Sakaar's Return
Sakaar's Return: "The real weapon isn't a man's sword. Nor his bow or arrow."
The two men walked round in circles, facing each other, one waiting for the other to strike. The younger of the pair looked apprehensive, bending slightly as he mentally prepared himself for a sudden forward thrust. The second older man simply walked up straight slowly, displaying a calm countenance as he kept his eyes glued to his opponent. From one's observation, it would have been clear the younger man appeared to have been quite eager to engage with his older opponent. One could almost smell the determination in his person. His partner, on the other hand, seemed quite nonchalant in his approach. At the same time, he looked like one who mustn't be underestimated even in the slightest way. His stunning lilac-colored eyes carried untold experiences that couldn't help but display themselves to those who looked in.
That became quite obvious when his young opponent drew his sword and charged suddenly with impressive agility. The older man just watched, with a bit of amusement, not even bothering to draw his own weapon. Holding his sword up at an angle, the young man let out a short vocal burst as he made to bring his weapon down on his opponent. Having not moved an inch, the older man simply gazed at the swinging sword until... it struck metal. The piercing sound was unmistakable. The young man's eyes widened as he immediately began to wonder how his opponent drew his sword without him even realizing it. With the young man in a dazed state, his opponent wasted no time. His movements were quick, decisive, and completely took the young man by surprise. His left forearm had blocked the hit from the young man's blade, and with his right hand, he quickly knocked the weapon away while slamming his elbow into the young man's chest. All in a single fluid motion.
The young man stumbled back, grunting in pain. The older one finished the move with swift, sweeping kick to the ankles of his opponent. The momentum was enough to sweep the young man clean off his feet. The grunt became slightly louder as he hit the ground with a loud thud. The older one, with his hands behind his back, strolled leisurely to the disarmed man sprawled on the grassed floor. "You lasted more than 3 minutes today. That indicates progress." The young man grimaced as he propped himself up with his elbows. "How come your hand isn't severed, Orion? You didn't even draw your sword," the young man said curtly. He drew deep breaths and squinted up at the victor. "Careful now, young prince. I do not appreciate that tone." The one called Orion dropped to his haunches and glared at the young man. He couldn't disobey the King when he requested that his best swordsman tutor his son. But he was definitely not going to pamper and spoil the boy the same way he was already by his parents and everyone else. Becoming a skilled swordsman was something that required extreme discipline and commitment, qualities that he was going to beat into the boy's head if necessary. Oh, he might get reprimanded for his methods, but the King should have already known that before he assigned his son to him. Besides, he hadn't tutored anyone in years now. All this was becoming new to him too.
Orion drilled deep into the prince's brown eyes until he looked away in discomfort. He was just about to mention how tough the next couple of days were going to be when the sound of a galloping horse caught his attention. Orion turned to look behind him. Racing into the King's gigantic courtyard was a Messenger of the Palace. Orion could tell from the distinctive blue and golden colors on his patterned uniform. What Orion didn't understand was why he was riding at such speed. The dust cloud behind the horse was thick with brown powder from the earth, and he wasn't even slowing down as he got closer. "Keep practicing," he said to the prince as he stood. "We shall continue some other time."
With that, he turned to face the incoming rider. Just a few feet before him, the rider finally wheeled his horse in, slowing it down to a trot, then finally bringing the animal to a stop just inches from the on-looking Orion. "Casgor Orion, your presence is highly requested of, by orders of his Imperial Majesty." Orion, on his part, kept his indifferent expression obvious to the Messenger. "It is imperative that you come with me, sir. We're under attack, and the King believes you're our best hope." That almost did the magic; Orion's indifference evaporated a bit. But he still didn't budge.
"Who'll have the insanity to attack the most fortified kingdom amongst the 4 Realms? We'll have them all dead before they march up to the gates." "This threat doesn't march on land. It desolates from above, from the skies. It has already devastated our neighboring cites, wiped out our men who attempted to kill it, and it's now headed our way." Orion's heart immediately began to pound furiously. Surely it can't be-- "Yes, Orion." The Messenger read his mind accurately. "Sakaar is awake. And he's coming."
