Devol retreated a few steps and watched in astonishment as the man’s already large arms began to expand and grew even more substantial. “And I can take that force and use a little of it myself.” He swung his arm back as he took a massive step forward. “I hope you are ready for a demonstration.”
The boy raised his sword to guard as the Templar launched his fist forward. Even though he was several feet away, a force pounded into his blade, thumped the flat side into his chest, and hurled him back several feet and almost knocked the wind out of him. When he was able to touch the ground again, he tried to scrape his feet along the dirt to slow himself but was only able to lessen the impact slightly when he inevitably careened into the back wall of the arena.
Wulfsun placed his fists on his hips and laughed loudly. “Ha! You really came at me, boyo! I only added a little of my strength to that punch. Most of that was the energy you gave me. I recommend you try something a little different with your next attack. You’re beating yourself up here.”
“Would this be considered Wulfsun bullying the new kid?” Jazai asked as he leaned against the railing and frowned.
“He’s getting too into it,” Zier responded. “It’s not very surprising, of course. The boy has tremendous natural talent and shows advanced skill in swordsmanship for his age, but that won’t be enough for him to win against someone like Wulfsun.”
“Are you saying he has a chance otherwise?” the apprentice questioned with a furrowed brow.
The dryad shrugged, adjusted the cuffs of his robe, and brushed off some of the dirt that had been kicked up by the giant Templar’s assault. “Under normal circumstances, not a chance in the hells. Wulfsun is among the top warriors in the order, which would make him one of the top warriors in this realm and a good many of the others.”
“You have to be leading to a ‘but’ at some point,” Jazai remarked.
“However…” Zier began.
His apprentice rolled his eyes. “Cheeky bastard.”
“Devol’s majestic class is a perplexion, and since we don’t know what that exactly entails…well, I cannot say for certain if it is impossible.”
“Well, that is neat and all.” The boy looked at the young Magi, who had scrambled to his feet and now rubbed his left shoulder. “But he needs to use it for it to make a difference. And since he doesn’t know what it does and only learned about all this in general not too long ago, it is still a very tall order.”
“So do you think this is a pointless exercise?” the scholar asked and regarded him with interest.
Jazai smiled. “Not at all. I think it is exciting and want to get all the details right. It could make a fun story someday.”
“Humph.” Zier snorted and returned his focus to the arena. “You sound like you want to make a bet.”
The apprentice laughed, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed. What are you in for?”
“I won’t do your chores for you,” the dryad replied and smoothed the neckline of his robe. “Not again.”
“Dammit.”
“So, you coming at me again there, boy?” Wulfsun goaded, his fists clenched. “I’ll tell you right now, I won’t merely defend against your attacks from here on out.”
Devol had already assumed that. He shook his head to clear it and hefted his blade again. While he would not be able to match Wulfsun with sheer force, he had been sure of that even before the fight. His real purpose was to test his majestic’s power, so maybe he should focus on that rather than on what he knew he couldn’t do. He looked at the sword and stilled his mind. It offered no hint of what its ability was—aside from simply looking appealing—but he would never find out if he didn’t try.
He held the blade skyward and concentrated. Wulfsun and the others watched as the glowing white light enveloped the sword and it expanded dramatically and became a vast, sky-touching blade of light at least fifteen feet tall. The massive Templar’s smirk did not disappear but his armor began to strengthen reflexively in anticipation.
“So you finally brought it out proper, eh?” he remarked, hunkered down again, and spread his arms. “Very well then. I said this at the start, but now maybe you’ll understand what I meant. Come at me with everything you’ve got!”
The boy lowered the blade to chest height and held it in front of him. The dust at his feet began to swirl around him as he took a step forward. It was time to see what his sword could truly do. He walked forward slowly before he uttered a challenging roar and lunged forward to swing the blade of light at the Templar.
Chapter Fifteen
The light of Devol’s blade began to fade and he breathed heavily as he tried to peer through the dust that swirled around the arena. Zier waved his hands and Jazai shielded his eyes, although he tried desperately to find a way to peek through the haze to see what had happened.
The boy brought his sword in front of him defensively and waited for Wulfsun’s reaction. He was not sure what had happened to the commander, but he imagined that if the attack was as powerful as it felt and looked, he would be mightily pissed if he was still standing.
A spark of yellow light caught his attention before the dust blew out of the center of the arena, past him or into the air. He raised a hand to stop the dirt from getting into his eyes, but after a few moments, he peered through the cracks between his fingers. The Templar stood strong in the same position where he had been before, utterly unmoved. He cursed under his breath. Had his assault accomplished nothing? Was his majestic nothing more than a sword with a fancy type of light?
Jazai grimaced and leaned against the railing again. “Damn, was that nothing more than sparkles and prayer?” He drew a deep breath. “I know we still aren’t sure what it does and Devol isn’t properly trained yet, but it looked impressive, at least.”
“Just because it did not have the reaction you expected does not mean it did nothing at all,” Zier responded, his head inclined slightly as he observed Wulfsun.
“What do you mean?” the apprentice asked and looked from his mentor to Devol. “Did I miss something?”
“It appears the attack did not harm Wulfsun in any physical way,” the scholar said, his expression thoughtful as he stroked his chin. “But that look on his face is not one of anger or even disappointment. He looks almost…rattled?”
Jazai stared at the giant Templar, who stood firm with his arms folded again. He took a moment to study his face and scrutinize his features. Zier was right. He did not know him as well as his mentor did, but from what he could see, Wulfsun did have an odd expression. Most wouldn’t say rattled perhaps, but he did look a tad confused, even if it seemed he tried to mask it behind a façade of indifference.
Although the man stood motionless, he considered everything that had happened in silence. He felt lighter and heavier at the same time. For a very brief moment, it had felt like his Anima had almost given way. He took stock of his Mana. It had certainly drained although not by much. Perhaps he’d charged his armor a tad too much. No, he would have noticed something as obvious as that. And something else was missing too—the power his armor had siphoned from the boy’s strikes. He had used most of it while showing off before, but some had remained and he could no longer feel it.
Devol also thought things over—and most importantly, what he should do next. He had accomplished something with that attack. While he was certainly more fatigued now than a moment before and his Mana was weaker, it appeared that whatever he had done was ineffective.
Should he simply go on the offensive again? Maybe the strike did do something to Wulfsun and it was not obvious. Perhaps he had created an opening he should exploit. But if he was wrong and the Templar kept his word about not holding back, he would find himself most likely pounded into the dirt very shortly. What should he do now?
“Is that it, boyo?” the commander roared and snapped him out of his thoughts. “Unless you got something else to try, I’ll be coming for ya soon enough!”
If his strike had done something, it su
re as hell was not enough to deter the Templar. Devol glanced at his blade and contemplated setting it down. In sparring matches with his father and friends, it was a sign of respect to know when one had been bested. It meant you had that much more time to train. But seeing the man’s bravado, he felt he probably would not take it that way.
“You’re taking an awfully long look at that sword there,” Wulfsun noted and stroked his beard as he arched an eyebrow. “You do realize what it is, right?”
Devol looked at him. He wanted to say he knew and that was what he had spent all that time learning. But then he realized that more often than not, he referred to it as a blade or sword in his head. It certainly was meant to look and feel like that, but a majestic was far more than that. Maybe his power didn’t work right because he didn’t use it correctly.
“Starting to dawn on ya, then?” Wulfsun asked with a snicker. “One of the things we’ll need to train you in is to not be read so easily. A majestic is more than whatever item it happens to take the form of. It is the channel of your power to grant abilities far beyond what almost anyone is capable of. It is a majestic!” He pointed a large finger at him. “Take note of the name, boy, and focus.”
The boy looked at the weapon in his hands. He could summon the light easily enough, but he could do that even with a regular sword and a cantrip. If he wanted to take advantage of having a majestic, he should use it in a different way. He held it aloft and brought the light forth again.
“He’s going to try another big swipe?” Jazai sounded exasperated. “Maybe something clicked?”
“You still need to work on patience,” Zier noted and gestured at the young combatant. “Watch closer.”
Devol watched the light form around the blade but this time, he did not simply let it spool around the edges. Instead, he did his best to reach out to it and draw it in. The light responded to this desire and began to flow into it to course through it, consume it, and become the blade itself.
His mouth gaped as he stared at the sword now made from the light inside it. He held it out in front of him, examined it, and watched as the light danced through the blade. It shimmered in his hands and while it looked incredibly fragile at a glance, it felt like something so much more—far beyond any cantrip he had seen cast before and even different than Wulfsun’s armor. He finally understood why Zier and the others had shown such an interest in it.
“Well, it certainly looks pretty,” Wulfsun taunted. “But unless your plan is to distract your opponent with a shiny toy, it won’t be much good if you don’t put it to use.”
Devol moved his gaze from the blade to the Templar and responded with a small nod. “I agree,” he answered, took the weapon in both hands, and adjusted his stance to indicate that he was prepared to attack. “Once more, Wulfsun!”
“Aye, there you go!” his opponent bellowed and bent his knees as he clapped once. When he opened his hands, an orb of yellow light appeared that began to grow and surround him. “This defense of mine is absolute,” he declared and the barrier around him shimmered. “I can’t move while I keep this in place but nothing has ever broken through. Think you can be the first, boyo?”
Devol’s response was to swing his sword back as he leaned forward and prepared to charge. He stared at the man, who returned his gaze with his now-familiar smirk. In silence, he inched forward rather than initiate a running attack. His focus remained on keeping the light in place, but now that it filled in the entire blade, it seemed to fit naturally.
It felt right to see what it was capable of. His pace increased and soon, he pushed into a full sprint. He did not yell or utter a challenge but surged toward his adversary’s barrier with all the zeal he could muster.
Wulfsun placed his hands against the barrier as the boy approached and drew a deep breath. Now that the light-created weapon bore down on him, he felt more apprehension than he had when the blade was double his size. The boy planted his feet just short of him and drove the blade toward the barrier to strike it dead center. A blast of light flared from the sword and his shield turned a brighter yellow.
“By the Astrals, that is bright!” Zier yelled and Jazai shielded his eyes as he squinted to see who was winning through the flurry of light and Mana around the combatants.
The young Magi’s majestic remained thrust firmly against the front of the magical barrier. The shield remained a deep yellow color where the weapon had struck, and the area around it glowed a slightly less bright yellow hue. Devol continued to press the blade forward and took a couple of steps so the weapon was positioned against his ribs, which enabled him to press it harder against his opponent’s resistant magic.
The Templar was surprised by the power he faced and even struggled a little. Not only could he feel the blade push slowly into his shield, but the entire front half of his barrier also felt like it was under strain. He had been able to withstand cannons, giant monsters, and all manner of different weapons with this defense and a simple sword thrust shouldn’t cause it to buckle like this.
He attempted to use his Mana to strengthen it as much as he could, but using it already took an immense amount of concentration to maintain and stretched his Anima to its limits. There wasn’t much Mana to spare for repairs and reinforcing his defense at this point. He looked through the blinding light at the boy, who continued to press his attack. The young Magi gritted his teeth with more determination than he had seen in an adversary in some time.
If the blade pushed through, he wasn’t in any position to avert its strike quickly and it was pointed directly at his chest. It was somewhat disconcerting. If it could wreak havoc on his shield, he did not want to imagine what it would do to his insides.
Devol could feel the weapon digging with relentless slowness into Wulfsun’s barrier and was determined to persist with the pressure. Everything he had been taught about majestics rushed through his head. They responded to his desires and were an extension of himself. If that were true, it would not buckle before he did and he would not let that happen until he showed the commander everything he had.
Quickly, he moved his bottom hand over his top, pressed both against the top edge of the handguard, and finally bellowed another resolute challenge and pushed with everything he had left. The blade of the majestic dug in deeper and cracks appeared in the shield. His opponent began to back away a little and Devol took a large step back before he lunged forward and drove the blade through. The resistance shattered and he took another step and maintained his momentum with a forward thrust to pierce his opponent’s chest plate.
The giant clasped his meaty hands together and with a roar, pounded his gauntlets into the blade. His attack was powerful enough to force the weapon toward the ground and it dug into the dirt. The boy gasped in shock and stepped back to draw the blade out, but Wulfsun looked at him, his fists still clenched together, and swung them to catch him in the chest. The majestic was yanked out of the dirt and the young Magi was catapulted several feet. He almost flipped entirely before he plummeted to a hard landing. His weapon landed a few feet away from him.
Devol coughed a few times before he grimaced and tried to catch his breath. He wiped the dirt from his face as he retrieved his sword, planted the blade into the dirt, and held it by the grip to use it as a support to help him to clamber to his feet. When he managed to stand, he looked at the Templar, breathing deeply. The man’s ragged breaths were as labored as his were, although he stood firm with his arms folded again.
“So…” he began as he removed the blade from the dirt and held the weapon firmly in both hands, “did I pass?”
Wulfsun was silent for a moment before he looked down, his shoulders shaking. Devol could hear him stifle a chuckle before the man dropped the act and released a loud laugh that echoed throughout the arena. “You are certainly something, Devol!” he responded and laughed again. “That wasn’t exactly one of my strongest attacks, but it should have been more than enough to leave a kid like you on the ground for longer than that.”
The young Magi responded with a faint smile. “I can be stubborn, I guess,” he admitted and began to chuckle a little as well.
“Aye, but you are the best kind of stubborn,” the giant replied. He nodded and lowered his arms to reveal a large hole in the chest plate of his armor. With a grimace, he slid his hand under the plate and when he removed it, the fingers were stained with blood.
Thankfully, this seemed like a good time to end the bout. The damage to his majestic had left him drained and a little disoriented, but he’d had years in which to learn how to hide it from his foes and push past it. “I can say this with confidence—had this been a test to join the Templars, you would have a ceremony this very night.”
Devol nodded happily. “Thanks, Wulfsun,” he said before he stumbled and fell heavily. He dragged in a couple of large gasps of air as he smiled warmly, held his majestic firmly, and hoisted it high. “I’m glad I made it.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Well, that was certainly a grand finale,” Jazai said and beamed as he pushed off the railing and folded his arms. “Do you think we should get down there and congratulate him?”
“I would think so,” a deep and appealing voice replied. The two spectators turned to where Vaust stood behind them. “Battling Wulfsun and pushing him that far certainly deserves praise.”
“So you finally caught up?” the apprentice asked and nodded to the mori Templar. “I would have thought you would have had more interest in how this went, given that you brought him in from what I heard.”
“I was optimistic,” the new arrival responded, moved past them, and leaned on the railing. “Plus, I already had a taste of what he is capable of, so my opinion wasn’t that important.”
“You wanted everyone else to have a look?” Zier asked and studied him with interest.
A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1) Page 12
