23 Rousing Clash
After deflecting the blows with his stern expression, Julius began thrusting his sword as if using a rapier, stabbing Rubert multiple times, though none of the wounds seemed to go very deep.
Pain didn’t seem like a concept that existed in the man with black and white eyes as he laughed, charging forward as he threw his blade into the air, spinning around and launching a kick against Julius’ abdomen.
“Gh!” Julius blocked it, but was knocked back.
“Father!” He yelled out.
With little semblance of rhyme or reason, Rubert jumped up, catching the handle of his silver blade in his mouth as he now wielded his sword in his jaws, swinging his neck around to attack.
Julius countered and deflected the blows, but the aggressiveness and accurate display of the mouth-style swordplay was nothing short of insane.
Rubert spun around, spitting his blade into his hand with a grin as he fought with what was relatively normal, but still unorthodox; spinning around, ducking and jumping up as he attacked.
“How do you like the Chaos God Style?! We’re technically rivals, you know?! The boring Mountain God whose sternness never erodes in the rain, and the maniacal Chaos God who spins anarchy into this world like yarn–which is superior, I wonder?!” Rubert laughed.
Ignoring the maddened man’s words, Julius stomped down, caving his boot into the soil below as a concussive shock wave momentarily froze Rubert.
“Mountain God Style: The Vale.”
Invoking the masterful technique, Julius used a picture-perfect overhead strike that split the wind that carved through the soil before embedding a gash across Rubert’s chest.
“–Amaz–”
“Shut up.”
With his free hand, Julius spoke quietly as he slammed his knuckles against Rubert’s nose, knocking the man through the stone wall as it crumbled away.
Though he didn’t get very far in learning it yet, as he was mostly being trained in the fundamentals of swordsmanship, he knew the strength behind the Mountain God Style swordplay well.
Those who use the Mountain God Style embody the stalwart nature of a mountain; they summon the monstrous strength of the sky-reaching rock formations, remain sturdy and can continue fighting on for days on end, Father tells me. Though it’s considered the most “rigid” of the Ten Divine Styles of the human lands, it also has its fair share of tricks up its sleeve, he thought.
Rubert jumped back to his feet, now covered in dust from the fallen stone with his unmoving smile as another brutal attack came in, this time shattering his knee was a kick.
In terms of physical might, Julius far outclasses Rubert, who was no slouch himself. Seeing a direct comparison like this, the young boy realized just what world of difference sat between him and an elite swordsman like his father.
Just minutes ago, he was helpless against Rubert, and now, his father was making Rubert seem like a powerless child himself, unable to land a single blow on the part-time adventurer.
Julius had no magic or mystical assistance; he was simply strong. Though “strong” had a different meaning in Arcadius than on Earth. By all means, the strength Julius possessed would be considered supernatural on Earth, but here–fantasy was reality.
“Grggh–! So merciless! Ha-ha!” Rubert laughed.
“I thought I told you to shut up,” Julius said coldly.
Even with a shattered knee and a crooked face, Rubert was smiling, flipping his sword between hands as he continued his dance with the Mountain God Style swordsman.
There was no doubting that the ginger-haired man was hardly clinging to any sanity, but what he did next dissuaded any notion of a working mind:
“You’ve got it all wrong~!”
“–?”
Just then, Rubert gripped onto the fabric covering his torso, ripping it open as he revealed a magic seal etched onto his chest.
“What’s that…?” He muttered.
Though he seemed to be the only one who didn’t recognize it as Veldalla yelled out desperately to his father.
“Get back, Julius!”
Julius jumped back just as Rubert lifted his blade, plunging it into the circular-symbol that sat in the center of the scar-made seal.
The moment the sword entered the man’s chest, it was as if a key had turned a lock:
BOOOOM.
An explosion of black flames swirled out, blasting the immediate area around the ginger man to kingdom come.
“Ghh!”
He was knocked back by the following shock wave, though Veldalla caught him in her arms, using her back to shield him from the pebbles and debris that flew outward from the explosion.
As it settled down, his ears were ringing, deafening him as he could see the amber-eyed woman’s lips moving, but hearing nothing come out from them.
“–Are you alright?!”
He finally heard her, nodding his head as she sat him down onto the ground.
They were surrounded by smoke that stretched across the courtyard, filling his lungs as he coughed up. He spun around, looking for his father before yelling out.
“Father!”
Please…! He thought.
As his heart throbbed and his stomach retreated into the depths of his being, he watched the familiar figure step in through the veil of heavy smoke.
“Father…!”
Julius coughed, regrouping with them as he exhaled heavily, “…Crazy bastard. Chaos God practitioners are always the same.”
They all stood there for a moment within the smoke. He looked up at his father, who looked down at him with eyes brimming with emotion.
“I–”
Before he could say anything, he was embraced by his father, who fell to his knees and wrapped his strong arms around him, holding him close.
“I’m sorry, Emilio…! It’s my fault for making you turn in the quest for me!” Julius cried, caressing the back of his head.
He stood there silently for a moment before tears left his eyes as well, returning his father’s embrace as he shook his head.
“…It’s not your fault,” he assured him.
–
After the black smoke had settled down, the remains of Rubert were nothing but a few scraps of burnt leather and charred flesh on the ground.
The three waited just outside of the abandoned prison gates, sitting together while waiting for the scouting party to return.
“You’re still shaking, Emilio. Did you have to…?” Julius trailed his words.
He stayed silent for a moment before nodding, looking down at his quivering hands. The memories were fresh of what he did in order to escape.
“I see,” Julius said quietly, glancing at Veldalla who stayed quiet in the tender situation, “…I’m proud of you. It’s easy for people to freeze and lay down, letting people walk all over them and allowing themselves to die. You acted, and you were successful.”
He shook his head, “That guy would’ve killed me if you didn’t show up. I couldn’t do anything against him.”
Julius looked over at Veldalla, who shot him a glare as if telling him “Comfort your kid”; the part-time adventurer seemed foreign with things like this, but he breathed in-and-out.
A wince came from him as he received a flick to the head from his father. He held his head, looking up in confusion at the scruffy-bearded man.
“You’re a kid. I know…I push you a lot and set high expectations for you, but it’s only because I know how amazing you are. Still, you’re just a kid. There are a lot of things out there far beyond your scope–you’ll get there, eventually,” Julius told him.