Chapter 54: Mantis

His limbs ached from hours of training and his knees trembled slightly from the fatigue buried deep in his legs. Behind him, somewhere in the trees, he was certain that Sylvaris watched in silence. A chirping rasp echoed from the underbrush and the Mossling stepped into the light.

Its humanoid body moved with a predator’s patience, too precise, too quiet for Alex’s liking. Its arms clacked, black and sharp as obsidian and its head twitched once, then tilted, as if assessing him as potential prey.

He didn’t move, but still the Mossling screeched and lunged.

Alex shifted into position, knees bending, weight dropping low. The first scythe swing carved the air toward his throat, and he dropped beneath it, pivoting on the ball of his foot. The second swing came immediately after, starting high then low. Alex brought his left hand up, and with a flick of will and some aether, his [Shield] spell sprung into place. He din’t make it flat this time, but in a diagonal.

The strike skidded off the angled barrier with a shriek of grinding force. Before the barrier even fully formed, Alex let it dissipate, conserving his aether as Sylvaris had hammered into him.

The Mossling struck again relentlessly. Each movement was a blur, a lash of limbs too fast for any ordinary fighter to follow. But Alex wasn’t simply reacting, and he wasn’t an ordinary fighter anymore. He was able to read the attacks and the flow of the battle. His sight wasn’t blurred, aether and motion danced in his vision and he responded, every movement a communicated word, each twitch a syllable.

Another blow came, and Alex twisted and dropped a [Shield] behind his left shoulder, catching the swing just in time. There was a flash of impact, and a flare of pain through his ribs. The angle of his spell was wrong, he had made it too flat. He corrected himself in the next breath, adjusting his stance as he slipped around the creature’s side.

Then he saw it, there was an opening. He surged forward, his right fist cocking back. He readied himself as the aether around his body began to coalesce. He made his first attempt at the [ Descending Demon Fist].

His arm ignited with raging energy, a violent dark aether which lashed at the air around him. The heat surged through his veins, and for a heartbeat, he felt it. There was a weight to it, the wrath, the fury of the technique. A ghostly image of a large demon arm appeared and moved in tandem with his own, but then it slipped.

The aether buckled, as it was too wild and too unstable for Alex’s control. The energy flickered, vanishing from around his arm, and though his fist slammed into the Mossling’s torso, it only staggered the beast for a second. The bark-like carapace was left with only small cracks.

Alex stumbled back, panting. His hand burned and his limbs twitched, sagging at his side. The martial technique was still beyond him, far too unweildy for his current self. The Mossling shrieked and struck back. The scythe grazed his arm, and blood sprayed. Another cut lanced across his thigh. He winced, stumbling, forcing his breath to slow. Don’t panic. Don’t brute force it.

He backed up and raised his left hand again. A wave of aether danced across his forearm and moved down to his fingers. The Mossling charged and Alex whispered, then his [Flare] ignited. Both scythe blades rushed towards him, one on each side. The Mossling planned to cleave him in two with a pincer strike. The [Flare] spell detonated just in time, not in a huge explosion, but a strong, a blinding pulse of aether and force. The Mossling flinched and stumbled mid-step as its scythes were forced away. Its antennae curled from the flash. The first sign of emotion Alex had seen from the creature.

He stepped in quickly, knowing he didn’t need overwhelming power to actually beat this thing, he just needed precision. His fist collided with the Mossling’s side, and this time, the aether clung to it, feral and invasive. The creature spasmed from the [Burning Strike] that infected its body. Its limbs jerked slightly out of rhythm. Alex hit again, [Burning Strike] aether digging even deeper into the mossling.

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Each blow layered more disruption into its body, making its internal energy flicker. It struck back, wild and uncoordinated, as if drunk on something venomous.

He ducked under a swing, slamming his elbow into its hip, and drove even more foreign energy into its sternum. The feedback nearly numbed his hand but the pulse of demonic aether surged into the Mossling, slowly unmaking the structure of magic that gave it form.

The creature reeled but still sent out a final scythe strike aimed toward Alex’s face. He stepped forward instead of back. His [Shield] spell formed instantly, short and perfectly angled.

The scythe bounced away with a metallic clang. The barrier vanished before it could even fully glow to complete strength.

He twisted, driving one last [Burning Strike] into the Mossling’s center mass. This time, the energy was too much as its body began to unravel, shedding vines and bark fragments to the floor. The beast spasmed, and convulsed before it fell to the ground.

Leaves scattered in the windless air as the creature hit the forest with a dull, hollow thud. Alex stood over it, trembling, soaked in sweat and blood, his shoulders heaving.

He was surrounded by silence, then his notifications flashed.

Sylvaris emerged with his face impassive. “You still flinch with your left foot when you’re off balance, and your form broke in the middle of that second [Wave Shield].”

Alex gave a weak, bloody grin. “Didn’t flinch when it counted.”

A long pause.

“You attempted the [Descending Demon Fist] technique too early. You weren’t ready. You forced it.” Sylvaris crouched in front of him, eyes scanning every bruise, every welt from the fight. “And it nearly cost you.”

“I thought I could handle it.”

“No,” Sylvaris said flatly. “You wanted to handle it. There is a difference. and you know that.”

He sighed, then winced. “So what, I failed?”

“You survived.” Sylvaris stood, folding his arms. “You adapted under pressure. Used your tools intelligently. That matters more than any one technique.” He turned, speaking over his shoulder as he walked a few steps away. “Brute force is the instinct of the untrained. You are no longer untrained.”

Alex did a double take. That… sounded almost like praise. He leaned back, sliding down to lay on the grass, too tired to care about blood staining his pants.

“So what now… rest?” he asked.

Sylvaris gave him a sidelong glance. “Rest is for those who have earned it. You have ten minutes. Then we spar again.”

Alex groaned. “You’re a monster.”

Sylvaris smirked. “Then consider this the beginning of your transformation.”

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