One Final Spar

The wooden stairs leading up to the cabin entrance creaked softly as the pair settled down on them. The air was crisp and cool, with the scent of flintwood so reminiscent of the pine trees the duo had smelt on their journey through planets back to the human race's mainland, Earth. Woodsmoke filled their nostrils. The cabin itself was a rustic affair, with a rough-hewn exterior of weathered wood and a steeply pitched roof that rose up to a chimney.

As they sat there, the father and son gazed out at the surrounding forest, taking in the sights and sounds of the natural world around them. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and a distant bird called out in a haunting melody. In the distance, they could hear the sound of a stream bubbling and gurgling over rocks.

Rodrick, deciding to cut short the idle chatter, proceeded to more urgent matters.

"Cedric, you are leaving for the forge tomorrow. Traveling on the Federation's spacecraft, it will take you two months to reach your destination. As much as I regret to say, I can't come with you."

Cedric, anticipating his old man's words, made a conscious decision to let Rodrick finish voicing what they both yearned to hear this time around.

"Let us enjoy our last moments together with a spar. Wait, why are you so silent? What? No interruptions, no quips, or your usual smart-ass comments on me repeating the same sentence over and over? Are you scared of leaving your old man behind? I thought that I taught you better than that-"

"No, Dad. I am just happy to know that this time you'll stop holding back. I promise I'll try to miss you while I'm gone."

Cedric never had the heart to interrupt his father, as the retelling of old tales never failed to spark his curiosity. Besides, Rodrick had once confided in him that his interruptions reminded him of Cedric's mother, whom he knew little about except for vague stories of their time together before Cedric's birth.

Seeing his father's smile, Cedric decided that once he came back, he would ask his father about Mom.

"I'll be right back, Cedric."

A couple of minutes later, his father returned carrying a single sheathed sword. Cedric, seeing the familiar weapon, felt understanding wash over him.

"I really hope that sword is for me because I can't face you with my wooden training sword."

"Hah, I have long since forgotten about this old relic until one day you dug it up from our basement and brought it to me. Too curious for your own good. Here."

Cedric, catching the sword his father threw towards him, took a moment to unsheathe it. Glancing at the blade, Cedric felt as if the weapon was a part of him, finally holding a bladed weapon again after so many years of training with the same dull wooden sword. Cedric was able to notice some etchings carved onto the blade's side.

The sword itself looked like a mundane arming sword, except for the blade guard carved into what looked like a two-dimensional flame, with strange symbols etched inside the fuller, cutting down the middle of the double-edged weapon. The length of the blade itself was 90 centimeters, quite a bit longer than the typical sword carried by federation knights.

Cedric saw his father facing him, having taken the textbook roof guard stance. Cedric considered his possibilities, thinking that taking a fool's guard to taunt his opponent would not work, as he was not sparring with the rank and file soldiers his father called to help him train.

No, this time, he would take the offensive. It was time to show the fruits of his labor after training since he turned 9 years old. Thinking back on that moment, he was glad that he managed to force his father to tell him about the sword he found in a dusty container in the basement.

Moving his right foot in front of his left and extending the sword held in his arm forward, Cedric assumed the long point stance. He stood completely still, searching for weak points in his father's guard. As a stray leaf carried by the wind passed in front of the duo, Cedric rushed forth, lifting his sword high and cutting down as he approached. Rodrick, with his sword slightly lowered to match his son's height, was about to counter the strike, yet it never came.

Backstepping to his father's side, Cedric swung his sword at his father's back, aiming for the hulking man's flank. Rodrick stepped to his right while turning left to face Cedric, and the wooden sword in his left hand left a booming noise as he swiped to his left, meeting his son's blade.

Cedric's mind was running at full throttle. Sparring with his father when the latter was lowering himself to mortal level was manageable, but this was no mortal-ranked speed. His father had instead decided to raise his capabilities to copper rank. Countering his father's increased speed with his centuries-long swordfighting knowledge was no minor feat.

As the swords were about to clash, Cedric pulled his left palm gripping below his right slightly up and to the right. The blades passed by each other with only a thin margin.

Glad that he succeeded in saving his arms from needless pain with a simple maneuver, Cedric disengaged and jumped back with his blade lowered.

Surprise colored Rodrick's face as he was ecstatic, thinking to himself, "This kid, he already started feeling his sword. I wonder how Diana will react when she sees what kind of monster I am sending her way."

They again engaged in a ceaseless bout of trying to expose each other's mistakes for a potential strike. Upon seeing his father disengage, Cedric decided he was going to finish this fight in the next exchange.

Breathing in sharply, Cedric focused on controlling his breath. He had learned throughout his time training with his father that breathing properly is the best way to settle into a rhythm. Short and sharp breaths would facilitate fast and instantaneous movements followed by quick strikes, while heaving a long, drawn-out breath could help relax his muscles for focusing on dodging or using a strong, well-timed finisher. Knowing that dragging out this fight any longer would tire his mind and impair his thinking, he decided to finish the bout in a single strike.