Fight (2)
She had nearly gotten herself into real trouble. That was Kara's thought as she spat out the blood pooling in her mouth.
In front of her stood Sivar, the one who had just sent her flying, tall and proud.
A man who seemed so pure, yet somehow feral. But that blow from moments ago had been neither pure nor innocent. It carried the full ferocity of the wild.
If I hadn't used Hardening Technique, I would've blacked out.
Hardening Technique—the ability to channel mana and make the body rigid. She'd spotted it coming and reacted in the nick of time. If she'd taken it bare, she might've passed out. Even if not, a few teeth would've shattered for sure.
It was thanks to her battle-honed dynamic vision and reflexes.
And that wasn't even his full power.
Kara narrowed her eyes. A punch thrown just as she'd taught—using the rotation of hips and shoulders. That hadn't been his full strength either.
In other words, a barrage of attacks with that insane power was likely incoming.
Her own full-force punch was just a jab to him. Utterly absurd.
Fine, bring it on.
She'd expected a tough spar, but that only ignited her fighting spirit.
The Tatar people were forged by blood and environment into warriors. And Kara was their princess.
Princess or not, she hadn't been raised like some delicate flower in a greenhouse. On the contrary, she'd endured brutal real combat befitting her station.
Her father, Hector, hadn't approved, but that didn't matter now. This spar was what counted.
First, rile him up.
Luna had warned her before. Anything but touching Sivar's temper.
But to seize any advantage, she had to provoke him, make him lose his cool.
Sivar had grown up wild, but he'd barely fought humans. His style would be full of openings.
And those openings weren't just technical. They were emotional—the feelings that kept his reason intact.
I'll have to plan for a long fight.
She couldn't let it flow the way Sivar wanted. She had to drag it the opposite way.
Then he'd surely snap. And she'd strike in that gap.
Thud!
At that moment, Sivar yanked the curved sword from the ground and tossed it at Kara's feet.
Kara let out an incredulous laugh at his overly courteous gesture. Where had he learned manners like that?
"Thanks a... ton..."
Crack!
She had to duck mid-sentence. The moment she bent to grab the sword, Sivar shot forward like a bullet, fist flying.
Luckily, she'd dodged by a hair, so his punch slammed into the tree instead.
But the real problem came after.
His bare fist had punched straight through the trunk.
Insane!
Kara cursed inwardly and scrambled back. No counterattacking now—regrouping was priority.
Finally, as Sivar pulled his fist free from the tree, she finished readjusting her stance. He'd given her a moment, intentionally or not.
"..."
While she recovered, Sivar withdrew his fist and turned his back.
Now facing her again, he saw Kara gripping her sword, face tense with shock.
"Ka. ra."
"...What."
"Win. Ner."
"..."
Sivar provoked her once more. Instead of anger, Kara flashed a grin.
Truth be told, her odds of losing were high. Unavoidable fact.
Maybe four out of five times. That was the gap.
But that means I can win once, right?
Such situations cropped up often. Even the strong fell to the relatively weak.
A hard lesson from countless real fights: in life-or-death battles, improvisation ruled.
Of course, only when the gap wasn't too wide. Weight class differences were another story.
Close the weight class with skill.
Techniques to compensate for raw power. Kara had honed them relentlessly.
And now was the time to use them.
She'd thought she'd never need them at the academy.
But an unexpected variable had appeared. No one could've predicted this.
"Go. ing."
Meanwhile, Sivar charged with those short words. Same speed as before.
Now confirmed: he was unarmed. He'd come with axe and spear, but ditched them somewhere.
Fine by me.
Whoosh!
Sivar's fist rocketed toward her face, a simple punch slicing the air with a whistle. Pure power and speed.
Too straightforward. Kara tilted her head aside effortlessly.
Thwack!
She followed with the sword hilt smashing into his jaw. No body was immune; even the toughest shook from a chin shot.
Sivar should be no different, she thought.
Grab.
Until he clamped her arm—the one lodged in his jaw.
His chin should've rattled, but he looked fine. Unfazed.
But Kara wasn't one to panic. She swung her free left hand.
Thud!
Fist hardened with mana and muscle slammed his side. Effective—he staggered briefly.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
She hammered his ribs relentlessly, piling on damage while she had the opening.
Grip!
Of course, Sivar didn't just take it. His free right hand shot out—not blocking her fist, but seizing her throat and hoisting her up.
Normally, she'd be done. But Kara flowed like water into counter.
Whack!
She spun her body, unleashing a back roundhouse that nailed his face. Even Sivar had to release under repeated head shots.
"Hoo."
As Sivar brushed dirt from his face, Kara exhaled in relief.
His patterns were simple—too simple. Easier than Luna by far.
But get caught once properly, and it was over. She'd nearly blown it just now.
Dodge or deflect every time. Absurd, but best strategy.
Manage stamina too.
Mana boosted physicals or offered versatile uses. Common drawback: the more you used, the more stamina drained.
Stamina was national power for a reason. High mana meant nothing without it.
"..."
Sivar shook off the dirt and strode toward her. Then punched like before.
Kara couldn't just watch anymore; she backpedaled.
But not passively.
Clang!
As his fist extended fully, she slashed down with the sword. Odd sound—steel on flesh and bone, yet like metal on metal.
"Ngh..."
Kara grimaced. Her hand throbbed with strain. Force against force wasn't working; one wrong move, and her palm would tear.
Why's his hand fine?
Humans bled from paper cuts. Especially against a slashing curved sword.
Yet Sivar's hand was pristine. No blood, no wound.
What kind of body was this? Probably Hardening Technique. Nothing else explained it.
Who taught him that?
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Kara parried his incoming fists one by one, targeting his hands. Not a slugfest—cripple his punches.
Make him hesitate to throw.
Grip!
"What?"
But her tactic crumbled fast. Sivar feinted a punch and grabbed the blade barehanded.
Never grab a sword bare. Spar or not, mana-infused would've sliced him.
"...Hey."
"Hm?"
"You should let go."
So Kara warned sternly. Even for Sivar, this crossed a line.
Fighters avoided bare blades. Unless one had the Eastern "indestructible diamond body"—and even then, risky.
"If I channel mana, your hand gets cut. So let go."
"No. Pe."
"Let go, I said... Fine. Whatever."
Might as well take the hit. Rules didn't forbid it. Bracelets were issued to prevent worse.
Hummm—
Kara infused mana into the blade. A blue band shimmered along its surface.
For edged weapons, it boosted cutting; for blunt, destruction. Power scaled with mastery and mana volume—longer sustain with more.
Unlike body boosts, no stamina drain. Pure mana cost.
"Hup!"
She yanked downward. The blade slid free from his grip like butter.
A normal person would've screamed, skin and bone shredded.
At least winced.
Not Sivar. He stared at his palm with his usual blank face.
"Hm."
Nodding as if enlightened. Then he eyed her sword, now wreathed in blue—the cutting enhancer.
"No more punches..."
Whoosh!
Before she finished, his fist flew. She dodged with a scowl.
"Cut it... out!"
She slashed upward at his exposed torso.
"Already!"
Mana-charged blade rose; Sivar backstepped two paces. Then punched again—using shoulder and hip power, just as taught.
Kara dodged each assault, scowling. No counters. She could, his moves were rote and holey.
But mana blade meant no reckless swings. One slip, serious injury.
Even our people don't use mana in spars!
Tatars fought spars like real battles—but mana-free, pure skill, brutal but controlled. Taunts included.
"You're gonna get seriously hurt like this?"
"Know."
"Then why...!"
Grip!
As Kara gaped in disbelief, Sivar pulled his stunt again.
Grabbed the mana-charged blade barehanded—mid-diagonal slash.
While she reeled, he smashed his massive fist into the sword's center.
Crack!
A deafening snap echoed as the blade shattered clean in half.
Mana boosted not just cutting, but durability too. Why elite weapons endured.
Yet Sivar snapped a mana-forged steel sword—with bare hands.
Like crunching Elvin's blade with his teeth before. Now Kara's weapon broken.
"Crazy!"
Kara flinched but reacted fast—dropped the shards, leaped back, drew her back-slung spear.
Sivar charged without pause, no regroup mercy. Intimidating pressure alone.
Thrust!
She stabbed at the onrushing Sivar, mana-charged to avoid repeats.
But as the tip neared, he tilted his face aside casually.
Before she recovered, he seized the shaft with both hands.
Whoosh!
Spun full circle and slammed it groundward. Kara would've followed—
She released just before impact, rebound flinging her far back.
Tap.
She twisted midair, landing gracefully. Smooth move, stormy face—shock at his hardware, bafflement at his antics.
No blood at all? What the hell?
How tough was his body to shrug off a mana blade? Monsters had hard hides, but he was human.
Red eyes from Berserk aside, he looked the part.
Snap!
Meanwhile, Sivar snapped her spear like a twig.
Curved sword and spear—both gone. Bare hands now.
His weapons somewhere in the woods, hard to find.
"Ka. ra."
"...What."
"Hel. pless?"
"..."
Two syllables, but intent clear. Weapons broken—what now?
Kara huffed a laugh at the jab. Strangely, no anger. Just awe.
No lessons needed; he scraped nerves masterfully.
"...Haha. Cute little shit. You've got bright prospects, huh?"
She shook her head.
She got what he wanted. Not sparring.
Not trading techniques playfully.
A fight. Real one—all out, winner decided.
"...Got it."
Kara grinned brightly, nodding. Refreshing.
When had she last felt this? Rarely since the academy.
"I'll give you what you want. But one condition."
"Con. di. tion?"
"Yeah."
She clenched her fist, raising it slowly. Blue mana flickered.
"Don't die."
To others, brimming confidence.
"And don't kill me."
Reality: begging mercy, gap felt.
Sivar pondered, then smiled—vastly different from blank.
Kara thought it suited him perfectly—then his short reply.
"Will. Watch."
"Oh dear, scary."
Kara beamed, white teeth flashing against bronze skin.
No fear. Her aggressive, hearty nature shone.
Thus, the stage set—not for spar, but true fight.
Crackle!
Blue lightning danced along Kara's fist.