Garden Of The Abyss - Chapter 472

The next day, with the help of Beatrice, he gathered the Outlanders in the lounge room of the Outlanders’ base within the foundation.

“So…that’s it. I’m forming my own guild,” he finished.

While half of the group couldn’t seem to care less, a few had their own opinions.

“A guild of your own, huh? Normally, I’d have my own reserves, but you seem able to hold your own now!” Sora assured him with a bright smile, slapping him on the back.

Of course, as he stepped forward from the sharp slap, he let out a wry chuckle, “…That’s still a thing, I see.”

Sirius remained silent, but he gave him a reassuring smile and a thumbs-up from his position, leaned against the brick-lined wall of the comforting room.

Though, one person had their opposition to the idea.

“Ren,” Donatien called his name, stepping forward as he fixed the position of his glasses.

“Yeah?”

“Running a guild is a tremendous responsibility. It is your role to make sure those under your guild are taken care of, given proper missions, and protected. Those are lives that will be in your hands, Ren.”

“I’m aware,” he nodded, “Iris and I can handle it.”

Iris added, standing beside him, “Donatien, I know you have your doubts…but, we’re not kids anymore.”

The taut man stood over the snowy-haired man, meeting his singular-eyed gaze as he adjusted his glasses once more.

“If that’s the case, I will need to test your strength for myself, Ren,” Donatien extended, “first and foremost, a guild master must possess strength.”

“Wait, wha–” Iris tried to stop them, but it was too late.

It was that glint in his hazel eye that she knew; unwavering and unfading–once challenged, there was no backing down.

He returned the stern look from Donatien, “Is that it? You’re on, then.”

Even those disinterested in the news of his planned guild formation were now interested at the prospect of a match between the two.

It wasn’t but an hour later that they found themselves in the vast, metallic arena isolated for the Outlanders’ use.

Spectating from the elevated stands, the others watched from above as the two stood on opposite ends.

“I don’t plan to treat you like a child, Ren,” Donatien said as he rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up, snatching his tie from his collar as it came unfurled.

“That’d be your mistake,” he promptly answered, stretching his limbs as he placed his arms behind his back.

Up in the stands, decorated with a sky-blue flag, the crowded balcony was inhabited by the spectating Outlanders.

“Is this alright…?” Iris asked, keeping her hands close to her chest.

“Worried for your mate?” Brahmi nudged her with her elbow.

To her surprise, Iris slowly shook her head, “No…I’m worried about Donatien.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Fai, overhearing her words, butted in.

“Ren…is different from what you remember. Especially in fights,” Iris answered, nervously spinning her azure locks around her index finger, “…something in him changed over the past two years, he takes things too far, sometimes…”

They all watched now as he leaned down, stretching each of his legs as he held a confident smile, jumping back to his feet as he bounced in place, warming his body up.

As he settled down, he met eye-to-eye with Donatien.

“Ready? The match will be over when a critical blow is landed,” Donatien asked, restating the conditions of the bout.

“Yeah,” he answered, tightening his gloves as his loose mantle fluttered over his sable armor, “I’m ready.”

After a moment of stillness, and of silence–they set off.

“Eis: Biting Wave!”

–Donatien immediately began by sending a wave of spiky, quickly-forming ice towards the pale-haired man.

But, by the time Donatien had launched the spell, letting the incantation leave his lips, the man lost sight of him.

“Are you underestimating me, Donatien?” He whispered from behind the navy-haired Outlander.

“What–?” Donatien let out in surprise, turning around to face him.

Just as swiftly as Donatien spun himself around, he witnessed him vanish into the shadows before his eyes, reappearing beside him, midway through a frontal high-kick.

Incantationless magic…?! Donatien thought.

The glasses-wearing, calculating man raised a wall of ice to block the kick, which seemed to be expected as the pale-haired man smiled.

“Woah, that’s cold!” He called out with a smile, moving the sole of his boot away from the shiver-inducing frost.

As he relaxed his guard, he watched as the block of ice shattered in front of him–revealing Donatien midway through a counterattack of his own, holding a spear of ice.

When did he cast a spell? I didn’t hear anything, he questioned.

Using his own reflexes, he leaned back to dodge the end of the frost-formed spear, retaliating with a kick towards the ice mage’s abdomen, though missed as Donatien carried himself backward with a sheet of propelling ice.

However, it wasn’t the kick Donatien had dodged so abruptly with the usage of ice–it was an attack, so swift and sudden that he relied solely on his reflexes to evade it.

A spear of darkness launched past Donatien, missing him by a hair as it flew over his head.

It’s not just his ‘Shadow Step’…he can use lance without incantations too…? Donatien noted.

“Crafty,” he muttered.

Watching from up above, the Outlanders were in general shock at the exchange that occurred from the start of the bout.

“Ren is…holding his own?” Brahmi let out, perplexed by the sight.

“No,” Sirius corrected her, “He has the advantage.”

Sirius held a pleased smile as he witnessed the growth of the pale-haired man, watching him closely with his mystical, magenta eyes.

Amazing, Ren. You’ve grown into a splendid warrior, Sirius thought.

Gaining distance from him, Donatien stopped as a trail of ice existed between the two combatants.

Donatien huffed quietly, puffing out a frosty breath, “…Impressive,” he stopped himself, fixing his words, “no…simply amazing, Ren. As your teacher, I couldn’t be happier at the improvements you’ve made. I can’t take all of the credit, though, you’ve cultivated this strength yourself, without a doubt.”

A rare occurrence–Donatien smiled warmly, looking at him with proud eyes behind the frost-coated lenses of his glasses.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up after seeing that?” He teased playfully.

Donatien smiled with a small laugh heard only to himself, “It may not seem like it, as I try my best to suppress my own vices, but I am a competitive person, Ren. As such, I truly despise losing–especially to a student.”

“Oh, yeah?” He replied, keeping his guard lax as a way to coax the man, “Seems to me you’re going to have to bite that bullet then.”

“Perhaps,” Donatien replied, “I may be competitive, but I am not arrogant. You’re truly a splendid mage now, Ren. I am forced to recognize that fact. As such, I won’t hold out.”

Emitting from Donatien, frosted wind poured out, fluttering his long-sleeved shirt as he removed his glasses and tucked them into the pocket of his pants.

“Eis: Glacial Hail!”

The ice mage sent forth an array of sharpened icicles; it was a move made not with the intent to secure triumph, but to force his opponent into revealing their secrets.

Though he was able to work around the barrage of dagger-sized frost as he stepped into the shadows, continuously and without utterance, evading each of the ice shards without fail as the battle was reset to where it was just a moment ago–both facing off on either side of the arena.

He’s keeping his deck of cards tucked away. Obviously, at the level he seems to be at, ‘Shadow Step’ and ‘Piercer’, two novice spells, are not his complete arsenal. The old Ren likely wouldn’t have hesitated to reveal his hand right out of the gate, Donatien thought, it’s not just mastery of magecraft you’ve acquired, but experience, as well.

Donatien spreaded his arms out, coalescing the frosten mist to his palms, “Skadi: Saber.”

In his hands, lengthened blades made of ice were formed, though they took on a thicker form than usual, resembling greatswords.

“Aren’t blades a bit dangerous for a sparring match?” He asked with a smile.

Donatien answered, honing his gaze, “You speak as if there aren’t a plethora of mages specializing in healing nearby, Ren.”

–It was a challenge, an invitation to broaden their bout into something of higher intensity.

Of course, he obliged.

“That’s a good point,” he closed his eyes momentarily as he placed his hand by his hip, “but, don’t regret coaxing me, Donatien.”

Sliding from his sheath, he drew his longsword out as its spotless steel was revealed to the orange light of the lanterns that lit the private colosseum.

“Are they for real? Isn’t that a bit much?” Fai let out a sigh from on the balcony.

Natalia replied while twiddling her silver locks around her finger, “That’s just how men are.”

“Donatien wants to see how he’s grown for himself,” Sora spoke as he watched diligently, “none of it matters if they’re both holding themselves back.”

“Still…” Charlotte muttered.

Sirius comforted the red-haired girl, patting her head as he smiled, watching alongside them, “Don’t worry, even if one of them gets cut, we’ve got medics on standby, right?”

A wink went from Sirius to Natalia, who rolled her eyes, groaning out of displeasure as she folded her arms across her chest.

“My ability isn’t for playground fights, Sirius,” Natalia said as she honed her eyes on him.

“I know, I know,” Sirius replied with a frivolous smile, “but, if anything happens…”

“I’ve got it,” Natalia caved in, accepting the responsibility.

“As reasonable as ever, Nat!” Sirius attempted to sling his arm around her shoulder, but was promptly rejected as she turned away from him.

Sirius caught himself with a small laugh as he leaned over the balcony railing, returning his focus to the match as the clash of frosted blades and steel had commenced.

He hardly paid any mind to Donatien’s existence; solely keeping his gaze on Ren as he watched the eye-patch-wearing man seem to effortlessly dance around the advances of his opponent.

There wasn’t any intensity to his expression, even in a clash of sharpened tools; his eyes simply tracked Donatien with a small, but noticeable smile as he repelled and dodged each incoming strike with minimal movement.

Even with two, large blades of sky-blue ice in his grip, Donatien was unable to come near landing a blow on his opponent, who read every moment as if it was inscribed on a tome.

Just as I thought, Sirius pondered, you’re still holding out, aren’t you? It seems you’ve reached a level beyond anyone’s expectations, Ren.