Re: Elf Prince—A Degenerate’s Second Chance

39. The End Of The Duel

With the power of the fire seeking eye it was easier to make out what was living and what was not, the rest would depend on his reaction speed. Eryndor's eyes scanned around to find something that was there but wasn't there, it was evident that he was on the losing end. From the corner of his eye he saw a red streak coming at him, he jumped out of the way on instinct and charged at the streak from the side.

Thalvarin sprinted forward to land a decisive blow only to have his student jump out of the way before he reached him. It was like he knew just where he would come from which would be strange for someone at his level.

Unknown to Thalvarin, Eryndor's fire seeking eye could see the trail of hea before it reached him. When he had first gotten the relic Eryndor laughed at it for being useless but now he realised he had been greatly mistaken, it really lived up to its rank. With the eye Eryndor would be able to predict to moves of his opponent and anticipate his counter. The only problem was that he had not fully gotten used to it's reaction time yet leading him to react a bit to hastily.

Eryndor knew that if he could just time his ability just right he would be able to plan the perfect counter attack. He swung his wooden sword at his uncle with his one good arm, coating it in a blanket if red.

Thalvarin parried the blow with his own wooden sword, hot vapour eruoted from the clash. "You are going to have to put in some effort boy."

Eryndor panicked as he saw his uncle's wooden sword coming at him from the other side. Thoughts started to bitz through his mind at a quick speed. "Shit! How did he did a full 360 to my side, he's too fast. It hasn't even been a minute yet."

Eryndor only had one choice, he relied on his magic and summoned small funnels of wind to wrap around his legs. He kicked back and felt his body shoot backward with great propulsion and the lightness of a feather, missing the wooden sword by an inch.

The moment his feet touched the ground Thalvarin was already upon him, it was like the distance between them never existed. Eryndor panicked again and used the same move twice, this time I put more distance between us and realised my mistake.

The best approach would be to attack him directly but Eryndor knew he lacked the skill to but what other choice did he have. The moment he got his footing he charged forward and played out the first step of the moon style sword technique "Rising Moon". He reached his uncle and made an upward cut with his wooden sword, again Thalvarin parried the blow but Eryndor was far from through.

Eryndor adjusted his footwork and went back to the basic techniques and used wind magic to make his attacks faster and faster. Truthfully he could hardly he was moving so fast but seeing his uncle block his attack so effortlessly was infuriating. At the last moment he switched back into the moon style sword technique and repeated the last attack which Thalvarin blocked again. This time Eryndor took a different approach and activated his newly perfected technique.

Only catching a glimpse the wooden swords mana veins he over charged it up with both his flame and wind magic, the collision caused a magic blade of crimson and wind to materialize and fly in his uncles face. The attack was so quick they Thalvarin had no time to react to it, a second later the air between them ruptured from a massive explosion.

Billows of smoke threatened to block Eryndor's view as the heat of his attack scorched his skin despite the body tempering art. Eryndor did not stop to think his attack was a success he lunged forward and slashed for where he believed his uncle's neck to be. Using the power of his right eye to its full potential he made his mark.

A loud sound cracked the air as Thalvarin blocked his attack at the last second with a speed that was impossible to comprehend. Eryndor could not hide his surprise, he was faced with a problem. To retreat or to charge forward, his body was already nearing it's peak so no need to draw back now.

He gritted his teeth and lunged again with all the force he could muster. He slashed diagonalization at the side of Thalvarin which was open at the moment. He believed that if he could make a fatal blow there he could restrict his uncle's movement at least, at best injured him.

As his wooden sword closed in on his uncle's side it was in that moment he realised he had been pulled into a trap. It was too late for him to react just as Thalvarin grabbed his had by the wrist stopping his momentum with ease, the next second Eryndor recieved a knee to the fact. The impact shattering his nose and sending him tumbling backwards.

He gave a loud screamed as he rolled on the bed it white snow leaving a trail of red blood behind. He came to a stop seconds later and clutched tight to his nose, a pained scream escaped his lungs as he coughed out blood from his lungs. Thick streams of red leaked out from his nose as his vision blurred.

There was too much blood rushing to his head to make him think clearly. In a fit of rage he screamed out in agony.

"What the hell man, I thought this was a sword fight. You cheated. Have you no honour?"

Thalvarin smirked and responded. "Do you think a fight will always be fair? You have not done anything to earn my honour, besides no one complained when you were throwing magic attacks Now get up and fight."

Who was he to think he could win, even his special attack had done nothing to the cinder king. Eryndor pushed himself to his feet with great difficulty, he wiped the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand but it still continued to flow. He assessed his situation which he found to be quite pathetic, he was brutally injured, his left arm was broken, his nose was also broken and his head was ringing.

He still had a considerable amount of mana left he weighed his options as he made his last attempt at victory. Eryndor knew that his chances to overpower his uncle with the use of flame magic was low so he opted to use wind magic. He conjured up funnels of wind around his legs and shot himself forward like an arrow. He chose to rely of his speed to put an end to the battle in an instant.

The moment he closed in on the cinder king he had his back to the ground and his chest throbbing with pain. His sword has been disarmed from his hand and he was reeling in a world of pain. Till the bitter end Eryndor had been oblivious to how he had been defeated.