Aurafall: Fragments Of Power-Chapter 52: Thirty Minutes Spar

After the brief conversation with Fang Rui, Leo retreated back to the room where Taren was anxiously waiting for him to come back.

"Leo. How are you? Is the sickness gone? What’s wrong? Why’s your shoulder so slumped? Talk to me, Leo. Talk to me."

Leo rolled his eyes and slumped on his bed. "I’m fine, Taren. In fact, I’m feeling better."

Taren’s questions were getting to be too much, so he decided to tell him that to calm him down. He couldn’t blame him, though. Taren had been taking care of him right from when Jean rescued him as an infant from the Shadow Assassin.

He didn’t lie, though. He was feeling better after the discussion. Maybe he was just anxious about his loved ones’ whereabouts, and after finding out they were safe, he felt a bit relieved.

Taren slumped on the bed beside him and sighed with relief. "I’m glad."

Leo turned his face to him and grinned. As soon as Taren saw his friend’s expression, he frowned.

"NO!" he yelled to Leo’s face and stood up.

"What? You didn’t even know what I wanted to say?" Leo retorted, standing up in return.

"And I’m not interested in knowing."

"Argh. What is it, crazy pants?"

Leo’s grin widened.

"How? How... did it end up like this?" Taren muttered as he gripped the handle of a wooden training sword.

Turns out the ship was specifically built for Aura Farmers and there was a dojo built into it. Currently, the dojo was empty with only Taren and Leo occupying it and a few training materials.

The dojo hall was a large, rectangular room at the center of the ship, lined with thick, padded mats that smelled of old sweat and cleaning oil. It was built with a heavy hydraulic system underneath to keep the floor level, but it wasn’t working perfectly. Every time the ship hit a large swell, the entire room groaned and tilted, forcing anyone inside to constantly shift their weight.

Leo stood at one end, looking far more composed than Taren. He wasn’t pale, and he wasn’t sweating before the fight had even begun. He held a standard wooden training sword with two hands, his grip firm and his feet shoulder width apart.

"You’re sure about this?" Taren asked, adjusting his stance. "You know I’m a better fighter."

Leo gripped his own wooden sword. It felt awkward in his hand compared to the memory of the red sparks from the night before. "Just shut up and swing, Taren. I need to get my blood moving."

Taren didn’t wait. He stepped forward with a quick, practiced motion and swung horizontally. Leo barely brought his sword up in time to block. The impact sent a jolt through his arms that made his stomach flip again.

"Your guard is loose," Taren said, pulling back and immediately lunging for Leo’s midsection.

Leo twisted his body to the side, the wooden tip of Taren’s blade grazing his tunic. He tried to counter with a downward strike, but Taren was already gone, stepping back with a fluid motion that made Leo look like he was moving through mud.

"You’re too slow, Leo. Even without the seasickness, your form is all over the place," Taren critiqued. He wasn’t being mean; he was just stating a fact. Taren had spent years training as a Banished soldier, while Leo had spent most of his time also training but not at nearly the rate of Taren’s.

Leo spat on the mat and wiped his mouth. "I’m just warming up."

They clashed again. This time, Taren went on the offensive, delivering a series of rapid strikes, overhead, left, right, then a low sweep. Leo was forced into a desperate retreat, his wooden sword clattering against Taren’s in a frantic rhythm.

Taren’s sword caught Leo in the ribs, sending him stumbling back. Leo gasped for air, his vision blurring for a second.

"Focus, Leo!" Taren shouted. He came in again, but this time Leo didn’t try to match his strength. As Taren swung for his head, Leo dropped to one knee, letting the sword whistle over him, and tried to jab Taren in the stomach.

Taren simply hopped back, easily avoiding the move. "Better. But predictable."

The spar continued for thirty minutes. Leo was drenched in sweat, his lungs burning. He managed to land a few hits on Taren’s arms and shoulders, but for every hit he landed, Taren landed three. Taren was simply the better martial artist. He knew how to use the momentum of the ship, how to breathe through the exertion, and how to spot a telegraph in Leo’s movements before Leo even made them.

Eventually, the two of them stood panting, facing each other in the center of the room. Leo’s legs were shaking, and his seasickness had been replaced by the raw ache of exhaustion.

"You’re getting better," Taren admitted, lowering his sword. "Your reflexes are faster than they were a month ago. That Aura rank increase is doing something, even if your technique is still messy."

Leo leaned on his wooden sword like a cane. "I just need... to get used to the weight."

"You need to get used to the world not being a straight line," Taren corrected. He walked over to a rack and put his sword away. "Come on. Let’s go find some food before the kitchen closes. You need protein if you’re going to keep up this pace."

Leo looked down at his hands. They were blistered and red.

"...He was a Capricorn, he had a Sagittarius weapon, and he had survived things most people couldn’t imagine, but here, on a wooden floor with a childhood friend, he was just a boy who had a lot to learn..."

"Hey, Taren?" Leo called out as they walked toward the door.

"Yeah?"

"Next time, I’m not going to be the one on the floor."

Taren laughed, throwing an arm over Leo’s shoulder. "I’ll believe it when I see it, Leo. Now let’s go. I’m starving."

They left the hall, the sounds of their footsteps echoing against the brown wood as the ship continued its long, steady trek toward the horizon.