Yerik Makarov was born and raised on Planet Dune and is the Chief Grandmaster of the Imperial Dwarven Ministry, serving under direct orders from the Dwarven Emperor himself.
While Dwarfs aren't as popular or as strong as the six leading races of the Divine Council, they are fairly well known for their craft. Whether it is ancient mechanisms that deal with magic, runes, bellowing forges, and so on, or modern machinery like circuits, scientific breakthroughs, and advanced technology, the Dwarven Race could handle them all.
And unlike the Gnomes, Dwarfs could live above and below the surface; they could even live under the sea and harness the power of nature with their craft.
To top this all off, dwarfs are also incredible fighters. They are known to take down creatures that are at least three times their size with no issues, bare-handed. Because of their innate excellence, they are in a perpetual warring state to fend off other races or space pirates from either stealing their things or enslaving their people.
They could've had it easier if the Dwarven Emperor lowered his pride and accepted the offer of the Wise Dragon Race to serve as their vassal race.
But that's enough about the Dwarven Race for now...what matters right now is that Yerik is having the fight of his life.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Steel meets steel, grit against grit. Yerik swung his collosal greatsword with all of his might to fend off a mighty enemy.
As they fought in outer space, especially with how intense their clashes were, it's unknown how many celestial bodies were destroyed by now. This fight has been going on for a while, after all.
The fact that Yerik himself vaguely remembered crashing onto a planet or an asteriod a couple of times by now seemed like a distant matter to him, like it's been so long since it happened that he almost forgot about it already, but in truth, it's only been a couple of minutes.
Yerik was sweating. His breathing was labored, and as time went on, his weapon felt like it was becoming heavier, making it more challenging to wield. Despite his exhaustion, the clarity and crisp concentration in his eyes remained obvious. He's also bleeding from head to toe caused by the numerous injuries he suffered from this ongoing battle, but he couldn't care less about these right now.
Oh, how he wished that this moment would last forever.
Boom! Clang! Boom!
Yerik's dwarven blood howled in glory as he clashed against this mighty enemy. His bloody lips wore a permanent grin, which made him look ferociously scary.
His collosal greatsword shone with splendor, cracking with thunder and lit with lightning. The runes on his armor shone with a blinding radiance as they increased his strength by consuming the blood he's shedding.
Yerik's sheer power shrouded his entire being; his hair and beard started floating up due to the sheer might he exuded. But his enemy was unmoved.
But not this one...
Yerik initially thought so too, but this brat kept coming back. Aside from the obvious loneliness reflected in his gaze, it's clear that the previous failures did not bother him at all.
This made Yerik realize that this brat isn't a stranger to this. And after a brief inquiry with his fellow staff members, he learned that the brat was truly consistent. He knows how to pace himself well and has worked hard to polish his weaknesses.
Sure, his aptitude might not be the best, but his work ethics and consistency could put even some of the more popular geniuses from the Divine Council to shame.
It only took 145 years for this brat to turn from a loser to a terrifying monster. Of course, one could say that the reason why this brat could push Yerik this far was because he had time to analyze him greatly. If this was a matter of life and death and they met for the first time on a real battlefield, Yerik would trample this brat under his boots.
But that's not what's important here. Yerik himself didn't care so much about that. What he cares about is this fight. He doesn't care about the process; the results are what matter to him.
And the fact that this brat grew to an astounding warrior this quickly and was able to push him this far was enough for Yerik to remember him.
Despite cursing the brat for being so sinister, striking at places that he's most vulnerable at, and leaving lethal injuries on his body, the fact that he made Yerik feel the thrill of real battle once more after so long was enough for Yerik to be grateful to him.
He's truly looking forward to the future growth of this brat. And if it's possible, maybe they could do this again in the future.
Clang! BOOM! Clang!
But as they say, 'No banquet lasts forever'.
Yerik vomitted blood, and his consciousness blurred. He looked blankly at the sword wedged into his heart, then at the brat who slew him for the first time. He felt mildly annoyed, not because he's dying but because this marks the end of this glorious fight.
"Good fight, Dawnbringer," Yerik laboriously praised, tapping the arm of the golden-eyed challenger.
"It's all thanks to your tutelage, Master Ye. I hope we can do this again in the future."
"Oh...I hope so too."
Yerik smiled as his eyes and consciousness turned blurry. He would, for sure, dream about this fight for a very long time.