The morning dawned cold and clear, the sky a brittle blue over the endless sweep of the Kylian Plains. News had spread through Kylia City like wildfire: the two Valor siblings, Viskov and Kylia, were sparring just outside the city walls. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, a considerable crowd had gathered. Soldiers in their blue uniforms, city officials in their finery, and even a few daring civilians huddled together, their breath misting in the frigid air. The apartments of Kylia City loomed behind them, a silent, watchful audience.
Viskov stood at the edge of the designated field. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his violet wings, feeling the familiar ache ease. Clad in simple, dull-toned clothes that did little to mask his powerful frame, he cut a feral figure against the backdrop of the city's modernity. He knew that any strenuous activity would likely shred his attire, revealing more than he intended, but he couldn't be bothered with such trivialities. Across from him, Kylia strode confidently onto the field, her tailored dark-blue uniform rippling in the wind. Her blue hair fluttered, her blue eyes sharp and focused.
3.4 meters apart they faced each other, the wind whipping around them, tugging at their clothes and hair. The vastness of the Kylian Plains stretched around them, emphasizing their isolation. Viskov felt a surge of anticipation, a thrill that had been missing from his life for far too long. It had been decades since he last engaged in a real fight, and the prospect of testing his skills against his sister was exhilarating.
Kylia grinned, a flash of white teeth in the cold morning light. "Last chance to back out, brother," she called out, her voice carrying easily on the wind. "I wouldn't want to bruise that pride of yours."
Viskov snorted, a plume of vaporous breath escaping his lips. "You talk a lot for someone who's about to eat dirt. I am 123 years old. Are you afraid of getting beat down?"
A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the crowd. The tension was palpable, the anticipation almost a physical presence.
General Odin, stiff and formal in his uniform, stepped forward, raising a gloved hand. "This is a friendly match," he announced, his voice clear and commanding. "No lethal force. The first to yield or be pinned for a count of ten seconds loses. Begin when ready."
Odin retreated, leaving them alone in the center of the field. For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
BOOM! The silence shattered as Kylia lurched towards Viskov at supersonic speeds. She appeared to be a blur of blue against the muted landscape. Years of training and war had honed her natural abilities into something formidable. She closed the distance between them in 0.01 seconds, pretty much an instant, debris flung around her. Her fist shot out, aimed for his midsection, but Viskov, relying on his superior age and experience, sidestepped the blow with ease.
"Not bad," Viskov mocked. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Kylia pressed the attack, exited mach speed, turned around and delivered a roundhouse kick. Viskov blocked with his elbow, but was still pushed back a couple meters.
Kylia's grin sharpened as she performed a feint to the left, then pivoted on her heel. Her hands blurred, drawing a fan of razor-edged shuriken from hidden compartments in her uniform sleeves. Each star-shaped blade gleamed coldly in the brittle light, tethered to nearly imperceptible steel wires coiled at her belt.
"Let's see you dodge this," she taunted, wrists snapping forward. Fifty projectiles fanned outward at bullet speed in a lethal constellation. The crowd gasped as the attack unfolded in an instant. To the Valors, the attack was nothing really special.
Viskov's wings flared, scattering frost-kissed air as he backflipped. Shuriken embedded themselves in the frozen earth where he'd stood, wires crisscrossing into a glinting web. Kylia yanked her wrists inward; the mesh contracted with a metallic shriek, aiming to ensnare him mid-air.
Viskov laughed as he was twisted into the trap. His left top wingtip grazed a wire, sending sparks skittering. Before the strands could fully constrict, he channeled his strength into his wings. The wings extended outwards, snapping the wires with ease.
A dozen wires fractured near their anchors, whipping back toward Kylia. She danced aside, but Viskov exploited the opening: seizing a severed wire, he spun it like a whip, lashing it at her ankles. Kylia vaulted over the strike, only to find him already repositioned—his heel aimed at her ribs.
"Predictable," Viskov growled as Kylia barely parried the kick, skidding backward through frostbitten grass. The remaining wires lay scattered between them, glittering like a spider's discarded web.
Viskov's Valor eyes suddenly sped up, resting his hand on his hilt, he took a quick glance at Kylia and announced, "Xa, xa, xa, …My turn."
Viskov drew out his saber from the leather scabbard at his side. Taking a breath, he readied his saber at waist level. To the crowd's astonishment the air near Viskov's saber began to shimmer, covering the blade with a white glow.
As Viskov began to swing, the tip of his blade flared with a blinding white light, as if he was swinging a star. Completing his swing yielded a 10 meter 1,000,000 degrees celsius plasma slash, a blazing arc of searing energy cutting through the cold morning air. The attack was unlike anything Kylia had ever seen. She barely managed to twist aside, feeling the heat singling the edge of her uniform made from her own hair. Her breath caught as the plasma blade scorched the ground where she had stood moments before.
Viskov sheathed his sword as he began to preach to the crowd. "Our Valor eyes have a special nature of seeing details and colors other species cannot dream of. Our ancestors from thousands of years ago discovered that there is an energy all things have in the world, both living and dead."
Viskov's hand gestures quickened as the reverence toward his ancestors in his voice grew. "They named this energy Rod. Valors are the fastest flyers because we can use Rod instinctively. Valors are also one of the strongest beings in the world because our Rod is the brightest, brighter than others by thousands of times. Valors can also cultivate control over Rod, to bring it out of the body consciously. However, if your Rod becomes too dim, there is a risk of death. The Rod of living things is stronger than that of dead things."
The Kylian civilians, seemingly enlightened, erupted in chatter. Some gave Viskov envious stares, contemplating their fate of being weak. Others spoke among themselves about cultivating control over their own Rod to at least gain some power.
Kylia stared at both groups with indifference. Squinting at Viskov, his insides did indeed appear dimmer according to the descriptions he gave out, meaning he did indeed use a certain amount of "Rod".
However, what Viskov described as Rod in Kylia's view was just a mix of electromagnetic energy and thermal energy. All things with mass has a certain amount of electromagnetic energy and thermal energy, but living things create more because of cellular processes.
Although Kylia does not know exactly why Valors have such a powerful cheat body with immense amounts of energy, she does know that Valor cells are somehow able to control energy. For other lifeforms, trying to cultivate Rod would be next to impossible without some sort of black technology.
Kylia theorised that Viskov's slash was created by drawing in air with electromagnetic fields then superheating it with the immense thermal energy in his body. With Viskov's level of knowledge, it would be a miracle to make a blob of the plasma in his slash, let alone shaping it. Kylia however, knew the actual physics behind Viskov's "special" ability.
Kylia then started to copy the same actions as Viskov, she glanced at her hand on her hilt. With a humans limited color range of three cones, nothing seemed to have changed, only with the myriad of insights Valors have could one see what was really going on.
From Kylia's hand, electromagnetic fields lashed out, drawing ionized air towards her blade. Then the frequency of the electromagnetic fields synchronized with that of air molecules, heating the air to tens of thousands of Celsius within microseconds.
No wonder why it took Viskov 100 years to cultivate control over his "Rod"! Just getting the frequency to heat air (~10¹³ Hz) would be nearly impossible for someone who had never studied dielectric heating. Or studied a microwave.
In the time of 12 milliseconds, the plasma sheathe around her blade grew to a frightening 10 million degrees celsius, threatening to melt both the sword and anything around it. Kylia sighed as her control over her "Rod" was already nearing its limits despite only using one eighth of her full strength.
Afraid of the amount of energy she held at arms length, she accelerated the motion of swinging her saber to Mach 1 and extended the electromagnetic field surrounding her blade as far as she could.
"How...?" Viskov stammered, wings bristling defensively before decisively he shot up into the sky away from the predicted target zone.
Less than a second later, a horizontal 100 meter 10,000,000 degrees celsius plasma slice passed right through where Viskov had been. The slash of destruction traveled 100 meters before dissipating. What was left was an area of 10,000 sq meters of ground being evaporated off the surface. Had Viskov not moved, he would have been cooked, literally.
The crowd was silent, utterly stunned. The air still crackled with residual heat, the scent of ozone biting at their nostrils. Even General Odin looked pale, his hand gripping the hilt of his own sword. Kylia stood amidst the devastation, her uniform unblemished, her face serene. The blue of her eyes seemed to glow with an inner light.
"Show off," Viskov grumbled, descending slowly, his wings working hard to keep him aloft. He landed a safe distance away, his usual arrogance replaced by a healthy dose of respect, and perhaps a little fear. "That… that was ten times more powerful than mine! And a hundred times larger! How did you even…?"
Kylia shrugged and boasted. "My comprehension goes against the heavens!"
Viskov frowned, glancing around suspiciously. "Comprehension? For the long lost mother of us all, Hylia, екстраполюй мою дупу! How!"
Kylia made cultivation seem as simple as drinking and eating! Did she cultivate in the womb?
"BOOM!" Before Viskov could think any further, Kylia rushed in for a second round of fighting.
Kylia, emboldened by her learning a new power, pressed Viskov relentlessly. With her saber raised above her she poised to take a downwards slash at Viskov's position. Viskov, not waiting for death, accelerated to mach speed within an instant, resulting in Kylia's plasma slash passing by Viskov's face.
A 5 meter wide, 10 meter deep and nearly 100 meter long trench of molten rock with steamed melted snow formed where Kylia had struck. The crowd retreated, the previous attacks the two made were intentionally performed in a way not to hurt them. With the two Valors serious, it would be foolish to linger. A casual strike from Kylia could now vaporize hundreds.
Viskov, initially shaken, quickly recovered. He relied on his century of combat experience which trumped Kylia's recent and rapid power scaling.
"BOOM!" Viskov shot towards Kylia, saber now sheathed. Kylia scoffed at Viskov, all he was doing was making himself an easier target.
"You really do seek death!" Kylia shouted as she sent a horizontal slash towards Viskov.
"Oh really?!" Viskov grunted out while using Rod power (electromagnetic energy control plus thermal energy into a propelling plasma) to flip onto upside down in mid-flight within an instant. Kylia's plasma slash passed underneath him, harmless, as he continued towards Kylia.
Now it was Kylia's turn to be panicked. It takes at least 12 milliseconds for her to perform a plasma slash and Viskov was already not too far away from Kylia to begin with. Viskov was too close, she was left no chance to counter attack.
Viskov closed the distance and grabbed her. He threw her to the ground before pinning Kylia. He struggled, muscles screaming, to keep her pinned. Ten seconds. They stretched on forever. Nine... Eight... Seven... Then, with a final, desperate surge, he pushed down with all his might.
"Ten!" General Odin bellowed, his voice echoing across the plains.
The crowd cheered. Thousands of square meter land was now stripped of snow and in smoldering ruin. Near naked Viskov collapsed beside Kylia, his chest heaving, his body trembling with exhaustion. His clothes had been all torn up during the battle.
Kylia rolled away from the indecent Valor.
Viskov, seeing this, barked a laugh, a sound that was weary and triumphant. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand to his sister. "I, the eldest brother, Valord for Viskov, recognize your strength!"