Chapter Text
Sword collapsed onto the training mat, lying down. His linked sword clatters onto the ground next to him. His muscles ached, sweat made his clothes stick to his skin, and his body was bruised all over from the jabs that Venomshank had gotten on him with his dulled venomshank.
“Sword.”
Sword snapped to attention as his fath- mentor called his name. He sat up, wincing as his legs screamed from the strain. “Yeah?” he said between labored breaths. It had been another sparring session with Venomshank, and they always drained the energy out of Sword. This time, they’d been running through simple drills and maneuvers.
The deity regarded the ruffled appearance of the Inphernal, before he spoke again. “Let’s do that again. Your reaction time to the vertical slash I made was late.”
Sword let himself fall down against the training mat again. “..ugh, can’t we stop for a second? I need to catch my breath,” Sword groaned. Venomshank (completely unaffected by the training) shook his head at his student’s complaining. “You know I’ve been training you to attend the phights to become an official Phighter, yes?”
“I know, but like– there’s so long until the deadline to apply for the qualifiers! Can’t I just break for five minutes or something?” Sword grumbled as he sat back up. He ruffled his wings, straightening the nest of unruly feathers. “...and did you forget the deadline is two weeks from today?”
Hold on, what? “Wait, didn’t you say that the deadline was like, two months away?” Sword stammered. The student and mentor were quiet for a tense moment, before Venomshank heaved a heavy sigh. “...Sword.” The said Inphernal groaned. “...dammit.”
Sword had forgotten the date– he’d been sure it was two months away. He must’ve forgotten. Venomshank rubbed his temple, resting the point of venomshank against the ground. His eyes narrowed behind his mask, the green glow flickering. “That means more training for you. Apparently the reason for your mistakes was because you weren’t taking training seriously.” he tapped the edge of the venomshank against Sword’s helmet, the metal clang ringing through the room. “...ah, fine.”
A quick flurry of movement, and Sword's linked sword clattered to the mat. “Late again. The vertical slash gets you every time.” Venomshank stood tall, his blade still raised. Sword pushed himself up, wincing slightly, a familiar ache in his legs. "Again," Venomshank stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Sword nodded, retrieving his weapon. The room filled with the sounds of their breaths and the strike of metal on metal once more. Another clash, another parry, the movements practiced and precise.
Venomshank handed a flask of water to Sword, who grabbed it and took a grateful swig. “Ugh, that was really intense.” Venomshank slid the venomshank into the sheath by his side. “You did well. Better than you did earlier. It seems you’re taking training more seriously now.”
Sword took his linked sword, which was leaning against the wall, and slid it into the sheath on his back. “...I mean, now that I’m aware of a two week deadline instead of a two month deadline until the qualifiers, yeah.” Sword mumbled.
Two weeks. He had two weeks to get ready for the qualifiers. He had thought he had so much more time, and now he was scrambling to prepare. He took another swig of water, then set the flask down. “Uh…so what's the plan for these next two weeks?" he asked.
Venomshank crossed his arms. "More training, of course. We’ll be practicing with spars. You do well on everything, but your reaction time is terrible." Sword winced, but tried not to let the words get to him. Venomshank allowed an awkward pat on Sword’s back.
“..don’t look so glum. You’ve been training since I took you in. You’ve been doing quite well this past month. I can see the visible improvements.” Venomshank paused. “Get your reaction speed up, though. Can’t have you beaten in the first round just because of a vertical slash.”
“..will you stop bugging me about that?” Sword mumbled, shoulders slumping. Venomshank chuckled. “Let’s keep going. We’ve still got a while until we open the forge.” Venomshank pulled his blade out of his sheath again. Sword obliged, reaching behind his back to pull his linked sword out again.
Without warning, Venomshank's blade flashed, a sudden, brutal thrust aimed at Sword's face. Sword’s eyes widened. “What the heck–” Panic spiked. Sword reacted on instinct, barely dodging. His wings flared out, pushing him upwards as his body spiraled into the air. He swung his linked sword out in a desperate parry. The force of the swing somehow caught Venomshank, who’d been pulled up in his momentum, sending the deity tumbling backward into the ground.
Sword landed on the ground less than gracefully, stumbling over his feet.
“...what was that?” Sword muttered to himself, eyes wide as he stared at the sword in his hand. He looked back in front of him, Venomshank on the ground, his venomshank knocked out of his hand. Sword could vaguely remember how this had happened— his panic as Venomshank thrust his blade at his face.
“..that wasn’t expected.” Venomshank remarked as he pulled himself up from the ground. “Perhaps I should train you to use your wings during a Phight. Wings could bring a great advantage to you if you use them correctly. Only if you feel it’s necessary, of course.”
If that maneuver alone could knock down a deity, who knows what Sword could do if he were in an actual Phight, against other Inphernals? Phighters? “I think so, yeah.” Sword finally replied. “..and yes, I’ll put the effort into it. Jeez.” Sword added.
[ yes, the part where sword flies up and swings his sword is my attempt at incorporating his in-game charged Q ability. ]