Farmer or Cultivator? Why not both?-Chapter 34: A friendly spar

"I see you are as strong as ever." Ren commented. The large man raised an eyebrow then leaned forward on his sword, he smirked, "Barely made a scratch. I knew you would be fine."

Prior to the meeting, the two had not met. Ren did not know anything about Jonan save that he had the name, he was large and he was dubbed the strongest man in Tunish, he did deserve that title Ren was sure.

"How did you two survive that magicker? Tuarine simply ignored me when I ask." He leaned forward, crossing his right leg over his left, and for the first time, Ren noticed that he wasn’t wearing impoverished sandals like most of Tunish did, but boots, leather boots, of quality comparable to his.

Ren had never noticed others wearing leather footwear, he had assumed the craft had nlt been found or it simply hadn’t reached them, never did he notice that Elizabeth only wore leather shoes, same as Erigald, and the magicker he briefly fought with. The realization stunned him briefly.

Then he heard the words, "Do you want to swing wooden swords? We could pretend to be knights of kingdoms at war."

"Oh yes." Frankly Ren had not really listened to the man’s words, he simply just agreed to whatsoever.

"Good. Do you want this or should I fetch a smaller one?" He raised his large wooden sword.

Ren’s eyes trailed the sword, ’How does he swing it? Does he not tire?’ Now Ren could swing the sword for hours without tiring, but he had his stats, and he could manipulate mana in which case could fortify his body and triple his strength, he was an exception. Jonan on the other hand was just a man.

Ren had not responded when Jonan answered for him, "Yes, this must be too large. Rolfheim!" He yelled, and a small boy stealthily appeared by the house’s door, crouching his back, and keeping his eyes on the ground. The boy appeared to be deliberately shrinking his frame, intending on appearing docile and not scary. A good look at the boy, and Ren could tell that the boy had to be Jonan’s son, or perhaps brother.

"Get one of the sparring swords." He commanded, and the boy backstepped into the house, disappearing into it. This Rolfheim boy came out in the open to hand over the blade, and at the sight of him being truly under the sun, Ren’s eyes widened. Ren had not seen a more beautiful woman. Rolfheim was indeed a woman and not a man as Ren previously thought, and she had been shy. She was tall and of a lean muscular frame, going as far as being even taller than Ren. She had blonde long hair like her brother but where Jonan’s face was hard and unassuming, hers was round and beautiful.

She went back to the door and seemingly disappeared into the house, although the door was left open.

’She is watching.’ He could not tell whether she was peeking from the window or by the door, but he was certain. He had to look his best.

Jonan handed him the sparring swords, and before Ren knew it, he was a part of a fight he did not really want.

There was no signal, no cry made to tell the battle had begun. Jonan only waited for a few seconds upon throwing the sword to Ren’s hands before dashing at him.

There was a reason that Jonan had survived that confrontation.

Jonan was fast as he was strong. He closed the small gap between him and Ren so quickly, swinging his hunky sword at Ren’s flank. Ren could parry the strike, even without Mana reinforcement, but the sword would not be able to take the brunt of the attack, and there was no way he could reinforce a thing that was not his body that fast.

Ren ducked the heavy blow, drawing his own sword underneath Jonan, and hitting him neatly on the jaw, causing the big man to stagger back with an open wound on his jaw.

"Ouch!" He dropped his large sword as he cupped his jaw with his hands. Ren could have struck another blow and decided to end things or he simply could count his strike as a win already, but he did none of that. Instead he waited for Jonan to be ready, he wanted the big man to give him more opportunities to have him appear even cooler.

Jonan as expected did not back down, he picked his sword with his right hand, with his left hand still on his open chin.

He raised the sword straight at Ren, appearing to be hesitant with attacking now, he did not want to rush forward and leave them open to attacks. Instead he slowly walked to Ren, walking in circles and again he made the first move. He swung overhead, and this time, Ren parried cleanly. He had coated the sword with an ample amount of mana, a small amount that Jonan could not see.

The large fighter did not back down, he struck and struck, going side, up, side, side and overhead strikes, and Ren parried these blows cleanly, appearing unperturbed by the collision whereas Jonan was huffing and puffing.

Jonan suddenly jumped backwards, his eagle-focused eyes on Ren like he sought to rip him apart with talons. He held his sword overhead, and held forward his right hand in a stance.

’A special move?’ Ren thought.

Yes, it was a special move, Jonan called it,

"Swirling tornado."

There was a leap, a deep dent left in its wake. All of Jonan’s muscles bulged, veins appearing like they would tear free from the skin that caged them. He was fast.

Ren’s countenance changed from that of mild disinterest to focus. He held the reinforced blade by his flank prepared to intercept and counterattack.

Jonan was about two meters away from Ren, and when Ren thought the sword was going to come above, Ren twirled, and became a tornado.

Ren’s eyes widened, ’I should have guessed.’ he smirked. The sword seemed to move everywhere, but then it stopped. Ren’s blade held it in place.

The look on Jonan’s square shaped face was that of utter surprise. He had not anticipated Ren being that competent in reaction, and certainly not on the sword being able to take the force of the strike. Jonan looked at Ren, and saw the nasty smirk on his face. The big man was close to claiming defeat and giving up, but Ren struck too fast.

A clean swift strike to Jonan’s abdomen was all it took, and the village’s strongest fell.