The Good Teacher

In another place high up in the Sect's floating mountain, in a room inside a courtyard dwelling assigned only for Elders in the Sect, two individuals were in a tense meeting.

As a sect grew larger, it became harder to manage the individual members and maintain proper control over the organisation. To tackle this issue, regiments were created within the sect led by Elders. An Elder in charge of a regiment would report directly to the Sect Leader and based on the regiment's performance as a whole and their contribution to the Sect, they would have greater say in sect matters.

Frequently, certain competitions would be held in the Outer Division, with Elders in the audience, and based on the members' performances they would be recruited into a particular regiment and move into the Inner Division.

Marek Glista was responsible for the Martial Peak regiment within the Cloudstrider Sect. It was one of the least populated regiments with the most stringent entry requirements, however, it held the highest votes in Sect matters due to the amount of money it raked in through escort and subjugation missions. However, although his regiment was the most valuable within the Sect, his abode did not flaunt that abundance. Every room within the house was decorated plainly, with a preference for function over form. In fact, a large portion of the dwelling was dedicated to a practising field, weapon and spell testing areas, time-dilation chambers, martial arts and cultivation manual storage, and so on. The only room where one could entertain guests also doubled as a weapons storage and display room.

Marek blew lightly over the surface of the hot tea in his hands before taking a small sip. Although he could very well gulp down the scalding cup, given his superior physique, tea was more to enjoy, appreciate and converse over than to satiate one's thirst. Although, the last part of that triad was missing from the present company. He was currently in his personal quarters entertaining a guest who simply refused to partake in any tête-à-tête.

"Come on now, Al. Stop staring at me as if you want to eat me," Marek joked. "You're making me blush."

Al snorted back before picking up his own cup of tea, "I don't understand why someone such as yourself would collect such precious tea. You don't even know how to appreciate them."

"Maybe it was in anticipation of a guest that was knowledgeable about it. Why don't you tell me about what we're drinking?"

"You bought it, you tell me!" Al retorted.

"This isn't how you keep a conversation going, Al. There needs to be some back and forth."

"What makes you think I want to converse with you?"

Marek sighed and said, "Why are you being so antagonistic with me when all I've done here is cater to you?"

"You know exactly why I'm like this," Al shot back.

Marek exhaled in defeat and leaned back into his chair casually while adorning an emotionless gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know what? Screw it!" Al bellowed in exasperation. "That day! You let me win."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Marek repeated.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Al derided sarcastically. "I don't believe I am so capable as to defeat someone who has earned the alias 'Battle Maniac' in one-on-one combat."

"Aren't you underestimating yourself?" Marek pointed out.

"I don't do that. The only reason I agreed to a duel back then was that you cornered me into that confrontation. No one knows me better than myself, and I knew from the beginning that I could not beat you. Your track record made that extremely clear. 'If you want to defeat Marek Glista, bring a mage a realm above or forget about winning,' that's what everyone says do you know that?"

"That's highly paranoid of you," Marek chuckled. "Maybe all that studying has fried your brain."

Al brought down his fist forcefully on the table before him, releasing a loud boom. Surprisingly the table withheld the attack, nothing placed on it even vibrated. But this wasn't of Al's concern. The moment of aggression was enough to bring Marek out of his jovial mood. He looked into Al's eyes with a cold frown and said, "Why do you even care? For argument's sake, let's say that I did let you win there. The way I see it, you had everything to gain. How did I benefit from that?"

"Exactly!" Al chimed in. "What did you gain from this? Why would you let me win, and give me a freebie 'No Questions Asked' Favour? We all know the saying, 'When something's too good to be true, it probably is!'"

As he finished his piece, Al gazed expectantly at Marek. He wasn't planning to leave before clarifying everything. Thus, a stillness settled in the room as both individuals stared at each other.

"You're a smart man, Al. You must have a theory," Marek started, breaking the silence while taking a sip of his tea. But then, he noticed that the tea had cooled down by a lot. So he raised the cup all the way and chugged it down without a thought.

"Our duel was a simple challenge. You said that it would be a straightforward spar to trade pointers. I believed you and we began a private match. However, midway through our fight, you started to throw wild attacks that were flashy and destructive and attracted a large crowd. Then, you declared loudly that the winner of the match would owe the other a favour, no questions asked."

Al paused to gauge Marek's reaction, and continued, "The turning point midway through our fight, that's the key! Something affected you at that point, and you changed your approach. You could have easily beat me at that point as well, but you didn't. You started to experiment with your attacks and used unorthodox strategies. Although you made it convincing to the observers, I could feel it. You weren't being challenged at all."

The moment Al said the last sentence, he saw a sparkle in Marek's eyes.

"By letting me win, and tethering me with the favour, you made it so that we could meet each other again in the future. But why?"

Al posed the question out loud, and immediately followed up with a barrage of questions, "Was it to fight me again? Did you want to experiment more? Was it to amuse yourself?"

Noticing Al's heated and accusatory gaze, Marek tried to keep his calm. However, he could not do so and succumbed with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

"Sometimes, being too smart is a sin. Did you know that?" Marek said with a bitter smile. "It is true, I could have won that day. You aren't a combatant at heart, but you held your own longer than others had even with that handicap. You used spells in a way I could never even dream of. You compressed a |Fireball| to a marble-size and applied an illusory trick to make it look like a rock, and then hid it within a |Rock Slide| attack which caught me completely off-guard. That is just to name one instance, throughout the whole fight, I was forced to think on my feet. Nothing went the way it was supposed to. But your weakness became evident when my sword met your own. You are a jack-of-all-trades, master of many, but not in the field I myself lived my entire life for. Weapon-based combat is the very essence of my being. If I had pushed all of my mana and applied a power attack, you would have succumbed and lost."

"My Master would always tell me that you can learn more about a person through an hour worth of sparring than through years worth of conversations," Marek redirected. "In our fight, I believe I got to know that kind of person you are. Resourceful, intelligent, diligent, but deep down, you were vulnerable. Every action you took faltered by a fraction of a millisecond. You were unsure if what you were doing was right, it was the kind of hesitance that came from self-loathing."

"It-" Marek's voice broke and he paused. With visible difficulty on his face, he continued, "I empathised with you. I could connect with that emotion you projected: self-loathing and doubt. It's something I've had to live with for most of my life. I didn't know why you felt those emotions. What burned you so deeply that you question your every step?"

"Though our combat, I found myself resonating with another. Not in my cultivation, not in my soul, but in my heart."

Marek pulled the edge of his lips into his cheeks and said. "I felt that way many times before when I was younger and still stupid. I followed it once, only to get burned and shamed in public. Since then, I cut that part of my heart and let it decay, never to resurface again. However, when fighting you, that dried up husk that remained in my heart started to bloom once more."

"Unfortunately, it came back in full force. I could not quell it. During our fight, I had this sudden urge to be selfish and let everything be damned. But I knew that it wasn't right - it wouldn't be fair for you. Yet I had to do something to quench that part of my heart."

With a passion-filled gaze, Marek said, "When you know you can't have it. But your heart just won't stop searching for it. All you can hope for is that the mere sight of it is enough to satisfy that fervour."

"I did have an ulterior motive when I let you win," Marek said finally with a worried tone. "I just wanted to see you again. I knew that as long as this favour hung over your head, we would meet again. Well, I hoped that we would. Luckily, it came to pass."