A Fight Between Spearmen

A boy looked down at the fading armored spearman apparition thing.

His makeshift spear, cracked and almost broken, embedded itself at the center of the fading spearman's chest. Yet, once he disappeared entirely, it didn't drop as it was also embedded into the stone wall.

As he looked at his spear, he couldn't help but think...

'How did I get here?'

...

Jonah trudged to the front of the armor spearman, a few meters away.

If he had anything to think about other than his little sister and growing stronger, it was just that...

He wasn't feeling this. Not one bit. He wasn't scared, don't get him wrong.

He wasn't...enthusiastic. Although the virtue the Rector had said did pique his interest, he knew for a fact he won't get one.

Maybe his angelic little sister would-bless her lovely heart. However, Jonah knew himself well, and he is no hero.

Erebus walked a little further behind Jonah and faced the armored swordsman, who was standing near the wall.

"Well, good luck Jonah. This will be a tough one," Erebus said with a wide grin.

Jonah only shook his head as he watched his opponent.

All of a sudden, both the swordsman and the spearman did a gesture, placing their weapon vertically, and bowed.

Jonah blinked, but he copied the spearman. Placing his makeshift spear in front of him vertically, he slowly bowed.

Erebus seemed to have done the same as well, placing his sword vertically and bowing/

The four then fell into their stances, and the battle began.

...

The white-haired boy didn't move. This time, he was carefully watching the armored spearman.

The spearman seemed to be watching him too. Then, he took simply took a step forward and 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥. The sharp semi-transparent spear from his right-hand thrust forward, extending its sharp point at an abnormally far range, and it headed right for Jonah.

Jonah took a step to the right, the spear went right by his face like a gust of wind. Then, he swiftly ducked as the spear swung over him, and jumped back as the spear smashed into the cold stone and marble floor.

He took a shaky breath as he placed a finger over his face. In the dim church, he was able to see a mark of crimson red blood on his finger. A sting of pain pulsed on his right cheek.

Amidst the clanging noises of metal against metal in the background, the boy had a revelation. He realized he was not ready for this.

The boy's back was drenched in a cold sweat as he breathed shakily again and tried to calm down.

If it weren't for his mana enhanced body and that strange training where he dodged beams of light, then that would've pierced him straight through.

"Are you this weak? Pathetic," a deep voice suddenly came up from the armored spearman.

The boy blinked, but then he shrugged.

Now they're smack-talking each other? These duel shenanigans are weird.

He didn't know when this would end, so he will have to survive long enough for the other boy to help him.

Or wake up from this dream.

The white-haired boy hoped it was the latter.

Then, he fell into his stance and slowly began approaching the spearman.

One step...a second step...another step...

For the boy, each step was agonizingly slow, yet his eyes stayed on the armored spearman, who seemed to be waiting.

Suddenly, he thrust his spear forward.

The armored spearman, like a fluid river, gracefully batted his spear aside, and like a raging river, thrust his spear forward with such strength, the wind parted ways. Once again, Jonah barely leaned his head forward, and the spear skimmed the top of his hair.

The armored spearman's left side was open.

A chance.

Spotting an opening in the opponent's left armpit, the white-haired boy pierced his spear towards it.

He put all the mana he was able to into his feet to lunge forward and his arms to thrust his spear harder. It touched the armor...but it stopped, as he heard the sound of a metal chink.

'...chainmail?' the boy thought, and then he remembered where he was.

"Oh dear-"

The white-haired boy felt a fist placing itself gently onto his right cheek. Sorry, not gently, 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺. The metal gauntlet of a fist was placed firmly onto his face, and as a result, the poor boy flew into the air and crashed onto one of the pews.

𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩!

...

"Ugh..." Jonah groaned.

His first thought was to thank Avalow for truly helping and guiding him earlier on. The mana reinforced body did cushion the blow, but it still hurt. Jonah continued coughing and groaning as he crawled out of the broken pew.

Jonah was lucky. If he didn't learn from Avalow how to reinforce his body with mana, he would've been knocked out way earlier. His training with dodging the magic beams also helped with his reaction speed.

As he was getting up and dusting himself, he heard a rasp from the armored spearman nearby.

"You have no skill. You simply just stab and swing. There is no technique behind it."

The boy coughed, and he simply shrugged.

"I've only held this weapon for at least a month."

The armored spearman looked at him deeply, and Jonah looked back. After a few moments, he shook his head.

"...do you not have any pride either?" the armored spearman asked.

Jonah became stumped.

Pride? Why would he care about that? It's not like he'll get stronger or anything with it to protect Chaya.

As long as he can protect his little sister, some measly pride didn't matter.

"Why would I need pride?"

"Then why are you here fighting then?"

"...to try to find a way to leave, and to get stronger."

"Oh, thou art fighting to get stronger yes? But thou saidst thou does not also have pride, yes? Not for thee, but for someone else?"

"..."

Jonah saluted with his spear once more before running towards him.

...

"Commendable, but it is not enough."

Nothing seemed to have changed as the battle continued to be one-sided. The armored spearman continued pushing and pushing the white-haired boy away, landing lethal and fearsome blows here and there.

Yet, the boy is learning quickly.

Every time the boy began his attack, he didn't just focus on an opening. He tried to look at his surroundings, to predict what was coming.

Of course, there were many errors. A knee to his stomach, another fist onto his face...

"Do not think while fighting," the armored spearman said as he kicked the boy once more. The white-haired boy flew back again, but he managed to land on the ground-albeit with much difficulty.

It truly hurt. Every pulse of pain, every sting...he hated it a lot. At least he was learning.

Every bruise he gained, he learned to avoid. Every wound he gained, he learned to ignore.

He bet it would be faster if the armored spearman was a certain someone with beautiful eyes.

An unknown amount of time had passed. The candles flickered, but they never stopped giving off their dull orange glow.

Although some time had passed, for the boy, and every second longer his breath grew more ragged.

Several thrusts and swipes, but the armored man parried them all with skill. Once again, he tried to focus on where the openings are, but the armored man suddenly kicked him. The boy dodged to the side, but another fist landed on his cheek-the left side this time.

The boy fell back a couple of steps, but he quickly resumed his steps.

He sighed, and he rubbed his cheek and spit to the side. Then, he ran towards the spearman.

"Thou's learning ability is strong. Even amongst the squires among the order, thou art indeed...talented," the armored spearman talked while they fought.

The boy looked weird, but the armored spearman continued.

"However, that is not enough."

The white-haired boy suddenly felt a chill as the armored spearman stood even taller.

"Each and every warrior must have a goal to walk towards. Thou'st indeed have some skill. However, thy goal is to get stronger, but that's it. It is not a true goal, just a minor one."

A burst of strength came from the armored spearman, and he stood up with his back straight, becoming even taller.

"My name is Sir Perc, Knight of the Holy Order, young traveler."

"...my name is Jonah," the white-haired boy quietly said.

"Now then, it is with my deepest apologies that I must anger thee. Forgive me."

"Huh?" the boy unconsciously asked, but then he quickly realized what he meant later.

"Now then, imagine your loved one...hmm... is it your mother? No...your little sister?"

The boy's eyes widened at the mention, and Sir Perc noticed, Taking that as an answer, he continued talking deeply.

"Imagine the little sister of thee, dying by my hands. Impaled by my spear. I'll slaughter thou'st loved one, and I'll-"

At that moment, the white-haired boy's world turned red.

He ran towards Sir Perc, who immediately moved to parry. He swung his spear, but the boy knew it was coming. Ducking underneath the swinging overhead spear, he went closer to the armored spearman.

Spinning his spear, the boy turned the base of his spear upward, and he smacked the spearman's chin. The spearman's head flew upward, and the white-haired boy summoned everything he has as he spun the spear with its sharp point forward, and thrust it into the crevice of an opening that is called the throat.

He felt something blocking his spear from pushing forward. A chink, a sound of metal. It tried to block him, but he didn't care. He pushed it even farther, and within a second, the block gave way, and he heard something squished.

The boy grabbed the armored spearman's spear, which had just fallen out of his gauntlet's grasp. Grabbing it, he almost leaned forward from the weight. Still, he gritted his teeth and rammed the spearman's chest with the spearman's own weapon.

Somehow, the once tough metal armor that he feared gave way for the spear to enter his chest. The white-haired boy heard a squish, but he didn't care as he continued impaling the spearman, ramming him into the wall with a huge 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘥 and-

𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬!

At that moment, the boy gripped the spear with his right hand. Gripping it as hard as he could, he quickly twisted it. A sickening crack echoed the entire cathedral, silencing the clanging of metal.

...

A brown-haired boy holding his sword looked to the side at the sudden sound, and his eyes almost bulged open. The armored swordsman who was fighting him stopped and stared at the white-haired boy.

The boy gulped as he watched the white-haired boy watching the impaled armored spearman.

"I don't wanna get on that guy's bad side."

...

Jonah released his grip on the spear and stepped a couple of steps back. Breathing harshly, his lungs continued pumping in the fresh air as he exhaustively examined the fallen armored spearman.

Not fallen, no, he was embedded into the wall, the spear holding him upright.

Sir Perc, the armored spearman, looked to be slowly disappearing. Strange blue particles began lifting from him, and as a result, the armored spearman became more and more transparent.

𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩...𝘤-𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩!

The armored spearman struggled to breathe, gasping for air as he coughed and sputtered. Jonah only watched him silently as Sir Perc struggled to breathe. Then, he heard a whisper.

"𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩...my-my sincerest apologies, young Jonah-𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩!"

"..."

The white-haired boy quietly continued to watch the armored spearman struggle.

"As a token of my apologies...t-take my-𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩-spear. May...the Lord God Almighty watches the path thou treads..."

With the last remaining breath, the armored spearman named Sir Perc sighed, and he disappeared entirely.

Jonah's spear clattered onto the cold ground, and all that was left of Sir Perc was his spear, embedded into the stone wall.