Vetsmon rose from the floor, watching John walk toward him, boots clanking across the metal ground.
He wasn’t sure what the hell John was wearing, but he could guess that it enhanced his strength massively.
Unfortunately it didn’t feel like much to Vetsmon. Of course, it was no issue that it wasn’t strong. On the contrary, the fact that such strength came from a summoner was mind boggling. Vetsmon had fought with knights who exhibited less strength.
Based on the fact that John’s forearm blades didn’t retract, it seemed like he intended to use them. He made a decision and put his own armor on. He wasn’t interested in getting poked full of holes.
When John finally got in range, Vetsmon threw out a punch, his stance low so he didn’t get thrown again.
Despite his punch snapping through the air, John smacked it away and returned a fist. His blade attempted to spear through Vetsmon’s armor, but the plates deflected it with some assisted movement.
Then John’s other fist swung around in a hook, the blade retracting so his metal fist could collide with Vetsmon’s raised arm.
Vetsmon felt the impact on his skin despite the armor dampening it massively. After blocking, he tried to throw in some blows of his own, only to get dodged repeatedly. John was reading all his movements.
Vetsmon knew about John’s predictive abilities. He had spoken with many summoners, some of them having similar Auric abilities that tied in with their intelligence. While all people could use Aura to predict a person’s actions based on the way their thoughts leaked into their Aura, summoners were particularly suited to using such techniques.
But the Order taught him more than just how to fight and survive. Among those teachings were ways to manipulate his own mind so that he couldn’t be predicted, so that his own thoughts couldn’t be used against him.
It worked, to some extent. There had never been a summoner like John before, so Vetsmon couldn’t be sure how well it actually performed.
From the way he was getting read at every turn, it didn’t seem to be doing that well. On the other hand, John’s mind operated at such a high level that perhaps even predicting movements didn’t matter. He could just react that fast.
Vetsmon continued to block and press forward, no longer in a lower stance, his armor’s weight alone able to prevent John from sending him flying. Over a short time, he started finding the limits of that suit’s strength, moving to press his advantages.
He swung his arm wide, his muscles nearly tearing with the strain he put on them. He managed to hook his finger on John’s suit, taking that grip and clenching his fist.
Next thing he knew, John swung his elbow and slammed it right into his temple. His helmet took on most of the blow and yet it still nearly blinded him.
But he maintained his composure, continuing to grab hold of the suit and pull him close.
John delivered several more blows before shifting his body, swinging around Vetsmon’s grip and locking his arm with his body. Vetsmon tilted and his arm strained under the lock, but his grip remained and he didn’t allow John to snap his elbow.
Instead, he lifted John’s body and slammed him down on the metal ground. John didn’t let go until he repeated the slam for the fifth time, releasing the lock and kicking off his body.
Part of John’s suit tore away, Vetsmon’s fingers still closed around some cloth and metal plating. Once John got away, Vetsmon turned to him and charged.
He threw out a punch, and this time, John didn’t avoid it.
He blocked, Vetsmon battering his armor with all his strength. John had to shift with the blows, dents appearing in the suit and the machinery behind it groaning with stress. Vetsmon recoiled when John snuck in his own heavy blows, but short of being stabbed through the heart, nothing could faze him.
For a time they went blow for blow. Vetsmon started hearing cracks in John's suit as his blows got more extreme. Although marks and small dents appeared on Vetsmon’s own armor, it was constructed so robustly that they were hardly blemishes. Even after being repaired, the rest of its scars far outshone what John was doing to it now.
Vetsmon had trained and killed himself in the pursuit of becoming unbeatable.
He was meant to be Undying.
His stamina never ended. Minute after minute passed. For nearly an hour, Vetsmon beat John’s suit into scrap. Sometimes he would grab him and tear away plates of armor, exposing a metal skeleton and making him wonder what kind of technology could build such a thing.
Other times he would be forced to defend. When John launched a flurry of unceasing attacks, chained together with perfect timing and completely shutting down all of Vetsmon’s actions, his predictive skills and sheer strength were showcased. They only got stronger and faster as John used the suit more. Vetsmon could tell that he was still learning, and yet the incredible violence backing John’s actions forced him to understand that John was far from limited to expertise as a ranged fighter.
He suddenly remembered that he hadn’t asked when John last advanced. He could sense power far greater than any other summoner at Authority 8 he’d known. John was comparable to Authority 10 summoners, some of the greatest summoners in the Order.
The sheer amount of Psyka he wielded, too, was amazing. Even through the armor Vetsmon could feel his blows, backed by Psyka and bursting with mechanical force. The amount of strength on display was extraordinary, and yet he’d throw out those blows one after the other with explosive moves Vetsmon had only seen from other knights like himself.
The only downside was John’s armor itself. It had its vulnerabilities, which Vetsmon didn’t hesitate to exploit. If John wanted training data, he’d get some. He knew John would learn from this.
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So he broke him down in every way possible. He’d take the blows and then deliver them with impunity. It was only when half of John’s suit was torn away and destroyed that he suddenly stopped.
John’s fist crashed against his abdomen, and yet there was only the weak sound of metal hitting metal. Although John was still bristling with Psyka, it looked like his armor couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t deliver any more strength.
John just let up, sighing with heaving breaths. His helmet was dented and its visor cracked, but relatively intact when he finally took it off.
He saw John’s face, far more aged than it had been back then. It lacked the same whimsy that Vetsmon had known John for, the same recklessness and carelessness he lived with at the Magisterium.
Life had hit them both hard.
His face was also covered in blood, his mouth and nose dripping with it. Suddenly, Vetsmon remembered that behind that armor, there was still just a summoner there.
Vetsmon sent away his own helmet. The most he had were bruises and muscle strains across his body. He could’ve fought like that for another day, but combat with an Authority 8 summoner felt less than honorable, especially against his friend.
That’s when John lifted his arm, putting it around his shoulder with a heavy hand.
“It’s good to see you man. You hit a lot harder than before.”
Vetsmon was silent for a few seconds before smiling.
“My training at the Order wasn’t wasted.”
“Yeah, I fucking felt it.”
Vetsmon walked with John as he pulled him to the side. Umara and Tana moved to meet them in the middle.
Umara sighed, scanning John up and down.
“So is this how men greet each other now? Beat the hell out of each other till the other can’t stand?”
“Um, it’s actually a male dominance ritual. I won, too.”
“The fuck you did. Put the suit away. Let me see the damage.”
“Tis merely a flesh wound.”
John sent the exosuit away, his clothes being revealed, blood spots all over them.
Umara lifted his shirt to expose the massive purple bruises across his body, some of them bleeding with split open skin.
She cast a spell, a healer’s spell that could reveal internal irregularities. From it she saw four broken ribs and plenty of blunt force trauma to organs.
“Christ, John. You picked a great day to get hurt. Ilinca, can you help me heal him up?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s go to the house. Tana, why don’t you give Vetsmon a tour of the place?”
Umara turned and smiled at them as Feiden came and helped John walk.
Vetsmon smiled sheepishly. He didn’t think he had beaten John so hard. He didn’t react to most of his blows so Vetsmon assumed the suit was putting in more work than that.
The last time he hurt John, he had been severely punished and sent to the Order’s camp, and that was for a broken collarbone, not half as bad as this.
John groaned while everyone walked out of the training room, entering the main building.
“I need a drink after that shit. Vetsmon, go ahead and check out the house by the main building, get your stuff moved in. Tana can bring you to the bar once you’re done looking around.”
“Alright.”
Vetsmon glanced to the side at Tana, who had linked arms with Aria.
When she let go though, she suddenly vanished from his senses. His brows raised, startled when he felt a hand on his arm.
Tana reappeared, looking up at him and slipping her arm into his.
Vetsmon couldn’t help his smile, the two splitting off from the rest of the group and walking outside the main building.
They arrived at the house, Tana’s house.
“This is the place John built me.”
“It’s very nice. Sturdy too, based on the enchantments.”
“Just as sturdy as the main building. He said the walls could absorb a tank shell.”
“I see. By the way, I had a question.”
“Yes?”
He looked down at Tana, feeling those achingly familiar butterflies when she looked back up into his eyes.
“When did John reach Authority 8?”
“Today.”
“You mean…”
“He advanced this morning. That’s why he made the calls to get you here.”
Vetsmon paused, his steps coming to a screeching halt.
“...I feel like an idiot now.”
“Well it’s not like John isn’t insanely violent.”
“But I used my full strength on a recently advanced Authority 8 summoner, and not only am I about to advance to Authority 9, but I just received a Crown and set of Invocations. I’m reaching heights of strength I’ve never thought possible, and I just pummeled a summoner. With my armor on.”
“Did you use those Invocations?”
“No…”
“Then I wouldn’t worry about it. John held back too. If he brought out his SEER Knife, killing you wouldn’t have been out of the question. But it’s not like you guys were going that far.”
“I hardly care about some knife…”
Vetsmon sighed, hearing Tana snicker.
“What?”
“Well, that SEER Knife is no mere knife, but I forget that you’ve been gone for such a long time. Umara told me that he made a worse one too, but he hasn’t shown us or used it. It’s scary to think about, but oh well. Just don’t stress so much. John’s been in far worse positions over the past couple years.”
Vetsmon frowned. He still didn’t care much about what weapons John had. He wouldn’t have complained if he had used his guns in that battle initially. Now, he was wishing that he had, anything to make it a fairer battle than it was.
If those at the Order found out about the battle, he’d never hear the end of it. He’d also probably get pummeled by his superior, who’d want to re-educate him on what a ‘fair’ spar looked like.
Even then, he was impressed by the strength John showed. And above all, his armor failed first, not him. Vetsmon had found its weak spots, and now John knew what to watch out for in a real battle.
He comforted himself with the fact that not even the Order could find out about anything that happened in John’s estate. Then he felt Tana’s pull, glancing at her.
He almost recoiled when she reached up and pulled down his neck, locking their lips together.
When they separated, he just stared at her smile.
“Stop with the frowning and focus on me for a bit.”
“I uh…”
“It’s bad enough you don’t join us at Iron Legion, but then you disappear to an island for a year where I can’t visit. Do you know how frustrating it is seeing those two get engaged and being all lovey dovey day after day while I have to sit here and train my ass off, all so I’m not paranoid about falling too far behind you? And what have I gotten for it thus far?”
Vetsmon remained speechless, Tana pulling him in for another long kiss.
Losing himself, he wrapped his arms around her, letting her jump up and wrap her legs around his waist. They remained there for over a minute, Tana finally pulling away with a wide smile.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be all mine, big boy. Umara’s not gonna be the only one screaming at night anymore.”