Alden stared at Alistair.
His intense gaze locked onto the Guildmaster, assessing, ready to perceive even the slightest movement. His body was incredibly tense, and for good reason.
The memory of previous spars flashed before Alden's eyes.
…Snow kicking up in the air, strained grunts, and an immutable strength that crashed into his blade.
Alden immediately snapped out of his daze.
However, it was too late…
The damage was already done.
Alistair's feet kicked off the ground. Within an instant, he had already covered most of the distance separating them. Instead of retreating, Alden stayed calm, leaning into the strike. Sparks flew, and the young man struggled to maintain his footing. His sword shook under the intensity of his father's attack.
The Guildmaster gritted his teeth.
Alden couldn't tell if he was angry or frustrated - a complicated cauldron of emotions bubbled within Alistair's eyes. Alden took a half-step back, transferring the Expert mage's momentum into his own to perform an upward cut.
"I requested a break from my relationship with Cece."
Alden's attack posed no threat to the Guildmaster. He blocked the young man's strike, absorbed it, and countered with the fluid grace of a seasoned veteran. Alden internally cursed, already anticipating that his blow would not land.
The Expert Mage increased the force of his strikes. Even though the short sword was not Alistair's main weapon, Alden knew his father was skilled enough with the blade that he did not lose any of his chilling battle prowess. The result was a flurry of quick movements that he had just barely blocked.
Alden disengaged, retreating a few steps. His chest rose and fell, and vaporous clouds of mist escaped his mouth in great billows. The patches of grass where he and Alistair had stood on appeared dented and flattened.
…That would be the only harm that would occur to the garden.
They were expressly forbidden from using their Magic Class. Both because it was harder to control the risk of injury, and because it would be almost impossible to prevent the backyard from receiving any damage. Which also meant that there was a high chance of Elara's blooms being destroyed.
That was just asking to be killed.
And so, there was a tacit agreement between the two of them not to utilise any magic. Instead, they would settle this using pure, physical might.
Alden noticed that his father made no move to press his advantage. Rather, it seemed he cared more about letting him catch his breath than winning this spar. Alden was silently grateful for that. However, he knew the real reason why the Guildmaster did not strike.
Alistair wanted an answer to his question. And Alden had no choice but to give it to him.
Staring into his father's eyes, the white-haired young man sighed.
Then, he responded as calmly as he could:
"I have not given her the love she deserves. I need to reflect and work on myself first before the relationship becomes any deeper."
Alistair processed his words, expression still inscrutable.
"Can you not grow together?"
He mulled over the question for a few seconds, and then shook his head.
A hint of annoyance and anger sparked to life in Alden's heart.
"Because there is no telling how long I will take. It hardly seems fair for her to spend her whole life waiting for something that could not happen."
"Don't you think it's pretty cruel of you to decide what's best for her? She's her own woman, she can make her own choices."
The Guildmaster's tone turned rougher, harsher, gaze extremely sharp.
"Have you told her you're now Morrigan's successor? Have you told her what you've been doing, and where you've been this past week? Have you told her anything??"
"What do you know about what I've been through? What do you know about what I've experienced and what I've suffered, just so that I could come back here!?"
His crimson pupils gained a deeper hue, the spark in his heart roaring to life
If Alden had been in a clearer state of mind, he would have realised he wasn't angry with Alistair. He was angry with himself. As it was, though, he was in no mood to introspect. Kicking off the ground, the young man barreled towards his father.
Alden internally augmented his body with mana.
Small flakes of snow rushed past him, while strands of his hair whipped about in response to his sudden dash. Bending his knees slightly, Alden delivered a swift strike. The Guildmaster remained composed, increasing the pace of his own movements to deal with the new threat. Their swords locked once more, a sharp clang ringing from the point of impact.
The echo of the collision reverberated through Alden's bones.
It felt like he had just struck a mountain.
He was undeterred, though.
His arms wobbled against the strain.
Sparks flew as their swords fought for purchase. In the frigid cold, Alden keenly felt their warmth.
He took a step back, changing his angle of approach.
He gritted his teeth.
"I've been beaten. Tortured. Abused."
Alden tugged on more of his reserves.
He activated [Haste].
The world around him slowed.
His sword cut through the air.
Just before Alistair could block the strike, Alden paused. He stored as much momentum as his body would allow, before he pounced, diving under his father's guard to perform an upward thrust. Alden activated [Haste] again. The speed of his weapon doubled, heading straight for the Guildmaster.
Alistair's eyebrows twitched.
Then, an impenetrable and invisible barrier formed into existence. Alden's sword struck the magical shield, coming to an immediate halt. All he received for his efforts was the whiplash of suddenly coming to a stop.
"I've had my heart broken, shattered to pieces by a fake copy of her. You talk about fairness… But how is it fair for her to have to love someone like me? Someone so… broken."
For the first time that day, the Guildmaster's expression turned gentle. Suddenly, Alden's anger winked out. Like a damn breaking, all the pain and emotion he had been suppressing burst forth like an inescapable tide.
His eyes welled with tears.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Alden's voice cracked.
His weapon fell to the ground.
The next thing he knew he was being wrapped up in the warm, comforting embrace of his father.
Alistair's large, calloused hands rubbed gentle circles across his back.
"Let it out, Son. Let it all out."