Chapter 56: Preparation For The Battle Shadows

Just a day had passed, and only one remained before Xavier would face his toughest opponent yet: the Grim Reaper of the Abyss, Adam Durandal.

In a bustling training ground, filled with adventurers, warriors, and Gladiator Grand Festival participants, Xavier trained alone. Stripped to the waist, he swung a wooden sword in relentless repetition. Sweat poured down his well-defined muscles as the sun baked his skin, each motion precise yet forceful.

His mind, however, was far from still. The looming fight against Adam Durandal consumed his thoughts. This opponent was unlike any other—an unbeatable force of nature, or so it seemed. Xavier’s heart raced with a strange, unfamiliar rhythm. His breaths came heavier, his body drenched in sweat—but not just from exertion. Was it fear? Anxiety? Or the dread of confronting a seemingly insurmountable foe without a clear plan?

Xavier paused, lowering the wooden sword, and closed his eyes. He focused on his heartbeat, letting the sound of his breathing steady him. Whatever this sensation was, it would not control him.

I will not run. I will not lose.

Determination burned in his chest, igniting his spirit. You’ll see, Sir Adam. I’ll prove my worth. A faint, confident smile spread across his face as he gripped the sword tighter.

Before he could resume his training, a firm tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. Turning, he was greeted by a group of burly men, their muscled bodies glistening under the sun and their bald heads reflecting its rays like polished mirrors.

“You must be the ‘Young Gladiator,’ Klay Worthmore,” said one of the men, his voice deep and booming. “Name’s Lorian Fennwick, and these are my comrades.”

Xavier blinked, caught off guard, but quickly recovered. “Ah, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Lorian, and all of you! What brings you here?”

Lorian scratched his beard, his grin widening. “We saw you training alone and figured we’d test if the rumors about you are true. A little sparring match could help you prepare for your upcoming fight against that grim bastard.”

Xavier’s expression brightened. “A sparring match? With you? That sounds like a fantastic idea.”

Lorian chuckled. “That’s the spirit, lad! But don’t think we’ll go easy on you. Because we want you to be as strong as possible for your next fight".

As cheers erupted from the onlookers gathering around, Xavier scratched the back of his head, a little overwhelmed but smiling nonetheless. “Alright, let’s do this!”

From a balcony overlooking the training grounds, Anastasia and Alcmena observed the unfolding scene. Anastasia rested her chin on her hands, her emerald eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I wonder how Young Master’s training is going. Do you think he’s feeling nervous about facing the Grim Reaper of the Abyss?”

Alcmena, lounging lazily with his arms crossed, smirked. “Nervous? That boy has the spirit of a dragon. He’s probably thrilled at the challenge. If he falters, I’ll make sure he’s ready to crush that so-called Grim Reaper myself.”

Anastasia chuckled. “I’m sure he’s glad to have your faith, Lord Alcmena. But look down there. It seems he’s found himself a match.”

The two leaned forward, watching as Xavier squared off against Lorian. Onlookers whispered among themselves, the air buzzing with anticipation.

“Hey, bro, is it true?” one man asked his friend. “Lorian Fennwick’s challenging the Young Gladiator?”

“Yeah,” the friend replied. “This is gonna be epic.”

Back on the ground, Xavier gripped his wooden sword tightly. Across from him, Lorian cracked his knuckles, his grin now a challenge. The tension between them was palpable.

Sir Lorian offered a reassuring smile as he addressed Xavier. "You have nothing to worry about, young Gladiator. This is merely a friendly spar—nothing too serious or personal."

Xavier removed the Visors of Time from his face, the delicate artifact gleaming briefly in the sunlight. With his eyes still shut, he reached for the white-fang tiger mask resting at his side. As he secured it over his face, the intricate design of the mask caught the light, giving it an almost ethereal quality.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "If that's true, then why does it feel like every pair of eyes in this place is glued to us?"

Sir Lorian chuckled softly, as he said. "They're curious, that's all. Most of them have only heard the rumors about you. Few have actually seen you in action."

Xavier’s smile widened, though his tone remained playful. "Well, when you put it like that, I suppose I can't blame them. Curiosity has a way of drawing a crowd."

The air grew still as Xavier assumed his stance, gripping the wooden practice sword with both hands. His radiant blue eyes glowed faintly behind the mask's slitted eyeholes, a vivid contrast against the stark white of the mask. He moved with a quiet precision, his posture firm but fluid, every inch of him radiating focus. Facing him, Sir Lorian exuded a calm confidence, his towering, muscular frame like that of a seasoned predator sizing up its prey.

The arena fell silent, save for the distant rustle of leaves and the soft murmur of spectators. The energy in the air was palpable, a mix of anticipation and unspoken respect. Xavier’s heart quickened slightly, not from fear but from the thrill of the moment. This was no ordinary spar. Even if it was framed as friendly, he knew the importance of what lay ahead. It was a chance to prove himself, not just to Sir Lorian, but to everyone watching. And perhaps, a reminder to himself of what he was truly capable of.

The duel began with a clash of wood and muscle. Lorian’s strikes were powerful and relentless, each one testing Xavier’s reflexes and endurance. Xavier countered with agility and precision, using his smaller frame to his advantage, darting around Lorian’s heavier blows.

“Not bad, lad!” Lorian bellowed, landing a strike that sent Xavier skidding backward. “But can you keep up?”

Gritting his teeth, Xavier lunged forward, his wooden sword a blur. He aimed for Lorian’s exposed side, forcing the larger man to pivot and block. The crowd roared as the two combatants pushed each other to their limits.

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“Impressive,” Alcmena murmured, his eyes narrowing. “His sword skills have improved from the last time we trained. But he’ll need more than that to beat Adam.”

Anastasia’s gaze never left Xavier. “He’ll find a way,” she said softly. “He always does.”

With one final clash, Xavier locked weapons with Lorian's fists, their strength evenly matched. Sweat dripped from their brows as they stared each other down, neither willing to yield.

Sir Lorian’s mighty fist surged forward with the force of a battering ram, but Xavier responded swiftly, his wooden sword meeting the blow with a resounding crack. The impact unleashed a gust of wind that rippled through the air, and the ground beneath Xavier’s feet splintered under the sheer force.

“You’re faster than I imagined, young warrior,” Sir Lorian said with a grin, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and respect.

Xavier smirked faintly, wiping sweat from his brow. “Your punches sure pack a punch, huh?”

Sir Lorian chuckled, flexing his massive hands. “That’s not all I have to offer.” Without warning, he launched another punch. Xavier deflected it, countering with a precise slice toward Sir Lorian’s side. The wooden sword grazed his iron-like frame but left only a shallow cut.

Sir Lorian retaliated with a high kick, forcing Xavier to spin out of harm’s way. Xavier moved like a predator, his eyes sharp and focused as he unleashed a barrage of swift, calculated slashes. The strikes came so rapidly they blurred into afterimages, creating an illusion of omnipresent blades.

“Multi-directional Echo,” Xavier murmured, his voice low and steady.

Sir Lorian’s thick skin bore the brunt of the assault, each strike stinging like a sharp breeze. Yet he remained unfazed. As Xavier lunged forward for a decisive stab, Sir Lorian’s hand shot out with lightning speed. His grip shattered the wooden sword into fragments, leaving Xavier stunned.

Before Xavier could react, Sir Lorian’s enormous hand enveloped his face and chest. With brutal force, he launched Xavier into a nearby wall, the collision sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone.

“Those cuts of yours sting like paper cuts,” Sir Lorian quipped, his body now lightly marked with shallow wounds.

From the settling dust, Xavier emerged, his movements shaky but determined. His mind raced.

Great. My sword’s gone. Now it’s just me against this powerhouse. If only I could use RealmHeart without raising suspicion of being affiliated with a dragon…

With how frail my body is compared to kids my age when it comes to physical prowess, Realmheart helps me overcome that problem. The way Realmheart works is nothing short of miraculous; it physically alters the user's body to that of a dragon depending on the stage being used. Or rather, in my case, it aligns me with the strength of my master.

He exhaled deeply, calming his thoughts. Whining won’t solve anything. This might be just the kind of challenge I need—to find a way around my weakness.

Fixing his mask, Xavier’s eyes began to glow faintly as he activated his Aura. Ethereal energy coursed through him, bolstering his frail frame. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do.

Sir Lorian’s grin widened as he activated his own Aura, the atmosphere around them growing electric. In a heartbeat, they clashed again, their blows creating shockwaves that reverberated through the arena. Each strike from Sir Lorian was like a thunderclap, while Xavier’s counters were precise, aimed to exploit any vulnerability.

“You’re not exactly built for this kind of fight, are you?” Sir Lorian observed, his tone lighthearted despite his relentless attacks.

Xavier dodged another swing, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not exactly a mountain of muscle like you.”

Sir Lorian laughed, his voice booming. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

“To your left,” Xavier taunted, drawing Sir Lorian’s attention. The moment Sir Lorian glanced sideways, Xavier struck with a sharp jab to the leg, destabilizing him. Following up with a punch to the face, Xavier pushed him back by an inch—a small but satisfying victory.

“Not bad,” Sir Lorian admitted, wiping a trail of blood from his nose. With a grin, he delivered an uppercut that sent Xavier airborne. Catching Xavier’s leg mid-flight, Sir Lorian slammed him into the ground with enough force to send cracks sprawling outward.

Xavier groaned, rolling away just in time to avoid a crushing stomp. Ignoring the pain, he kicked out at Sir Lorian’s supporting leg, causing the giant to stumble. Seizing the moment, Xavier delivered a sharp kick to Sir Lorian’s jaw before flipping back to create distance.

Relocating his jaw with a crack, Sir Lorian chuckled. “You’re something else, Klay Worthmore. But I’m done holding back. Quit now, or I won’t pull my punches.”

Xavier’s faint smirk returned. “I’m not done yet.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sir Lorian said, his grin returning as they squared off once more.

Xavier’s mind worked furiously. I need a decisive blow, but how? His eyes flicked to the faint bloodstain on Sir Lorian’s side, and a plan began to form. There’s my chance.

Sir Lorian stomped, sending debris flying as he unleashed his special ability, ‘PowerFist.’ A punch roared through the air with the force of a freight train. Xavier barely dodged, the shockwave alone sending him sprawling. Blood dripped from his mouth as he stood, his body trembling from the strain.

What insane strength, he thought, wiping his face.

Sir Lorian’s barrage continued, each blow reshaping the battlefield. Xavier darted and weaved, refusing to engage directly. Confused, Sir Lorian growled, “What are you up to, Klay Worthmore?”

Focusing on his target, Xavier dashed forward, feinting to the left before spinning to the right. Sir Lorian swung but missed, leaving his side exposed. Xavier redirected all his momentum into his fist, striking the wounded abdomen with pinpoint accuracy.

Sir Lorian staggered, his breath hitching as pain lanced through his body. Xavier followed up with a feint, stopping a punch mere inches from Sir Lorian’s face.

“Shall we call it a draw?” Xavier asked, his grin tinged with exhaustion.

Sir Lorian laughed heartily as he sank to his knees. “You win this one, young warrior.”

Cheers erupted from the onlookers, their disbelief evident as they witnessed the young warrior they had underestimated, triumph over the giant. Xavier offered Sir Lorian a hand, helping him to his feet.

“That was a great spar,” Xavier said earnestly. “I hope we can do it again someday.”

Sir Lorian grinned, clapping Xavier on the back. “Someday indeed. And you’d better bring that same spirit to your fight with that Grim Reaper of the Abyss. He’s no ordinary man.”

Xavier chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

As they left, Xavier stood there thinking with a faint smile. "Adam Durandal," he murmured to himself. "I just wonder how he knows so much about me. And how he knows of my parents."

Staring into the sky, his thoughts drifted. "What did he say their names were... right, Andrew and Julia Laurent. I wonder what kind of people they were, and if they ever thought of me to this day."

His reverie was interrupted as he sensed his master's presence from afar. Turning around, he spotted them—his master and Anastasia—approaching from a distance.

Xavier waved enthusiastically, shouting, "Did you guys see my fight?!"

Anastasia waved back, her voice ringing with joy. "Yes, we did, Young Master! And you did great!"

Alcmena, who rested calmly on her shoulder, smiled with pride but fell into deep thought.

"You indeed did well, Xavier," Alcmena mused silently. "And I hope you keep growing this fast. Because the challenges and foes that await you... the fate that lies ahead is not something I desire for you to endure. By all means, I will ensure you overcome them, no matter the consequences of my actions."

As Alcmena gazed into Xavier's eyes, Alcmena's eyes reflected an indescribable mix of emotions. Seeing Xavier happy and smiling brought him a fleeting sense of peace. But then, Alcmena’s expression shifted as he noticed something. A shadowy silhouette appeared behind Xavier.

With its back to Alcmena, the figure stood motionless. Alcmena couldn’t discern who or what it was. Was it merely a hallucination?

The man’s long, golden hair waved in the air, and his body was clad in battle armor. Alcmena’s mind raced. Who could this be? Yet something about the figure’s smile—a faint, knowing grin—caught Alcmena’s attention. It felt eerily familiar even though he couldn't fully see the figure's face.

"Xavier?" Alcmena thought, utterly speechless.

Just as suddenly as the silhouette appeared, it vanished. Noon arrived, and the sun’s rays bathed Xavier in light where he stood, still waving joyfully at Alcmena and Anastasia.