Aemon's fire attack had released without any incantations? Shit this is bad, move Xerxes. MOVE!
Xerxes immediately barrel-rolled to the left, just as the fine leather mat of the table ignited in flames.
"Are you trying to kill me or something, Aemon? Even if we're training, what the hell was that?!" Xerxes snarled, eyes widening at the sheer potency of the attack.
Aemon regarded him with the same expressionless gaze. "That was power, Xerxes. Something you haven't achieved yet."
Xerxes saw Aemon bracing himself, preparing to launch another attack.
Xerxes' instinctively reached for his sword, and when not feeling anything, he looked down. He didn't have his sword, he had left it in the medical room. Despite that, he could still be tactful. If Aemon was out for blood, so was he.
His eyes darted to the neatly aligned cutlery on the table. Without hesitation, he sprinted alongside it, grabbing an assortment of knives and forks.
He flung a few towards Aemon, disrupting his formation of mana. Perfect, he thought. Closing the distance as swiftly as possible, he chanted an incantation, releasing it point-blank. But for Aemon, this was all too easy.
With a single stomp of his foot, a surge of fire mana erupted from beneath him, travelling upwards like lava spewing from a volcano. The flames swallowed Xerxes whole. He clenched his fists, bracing himself as he was sent hurtling towards the ceiling.
A sledgehammer of force slammed into his ribs. The impact was brutal. Xerxes crashed straight through the ceiling.
There was no time to catch his breath. A trail of blue mana lingered in the air—Aemon was already where he wanted Xerxes to be.
Mana siphoned from his body at an alarming rate. He couldn't dodge. He was mid-air, after all. But he refused to go down so easily. He wasn't ready to lose to Aemon.
Aemon mimicked his previous attack. If Xerxes couldn't dodge through ordinary means, then he wouldn't be ordinary.
Funnelling mana into his palm, he propelled himself above the pathway of the attack. He had evaded it—but he wasn't out of danger yet.
Aemon anticipated his every move. Xerxes had to act fast.
His fingers tightened around something in his pocket. One of the knives from the table.
Channelling the power of the soul shards he had absorbed from the goblins, Xerxes tensed his forearms, his teeth grinding together.
With a sharp exhale, he swung the knife, using it as a makeshift dagger. Green trails of energy flared from his arm. He poured every ounce of strength into the strike - but even with all of his strength. It meant nothing.
Aemon caught the dagger effortlessly between his index and middle fingers.
"You thought cheap tricks like this could amount to anything?" Aemon's voice was ice. "Let me educate you, Xerxes. And don't look at the knife. Look at me."
The blade shattered in Aemon's grasp. Before Xerxes could react, Aemon's hand clamped around his throat.
"When you're out of options," he murmured, his grip tightening, "when your opponent is about to carry out your execution—what do you do?"
Xerxes clawed at Aemon's hands, his body thrashing in resistance. It was futile. Aemon's strength was absolute.
Aemon frowned, watching his struggle with something akin to pity.
"No, Xerxes. You don't squirm like a dog. You uphold your pride. You fight, until you reach greater heights in battle and if you can't do that now—then you never will."
An explosion of magic emitted from Aemons' heels as he propelled to a less populated area of the city, Xerxes' being held like a doll that had no mind or no free will.
Aemon reared back his arm and when approaching the floor he pushed forward throwing Xerxes, as he hurled across the floor.
Lying there, winded, Xerxes cursed himself for his weakness. What the hell is happening, I can't even make out his moves. He's fast, he's smart and his mana is out of the roof. I'm already out of mana just from trying to protect my body. Shit.
Aemon's voice rang out, powerful and commanding.
"What's wrong, Xerxes? You call this a fight? Is this how you were when you faced the monster? If this is the best you can display, then it's no wonder your outcome was already decided."
Anger began swelling in Xerxes, rational and logic began becoming an after thought. Was he angry because it was true, or was it because he wanted to prove him wrong, "Shut up, SHUT UP, I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT I CAN DO!".
A wildfire raged in Xerxes' veins, his breath turning sharp as his body burned hotter with each passing second. His mana— which he thought had all but ceased— swelled, climbing in violent surges as memories of the orc flooded his mind.
The orc had relentless fury, fighting even as its strength drained, even as its mana depleted—it always had the ability to claw back power, no matter the outcome.
It had taken everything for me to kill that orc, but that meant its strength was mine for the taking, wasn't it? What am I even saying? That can't be a question now. It wasn't a matter of whether I could - I will take it. I had to.
"I need this, Aemon. I need to get home, and if I have to hit you, an old man, to take me seriously, I'll be damned if I don't land one."
Aemon chuckled, unfazed. "Resorting to cheap remarks? Let's see how they play out in battle."
Wisps of mana flickered to life around Xerxes' frame, coiling like spectral chains as his muscles tightened, his presence growing heavier—stronger. He clenched his fists, planting his feet into the dirt, his body coiling like a predator ready to pounce. His fingers dug into the earth, his blood thrumming with anticipation.
Aemon exhaled, steady and composed, before raising a single palm before him—one hand behind his back, his stance calculated and confident.
Xerxes' eyes locked onto him, and with a leap, the real fight began. A thunderous boom erupted from the ground as Xerxes shot forward, his speed a blur, an arrow honed straight for Aemon.
Rearing back his fists, Xerxes threw a flurry of punches, which Aemon calmly parried but on his last strike, Xerxes had instilled fire into it.
This punch collided with Aemon's fist, but it was followed through with an explosion of fire magic, that dragged Aemon a few feet back, not enough to knock him down, but enough to change his expression.
Aemon thought about Xerxes' sudden surge of power and voiced his thoughts, "Now this is interesting Xerxes, I'm seeing your strength climb and climb, let us see where that will take you."
This time, Aemon didn't allow for Xerxes to take the first move. Aemon vanished like a flash.
Xerxes barely had time to register Aemon's fist that was about to make contact with his face, however by pure instinct, Xerxes ducked readying to propel himself upwards, but Aemon thrust forward a knee straight into Xerxes' face, blood splattering from his nose.
Xerxes landed on shaky feet, his vision swimming. He was barely clinging to consciousness. Knowing hand to hand combat couldn't be used, Xerxes began raising both hands.
He raised both hands, murmuring through ragged breaths.
"Sixth tier, open... by the grace of the flame and the beauty of its destruction… bless my body with the mana to obliterate my foe."
A large swirling mass of fire appeared before Xerxes' hands, expanding by the second. The heat was powerful enough to start burning the surrounding plants and trees. Aemon allowed Xerxes to build up as much strength as he could, admiring what the 6th tier mage could do.
"I can't lose.." Xerxes whispered, it seemed as if his mind had went elsewhere, thought it was a 'spar' with no real risk, Xerxes still wanted to do the best he could, to show how strong he could be.
With the last portion of his mana enveloping the fireball, Xerxes released as Aemon began walking forward straight towards the fire. The fire was getting closer and closer readying to engulf the old man, and the next thing Xerxes saw made him confident the fight was over.
Aemon with a casual flick of his hand had dispelled the concentrated ball of firepower and carried on walking towards Xerxes.
Any adrenaline or strength Xerxes had left had faded as he began falling forward not before Aemon could catch him.
Aemon's seriousness soon dissipated, as he began complimenting Xerxes, "You did amazing Xerxes, your strength reminded me of someone my old master used to respect quite dearly. You awakened the first portion of your Orc soul shard, you actually entertained me so I'll give you that. Rest, boy, the training ahead will only become more difficult."
Xerxes had begun resting on the old man, whilst Aemon looked at his left hand, to see a small graze that drew little blood. "Ah, so you did make me draw blood even if it was a small amount, you show promise Xerxes."
Aemon muttered, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "You show promise."