My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 454 - Fact Vs Fiction, Part 2

The first strike surely was one of the most critical aspects of a fight. 

It sets a precedent. A clear indicator of either opponent's mettle. All it took was a single hit to gauge strength, a split-second movement to gauge speed, a single strike to gauge intent…

I didn't know who exactly it was that struck first. 

With my eyes, green and naive to the ways of the battlefield, I may as well have been blind for all the good they did me.

All I caught were whirls, a streaking blur of movement lashing in the air, parting open the tall grass as it did.

I blinked once, and they both had disappeared, I blinked again and…

My ears heard it, before my eyes saw it, an explosion in the wind, in the dirt, a loud impact resounding across the vicinity.

Where I last saw Ash, now exists a small crater of upheaved dirt and ruined, scrunched grass… a swirl of scattered dust gradually thinning to reveal Ash quickly, steadily recovering to her feet, her sword in an awkward, crooked hold out in front of her. By my guess, she had just barely deflected something at the last possible instance.

Deflecting what though, I don't know.

He was still there - Dad, exactly where I last saw him, seemingly never having moved at all. I didn't even see or hear him do anything, the flimsy stick in his hand still lax in grip…

But then he spoke, just as Ash gathered her bearings… confirming definitively, that that crater of dirt Ash's feet now rested upon was the result of his blow.

Dad had struck first.

"You held back," He remarked, and even from afar, I could see the disapproval in his chiseled gaze. "I told you not to do that, didn't I?"

Ash made a tight expression, and across from the distance, I saw the green in her eyes briefly drift my way. 

Dad saw it too.

"Strip away from your mind that I am your Master's father, do not worry about that," He told her. "Right now, I am just your opponent. End of story." 

She needed assurance, I guess.

I decided to give her some.

"It's okay, Ash!" I called out to her too, giving her a quick smile of encouragement. "Do your best!"

Her blade aligned straight, Ash held it out proper and firm. Her focus resharpened.

"Very well," She said.

"If that isn't your best yet, then get better, because the next time won't just be a warning…" Dad said, raising his stick at her once more. "Now, try again."

The words barely had left him, when another heavy gust of wind blew back all within proximity - Ash cut the distance, in a split-second, meters into inches, her sword upwards, falling…

Dad reacted. A flicker in the breeze… and Ash's blade cleaved only the empty air. 

It all happened so fast, that by the time I could process what had happened, the battle had already shifted a hundred paces forward.

Suddenly they were on opposite sides from where they started. In blurs, faint whizzing outlines blitzing across the field. Scattering dust, trampling the grass, each attempted strike its own tumultuous explosion of sight and sound. 

The only way I was at all able to keep track of the chaos happening was with the shimmer of her sword. I saw it cleave, saw it strike, slice, a flurry of split-second motions blending seamlessly from one into the other. 

I rarely, if at all, had the chance to see Ash's swordsmanship on display. The last I could recall something similar to this happened was during her fight with a frenzied Adalia, and just like back then, all I could do was act as the awe-stricken bystander, unable to make sense of what he was seeing… except now somehow even more so. 

Ash effortlessly breaking the sound barrier with every swing of her sword was one thing… but witnessing my very own father blocking her strikes blow for blow was easily a whole new level of existential crisis I never knew I'd attain. 

Dad was a fit guy, broad and well-built. I always chalked it up to years of toiling in the field, but despite what his stature may imply, he was as harmless as one of our sheep. He never resorted to violence, was soft-spoken when he spoke, and always so polite when he did. 

He was slow too. When we went out, Sammy and I always had to considerably slow down just so he had a chance to catch up. Eating meals, he was always the last one to leave. He'll be out in the field by early sunrise, and sometimes still won't be done with his work even after the sun had long set into the night.

And right here… what I was seeing of him now… the feats he was exhibiting... It was a childhood, a lifetime of shattered preconceptions.

The speed of his movements, his every step - leaving fractures in the earth - how he quickly deflected every strike using nothing but a stray bit of wood that had somehow yet to shatter even after all it's been through.

What am I to even think anymore? 

"Good," I heard his voice echo in the skirmish, still on the defensive. "Now, do better."

That's when it happened. What I was hearing, heaving, grunting, the clatter of armor, the chink of steel, I stopped hearing it all. At once, there was only a resounding silence.

Something went soaring across the vast blue of the sky. I saw, squinting, as it eclipsed the sun, as it began to plunge, as it shimmered a bright blinding silver…

Ash's sword struck the earth blade-first, embedded so deep into the soil, that only its hilt remained visible above the surface.

Meanwhile, Dad's wooden stick remained firm in his grip.

"No magic," He sternly reminded, before shifting into a different, more aggressive stance. "Don't stop."

In a matter of mere milliseconds, the sounds of battle ensued once more, except the stick-bearing warrior was on the offensive now, and the Elf-Knight, weaponless, was forced into the defense.

But Ash refused to concede, the loss of her sword barely even fazed her… as if expecting it all along, she raised her gauntlets and took his blows head-on.

Next to strength, I knew agility was Ash's next best thing, and she did not disappoint. 

By a hair's breadth, she weaved past Dad's strike, redirecting the ones she couldn't, whilst also simultaneously dishing out blows of her own - the steel pads of her knuckles a shrill piercing ring as it clashed with the brittle surface of his stick.

I heard her efforts aloud, her shouts just as loud as the blows that followed. She almost seemed to be getting faster, stronger… louder too.

Then with a strike, her fist flying forward, although it was blocked, something else happened then... 

Dad was forced a step backward.

Another strike - a closer near-miss this time - an even further step. And then another, and another…

Ash was slowly gaining an upper hand, and Dad quickly realized it too. After blocking another blow, I saw him turn to relocate elsewhere, but Ash was relentless, and was hot on his wheels, spurring forward with another strike.

This one, this time, Dad raised his stick just as he's always done, but upon impact, with a crack that could be heard for miles around, his weapon crumbled in his hands, into the grass, and Ash's strike still wasn't slowing in momentum.

I didn't see it, a cloud of dust barely made anything tangible, but I definitely heard it. In the midst of it all, a grunt, a hiss of pain - then from the mist - I could see Dad stumbling, staggered, his usual stoic expression tense. 

But before he could barely recover, Ash emerged after him, ready with another barrage of strikes.

I had to shuffle in closer just to get a better look. Further and further, they were moving away from their original positions, leaving slight glimpses of devastation in their wake across the field.

Tunnel vision was having an effect, my eyes could only focus on their fight and nothing else. Because of that, I failed to notice just how close they were getting towards Sammy's giant ice glacier, a fact I only then realized, when Dad had unexpectedly backed up against it.

Ash threw another punch - so quick - it happened so fast, so effortlessly.

A strike aim squarely to the chest, with a dodge right, immediately began a strike that struck the hard icy-blue wall. 

At the moment of impact, it was like my ears were hearing too much. Like crackling glass, like falling stone, ripples and fractures forming on its surface, before in an even louder explosion of sound, it shattered completely onto the ground.

A rain of blue dust, and a million tiny ice pellets began to shower down around them. But neither one barely strayed their focus to even consider what the hell just happened.

Except for me, that is. I was considering plenty. That ice was giant, that ice was thick - a thousand concrete walls thick - and Ash brought it all crumbling with a single blow, and an accidental blow at that…

I knew she was strong, but… damn. 

If that had actually struck him, if he didn't move out of the way last-minute… yeah, he's a Hero but…

I swallowed my breath, felt my voice already rising from my throat….

"Enough!" 

Dad shot his arm forward at her, heaving, repeating again. "Enough," then with a slight nod, said, "Better."

Ash was panting just as heavily, as I approached them, I could see the sweat glistening off her face, even some tiny chunks of ice buried in her tousled white locks. Yet her piercing green eyes bore no signs of the fatigue she was showing.

By my rough guess, their little skirmish couldn't have lasted well past five minutes. It was so short, so brief, and yet so terrifying to behold all the same.

"And yet…" Dad continued to say, dropping his arm to his side, and relaxing his stance. "You were still holding back on me, weren't you?" 

Ash dropped her shoulders, maintaining her stare on his. "As were you," she replied. "I feel it is only fair to do the same." 

"No, it isn't fair," He said. "It wouldn't be fair if I didn't."

So they were both holding back all this while anyway? That fight was them holding back? Seriously?

"Alright, enough," I said, cutting in between them before anyone gets any ideas for more havoc upon the poor innocent field. "You got what you wanted, right? Seen enough for yourself? Care to trust her now?" 

Dad shifted his eyes towards me, raising his hand to his face onto where Ash had landed a clean blow. "She is indeed strong, isn't she? Very strong…"

"She's a lot more than that too, you'll come to find," I muttered quietly. 

"But most importantly, she is strong. Which is good. I can trust her to do what she's meant to do." 

I felt a twitch inside me hearing that. I didn't like hearing that. "Meant to do? Like that's all she'll ever amount to?"

"Master," I heard Ash whisper. "It's okay." 

Dad narrowed his lips, his blue eyes shifting about slightly. "That is not what I meant."

"So what did you mean, then?" 

And at that, he finally looked away from me. "I don't know." 

"Do you actually trust her after this? Especially after all this?" 

"I don't know." 

"Then, just who is she to you, Dad?" I asked, trying to get him to look at me again. "Just what is she in your eyes? Still just an Elf? Will that ever change? What did you do all this for anyway?"

I didn't care what the answer was, I just wanted one from him, and I wanted one now. But as always, the way he was, he did as he wanted, not as he was told. 

Dad brushed me, walking back to presumably continue his routines, still muttering those same three words. 

"I don't know."