23 CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 23

I don't think Rodrik wants to spar just because he wants to beat me black and bloody. So, I don't think he is going to use any real power while fighting me. I think he is going to use power close to mine while fighting me. I pulled my sword out of its scabbard. I came close to him and threw my scabbard at him. He used his sword to deflect it at that moment; I closed the distance and attacked his pivot leg with a lunge. He looked surprised but just sidestepped. That a.hole, he used 4.2 spd just now. There is no way for me to catch him.

"Woah, that was dangerous. Who thought you to fight dishonorable."

"There is no such a thing as fighting dishonorably, and there is only dead or alive in a sword fight."

Now I know he is going to fight however he likes. He is not going to let me hit him. I have to fight him with everything I have, I wasn't going to show him this yet, but it looks like I have to. I took a deep breath and started a nonstop onslaught against him, but all I could see on his face was amusement. When he was getting comfortable with my speed and attack pattern, I pulled a small dagger, smaller than a palm, and threw it on his foot.

It hit, but it did next to nothing because it didn't have an edge. This is a training dagger like our swords. They don't have an edge, but it should hurt a little if it hits. But that one second of distraction was all I needed. I attacked his torso with a stab, but he defended it with a parry, but I was starting to get used to his rhythm and was starting to see the phantom. I decided to use one more of my trump cards and pulled something from my pocket. When I saw him move right away understood where he was going to strike, it was going to be a horizontal slash to the right side.

I threw what I had in hand to the ground, and it exploded in a cloud of thick white smoke and shielded me from his sight. Then I dived to the left side to get away from the slash and tried to slash his arm with a diagonal cut, but after I released my slash, I sensed something next to my throat, and it was his sword. When the smoke dissipated, I saw a small nick on his arm, but he got my neck.

POV RODRİK

This boy is a force of nature. Two years ago, he insisted on not training with other squires until he became one. In 2 years, he becomes strong enough to beat teenagers, but he still has a significant flaw in his fighting style. He trusts his sight and ability to read his opponent too much. He had never fought against a master swordsman before.

Yes, he fought against Lord and me several times, but those were child's plays. I have to give him a lesson about deep feints. He thinks if you see a muscle move or notice a change in stance means an attack, but it is not. Real masters can move while faking their movements. These movements are not like basic feints. For example, I can act like I'm stepping in with my left foot to the left side while, in reality, that foot can be my pivot foot.

All I need to do is bend my waist a bit to the left. This way, all my weight will fall on my left foot, and my center of gravity will shift. He does not know this kind of thing, but I can't believe I'm trying to teach something only seasoned and talented knights would understand or use to an eight or almost nine name-day old child.

If he had a grown man's body now, I think he would be the strongest fighter in the North. While I was in my thought, he came up to the arena and pulled his sword from its scabbard, and the next thing I knew, the scabbard was flying toward me. I deflected the thing and saw him lunging at my pivot leg. This little shit was going at me for real, and for a second, just for a second, I felt fear, so I got half-serious and sidestepped.

This freakish monster, how is an eight name-day old is this fast? As a joke, I said,

"Woah, that was dangerous. Who taught you to fight dishonorably."

"There is no such a thing as fighting dishonorably. There is only dead or alive in a sword fight."

This brat sometimes acts and talks like an old seasoned warrior. He is basically right. There is no honor in fighting; honor comes from whom or what you are fighting for.

Right after this, he starts coming at me with an unending flurry of attacks, but all of the attacks are aimed at fatal or disabling spots. They are not at random. Suddenly I realized in four years. I don't think I could beat him. A smile crept on my face without me realizing it.

When the fight started to get in a rhythm, he pulled something from his back and threw them at my foot, and I didn't have time to react to it. All of them fell on my pivot foot, it really hurt, but it wasn't something that did real damage. I thought about what would have happened if they were real daggers. I would be crippled now.

This thought caused the fear to start boiling inside me, but I got focused again and started using deep feints. At that moment, I saw a little smirk start on his face. Hmph, he thinks I'm going to use a horizontal slash to the right side, but it was the opposite of a horizontal slash to the left side.

When I was sure the fight was over, he pulled something else and, this time, threw it to the ground, and a big white smoke bloomed from the ground like a curtain of fog. I lost sight of him for a second, and fear creeped right back out of me, so I got serious without realizing again. His sword came at me from the fog, so I continued my strike while backstepping.

His sword nicked my arm, but it was over at that moment. All I could think about in 10 years was Creagan Stark, Dragonknight, Arthur Dayne, and Barristan Selmy. All those heroes are going to be remembered as second fiddle to this child.