Chapter 689: Bastion and Sheen

High above the training ground, where nobody but the strong could make out what was going on, two figures hovered, both looking at least somewhat strained. One was the hall master—his hair no longer in a ponytail. Instead, it was fluttering loosely because of the clash of auras. His aura, though—it was so sharp that it would have been dangerous for any of the younger generation to be around. However, in contrast to his sharp aura, the sheen of his eyes had lost some of their glow and were a bit duller than before.

The Vice Patriarch, on the other hand, had an aura that was almost calming. Both men were old with white hair, but where Sheen's features looked almost unkempt, Bastian's were those of grace. He did not sport a beard like Sheen did, and his hair was neatly trimmed. Still, whereas Sheen had a duller look in his eyes, Bastian had a disfigured robe and slow-healing cuts on his body.

"I have to admit," Bastian said as the two kept their distance from one another after several exchanges. "You have surprised me once again. Here I was thinking that the years living in punishment had dulled your edge, but you are just as sharp as ever."

"No, I have been dulled," Sheen said as he ran his hand through his beard. "But I'm slowly getting it back. But look at you. It doesn't look like I can bully you as I once did. It seems that even with all your pencil pushing and paperwork, you still manage to find time for your weave."

"A vice patriarch has to keep up both appearances and strength, does he not?" Bastian replied. "The vice patriarch is the face of the clan—we are seen and recognized more than the patriarchs are, as we deal with all but the most important events and circumstances."

"I will give you that," Sheen said. "But you are still a little brat."

Instantly, Sheen disappeared from sight. Bastian felt a threat of death at the back of his neck and reacted by weaving a shield directly where a thread struck. The thread cut through the shield like butter, but the aim and speed were thrown off just enough to allow Bastian's body to fade and move away from the attack. Countering, the vice patriarch reached out with a hand and shot five invisible threads toward the sharpest part of the aura.

Sheen dodged the first four, but the fifth thread struck him in his shoulder and caused him to let out a tsk. Bastian flicked the finger the thread was connected to, and Sheen felt as if something else was plucked from his soul. Bastian was a member of House Weave, and their specialty was soul attacks. Against an unknowing victim, his attacks were lethal.

Masters such as Bastian needed only one pluck to create a chain reaction ending in an entire soul falling apart. Any level 1000 who had not yet reached Ascendant was nothing more than fodder to such a master. Luckily for Sheen, he'd been friends with the guy for centuries and had traveled the System Universe together when they were young. Even if they had not sparred for a while, Sheen knew what the man was capable of—maybe even more so than the man himself did.

Hall Master Sheen was not a level 1000 that had yet to ascend, though. He also had far too much willpower and too many passive skills that protected him from soul attacks. It would take Bastian time to unweave his soul. However, with each string that was plucked away, a sense of tiredness fell over the elder from House Warp.

But the longer the fight went, the faster and more proficient the hall master became with his movements. The faster and more proficient his movements became, the larger the grin on his face grew. He hadn't had such fun in decades, and he was very rusty—more than Bastian would ever know. But with each exchange the two made, more and more of that rust fell off, and the blade that he once was came shining through.

But Bastian was not a rookie by any means. He could feel his old ally's edge coming back. And though he was a master when it came to soul attacks, it was not his greatest strength. His biggest strength, and the reason he was made vice patriarch, was his mastery when it came to weaving formations with his soul thread.

And as soon as the battle had begun, he had started weaving. Every direction he dodged, every step he moved, and every position he took was done with intent. Bastian was the vice patriarch, but he was also one other thing—he was the commander of their military if ever there was a conflict. His formations could turn the tide in any battle. He was invaluable when it came to large-scale battles and wasn't a slouch in duels.

Just one more thread, Bastian thought as he made to complete the formation he'd been working on since the battle began. Sheen disappeared and came barreling in with another devastating attack. Just then, Bastian finally found his chance. The excitement in his chest that he was about to defeat Sheen in a fair duel grew. He had him.

However, just before he connected the final string and completely altered the battlefield and conditions in his favor, he saw that Sheen's attack was a feint. Instead of a wave of thread threatening to slice him into pieces, everything stopped, and Sheen disappeared.

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When Bastian found him, his heart sank. Sheen was hovering directly above the position where his final string needed to connect to complete the pattern. "I know all of your tricks," Sheen said as he spread his arms out and countless threads appeared all around him. The old man pushed mana into the threads and sent them all out. "I hope it didn't take too much out of you to create all these patterns," he said as his own thread began wrapping around the invisible weaves woven by Bastian.

"How?" Bastian muttered. "You couldn't make them out last time we sparred. At least not to this level. And how do you know which are the real and which are the feints?"

"Just because I didn't work on my own strength while being punished doesn't mean I didn't do anything. Do you know how boring the Hall of Records is? I finally got around to going through all the memory crystals. Then, after that, I decided to do some casual reading. You know, I'm not really a learned man, but you do seem to gain some insights when you combine that reading with personal experience. I haven't touched my affinity in years, but I have found ways to keep my mind sharp."

"So you... studied weaves?"

"Among other things," Sheen said as he clenched his fists and pulled. Suddenly, everything Bastian had been working for was sliced apart. All the hidden threads, the decoys... everything... none of it was enough to stop Sheen from destroying his plans.

"But you're still just a lowly Mid Ascendant!" the vice patriarch coughed up blood as the backlash from having his weave destroyed right in front of him hit his body. Instantly, he was hit with a wave of tiredness that he hadn't felt in decades.

"And you still get overconfident because you think you can plan better than anyone else," Sheen said. "Sometimes, combat experience and instincts are all it takes to destroy those precious plans. It doesn't hurt when you underestimate me, either. You seem to forget that I am not just some dull brute."

Bastian lifted his arm up and wiped some of the blood off his mouth with part of his robe that hadn't yet been turned into rags. "It's not over yet!" he shouted, and all wind and air movement around them stopped.

Sheen's eyes widened, and excitement flashed in them. Suddenly, he wrapped himself in what resembled a cocoon of visible soul threads. Then it began spinning. The threads lashed out against what looked like nothing. However, it was obvious they were hitting something, as occasionally one would strike out and fall apart.

Bastian pushed with everything he had, summoning millions of soul threads to attack Sheen. However, every thread he pushed was met by another and either stopped, deflected, or destroyed. It was infuriating that Sheen could so accurately predict his attacks. With the backlash from his formation being destroyed, and the fact that Sheen was becoming more and more proficient as the battle went on, Bastian knew that if the fight was drawn out, there would be no way for him to win.

So, finally, the vice patriarch made a decision to try to end it all with one attack.

***

Below, Derek and the small group of what must have been elders of the clan stared into the sky, watching the two Ascendants clash. However, the two Ascendants were so high up that Derek still couldn't make out anything. The only way he was able to gather information was when one of the elders around him spoke. Derek glanced back at the first man to arrive with a confused expression.

The man glanced back at Derek and let a small smile appear on his face. "They are realizing that neither one is the same person they were the last time they sparred. Thus far, they have both been using only their basic combat and affinity skills. They are very strong Ascendants, so if they go further than that, they risk harming countless lives—maybe even entire ecosystems."

"That strong?" Derek asked.

"Yes, but there are others who are even stronger," the man said. "The power of a Transcendent is not something to ever take lightly—even if you are a Transcendent yourself." He looked Derek up and down. "Which you may have the ability to become one day if Sheen is right about you."

Derek only nodded slowly and looked back up at the battle. At about that time, he finally managed to make out a giant... something in the air. It was at least big enough that he could see more than a speck of it above him. "What's that?" he muttered.

"That... is Sheen bringing out the reckless side of Bastian," the man beside him said with a sigh. "Guess they know I'm down here already."

"Huh?" Derek muttered as he turned away from the sky and looked at the man beside him. The stoic man actually rolled his eyes, then spread out his own arms. Suddenly, Derek felt an invisible energy appear above him. He couldn't really make out how big it was or what exactly it was, but the man had certainly done something.

As soon as the man was finished with whatever he was doing, Derek felt the aura of the Vice Patriarch. It was like the aura he'd let out before was just a drop in the bucket. If not for the energy covering him, he didn't think he'd even be able to continue standing. Just after that aura hit, so too did the sharp aura from Hall Master Sheen.

"Damn..." one of the women beside them said. "He's still so sharp..."

While listening to those around him, Derek continued to stare up at the sky. Soon, one of the figures above began to glow. It started small, then grew brighter and brighter until, if he looked directly up at the sky, a bluish-white light was all that was left for him to see. Still, Derek didn't falter—he continued to stare no matter how much it hurt. After all, what was the worst-case scenario where he was at the moment? Would he have to regrow an eyeball or two? He knew he could do that if it came down to it.

"Brace yourself, young man," the stoic man said, then pushed with his arms, and a blue wave rippled from the energy barrier he'd released before. That was when Derek glanced down and saw the absolutely massive size of the energy surrounding them. The ripple ran all the way into the distance to where it disappeared from his sight.

Is he shielding the entire city? Or maybe even the whole region? Planet? Derek nearly gulped at the thought. Wait... brace mys— he started to think, then a crash rang out that left his ears ringing, and a force hit the shield above him and caused it to ripple and bend. The hell just happened?