PROGRESSION II

{DERYL'S POV}

A loud sword clang resonated through the training field, reverberating in the morning air. There I stood, my blade locked with Jay's, the clashing of our swords echoing like a declaration of our unwavering determination. It was this clash between us that saved Siena from what could have been a potentially fatal strike. Jay's current state was far from normal; the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't help but wonder if I was feeling fear from a seven-year-old, a feeling that was both surprising and unsettling.

As Jay disappeared suddenly, I found myself on high alert, my senses heightened. My eyes scanned the surroundings rapidly as I positioned myself protectively in front of Siena. Jay reappeared just as swiftly, his sword swinging with a ferocity that was both impressive and intimidating. I met his strike with my own, sparks erupting from the impact as steel clashed against steel.

We exchanged blows at an astonishing pace, our swords clanging with remarkable speed and precision. Our figures seemed to flicker in and out of existence as we dodged and parried each other's strikes. Despite our multiple sparring sessions, this was the first time Jay had reached such heights in his abilities. Reluctantly, I had to admit that he was proving to be a formidable opponent, making it increasingly challenging for me to keep up. My mana, the magical energy that fueled my abilities, was slowly depleting, and I began to doubt how much longer I could maintain this pace.

At one point, I faltered in my movements, a momentary lapse of concentration, and Jay seized the opportunity, moving in for an attack. However, his strike was intercepted by another sword, and I looked up to see Michael, with his distinctive white hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing his characteristic grin.

"It's been a while since I fought my little man," Michael said, his voice filled with nostalgia and affection. His grin widened as he spoke.

"You ready, Deryl? Just like the old days..." he added, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"You know I am," I replied, mirroring his smile as a rush of memories from our shared training days flooded my mind.

Jay raised his sword into the air, and it began to radiate a vivid purple hue. He performed a series of intricate hand signs, each movement deliberate and precise. His sword split into two separate pieces, and each fragment became infused with mana, glowing ominously. In the blink of an eye, Jay vanished and then reappeared in front of us, swinging both his swords with incredible force and agility. Desperately, Deryl and I attempted to block the attack with our own swords, but the sheer force of his strike sent us tumbling backward, our weapons shattering into pieces upon impact with the ground.

Defenseless and disarmed, we gasped for breath, our bodies still tingling from the remnants of the powerful strike. Beads of sweat trickled down our faces, mixing with dirt and determination.

"Jeez, Deryl, what did you feed him?" Michael quipped, breaking the brief silence that had settled over us.

"Now isn't the time for jokes, Michael. You saw his eyes, didn't you?" I replied, my voice filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Yeah... and?" Michael said, still looking remarkably nonchalant, as if we were discussing the weather.

"I knew it; you never paid attention in magic school. Those are the Ethereal Gaze," I explained, my words carrying a sense of urgency.

"Oh, thought it was some eye infection..." Michael responded casually, his tone betraying his complete lack of surprise at the revelation.

I wasn't surprised by his indifference. Michael had always possessed a unique combination of brilliance and nonchalance, a dichotomy that allowed him to excel in his pursuits, whether in alchemy or in jest.

As Jay continued to close in on us with breathtaking speed, it became evident that we were running out of options. Michael, ever resourceful, swiftly hardened his arm, a swirling aura of white-blue mana enveloping his right limb. With a tremendous impact that seemed to reverberate through the very earth beneath us, he delivered a powerful strike that managed to divert Jay's attention.

Just as Jay began to descend from his mid-air assault, Siena appeared behind him, wielding the hilt of a sword like a makeshift club. With a swift and accurate strike, she knocked Jay unconscious, her expression a mix of determination and relief.

The training field fell silent once more, the dust slowly settling around us as we caught our breath. The morning sun bathed us in its gentle warmth, a stark contrast to the intensity of our battle just moments ago.

{JAY'S POV}

I slowly opened my eyes, the world around me coming into focus. The room was bathed in a soft, ambient light, and I couldn't help but wonder how long I had been unconscious. As my vision adjusted to the surroundings, I realized I was lying on my bed, my body aching with residual fatigue.

"How long was I out?" I mumbled to myself, my voice sounding hoarse and weak.

"You're finally awake," a familiar voice said, and I immediately recognized it as Clara's. Her tone was a mix of amusement and annoyance.

"Clara," I muttered, my surprise at hearing her voice competing with a hint of annoyance. It wasn't every day that I found myself sharing my thoughts with an ancient being.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, my groggy mind struggling to piece together the events that had led to my current state.

Clara's response was far from what I expected, and her words cut through the haze of confusion that clouded my thoughts. "You wake up, and the first thing you ask is what's wrong with me?" she retorted, her voice holding a trace of sarcasm.

I blinked, trying to process her words. "You took over my body... without my permission," I shot back, my annoyance becoming more pronounced as I pieced together what had happened.

"Correction, I do have permission. We agreed on that," Clara replied confidently, her tone unapologetic.

"No, you said during dire situations, not just any situation," I countered, my frustration growing with each passing moment.

Clara didn't seem bothered by my protest. "Of course, it was because your little human legs couldn't keep up with that basilisk girl. She would have killed you if I hadn't intervened," she explained matter-of-factly, her words laced with a hint of superiority.

I gritted my teeth, my frustration reaching its peak. "No, she wouldn't have. I had everything thought out," I argued, my voice tinged with exasperation.

"Was standing there thoughtless part of your plan?" Clara quipped, her words like a dagger aimed at my pride.

I clenched my fists, my patience wearing thin. "I don't need your help!" I declared firmly, my voice filled with a mix of defiance and anger.

Clara's response, however, was more cutting than I could have anticipated. "Typical humans, always thinking they can do everything on their own. Weak, ignorant creatures who rely on external forces."

Her words hit me like a physical blow, and for a brief moment, I felt a surge of anger welling up inside me. I struggled to find my voice, to respond to her accusations, but Clara's words seemed to hang in the air like an unassailable truth.

As I tried to regain my composure, I took a deep breath, attempting to quell the storm of emotions that raged within me. I couldn't let Clara's words undermine my belief in humanity's potential. I had always believed in the resilience and strength of the human race, and I felt compelled to defend it.

"Clara, you're wrong," I began, my voice carrying a note of determination. "Humans are more than you think. We develop ourselves through wits, instincts, and experiences. We face challenges head-on, learn from our mistakes, adapt, and become better. We're not just survivors; we're creators. We don't have everything handed to us on a silver platter, and that's what makes us strong."

As I spoke, I could feel the weight of my own convictions, a belief in the potential of humanity that had been shaped by my own experiences. I wanted to convey this to Clara, to make her understand that her assessment of the human race was flawed.

The anger that had built up inside me erupted, and without thinking, I lashed out, striking the mirror in front of me with a powerful punch. The glass shattered into a thousand glimmering fragments, each shard a reflection of the turmoil within me.

Clara's voice, now tinged with remorse, tried to break through my anger. "Okay, Jay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that."

But I wasn't ready to hear her apology. The shards of the broken mirror lay scattered on the floor like my own fractured emotions. I turned away from the mess, choosing to ignore her words for now. My frustration still lingered, and I needed time to process what had just happened.

/// NEXT CHAPTER: HYDRO ///

Edited by: JJ