Tales of a Ninja Magician: Of Where We Come From

Life Shaver

Shimo did not draw, he did not dare compare his skill against Silverton's just yet. The young man weaved a hand seal, barely in time. Had he not been tutored by Mana on how to weave those blasted things fast enough he'd be split in two like a melon.

"Glaciation Jutsu!" Shimo chanted in an instant. The water left over from the molten Justicar from before glaciated in an instant, Shimo barely felt any pressure in his chakra network. Techniques like this came as easy to him now as waving his arm.

Silverton slid forward, he had to maintain his composure to remain afoot, keep readjusting his balance. Shimo wanted to use that opportunity. The boy dashed past the hulking man, drawing his blade as the blizzard gathered behind him in a shape of a rabid white wolf with icicles for fur and larger ones for claws. A simple technique from Shimo's youth that would easily test Silverton's capacity to take hits if not take him out instantly. The boy's feet slid so lightly, almost like they were feet of cherubs dancing in the clouds.

"Ice Style: White Wolf Slash!" The young proudly declared the name of his attack – a lightning fast slash that would've been difficult enough to block but the real deceitful killer came from behind the youth – a rampaging blizzard in wolf's shape that threw blade sharp icicles with all the might and speed of a rampaging highest possible blizzard winds cutting to the deepest vessels of blood. To a bystander, it appeared like the wolf-shaped construct of nature's wrath slashed with its mighty paws and the ice paws melted from the warmth of the crimson blood.

Crimson it was...

But not blood. Shimo sheathed his blade and dashed backward carefully examining his opponent's supposed wounds, or where they should've been seeing only an intimidating red glow, a bubble of unknown origin that looked like pure chakra but it didn't burn the faint light blue like all natural chakra did – it was blood red. A forcefield of sorts of a bubbly shape protected Silverton perfectly shielding him from the slash.

Silverton grinned. "Did you really think that a tortoise swordsman like me would somehow not protect his own body?" He arrogantly quipped at Shimo's expense, or so he thought. After all the Yuki youth was well aware of Silverton's high experience and predicted some sort of trick being inside the void of blackness which was his sleeve.

"Slow?" Shimo wondered, "He considers himself "tortoise" slow... Was he really slow?" The young swordsman wondered to himself but could only realize that he may have gotten into a fight he could not quite cash with his blade. 

It was often a bad sign when one did not consider an attribute quoted by the opponent to be a glaring weakness as that weak, to begin with. Yes. Silverton was slow initially, but somehow the more he swung his massive blade the more its weight accelerated the swing, gravity itself improved his speed. The leader of Justicars was by no means slow but he thought himself slow because he faced opponents that were fast compared to him... If he survived such opponents Shimo should've had no hopes.

Silverton rolled forward, swiping upwards, Shimo leaned to the side avoiding the slash, now it was the exact opposite – when the gravity was working against the man his slashes de-accelerated the more they went, upwards swings were getting slower and slower each passing inch. The Justicar swung his blade around but Shimo dared not block it. Something looked way off here...

A cruel smile caught Silverton's face as the man twisted the edge of his blade and swung his stabbing sword to the side hitting Shimo with the blunt side and swatting him aside like a fly. A tree burst into millions of small shreds of wood after Shimo flew into it making the built-up pressure blow it up. The youth felt chakra leaving his body so fast that his ears were ringing, a taste of blood in his mouth... Blood tasted almost like iron, Shimo knew for he had tasted both in his life...