The Lightning Mage

45 | The Basics of Enhancer Magic

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Ten scars.

She survived ten minutes of non-stop barrage. Her parrying skills were getting better by the week, but it was still a miserable, one-sided fight.

Twenty-seven scars.

Spotting an opening for a split second, she stomped her foot down, made a swing for it—and landed her first-ever strike.

The Masked Ninja neither flinched nor made a sound. Her body was slammed onto the wall shortly after.

Fifty-two scars.

Their sparring session took thirty long minutes. A good amount of blows were delivered, and she reveled in the fact that he might end up with a spread of bruises all over his body.

Sixty-eight scars.

After her wooden stick was knocked out from her hands, she continued the fight for almost ten minutes, blocking with her arms and punching her fists out sporadically.

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One hundred scars.

Sin-Ni sat down in the middle of the room, cross-legged and focused. Her phone was propped up against the shelf, its screen—dark and unresponsive—faced her like a mirror. As she stretched her arms, her eyes remained transfixed on her reflection.

Ponytail unkempt, muscles lean but toned, and a face painted with blemishes; the time she had spent here really showed.

Slowly, she lifted her shirt. The sight of the scars was so disfigured, so revolting, that it made her gag.

One hundred.

She had survived one hundred slashes across her body. That was three freaking digits worth of scars. She didn't even know how that was even physically possible. Her body must have gotten used to them.

Sin-Ni clenched her fists. She was ending this today. No more.

The door opened with a slam. Holding onto the stick, she scrambled up and faced her familiar opponent.

The Masked Ninja waltzed into the room. Instead of taking his usual weapon by the door, he swung out two metal swords that were strapped to his back.

"Let's try out something new today, shall we?" he said, tossing her one of the swords.

A pang of annoyance hit her just as the new weapon landed on her palm. Was he changing things up because she had been so close to beating him last week? She let out a soft groan of protest while waving the sword around. It was a lot heavier than the wooden stick. Her grip tightened. Whatever, she was still going to win.

Like always, the Masked Ninja commenced his attack without warning. But Sin-Ni's reaction time was already primed for this. Their swords smashed together, its impact was much heavier—and louder—than she was used to.

She held on, keeping her focus on blocking the vigorous onslaught. A windstorm, no matter how harsh and turbulent, would always have that short moment of rest, that inevitable slow down in speed, that gradual move away from the middle of the hurricane. She held on, looking out for a break like that.

And there it was. A slight falter in his movement.

Pivoting on her foot, she twisted her body and slashed her sword down.

The Masked Ninja managed to parry. Sin-Ni was not surprised to have her first attempt of an attack blocked, but what did shock her was what happened next: her sword broke into smithereens.