"Melvin! You should be more supportive of Dalis. Where did your enthusiasm go since the last two times we did this?"

"Hmph. I do not wish to provide this insect with a sense of encouragement, only for him to fall early." Melvin turned his head away from the huddle.

"Indeed. I cannot understand something I have yet to experience." Dalis mischievously smiled.

"You!—Gahh." The sudden extension of movements had pulled and spiked pain to run across Melvin's injured joints. Consequently, the huddle was abruptly broken.

"Careful!" Stilla cried out in worry.

"Okay okay let's not hold up Dalis any longer." Clapping her hands together to call attention, the owner of the voice ambled to the children raising a ruckus.  

"Sister Edna." Dalis shifted himself to meet the last person to send him his kind regards. The tone of his sounded as though it was amplified an octave louder.

"Dalis, you may not be like the rest of your peers, but you are very smart and talented so I'm sure you would be able to surprise everyone out there." She walked up to Dalis and gently rested her warm hand atop his shoulder. "You are going to have a bright future ahead of you. So Sister wishes you to keep yourself safe, and don't do anything that may come to harm you." 

Dalis stared at her expressive, tender eyes and returned her message with a look that would ease her heartfelt worries. 

Sister Edna's thumping heart was cleansed by a wave of relief. The countenance of her face relaxed, and she moved her available arm across his open shoulder.

"Good luck!!"

 

***

 

"Dean Fernsby and Dalis, please walk up to the arena." 

Flexing his fairly muscular arms in the air, Dean entered the stage brandishing his two powder blue steel axes in the air with frosty cold energy misting around his icy-coloured heavy-duty attire. Accompanied by his flowing curly platinum blond hair left uncut, Dean's debut resembled a triumphant knight having finished conquering a snow kingdom. 

Dean eagerly eyeballed across the stage to meet his opponent. When he saw that his opponent was a young boy in his early to mid-teens, the man became conceited and scoffed under his breath at his attire. 

The boy wore a white, short, collared shirt with a split down the middle, like an unbuttoned shirt, worn over a strapped leather plate atop a dark grey underneath. His lower half showcased his beige baggy pants strapped by a crude leather belt. "At least the belt had a steel buckle," Dean thought. 

(Conceited, but his equipment is something I need to be attentive of. I must win to meet Sister Edna's expectations.) Dalis's eyes were as still as water, yet rippled and leaked out with his ironclad determination.

"You from the Caleyar Orphanage young man?" Dean asked in interest.

"Yes." Dalis nodded.

"So I can expect you to use the Vanquish Style techniques. . . ." He peered over to Dalis's steel bo staff questionably. The staff was a little shorter than usual, which he found puzzling, but that was supposedly appropriate for a child. So instead, he asked the other query in his mind. "Did the Orphanage teach you guys techniques involving blunt staves?" 

"No."

"*Chuckle* It's alright. Use whatever that suits your tastes. I look forward to your martial combat. He gazed towards the judge and asked him to begin the match.

"Participant Dalis are you ready?" 

"I am ready."

"Then, without further ado, you two may now begin the duel."

As soon as the battle commenced, Dalis dashed off. 

"Wait that knight?!" a young girl cried out. 

"That explains why he is so decked out!" a child exclaimed.

The crowd sprung into hollers.

Contrary to the expectations of the audience, they saw the knight's muscular arms sway in odd mannerisms as he held the powder blue steel axes. Yet, this holding was definitely not strange to many of the knowledgeable watchers, especially those from Cresuilge Kingdom. 

Dean was not holding the axes in his hands: the axes were held in the air.

A cerulean blue translucent light glowed upon the surface of the presently airborne weapons. The harmonious mixture of blues complemented their outward appearance, stealing the attention of the crowd to witness their imposing rise to the stage. 

(The glowing intensity is cerulean in colour. I can probably assume this would be the same for his enchanted gear as well. I will have to be careful of any abilities if they arise.) Dalis's movements were relentless and unperturbed by the display. Identical to a mage, enchanters required time to be built to fully manipulate and control objects. Therefore, Dalis's wisest choice of move was to assault the operator before he could gain perfect control.

"Not bad young man, you aren't stopping your pursuit at all. Too bad I'm not like those other enchanters who only show off that they can levitate two heavy weapons." 

Twenty meters before Dalis could hinder him, the steel axes pointed one face of their sharp axe-head and vertically rolled towards him. 

Sensing the incoming threat from the corner of his eyes, Dalis slowed his pursuit to fend off against the flying steel axes.

Sliding his fingers through the thick, smooth surface, he gripped his staff into thirds, held it out horizontally, and began rotating his body in a swift series of steps. Each step was accompanied by a revolving swing encompassing a stabilised balanced force. No movement fluctuated above or below this congruous equilibrium.

Dean's jaw dropped slightly, and his eyes revealed shock. The trusty steel axes he had forged with his own bare hands were unable to penetrate a single blow into Dalis's stance. It was as if his opponent had an impenetrable force field that blocked every attack. Although there were many times the child was tarried backwards from his blades, it was unable to budge the pacing of his advancement. Slowly, but surely, he was creeping closer.

Dalis wordlessly continued onwards, and then suddenly surged his tempered swings to an extreme level of balanced rhythms. Swishing and swooshing the air, and parrying the cleaves and sweeps of the axes. Unlike before, his swings were not like the steady winds flowing in the grace of nature, but rather the swings were like controlled waves of boiling lava from a volcanic crater.

Those nearby and viewing from the upper seating of the Stage of Knights had looks of confusion. 

"Why is he trying so hard to defend now?" 

"That child did not waver at all from the knight's flying axes. Is he finally planning to strike?"

"He is still moving so slow, though? Did the knight increase the potency of his attacks?"   

While the upper seating spectators were tangled in their questions, those below were able to recognise the dire predicament Dalis was in. The sleeves of his shirt, the fabrics of his beige pants, and especially his steel bo staff, layers of frost was seen attached to his body, accumulating in sprinkles with each passing step. In fact, Dalis's bo staff, subjected to the full brunt, was on the verge of transforming into an ice staff! 

The increase in tempo certainly empowered Dalis to traverse the icy storm; however, he was still naked, and it wouldn't be long until his ferocity would fall from the blizzard and enter repose. 

"Kuh-h-h-h!"

Dalis leaked out a teeth-chattering groan from the cold inducing hardening of his hands. The shivers spread across his innards spiked in chill as he had become acutely aware that some of his fingers were now frozen. 

"Young man, you got very close! But this is the end of the road for you. Whoever taught you how to use the staff like that must be an exemplary teacher." Dean gave one last gaze to the child five meters away from him and swayed his arms for the finale.  

Like a conductor closing down a performance with a baton, the piece was raised to a crescendo, following a brief stop. Then, the tune escalated down: the powder blue steel axes escalated down. 

Dalis squared his stance and glared at his opponent. Left and right, he cast a fleeting glance to the two guillotines high above his head. 

He shivered.

Not from the cold energy percolating his body.

He shivered from the tingling sensation he felt the back of his neck.

It was all he needed to jolt his resolution. 

"Haaaaaaa!!"

Dalis gave the staff in his cold hands a mighty thrust into the adamantine floor and used the rebound to vault across those precious five meters, escaping the guillotine platform.

Dean watched with eyes wide open as the escapee launched towards him. He saw him desperately carry the staff along with him, tucked close to his twisting body. It fell from his clutches and settled between his thighs; a good proportion of the length sticking out from the front. Oddly, the escapee's lips curled into a grin. And this grin did not seem to stem from his relief of preventing the drop of his weapon. It terrified Dean.  

It was as though Dalis was a devil riding a magical broomstick. Had Halloween arrived? 

*BANG!*

Dean felt the weight of the thick steel staff spear through his chest, toppling him to the floor. Before he could recover from the collision, the very point of impact was barraged by a series of thrusts from the staff, denting the armour and causing Dean to choke. 

Spectators watching the gruesome scene were daunted. It was quite vicious and merciless. 

Besides the spectators, the judge felt it was unpleasant as well, but he couldn't blame the boy considering he knew that the poor boy had a deformed mana seed and could only brutally strike to win the duel.

(Fuck this child is so ruthless! I'd be dead by now if he was a body consolidator!)

Dean eyes hovered over to the judge, glinted for a moment, and he hurriedly tried to gasp out a few words.

"H-hey young-g man can *gah* stop—"

The young man ceased his thrashing.

(Phew. I really thought I was going to be forced to retire.) Dean slowly began raising himself though only to find his head smash back down to the floor again and the thrashing to continue. It was even more savage than ever before.

When Dean peaked his eyes over to the young man, his whole body convulsed. He was scared witless. Not even two seconds had passed before he issued his surrender. 

"WOOOOOAAHH!"

After the judge called out Dean's conceded defeat, the crowd erupted into a fit of cheers. 

Painstakingly, Dalis removed himself from his defeated opponent and began sorting out his condition. 

( . . . Well that's ten points for Gryffin—)

"—ddor!!"

(!!?) Dalis zoomed his head to his left. 

Scanning the crowd, he saw thousands of heads cheering on the matches of the Stage of Knights. There was nothing in particular that caught his eye.

(Guess it was just me hearing things. I must recover quickly for the next match.)

 

Author Note: 

Upcoming releases may be slow. Details will be mentioned in the next chapter.