As it so happened, the two sides werenât evenly matched at all. Their numerical advantage aside, the villagers seemed to completely outclass the raiders in both skill and the quality of their weapons. Hell, even if their numbers were reversed, Percy was confident âhisâ people wouldnât have struggled much.
Within mere minutes, over half of the invaders were dead, gutted like fish by the sharp slashes of the villagers. At least, Percy had to give credit to the survivors as they showed no intention of surrendering. They probably reasoned that it was better to die here than to go back to the jungle. After all, everyone could see the vines already swaying in unrest in the distance.
âIâm the only one still taking my timeâŠâ
he smiled bitterly, as he looked back at his opponent.
He was a man seemingly in his thirties â
maybe,
though Percy wasnât an expert on these peopleâs physiology
.
He donned a crudely forged cutlass, its edge dull and its blade covered in dried bloodstains. Evidently, Sengoâs advanced crafting techniques werenât quite as widespread as Percy had originally thought. Of course, he could have defeated the raider already, had he put his heart into it. However, Percy was still struggling to rationalize killing a stranger just to help more strangers.
âLetâs try to learn something in the process, at least.â
As early as their first exchange, he had noticed an impulse to move and react in a specific manner â in a way he wasnât used to. Apparently, his hostâs muscle memory bled into his own combat instincts, driving him to switch up his fighting style.
Percy could have easily resisted the impulse and made quick work of the man if he wanted. After all, he had plenty of experience himself. Besides, it wasnât like Mickyâs fighting style was any inferior to the localsâ. But he didnât do that. He was curious to see how Takeo fought.
The Dance of the Savage Gods involved a lot of exaggerated movements and quick footwork. Its central concept was achieving dominance over the battlefield, wearing down an opponent with multiple opportunistic blows. The nativesâ style on the other hand couldnât have been more different. It involved much smaller movements, focusing on the delivery of sharp, deadly strikes at an opponentâs vitals.
âThis style might be more compatible with my soul affinity.â
It was easy to see why. Both worked better with sharp weapons and were best at ending a fight in an instant. Recognizing the value of this art, Percy allowed himself to sink into Takeoâs memories as he entered a kind of trance.
His enemy tried to cut him open with the cutlass, but Percy wasnât in a rush to fight back, merely sidestepping the blows one after the other, waiting for an opening of his own. Some of the attacks
did
come dangerously close to injuring him, but he didnât care too much. Worst case scenario, his clone died a couple days sooner.
âThere.â
Percy thought after seeing the man overextend.
Taking a step forward, he swung his katana as swiftly as he could, barely stopping an inch before his opponentâs neck. The raider stumbled back, swallowing a lump of saliva after realizing how close he had come to losing his head. Though he frowned a second later, upon seeing Percy hadnât tried to finish him.
âAgain.â the latter said, gesturing at him to stand.
The man complied, soon engaging Percy into another round. The two fought for several more minutes, as the young man continued to use the raider as a whetstone, trying to mix and consolidate Mickyâs and Takeoâs styles in an accelerated manner.
His body was weaker than he was used to, but not as bad as it could have been. While at Red, Takeo had clearly pushed himself to his limits. In fact, Percy was confident he could have used Circulation with it if he had a functioning core and the necessary channels cleared. Though there wasnât any need for that right now, as he had plenty to learn from even the mundane bout.
Dodge after dodge, slash after slash, his body oscillated between the two styles as he circled the raider and pivoted on his feet, trying to use the dance to create opportunities for the finishers. As for his opponent, he was constantly on the backfoot the entire fight. That said, he seemed to have calmed down after a certain point, realizing Percy had no intention of killing him.
âStop.â the man spoke eventually, raising his hand.
Percy barely halted mid-swing, only now registering what was happening. The other villagers had long finished their own opponents and were all gathered around him, giving him strange looks.
âWhy?â the raider asked again, clearly as confused as the rest of them.
âIâm not going to kill you.â Percy shrugged, before sheathing his weapon. âThough I donât really care what the others do with you. After all, you
did
attack us.â
Turning around, he headed for his house, but not before tossing his father a glance. Sengoâs expression was cold as ice, probably realizing that Takeo was acting out of character.
***
Percy watched silently as Sengo hammered the red-hod lump of iron, losing himself in the rhythmic sound. Every now and then, the old blacksmith would dip the metal in water to cool it, before using a brush to coat it in a layer of clay mud. According to Sengo, this treatment would prevent the sword from rusting.
Next, Sengo placed the lump back inside the forge to reheat it, before resuming the tempering process. Each time, he folded the thinned sheet back onto itself, forcing more of the impurities out with each cycle.
âNo wonder itâs so much stronger than what we have back home.â
They actually
did
have steel back on Remior, the idea of fusing multiple metals into alloys not being that foreign to them. However, Percy was willing to bet they hadnât perfected the process to this degree. Sengoâs work bordered on obsessive.
Once he was done, Percy watched the man sharpen the blade against a rotating grindstone, powered by heat like all of Sengoâs tools. Soon, an intricate wavy pattern took form along the edge of the katana. It was probably only a side-effect of the forging process â not there intentionally. Still, that didnât detract from the swordâs beauty at all. It could probably fit inside a gallery just as well as it could on a battlefield.
âItâs remarkable what he has achieved with the most common of materials. Maybe the philosophy behind it can be applied to my own constructsâŠâ
Percy thought.
Of course, it wasnât the same, as his spells were made of mana, not metals or stones. Still, he did have some ideas as to how he could approach this when he returned.
But Sengo hadnât finished quite yet, breaking Percy out of his thoughts as he attached a wooden hilt to the blade. Next, he wrapped it in a thin strip of cloth several times, forming a vertical pattern of diamonds. Finally, he checked the sword one last time, hammering it some more here and there, to straighten any lingering imperfections along its length. As for a scabbard, he didnât seem to have one ready, so he just rested the sword on a cushion before turning to his âsonâ.
He appeared like he wanted to speak â to explain something perhaps â but he ultimately remained silent. His eyes wavered for a moment, before he averted his gaze entirely. Even looking at Takeo was difficult.
âHe knows, doesnât he?â
Percy realized.
Sengo hadnât spoken a word since the altercation with the raiders. While Percy had never found the courage to tell him the truth about his son, the man seemed to have figured it out on his own. After all, what sort of father wouldnât have noticed something like
that?
âI should still explain everything clearly. Itâs the least I can do after everything heâs taught meâŠâ
he decided.
Though he didnât get the chance.
A tremor suddenly shook the house, as Percy heard a couple of screams coming from outside. Both he and Sengo rushed to the window, trying to understand what had happened. The sight before them was horrific. Multiple tendrils as thick as a treeâs trunk had sprouted all over the village, all of them covered in countless thorns. The demonic vines lashed at any building within their reach, trying to tear the cement walls down one blow at a time.
The sound of something breaking came from behind them, as Percy and Sengo both turned around, only to see another of the tendrils digging out right in the middle of the workshop.
âFatherâ and âsonâ both clenched their weapons tightly in their grasp, ready to face off against the demonic jungle.