Rebirth Of The Bastard Spirit Summoner

In the world of martial artists, when a student began their training, they were made to work on a technique of their choice.

Inventing their own unique skill was a pivotal part of the training as it showed their level of understanding in the concept.

In Alaric's time, he had created Thunder Clad Ash, but as for Stark, it was something different…

Stark coughed up blood, hot pain coursing through his back from the impact, and yet he stood up and stared ahead of him.

Like expected, Alaric was already cooking up his next attack, a move Stark had seen once in the past three months.

Fury of a Thousand Kings.

It could not be blocked, and slicing it was useless, especially at his level.

Stark had to dodge it, but even that was a terrible task as the move had a homing feature, it would follow you to hell if it had to.

There was only one answer.

As the ball tore through the air, racing towards him, Stark once again took his stance, his sword's tip pointing backward and his dagger in front of him.

He took in a deep breath and concentrated, then he caused his internal energy to move even faster, to vibrate with much more intensity, up until he felt like his body would burst.

Each breath was steamy due to how hot he was, the rain that fell against his body evaporated into steam on contact, and for a second, his vision blurred.

But he could handle it, he had handled it before.

It was his own personal move after all.

He moved his sword in front of him—slowly at first and then he suddenly spun, moving like a cyclone that was accelerating with each passing second.

His body became a blur of blue aura that rose up into the sky, the wind picking up around him, yet there was no movement.

He remained in the same position, drilling a hole into the floor with his motion.

But just as the black ball of ash neared him, he suddenly disappeared.

Stark evaded the ball with ease, his body sprinting towards Alaric with far more speed than he had any right to command.

"Clap and Flash!"

Boom!

The cyclone he had created drew the black ball in, the both of them exploding against each other with a sound akin to roaring thunder.

As for Stark.

He had reached Alaric.

BANG!

His sword collided with the old man's hand with a terrible force. It came with the efforts of a hundred days and more fury than a thousand strikes.

Some of the trees behind Alaric leaned back to the point they almost touched the floor, the flood of wind so heavy that it sent them billowing backward.

But Alaric remained unmoved.

With a devilish smile on his face and a dark aura surrounding his hands, he held Stark's blade with a single finger.

Stark smiled nervously. "Damn, one finger? Really?"

Whoosh!

Alaric's kick nearly took his head off but he managed to backflip away just in time.

He let out a sigh, breathing heavily as his body ached. Stark could already feel the drawbacks of using his techniques, they took a heavy toll on the body.

That move… it should have been enough to land a hit on Alaric, at least at the skill level he was at initially.

But it seemed he was enjoying the fight far too much and had now decided to move things up to the next level.

Alaric was like a thirsty man drinking water for the first time in days. It had been years since he last saw combat, and now that he had tasted it? He wanted more, much more.

"Shit!"

That didn't bode well for him…

Step!

The earth seemed to tremble from his footstep alone as he began walking forward.

Step!

The already dark skies began to darken even more, angry lightning streaking up in the sky.

Step!

He looked up to face Stark, a devilish look in his eyes.

And then he crossed his fists together.

A stance that he had never seen, a move that he had never witnessed.

"Heavenly Retribution!"

Alaric's energy blazed like a fire in the wind, rising so high up that it cast a shadow over Stark.

And then it darkened, his energy twisting into a particular shape until it finally took the form of something terrifying.

It was a gigantic colossus, a giant several times larger than him. It had thick cloudy arms possessing terrible strength and its head was covered in a warrior's helmet, its eyes blazing with a fiery energy.

The colossus had a spear in its hand, a large weapon about the size of a tree and in its other hand was a large shield.

It dropped the latter, shield falling to the floor with a loud boom, and then it drew its arm back, wielding the spear like a javelin.

"Forget the rite of passage!" Alaric screamed at the top of his voice, both hands clasped together.

"You have automatically passed, and right now we will complete the last phase of your training!"

"You already know what you need to do to stop this attack. Fail, and you die!"

Alaric was too lost to the mirth of combat to be reasoned with.

There was nothing in Stark's arsenal that could stop this attack!

But Alaric was right, he knew what needed to be done. Alaric had told him on the first day after all…

"Only after you have summoned the dragon will this training be considered complete."

The Thunder Dragon's strike, redirecting lightning…

That was what he needed to do. But Stark had not managed to hit the move even once.

As the wind picked up around them, the howling of the storm singing a ballad to his destruction, Stark closed his eyes and breathed out.

He knew all the steps, he knew the moves, he just had to do it.

Lightning crackled in the air like a thunderous whip, soaring around the sky as though daring anyone to take it, to command it.

His internal energy began to surge.

It moved so fast that it turned to lightning within his veins, bubbling with so much energy that he gasped in pain.

And then Stark connected himself to the heavens.

Internal energy was connected to this world; when he called, the world was obligated to answer.

BTZZZZZZZ!

Up above, lightning clashed against itself as though debating who would descend—who would bring desolation upon the world.

And then it came.

A bolt of lightning so powerful that it brightened up the world as it fell right into his hands.

Stark screamed in pain as his skin began to burn, the lightning eating through him like worms through a corpse.

He gritted his teeth, and then he circulated the lightning around his body, charging it even further.

His eyes glowed a bright blue and he snarled, the energy coalescing in his fists.

Observing the entire ordeal, Alaric laughed, his voice booming over them.

"Die!!!!!"

VWOOOSHHH!!

With a devastating shockwave, the Titan tossed the spear right at Stark. It charged forward with more than enough power to undo him, bone and flesh would melt into nothing—

But that was if it landed.

Stark met the spear with a punch approved by the heavens itself.

TZZZZZZ!

BANG!

A shockwave tore past him as his fist collided with the spear.

The spear was stalwart, refusing to be destroyed but Stark's blow carried a force that could not be moved.

The unstoppable force versus the immovable object.

And then finally—

BOOM!

Stark felt his world rip apart as a bright light washed past him.

He didn't know what happened but all he knew was that at the end of it, he was seated on the floor, his body burned beyond description.

Alaric stood above him and frowned, slowly shaking his head.

He had successfully blocked the attack, yet he was far too battered to do anything reasonable.

And the worst part of it all—he had failed to summon the dragon.

He turned around and began walking away.

"You're not ready…"

Somehow, he sounded more pained than Stark who sat, bleeding all over.

Jade and Chubby arrived a second later.

At the sight of Stark's bleak form, Jade's face contorted in anger and she lifted her hands, a gigantic shard of crystal already forming.

"Are you trying to kill him, you old fool?!"

The crystal doubled, gleaming dangerously with highly compressed mana, but before she could launch it, Stark held her shoulder.

He could still feel the lighting coursing through his behind and the maddening feeling of power that accompanied it.

At that point, he had felt—invincible.

"More practice, I need more practice."