"The second option. I focus on expanding your theory and guide you through movements. This will include very light sparring. As you improve over the months, we gradually shift to the first option. Either choice you make will not impact my opinion of you. With your time chamber, we have more leeway for time. So, what is your choice? "
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|DxD|- Chapter 33- Growth
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The same stance. The same position. The same opponent. Only the circumstances had changed. Igor stood poised at the ready with his spear. Baraquiel stood opposite him, separated only by a dozen metres of grass blowing in the breeze.
Igor's mind was going through cartwheels of thoughts. Minutes ago, his back was driven into the ground along with his confidence. The taste of dirt and sweat still lingered on his tongue alongside the fading pain.
Baraquiel had given him a choice. He made it. Perhaps it was stupid of him. The old man hit like a rock. Even with vitality reinforcing his body, it still didn't weaken the impact. And here he was, asking for a second round. Maybe he really was stupid.
"I'm ready, old man."
He forced his hands to stop trembling. A bit of pain now would keep him alive in the future. So he shouldn't be scared of it. Baraquiel wouldn't kill…would he? He wasn't sure anymore. If he got anything like that knee to the liver again, Igor believed he might just kill himself instead.
"Alright, boy. Come at me with everything you have."
"Mm!"
Vitality whined to life around him. He sank low and recalled his training of 'explosive movement'. He dumped a clump of energy beneath his heels and exploded it outward.
*Pa!*
The air snapped amidst the shrapnel of dirt and rocks. Loose sand and torn blades of grass were dragged by the wind to fill the vacuum he left behind.
A pair of gold eyes took everything in detail. He could see the fine hairs on Baraquiel's coat in great detail. Mid-stride, Igor poised his spear. He had absolutely no qualms in stabbing forward.
"Hng!"
Reinforced by vitality, his spear tunnelled through the air. Under the guidance of his hands, it headed for Baraquiel's neck. Igor dared not think it would be easy. Time slowed down. Even with the tip inching closer and closer, Igor flooded his senses out of caution.
The blade touched Baraquiel's Adam's apple and ruptured through it. Igor cleanly felt the lacking resistance of muscle and bone. Blood spurted out and he almost, almost, fell into crippling shock.
A tingling sensation spread through his lower back. It was as if a fork was being dragged over his skin. Igor dared not doubt the feeling and jumped upwards into the skies.
*Boom!*
The ground fractured and caved under the explosive force of vitality. Right where Igor stood, a 'new' Baraquiel suddenly appeared with his arm clawing empty air. He looked upwards with an approving glint.
Dozens of metres above, Igor died a little bit when he met those violet eyes. His stomach did somersaults when he realised just how close he was to having his neck caged by those iron fingers.
The 'Baraquiel' he stabbed was nowhere to be seen. An illusion? He didn't know how nor did he have time for thoughts. He reinforced his spear with energy and prepared to throw it down.
"Hnnghaaa!"
His arm whipped forward, twisting in levels that defied anatomy. The air snapped once more the moment he threw it. Wind visibly arced around the tip and formed a trailing wake.
The trail had barely just formed when the spear penetrated deep into where Baraquiel once stood. It sunk into the ground like a stick in quicksand.
Igor landed moments later. The ground cracked beneath his feet. Large chunks of loose rock lined the small crater he stood on. He bent down in an attempt to pull out his spear. Almost the entire length had sunk in.
He was alert. Baraquiel had vanished using some obscure magic. The old man could be invisible for all he knew. But as long as he trusted his instincts, he'd know.
"!!"
Igor acted immediately. A curved sword flashed into his left hand. He slashed behind him with the intent to disembowel.
Baraquiel dodged the swing of the blade. It was unexpected that Igor could summon weapons. Were they from the time chamber? The boy's newly-summoned dagger wouldn't wait for him to figure out the 'how'.
In his right hand, Igor held an iron dagger in a tight grip. He thrust his hand upward with the intent to pierce it through the soft skin underneath Baraquiel's chin.
A rough grasp derailed those plans and sent his arm off-course. Igor was left wide open. His right hand was held firmly by Baraquiel. He was hoisted upwards like a pendulum, depriving him of the solid ground he needed to exert powerful force.
His left arm was flailed wide from the previous missed slash. The curved sword was completely useless given how exposed he was. A hard fist was coming in hot for his gut. He wouldn't be able to block it in time, not effectively.
*Crack!*
Knuckles smashed against kneecaps. Igor had tucked in his legs to protect his stomach. The force swung his body at an incline like a pushed swing. His entire right arm twisted painfully. Under Baraquiel's solid grip by the wrist, it bent near to dislocating.
He grit his teeth and brought his left hand forward. He pointed his palm at Baraquiel's head and gathered his energy. He dared not blink away the salty sweat creeping into his eyes.
There was no scream. No fanfare. No cinematics. Vitality poured out of his palm like a clogged pipe relieved of a blockage.
A torrential golden shower of energy blasted Baraquiel's head into fragments, incinerating the blood and gore that would stain the ground.
Igor cut off the flow. From shoulder to shoulder, it was a straight road with only a sickening pothole where the head once stood tall.
Igor felt his heart lurch in his throat when he saw the scene, but he quickly realised something. There was still a sense of danger! Was it another illusion?
"You win, Igor."
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|DxD|
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The dark wood of the spruce tree became Igor's back rest after the spar he had. The damp grass beneath his butt was his hard-earned rest after the short sparring session where once again, he was reminded of the gap between him and the strong.
He forced his limp head to roll to the other shoulder. Baraquiel was using magic to return the damaged field to its previous lushness. With each pulse of magic he sensed, Igor once again had to recognise Baraquiel's prowess.
[He's not even winded.]
His hand faintly massaged his sides. Baraquiel's hits felt like wrecking balls. Vitality and time had done much to numb the pain. As grand and impressive his latest showing might've been, he couldn't get ahead of himself.
"You have some good instincts, boy. Not everyone can notice the shift between reality and illusion."
The smell of steel and rubber filtered through his nose. Baraquiel stood tall with his hand against the tree. His eyes held approval, but Igor felt otherwise.
"It means nothing if I die easily."
What kamehameha? What blowing up moons? His fantasies were shattered on day one. In the real world, he was still very small.
"..."
For a moment, Baraquiel paused, then sighed. He leaned his back against the tree and folded his arms. Far into the distance lay their home. The man and boy, one standing and the other seated, let this period of silence pass until Baraquiel posed a question.
"How old are you, Igor?"
It was a rhetorical question. In the supernatural world, it was extremely difficult to find an eleven year old who could compete with veterans of Low Class. He wanted to use this opportunity to give Igor a boost of—
"Forty seven…"
Igor spoke quietly, but it was enough to stun Baraquiel into relative silence. Millennia of composure kept him calm.
He was absolutely sure that Igor was a child. It was not suspicion. He personally verified it. Be it his soul or body, neither were rich enough to justify four decades of life.
"No, Igor. You are not that old."
Baraquiel quickly thought of the reason why Igor said his words. The supernatural world was not rare on stasis methods. And given what he knew of the boy, it is very possible he was meant to be hidden for decades. Slowing or even halting his ageing and development were not inconceivable notions.
"You may have been born in that era, but you are eleven years old."
Igor tried to argue, but Baraquiel cut him off.
"Listen to me, boy."
Violet eyes met blue.
"You are a child. I do not say it to comfort you. I say it because it is factual. And the fact of the matter is, you are very strong for your age. Accept that compliment or I will throw you across that field if you keep acting this way."
"..."
Igor fought to restrain his smile. He definitely wasn't happy. Only babies would be affected by meaningless praise.
"...hmph…"
He looked away towards the curtain of trees surrounding the field. A troop of monkeys watched them from the branches with curiosity. He thought the view would help. It didn't.
Despite his persistent efforts, his cheeks still burned. There were bubbles in his chest that he couldn't suppress.
"Oh? So even you can get embarrassed."
A heavy hand fell on his head. Igor tried to swat it away, but it was as steady as a pillar.
"I'm not embarrassed!"
He retorted sheepishly. When he realised his efforts were futile, Igor crossed his arms. Let the old man bully him. He'd give him a good beating once he grew up. Though…
*Scratch* *Scratch* *Scratch*
…it did feel very nice having his head scratched. Baraquiel's fingers had just the right roughness needed to dig into his scalp. But he definitely wouldn't say it out loud.
*Camera Snap*
"?"
Igor looked up in confusion when he sensed the sudden flash of mana. A strange blocky device was hovering midair. It made some sort of whirring sound before spitting out a small paper from a slit.
The strange device remained in midair while the paper floated into Baraquiel's outstretched hand. Igor craned his neck to see what it was and when he did, he almost died.
Grass was shredded beneath his shifting legs and twisting heels. His hand shot up, ready to tear that damnable paper from existence.
Baraquiel held the frantic Igor down. The boy's struggles were fruitless under his powerful hold. He held the picture up high, admiring the quality.
"Hehehe."
Baraquiel found himself chuckling. Forget 47 years. Even if Igor turned 147, he would flash this image to him, especially the next one he took. That look of panic would be cemented in history.
*Camera Snap*
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AN: Quite warming honestly. I'm still coming to terms that Igor was born in 1949. No wonder Igor's so obsessed with looking old. Still, it means nothing if he was asleep for most of those decades.
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Chapter 33
END