Sham suspended above the ground, angled his body forward and drove his sword toward me in a sharp, direct thrust aimed straight at my chest. The movement was clean and efficient, his hovering position allowing him to extend his reach beyond what would have been possible from the ground. The tip of his blade cut through the air with lethal precision.
A familiar tightening flared at my forehead as I called upon my ability. The invisible thread between the black dot and the book pulled taut, and I shaped the energy outward in a compact form directly in front of me.
A small translucent shield materialized in the exact path of the incoming blade.
The barrier shimmered into existence just as the tip of his sword struck it, releasing a sharp flash of light at the point of contact.
The impact came hard and clean.
A sharp crack ran through the shield the instant his blade met it. The barrier held for only a fraction of a heartbeat before splintering apart, fragments of translucent light scattering and dissolving into the air.
The moment I felt it give way, I moved.
I stepped back quickly, shifting my weight and pulling my torso out of the direct line of the thrust. The tip of his sword cut through the space where my chest had been an instant earlier.
But Sham did not give me room to recover.
Before my stance could fully reset, his arm pivoted smoothly and his blade swept across in a horizontal slash aimed at my side. The motion flowed naturally from the previous strike, leaving no gap between attacks.
I raised another small curved shield, forming it just large enough to intercept the path of his blade. The barrier flashed into place at my flank.
Steel struck energy again.
The shield rippled violently under the force, its surface warping as though it were liquid rather than solid. A split second later, fractures spread across it and it shattered, dissolving into faint particles of light.
He pressed on without pause.
A vertical slash followed immediately, descending from above with deliberate, crushing precision. I felt the pressure building even before the blade reached me.
This time I shaped a rectangular shield directly in front of me, angling it to better absorb the downward force. The barrier formed just in time to catch the strike.
The impact landed squarely.
The barrier fractured and broke apart as though he had calculated the exact amount of force needed to destroy it.
It was not reckless aggression. It was controlled pressure.
Sham was testing me. With every strike, he was measuring the durability of my shields, adjusting the weight behind his blade, refining his attacks in real time. He was learning my limits as we fought.
He did not grant me even a single breath to recover.
The next strike followed immediately, flowing seamlessly from the last. His sword arced diagonally toward my shoulder, the motion swift and precise.
I reacted instantly, shaping a narrow vertical shield along my side to guard the exposed angle while shifting my footing backward at the same time. The barrier materialized just before the blade reached me.
Steel collided with energy.
The shield trembled violently, cracks spreading across its surface before it shattered like the others. The force pushed against my arm even as the barrier dissolved, reminding me that I could not rely on defense alone.
Each impact sent a faint pulse through my forehead. The pressure did not overwhelm me, but it accumulated steadily, like weight pressing against the inside of my skull.
Sham pressed forward again, hovering just enough above the ground to keep his movement unpredictable.
This time, I chose differently.
Instead of reaching for another shield, I stepped sharply to the side, allowing his incoming cut to slice through empty air. As his blade passed my shoulder, I pivoted on my back foot and countered immediately, driving my sword toward his midsection.
The shift caught him slightly off guard.
He drifted backward just in time, lifting himself higher in the air to avoid the arc of my blade. For a brief moment, surprise flickered across his face before his expression returned to calm focus.
"Skra-nice," he said, genuine approval in his tone.
Encouraged by the brief opening, I advanced without hesitation.
I drove forward with a horizontal slash aimed at his waist, followed immediately by a vertical strike meant to force him upward. Without pausing, I shifted into a diagonal cut and then a sharp thrust toward his chest. My blade sliced through the air in rapid succession, each movement deliberate and controlled.
For a moment, I felt the rhythm tilt slightly in my favor.
But Sham's ability to hover changed the nature of the fight.
He adjusted his height and position with subtle, almost effortless movements. When my horizontal strike came in, he rose just enough for it to pass beneath him. When I attacked vertically, he drifted sideways, letting the blade cut through empty space. My diagonal slash nearly caught his shoulder, but he leaned back midair, altering his center of balance without touching the ground.
Each time my sword came close, he shifted by a fraction, just enough to deny contact.
It was far easier for him to evade while airborne than if he had been rooted to the ground. On solid earth, even the most agile fighter had to commit weight to each step. In the air, Sham carried no such limitation. He shifted direction without friction, adjusting his height and angle with minimal effort. My attacks forced him to move, but they did not truly corner him.
Around us, the atmosphere began to change.
The gathered trainees leaned forward, tension building in their posture as the duel intensified. What had started as quiet curiosity was turning into open excitement. Murmurs gave way to louder reactions with each exchange of steel.
Soon, several of the younger warriors began shouting Sham's name. Their voices rose above the clash of swords, calling out encouragement as he hovered and countered with precision. It was clear he was admired among them, not only for his ability to fly but for the confidence and control he displayed in combat.
The sound of their cheers rolled across the clearing, adding pressure to every movement I made.
Through the shifting circle of spectators, as bodies moved and heads leaned for a better view, I caught sight of Vaela.
She stood slightly apart from the more vocal trainees, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Her posture was steady, unshaken by the noise around her. While others shouted Sham's name with excitement, she remained silent.
Her eyes were not on him... they were on me.
A faint warmth stirred in my chest at the sight of her steady gaze. It was not loud encouragement, not shouted support, but something quieter... belief. Before I could stop myself, a small smile formed at the corner of my lips.
Sham noticed immediately.
He hovered just beyond my reach, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied my expression. "Skra-smiling why?" he asked, suspicion and curiosity mixing in his tone.
I shook my head, forcing my focus back to him. "It is nothing."
Without allowing the moment to linger, I stepped forward decisively and swung my blade in a sharp diagonal arc toward him, the edge cutting upward with renewed intent.
He shifted effortlessly out of the path of my slash, drifting to the side with a controlled tilt of his body. Before my blade had even completed its arc, he countered.
From above, he brought his sword down in a sharp vertical strike, the motion fueled by both strength and the advantage of his elevated position.
I reacted quickly, forming a shield in front of me.
The translucent barrier snapped into existence just as his blade descended. Steel collided with energy, and the impact rang sharply across the clearing.
For a split second, the shield held.
But this strike carried more force than the ones before.
Cracks splintered across the barrier's surface. I felt the strain spike behind my eyes, sharper and heavier than before. The shield trembled violently under the pressure.
Then it shattered. It broke a fraction of a second too soon.
As the barrier dissolved, the downward momentum of his blade continued. I twisted my body aside at the last moment, but the tip of his sword still grazed my shoulder. The edge sliced through the fabric of my clothing and bit lightly into my skin.
A sharp sting flared across my shoulder. I stepped back and pressed my hand against the wound.
It was not deep. The fabric at my shoulder hung slightly torn where the blade had grazed me, and a thin line of red marked the place where steel had kissed skin.
Sham hovered a short distance away, steady in the air. A small, satisfied smile rested on his face, not mocking but acknowledging that he had finally broken through my defense.
Around us, the crowd reacted instantly.
A surge of cheers rose from the gathered trainees, louder than before. The sight of blood ignited their excitement, voices overlapping as they called out Sham's name.
I lowered my hand slowly and adjusted my grip on my sword. The sting in my shoulder did not weaken me.
I steadied my breathing, letting the noise fade into the background. My eyes locked onto Sham's once more, my focus narrowing until there was nothing else.
This was not over.