Michael's face slammed into the ground.
She waited for him to get up.
He reached for his sword and rose. He faced towards her, locking his guard to start again.
Mave dashed towards him. She raised her sword, ready to swing and transition into another combination of attacks.
Michael moved, adjusting himself to the distance of her sword. It was pointless to parry against her swings just experiencing the weight behind them. If there was a contest of strength, she would always win. He swung his sword across her, just deflecting her blows away from his body.
She dragged her sword low and swung upward, aiming to break his posture.
He weaved aside just barely dodging her sword. He saw her eyes widen. He saw her arms move again just as he did the same. It didn't matter how hard she swung anymore, he just had to keep moving.
The idea was never to win or best Mave in her own fight. Michael just had to stay standing long enough for her to be satisfied.
Mave kept swinging. Even if she intended to back Michael against a fence wall, he would quickly maneuver around and create more space for himself. She was supposed to be in control of all their fights but it's been feeling different each day that passes.
It almost felt as if Michael had some leverage in their fight. She didn't like that feeling.
Michael would bet for a counter just to be quickly parried and followed by another swing. He would turn his sword again and direct the attack away from himself. He even thought she looked annoyed. Their fights were supposed to end early yet he's still standing against her like an equal.
She gritted her teeth and raised her sword, trying to end the fight in one swing.
He weaved aside the swing, just inches away from his ear, though he didn't try to back away again. Michael thrusted his sword back, aiming to hit her in return. It felt so certain. Then she had swung her sword down so hard, it would have taken some time to pull back and parry his attack.
But she swung her sword again from the ground, too fast for him to react, and flung the wooden sword away from his hand. She drew her arm back and thrusted her sword across his face, spiraling him back to the ground.
Michael didn't move, laying still as if he had actually died.
"Get up, boy," she said. "Don't make me kick you again."
He grudgingly slouched over. For the first time, he didn't want to fight anymore.
Mave turned away, noticing his dejected face. "Clean yourself up."
Michael figured he didn't shower ever since they started training. He must have smelled horrible. He wiped the grainy and dried blood from his mouth and walked back to the door.
It felt weird being in the house again after spending everyday on the outside. He turned to the living room and spotted his sword, the same spot where as he left. It was like meeting her again for the very first time.
When he grabbed Evelyn, he didn't touch her by the handle but only by the sheath. He already knew what she could be saying about how he looked.
Michael went into the bathroom downstairs and closed the door behind him. At first, he didn't know if he was actually looking at himself.
One eye was more swollen than the other and the scrapes across his face barely healed. He unbuttoned his shirt and thought it looked worse. Purple and red streaks were riddled all across his body. From the smacks of the wooden swords, Mave didn't even care how hard she was hitting him.
He felt the sword pulsating his hand. The sword glowed in response, even through the gaps of the sheath. He hesitated reaching for the handle knowing what type of temper she would release. The definition of training was to get better, not to come back like he just barely survived.
Michael had been losing time after time and could barely call it an effort that he got stronger.
But he wanted to hear her voice. He desperately wanted to hear her voice. All those hours spent sleeping on the hard dirt, he always thought about what she would tell him. The sword flashed in his hand the moment he wrapped his fingers around the hilt.
She felt the bruises on his face. "Did she do this to you?"
Michael felt her hand against his cheek. Her eyes were mixed between anger and sadness. He knew that she wouldn't be able to let this go either.
Evelyn turned away and tried to open the door.
"No," he stopped her, grabbing her arm. "Evelyn—"
"Why are you doing this," her voice broke. "It's because of me, right?"
Michael knew she was trying not to cry. "It doesn't hurt."
"Then what hurts you?"
He pulled her hand back to his face. "Not being able to protect you."
Evelyn caught him before he fell to the ground. It was like all the fatigue of training had taken its toll. Just looking at her again mustered enough energy for him to stay awake.
She kept his head steady. "Do you really like me that much?"
He slowly nodded, leaning against her hands. He couldn't explain how comfortable he felt. His eyes were barely opened yet he still saw her face. It was as if the pain had been sapped away the longer she was holding him.
Evelyn hugged him. "You're so stupid."
Michael's chest never felt so warm. Having her arms wrapped around him was another feeling he couldn't explain. He even thought her hair smelled nice.
"You stink."
He smiled. He loved everything about her. He loved how her face looked whenever she was worried. He loved how carefree she became when they were together. And he loves how she always had her eyes fixed on him. Michael didn't know what he's done to deserve something like this. But he would make sure, in every second of his life, that there wouldn't be anything to stand in between them.
For that reason, he had to get stronger no matter the cost.
The door opened down the hall of somebody entering the home. He could hear Mave's voice talking louder with another tone that Michael could easily recognize.
Stefan knocked hard on his door. "Hey, kid, are you in there, we're back. Did you miss me?"
Michael felt his nerves jumpstart again. "Yeah—yeah, I'm in here."
"Huh, you're still alive?"
He tried to figure out a response as Evelyn squirmed around, avoiding his hand.
"How long have you been in there, kid?"
"I'm bathing—" he grunted. "Just give me a second!"
"Alright, bathing…then once you're done, come outside real quick. We all need to talk to you."
Michael finally grabbed her hand, hearing her laugh before flashing back into a sword. He wondered if anyone else outside heard their minor rumble in the bathroom and thought of anything strange. He didn't know what Evelyn's obsession was with being caught.
He placed her on the far side of the room as he bathed. If there was a ghost that existed when Evelyn wasn't bonded, then she would have definitely seen him naked. He decided to not battle with that thought and prioritized being cleaned.
His body's been tossed and dragged through the ground for days, he was surprised he didn't smell himself first. The goal of becoming stronger must have shadowed over the thought of hygiene. Michael scrubbed his body and washed his hair, using the soap by the bath and made sure there wasn't any dirt patched around his body. The bruises wouldn't be healed quickly though, so he wanted them to be a reminder of his progress.
After he dried himself and wore new clothes, he slung his sword around his shoulder and walked back to the living room where they waited for him. Stefan and Ellis looked tired like they had been roughed up. Their armor looked nothing like what they wore the last time Michael had seen them. They must have been traveling about for their quest without Mave.
"What the hell happened to you?" Stefan asked. He must have seen how Michael's face was.
"I trained him," Mave said, without even feeling guilty. "What did you expect?"
"Did you train him or beat him, because he's not supposed to look like that."
"I trained him, you idiot, if you have any complaints then maybe you should take the matter for yourself."
"No, no complaints," he looked at Michael. "How about you, kid? No complaints?"
Michael shook his head. He already knew he was going to get hurt, just not as hard as Mave hit him.
Stefan unstrapped his armor. "We don't plan to keep you here forever. For the next few weeks, we'll be teaching you everything we can. I'll show you how to control your mana, Ellis can keep you educated about Wilmere, and I'm sure you're already familiar with Mave's job. Sounds good?"
Michael nodded.
"Alright, then it's final. Once you learn everything it means to become an adventurer, then you can join our party."
"So, you're okay with questing with only two people?" Mave pointed out. "Two of us set out while the other one plays house with the boy?"
"Not all the time," Stefan stretched. "I'm sure he can hold this place down by himself. We can train him with the time that we have free."
"My time isn't spent tutoring some boy—"
"Completing the quest isn't the issue," Ellis interrupted her. "We need another number in the party. If Michael can learn, then it would benefit us more. I'm sure he's not some kid looking to leech off our earnings, right? Look at how hard you beat him and he's not even bothered. If he wants to learn, then I say let him learn. He's probably better than anyone else we can find at the guild."
Mave was staring daggers through Michael. "Fine, but I'm not staying behind to teach him."
"Alright, Michael," Ellis nodded to him. "Don't let us down."