Shifter - Infinite Transformation-Chapter 43: Feral Spar

Clove was not alone when I stepped into the training grounds. Fern was nowhere to be seen, but she must have been there already because I saw two dryads who eyed me with what could only be described as pity.

Their pity was frustrating. Still, their presence reassured me, even if only a little.

"See? He didn’t run away." Clove’s voice resounded, and I looked up to see him scowl at a group of young fae. There were all kinds of fae in the Eserian Grove, but most of the young ones belonged to the Forest Folk and the Flower Fairies. Clove was a unique case among them. He stuck out like a black sheep among a herd of Whitefaer Sheep.

It was just like Fern said.

The young men and women near Clove shrank away as his dark eyes drifted across the group. Only when he turned to the adults was he able to meet their faces without anyone ducking away. That, too, matched Fern’s words.

"Why would I run?" I asked, trying to sound confident yet not cocky. "Do I have a reason to run?"

Clove spun around, flashing a smile that revealed his canine-like teeth. "Dunno. Do you think you have a reason to run away?"

"You’re weird. Not that I hate it." I shrugged. Clove was a little annoying, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. "But the Elders should have taught you how to behave. Acting like a perverted brute won’t help you make friends."

Clove’s smile cracked and faded, replaced by narrowed brows. "What?"

"I don’t know everything about fae culture–more precisely, I realized a while ago that I know almost nothing–but I do know how to behave like a gentleman. To keep quiet rather than embarrassing one of the few people who are willing to stand up for your sake."

His words embarrassed Fern. She might act like they didn’t, but they hurt her when he insinuated that I was going to have more lovers.

The words didn’t matter to me. What mattered was that they hurt Fern. Yet she protected him even after being hurt.

"I am going to hurt you," Clove growled, unsheathing a set of long, curved daggers in a smooth motion.

I nodded knowingly and unsheathed my sword slowly. "I know. So does Fern. That’s why she called for the dryads and others."

"Aren’t you embarrassed by that? You have to rely on others to protect you. That’s embarrassing!" Clove slowed, a mixture of curiosity, disgust, and anger flaring in his dark eyes. The crimson ring in his pupils expanded ever so slightly. A moment later, he stepped into the arena–the remains of a massive tree stump that must have been there for millennia.

The stump was even and flawless, except for a few scratch marks and cuts that barely marred its surface.

"Embarrassed? Why should I be? The Choosing was only three weeks ago, one of which I spent caged and imprisoned." I snorted when Clove’s eyes widened momentarily. "You know nothing about me. And while I know nothing about you either, I don’t act like I do. But even if we were acquaintances, I wouldn’t be embarrassed about receiving help from Fern and the others."

"If you ask me, I’m grateful for how much Fern cares for me. It warms my heart how the fae care for each other in this place." Clove looked positively confused at this point. "And I think there is nothing embarrassing about losing to you. As long as I learn something from the spar, I will be grateful."

The words resounded across the training grounds as I stepped onto the tree stump. Clove lowered his body, the crimson glow in his eyes growing drastically. There was no countdown. The young fae burst into action moments after I stepped onto the stump. He bolted toward me almost too fast for my eyes to track.

Almost.

I blocked the first strike as Clove thrust his left dagger toward my neck. Leaning forward, I pushed into him, hoping to take him by surprise or at least deflect his second strike.

Neither happened.

Clove bared his razor-sharp teeth as he twisted to the side, his arms turning into a blur. My arm and abdomen exploded in pain. Blood dripped to the ground, flowing slowly but steadily. The cuts were not as deep as I feared, but the meaning behind them was apparent.

"I’m still holding back, you know?" Clove chuckled. "Lowering my strength to match yours is quite hard. To think Fern would choose someone as weak as you."

He shook his head before coming at me again. I tried to take him on once more. Alas, he met my blade with his daggers, diverted my attack’s trajectory by leveraging my strength, and emerged before me, his eyes screaming danger.

I stepped back and twisted my way out of the first strike, but Clove stuck to my side like a leech. He executed a series of quick slashes and thrusts, each harder to block than the last. All the while, he was smiling–gleeful, enjoying himself, because that was what he was doing. He enjoyed playing with me.

"Is that all you’ve got? I expected a lot more from you, human!" Clove hollered, his voice ringing in my head.

Then I reached the edge of the tree stump. Clove’s smile widened further, which only urged him on. I was about to fall when I changed my tactic.

Fighting Clove head-on in my main form failed miserably. I barely managed to block a few strikes, which was already more than I expected to manage. That alone was surprising, considering I had never really practiced the sword with anyone.

Clove’s fighting style was also odd. It was aggressive yet fluid enough to evade my strikes. His agile movements forced me to focus on my flawed motions, to cast aside unnecessary and flashy sequences and focus on the truly important movements instead.

Alas, I couldn’t focus on practice at that moment. As unfortunate as it was, something had to change.

So, I used Shift. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Clove was upon me, his daggers thirsting for my blood, when I transformed into a Blue Slime. It was my smoothest transformation yet–not instantaneous, but fast enough to escape the bloodied daggers and slip through his legs. A moment later, I transformed into a Hnoll, clawed hands reaching for my other steel sword.

The young fae spun around with surprising speed, only to be greeted by a snarling monster, steel sword in hand.

I struck out with far more force and speed than my main form could muster. Then, at last, the spar started for real.