Clash of Cousins

The morning air felt charged with anticipation as Robert took his position once again.

Emer eyes narrowed. "Can we battle? Test how much battle experience we have?"

Robert nodded without hesitation. "I was thinking the same."

Without another word, both cousins stepped into the courtyard, the morning light catching on the polished swords in their hands.

Then—clang!

As their swords struck together, a wave of energy surged, resonating throughout the empty courtyard.

Robert shifted back, catching her blow with a narrow deflection. He dropped low, dirt kicking up as he swept in for a fast, low counter. Emer shifted with practiced ease, blocking it and driving forward with a two-step thrust.

Steel met steel again. Sparks flew.

Robert gritted his teeth. The pressure from Emer's strikes wasn't just heavy—it carried the weight of someone who had tempered his body through relentless training. 

But Robert wasn't the same boy anymore.

With a sharp breath, he stepped back and lowered his stance.

Then, he struck his palm against his chest.

A ripple of energy exploded from his core as golden qi surged along his arms, curling around them like twin dragon shadows. 

His twin swords glinted with power as he dashed forward—faster, sharper, and far more dangerous than before.

Emer eyes widened in shock as Robert swords carved through the air with terrifying precision, like twin fangs seeking the throat of their prey.

"You're using a Sword Art already?" Emer barked mid-clash, sparks flying as he blocked with both hands.

Robert pressed forward. "I'm done holding back."

His swords shimmered gold as his qi surged again.

[Twin Dragon Fang Art]

A surge of energy erupted beneath Robert feet. In an instant, he vanished from Emer front and reappeared at his side, swords lunging forward like a twisting fang.

Emer barely managed to parry. The sheer force slid him back three paces.

"Fast," he muttered, tightening his grip. "But not fast enough."

He slammed his foot down on the ground, creating a shockwave that spread out in all directions. His aura changed—fluid and refined.

He said Azure Petal Flow—Blooming Form: Crescent Bloom Arc.

His sword traced an elegant curve through the air, redirecting the momentum of Robert attack with a swift, rising arc. The movement was graceful yet forceful, like petals caught in a storm wind.

Steel clashed again—crack!—and this time the shock burst outward, sending a cloud of dust spiralling between them.

Robert landed low, skidding back, breathing heavily. His eyes narrowed.

The aura around Emer was calm and concentrated, like flowing water over steel, controlled but dangerous.

Both of them had drawn a bit of blood from minor cuts, which was a clear sign that this was far from a friendly warm-up.

"Twin Dragon Fang Art, huh?" Emer said, rolling his shoulder. Didn't think you'd pull that off this early.

"I found it hidden in the old Osborn library wing," Robert replied, lifting his sword again. "Didn't think you were still using Azure Petal Flow techniques either."

Emer smirked. "Old roots are harder to snap than you think."

Then they charged again—one with the fierce speed of a dragon's lunge, the other with the delicate grace of dancing petals.

Their swords gleamed in the sun, energy flaring wildly around them. 

Robert Twin Dragon Fang Art surged toward its final strike, and Emer Azure Petal Flow reached its peak bloom.

But just before the clash could land—

Boom!

A sudden force slammed between them, knocking both swords off course.

A deep voice resonated throughout the courtyard. "That's enough."

The wind stilled. Qi settled.

Both Robert and Emer took a step back, their swords clattering to the ground. They were breathing hard, sweat running down their faces as the tension slowly eased.

At the far end of the courtyard, someone shifted. A tall man stepped into view, the Osborn crest stitched onto his worn robes. He didn't say a word, but the way he stood—the weight in his gaze—was enough to draw their attention.

Elder Alex.

His sharp gaze swept across both cousins. "Do you know what would've happened if that last strike connected?"

Neither spoke.

"You would've both been wounded. Badly. And with the clan competition only days away, you wouldn't have recovered in time."

Robert and Emer exchanged a glance, then quickly bowed in unison.

"Elder Alex," they said respectfully.

Alex's arms moved behind his back, his tone calm—but with an edge beneath it. You both know how to perform!

You've both come a long way, but don't let raw power fool you. You've got strength, yeah. But without control? That same strength will get you killed.

It's not about how hard you hit. It's about whether you know when to stop swinging. Discipline, awareness, and precision—those are what make a real warrior.

His gaze turned slightly colder.

"Our rivals have more experience and more refined teamwork. If we want to see the Osborn name make a comeback, we need to be careful about the talent we choose. We need warriors who are both powerful and prepared."

He looked at Robert. "Your combat art is deadly but unpredictable."

Then at Emer. "And your Azure Flow—elegant, but still reactive."

He waited a moment before continuing, "You need to train harder—and sharpen those instincts.

If either of you underestimates the competition, you won't just lose. You'll drag the clan down with you."

Robert and Emer both lowered their heads.

"Yes, Elder."

Alex gave a slow nod. "Good. Rest for now. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

With that, he turned and vanished down the corridor, leaving behind a silence filled with purpose.

The cousins stood quietly for a moment.

Robert sheathed his sword. The more progress they made, the farther the end seemed to be.

Emer smirked. "Then let's get there before anyone else does."

The two cousins stayed in the courtyard, letting the warmth of the morning sun cool the sweat on their brows.

For half an hour, they enjoyed a moment of silence, stretching, drinking water, and taking the time to recover their breath.

The earlier tension was gone, replaced by mutual respect. 

Their swords had spoken all that words could not.

Then, wordlessly, they both stood.

Robert took his stance. "One more round?"

Emer nodded. "Technique only. No qi this time."

For the next two hours, the clang of steel echoed again through the courtyard—not in battle, but in harmony.

They practiced form after form.

Footwork. Angles. Recovery speed.

Robert's movements grew sharper. Emer's flow grew faster.

Even without full power, their swords began to feel like extensions of themselves. By the end, both could feel it progress.

As they sheathed their swords, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, Robert reached into his robe.

"I've got something for you," he said, pulling out a small wooden box and offering it to Emer.

Emer raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"Body Tempering Enhancement Pill. Should help with your breakthrough to Level 9."

Emer opened the box, expecting a decent-quality supplement.

But the moment the pill touched the air, a faint golden shimmer pulsed across its surface. It was dense, radiant, and marked with five distinct purity lines spiraling along the shell.

"Five-line purity…" Emer whispered, stunned. "This isn't clan-made. Not even our main alchemist can refine something this pure."

He looked up sharply. "Where did you get this?"

Robert replied calmly, "Bought it from Grey Shadow Hall. Last week."

Emer stared at him for a long second. "Those pills cost a fortune. Even access is restricted."

Robert shrugged. "I had my ways."

Emer didn't press further. He could sense there was more behind Robert's growth—more than training or talent. But he respected that silence.

He closed the box carefully. "Thanks. I'll put it to use right away."

Robert nodded. "Good luck with the breakthrough."

Without another word, Emer turned and walked toward the inner hall, the pill gripped tightly in his hand.

Robert watched him leave, and the courtyard was finally quiet again.

The path forward was long, but today it felt a little clearer.