The Winter's Bloom

Part One - Adventurous Hymn {1}

{1}

Warmth In The Iceland

Cold... So cold.

He could sense the frost pierce his skin. How each particle made him shiver under the breeze, how it struck his lungs with no mercy, how it made each breath hurt more than the other. The way it made his guts scream for movement — it craved adrenaline, thirsted for action.

The serenity of the moonlight reflected upon the training grounds, its peace contrasting the incessant blizzard that surrounded the field. Amid the space stood two fighters, their postures resolute with eyes that sparkled with perseverance. Their fists gripped the hilts with power as the frost subjugated their bodies in a harsh embrace, and their muscles tensed out of fatigue. The broken blades scattered on the floor and the wasted dummies only ignited their purpose even more: to determine a winner and declare who would emerge victorious in this hellish practice session.

Within the tension, one fighter found himself distracted due to his gaze fixated on the reflection of his own blade. His disheveled locks, a blend of snow and the moon, resembled the snowfields in the North. The face possessed a blend of masculine and feminine elements, reminiscent of the ethereal beauty of a God. His sharp jawline was prominent, followed by the full lips arched in a Cupid's Bow format; these red compared to the pale cheeks. The nose was thin, with a perfect bridge that went between his eyes. These were like amethyst geodes among stones, a differential among the common.

Tranquility faded after his self-admiration moment ended when another blade clashed against him. The knock-back made him stumble backward, but he was quick to firm his feet on the ground to maintain balance. After the clash, he looked upward, his gaze locked on the dark brown-haired woman's face.

"You are spacing out again, Alexander."

Her voice struck like a cold shower that forced him back to the present. His gaze flipped between the sword and the woman, as he noticed the concern knitted on her eyebrows. As she sighed, he watched her as she pierced her sword into the ground.

Alexander chuckled in secret at her newfound scowl, a smirk spread across his face. "Forgive me, Elena... I guess it just can't be helped." He said, then winked with playfulness.

"What are you laughing at?" Elena gritted her teeth before her frown disappeared. "It's not funny. But fine, just don't keep this behavior."

"At you, of course..." *coughs up* "Sure, sure! I'll behave, for sure."

"What...?" She asked, a scowl creeping up her face. "I'll pretend as if you didn't say that, so I won't have to beat your ass badly."

"Sheesh, it was just a joke—"

"—I already told you, no jokes while we're in the middle of practice."

Alexander paused for a moment as their eyes locked in a silent battle of stares. "Got it, boss." He stepped forward, swinging his sword. "Instead, let our blades discuss this."

To match his advance, Elena pulled her blade from the ground and raised it. "And I'll gladly dance with you again, delightfully."

Instead of replying, he sprinted forward and raised his sword to clash against hers. It slashed downward to meet the other blade in a single strike. "I won't lose this time." He retreated and pushed forward — only to be parried by her sword again.

"You're lacking in your posture, Alex." Elena dodged his attack with ease before she dashed to punch his stomach. "Try not to tense your feet, otherwise it might become a burden."

He resisted the punch by creating a magical barrier, but still failed to prevent the impact. In order to resist the knock-back, His feet sunk into the ground, what made him straighten his posture right after. "Oh? Should I thank you for the advice?"