My Parasite Skill System

"Enough talk."

That was what had been agreed upon.

'Enough talk' as in what, though?

'Enough talk' as in, let us fight, now.

This took place within the same training ground as yesterday. The place wasn't too narrow or large. It had just the right amount of space he and I would require.

We moved. He, from where he priorly sat, silently brought himself up before going towards one end of the hall. I, already a bit far off on my side of the hall, stopped right there, went, and retrieved my sword before back to my place again.

He proposed I 'produced' another sword from nothing just like I did yesterday; I unfortunately couldn't.

Or maybe it wasn't unfortunate at all. I mean, who even cares? Producing swords thanks to the quests' rewards–I liked it. No rewards awaited me, today.

He and I were placed.

And again: enough talk.

I'll get what I came here for, I thought. My fist held my sword tighter. Could've simply gone and do that with any other guild … but this one's more fun … plus the guide seems to want me here.

So be it.

I need to mimic him.

Doing that, I should be learning from him.

Would you look at him, though. Standing a long ten meters away from me, his eyes turned back cold when his face was to its sternest.

'That the real him? Well. No matter. Where was I again–to mimic him, I gotta get him moving; to get him going. … And to get that freakin', and not frightening at all, statue going off of its stand, I … err, well.

I shook my head. Too much thoughts … equals too much … okay, whatever.

Shaking my head 'again,' I didn't think no more.

With much power, my whole upper body was bent onward. My sword was brought to my hip, pointing onward too. I lowered my knees and went blasting off forward.

My legs and toes impacted the tiles as I'd gone–woosh!–and my hair was pulled backward by the air.

I opened the battle up using <Quick Pace>.

And I was just like an arrow carried on by the quickest of winds.

The ten meters of distance was closed in less than a second or half of itself.

In front of me, he too, lowered his center of gravity, taking on that good old sturdy defensive stance, implicitly saying, 'if you can make it move, the statue.'

He held his sword with both hands, making it stand in between I and himself.

The sword he held was just a sword, if you asked him, I think. To me, it wasn't so. Rather than a sword standing there–there was a wall.

A long and large wall.

And when I should have felt discouraged, in this very instant, I felt my determination grow even stronger.

Going back on things a little: he and I stood facing each other; I darted onward; he defended only–"And, <Chain Attack>!" I cried out, very up close to him.

This was my opening, and I well intended to go very strong on it. I needed to illustrate to that swordsman what I was as well as what he himself was.

I dragged my shoulder and arm before me. And my sword followed. There came a first blow aiming at his sword directly.

I made it clear that wall of a sword only hindered me.

Giving off a surprisingly dull sound instead of a 'clang' the sword proved to be docile. Meeting with my sword of steel, that one of wood didn't fight the push it received.

I inwardly chuckled at how it was docile, yes, but most likely only for now, because I knew it, the sword.

But I didn't precipitate myself. After that man's bokken was gently moved aside, I went back at him with yet another blow.

This one being directed at his right flank–it missed to graze him. My sword was thrust towards his left.

But third blow incoming–with a final swing of my shoulder–my sword was headed to the man's chin–clang!

Right away, I was countered. I immediately felt the mighty shock as it translated into that dull kind of vibrating, going from the lame to the handle of my sword of steel.

If it was yesterday, I'd have been sent flying further away with that decisive attack. Today was different. To prevent my hand from numbing, I armored it with magical energy.

And to prevent my flying further away, I didn't fight the push of his sword. Instead, I went along with it. Going along with it, but mainly leading it with me still, taking advantage of it.

Doing that, I felt just like a slithering snake. I evaded his blow more than blocking it off.

What did that snake then do? It slithered its way behind the big prey with two habile legs–and attacked again.

He only was half-turned and facing me, but he blocked me off again.

Wherever I saw an opening, then, I attacked again.

And wherever he saw an assault coming, he blocked it again.

I tried his legs–they were protected.

His arms–they were protected.

His shoulder–no. His neck–neither. His face–way too high, too complicated. His legs again–not even close to cut them off. His feet–I couldn't, I couldn't. His hands, then?–or his fingers? No, no, no.

But it was fine. All of this was fine. Both he and I could keep going. And so that's just about what I did.

I attacked and he defended. A minute already had passed. Then two, three, four, five, and six followed.

I made sure not to use up too much magical energy. My mana was precious. And as this seemed to be (though it wasn't) a war of attrition, I ensured I could still keep going, always.

I circled around him as he circled around himself. I fought as he fought back.

He only ever fought back, however. That was a problem by me. I didn't like it. If I could get him to, only even once, let him be the one who fights first so that I defend; I would consider it a victory.

Other thing was, I had to mimic him.

What bothered me, though, was that, even at this point, he hadn't used it once.

That skill he used yesterday on more than one occasion, but mostly at the end of his dance, when he just was way too strong against my sword–he hadn't used it still.

Was that because I told him I wanted to learn it? This particular one that I chose? I didn't know for sure, but I guess that was it.

Concealing himself behind these stern and icy looks. Making as though he was both totally detached from this reality and totally absorbed by it at the same time, he must be enjoying it.

Enjoying how he thinks he torments me, right now.

I'd ignored it so far, but by now, as it started to intensify a bit too much, I didn't have the luxury anymore.

My breathing was becoming too much. And from experience, and also by Old's teachings, it means either my mana or endurance runs short.

As I couldn't ignore it any longer, I decided to take my strategy a step further.

By any means, I will make him move.