by L. M. Kerr
Was the armor perfect? No, it had a couple of very small holes. But compared to the human without armor, the number of weak spots was vastly smaller. Targeting them was no easy feat.
Add on tons of extra strength, regeneration prowess, and enhanced talent, and that was a good description of the Toren Race.
But despite all of that, Micheal was handing these attacking Torens like they were children.
10 more seconds passed.
The clashes of combat echoed forth, grunts of pain, thuds of weapons off of stone or flesh, cracking stone as powerful beings moved quickly.
In that time, 30 more Toren bodies were added to the pile, all knocked unconscious near the center of the arena.
Every movement Micheal made was full of grace. Instructor Borbo was at his wits’ end as he watched this, unable to reconcile what he was seeing.
Micheal made impossible dodges multiple times a second. He avoided death by the skin of his teeth over and over, causing attacks that seemed sure to hit him miss by a hair. He seemed to swim through the air itself, moving both slowly and quickly at times in fluid movements that could not be stopped.
His movements were a thing of beauty, delicate and strong in different ways. It was truly a dance, but one of death and destruction, guided forth by his seemingly omnipresent hand.
He was unstoppable.
Several times, groups of Toren fighters tried to surround him, attempting to use their overwhelming numbers to take him down in a mad rush. Each time this happened, Micheal would skillfully retreat, sometimes even flipping up through the air as he perfectly slipped through various gaps or creating his own openings with sheer skill. No matter how hard the crowd of Torens tried, they were unable to successfully keep him pinned down.
The Torens might be a powerful race, but they, just like the Byrens, were also a race obsessed with honor and the appearance of honor. The inexperience most of these Torens had when it came to group combat targeting a single skilled foe became very clear as the battle progressed. Some of them even seemed to be waiting almost in turn for Micheal to finish fighting each foe, something that caused Micheal to snort half in amusement, half in appreciation.
As the 40th Toren’s body hit the floor, there was a brief lull in the combat.
Micheal’s breath was cool and relaxed as he took advantage of this lull to take a closer look at the surrounding Torens, analyzing everything around him. He was exerting himself, especially in such a high-level fight, but his body was strong enough that he could hold his own for now.
With his powerful Soul and current capabilities, Micheal could innately sense anyone within 20 meters of him. When he zeroed in on his senses, putting his full focus and attention into the fight, that sensation evolved into one that let him sense his immediate surroundings within battle itself.
Not only could he feel the flow of battle, he also knew exactly where his opponent’s foot would land, he could tell exactly where an axe was going to hit him, where a sword would stab.
Part of this had to do with his vast experience as a Swordmaster and his own battle experience and talent. Micheal had never considered himself a genius in most regards. He was coldly neutral when it came to gauging his own talents.
He knew he was at least somewhat exceptional when it came to training his Sword Mastery, especially as he grew to understand it more and more.
His determination was also definitely exceptional when he compared it to other people, as were a few other quirks of his personality.
However, if there was one thing he knew he did better than almost anyone else, it would have to be in regards to fighting against many foes at once.
Facing a single enemy was a unique challenge in its own right. You had to focus purely on their talents, capabilities, Abilities, and the surroundings as you dueled them. In most situations, the end result of the battle would come about based on your individual capabilities versus theirs.
However, everything was thrown on its head when you fought multiple enemies.
You had to account for their coordination, you had to account for many different levels of Abilities, of tactics, of differing strengths and weaknesses. The entire feel for a duel against many enemies was completely different from that of a duel against a single foe. They were incomparable.
In Micheal’s head, however… a vast battle like this transformed into a simple puzzle in his mind, one that merely needed to be solved, step by step.
A dozen thoughts would flash into his mind every second, each one guided by his instincts built up over the years.
‘If I dodge this attack in this way, I’ll be slightly open here. However, if I use my opponent's strike to shift my body in this way, I can turn that opening into an attack here. Then I’ll lean forward slightly here and use that attack to strike against my next enemy, and then I can create an opening to knock them unconscious there. But then I’ll need to…”
All Micheal needed to do was bring the correct pieces of the puzzle together. Under his guiding hand, each piece fit together snugly, resulting in a masterful, but simplistic, crafting of a complex battle.
In a battle like this, where there were no Abilities, there were no Artifacts, only simple Martial Arts and skill, Micheal flourished.
He didn’t pursue the appearance of grace or beauty in his battle movements. What he sought after were cold, logical strikes that achieved exactly what he needed. And it was those strikes that, somehow, ended up giving him this graceful and beautiful combat style, the most optimal route when it came to fighting large groups.
The lull in the battle vanished.
The Gods of tomorrow, arrayed in a fighting force that no human could easily match, began their attack anew. The various Toren warriors rushed forward in the dozens fearlessly, letting out blood-curdling battle calls.
And in the dozens they yet fell, conquered by a single man.
Micheal’s enemies were ones he placed at various skill levels. Some of them were well-trained beginners, while others were capable of giving him pause for a second or two, able to respond to his well-placed movements.
None of them, however, were anything close to what he considered an equal.
Still, a feeling of deep, rich enjoyment serenaded Micheal’s Soul as he fought against so many skilled enemies, enjoying this moment through to the very fabric of his existence.
100 Toren bodies hit the floor.
By now, Micheal’s breath had grown ragged. His body was superhumanly strong, but against so many enemies that all held near-divine bodies, even he couldn’t fight forever.
Still, he continued to fight adeptly, pulling out the maximum potential he could from his knowledge and experience.
He never directly blocked any attacks, instead preferring to use his enemy’s power against them, letting them throw their own forces into disarray. He danced between foes, knocking them unconscious with the speed of a slithering snake striking down her enemies.
A few times, some of the Torens had come up with more coordinated assault plans. However, all Micheal needed was a single chink in their planning, a single opening he could take advantage of.
It was after he took down the 122nd Toren that Micheal ran into the first real challenge of the battle.
Each wave of Torens was typically a haphazard rush of warriors. While their attacks came in well-disciplined, it was very clear that few of them had trained to fight in large groups, something Micheal took full advantage of. Only so many Torens could attack him at once, after all.
However, as the numbers were whittled down, one group of Torens rose to the challenge, one that caused Micheal to pause.
There were six Torens, about the maximum that could realistically attack Micheal at once. All of these Torens were of the ‘Grown’ age group, or adult Torens that had full mastery of their body.
These six Torens spread out around Micheal in a close-knit group. Instead of the mad rush that had dominated the last several seconds, these Torens forced those behind them to wai
t as they stalked forward.
‘Solid coordination.’ Micheal’s breath might be ragged due to strain, but he moved as gracefully as he had before, keeping his attention split between all six.
All six of the Torens wielded two sets of swords, one in each hand. All of them were hunched slightly forward in a wide stance, their knees bent and their arms slightly raised. Their blades were held at perfectly equal heights and turned a little outward. Micheal’s eyes narrowed slightly when he saw this.
Among the Toren Race, there were three official ‘Schools’ of Swordsmanship that had earned themselves a certain level of prestige. The Fast Shadow Sword, the Sword Style of the Sun and Moon, and the Wavering Blade Style.
These six Torens had adopted the first stance of the Sword Style of the Sun and Moon, Rending Earth.
Micheal had always been a proponent of mixing up various techniques and styles in many different ways. He had never named his own style of swordcraft, because it wasn’t an individual style on its own. It combined hundreds of techniques and was ever-changing, adapting to any situation using his own mind.
This style of fighting was not the norm. Very few people could do what Micheal did, adapting to every battle in his own way, combining the study of thousands of different techniques and movements altogether in an instant, without hesitation.
Instead, most Martial Artists fought by studying a set number of techniques over and over, and incorporating them not only into their muscle memory but also into their mind. They then fell back on these techniques during battle, relying upon them to help counter their enemy and lead them to victory.
Not all warriors fought like that, but in general, a small number of techniques that a fighter practiced over and over were the bedrock of most warriors' fighting styles.
This particular stance was one built on stability, able to overcome a number of threats and react to them quickly. It would be tough to break through directly, especially when approached by six users of it. It was a solid defensive stance.
However, when Micheal saw this, the small smile on his face grew slightly wider. A feeling of anticipation filled his bones, his eyes alighting.
‘Excellent!’ This was exactly what he had been waiting for.
Micheal watched as the group steadily approached. The Torens moved step by step, keeping their full, undivided attention on Micheal. Their cautious movements gave Micheal a couple of seconds to catch his breath, something he had no intention of turning down.
Just moments before they reached him, Micheal let out a small ‘ah,’ an exclamation, as if he had just undergone a moment of inspiration.
A moment later…
He adopted the exact same stance, identical in every fashion.
.
Chapter 17
Sword techniques, styles, or Sword Arts, as they were often known, were considered very prestigious things.
On the face of it, such a concept might seem counter-intuitive. After all, in the reality of the 7 Layers and beyond, fantastic powers of terrifying prowess existed.
However, when it came to Martial Arts, all of the treasured sword, spear, and fist techniques contained far more then met the eye. The existence of Sword Energy, and all Weapon Energy in particular, is what led to this.
Micheal's growth in understanding when it came to Sword Mastery, just like his combat style, was fueled by his own rigorous study of the concept, as well as studying many, many different techniques.
For Micheal, this made perfect sense. If he wanted to completely understand something, he needed to look at it from all angles. His unending determination and confidence led him forward, keeping him placed firmly on the route of making steady progress.
To others, however, such a thought process evoked feelings of raw chaos. Such a haphazard line of thinking would lead one all over the place in one’s studies, without any set goal or limit. Unless one literally went on to look at almost every single conceivable angle, their studies would cast them astray with little progress.
Of course, Micheal did just that, and laid down an extremely solid foundation. However, other people simply couldn’t think and conceptualize in such a way.
Thus, most people that were trying to master the concept of Sword Mastery followed set guidelines and intensive studies, taught to them by a skilled master or guided by helping Type Abilities.
And Sword Arts were a key part of that, starting here on the Second, especially the high-level ones.
The Sword Style of the Sun and Moon was a complex Sword Art that started at the very bottom, with basic techniques and movements, and contained a full guide on how to progress. From specific ways to think about Sword Energy, to specific routes to move it and specific ways to express it, this particular Sword Art helped shape a generation of warriors, giving their attacks a unique style.
This was considered the norm for Martial Artists, especially here on the Second Layer and beyond. Most warriors stuck to certain, rigorous Sword Arts, Spear Arts, or Weapon Arts of some sort.
Micheal perfectly mimicked the stance of the approaching Torens. Not only did he physically stand exactly as they were, but he also manipulated the Ki in his body to focus slightly on his legs. The boost was very minimal due to the passive nature of Ki, not comparable to using a real boosting Ability, but instead a copy of what these Torens were doing.
He only held a single sword, instead of two like the attacking Torens, but he adapted his movements to account for that, tilting his sword-wielding arm forward while drawing his other hand close.
The Torens continued to move forward. By this point, their ring of warriors was mere meters from Micheal. Their encirclement carried forward with its ominous march, like a noose tightening around Micheal’s neck.
Finally, when it almost seemed as if the Torens would walk into Micheal before striking… they attacked.
As a single unit, all six Torens took a fast half-step forward while raising their right arms up. They then slashed down hard with the sword in that right hand, while the blade in their left stabbed forward, piercing towards Micheal’s chest. Energy ripped about their swords, Intermediate Tier Sword Energy glistening.
The mass attack was executed with a level of skill that certainly showed off why these Torens were being recruited into a powerful Sect, the setting for this dreamworld.
Their coordinated blow slammed down directly where Micheal had been. This overhead strike from above combined with an eviscerating stab from below made a deadly combination, especially when used from 6 different angles at once.
A regular man would’ve died in an instant and even a powerful genius would’ve been left with no options.
Unfortunately for them, Micheal was far from a regular man, and far more than just a powerful genius.
When facing an attack like this, a coordinated blow that left no openings, Micheal instantly reached the correct decision.
If there weren’t any natural openings to take advantage of, he simply had to make them himself.
Micheal had adopted the first stance of the Sword Style of the Sun and Moon. Just before his enemies launched their attack, he shifted that stance into the second one.
Striding Lightning.
His legs seemed to vibrate as he kicked off of the ground, the concentrated power of his previous stance fueling an explosive leap of massive proportions. The stone beneath Micheal literally turned to dust as his body blurred into an extremely fast leap, breaking towards one of the encroaching Torens.
His abrupt attack did not take the Torens by surprise. Despite the fact that they had already begun their own attack, the warriors smoothly shifted their focus to stopping Micheal. Their blades twisted and turned, cutting right for his chest, back, and head.
Here, again, Micheal showed off control of his body and battle awareness that was simply unnatural.
Twelve blades slashed towards him… and all twelve of these blades missed.
Some of them missed by just a hair, while others swung out wide and far, comi
ng nowhere close to him. It was as if Micheal’s body had turned to water, causing every attack that gunned for him to simply fail to connect.
A few of their stabs actually managed to make contact with him. However, instead of cutting into his flesh, they merely tore a few holes in the loose clothes he was wearing, completely failing to injure him. The rippling Sword Energy present in all of their attacks found no outlet, their carefully crafted plan ending in failure.
After their missed blows, the six well-trained Torens followed up their techniques with another coordinated assault. They didn’t let the miss shake their confidence, instead attempting to build up momentum as they charged forward and let loose.
If they had been given just a split second more time to recover, it was a very real possibility that they would’ve managed to skewer Micheal. After all, he was in a very disadvantageous position and they were all very skilled warriors for their age. While he might have managed to pull off a miracle once, pulling it off again and again would be difficult.
Micheal didn’t give them that split second.
In fact… the moment the first Toren swung his weapon, the fate of this group had been sealed.
Right after he dodged the group attack, his body ducking and waving in a series of ultra-fast movements, he attacked back.
His wooden sword slipped through the guard of one of the Torens and, without any build-up, knocked him completely unconscious in an instant.
With one of their group-members down, the defense of the team crumbled, and they were promptly beaten back in short order by Micheal. All six of the warriors were down in a matter of seconds, none of them individually able to hold a candle to Micheal’s skill.
It didn’t matter what numbers they came in, it didn’t matter how powerful they were. In the face of Micheal’s unbelievable prowess, the young Torens were unable to mount more than just an expression of resistance.
150 Toren bodies lay spread out on the ground, in random piles on the arena stage.