As Tate looked at Bastian, awe filled his mind to the brim.
This is it. This is the warrior I have been waiting for.
Tate was afraid of death, but he had already accepted his fate. Now his chance to fall at the hands of a warrior with incredible potential was nigh, so he wanted to take full grasp of it.
Bastian’s ability to completely suppress the blind disaster, only further reinforced Tate’s respect for him.
Bastian on the other hand, was quite unhappy. One could even say he was angry. He was normally the type of person who was passive and hard to anger. But a culmination of certain factors had pushed him past his limits.
First, was the fact that he had spent the past few months being tossed from one place to another against his will. His current soul was the combination of a man from earth and a young pampered noble, thus this was not a pleasant experience for him.
When he thought he finally had control over his life he was then back to where he had started, a slave. In fact, this was worse, for Bastian was positive that if his bloodline had not awakened, he would undoubtedly die. Even though the awakening itself was the main reason he was taken.
Second, was the fact that he had lost out on an opportunity to gain experience in battle. Bastian had no doubt that he would have more opportunities in the future but he at least wanted to broaden his horizons as soon as possible.
Last but certainly not least, was the white haired boy. The poison in his body was the most inhumane thing Bastian had ever heard off. At first, Bastian wanted to kill the boy for stealing his experience, but after learning of the boy’s circumstances, he could not help but change his mind.
These factors had put Bastian in a bad place right and he needed somewhere to vent his anger on, or someone.
“If you are not going to attack I will.”
Bastian’s words were like a slap to the face. This was the second time Bastian had brought Tate back to reality in a short amount of time.
“Hahaha! My apologies young warrior. I was just impressed by how incredible you are. To think you were able to-”
“Shut up! Do you want to fight or not!” Shouted Bastian.
Tate saw that Bastian was not in the mood for idle chatter. With a solemn expression, he gripped his sabre with both hands and got ready to attack.
Let’s see what you can do young warrior. I hope you do not disappoint me.
With a roar, Tate sprinted full force toward Bastian. His heavy feet thumped as they trampled on the bloody floor.
Bastian did not do anything. He merely stood there, with a scowl on his face. He neither took a stance nor did he show any signs of movement. Normally, this would make a person attacking him lower his guard because Bastian did not look as if he would defend himself. Yet for Tate, it was the complete opposite.
Bastian’s nonchalance made him become more vigilant.
Tate swung his large sabre straight toward Bastian’s head. Only to meet air. Bastian had back stepped at the opportune time.
Without feeling discouraged, Tate continued to swing his large weapon with incredible vigor. His incredible strength allowed him to wield such a heavy weapon with ease, like a child wielding a stick.
Although Tate was impressive, from his own point of view Bastian was even more frightening. This was because the time Bastian allowed himself for dodging, was becoming less and less.
Tate knew this was not because he was gaining an advantage. It was quite the opposite. Instead Bastian was catching the timing of the giant’s blows, ending up with him dodging at just the right moment.
All sorts of swings and tricks came from the giant. From cuts, to sweeps, to stabs. Be they horizontal, vertical or diagonal. All motions available to Tate were used. And all were dodged with simple movements. Each more precise than the last.
From side steps, to ducking, to jumping, to back stepping. All used in a rough but precise manner.
What frightened Tate the most was the fact that Bastian’s movements were rough. There was barely any technique to them. It was all instinct. This gave rise to a frightening thought.
If he is this strong without technique, how strong would he be with it?
Tate quivered at the thought. He had swung countless times at Bastian, missing every time, so he could somewhat gauge what he was dealing with. Or rather he thought he could.
From Bastian’s point of view, only disappointment could be felt. He had intentionally slowed himself down, to make this fight more challenging. Limiting himself to dodging only when the sabre was about to strike.
Bastian wanted to use this as an opportunity to improve his reaction speed. Or rather to test its limits. To his disappointment, Tate’s swings became easier to read as time went on.
In order to further increase the difficulty, Bastian would leave himself with less time to dodge each time, and after a few moments his mind and body would adjust.
As far as Bastian was concerned there was no danger. He could kill this man any time he wanted to.
Although Bastian had initially wanted to vent his anger, the dull simplicity of the fight had completely calmed him down. He started gaining back his rationale as time went on.
Although Bastian wanted to end the fight quickly, he not only needed to train, but he also needed to gain the attention of someone in the audience, thus he started using this time to showcase his unique skills.
If only Bastian had known that he already had an owner.
“Hahahaha! The heavens are finally smiling upon me!”
In their private booth Kai and his Master were observing Bastian make a fool out of Tate. Or rather the young man was.
Kai knew that the truly incredible feat was not how the purple haired boy was toying with Tate but how he had suppressed and resisted the blind disaster.
How is he alive? How did he do it?
Kai wracked his brains trying to think of an answer, yet nothing could come up. Kai knew well enough what the blind disaster was capable off. Thus he knew that the implications of such a matter would not be small.
Kai reached into the pockets of his robes, and pulled out a piece of paper with some writing on it.
It was proof of their ownership over the purple haired boy. Kai looked at the piece of paper that had cost them quite a few gold coins. He now knew that it was worth far more than this.
Although his Master was thrilled, whenever he looked at the paper, Kai could not help but have a foreboding feeling in his heart.
Within the many booths that were observing the fight there were plenty of rich people, each with their own servants.
The majority had merely come to observe for leisure, while some had come for the same reason Kai and his Master had. To purchase a fighter!
Tate and Yahd had been the main attraction as far as this match was concerned. Yet now an unthinkable scene was occurring.
Yahd was dead, the blind disaster had been suppressed with a few strikes, and Tate was being toyed with by a purple haired boy who looked no older than 15!
Many of the observers, especially those who had come prepared to purchase fighters, were salivating at the prospect of owning the purple haired boy.
A lot of people, who had only come to observe, could not help but be tempted. It was clear that the purple haired boy was untrained. Yet he was able to make a veteran look useless.
He was neither running around, nor was he defending himself with a weapon. He was using his instinct to dodge strikes by a hair’s breath. Such an action was utterly breath taking.
Many Masters immediately ordered their slaves to go to the owners of the arena, in the hope that they could purchase the purple haired boy.
Yet they all got the same response. A response that made them smack their lips in jealousy.
He already had an owner!
Of course everyone was curious as to who had been lucky enough to purchase such a diamond in the rough. Yet when they all learned who had bought the purple haired boy, especially the fact that he had been bought on that day, angry shouts and insults rampaged in countless booths.
“How? Why him?”
“The heavens do not have eyes! This is a travesty!”
“I will not allow that brat to take such an incredible specimen!”
“Hahahaha, that kid is very lucky, but his luck can turn his misfortune if he is not careful.”
After hundreds of swings, Tate started to feel tired. Sweat was covering the entire top half of his body, and his muscles were aching.
Bastian on the other hand looked no different from when the fight started. It was as if he had not been fighting at all.
This difference in ability between the two had made Tate depressed. At first he was happy that he had found a warrior who was strong enough to meet his standards, and have a final glorious battle.
Yet not only had his standards been met, they had been surpassed. Breathing heavily, Tate stopped his mad rush in an attempt to catch his breath.
Bastian was only a few feet away from the giant, but he made no attempt to take advantage of Tate’s situation. Instead he crossed his arms and spoke words that hurt Tate far more than any weapon had ever had.
“Are you done?”