The fight was over much faster than any of his previous encounters with Nightreavers. Arthur steeled himself and managed to impair the beast's wing on its second attack, from there he was quick to finish it. The creature's movements had been predictable—a lunging strike followed by an aerial sweep that Arthur had anticipated this time. As the beast swooped low for its second pass, Arthur pivoted at the last moment, his blade catching the membranous wing and slicing through it with a sickening tear.
The Nightreaver's screech of pain echoed across the rose field, a sound like metal scraping against glass that made Arthur's teeth ache. The beast tumbled, its flight path disrupted, crashing into the bed of roses several feet away. Arthur didn't hesitate. Before the creature could right itself, he closed the distance with three rapid strides and plunged his sword into what passed for its head. The blade sank deep, meeting resistance for only a moment before the creature shuddered once and went still.
Luckily, Arthur walked away with no injuries. You can call it luck, or maybe he's just getting better at killing these things. The darkness that had once seemed so threatening now felt almost like an ally, enhancing his senses, strengthening his limbs. Each encounter with these nocturnal hunters was teaching him something new—about them, about himself, about survival.
Arthur was pulling the blade of his sword out of the dead Nightreaver as Aziel walked up with a rather bored look on his face. The sword made a wet, sucking sound as it slid free from the creature's body. Black ichor clung to the metal, viscous and gleaming in the moonlight.
Arthur looked at Aziel and concern began to blossom in his chest at his companion's expression. Something seemed off about the usually energetic youth.
"What is it?" Arthur asked, his voice still slightly breathless from the exertion of battle.
Aziel yawned and stretched his arms, the gesture exaggerated and dramatic. "I'm bored... I didn't get to fight anything."
Arthur's face went from concern to unamusement real quick. The tension in his shoulders released as he realized there was no actual problem. 'Right, I forgot this guy was insane.'
Arthur sighed, letting his sword disappear. "Well, how did I do?" His tone carried a hint of eagerness beneath the attempted casualness. Despite himself, he found that he craved Aziel's approval, wanted confirmation that he was improving.
Aziel scratched the back of his head, eyes scanning the fallen Nightreaver with clinical detachment. "You did fine. You have fought enough of these beasts now to understand their attack patterns, which is why it's becoming increasingly easier for you."
Arthur felt a small surge of pride at the assessment, but it was short-lived as Aziel continued.
"But that still doesn't change the fact that your technique sucks, and as soon as we run into a monster that you haven't fought before, you'll have a tough time."
The words struck Arthur like physical blows, deflating his momentary satisfaction. The truth in them was undeniable, and he found himself unable to muster even token resistance. Under the moonlight, surrounded by roses whose beauty belied the dangers that lurked among them, Arthur let out a breath of guilt.
Aziel is right, Arthur may have begun to start cracking down on these Nightreavers, but what about when they leave the rose field? When more and more monsters began to show their face? Would he have to rely on luck and Aziel to get him home?
The blue-haired boy was examining the Nightreaver's corpse, prodding it with his foot to assess which parts might be salvageable for meat. He seemed oblivious to Arthur's internal struggle, focused entirely on the practical matter at hand.
...No, Arthur had already decided he wasn't going to rely on people fully anymore. The memory of his resolution burned bright in his mind, chasing away the shadows of doubt. He would be his own strength; he will take what he wants and do what he wants using his own power, nobody else's. So he's going to have to get stronger... and quick.
The night breeze carried the sweet scent of roses mingled with the metallic tang of the Nightreaver's blood. Stars sparkled overhead, countless and indifferent to the small dramas playing out beneath them. Arthur watched as Aziel knelt beside the monster's corpse, drawing his spears blade close.
Aziel gave him some more tips as he worked—observations about Arthur's footwork, suggestions for maintaining better balance during his strikes, warnings about telegraphing his movements. His hands moved deftly, separating edible flesh from toxic organs with practiced precision.
"You're still putting too much weight on your forward foot," Aziel commented, slicing through sinew with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Makes it harder to recover if you miss. And you almost did when it dodged your first strike."
Arthur nodded, mentally filing away the advice. Every word was valuable, another small piece in the puzzle of becoming stronger.
They cut off the meat of the Nightreaver and Arthur put it in his realm storage. He took a sip of water, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat, before he and Aziel were once again back on their trek.
They walked the rest of the night and didn't run into any more problems. The roses continued endlessly in all directions, their beauty becoming almost monotonous after so many days of seeing nothing else. Occasionally, Arthur would attempt to capture that elusive feeling again—the tangibility of darkness—but it remained just beyond his grasp, like trying to hold smoke in his hands.
Eventually, dawn broke through the darkness, the sky lightening from inky black to deep blue to pale lavender. The first rays of sunlight caught the dew on the roses. With the coming of light, they were able to relax once more... well, Arthur was; Aziel was already relaxed, his stride as casual and unhurried as if they were taking a morning stroll through a peaceful garden rather than traversing a dangerous realm.
The morning warmed gradually as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The day promised to be clear and hot, already Arthur could feel sweat beginning to gather at the back of his neck. They walked a little longer until it was closer to noon before stopping to rest, eat, and most importantly, train.
Arthur was nervous as they settled in a small clearing where the roses were less dense. He was going to do whatever Aziel told him to and trust in him as a teacher, but then again, Aziel is a little unhinged, so who knows if what he's teaching is really all that optimal. The memory of yesterday's "spar" was still fresh in his mind—and in the bruises that decorated his body beneath his robes.
But Arthur doesn't exactly have much of a choice. He has to get stronger, and Aziel, for all his eccentricities, is clearly powerful. Sometimes the most difficult paths lead to the greatest rewards. He just hopes he's not going to have to spar him again. Arthur's enhanced body was healing his wounds fast, but they were still there and easily reopened... plus they hurt, so Arthur wasn't too keen on the idea of getting beat up right now.
They sat among the roses, the petals creating a natural cushion beneath them. Aziel took the Nightreaver meat and began his lightning cooking process, blue-white energy crackling around his hands. As usual, the meat came out charred on the outside while remaining questionably undercooked within. Arthur had begun to grow accustomed to the taste—or lack thereof—focusing instead on the sustenance it provided.
He finished his burnt monster meat and took another small sip of water before standing up and stretching. His muscles protested mildly, still sore from yesterday's beating and the night's exertions. The sun was directly overhead now, casting short shadows around them and bathing the rose field in brilliant light.
Aziel stood up as well, brushing rose petals from his clothing with casual flicks of his hands. His hair shone almost painfully bright in the midday sun, and his eyes held that familiar gleam of anticipation that Arthur had come to recognize—and slightly dread.
"Summon your sword."
The command was simple but carried weight. Arthur flinched as he did as he was told, extending his hand and calling forth the blade. It materialized in his grip, solid and reassuring despite his apprehension. He was waiting in fear to see if Aziel would summon his spear, muscles tensing in anticipation of another brutal "lesson."
But to his surprise, the spear remained unsummoned. Aziel's hands stayed empty, his posture relaxed and non-threatening. Arthur allowed himself to relax slightly, shoulders dropping from their defensive hunch.
Aziel got closer, circling Arthur with a critical eye, assessing his stance and grip on the weapon. There was something different about him now—a seriousness, a focus that was absent during their usual interactions. For once, the manic grin was nowhere to be seen.
"Get in a stance," Aziel instructed, his voice firm but not unkind.