My arm shook with exhaustion and pain. Despite my best effort, it began to dip, exposing my chest. I moved my weapon to keep that area protected, to no avail. I watched in slow motion as it was knocked aside before striking me in one smooth motion. That hit was enough for me to feel something give inside me and, for the fifth time that day I collapsed.

“Wow,” Bastar said, staring at my collapsed body, “You really can’t fight.”

I responded as eloquently as I could, with an extended finger. The first time I did it, he looked at me weird until I could explain after Heather healed me. This time, he just laughed.

I looked up at my opponent and tried not to hate. It was my fault really, for not catching on quick enough, and for my arrogance. The first bought I tried to not strike, seeing as it was a girl. That got disillusioned when she broke my knee. The second bought I tried to pull my strikes, as she was 11. That responded with me disarmed and a sword point at my neck. The third I attempted to fight all out, using my height as an advantage. To that, she toppled me easily. At that point, my opponent was swapped with someone less experienced.

I stared at the 4-year old who looked close to crying. At least the 7-year old boy looked happy when he knocked me out. I attempted to smile through the pain.

“That was a great hit.” I spat out with some blood. “If you keep that up, you are going to go far kid.”

Her eyes began to well with tears. Confusion hit me until I remembered colloquialisms did not travel with me. Back peddling, I explained.

“I mean you are going to be one of the best people in the Empire.”

She nodded at that before looking to Bastar. With a motion, she scampered off. I felt now familiar hands touch me as Bastar’s familiar boots filled my vision. As Heather healed whatever the damage was this time, Bastar grabbed my hand and pulled me up. It was gentle compared to the first time he helped me up but still felt like he was trying to dislocate my arm.

“I don’t think sparing is for you.” He began once I reached my feet. “And that doesn’t leave me with a lot of options.”

I nodded as I noticed toddlers chase after each other with foam swords, axes, and spears. They squealed with delight as they repeatedly struck each other. All around me were other groups of people of similar ages, all sparing and practicing with their weapons. And all looked more human than any other person I had seen so far.

Heather explained that the changes occur after puberty when the body first allows active cultivation. Until then, any passive cultivation is to help the children grow and survive. It also allowed them to beat up people over twice their age if they had never cultivated before, but that was a learning experience for everyone.

“Can you at least show me how to use these?” I asked. Training so far consisted of me being given a sword and a shield and told to go at it. To my knowledge, the sword was sword-like with a point and an edge, both dulled. It was lighter than I expected, allowing me to easily maneuver it in air. The first shield they attempted to give me was shaped like a kite and would have covered most of my body. It also felt like it weighed as much as my body. We eventually settled on one that almost covered my chest.

“That is what sparing is supposed to do,” Bastar counted. He stroked his chin while loudly exhaling through his nose. “Alright, I want you to stand as if we are going to fight.”

I did as he asked. I attempted to copy my last opponent’s stance. I held my shield close to my body, covering my chest while I positioned my sword straight up beside me. Before Bastar could do anything, Heather scoffed and pushed me from behind. I flat onto my face.

“Stances begin with your feet.” Bastar began. He had a lecturer tone, even as I heard Heather smirk behind me. “Position your feet so that you can’t get pushed over, hold your shield so it can absorb a hit, and keep your sword ready to strike.”

I groaned as I rolled over. This time no one helped me get up. Rather they just looked at my prone form. Staring up at them, a question rolled into my mind. Without a moment’s thought, I gave voice to it.

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“Why am I learning to fight with weapons when I might change into a form that can’t use weapons?”

“When are you going to start changing?” Bastar inquired.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“Then this training will help you until you do. Besides, the fighting experience is good for you. Now get up before we start kicking you.”

I scrambled to my feet. With a nod from Bastar, I began again. Feet planted, shield held, sword kept ready, and a push from the side I was toppled. Instead of instruction, this time I was met with kicks. I say kicks but I am sure they meant light boot taps. Either way, it hurt.

That proceeded until something inside me broke. Then I was healed, and the process was repeated. When I attempted to explain that with enough force, they could always topple me over, they brought over another kid from the 4-year old group.

I watched as the boy planted himself and was failed to be pushed over by Heather, Bastar, or I. Bastar then grabbed a 2-meter-tall monster to try. The kid still did not fall. I then attempted to copy his stance and Bastar gratefully let the kid push me over.

As if inspiration had struck, he grabbed the rest of the boy’s group and they played a fun game of “push Vee over and kick him.” They were really good at it. And they seemed to have a lot of fun with it too. So, positives where I can take it.

I put up with it, doing my best to succeed where I failed every time. It did not matter how low I got, or how I positioned my legs. No matter what I did, they pushed me over without issue. Bastar did allow half the group to split up and let them copy the exercise. I watched whenever I was on my feet to see how they stopped from falling over. Did not help.

After nearly crushing a kid as I fell, I considered enhancing my eyes to see if that would help me see better. After a good strike to my hip that felt like it nearly shattered my pelvis, I considered enhancing my skin or bones to hopefully resist this training. I stopped myself before doing anything specific though, Wuinal’s warning still in my head.

It was a kick to the temple that changed everything. My vision swam as Bastar and Heather rushed in, stopping anything else. I could barely make out Bastar grouping the kids together, probably to lecture than on the dangers of head strikes. Heather placed her hands on either side of my face and proceeded to heal me as she always did. It was during that moment, where disorientation met desperation that inspiration struck. I felt her extrude mana into my skull and brain to repair anything that may have gone wrong. It felt like water flowing through me, finding dips to pool in. One of those pools happened to be my eye.

I could see mana during her repair. As my vision cleared, I could see how everybody had a coating of it, and how it bled into the ground. As the healing stopped, the mana sight also stopped, but the correlation continued.

I smacked my head, much to Heather’s annoyance, at my stupidity. This was a realm where Magic controlled everything. Magic in a person was their mana, and they used their mana to anchor themselves to Magic. That was where I was failing. Muscles and physics could only do so much, it was the extension beyond that made them unmovable.

“Bastar,” I began. “I think I understand where we are going wrong.”

He looked at me before giving me a continue motion.

“Can you teach me how to use my mana?” I asked.

“No.” He said.

“What?” I sputtered.

“Can’t teach you how to use mana. Don’t know how to use mana.” He shrugged at that before letting the kids surround me.

I looked to Heather and she shook her head. My eyes bulged at that, considering she literally just healed me with mana. Before I could ask for more clarification, the kids pushed me again.

As I fell and rose and fell and rose, I attempted to visualize what I wanted to happen, the mana from the soles of my feet penetrating the ground and holding fast. It worked, in a way. At the next push, my feet held fast. The rest of me swayed uncontrolled, but my feet did not move.

I smiled with my success when the next push happened, and I fell again. This time, I did not rush to my feet and let the kids get their one kick in. I could hear Bastar counting to five. This was a rule he added after the one kick rule, which he added when the kids’ kicks prevented me from rising. After the five count, the kids could kick to their heart's content.

I figured it out. Visualization was key. Practice would be essential. At the four-count, I rose once more, a real smile on my face. The kids looked at Bastar worriedly before he gestured for them to continue. The smile dipped some as I realized they could tell the previous ones were fake that I kept on for their sake.

This time I imagined not the soles of my feet, but rather boots that I stepped into that was welded to the floor. I still swayed but did not fall. After three pushes, my concentration broke enough that they got another kicking round in.

It repeated again and again, each time I visualized more support for my body. Until, at last, every kid had tried to push me, and I was left standing. I laughed in joy, thrusting my arms in the air when Bastar poked me. I fell over.

I groaned as I looked at him. He had a smile on his face as he nodded.

“A good start.” Was all he said before he turned back to the kids.

I nodded; grin still stupidly plastered to my face.

“A good start.”