The Legendary Warrior (Book 5)

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Authors: Julius St. Clair
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a continuous monsoon of destruction between the two Sages.
    Lakrymos growled and grit his teeth as he dodged all of the blades that would have rendered a fatal blow or major wound, but he still had to accept the minor nicks and cuts, and those minor afflictions were growing in number by the millisecond. He had to strike down Bastion now, and put an end to the sword show before his body took too much damage.
    Though he could barely see through the downpour of blades, he could sense the young Sage straight ahead, waiting for him to strike. And strike he would.
    Lakrymos infused his eidolon with a massive amount of energy and lunged forward, aiming straight for Bastion’s chest, but when he made contact, it was obvious that it wasn’t the boy. Instead he had stabbed a mound of stone, roughly the same shape and size as Bastion, and when his blade ripped it apart, he could sense a great deal of energy falling from the center of the makeshift statue, as if it had been dumped from a bucket like water.
    A blip on Lakrymos’ internal radar sounded off and he spun around, but the real Bastion was already there, plunging a steel dagger through his cheek, and using the little strength he had left in his young body to force it downward. Lakrymos howled and shoved Bastion away instinctively, grabbing his face and feeling all of its tears and disfigurements. The sword shower ended, and he glared at the young Sage in rage.
    Bastion was barely able to stand, and it was apparent he had used nearly all of his energy creatin g the storm of swords and the decoy. He had such a small amount of energy left that Lakyrmos hadn’t even been able to sense his approach.
    Lakrymos ripped off his shirt and began tying it around his face.
    “Do you think you’ve won?” Lakrymos asked, and Bastion simply smiled.
    “Nope,” Bastion said. “But I needed a little break from all of that manifesting.”
    “A break that will be short lived,” Lakrymos said as he sprinted forward with his blade tight in hand. Before his eyes, Bastion witnessed the stick transforming, becoming a silver, jagged sword, as wide as his head. But he didn’t have time to study it further.
    Bastion felt his feet hum as he infused a bit of energy into them, and then he took off, running away from his mentor’s fatal attacks. From the grunt he heard from Lakrymos, he knew that it was the right move.
    Lakrymos was definitely faster, but it wasn’t always about speed. Bastion just had to stay on his toes, switching tactics on the fly as the moment arose, knowing that one wrong move would be his last. He would use a burst of speed to twist in order to receive only a shallow cut instead of being all-out stabbed. Then he would infuse his muscles with power and take a swipe to the forearm, knowing that Lakrymos had decided at that moment to switch to speed over power. Of course the blade still cut, and it still hurt, but it wasn’t even close to the damage it would have been if Lakrymos had just stuck with raw strength.
    Once his mentor realized his mistake and switch ed back to strength over speed, Bastion would counter, dodging more blows and running away as fast as he could, continuing the deadly game of cat and mouse. He just had to buy time and hope for no interference. If he could do that, he had a chance.
    I can do this , Bastion thought to himself as he used a pillar to take the brunt of one of Lakrymos’ attacks—a strike that he wasn’t able to dodge. Bastion did a back flip in the air as the blade barely missed the tip of his nose and another pillar caught his feet so that he was able to stay high up in the air. Lakrymos tore through the pillar and continued his assault, and Bastion sent a wave of swords once again through the room from top to bottom—this time catching the Old Sage off guard. He shouted in agony as a sword tore down his back from shoulder to hip, but it only made him more furious. Bastion kept running.
    Summoning manifestations is tiring, Bastion

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