Chapter 120: Sparring

The heavy void-steel greatsword descended with the force of a falling guillotine, tearing through the pale sunlight. Snow Valestorm had launched herself across the vibrant green grass of the estate’s backyard with terrifying speed, her Level 48 attributes completely unrestrained. She didn’t use a single system skill or magical talent; this was pure physical momentum.

Leon Wes stood in the center of the clearing, the roaring blue mana-waterfall crashing down behind him. He held his own void-steel longsword in a loose, relaxed one-handed grip. As Snow’s massive blade cleaved downward, aiming to split him perfectly down the middle, Leon didn’t dodge. He didn’t activate Phantom Shift to let the blade pass through him, and he certainly didn’t trigger his Aegis of the Tempest.

They had established the an unspoken rule. No magic. No skills. This was a battle of raw, foundational technique.

Leon raised his longsword, angling the blade precisely forty-five degrees to intercept her strike.

CLANG!

The sound of the high-density void-steel colliding echoed like a cannon shot through the tranquil valley. The sheer kinetic force of Snow’s overhead cleave sent a visible shockwave through the tall grass, flattening the blades in a perfect circle around them.

Snow gritted her teeth, her crystalline blue eyes burning with intense, exhilarating competitive fire. She pushed down with all her might, attempting to force Leon’s guard to collapse under the weight of her heavier weapon and her forward momentum.

But Leon was an immovable object.

His base Strength sat at an astronomical 260. He was a Level 100 Steadfast entity. Even without his Grave-Crusher talent multiplying his mass, his raw biological density was akin to a mountain. He held the longsword with a single hand, his arm not trembling, his boots not sliding a single millimeter backward in the dirt.

Instead of pushing back with brute force, Leon utilized a fundamental principle of leverage. He smoothly rotated his wrist, sliding the edge of his longsword down the flat of Snow’s greatsword. He guided her massive kinetic energy away from his center of mass, directing the tip of her blade to crash harmlessly into the earth beside his boot.

Before her sword even hit the dirt, Leon stepped into her guard.

He didn’t swing for a lethal blow. He brought the flat of his blade up in a swift, controlled arc, aiming to tap her exposed shoulder to signify a successful counter.

But Snow was not a novice. The moment she felt the resistance on her greatsword vanish, she knew she had been redirected. She didn’t fight the downward momentum of her weapon; she leaned into it.

Using the embedded tip of her greatsword as a pivot point, she vaulted her entire body off the ground. She spun horizontally through the air, her heavy black leather boots sweeping around in a devastating, high-speed kick aimed directly at Leon’s temple.

Leon’s icy blue and golden eyes tracked the movement effortlessly. His 265 Agility made her rapid martial arts maneuver look as though it were occurring underwater.

He ducked smoothly, allowing her boot to whistle harmlessly over his head, the silver cross-chain garters on her thighs chiming wildly.

Snow landed gracefully on her feet five yards away, immediately ripping her greatsword out of the dirt and spinning into a flawless defensive guard. She was breathing heavily, a wide, feral grin stretching across her flushed face.

"You’re fast, baby," Snow called out over the rushing water, her chest heaving slightly. "But you can’t just stand there and play defense all day. You’re the husband. Husband means you lead the charge!"

"I am giving you the floor, Snow," Leon replied calmly, his posture completely relaxed. He rested the tip of his longsword against the grass. "A spar is a conversation. I am letting you speak first."

"Oh, I’ll speak alright," Snow laughed.

She exploded forward again. This time, she didn’t commit to a massive, easily redirected overhead strike. She began a relentless, flowing sequence of sweeping horizontal and diagonal cuts. She utilized the massive weight of her greatsword to pull her body through complex spins and pivots, turning herself into a localized tornado of dark void-steel.

Leon remained in the center of the clearing, stepping backward in a tight, controlled circle. He parried her strikes with absolute, millimeter precision. He didn’t block her attacks with the edge of his blade; he continuously tapped the flat of her sword, altering the trajectory of her swings just enough to let them pass harmlessly by him.

Clack-clack-clang-clack!

The rhythm of the spar was blindingly fast, a metallic percussion echoing over the roar of the waterfall.

Snow was incredibly skilled. Leon analyzed her footwork, her hip rotation, and her spatial awareness with genuine admiration. She had no wasted movements. Every time he deflected her blade, she instantly capitalized on the recoil to position herself for the next strike. She was a master in this. If she possessed his raw stats, she would be an apocalyptic threat on the battlefield.

But she didn’t possess his stats. She was Level 48.

Leon was consciously capping his own movement speed and physical output to roughly twenty percent of his actual capability. He was intentionally going easy on her. He wanted her to get her footing. He wanted her to push her own limits, to understand the reach and weight of her abilities, and to acclimate to the sheer pressure of fighting a superior opponent without being instantly overwhelmed.

He deflected a low sweep, stepped cleanly over a retaliatory leg-kick, and parried a heavy thrust aimed at his chest.

Snow was pouring everything she had into the offensive. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her white hair whipped wildly around her shoulders. She was swinging with enough raw force to decapitate a Level 50 Elite monster, but every single strike was met with the same infuriatingly calm, effortless deflection.

She feinted a high slash, abruptly dropped her center of gravity, and launched a brutal, two-handed uppercut with the greatsword, aiming to knock Leon’s weapon completely out of his grip.

Leon simply stepped back half an inch. The tip of her greatsword missed his chin by a hairsbreadth. Before she could recover from the upward momentum, Leon extended his free hand and gently tapped the center of her chest, right over her sternum.

"Dead," Leon stated softly.