My world-tree system

Captain Köflik remained motionless, his blade raised with calculated nonchalance. Foster, on the other hand, was already on guard, every muscle in his body taut.

- Start,' said Köflik flatly, his piercing gaze riveted on Foster.

Foster didn't wait another second. He leapt, his blade coming down in a swift, precise arc. Köflik, without moving a centimetre, raised his blade to parry. The impact echoed through the air, but Köflik didn't flinch.

Foster stepped back and immediately followed up with a lateral strike. Then another, diagonally. And another. The blows rained down, fast and varied. Each strike seemed more convincing than the last, trying to force an opening in the captain's implacable defence.

But Köflik didn't move. His feet remained anchored to the ground, his posture as solid as the roots of an oak tree. His blade moved with surgical precision, deflecting Foster's every attack with an almost insulting economy of movement.

Foster gritted his teeth. His blows redoubled in intensity, his blade whistling through the air. He aimed for the flanks, the legs, tried feints, but nothing got through.

- Fifty blows... Maybe more,' thought Foster, 'and he didn't move a step.'

The captain was stoic and didn't even seem to be sweating.

Foster stopped for a moment, panting. His shoulders were heavy, his movements less fluid. Yet his mind was still racing. He stared at the captain, looking for a weak spot. But Köflik remained unshakeable, a living statue whose mere presence was enough to crush the confidence of any opponent.

- He's like a mountain. Every blow I land is like a wind crashing against its walls. But even mountains erode.'

Gathering his strength, Foster modified his approach. He began a series of more subtle strikes, testing the captain's reflexes. He tried to quicken the pace, to introduce unpredictable variations. But even then, Köflik parried everything with disconcerting ease.

For every blow he attempted, Köflik's blade was already there, as if it had guessed Foster's intentions before he even moved.

Foster knew he didn't have much strength left. He tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the heat of his own sweat trickling down his temples.

- This is no time to think!

Foster rushed towards Captain Köflik, leapt into the air and backhanded him with all his might. 

Köflik deflected Foster's blade and, with a movement of superhuman speed, sent a riposte. The strike, a backhand of terrifying precision, crashed into Foster's left flank. The pain exploded through his body like a bolt of lightning, cutting off his breathing. He was thrown backwards, his back hitting the ground with force.

His sword slipped from his grasp, sliding out of reach. Pain radiated from his ribs, and every breath was agony. Foster coughed, a trickle of blood escaping his lips.

- Shit, that one hurt. he spat.

Köflik remained motionless, his aura hanging over the entire arena. He didn't move to attack more, but the pressure he was exerting was relentless, almost unbearable. Foster felt his mind waver under the invisible weight, as if the whole world was collapsing in on him.

And then, in the depths of his being, everything shifted.

Total silence.

In that state of pain and crushing pressure, something inside him gave way. Not defeat, but liberation. He was no longer Foster, the apprentice, the elf who carried the weight of his past and his future. He was empty.

Into this void, a light appears. A faint, flickering light, floating in an infinite, dark space. Foster didn't know where he was, but he wasn't afraid.

He watched the light, hypnotised, and a simple but absolute truth dawned on him:

The sword is not a weapon. It is a will. A bridge between the spirit and the world. And this will, to be sharp, must be pure, unfettered.

Around him, images floated. Memories, doubts, fears that he had carried all his life. The massacre of his people, his flight, his failures... All of this seemed to weigh him down, to stand in the way of this light.

And yet he watched them unravel, disintegrating like shadows in the bright sunlight.

In that moment, he found a clarity he had never known. His mind became limpid, like a still lake under a full moon.

His fingers closed around the hilt of his sword. When he opened his eyes, he was back in the arena, lying on the ground, the pain still present but distant, almost secondary.

He slowly got to his feet, ignoring his body's protests. When he stood up again, something had changed. His breathing was calm, his gaze unwavering.

He grabbed his sword, lifted it and looked at it. It looked different. Not in appearance, but in its nature. He could almost feel its edge, a latent power that vibrated in unison with his own spirit.

Foster took one step towards Köflik. Then another. Each movement was precise, calculated, but also strangely natural, as if a new force were guiding his body.

He struck, a simple, direct blow. Yet the power it contained was completely different.

Köflik, still motionless, deployed his aura to the full power of a rank 3 knight.

The air around him seemed to vibrate, charged with an invisible but overwhelming power. It was as if an intangible barrier stood between him and Foster's sword.

The blow crashed against this barrier, producing a visible shockwave, and although it caused no damage, Foster knew that it was a strike unlike any other so far.

[*Ding*: Quest 2.3 completed]

[Accepting the reward]

Foster suddenly collapsed without time to celebrate the success of the quest. His body, drained of all energy, could hold no more. His knees hit the ground and his sword slipped from his trembling hands again.

Köflik, still standing, slowly lowered his aura. The heavy atmosphere dissipated, giving way to absolute silence.

Foster, short of breath, looked up at his opponent, ignoring the system.

Köflik sheathed his sword, his eyes fixed on Foster.

- Impressive boy, you're hired, tomorrow at dawn in my barracks. he whispered, loud enough for Foster to hear despite his condition.

Foster let a faint smile stretch his lips. Then, unable to hold on any longer, he collapsed completely to the ground, sinking into unconsciousness.

On the other side, Yänn sighed:

- Fucking Foster, will you stop fainting every time...

[Current host status]

[Race] : Lower Elf

[Apprentice knight of rank 0] 

[Apprentice Magician of rank 1]

[Level 2 : 5/20

[Strength] : 4

[Stamina] : 9

[Constitution] : 4

[Magic] : 15

[Available Skill Points] : 0

[Skills : Fireball, Tempestive Fulgurance, Multiple shots

[Skills] : Beginner fencing skill

[Quest 1: Cast 25 Spells: 18/25]

[Reward: Beginning Magic Talent]

[Quest 2.3: Cut Steel: 1/1]

[Reward: Intermediate Fencing Skill]

[Quest 3: Go to Fotiya and find the World Tree Seed]

[Reward: ???????]