Chapter 110| Sparks for Sport(First Gift Bonus - )
Halden proposed the idea over breakfast on the sixth morning, half-joking at first, though the considerable, gleaming interest in his eyes suggested he’d been turning the thought over for several days already.
"I want to see you all actually fight," he said, buttering his toast with deliberate casualness that fooled absolutely no one at the table. "Properly, I mean. Not the desperate, life-or-death engagements I’ve read about in your reports. Something for the simple, considerable joy of it."
Irene’s eyes lit immediately. "A sparring match?"
"An exhibition," Halden clarified, warming to the idea visibly. "The resort has a private training clearing near the island’s eastern shore. Nothing dangerous, obviously — controlled intensity, full safety precautions. I simply find myself curious what your considerable abilities actually look like when they’re not being deployed against something trying to kill you."
Myria considered the proposal with sharp, immediate interest. "It could be good practice, honestly. We haven’t properly sparred against each other in weeks, and complacency during peacetime has a way of costing dearly once genuine danger returns."
"Then it’s settled," Halden said, delighted. "This afternoon. I fully intend to watch every moment."
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The training clearing proved considerably more elaborate than Allen expected — a wide, sand-floored arena ringed by protective wards clearly designed for exactly this kind of controlled, recreational combat, and by the time the group assembled that afternoon, word had apparently spread among the resort’s small, discreet staff, several of whom had gathered at a respectful distance, curiosity evident despite their professional restraint.
"Rules?" Vivian asked, already stretching with the fluid, easy grace of someone thoroughly looking forward to the exercise.
"Controlled intensity," Myria said firmly. "No system-augmented strikes beyond baseline Supreme-tier output. First clean hit or verbal yield ends the round. We’re demonstrating skill, not settling scores."
"Boring but reasonable," Irene said, though her flames were already flickering with restless, eager anticipation.
They paired off gradually — Irene against Vivian first, the two of them moving through an exchange that carried all the fierce, controlled elegance of a proper anime duel, flame meeting blade in bright, cinematic bursts that drew genuine, delighted applause from the gathered staff. Irene’s aggressive, overwhelming assault met Vivian’s precise, economical counters in a rhythm that spoke to months of hard-won mutual respect, ending finally in Vivian’s blade resting lightly against Irene’s throat, both women breathless and grinning despite the round’s conclusion.
"Rematch," Irene declared immediately, and Vivian’s answering laugh carried genuine, fond exasperation.
Myria and Everlyn’s exchange proved a considerably different spectacle — ice and root working in strange, beautiful counterpoint, Myria’s crystalline formations clashing against Everlyn’s surging, resonant vines in patterns that looked, from the gathered onlookers’ vantage point, almost choreographed in their fluid, controlled intensity. The match ended in a draw, both women laughing too hard at their own considerable, evenly-matched stubbornness to properly continue.
It was Allen’s turn against Halden that drew the most enthusiastic, delighted reaction from the gathered crowd — the Association chairman proving considerably more skilled than his earlier, undignified jet ski performance had suggested, his own decades of combat experience showing in careful, measured footwork that made Allen work genuinely hard to find an opening.
"You’re better than you let on," Allen said, deflecting a surprisingly sharp strike.
"Four decades in this profession," Halden said, grinning despite his exertion, "and you assumed I simply sat behind a desk the entire time?"
The exchange built toward its natural, satisfying conclusion — Allen finally finding his opening through a feint Ashkar’s Ancestor Blade training had taught him months earlier, Ashfall Talons stopping just short of contact as Halden raised his hands in good-natured, breathless surrender.
"Yield," Halden declared, laughing. "Thoroughly, and without shame."
The gathered staff’s applause carried genuine, delighted warmth, and the group settled into the clearing’s shaded edge afterward, exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure, passing around water and the resort’s considerable supply of fresh, tropical fruit while they recounted the afternoon’s various exchanges with animated, overlapping enthusiasm.
"That was considerably more fun than I expected combat to be, without genuine danger attached," Everlyn said, still catching her breath.
"It’s what fighting’s actually supposed to feel like," Myria said thoughtfully. "Skill for its own sake, rather than desperate survival. I’d nearly forgotten that particular pleasure existed."
Halden, sprawled inelegantly against the sand with his own considerable exhaustion, glanced around at the assembled group with warm, genuine satisfaction. "Thank you," he said, "for indulging an old man’s curiosity. I don’t think I’ve had this much genuine fun in years."
"Anytime," Allen said, meaning it completely, and the group settled into comfortable, exhausted silence, the afternoon sun beginning its slow descent toward evening, five people and one considerable, unexpected friend savoring the particular, uncomplicated joy of strength deployed purely for the simple pleasure of demonstrating it.
Cole, who’d watched the entire exhibition from the clearing’s edge with quiet, appreciative fascination, finally spoke up as the group began gathering their things. "I don’t think I fully understood what SS-rank actually looked like in practice until today," he admitted. "Reading about it in briefing reports is one thing. Watching it happen this close, for fun rather than survival, is something else entirely."
"You’ll get there," Irene said confidently, bumping her shoulder against his. "Give it a few more years."
"Optimistic of you," Cole said, though his answering grin carried genuine, grateful warmth.
"I’m an optimistic person," Irene said, entirely unbothered by the observation. "Comes with the whole phoenix bloodline package, probably. Rebirth and all that."
They made their way back toward the villa as the sun continued its golden descent, the day’s considerable exertion giving way to comfortable, companionable exhaustion, and Allen found himself walking beside Halden near the group’s rear, the older man’s expression carrying quiet, reflective satisfaction despite his obvious fatigue.
"I meant what I said earlier," Halden said quietly. "About genuine fun. I’d nearly forgotten what that actually felt like, buried under four decades of increasingly weighty responsibility."
"I’m glad we could remind you," Allen said.
"So am I," Halden said, glancing toward him with warm, genuine affection. "More than you probably realize."
They continued on in comfortable, companionable silence, the villa’s warm lights coming into view against the deepening twilight, and Allen felt the day’s accumulated joy settle contentedly into place alongside everything else this remarkable week had already given all of them.