The sun spilled golden light across the cobbled streets of the city, the city alive with its usual roar of rchants, smiths, and adventurers. Alex strolled out of the guild hall.
What weighed on his mind more was last night’s session. He had landed a strike on Nyx. Not much in the grand sche of things, but enough to remind him that improvent was possible, even against soone who felt untouchable. That single mont replayed over and over in his head, fueling his hunger for more.
"Alex!"
The voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Serah, the crimson-haired B-rank adventurer, jogging toward him. She was dressed not in her usual light armor, but in training gear—a snug tunic and fitted pants, her longsword slung across her back. Her green eyes sparkled with determination.
"Morning," Alex greeted, raising a brow.
"You look... ready for sothing."
Serah stopped in front of him, catching her breath. "I am. I heard from the vice guild leader that you train relentlessly, even outside the dungeon. I want to test myself against you. A spar."
Her declaration was firm, but beneath it, he caught the faintest trace of nerves.
Alex tilted his head, studying her. "You want to spar with ?"
"Yes." She nodded, jaw tightening. "I need to know the gap. Between soone like , and soone like you."
For a mont, silence stretched. Alex could have refused—he wasn’t the type to indulge in needless duels—but he saw the fire in her eyes. This wasn’t simple curiosity. She wanted to asure herself, to feel the wall she had to climb.
He gave a small smirk. "Alright. But don’t regret it."
Serah’s lips curled into a grin. "I won’t."
They headed to the guild’s private training grounds, a wide open space walled in by stone and reinforced with protective barriers. It was where adventurers tested themselves without fear of breaking half the city.
A small crowd gathered as word spread quickly: Serah was going to spar with Alex.
Whispers rose through the audience.
"Is she crazy?"
"She’s strong, but he’s on another level..."
"Still, I want to see how a Black Rank moves..."
Serah ignored them, rolling her shoulders as she drew her longsword. The blade glead under the sun, well-maintained and sharp. She sank into her stance, feet light, eyes focused.
Alex, in contrast, looked almost lazy. He rolled his wrist, summoning his own sword from his item box. His stance was casual, blade resting loosely at his side, his expression unreadable.
The referee, an older guild instructor, looked between them. "This is a friendly spar. No killing blows. Begin when ready!"
Serah didn’t hesitate. The mont the signal rang, she charged forward, her sword cutting through the air in a clean, decisive arc.
Clang!
Alex parried with minimal effort, his wrist flicking casually. The impact reverberated up Serah’s arms, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on. She followed with a low sweep, then a thrust toward his chest.
Alex sidestepped the thrust, his expression calm. "Your form’s good. Stable footing. But you’re too eager to close distance."
Her eyes narrowed, irritation flashing. "Don’t lecture while holding back!"
She twisted her body, spinning into an overhead strike. Alex raised his sword lazily, eting her blade with the flat of his own. The ground trembled from the force Serah poured into it—but Alex didn’t budge an inch.
Gasps rose from the crowd.
Serah leapt back, panting slightly. He hadn’t even shifted his stance. He’s not even trying.
Gritting her teeth, Serah poured mana into her body. Her veins glowed faintly, and the wind around her stirred as her aura sharpened.
Alex raised a brow. Body reinforcent. She’s pushing herself already.
She vanished forward, her speed doubling. This ti her strikes ca faster, harder—slashes in rapid succession, thrusts aid at his throat, his ribs, his legs. Each blow rang like thunder as she forced her blade to move faster than most could follow.
And yet—
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Alex blocked them all with one hand, his blade moving in minimal arcs. His face remained calm, though his eyes tracked her with sharp precision.
"Better," he said softly.
"Don’t mock !" Serah snapped, her frustration building. She pivoted, aiming a heavy slash at his neck, but Alex tilted his head and let the blade whistle past harmlessly.
The crowd murmured in awe. He was reading her like an open book.
Alex decided to move.
The next mont, Serah’s eyes widened as his sword blurred. A strike so fast she barely had ti to cross her blade in defense. The impact sent her skidding backward across the dirt, her arms screaming from the force.
Too strong...!
She dug her heels in, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down her temple. Alex hadn’t moved from his relaxed stance.
"That’s the pressure difference," Alex said. "I haven’t even used magic yet. Just pure swordsmanship and strength."
Serah trembled—not from fear, but from exhilaration. Her lips curved into a grin. "Good. Show more."
She roared, mana flaring around her like a scarlet fla. Her blade glowed faintly as she poured everything into one desperate strike.
Her sword ca down with enough force to split stone—
—and t Alex’s blade.
This ti, Alex allowed her strike to push him back a single step. Sparks exploded, dust flying from the shockwave. Gasps rippled through the audience.
"She forced him back!"
"No way!"
Serah’s chest swelled with pride, even as her arms shook violently from the clash.
Alex t her gaze, eyes sharp. "...Not bad. But you’re wide open."
Before she could react, his free hand shot forward, two fingers lightly tapping her forehead.
Thwack!
She stumbled back, stunned—not by pain, but by the sheer humiliation. He hadn’t even used his blade.
Laughter broke out among the spectators.
"Did you see that?’’
"He tapped her like a kid!"
Serah’s cheeks burned crimson. "You—!"
But Alex’s expression softened, his tone calm. "You’re strong, Serah. Stronger than most at your rank. But strength without calm will always leave openings."
Her anger faltered at his words. She saw no mockery in his eyes, only truth.
Serah steadied her breathing, lowering her blade. "One last strike. If I can’t land it, I’ll admit defeat."
Alex’s smirk returned. "Fine. Show everything."
She crouched low, mana burning brighter than ever. The ground beneath her cracked from the force of her aura. Every muscle in her body scread as she prepared her strongest attack.
"HAHHHH!"
She lunged, her sword gleaming as it tore through the air with blinding speed.
Alex closed his eyes.
The mont her blade reached him, he twisted slightly, letting it graze past his cheek—before bringing his own sword down in a clean arc.
The edge stopped an inch from her throat.
The crowd went silent.
Serah froze, her sword stuck in the dirt at his side, while his blade hovered at her neck. She panted heavily, sweat soaking her tunic, her body trembling from the effort.
Alex opened his eyes and t hers. "Good effort. But the gap is still too wide."
She bit her lip, lowering her sword slowly. "...I know."
The referee raised his voice. "Winner: Alex!"
Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, though many shook their heads in disbelief at the overwhelming difference.
Alex sheathed his sword with a casual motion, rolling his shoulders. He offered a hand to Serah, who hesitated before taking it. His grip was firm, steady, and strangely reassuring.
"You’ve got talent," Alex said quietly. "Don’t waste it chasing . Grow at your own pace."
Her eyes widened, then softened. She nodded. "I’ll rember that."
As the crowd dispersed, whispers filled the air again.
"Alex is terrifying..."
"Even holding back, he’s untouchable."
"But Serah... she’s got guts. To stand up like that..."
Alex walked off the field, his mind calm. He hadn’t shown even a fraction of his true power. But the spar wasn’t pointless. It had reminded him of sothing important: not every battle was about dominance. Sotis, it was about teaching.
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