Maturing

Fell rose from his cross-legged position. Popping sounds resounded in the quiet room. His joints and bones snapped and cracked due to his long period of inactivity.

His blood started running through his veins, awakening the power hidden in his flesh.

He clenched his fist and felt power streaming through his blood, a satisfied smile drew on his lips.

"Top-Level Physique Molding. I feel like I can completely wreck Gladiator's Heaven if I gave it my all." He roughly assessed his power, then took out his blade from his Spatial Pocket.

He grabbed his sword from the pommel with his right hand, while his left hand coursed through the blade. His eyes shined in the dark, and an obscene grin appeared on his face.

"One week without touching you, I thought I was gonna go crazy!" shivering from excitement, he barged out of his room.

His last sword practice left his wall filled with deep cuts, and he feared that in his current state. He might cut the small construct in half, Sifiso wouldn't let that slide.

He stepped outside for the first time since his seclusion. The moon hung high in the sky, showing him that it was the middle of the night. A gust of fresh wind hit his senses, refreshing his mind and clearing his lungs.

Fell took a deep breath, inflating his lungs to their highest limit. His torso rose during his inhalation, reaching an inhuman proportion. Before deflating, a rapid arrow of gas escaped from his lips. It traveled in a straight path before hitting the bark of a tree, marking it with a deep cut.

The small courtyard was empty at this hour. Most gladiators were either sleeping or celebrating their victory in the city. He enjoyed training in the night, his sword in hand, watched by the cold and distant Moon.

He watched the astral plane; the soft moonlight slowly cleansed his mind. His chest rose up and down in a slight rhythm, reminiscent of his past.

Fell was thinking about his accomplishments; he was processing all of the last events. Starting from his meeting from Anzar, shifting his destiny from its original path.

"Blue Emperor, it looks like I have made myself quite the strong brother." He thought, the idea that Anzar might forget him not even crossing his mind.

Due to living in the atrocious Baby Cemetery, Fell acquired a strange talent. He could smell people, roughly identifying if they had good or bad intention.

He was confident of his talent, Anzar was and will always be his brother. Blue Emperor or not, he was Fell's first friend.

He was standing with a straight back, reminiscences of his past made his eyes shine with a strange light. A bizarre pressure suffused from him, crushing the weed close to his feet.

Moha's near-death experience passed in his mind, his heart skipping a beat. His burning anger was still fresh in his mind, and he remembered the oath he took. His intrinsic loneliness made him take a vow to protect his close one.

Following that, his assault on DarkSun flashed in his mind. His encounter with Arto and Zhang made him realise something important.

In life, no one was right or wrong, and everyone has their paths. Arto left Fell with a seed of respect, respect for the cultivators' community.

Even Vicious Zhang was part of Fell's change, the gang leader flashed in his mind.

"We are the same. Born in the poor and deprived slums, unwanted by the world, looked in contempt by everyone. They all deserve my respect, respect for grasping their weapons and fighting destiny. Carving themselves their path in this universe."

Moha, Sifiso, Anzar, every single one of them was part of Fell's change. Those three figures passed in his mind, causing a beaming smile on his lips.

Fell rarely confronted his emotions like this. It was a novel experience for him; his newfound power came with even more significant responsibility.

He couldn't afford to disappoint them; he couldn't afford to disappoint himself.

He had the chance of finally having a clear grasp of his destiny, his path was clear. He could only aim at the top, anything lower would be an insult to his opportunity.

His sword in his left hand touched the pommel with his right hand. His hand grabbed around Soldier's Fortune; fingers gripped around the weapon's handle. His wrist was firm but not forceful, leaving enough maneuverability in his swordplay.

He unsheathed his weapon, his eyes filled to the brim with his feelings. His motion was smooth and fluid, comparable to water streaming down a river.

His blade appeared in the night, illuminating the dark courtyard.

He executed his foundational stances, warming himself. His blade danced under the moon, creating a beautiful picture.

One man and one sword, dancing under the cold Moon's watch. His swordsmanship nourished and grew stronger with his feelings; his strikes showed his mental state.

He soon finished executing his foundational moves, passing from One-Handed sword stances to Broadsword stances, switching between leading the sword in his motions, and being driven by the sword's weight.

He immersed himself in his training; every single stroke served as a way to empty his feelings. He slashed forward using the weapon's excessive weight and spun in the air due to the slash's momentum.

He ended the broadsword stances with a slice in the reverse direction, sending a sharp wind in its path.

Finishing his warmup, he started mixing both sword stances. One strike after another, he slowly hid the broadswords simple yet heavy nature inside the sneaky One-Handed sword style.

His strikes were separating from both styles, turning into a strange sword style. His swordsmanship was maturing, leaving the classic foundational moves.

Fell dissected every stances' concept, adding it in each of his blows. The One-Handed sword style and Broadsword style were disappearing with each motion.

Nurturing his swordsmanship with each stance, an incredible transformation was happening.

He was comparable to a larva turning into a butterfly; his swordsmanship was maturing at a fast pace.

Under the moonlight, Fell's heart was burning with passion. With Soldier's Fortune in hand guiding his dance, every single motion he did send him the impression that he was a part of nature itself.

In the middle of the night, his sword's edge bloomed with a soft moonlight. Activating Moon Above.

His sword sped through the air. His figure disappeared from the courtyard; his velocity exceeded the human's eyes detection.

Fell slashed while executing Moon Above, Swordlight dashed through the empty courtyard.

The Swordlight was in the form of a Half Moon; it cut through the air before dissipating ten meters from its source.