A Battle Beyond Sight – Gramps vs. Vaelor
The air between them was heavy. Not with anger, nor with desperation—just understanding.
A moment stretched in the dimly lit bar, where once, long ago, they had shared drinks without the weight of war pressing against their backs. Now, their conversation had ended.
It was time.
Gramps slowly exhaled, his fingers flexing. House Vaelor's sharp eyes locked onto him, unblinking.
Then—
Their fists collided.
The impact wasn't just felt—it was heard. A deep, earth-shaking boom cracked the very foundation of the bar. The walls splintered, bottles shattered, the wooden beams above groaning under the sheer force of their clash. A normal man wouldn't have even seen them move.
The bartender had vanished. The bar was already abandoned.
Both men knew the damage their battle would bring if they stayed.
Gramps clicked his tongue. He hated teleporting.
But there was no choice.
His fingers tightened around Vaelor's shoulder.
"Celestial Step!"
The world around them warped.
---
An Undisturbed Battlefield
The instant Celestial Step activated, the world around them twisted—colors bleeding into a blur of light and motion. The broken bar, the scent of sake, the lingering warmth of old conversations—it all vanished in the blink of an eye.
When the world reformed, they were no longer confined by walls, no longer surrounded by fragile structures that couldn't withstand the battle to come.
Instead, they stood in the heart of an untouched plain.
The golden grass stretched endlessly in all directions, swaying gently beneath a sky painted in hues of deep blue and amber. The horizon was vast and open, with no mountains or forests to break the endless expanse. The wind howled softly, a whispering presence between the two warriors, carrying with it the scent of the wild—pure, untainted.
The perfect battlefield.
Gramps exhaled slowly, feeling the subtle pressure of displacement in his bones. Teleportation was never his style. He much preferred to walk—to feel the weight of the journey, to let his own two feet dictate the distance.
But Celestial Step had been necessary.
It wasn't a technique he could abuse. The range was limited, and unlike traditional teleportation, it didn't bend space freely. The world itself resisted being rewritten so easily. Gramps could only use it within a specific distance, and more importantly—there was a cooldown. He couldn't spam it like some cheap trick.
A minute needed to pass before he could teleport again. And in battle, a minute was an eternity.
Still, it was better than letting an entire village crumble around them.
House Vaelor stood a few meters away, rolling his shoulders with a slow, measured breath. His coat flared slightly in the breeze, the deep fabric stained with faint hints of dust from their previous encounter.
"You still hate using that, huh?" Vaelor mused, stretching his arms behind his back.
Gramps cracked his neck, adjusting his stance. "I prefer walking."
Vaelor smirked. "And yet, here we are."
Gramps scoffed. "You think I'd waste my damn time running after your ass?"
"Wouldn't be the first time," Vaelor shot back. His eyes gleamed—sharp, observant. He was always analyzing, even now.
For a moment, there was no tension.
No weapons drawn.
Just two warriors, standing at the edge of something inevitable.
The wind passed between them, rustling the grass. Somewhere in the distance, birds took flight, sensing the storm that was about to erupt.
Gramps exhaled. "I take it your dogs aren't here today?"
Vaelor chuckled, glancing around at the empty plains. "You know me, old man. I prefer handling things myself."
"Good," Gramps muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Last thing I need is distractions."
A brief pause.
Then Vaelor's smirk faded slightly.
"...You really didn't bring it?"
Gramps raised a brow. "Bring what?"
"Don't play dumb," Vaelor scoffed. "Your sword. Why the hell haven't you drawn it yet?"
Gramps tilted his head. "You want me to use it that badly?"
Vaelor's jaw tightened. "I'm not a fool. I know you've been holding back. You always do."
Gramps chuckled. "And yet, here you are, asking me to cheat."
Vaelor's eyes narrowed. "That's not what this is about. I don't like being underestimated, Sensei."
Gramps remained silent.
Vaelor exhaled. "I trained under you, old man. I know your strength better than anyone. And I know that if you really wanted to end this—" His fingers curled slightly. "—you'd use everything you had."
Gramps studied him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he lifted his hand—and clenched it into a fist.
"I will."
Vaelor's eyes sharpened.
"But not yet."
Then—
They vanished.
---
The First Clash – A Fight Beyond Human Limits
Their bodies moved in perfect unison, fists meeting mid-air with a force that shattered the earth beneath them.
The shockwave that erupted from their clash flattened the surrounding grass, sending a pulse through the air so strong that even the clouds above seemed to ripple.
Then—they disappeared.
To the untrained eye, the battlefield looked empty.
But in reality, they were moving at blinding speeds, exchanging hundreds of blows in mere seconds. Their strikes blurred into streaks of motion, their bodies shifting through impossible angles as they clashed over and over again.
Fists met forearms. Knees collided with ribs. Footsteps carved trenches into the ground as they dodged, countered, and struck again.
And yet—neither of them fell.
Every attack was perfectly read. Every movement anticipated.
Gramps already knew how Vaelor fought.
And Vaelor knew exactly how Gramps thought.
This wasn't just a battle of strength.
This was a war of experience.
---
Vaelor's Mind Reading
Vaelor's smirk widened as he dodged another strike. "You know, Sensei… you're predictable."
Gramps grunted, feinting left before twisting his fist at the last moment—but Vaelor was already moving before the strike even came.
He didn't just predict Gramps.
He read him.
Gramps' eyes narrowed.
"So… you finally mastered it."
Vaelor chuckled. "You always told me that the deadliest warrior wasn't the strongest…" His fingers moved slightly, adjusting his balance before Gramps even took his next step.
"But the one who always knows what's coming."
Gramps exhaled. "Your Mind's Fang is finally complete, huh?"
Vaelor's smile was sharp. "Complete enough to read you, old man."
Gramps scoffed. "You're cocky for someone who's never beaten me."
Vaelor's expression didn't change, but the pressure in the air did.
"That's because you never fought me at full power."
Silence.
Then—Gramps grinned.
"Fair point."
The ground beneath them shattered.
---
Named Attacks – The First Exchange
Gramps twisted mid-air, shifting into a stance older than time itself.
His voice roared across the battlefield.
"RENSHŌ—DRAGON SHARK!"
The air around him collapsed inward, forming a spiraling force—an unstoppable current of raw destruction. His palm shot forward, a titanic force compressed into a single strike, the sheer pressure of it warping the space between them.
Vaelor's eyes gleamed.
"Mind's Fang."
His counter was instant—a single, pinpointed strike. Unlike Gramps' overwhelming power, Vaelor's attack was surgical.
He read Gramps' movement before it was even completed, shifting his body a fraction of a second early—just enough to redirect the attack.
BOOOOOOM!
The collision ignited the plains.
A massive crater tore open beneath them, splitting the ground apart. The sky above flashed white, the very atmosphere trembling under the force of their clash.
Gramps skidded backward, planting his foot into the earth to stop himself.
Vaelor stood firm, rolling his shoulders.
"Still playing mind games, huh?" Gramps muttered.
Vaelor smirked. "Still predictable, huh?"
They stepped forward.
The real fight was just beginning.
---
Meanwhile – Layron's Trial Continues
Layron's breath was steady, but his heart was racing.
He was behind the massive stone slab, hidden for now. His body ached, every muscle screaming for rest. But he didn't have time for exhaustion.
Not now.
His mind was running calculations.
He had vanished before—but that was just an adrenaline boost. It wasn't speed. It wasn't a real technique.
And now, he was on his last legs.
Shion's Bowsungun was relentless. The arrows still rained down, controlled with inhuman precision. Layron had dodged more than anyone should have been able to.
But that wasn't enough.
He had to win.
His fingers tightened into a fist.
Shion didn't know it yet.
But Layron had already figured out his plan.
It was reckless. It was insane.
And it was the only way to end this match.
---
To be continued...