Salvation | Rebirth

"Who's that sexy chunk of meat with a scar on his head over there? Wild's his name, wasn't it?"

Precision turned her head and saw a mare looking at Wild with a lecherous grin on her face. The mare in question was an earth pony in her twenties, closer to twenty-five. She wouldn't look out of place pretty much anywhere.

"Aren't you a bit too old for him?" the young unicorn raised her brow.

"If he's not legal yet, he'll be within a year," the mare waved her hoof dismissively, "I say get 'em young to have a good fuck. Lots of energy, eager to please. And please they do..."

"You're not that old to lack energy or eagerness," Precision commented, "Same for the stallions your own age."

"So, am I too old or am I not?" the mare chuckled, smirking at the unicorn, "In any case, how Wild's like?"

"I don't know much," Precision shrugged, "He doesn't talk to anyone, he doesn't partake in anything other than martial arts. Dunno what he's up to when he's by himself."

"Oh, so a stone-cold exterior?" the mare looked pleased, "That's fine, I'll help him melt it with a flame of desire~"

"That wouldn't be a good idea," the young unicorn protested on his behalf, "He... doesn't like it when others touch him. He doesn't like when others approach him. And, as I said, he doesn't talk. At all. I don't know if he's deaf, but he's most likely mute."

"A mystery to be solved, sure," the mare nodded as if it didn't concern her in the slightest, "Have you set your sights on him yet?"

"I'm not into stallions," Precision waved her off, then noticed someone approaching from her side, "And speaking of those eager to please... Swingblade, when are you becoming fourteen? It's soon, right?"

"What?" he blinked stupidly at her first, then grinned widely, "In a week."

"You wanted someone? I bet he'll be fine for you," the unicorn addressed the mare, then turned back to the pegasus, "Wanna fuck this mare once you're fourteen?"

Swingblade's jaw nearly fell off as he stared at the earth pony mare. She was, undoubtedly, quite beautiful. Nothing in the realm of princess-level beautiful, but she was fit, her features were nice and pleasant, and she was also giving him a look of at least some interest. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks when her eyes traveled down his body, deliberately slowly.

"You'll do nicely," the mare grinned, walking closer to him, "Sporty, nice-lookin'... Ever bed a mare?"

"N-no, I've... not," Swingblade stuttered, a huge blush on his face, "Name's Swingblade, b-by the way."

"A nice name," she complimented, "Well, Swingblade, you've one week to prepare for the best fuck of your life. I'll be waitin' here, name's Daisy, you'll find me," she finished, turned around, flicked her tail at his muzzle, and walked away with a sexy sway of her hips, turning her head to him and giving him a wink with her sky-blue eyes as goodbye.

"Careful, don't let your dick fall out the crotch pocket," Precision bumped him teasingly, "That'd be kinda embarrassing. Anyway, be grateful I played match-maker for you, you owe me one."

Without waiting for a response, she walked away. Disaster was, at least for now, averted - she had no idea what Wild would do to the mare. It's not like her offer would be unwelcome by most, but he wasn't most. He didn't appreciate much calmer ponies approaching him, so she could only imagine his reaction to the lustful mare. It was very likely he wouldn't appreciate her eagerness to bed him. Not that Wild wasn't handsome in a certain way - he was quite fit, his features weren't in any way ugly or unpleasant, but his vacant stare and his scar, when combined, were somewhat off-putting. She heard some fillies were interested in him; not in him, precisely, but more his body.

She glanced at him, and he wasn't even looking at her. As a matter of fact, he sat with his eyes closed, swaying a little bit in place like a tree in the wind, his face devoid of emotions. His breath was steady and slow, deep and thorough. Precision felt her skin prickle just a little bit when she came closer. His eyes opened, and she could swear they were glowing slightly. He turned his head and looked at her. His eyes bore into hers, and she felt completely exposed, unable to look away. It was a strange sensation - recent thoughts floated to the surface of her mind, most of them of no real consequence. However, the most prominent was, of course, the thoughts about the lustful mare and the talk she had just had. Precision wasn't one for casual relationships of that sort, but even she was interested. Daisy was positively sexy, an aura of desire surrounded her like a cloak, giving a sense of warmth to those around her.

Precision had turned fourteen a couple weeks ago, so she could technically... No. She didn't know this mare, and now that she's gone, the feeling of attraction faded away. She brushed it aside as nothing.

She shuddered when Wild's eyes looked away, his head cocked as if he found something interesting. The young mare had suspected he had somehow looked into her mind, saw her recent memories and thoughts. A gaze was all it took, just like that. However, it seemed ridiculous. She didn't know much magic, but she was sure it required training to get anywhere when it came to magically exploring your own mind, let alone the minds of others. It was probably nothing but his usual aloofness.

Wild frowned to himself - what did he just experience? He looked into her eyes, wondering why she was looking at his strangely, and there it was - information. Now he knew that there was a mare - Daisy was her name - that looked at him, wondered about him. Her expression made him shudder internally - to most people, it would elicit a different reaction, but he experienced revulsion instead. This mare wanted his body for her own pleasure, and it was disgusting. He hadn't had thoughts of sex for a long time, never had them since... well, he didn't want to think about it. Now, this only caused him a sense of terrible unease, making him want to gag.

But that wasn't important, no. What was important was how he got this information. For one reason or another, it seemed like he... invaded Precision's mind somehow. True, it was just her surface thoughts and nothing deeper, but it made him feel dirty, filthy. And she never even noticed, it looked like, or if she did, she discarded the sensation as unimportant. And if it was true that he did slip into her mind... what if others could do the same to him? It wasn't the first time he saw something in the eyes of others, but it was the first time he gleamed more than he believed he should. He shuddered at the thought - just how deep could one go into an other's mind?

He knew, at that moment, he needed to learn how to protect his own. If anyone found out who he was, his relatively peaceful life would be over, and he would suffer until he died a most horrible death. And then... then, he would probably be reborn again, and no one could guarantee his third life would take place in an environment as pleasant as Equestria had been so far.

Panic arose inside him but he didn't let it show. He squashed it, pushed it down with all his will, he had beaten it back into the depths of his consciousness. Panic never helped, he knew. Panic made him disorganized, unprepared, random, uncertain. He needed to be in control, he needed to have a clear head if he hoped to survive.

Breath in, breath out. Deeply, thoroughly. One breath, two breaths, three breaths. His heart stopped beating as fast, his body lost its tension. A duel was announced, and he needed to pay attention to it.

"Swingblade of the Royal Orphanage Martial Arts Club verses Rainbow Dash of Ponyville Sunrise Club!"

He saw the eager pegasi step into the fighting ring, both of them ready to fight, both of them desiring victory. Energy flowed through them, it could be seen by an untrained eye. They looked at each other, taunted each other with meaningless insults. They were ready to tear into one another.

"Begin!"

The two immediately flew up and started battling in the air. Spear against spear, they stabbed and swung, coming from all the different angles, trying to get one another. Swingblade attacked and dodged, fast and precise, and Rainbow Dash responded in kind. This aerial dance continued for a minute, two, five, neither relenting, neither giving up. However, the mare was faster, more trained, more energetic. One attack, one stab was all it took for the male pegasus to lose the first round of the duel.

"First round for Rainbow Dash!" Steadfast Protector announced, and the two pegasi landed, one grumbling, and the other beaming at the audience. A minute of rest was given to them.

"Begin!"

Swingblade dashed forward, a snarl on his face. Surprised, Rainbow Dash could do nothing but jump to the side with the aid of her wings - one of them was clipped by the strike, rendering her flightless for the round. She was firmly on the defensive now, dodging and blocking and parrying the relentless attack from the other pegasus. Yet, when he got too close, she jumped and hit his chest with her hooves, making air escape his lungs with a gasp as he was thrown backwards and off-balance. He rolled on the ground, disoriented, and that was when she struck, ending the round.

"Second round for Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash wins and goes on to quarter-finals!"

The Ponyville side of the spectators cheered while the Royal Orphanage side politely stomped their hooves in applause. Swingblade no longer looked eager - his ears were flat against his head as he looked down on his hooves, walking back to the stands in shame.

"You did what you could, Swingblade," Swift Strike told him, "I know you will do better next time, you won't rest until you win."

"But I lost today..." he grumbled.

"You did, and you will accept it," the trainer nodded, "It's your first tournament outside the Orphanage. You did well by getting this far. With enough training, you will get even farther, believe me."

Swingblade nodded and sat down, looking glum. Wild glanced at him - he was once just like him, feeling elated in combat and then completely defeated if he didn't win. Eager to fight, never wishing to lose. He learned, and now he knew better. A loss meant he had yet more to learn. A loss meant the possibility for growth. A loss could not be avoided.

Wild didn't lose much after learning this lesson. With this attitude, every loss he took became a thing to be analyzed and to be overcome. He watched recordings of his fights, thought back to them, and then trained to fix whatever it was that made him lose. In time, he stopped losing entirely, and he had yet to lose against a pony. However, despite coming out victorious against them, he was under no delusion - he still had to learn. He didn't need to learn the lesson the hard way - he much preferred prevention instead. A lesson learned before it was taught.

A few other pairs were called and fought, including a fight between Bulk Biceps and an unremarkable pegasus. The duel ended quickly when Bulk bit down on the shaft on the spear and brought his opponent down, ending the duel with a stab. A nurse was needed to ease the pain of the landing for the losing pegasus. The said pegasus forfeited the second round, and Bulk Biceps continued on, flexing his muscles and roaring in victory. Wild was annoyed once more at the forfeiture - he needed to see more of Bulk Biceps just to be sure of what strategy to use against him. Perhaps he would have to improvise more. It would be difficult, but there was a saying from somewhere - the bigger the wardrobe, the louder it falls.

Precision's turn was announced and passed quickly. True to her name, she ended the first round quickly and decisively, avoiding a slash and delivering her own. It began and ended in mere moments. The second ended just as quickly as she struck her opponent over their guard right on their head. She would continue to quarter-finals and, as far as Wild expected, would at least go to half-finals. Undoubtedly, she would receive at least the third place overall, maybe the second, and even the first was within her grasp.

Wild awaited his turn, but another was announced, and it wasn't him who was fighting.

"Twilight Sparkle of Ponyville Sunrise Club versus Lucky Clover of Ponyville Sunrise Club!"

Despite having been defeated by Wild previously, the stallion managed to snag two victories after that. If he had to bet, Wild would stand behind the unicorn mare - there was no doubt who would emerge victorious. Proof came just a few seconds later.

Lucky Clover delivered the first strike, a simple diagonal swing from upper left to lower right. Twilight stepped back, then batted the spear down and out of her way, stepping back forward, and delivering a quick thrust. A textbook-perfect move executed without a mistake.

"First round for Twilight Sparkle!" Steadfast Protector announced, and a minute period of rest followed. Wild certainly expected Twilight to be a problem when she went forward - there was no doubt when it came to her skills. Even if they came purely from manuals, they were perfect, practiced until she could do them in her sleep. Perhaps she lacked originality, perhaps she wasn't creative, but their lack was more than covered by her trained reflexes and muscle memory. Or, in this case, perhaps it was also magic memory. He still didn't know just how magic worked.

The second round was a surprise. Lucky Clover struck again, receiving a textbook-perfect response once more, but then he twisted out of the way, guiding his spear with him, and tried to strike again. This attack couldn't, shouldn't have succeeded - it was awkward and wasn't as powerful as it should be. However, despite Twilight's timely response, it wasn't timely enough. She did deflect the strike from her chest, but the spear went on to poke at her eye instead.

"Second round for Lucky Clover!"

It seemed strange attacks that wouldn't succeed otherwise received no proper response from Twilight Sparkle. Wild raised a brow - did she really not know how to deal with something like this? Surely she had seen her fair share of awkward and weak and just plain ineffective strikes during her training? Or was it just a lucky strike and he was seeing a pattern where there wasn't any?

"Begin!"

The third round turned unlucky for Lucky Clover. Twilight Sparkle attacked first, feinted, and struck him right on the muzzle past his guard. This was over almost as soon as it began.

"Third round for Twilight Sparkle! Twilight Sparkle wins the duel!"

Wild stomped the ground politely in applause. If anything, he was looking forward to dueling her. Hopefully, she would prove to be a challenge despite the hiccup she experienced during her duel's second round. Perhaps it was just a fluke and nothing more.

"Wild of the Royal Orphanage Martial Arts Club versus Sweetie Drops of Ponyville Sunrise Club!"

Wild got up and walked into the fighting ring. He pulled out his sabre from the conjured scabbard and waited. His opponent was an earth pony mare of cream-colored fur and two-tone mane of deep blue and a shade of pink. She looked unassuming but there was a certain tension to her movements. The young unicorn didn't neglect watching her previous duels, and she showed herself to be a professional. Despite not wearing armor and having only a sword at her disposal, she emerged victorious from both qualification rounds without getting hit at all. Her movements were precise, there was no hesitation in her. He suspected she had once been a part of military or still was. Or perhaps she was private security of some kind. Either way, she obviously had training beyond what the Sunrise Club offered, this much was obvious to him.

"Begin!"

Neither of them moved from their place. The drum beat was slow and steady as they gazed at each other. Wild's sabre was raised above his head in an aggressive stance he preferred. Her own blade was held in her maw by the D-shaped handle and was pointed slightly downwards.

He thought about all the tournaments he had been to, all the losses and victories he experienced. He remembered how he climbed the steep ladder of skill and proficiency, working tirelessly to improve his technique, his reaction time, and his body. That was a joy in his life, one of the very few he had. And now... he felt it again. He felt the eagerness rise within him, he felt adrenaline flooding into his bloodstream. He saw his opponent and he knew it was his time.

Gracefully and quickly yet unpredictably and precisely, he struck, his sabre swishing through the air. It collided with the raised blade of Sweetie Drops, and he felt immense satisfaction at the magically simulated sparks that came from the impact. It didn't even matter that his strike didn't hit her - the feeling of the fight was there, and that was all that mattered.

A swing, a stab, a strike, a thrust. Like a song, the fight flowed through him as he surrendered himself to the sensation. It was right, it was what he needed. It was what he wanted. His opponent was skillful, and neither could finish the duel before the first minute passed. Exhilarated, he moved, dodged, blocked, parried, and attacked back again when he could. His face betrayed none of the emotions he felt as he was focused on the thrill of the fight. It felt exactly like it was supposed to be, the floodgates were open.

He remembered how he parried, feinted, and then struck true and won the duel when he was just around fourteen. He remembered hos satisfying the sound of blades hitting each other was. He remembered the stench of sweat, the feeling of his gambeson clinging to his skin. The sting in his eyes as sweat rolled down his forehead, the dull ache in his limbs after a thorough training. It was everything he wanted and needed.

Sweetie Drops attempted a feint, one he saw coming a mile away. He dodged easily, moving forward, and knocked her blade aside. Continuing with the rotation, the mare turned and struck with her hind legs, attempting to kick him. He jumped back, her hooves barely touching his chest. She brought her blade back in front of her, and the back-and-forth between them resumed. Skill against skill, body against body, blade against blade.

Wild hadn't remembered when he was properly challenged since he was around seventeen. At that point, he could be called a master of dueling. Grueling training sessions had made his body into a machine, memorization and practice of different moves sharpened his mind. Since coming to Equestria, he didn't feel challenged when it came to swordsmanship - all the foals and young ponies in the orphanage were no more skilled than he was mid-teens. Even Precision and Swingblade, the very best of the bunch, couldn't scratch his itch for a challenge.

But there it was. Sweetie Drops was more skilled than either of them, and she proved herself to be a challenge. And Wild relished in it.

After what seemed like eternity but was barely four minutes, Wild made his finishing move. Sweetie Drops, as skilled as she was, obviously wasn't used to the onslaught he brought to the field as he repeatedly hacked and slashed and stabbed, seemingly needing no rest. His aggression translated into his style perfectly, and he had yet to encounter someone who could truly stand up to it. Younger fighters didn't have the skill, older fighters didn't have the stamina. Sweetie Drops looked relatively young, but her inexperience with the likes of him proved to be her downfall.

All it took was a quick feint. She couldn't intercept his real strike perfectly, and he only needed to bat her sword aside before thrusting his blade forward. With her blade no longer threatening him and with his having hit her chest, the duel was over.

"First round for Wild!" was the announcement, yet he didn't care.

He had experienced a challenge. He fought, he won, and he knew the second round wouldn't be too much different. He would fight, and his strike would be the first to hit the opponent. He basked in the glow of his first round's victory, a small smile appearing on his face, barely showing the true emotions inside him as his heart thumped in his chest like a war drum, the ringing of steel against steel humming pleasantly inside his head, and a heat of adrenaline coursing through his veins, filling him with strength and power.

He longed for more. And when they were told to begin the second round, he raised his blade and rushed forward.

This day was perfect, and he failed to notice the sky-blue eyes continuing to observe him and his movements. They followed him like a predator, stalking him beyond his reach or notice, taking note for the sake of what was yet to come.