Rebirth Of The Bastard Spirit Summoner

Three months later…

The next few months were hectic, throughout the time, Stark trained like a beast and worked like a slave.

From physical training like throwing punches underwater while being tied down with weights to cracking rocks with his fists, Stark did a series of strange and painful exercises.

Then after training with Alaric, he would join Kael on the expedition to the mountain which had finally reached its peak.

He was tired, mentally drained and in pain all over, but it was not for nothing.

His muscles had grown exponentially both in strength and in size, his skill with a sword had magnified and his mental alertness had improved, and today—

Today was the day Alaric judged everything…

Standing shirtless under the pointing rain with nothing but his trousers on his waist, and his weapons strapped on his body, Stark slowly moved his hands forwards, his eyes bearing far more sharpness than two months back.

He took a beep breath and breathed out steam.

Although he was not moving, his body was extremely hot, the result of the chaos brewing within him.

Then a blue aura began to emanate from his skin as he stared at the man in front of him.

Alaric smiled and took off his cloak, the material fizzling into nothing and revealing his muscular build—a body surprisingly even more impressive than Starks.

Standing underneath the shade of a tree, Jade watched them with Chubby sitting on her legs, both of them waiting for the fight to start.

Alaric cracked his neck, creating a popping sound that resounded even through the rain.

"You have gone far beyond my expectations in such a short time." He smirked. "But it is not enough…"

His voice became more serious as both him and Stark took the same fighting stance. "This will be your rite of passage!" His voice boomed over the beating rain.

"To move on to the final stage and complete your training, you must land a hit on me or die trying, that is the way of the martial artists!"

Stark closed his eyes, focusing his mind.

He knew that Alaric obviously wasn't going to go all out. Their difference in strength was too far apart for him to do anything if he did.

But that didn't mean he was going to go easy on him…

He sucked in a deep breath, the oxygen feeling like fire in his lungs as he breathed out the steamy leftovers.

Then his eyes snapped open.

Swoosh!

Both men disappeared, meeting in the middle with a resounding blow that sent an invisible shockwave cutting past them.

Stark twisted his body, swinging his legs down and at the same time doing a double fist attack at Alaric's face.

A complicated manoeuvre.

Thump Thump Whoosh!

Blocking all his hits, the sage unleashed a mighty chop that almost split his head apart, Stark only managing to dodge in the last second.

He pushed the energy to his legs and then lept back, crossing an exponential distance in a short amount of time.

Once he was at a good enough distance, he closed his eyes briefly and then slowly raised his arms at his side.

As he did, tremulous energy began to form on his fists, the light blue aura pulsing like a heart beat.

Alaric's gaze hardened. "That puny basic technique against a sage like me? When will you stop being so calculative, Stark?!" He screamed at the top of his voice as he brought his hands together in a deafening thunder clap.

"Thunder Clad Ash!"

Boom!

The word quaked as a colossal surge of grey fog tore towards Stark.

His breath hung in his throat as he glanced at the storm. Even with his speed, there was no way to escape it.

He had to face it head on.

He unsheathed his dagger, placed his hand on the pommel of his sword then moved his hand in a strange circular pattern… after which he unsheathed the sword behind him—

The sword came out coated with a vibrant bright blue energy that buzzed agaist his skin.

With the cloud of ash seconds away from reaching him, Stark's gaze darkened as he swung with all his might.

Thunder clad ash was a wide ranged attack capable of taking out multitudes with a single blow. Stark had not yet learned that ability since it was something far higher than his current level.

Yet…

'There is one way to counter it!'

"Whispering Ash!"

A thin line of energy tore forward with a speed greater than any arrow and accuracy they would put archers to shame.

Swoosh!

The energy split the storm of ash apart from the middle, the two sides sweeping past him and covering the entire forest behind in ash.

Stark held his sword close to his chest and slowly looked around his immediate surroundings.

Visibility was poor, and with the sound of the rain it was impossible to pick up any movement.

But he knew that he was there.

Somewhere in the ash, Alaric was lurking.

Alaric took measured steps in the ash, his expression intense as he stared at Stark through the cloud.

'He is doing well, but is he ready for the final step?'

The final step of the beginner training was another step that had killed far more students than Alaric could count.

Only at a certain degree of mastery could you even attempt the challenge.

"You have gone far in the past few months…" Alaric said, his voice echoing through the ash.

Stark glanced around but was unable to pinpoint the exact direction of the voice.

"But do you really think three months is enough for you to touch me? It took years for me to touch my master."

He appeared right beside Stark, staring at him with a terrifying look in his eyes.

"You are nowhere near my level."

"How did you—??!"

Stark swung his blade, but it was far too late.

Crack!

Blood spewed out of his mouth as his body was sent right out of the ash—bouncing hard against a large tree, the force so intense that the tree tilted.

Alaric then moved his hand in a circular pattern and the ash condensed, moving into his palm to form a calamitous ball of compressed ash.

"Dodge this, or you will really die."

"Fury of a thousand kings!"