Chapter 342: You are not one of them
Ysara looked at Ethan with interest, her golden eyes narrowing slightly as she held her greatsword with grace and delicacy.
At first glance, it seemed like a clumsy grip. But Ysara was a Fifth-Stage Awakened One, a being capable of living a thousand years and flying through the skies.
She could hold that sword with a single finger, and the power it unleashed would still be infinitely greater than anything Ethan could muster.
The Young Lord watched her cautiously, his fingers wrapped firmly around the hilt of the God-Slayer, his breathing slow and controlled.
As he channeled his aura through the blade, a thin golden line surfaced on the steel. It branched into four brilliant threads that wound around the sword, each one igniting into blazing golden flames.
Those were divine flames. Well, almost. He didn’t have enough divinity to summon true divine flames, but he would soon figure that out.
"You may begin," Ysara said casually, her delicate fingers brushing a strand of white hair from her eyes.
Ethan did not hesitate.
The muscles in his legs tensed. The concrete cracked beneath his feet, and his body tore through the air, the blade leaving a golden trail that burst into flames behind him.
He held nothing back.
The Burning Blood Body Strengthening Technique, the Lost Crimson Blade Technique, the Golden Steps—he used them all at once.
When he reappeared, he was already standing before Ysara, his blade descending upon her with a sharp whistle.
The strike seemed poised to bite into Ysara’s shoulder when her blade flowed up to meet it—so slowly that Ethan almost considered pulling back his power, though he knew he couldn’t hurt her even if he tried.
A loud crack echoed through the arena, golden sparks scattering through the air the instant the two blades met.
The impact shot up Ethan’s arms, rattling his bones and leaving his fingers numb around the hilt.
"It’s powerful, my love, but..." The voice came from behind him. Ysara had appeared at his back without the slightest sound, her long, shapely right leg already rising. "Too mortal."
Her delicate foot sank into his lower back, forcing the air out of his lungs in one go.
He slammed into the concrete floor of the training platform with a dull thud, cracks spreading like spiderwebs around his body.
Fine dust rose, scratching his throat with a stony taste.
"Too mortal? What does that mean?" Ethan asked through a groan of pain, rolling onto his back.
"Hm..." Ysara considered it for a moment, then shifted her body. "What do you think of my current stance?" she asked, the tip of her enormous sword pressed against the floor, her fingers curled around the cross-shaped hilt, one hand on each side.
Her back arched slightly, thrusting her full, firm buttocks out into the air. The fabric of her dress stretched taut, hugging every sensual curve, so thin it traced even the deep line between her cheeks.
As she settled into the pose, her ample flesh jiggled once—a soft, heavy sway, slow and languid, that the tight, thin cloth did nothing to hide.
Bent forward over the hilt like that, her heavy breasts pressed together between her arms, their soft weight swelling against her neckline.
It was sensual, certainly, the kind of thing he would have greatly appreciated in an erotic game back on Earth. In this cruel world, however, he could only see that posture as sloppy.
In a real battle, it was asking to die.
"It’s... sexy, but useless," Ethan replied, planting the God-Slayer into the ground and pulling himself to his feet with the help of the hilt.
"Then try to attack me," Ysara said lightly, her cheek resting against the silver hilt of her sword, her golden eyes tinged with amusement.
The Young Lord nodded, steadied his sword, and advanced once more.
The God-Slayer sliced through the air, trailing golden flames, and crashed down upon Ysara in a burst of fire.
Ethan felt resistance and, for a moment, thought he’d landed a hit. The next instant, Ysara was standing right beside him, not a single strand of white hair out of place.
The flat of her sword struck his back with a thud, slamming him into the ground once again.
Dust billowed up. The concrete beneath him cracked.
Fortunately, the arena had self-repairing arrays, and the cracks soon closed, the stone smoothing over as if nothing had happened.
"Hm... that sword is... incredible," Ysara murmured, examining her own weapon, its silver blade covered in cracks.
The gap between the Fifth Stage and the Third was the gap between a slightly stronger mortal and a demigod. And she had still been actively using her aura to protect the blade.
Even so, Ethan’s sword had bitten into hers, terrible cracks spreading across the steel.
One more strike and her sword would break.
It was only a random low-quality weapon—not her primary one—but breaking the weapon of a Fifth-Stage Awakened while still at the Third Stage was a huge feat.
Sighing, she looked at Ethan, still sprawled on the ground.
His blue eyes traced her figure as she rose, floating a few meters into the air in a display of one of the best-known abilities of a Fifth-Stage Awakened: flight.
"Swordplay, footwork, posture." Ysara spun the sword between her fingers with elegance, her body drifting slowly back down.
Her black shoes touched down in front of Ethan with a soft click.
"Do you know why the Fifth Stage is considered the first step toward the realm of the demigods?" she asked nonchalantly.
Ethan, still lying on his back, shook his head.
"Because it’s the level where all of this loses its meaning. You’ll begin to understand what I mean when you reach the Fourth Stage, and you should understand everything by the time you reach the Fifth. When that moment comes, be ready to abandon everything you’ve learned from your masters."
"When your sword..."
She swung the blade carelessly.
A roar echoed as the steel broke the sound barrier, and a gust of wind swept across the arena, blowing Ethan’s golden hair back.
"...moves that fast, fighting like a mortal will only slow you down."
"There are fencing styles practiced by true experts. The ones your guards train in, from the fourth form onward, are a prime example."
"But the ones you learned from your father’s masters are of little use to anyone above the Fourth Stage, and useless to those who have passed the Fifth."
"Abandon them. Find a new technique that suits you, or simply start using only that Golden Dragon Emperor’s Fencing taught to your army."
"What you learned from the Darkwall Family was designed for the mediocre and those with no future. You are not one of them. You are not your father."