Chapter 99: Swordplay

Chapter 99: Chapter 99: Swordplay

"The master has failed more times than the beginner has even tried." — Stephen McCranie

The cavern opening looked out over a desolate amphitheater of obsidian pillars and frozen basalt flows. It was cold enough for breath to bloom into white mist, but Riven stood bare chested from the waist up, his steel blade gleaming in the faint blue light of the surrounding bioluminescent fungus.

Clang!

The sharp, metallic ringing of steel on steel echoed across the stone floor before being swallowed by the surrounding darkness.

Riven staggered back three paces, his heel skidding against the slick rock. His wrist throbbed with a dull, ringing pain, and his blade pointed uselessly toward the ground.

Elora stood five paces away, her arming sword held loosely in a low, effortless guard.

She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

"You’re relying too much on momentum," Elora said, lowering her weapon.

Riven straightened slowly, flexing his aching wrist.

"My forms worked before."

"They work against slower enemies."

Elora stepped closer.

"Against something faster than you, or someone who actually knows what they’re doing, your transitions leave you wide open."

She raised her sword and pointed toward his centerline.

"Especially here."

Riven glanced down.

Elora lightly tapped his right hip with the flat of her blade.

Then his left shoulder.

"Every time you move from a heavy slash into your recovery, your body gets ahead of your blade. You’re depending on Phantom Step to cover the opening."

Riven studied her stance.

"Phantom Step closes the distance."

"It does."

Elora nodded.

"But you’re treating it like a reset."

She shifted her footing and demonstrated the movement again, this time slowly enough for Riven to follow every part of it.

"My master taught me that the blade and the feet should move as one. You shouldn’t finish your step and then move your sword."

She pivoted smoothly.

"You move the sword with the step."

Riven watched her feet.

"When you use Phantom Step, don’t think about going from one point to another. Push the mana through your heel as you pivot."

She demonstrated again.

"Let the shadow carry your momentum into the strike. Don’t let it carry you first and leave your sword behind."

Riven’s eyes narrowed as he processed the movement.

He had always treated his techniques and swordsmanship as separate tools.

Maybe that was the problem.

He looked at his blade.

"Again."

Elora smiled faintly.

"That’s what I was hoping you’d say."

Riven raised his sword into a mid guard stance.

For the next six hours, the obsidian amphitheater was filled with the relentless rhythm of clashing steel.

Elora pushed him without mercy.

Whenever Riven attempted one of his standard linear attacks, she redirected his blade and struck him lightly with her pommel.

Again.

Again.

Again.

"Too wide."

Clang!

"Your weight is late."

Clang!

"You’re moving before your sword."

Clang!

Riven gritted his teeth.

"Again."

Elora nodded.

"Again."

He stopped thinking about the individual techniques.

Instead, he began watching the relationship between his feet, his blade, and his mana.

He started with small movements.

A three inch shift.

A brief flicker of shadow beneath his heel.

A fraction of a second where his body disappeared from Elora’s vision.

Then he attacked.

It wasn’t a full Phantom Step.

It didn’t need to be.

The smallest possible movement was enough.

Riven gradually began weaving tiny bursts of mana into his footwork. Rather than completely leaving the battlefield and reappearing somewhere else, he moved small distances.

Three inches.

Six inches.

Half a step.

Each time, he returned already moving with his sword.

No wasted motion.

No loss of balance.

No separation between his body and his blade.

Clang!

Their swords collided again.

This time, Riven didn’t stumble.

Elora’s blade slid against his, attempting to redirect the strike.

Riven immediately released a tiny burst of mana through his heel.

His body shifted.

For a fraction of a second, he vanished.

He reappeared already inside Elora’s guard.

Her eyes widened.

Riven’s hilt slammed against her crossguard, locking their swords together.

They stopped.

Their blades remained pressed against one another at chest height.

Their faces were only inches apart.

Both were breathing heavily from the hours of training, white mist escaping their mouths in the cold air.

Elora looked down at their locked blades.

Then she looked back at Riven.

A bright smile slowly appeared on her face.

"That was it."

Riven blinked.

"That was it?"

"Yeah."

She laughed softly.

"That was actually good."

A small smile tugged at Riven’s lips.

"Good enough?"

Elora’s smile widened.

"Good enough that my master would’ve noticed."

Riven looked down at their swords.

Something warm settled in his chest.

Not the satisfaction of surviving another day.

Not the relief of finding food or shelter.

Pride.

He had actually learned something.

He lowered his sword.

Elora did the same.

Riven glanced at her.

"Then I guess we keep going."

Elora nodded.

"Exactly."

For the first time since falling through the rift, Riven didn’t feel like he was merely enduring the abyss.

He was adapting to it.

Learning from it.

And with Elora beside him, he was beginning to turn the place that had nearly destroyed him into the training ground that would eventually make him stronger than he had ever imagined.