The Masters of Darkness - Season 1

Episode 9: Intense Sparring

Summary: Beatrix begins to train for the upcoming battle tournament.

"Come on, Beatrix, you can hit me harder than that!" Markus taunted, a smug grin plastered across his face. He bobbed and weaved around the spacious garage, the early morning light spilling in through the windows and casting playful shadows on the concrete.

Beatrix gritted her teeth, her hand tightening around the grip of her sword. She was more of a mage than a warrior, but with the looming battle tournament approaching, she had no choice but to train her physical combat skills. In a world where magic was forbidden during tournaments, she had to rely on brute strength and strategy to survive. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she took a deep breath and swung her blade in a fierce arc.

Markus, with his usual reckless abandon, darted aside at the last second, the steel whispering through the air where he had just been. He chuckled, dodging another swing with surprising agility for someone his size. "C'mon, I've seen you take down monsters twice my size! This should be a cakewalk for you!"

Beatrix paused, breathing heavily. The room was filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of birds chirping outside, a stark contrast to the grunts and clangs of their sparring session. She knew he was right. In her normal element, she could cast spells that would have him on the floor in seconds, but here, without her magic, she was struggling to even touch him. The frustration boiled inside her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.

Taking a moment to regain her composure, she observed Markus's movements, his eyes flicking from side to side, searching for an opening. He was a boy of instinct, not bound by the rigid rules of magic. If she could just channel that same wild energy...

With a sudden burst of speed, Beatrix lunged, her sword slicing through the air. This time, Markus didn't dodge; instead, he barreled toward her, using his momentum to slam his body into her side. The impact sent her stumbling, her sword clattering to the ground. "No magic means no holding back," he said with a grin as he offered her a hand to help her up.

Her cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and determination. She took his hand and pulled herself to her feet, ignoring the ache in her side. "You're right," she murmured, her eyes narrowing as she retrieved her weapon. "I can't rely on magic in the tournament. I need to be unpredictable, like you."

Markus clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the training room. "That's the spirit! Now let's try again, but this time, don't think. Just feel the fight."

Beatrix nodded, steeling herself for another round. She knew he was right; over-thinking was her weakness. As a wielder of dark magic, she was used to planning and calculating, but in hand-to-hand combat, she needed to be quicker, more spontaneous. The next time she swung her sword, it was with a ferocity that surprised even her. Markus blocked it with a wooden shield he'd picked up from the corner, the impact vibrating up her arm. She didn't stop, though; she kept attacking, her movements becoming more fluid with each strike.

Their swords clashed and clattered as they danced around the room, their breathing heavy and rhythmic. The sound of metal on metal filled the air, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort. Beatrix felt the burn in her muscles, but she didn't let it slow her down. Instead, she used it to fuel her, to push herself harder. Each swing and parry brought her closer to understanding the raw, unbridled power of physical fighting.

Markus noticed the change in her immediately. His eyes lit up with excitement as she began to anticipate his moves, matching his ferocity with her own. "That's it!" he exclaimed, ducking under a particularly vicious swing. "You've got the hang of it!"