhouette blotted out the sun. He crashed down from the sky like a comet. In one fluid motion, Stryg drew Nameless from its sheath and slashed down in a blur of silver steel.

  Unalla gritted her teeth and hauled Votum over her body in an abrupt parry. The swords clashed in a burst of sparks, sending Unalla tumbling back, her feet dragging through the sand. 

  A bronze sheen swirled in a smoky pattern over Stryg’s blue skin, the mark of vigor magic. 

  Stryg stared at his foe. His hand stung from the reverberating power of clashing against Votum. Even a single parry had been enough to feel the sheer energy lurking with the black sword. Still, he had managed to knock her back.

  Her sword doesn’t empower her body, Stryg noted to himself. She still has the normal body of a drow. Her vigor spells and lifeforce skills can only take her muscles so far. Which means… I can do this!

  Stryg shifted his feet and fell into the cascade stance. He dashed at Unalla and swung his blade down at her shoulder. But this time Unalla was ready. She met his blade with her own. As the swords clashed a wave of wind surged out from Votum and tore through, ripping his cloak and shirt to shreds, yet there was no blood.

  Fresh Yellow scales wrapped around his skin. There were small cracks, but the durability scales had not shattered.

  Unalla’s eyes widened in shock, Double casting body enhancements!? That’s not possible!

  Stryg clenched his jaw and ignored the wave of energy. He pushed through the wind and swung his sword at her hip. Unalla blocked with her own strike, another blast of wind echoing from the sword. The blast tore at Stryg’s yellow scales, splitting several with small cracks, but he dug his feet into the sand and pushed forward with another slash.

  Unalla blocked each attack, her sword’s power echoing out with each blow. Every strike sent Stryg back, but he held his ground and struck again.

  Unalla stared at him, dumbfounded. He can’t hold the double spells forever. His scales won’t last much longer! Votum or his own body’s limit, either way, if he doesn’t stop he’ll die!

  Stryg roared with a crazed fervor. A dozen small cuts bled through the gaps in his cracked scales, yet he kept attacking anyway.

  Unalla glared at him, “Stop, you stubborn bastard! You’re killing yourself!”

  Stryg grinned maniacally, “Not if I kill you first!”

  He swung his blade again, and again in a flurry of steel. Nameless sang in his hand, a song of nature and its primal essence, freedom. His sword snapped around each of Votum’s strikes. Nameless blurred in a myriad pattern of silver, a faint wind coalescing around the blade. With each strike of Nameless, the wind grew stronger and the blade’s strikes faster. 

  Unalla found herself being pushed back. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for each strike. Each strike became harder and harder to parry. She didn’t understand! She was the better swordsman, how was she losing!? 

  The shredding waves of Votum slammed into Stryg, but they did not touch him. A new wind, one that did not answer Votum’s call, curled around Nameless and slipped through Votum’s power, like a ship in a storm.

  It’s not possible! Unalla thought in a panic. Votum was the master of the air, the winds only answered to the black blade. And yet a small storm grew stronger and stronger over Stryg as if screaming in defiance, swiveling through each of Votum’s attacks.

  Unalla didn’t want to admit it, but a small part of her knew. She knew what this was. Her blade instructors had warned her to never fight one of them. She had heard the stories whispered among the realm’s finest weapon masters… of a blade they all feared, a sword style that embodied nature itself. She hadn’t believed them. 

  Unalla felt a chill run down her spine. This isn’t magic… this is… the Gale Style…!

  Stryg’s blade slipped past her defenses and cut a shallow slash across her cheek.

  I’m going to lose! a fearful voice whispered in her mind. 

  Stryg’s open hand stretched out and grazed her neck, his claws grasping around her throat.

  “No!” Unalla roared.

  Her lungs burned, the raw power of Votum felt as if an iron boulder was pushing over her shoulder, threatening to crush her life. But she couldn’t stop, not now, not yet! She called forth as much of Votum’s power as she could handle and swung her sword in a single clean strike. A ripple of jade energy exploded out in a titanic slash, ten paces tall.

  Stryg felt his body be pulled in as if the jade slash was eager to devour him. He dragged Nameless in front of him and met the strange force with his blade. 

  The world suddenly turned white. His body felt numb. The grit of sand filled his mouth. He was on the ground, lying on his back. He couldn’t move. His ears rang with a painful screech. He slowly glanced at his right hand. His fingers were covered in blood, still clenched around Nameless’ hilt… The sword’s blade extended out from the hilt a mere 4 inches in a jagged line. The remnants of Nameless were scattered in a slew of silver shards over the bloodied sand.