(Character stat cards: link in the description below the content.)

Are you planning to take my life?” the young priest asked, his voice quivering but resolute. His labored breaths billowed out in white puffs marking the coldness of the night air. Garbed in his pristine white robe of a seminarian, he cautiously stepped backwards along the roof ridge towards the golden circle of God, a magnificent serpent with its mouth chasing tail. The symbol of Ora the Almighty God shone brightly under the moonlight crowning the Temple of Ora that loomed over the city of Bricester in its marble facade surrounded by the sculptures of the great guardian knights of old.

“The Almighty won’t save you now,” threatened the assassin. "And as a mere seminarian, you've no guardian to call upon and transform into a guardian knight."

The young priest's status as a seminarian was apparent by the purge he wore, a white mask that symbolized the purging of the self, a necessary rite of passage before he was ordained as a priest. Despite the looming threat of the assassin, he bravely held his ground on the marble rooftop of the temple, brandishing a falchion in his right hand as the ends of his robe fluttered in the biting wind.

Despite the looming threat of the assassin, he bravely held his ground on the marble rooftop of the temple, brandishing a falchion in his right hand as the ends of his robe fluttered in the biting wind.

His adversary wasn’t much bigger than himself, standing about ten inches over fight feet in height. He was clad in a metallic mask pulled up over his nose with only a leather gambeson for protection while he held an unimpressive shortsword in his left hand. The assassin maintained remarkable balance on the narrow ridge of the roof as he shuffled his feet towards the young priest.

“Left-handed, I see. You are not from the temple. Your stance isn’t orthodox and you hold a Narean training sword. You are an outsider with access to our armory,” the young priest made astute observations.

“Trevor, I’ve no intention of killing you, but keep guessing and I may have to reconsider,” the voice, unmistakably youthful, held a tinge of warning.

But before Trevor could respond, the assassin closed the distance between them charging with his sword reeled back behind his head.

Using Tempest Slash (60 m)

Activating blue and green strains.

The Assassin channels the power of the Tempest with a swift 360º spin of his blade above his head, unleashing a devastating blow that deals double the Attack Damage in his next strike.

With a graceful lightness to his steps, the assassin leapt high into the air with his sword raised above his head. And in one fluid motion, he spun 360 degrees, the moonlight dancing all over the twirling blade. Trevor watched in a mixture of awe and trepidation as everything unfolded in a blink of an eye. He raised his falchion a moment too late and instead turned his right shoulder in to avoid a critical blow to his chest. The assassin completed his full-circle slash with a devastating strike, the sharp edge of his blade cutting deeply into the mana shield over the young priest's shoulder.

Pzzt.

Warning.

You have received a damage of 190 points.

2 x Attack Damage(95) x Accuracy(82%) - Opponent Armor(23) = 149

Warning.

Your mana shield of 90/140 points has been completely depleted.

Next strike could prove fatal.

The priest groaned in pain as the strike disabled his mana shield, sending electric currents surging through his body.

Without giving the young priest any opportunity to recover, the assassin swiftly reeled his sword back for a quick thrust towards his shoulder, his intent clear to spill blood.

With quick reflexes, Trevor stretched out his palm and cast Thrust –

Using Mana (10 m)

Activating Blue strain.

Thrust.

– propelling himself away just enough as the tip of his enemy’s shortsword just graced his fluttering hair and nicked his nose.

“Argh!” Trevor groaned as he quickly wiped the blood from his nose.

"You're making this difficult for yourself," the boy warned, his tone serious. "Your mana shield is depleted. The next strike could kill you." He paused for a moment before attempting a more diplomatic approach. “I just need your garb and mask, Trevor, and I will spare your life. That and I need you to go to sleep for a few hours.”

“What you demand suggests disguise. Perhaps to gain entry into the grand palace on this most monumental day of our Kingdom?” questioned Trevor, whose keen observation drew a pang of annoyance in the eyes of the assassin. Indeed it was a momentous occasion for the Kingdom of Narea, as the people of the city, along with all the priests and priestesses of the temple, had congregated at the grand palace to offer their prayers for the safe arrival of the crown's firstborn. Unfortunately for the young priest, it now left him completely defenseless against an intruder of higher caliber.

"Once again, you're making it very difficult for me to spare your life," replied the assassin, in a tone of frustration.

"Are you a Nork? Have you come to kidnap the future of our kingdom?" demanded the young priest.

"I have no interest in the child nor the affairs of your state. I'm merely a vagabond with a personal vendetta to fulfill," explained the assassin as he inched closer to the priest.  "Your robe and mask, priest. That is all I require."

The young priest's response was swift and resolute. "Not a chance."

Trevor observed his opponent closely, noting how he feigned Blossfechten, the Narean way of the longsword, yet displayed a proclivity to charging and closing the distance with his enemy, a notable trait of Glima, the Nork way of combat. But it was the compact and powerful nature of his cuts and thrusts, the very heart of his style, that left Trevor struggling to place him.

"Have it your way, then." He charged once again, sword outstretched, aiming for the young priest's neck.

Trevor’s eyes followed the tip of the assassin's sword, which now lay only an arm's length away. Reacting quickly, Trevor raised his falchion with both hands firmly gripped around the hilt, and parried the incoming strike with a perfectly timed upward swing.

‘He won’t be able to resist this chance to come in with his left elbow,’ Trevor braced himself as he anticipated his next move, shielding his face with his arm. Sure enough, the assassin used the momentum from his opponent’s upward parry, spinning 180º to his left and fearlessly closed in for a left elbow strike.

Trevor had successfully read his opponent’s move, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the assassin’s speed forever nor solely rely on his intuition to keep him a step ahead of his adversary.

“Hmph!” the assassin interjected with a tone of frustration. With his elbow strike deterred and his back against the young priest, the assassin deceptively dropped the blade into his right hand, poised to strike once more.

Trevor’s perceptive eyes caught the assassin's sword glistening in the moonlight as it vanished under his shoulder and reappeared just as quickly as he spun to his right this time, extending the blade with his right arm in a backward thrust aimed at the young priest’s neck. A fatal strike Trevor would not have been able to avoid had it not been for the moon casting her watchful gaze on the blade. With the tip of the assassin’s shortsword just inches away, Trevor deflected the blade off course with the hilt of his falchion, feeling the cold steel barely graze the back of his neck. But just as Trevor cleared the sword out of its way, he left his chest completely unguarded, and soon discovered the palm of the boy’s free hand, now burning blue, pressed firmly against his chest. With a short gasp, life immediately drained from the young priest’s face. Trevor dropped his sword and stared at the boy’s burning blue eyes. The boy had been channeling his mana into his hand all along. The previous strikes were just a ploy to buy himself more time. And then it dawned on the young priest that this could be it for him.

Using Mana (40 m)

Activating blue strain.

Thrust.

With a resounding boom, the powerful strike all but claimed the young priest’s life, sending him flying through the air, his limbs stretched out towards the heavens. The terrible blow folded the young priest’s body in half, instantly cracking a number of his ribs and sending a wave of excruciating pain rippling through his body. Even his robe quivered with the intensity of the damage he had taken as he was hurled through the air and slammed against the spire of the temple that proudly bore the Circle of Ora. The young priest immediately lost consciousness from the impact and fell onto the rooftop, face-first.

Warning. You have received 83 points of damage.

Attack Damage(90) x Accuracy(100%) - Opponent Armor(23) = 83

You have sustained critical injuries to your ribs and your abdomen. You are in need of the immediate attention of a healer.

The assassin approached the unconscious priest and knelt down beside him. He swiftly stripped him of his garb and threw it over his own shoulders, the size fitting him perfectly. With a sense of anticipation, the assassin finally removed his own steel mask, revealing a striking visage with piercing blue eyes and a thick mane of black hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. Lastly, his eyes fell upon the purge, the white mask tightly wrapped around the young priest’s face. The assassin carefully removed the mask from the priest’s face, revealing a countenance marked with a boyfish charm. With a heavy heart, the assassin produced a white button from his pocket, a potent healing ingredient, and broke off a piece. He swiftly slipped it into Trevor's mouth, hoping it would aid in his speedy recovery. Despite his actions, he held no ill will towards the young priest and had never intended to cause him such injury.

Congratulations.

You have received 25 EXP.

2025/4200 EXP.

2175 EXP until Lv. 26.

“Are you alright, Geonwu?” the voice of Geonwu's tier 5 guardian, Orel, rang out in his ears. A massive bird combining the grace of an eagle and the strength of a bear was soaring thousands of feet above the city of Bricester, keeping watch over the Grand Palace with his keen eyesight. His fiery feathers of red crowned his regal head and rustled in the cold winter air, drawing attention to his sharp and intelligent gaze. Orel’s wings, tinted a deep blue, were powerful and capable of carrying him into the highest of altitudes. Golden feathers adorned his tail, and his claws were fitted with gleaming claw blades.

“I’m fine, Orel. Is everything okay at the palace?” he inquired of his guardian as he straightened his new garb.

“Well, if you’re done dressing up, I just thought you might want to know that the Queen has given birth to a princess,” Orel replied briskly.

“She’s what?!” Geonwu exclaimed, his panic rising, as he quickly gathered his belongings. Without wasting another moment, he leapt from the roof of the temple and disappeared into the city, now disguised as a seminarian.