The Author Reincarnated As An Extra-Chapter 38: • Friendly Spar

Deremiah shifted into a ready stance, his sword held steady in his grip as he watched Elora from across the clearing.

Her posture was relaxed but not careless, he saw the way she held her sword, so loosely at her side, like it weighed nothing at all. The vines had twisted around her grip, tightening her grasp on the hilt as the gleaming lights of the plants caught along its edge.

"You seem anxious?" she said, her voice carrying across the space between them, calm and firm. "Are you afraid of me, Deremiah?"

He looked at her and gulped. "I’m not," he lied.

"Good," she tilted her head momentarily. "My channels are already suppressing my Aether flow, there’s nothing to be worried about."

Deremiah didn’t say anything.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

He took a deep breath. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Elora’s lips almost curved to a smile, but it stopped shortly and she raised her blade. "Good. Then show me what you’ve learned."

He hesitated only a moment before charging forward, his boots crunching against the soft ground.

"Urrrkk! Nggh!" He pulled his blade from his right, swinging swiftly as he aimed for her left shoulder.

But almost like she measured the exact length of the sword and calculated the angle of his attack, Elora averted effortlessly by leaning backwards, then used her sword to parry the attack, sending his blade harmlessly aside.

"That was a very predictable opening," she said, standing stoically. Then she attacked with a downward swipe.

Deremiah barely managed to raise his sword in time, but when he did, their blades clashed with a ringing sound. The impact rattled up his arms, and before he could recover, Elora shifted her weight forward and shoved him backward with raw strength.

He stumbled, almost losing his footing. When he looked at her direction, she was already standing, sword on her side.

He stared at her in disbelief. ’How strong is she? Even for a Mancer, she has a lot of upper body strength. To shove me like that with just her shoulder.’

Seeing that she was waiting for him, he stood straight and they began to size each other up, moving in a circle.

Deremiah narrowed his eyes and attacked once again. He channeled Void into his feet and closed the distance between them in a second. This time, he feinted to the right before swinging toward her midsection.

Elora’s blade suddenly appeared right where her exposed stomach was, and she blocked with ease. He was shocked at how swift her recovery time was, and when she twisted her sword, he swung at her from above, which she blocked, and then at the side, which she also blocked.

They remained in that particular lock for a moment, pushing against each other. But Deremiah could see the strength of her arms forcing him back step by step.

He stared into her eyes.

"You’re hesitating," she said, her voice calm despite the strain of the lock. "You can’t afford that. Skill is important in a fight. But so is confidence. Many opponents, many beasts... they can smell fear, and they prey on hesitation."

She shoved him once more with a push of her sword, breaking the lock and sending him staggering.

Deremiah stepped back to reassess, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he panted. She waited, her sword at the ready, her gaze steady and stern.

"Are you sure your Aether is suppressed?" he asked her, glancing up at her as he tried to catch his breath.

She raised an eyebrow. "To the best of my ability," she answered. "Advance."

He scanned her deeply this time, looking at the way she stood, how she slanted and her overall posture. That all told him what part of her body she favored, and what part of her body she would attack with.

Elora was right handed, though at that moment she had her sword on her left hand. Perhaps if he attacked on her weaker side, she wouldn’t have time to switch the sword to her right and twist her body to block. She would be forced to fight with her left.

Attempting the strategy, Deremiah lunged again, faster this time, pushing out wet sand with a brush of speed. He swung his blade from down below, but Elora managed to block with her weaker hand.

He grunted frustratingly. Then, he pulled back and attacked again with a series of quick, unpredictable strikes. To his frustration, she parried each one with minimal effort, still using her left hand to wield the thorned blade.

When she finally moved the blade to her right, she struck forward with an attack of her own. Deremiah slanted to his right, averting the blade as it stabbed the air above his shoulders.

He spun at the same time, taking his blade with him as he aimed for her midsection. But she blocked that too, and soon they started to dance around the clearing to the music of their blades clanging against each other.

As this progressed, Elora weaved lessons into the fight.

"When you strike, aim not where your opponent is but where they’re going to be," she said, sidestepping his swing and tapping his side with the flat of her blade.

"Watch your footwork," she added later, sweeping her leg behind his and almost tripping him as he overextended.

Deremiah regained his footing and scowled at her angrily. He attacked again.

She moved to the left when he struck right, and moved to the right when he struck left. Then when he came from above, her sword shielded her face from that attack as well.

She pushed him away but he only lowered his body and spun, aiming to take out her legs. Elora leaped over the attack as well, tapping Deremiah’s back with her blade as a way to show him that he had exposed his back in the process, and she could have struck him there if she wanted to.

That stung the One-Marked author.

When Elora landed on her feet, she saw the frustration in his eyes, but she remained silent. Despite the setbacks, she had to agree that Deremiah showed promise. Especially for a person of his Mark and experience.

His movements had grown more sharper, his strikes more calculated, and he’d even learnt how to formulate an attack mid-battle.

There were traces of the coming dawn starting to pierce the dark sky as they stood on the clearing, now once again on opposite sides to each other.

"Advance," Elora instructed him, standing and waiting.

Deremiah slowly rose, lifted his blade to a high point, the hilt gripped with both palms firmly near his shoulder, the steel extending beside his face with its deadly point aimed unwaveringly at her.

"A high guard pose," she said in a remarkable manner. "You do know something about the sword."

Deremiah didn’t say anything, he remained in the position, breathing easily, determined on breaking through to her this time.

"Advance," she repeated.

Deremiah remained silent and steeled. "No," he replied.

Elora’s face didn’t show any expression either. They just continued to gaze into each other’s eyes, time passing, the clouds brightening.

Then, with the blink of an eye, Elora threw her greatsword into the air, caught it and ran towards him. Deremiah tried to remain calm, seeing her coming at him with terrifying speed.

She began with a down-to-up curve of her sword, which he managed to drag his body back before blocking with his corrupted blade. Then she attacked with three faster arcs, causing him to block with forced accuracy as anything less could lead to him losing a body part.

He also saw that it was indeed true that she was suppressing her Aether, a skill that only powerful Mancers could do. This suppression was what allowed him to block most of her attacks, as he could now see it coming, and his strength augmented by Void somewhat matched her strength without Aether.

But she kept ramming down on him with a series of dazzling attacks. One of her strikes was way too quick for him and it sent his sword flying from his hands.

He shot his head at her with wide eyes, seeing that he was exposed, but he recovered quickly, using an agile roll to retrieve it.

He turned around in time to see her storming towards him with her sword aimed for a thrust attack. Deremiah curved his body as much as he could to his left, grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to him.

Because he had gotten full grip control of his sword, he used the hilt to hit her square in the face.

"Ngh!" Elora groaned, stepping back and pressing her palm on her forehead. Deremiah’s brows raised and he worried that he actually hurt her.

She petted her forehead for a while longer and then removed her hand. He saw a round redness that slowly faded away after, and then below that, he saw a small, surprising smile on her face.

Her entire facial features lit up with that smile, and Deremiah thought that he was in a trance for a moment there.

"Well done," she said, her gaze lingering on him. "You caught on to what I was trying to show you. You don’t always have to be the one to attack, and never let your opponent trick you into making the first move. Especially when you’re on the weaker side, which... would most likely always be the case."

Her smile had disappeared now. "Allowing your opponent to strike first provides invaluable insight into their strength and speed. It’s a form of reconnaissance."

"But..." she walked closer to him, then spun around and swept his feet off the floor. Deremiah, who had been staring dreamingly, fell hard on the soft earth.

She pointed her sword at his neck, eyes looking down at him. "You should also be diligent and self aware. The fight doesn’t end when your opponent says it does."

"And do not be afraid of hurting your opponent. Swords are meant to kill. Embrace that reality."

He lay down there, heart beating, gazing up at her. Even though he was registering all she was saying, his mind felt like it had splintered into a thousand pieces and he just couldn’t stop thinking of that smile.

"You’ve got potential," Elora added. "You might not have a long way as a Mancer, but as a swordsman, you could go far. Perhaps a WaveKnight in the future."

She offered him a hand, as sunlight was now fully taking over the forest, illuminating the tired but determined look on Deremiah’s face.

"Stand up," Elora said, after glancing at the horizon, where the sky was brightening. "The Dawn is here at last."

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