The sun hung high in the sky, its golden light casting elongated shadows across the training grounds. Dust from previous battles still lingered in the air, remnants of the clashes that had unfolded throughout the day.
Dawn exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he stepped forward. His body ached from the previous fights, but his mind burned with an unshaken determination. His recent victories had proven his growth, yet deep inside, he knew there was still a vast gap between himself and the true elites of the academy.
And standing at the pinnacle of those elites—was Gary Amberson.
Across the sparring field, Gary stood with a relaxed yet commanding presence. His posture was effortless, yet his very stance exuded the confidence of a seasoned warrior. He held his longsword at his side, its polished surface reflecting the celestial glow above.
Dawn pointed his rapier at him. "Gary, How about a fight?"
Gary raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a slow nod, he stepped forward. "You're serious?"
Dawn's grip tightened. "I need to see where I stand."
A chuckle. Not mocking, but understanding. "Alright," Gary said, lifting his blade. "But don't expect to win."
The duel was set.
---
The moment the match was called, Dawn exploded forward. His rapier thrummed with high-frequency vibrations, a shimmering blur as he lunged at Gary with practiced precision.
Fast. Precise. Unrelenting.
His blade struck—only to meet empty air.
Gary sidestepped with the grace of a dancer, his footwork effortless, as if he already knew where Dawn would strike.
Dawn barely had time to react before Gary counterattacked.
A simple step forward. A smooth downward swing.
Dawn threw up his rapier to block—and nearly lost his grip.
The impact was monstrous. A shockwave traveled down his arm, numbing his fingers. Gary's raw strength was on an entirely different level. Not to mention that he, too, could employ Vibrations. More than what Dawn could, in fact.
Dawn staggered back, breath catching in his throat.
Gary didn't follow up. Instead, he watched, as if gauging Dawn's reaction.
"Too slow," Gary remarked, adjusting his grip. "Your attacks are good, but your movements—"
He was gone.
No, not gone—too fast.
Dawn barely caught the blur of motion before Gary was already behind him.
A cold sensation brushed his neck.
Gary's blade hovered just an inch away from slicing through.
Dawn froze.
The match could have ended right there.
But instead of declaring victory, Gary withdrew his sword and turned to face him again.
"Your movements are predictable," he said, his tone patient. "You telegraph your attacks too much."
Dawn swallowed, shaking off the lingering shock. "Again," he said, tightening his stance.
Gary smiled. "Good. Try again."
---
Dawn attacked once more, this time with caution.
He utilized [Silver Tide], letting his body move more fluidly, his strikes less rigid, more adaptable. His rapier flickered, probing for openings instead of committing to a reckless lunge.
Gary still dodged with ease.
"You rely too much on your body's flow," Gary commented mid-dodge. "Your footwork is still inefficient."
Then, in an instant, Gary moved.
He stepped forward—not fast, not flashy, but precisely where Dawn didn't expect.
A sharp shoulder check sent Dawn stumbling backward.
"Your center of gravity is too high," Gary explained as he stepped back. "That's why you're so easy to push off balance."
Dawn gritted his teeth. He understood the problem—but understanding wasn't enough.
He adjusted, lowering his stance. He focused on his steps, keeping his balance steady, his feet positioned for quick shifts.
Gary nodded approvingly. "Better."
Dawn exhaled and attacked again. And again. Every time he was repelled, not just through sheer strength, but also by skills.
---
Dawn switched his grip, his weapon morphing into its whip form. The coiled blade lashed out, seeking to control space, to prevent Gary from dodging so effortlessly.
It was a sound strategy—but not against Gary.
With one fluid motion, Gary parried the whip mid-air and surged forward, closing the gap before Dawn could react.
Dawn's instincts screamed. He backstepped, leaving afterimages
[Echoed Steps]
His afterimage remained in place, baiting Gary into striking.
But Gary saw through it instantly. His sword did not swing at the illusion—it cut through where Dawn was actually moving.
Dawn barely deflected the blow, his arms shaking from the force.
"You're using too many abilities at once, so many that it is making me jealous" Gary said casually, disengaging. "But they're making you hesitate rather than enhancing your combat ability. What a waste!"
Dawn panted, sweat trickling down his forehead. He had never felt this outmatched before.
And yet…
He was learning.
---
Dawn steadied himself. He analyzed Gary's movements, his counters, his footwork. What made him so untouchable?
He watched. He studied. He planned.
And then—he attacked differently.
Instead of lunging forward like before, he circled. He didn't overcommit. He feinted, pulled back, tested reactions.
Gary smiled. "Now you're thinking."
Their blades clashed. This time, Dawn lasted longer.
Not by strength, not by overwhelming speed—but by adjustment.
He anticipated Gary's counters, minimizing damage. He positioned himself better, lowering his stance, keeping his balance centered.
But still—
Gary was stronger.
A single well-placed strike disarmed Dawn. His rapier flew from his grip, embedding itself into the dirt.
Dawn stood still, his chest rising and falling. He had lost.
Again.
Gary lowered his sword. "That was much better."
Dawn wiped the sweat from his brow. "Still not good enough."
"Not yet," Gary corrected. "But now, you're improving faster. That's the difference between training and battle. You don't just fight—you adapt."
Dawn met his gaze.
And then, he nodded.
He understood.
---
The match was over. But Dawn had gained something more valuable than victory.
He had experienced the vast gap between him and Gary, but also learned how to bridge that gap.
His footwork had improved.
His strikes were sharper.
His adaptability had grown.
And he would only continue to refine them.
As the two of them walked off the field, Gary glanced at him. "Whenever you want to duel again, just ask."
Dawn smirked, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"I will."
Because the next time—they wouldn't be so far apart.
And one day, he would stand on equal ground.