Boreas

Mark wandered alone, walking on no path but merely where his mind decided to take him. He had reached Wolvendom, a dark forest that, as far as he remembered, was home to wolves but also a place where monsters could roam around.

With a scoff, he stepped in, walking around like an arrow that left its bow, not caring for any paths that were already there. His goal was simple: fight or die.

"Sometimes, it's the thrill of battle that can make a man snap back to reality," thought Mark as he walked through the dark forest.

It was mid-day, but the thick folliage of the forest made for a great place to hide away from the sun. He enjoyed the atmosphere, but something didn't sit right with him. He felt himself being watched, which made his heart beat faster.

"Must be my imagination...or maybe not. Heck, there are wolves and the likes here; God knows what is watching me right now. It might even be Razor, as far as I know."

His muttering was quick, just enough to attempt to put him at ease. The oldest trick in the book for him was to play off any situation, no matter what, and try to keep a positive mindset. Usually, it worked, but when it didn't...

Always moving around, his eyes caught sight of something watching him from the shadows: a pack of wolves. Growls entered his ears before they stepped out, planning to surround him. In response, his eyes flared red, looking at the animals with a ferocity that sent them away, running with their tails between their legs.

"Better to scare them off than to hurt them. Leaving that aside, I think I'm getting closer to the arena."

Minutes of walking turned into past moments as he looked at the arena. Ancient was a word that wouldn't do it justice. Parts of the stone floor had shattered, molding within the ground, filling the cracks with dirt, which reminded him of the Japanese way to fix objects with gold.

On the far side of the wall, carvings that depicted Boreas were contrasted by a pair of blue crystals etched into the wall, making for a pair of eyes.

Rather than rushing in there like a madman, he stepped in with a firm yet respectful step. He wanted a partner to spar with, not someone who would consider him a rude, annoying idiot.

He kept walking to the center of the arena when, out of thin air, a thick coat of fog settled around. Two bright blue lights flashed before him, and the fog turned a darker shade of blue, one that reminded him of storms.

"Who dares disturb my slumber?" asked a voice, one that made Mark's skin crawl.

Something about it had more power than he remembered. It was as if the voice itself had an after-echo that paired with the normal voice, making for an eerie experience that seemed to cool his very being.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance, Boreas, but I came here hoping you'd be willing to spar with me, even if for a while."

Mark's words hung in the air as the fog only seemed to tighten around him, chocking him without as much as touching him. He felt cornered in more ways than he had ever been.

"You came here and disturbed my slumber just to ask me to train you?" growled Boreas, his voice booming as Mark almost went for his claymore, stopping himself before he'd do something stupid.

"Forgive my insolence, Andrius Boreas, but this is the only way I thought I could go about growing stronger."

The fog turned back to its normal appearance, and Mark could finally see Boreas standing before him, a wolf larger than any beast should be. Mark could feel the chill before his instinct kicked in, and, without him even knowing, the power he got from Dragonspine warmed his body.

Boreas looked down on Mark, growling in a low tone, circling him slowly.

"You wish for me, one of the Four Winds, to train you? What do you think gives you the right?"

Mark thought for a moment, considering his words carefully, speaking sternly, hiding any shred of fear he had.

"Nothing gives me the right, but one's desire to grow stronger and protect should be enough to make for a good excuse."

Boreas seemed to chuckle, but Mark wasn't sure whether that was laughter or a way to threaten him.

"Humans, always the interesting beings. There will always be someone like you, no matter where you look."

Boreas leapt away, glaring at Mark as he waited.

"Prove your worth then, human."

Mark strengthened his body, his eyes glowing red as a crimson aura coated him. He took off his claymore, holding it firmly before stepping into a battle stance.

"Bring it on, Boreas."

The wolf wasted no time. He dashed around, moving around Mark, using its claws to slash him from all angles. Even with his increased perception, Mark's body was too slow to use it to its full potential. He could merely block, feeling the weight of each attack.

"Is this all you have? Pathethic..." 

Boreas slammed his full weight into Mark, sending him thumbling across the arena. Mark was barely able to get up in time and avoid a few sharp claws to the back. Using Anemo, he threw himself across the arena, hoping to gain some distance, but Boreas was already following.

"Shit!" 

The wind was his only way to keep an edge, changing directions as he flew, yet it was in vain.

"I should change my strategy a bit. Perhaps getting close and personal?"

With a twist of his wrist, he was now flying towards Andrius, which slightly surprised the wolf. Mark pointed his claymore forward, missing Boreas by a hair's width. He grabbed on to his enemy, forcefully stopping, bringing down his weapon at the same time. Boreas shook himself free, meeting Mark's sword with its claws. They locked, and both were wrestling for control.

"You're an interesting human. My power might be limited, but that doesn't mean I'm easy to take on."

Mark could only smirk as he backed slightly, only to come back with a stronger push. Boreas was pushed back, enough for Mark to step in and strike for the throat.

Boreas growled, encasing his neck in a thick layer of ice, enough to stop Mark's blade from cutting him. He then dashed away once more, and Mark could see traces of Cryo around him.

"You're pretty good, human, but be warned. The same trick won't work twice."

Mark smirked, holding on to his weapon, trying to figure out a plan to go with. He then glanced down at his sword, remembering something he hadn't used before.

"Sure, thank you for the warning."

As he brought his claymore forward once more, he realized that everything besides the moment didn't matter to him. The empty canvas had finally found the colors it wanted, and it was time for him to paint himself anew.

Both he and Boreas leapt at one another, exchanging blows. Mark's spirit burned within him, taking him to new heights. Out of ten blows he blocked, he could strike back one or two. Finally, he could fight back.

Mark's eyes noticed the ice that began forming on the ground, noticing that Boreas could control it far better here than it was shown inside the game. He was forced to stomp as he tried to get closer to Andrius, hoping to shatter the ice beneath his feet.

"Well, come at me then!"

  With all his might, Mark swung once more, cutting through Andrius' claws, earning himself a loud growl, yet he kept his momentum going. From above, he aimed for the throat, which Boreas was quick to cover in ice. 

"I told you this wouldn't work twice."

Mark smirked as his sword went down, changing directions as he threw himself to the side, using Anemo to align himself. His blade ethced itself in Boreas' left front leg, and surprising even him, ice grew around it, trapping it to the floor.

"This is why I always have an ace up my sleeve!"

Andrius forced his leg free, but it was too late. Mark was up in the air, falling like lightning, ramming his claymore inside the wolf's back.

He watched as Andrius dissipated, his voice ringing strongly.

"You won, human. I'm afraid our training ends here, for my body needs time to reform itself."

Mark nodded, putting his claymore on his back.

"Thank you for the training, Boreas. I must say, I only won through sheer luck. My skills are far from where they should be."

Once again, he was met by the strange laughter he had heard earlier, but this time he could feel something different about it.

"I believe two days should be enough to regenerate my body. I look forward to our next visit."

With that, Mark was left alone, watching as the blue crytsals stopped glowing. Silence fell around him, bringing about the same dreadful feeling that he was being watched.

Clapping noises echoed from behind him, making his adrenaline rush.

"Someone was watching me?"

The air grew tense as he turned around and noticed a familiar figure, one shorter than him, with a hat that would be better as an umbrela.

"My my, what a show you put on here. Maybe you won't make this as boring as I thought."

He met Scaramouche's smirk with a glare, the tension between them growing.

"So, Signora failed, and they sent you in her place. I know damn well why you're here."

Scaramouche laughed, watching Mark with a certain disgust mixed with worthlessness.

"Oh, trust me, as much as I hate her guts, she could have held her own against you had she gone all out."

Mark felt his body tense as well; his fatigue was nothing but a thing to leave behind. He grabbed on to his sword, carefully eyeing the indigo-haired man.

"Well, this sure is an interesting situation."