Reincarnated with SSS-Rank Trait and Unique Ability-Chapter 11: Sparring

Ares' eyes lingered on the silver Jian in the prince's hand.

"Sparring?" he echoed, almost in disbelief.

He'd only ever sparred with Nicholas, and even then, the age and strength gap had made it impossible to call that a real sparring.

But now—standing across from someone closer to his age and build—something flickered to life inside him.

A burning feeling of resolve ignited.

The prince was only a few inches taller, his frame lean, his stance composed. There was no overwhelming aura, no crushing pressure—just pure confidence.

Ares shifted his footing and tightened his grip on his Soul Weapon.

His gaze sharpened.

"Very well—"

But before he could finish the sentence, the prince was already in motion.

With startling speed, he dashed forward. His blade carved through the air in a sweeping arc, silver blade gleaming beneath the gloomy, morning sky.

Ares barely had time to react. He gritted his teeth, shifted his weight, and brought his sword up just in time to block the strike.

Clang!

Steel met steel.

The impact rang out, jolting through his arms. His feet skidded slightly across the grass, but he held firm.

"You actually blocked it, huh?" the prince said, a wide grin stretching across his face. His eyes locked onto Ares', the two of them inches apart.

Ares didn't respond. He shifted his stance and shoved the prince's blade aside. Then, without delay, he swiftly launched a diagonal strike.

But the prince was faster.

He sidestepped with ease, and in one smooth motion, thrust his sword forward—stopping the tip just an inch from Ares' throat.

"Strike one," he said calmly.

Then, with deliberate control, he lowered his blade and stepped back, putting space between them.

"First to three wins," he added, his tone light—but his eyes sharp and focused.

Both fighters reset their stances, eyes fixed on one another, waiting for the slightest opening.

If it weren't for Nicholas, Ares wouldn't have even grasped what was happening. He had once underestimated swordplay—thinking it was simply brute strength and fast swings. But this... this was something else entirely.

Every movement demanded precision. Even maintaining eye contact with the prince required his full concentration. His muscles ached under the tension, every fiber of his body strained to respond at a moment's notice.

But the waiting didn't last.

The young prince dashed in again, his blade shimmering as it whistled through the air.

Clang!

Their swords clashed once more.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Blow after blow, steel rang against steel.

Despite their similar age, Ares could feel the difference. Those few extra years gave the prince a clear edge in raw strength. Every strike sent a tremor up his arms, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through.

A flash of memory surged in his mind—his father's final moment, an image burned into his soul.

If he couldn't handle this... if he couldn't even land a hit on some prince—how could he ever hope to avenge his father?

Determination hardened in his chest.

He closed his eyes for the briefest second and focused inward—on the mana flowing through his body. With practiced control, he guided it to his limbs, reinforcing the vital muscles—augmenting his body through raw will and discipline.

Then—he struck.

This time, the speed of his attack doubled. The prince's eyes widened in surprise as the blade came faster than expected. He raised his Jian just in time to parry—but the force drove it too far to the side, leaving his center open.

Ares stepped in.

With a fluid sidestep, he pressed the flat of his blade against the prince's abdomen.

"Strike one," he said, his breath heavy but steady. A grin tugged at his lips, mimicking the one the prince had worn just moments ago.

The prince looked down at the blade, then back up at Ares.

"It seems I underestimated you," he said, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. "Tell me, Ares. What's your rank?"

"Intermediate—First Stage," Ares replied, his voice firm.

"Ahhh, I see." The prince gave a short nod, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

"Then I must apologize. If that's the case... I shouldn't be holding back against a fellow Intermediate Rank."

Ares blinked. He'd suspected as much—but hearing it out loud still caught him off guard.

When he'd reached Intermediate Rank at his age, it felt like conquering a mountain. Most kids his age were still struggling to reach the second stage of Novice Rank. Yet, he had made the leap—achieved something that many considered near-impossible. For the first time, it felt like he was getting closer to his ultimate goal.

But now... standing across from someone just as young and just as powerful—if not more—the ground beneath that sense of achievement began to crack.

He clenched his jaw and tightened the grip around his Soul Weapon.

He dismissed all the hesitation and doubt and adjusted his stance. Then, he channeled mana to his limbs once more, augmenting his body—ready to strike.

The prince didn't linger.

His stance shifted and his entire presence changed. There was no sound, no flash—just a sudden weight in the air.

Ares felt it instantly.

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The pressure was subtle, yet undeniable—like gravity itself had thickened around them.

"Mana Augmentation"

But then... something else shifted.

A subtle hum.

Ares' eyes widened as he felt it—a new flow of mana, threading from the prince's core and bleeding into his weapon.

"The Enchantment?!"

It was too fast.

The silver Jian blurred, slicing through the air like a streak of lightning.

Ares couldn't react in time—his sword was too far, and his limbs were just a heartbeat too slow.

The prince's blade shimmered with mana, singing through the air as it closed the final inches toward Ares' throat.

He froze.

And in that moment—just one breathless moment—the world seemed to slow.