Mock Battle

The tide seemed to favor Marcus. Both men could feel the momentum shift, and Marcus, emboldened by his success, pressed his attack.

Their blades met in a furious flurry, neither gaining a clear advantage. But even with Marcus' earlier success, the battle was neck and neck. Only when the battle raged on did the signs start to show that Gresvin was slowly gaining the advantage. 

The battle had raged for a while, and Marcus's stamina seemed to take a hit; it was then that Gresvin subtly shifted his defense, forcing Marcus to overextend himself. Marcus' stamina was nigh-depleted when he lunged forward in one last-ditch effort while gasping for breath.

With that one movement, victory was all too close; Marcus had left himself wide open.

Gresvin seized his opportunity. He met Marcus' blade head-on, knocking it aside with a powerful blow. The wooden sword sent spinning through the air, landing with a dull thud on the ground. Marcus, disarmed, stood panting, his chest heaving.

A strained smile broke across Gresvin's face. He lowered his own sword.

"Not bad, Marcus," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "Not too bad for our first session. I quite enjoyed it."

Marcus nodded, readily agreeing with Gresvin. Although out of breath, both men smiled in contentment. Marcus accepted his defeat with a mix of disappointment and pride. They had both pushed each other to their limit, but despite the outcome, both men had gained something in return.

Gresvin, especially, had a big smile on his face. He was unaware of what Marcus was doing since his whole attention was attracted to a translucent screen in front of him. Two new messages had appeared, and both were something worth celebrating.

{News and Notifications: Gresvin had learned level 8 swordsmanship}

The message was short, but it carried a significant meaning to Gresvin as he was now almost 100% certain that his theory of the system was correct. This short message was of enormous importance to him and his future.

The second message was the cherry on top.

{Imperial Recruit - Marcus has learned level 6 swordsmanship}

Gresvin's thoughts were interrupted when he heard Marcus call out to him. Gresvin snapped out of his thoughts, and his attention returned to the training ground, where he could see Marcus slumped against a rough wooden training dummy, panting like a winded stag. 

"Good fight, Marcus," Gresvin called out again with a nod of approval. Marcus grunted in response, wiping a forearm across his brow. "Good fight?" He spat, the words laced with disbelief. "I felt like a lumbering oaf swinging a club out there."

Gresvin approached, offering a hand to help him up. Marcus accepted with a groan, the effort sending a fresh wave of soreness through his muscles. "Don't be so hard on yourself," Gresvin said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We put up one hell of a fight and that's what matters."

Marcus scoffed. "Hell of a fight? It's more like you swatted my attacks away like flies!" Shame burned in his chest. Their battle might seem even due to Marcus having a certain advantage in strength compared to Gresvin, but ultimately, Gresvin's swordsmanship was better than Marcus'. 

Marcus did not lose to Gresvin in a battle of strength or speed; instead, he lost to Gresvin because he had better control and his sword skill was a level or two higher than his.

"It's not about brute force, Marcus," Gresvin said gently, his usual confident swagger softened by a touch of empathy. "A skilled swordsman can overcome strength with precision and timing."

Marcus stared at Gresvin, the words hanging heavy in the air. He knew he was right. Every time he attacked recklessly, leaving himself open, Gresvin took advantage of that and obtained victory, which was one of the factors of his success.

He ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, the frustration evident in his furrowed brow. "I know, I know," he muttered, more to himself than Gresvin. "But sometimes it feels like I'm just… swinging a stick out there."

Gresvin chuckled a low rumble that belied the seriousness etched on his face. He gestured towards the shade of a nearby pine, the canopy of trees giving a respite from the relentless sun. "Come, let's sit for a moment."

They settled at the base of the pine tree, where the only sounds were the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the voices of birds.

"It's about more than just swinging a blade, Marcus," Gresvin began, his voice taking on a patient tone. "I may not know much and my skills are not that much better, but my Uncle once told me this: 'Think about it this way. Your sword is an extension of yourself, a tool to be wielded with control. Watch your opponent, anticipate their moves. Every attack leaves them open for a counter'."

Marcus replayed the fight in his mind, picturing the moments his attacks were easily deflected. He saw Gresvin's blade flash.

A wave of self-consciousness washed over Marcus. He winced, picturing himself as a lumbering brute, his attacks easily read by Gresvin. "So how do I improve it, how can I train to have more control?" he asked, a flicker of desperation in his voice.

Gresvin leaned back, chewing on his lower lip in thought. "I do not know," Gresvin finally said with a shrug, his voice firm. My Uncle did not teach me how to improve on it, and I had to tread that path on my own. Well, he did, of course, give me some advice. He said that he can't give me what I need as that is something I need to discover on my own."

"You have to search and find your way for me? It was actually quite simple. Basic training, swinging my blade over and over with precise control on where I would hit, how, and when. That is how I found my way," he glanced at Marcus. I don't know if it would be helpful, but that was how I learned some control."

Marcus digested this, a hesitant hope stirring within him. It wasn't a magic solution, but it was something, a path he hadn't considered before. "Alright," he said, a glimmer of determination replacing the earlier frustration. 

Gresvin nodded, a genuine smile splitting his face. "Good, very good!"