Chronos just threw a curve ball at me while I was walking around trying to figure out just how much I was impacted. I had only just started to get a handle on walking, now he wanted me to fight?
Chronos, did you not see my ass get handed to me?
With a smirk, Chronos gestured again to the dolls. "We’ll begin with the basics, proper form in punching, kicking, and defending. These fundamentals are the cornerstone of all martial arts. And with the Anchors, you'll learn not just the motions but how to execute them with significant resistance."
Ah, so these bracelets are called Anchors… wait no focus.
As we approached the first doll, Chronos demonstrated a straightforward punch, his arm slicing through the air with practiced ease. "Start simple," he instructed. "Focus on your form, the alignment of your fist, wrist, elbow, shoulder, all the way down to your stance. You have a knack for adapting so I think you’ll be fine for the time being. I just need to drill you with the basics before we do anything remotely close to real sparring."
I mimicked his stance, throwing a punch towards the doll. The weight of the Anchors turned my usual quick jab into a slow, deliberate motion. It was frustrating to say the least, I don’t know why he’s having me do this already when I don’t even understand the fundamentals. I get that he’s an Ascendant and knows what he’s talking about but I’m starting to feel like his standards are a little too high at the moment. I barely just reached the standards for physique.
"Not bad, but you’re still too stiff," Chronos commented, adjusting my arm slightly. "Relax your shoulders. Every unnecessary bit of tension is going to wear you out faster, especially with those on. If that’s not enough just use the idea of you being ridiculously fast as your motivation."
Punch by punch, kick by kick, Chronos guided me through the exercises, correcting my posture, enhancing my technique, and always reminding me to be mindful of the added resistance. After roughly fifteen minutes I was starting to get the hang of it and fell into a rhythm. Enough to the point where I zoned out and Chronos was no longer giving me any pointers.
I essentially had tunnel vision while repeating the same combo. Left jab, right cross, shin kick, and a body upper cut.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
In my head I kept counting after hitting each combo perfectly. My body began to move smoothly with every motion. I stopped counting after reaching thirty.
Then Chronos clapped his hands together, stopping me from throwing a right hook. He gave me a nod of approval and walked over to the control panel. He made a few adjustments then winked at me. After he winked the doll came to life and got into a basic fighting stance.
As I stopped counting and allowed the seamless flow of punches and kicks to carry me, Chronos watched attentively until I reached the end of my repetitive sequence. He clapped his hands sharply, breaking me out of my focused state with a broad grin. “Nice Rai! You’re getting the hang of it, but let’s not turn you into a one-trick pony,” he joked as he walked over to the control panel of the training doll.
“Knowing combos are great and all, but they mean nothing if you can’t find an opening to use said combo,” Chronos mused. He fiddled with the settings on the panel, programming the doll.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, chuckling. “No shit Sherlock, so does this mean I can take off the Anchors now,” I replied. I watched with apprehension as the doll whirred to life, its limbs moving with mechanical precision.
Chronos turned back to me with a smirk. “Take them off? Of course not, matter of fact, you aren’t taking those off until I say so. The more you ask, the longer I will need to contemplate if they should be taken off or not.” He gave me a playful wink and thumbs up as if this whole operation was my idea.
Hahaha you piece of sh-
He clapped his hands and pointed toward the doll, “Enough stalling, let's get started.”
Positioning myself in front of the now active doll, I watched as it raised its arms in a basic defensive posture. Chronos shouted from the control panel, “Alright, start with the same combo. Let’s see if you can land it when it’s not just air you’re hitting.”
Taking a deep breath, I launched into the sequence: left jab, right cross, shin kick, followed by a body uppercut. The doll reacted, blocking the jab and the cross with smooth, precise movements. It felt strangely exhilarating to see the immediate feedback of my attacks being parried.
Each blocked move only heightened my determination, turning what started as a routine drill into a personal challenge. With the weight of the Anchors dragging at every limb, my movements were sluggish at first, forcing me to exert more effort than I expected. But instead of discouraging me, the resistance sharpened my focus.
Chronos’s voice echoed from the control panel, his tone a mix of instructor and cheerleader. "Keep at it, Rai! Notice the patterns, find the gaps. It's not just about hitting; it's about hitting smart. Don’t be afraid to mix it up either, I’m not raising a ‘by the books bitch’ so see what you can do."
The doll resumed its defensive posture, seemingly unbothered by my increasing aggression. As I repeated the sequence, I began to see patterns in the doll's movements, tiny delays in its reactions, predictable patterns in its defense. It was like decoding a puzzle, each parried strike revealing a clue on how to break its guard.
My breathing grew heavy, yet my mind raced with excitement. The Anchors, once a cumbersome burden, now seemed like a vital part of the game. Each weighty movement forced me to be more deliberate, to plan each strike not only with power but with precision.
Left jab, then feint the cross, go for the shin, no, double back, uppercut now!
The doll, programmed for basic defense, couldn't adapt quickly to my changing tactics. I found a rhythm, exploiting the slight lag after it blocked my shin kick to land a solid uppercut. The impact felt satisfying, a tangible hit that sent a small shock through the arm of the doll.
"Yes! That's it! Find the holes in its defense!" Chronos shouted from across the room, his voice laced with excitement. His enthusiasm fueled my own, transforming the drill into a thrilling challenge.
I pushed harder, mixing feints with rapid strikes, learning to move with the weight as if it were a part of me. Each successful hit built my confidence, and soon I was moving more fluidly, the Anchors no longer a hindrance but a tool that forced me to perfect my technique.
Chronos nodded approvingly, adjusting the settings on the control panel to slightly increase the doll's response time. "Don't let up, Rai. Keep at it. You're training not just your body, but your mind. Adapt and overcome."
The session stretched on, my initial exhaustion overtaken by a rush of adrenaline. I was more than just practicing moves; I was learning to dominate, to control the fight. The doll, with its predictable patterns, became less of an opponent and more of a stepping stone, something to sharpen my skills against.
Chronos watched my burgeoning confidence with a mix of pride and calculation. As I landed another successful combo on the doll, he turned back to the control panel, his fingers hovering over a new set of commands. "Time to raise the stakes," he murmured, almost to himself, and pressed a button.
“Wha-,” Instantly, the dynamic of the drill shifted. The doll, previously only defensive, adopted a more aggressive stance. Before I could react, it launched a counterattack, its arm extending with surprising speed to deliver a firm push against my chest.
Caught off guard, I stumbled backward, unprepared for the sudden change in the doll's behavior. It advanced, following up with a series of programmed strikes, quick, precise jabs that I struggled to block. Each hit was a shock, forcing me to retreat and regroup.
"Chronos, what the-" I gasped, trying to fend off the relentless doll. My previous rhythm was shattered; the added weight of the Anchors now felt like a disadvantage as I struggled to keep up with the doll’s enhanced aggression.
"Adapt, Rai! Fight back!" Chronos called out, his voice a mix of encouragement and challenge. He stood by the control panel, observing intently but making no move to intervene.
The doll's movements were methodical and unyielding, each block and counter a learning program in action, designed to exploit my hesitations and mistakes. I took a hit to the shoulder, then another to the midsection, the impacts forceful but non-damaging, designed to teach rather than injure.
Regaining my footing, I tried to remember Chronos’s earlier lessons about being fluid, about adapting. I shook off the initial shock and focused, trying to predict the doll's patterns. It was a tough round, each exchange sharp and fast, pushing me to the edge of my capabilities.
As the doll continued its assault, my initial irritation at being caught off guard transformed into an intense frustration with myself. Each block, each evasive maneuver from the doll felt like a direct challenge, pushing me to my limits. The Anchors weighed heavily on my limbs, compounding my struggle, making each movement a battle against both the doll and the gravity that tethered me.
Chronos, observing the escalating intensity, subtly adjusted the controls, amping up the pressure further. The doll's attacks became faster, more precise, mimicking the relentless advance of a skilled opponent. I took a hit, then another, the strikes clean and controlled, yet forceful enough to leave me reeling.
As the doll intensified its assault, my initial frustration morphed into something else, an unfamiliar thrill that prickled at the edge of my consciousness, difficult to identify amid the flurry of motion and impact. With every strike I blocked or failed to evade, a sharp clarity began to cut through the haze of irritation and pain. I wasn't just reacting anymore; something deeper was stirring within me, a sensation that tingled along my nerves, electric and raw.
The doll’s mechanical precision, which had initially overwhelmed me, now spurred me on. As the attacks came faster, my response shifted from defensive to analytical. Each movement of the doll, every defensive posture it adopted, I scrutinized with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
Chronos, noticing the change in my demeanor, remained silent, allowing the experience to unfold. The more I engaged, the more the sensation clarified into pure, unadulterated excitement. This wasn't just another training bout, it was a challenge that called to the very core of my being, igniting a fierce joy that I had never associated with combat.
As this realization dawned, time seemed to dilate around me. The doll's movements, once so swift and overwhelming, now appeared almost languid, as if I were watching them through a thick lens of water. My body moved with a responsiveness that surprised even me, each counter and strike executed with a precision that felt almost preternatural.
It was as if a switch had flipped. Every cell in my body was attuned to the moment, each sense sharpened not by fear or desperation, but by exhilaration. With this new-found excitement fueling me, I danced around the doll's attacks, finding rhythm in what had been chaos. I started to anticipate, to predict, not merely react. Each successful block and each evasive maneuver built my confidence and honed my focus to a razor's edge.
I pushed further, my mind racing ahead of the actions, planning moves and counters with a strategic acumen I hadn’t known I possessed. The doll, sophisticated as it was, couldn’t match the human intuition and adaptability that surged through me. It became less a trainer and more a catalyst, pushing me towards a deeper understanding of its technique.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
As the session persisted and my understanding deepened, each engagement with the doll became a calculated exchange. It started when I dodged a rapid jab, stepping aside with a swiftness that surprised even me. The movement was fluid, instinctual, and it set the tone for the remainder of the fight.
I circled the doll, my eyes locked on its mechanical limbs. Each time it initiated a strike, I found myself moving in response almost before the movement was fully underway. My body responded as if on autopilot, each dodge and block not just reactive but anticipatory.
Chronos, from his position at the control panel, adjusted the intensity of the doll's attacks. It threw a combination, a swift jab followed by a hook and then a low sweep. I managed to block the jab, felt the whoosh of the hook near my ear as I ducked under it, and then jumped over the sweep. Each movement was sharp, each breath I took timed with precision.
"Use the environment," Chronos called out. His voice was eager and excited. "Control the space."
Taking his advice to heart, I maneuvered the doll towards one corner of the mat, limiting its ability to move freely. This tactical positioning gave me a slight edge, allowing me to dictate the pace of the encounter. When the doll attempted to push forward, I used its momentum against it, sidestepping and then pushing it slightly off balance with a well-placed palm against its torso.
The physical exertion was intense, compounded by the relentless pull of the Anchors. Each movement required double the effort, yet the thrill of the challenge kept fatigue at bay. My muscles screamed, but my mind was clear, focused singularly on the unfolding combat.
The doll adapted, its programming sophisticated enough to vary its tactics. It attempted a feint, one arm darting forward in a jab while the other prepared a powerful cross. Recognizing the ruse, I parried the jab and spun away from the cross, finding myself behind it momentarily. Seizing the opportunity, I delivered a controlled but firm kick to the back of its knee joint. The impact was satisfying, calculated and effective.
"Yes! Keep up the pressure!" Chronos encouraged. His voice was a mix of coach and spectator, clearly enjoying the display of learned skills being so effectively applied.
I pressed on, weaving around the doll's increasingly desperate strikes. My attacks became more aggressive, jabs, hooks, and an occasional experimental uppercut, testing my range and the doll’s defenses. Each contact with the doll sent a jolt of adrenaline surging through me, reinforcing the thrill of the fight.
The doll, for all its programming, couldn't match my human adaptability. I exploited small delays in its reaction time, each successful strike fueling my confidence. Finally, as I landed a particularly sharp uppercut to the doll’s head, a move I had only observed and never executed with such precision before, Chronos hit the kill switch, and the doll powered down, its arms lowering slowly.
Breathing heavily, I fall back onto my rear, the immediate rush of the fight ebbing away, leaving a glow of accomplishment. Chronos approached, clapping me on the shoulder with a grin.
“That’s how you do it, Rai. This is what I was wanting to see.”
In heavy gasps I answered, “Oh… yeah? Well… I… I think… I…” Nevermind I can’t answer. My lungs were contracting as if they were on the verge of collapsing.
“I can’t believe you were going at it for nearly an hour. It’s not often I see unawakened last this long.” Chronos’ eyes widened and he shook his head, “Pause. I should have worded that better.”
Oh? He knows modern slag and when to use it? Heh, that surprises me.
I spat out a laugh, “Ha… at least… I wasn't… the… ah nevermind.” I just gave up on speaking. I just lay there as Chronos continued to go over the bout I had with the doll.
He was impressed to say the least. Then he crushed my hopes in a single sentence, “This doll in particular is primarily used for youth martial arts training so for your first time it went well.”
Huh?
The expression on my face must have spoken for me because Chronos followed up with, “Did I not mention that?”
“No… no you didn't,” I panted, sitting up now, a mix of indignation and humor lacing my tone. “I'm starting… to question… the good memory you gain as you advance, or… agh… if you're just… purposefully leaving out this information.”
He just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Who knows? Hey, now you know you can successfully beat a child with ease.” He lifted a hand, palm forward as if bestowing a dubious honor upon me. “Raiden Alaric, The Undefeated Beater of Children.”
Rolling my eyes, I managed to retort between gasps, “Oh, great… There's a title I was really aiming for… Next, you'll be having me spar with toddlers to truly… test my skills… agh… stopmakingmetalk.'”
Chronos’s laughter echoed around the room, his enjoyment of the situation evident. “That’s a great idea. But really, it’s about mastering control and precision, not the opponent. You did well, and that’s what counts.”
“Yeah, yeah… ‘everythings a lesson’... why do you go into teacher mode at random times? I’m starting… to question if you’re googling all of your motivational critiques,” I quipped, finally regaining enough breath to stand. “So since I’m only at the level of a drunk dad wondering why his beer retriever isn’t working. When do we get to spar?”
“Me, you, spar?,” Chronos replied with a smile, still amused. “You’re a funny guy Rai.”
“I’m the funniest guy I know, but what are you getting at?”
Waving me off as if it wasn’t a topic of debate he said, “You can’t spar me, at best I could show you some moves, but forget sparing me when you haven’t awakened yet.”
“Elaborate.”
“Just as I said, you aren’t awakened. Even when you awaken I can’t spar you until you’re at least given the Nexus title.”
I beckoned him to continue, “Listen Rai, remember that punch?”
I nodded, “Yes.”
Chronos paused, his expression shifting to a more serious tone, though a playful glint remained in his eyes. “That punch I showed you, the force behind it, the control, the Aura... even if I placed enough binds to cover my limbs, if that punch landed it would kill you or you’d lose a limb.”
I nodded, recalling the overwhelming power of that demonstration punch, the air itself seeming to tremble in its wake. Although I was still skeptical.
"Follow me," he said, a mischievous note in his voice as he led the way to a different part of the training facility. I guess he noticed my skepticism and wanted to show me what he meant.
We stopped in front of a heavy-duty punching bag, one that looked like it had seen better days but was still hanging tough from a reinforced beam. Next to it, on a small table, lay four binds, a sleek, metal cuff embedded with a gleaming jewel. However these were different, the jewel was a rich green instead of a pale green, as well as the etching having a different design that was more complex.
Chronos picked up each bind and slid it onto his wrist. The intricate patterns etched into the metal glowed faintly, and the jewel shimmered as it settled into place. He flexed his wrist, and the binds seemed to tighten, adjusting to his arm with precision. "These binds," he explained, "limit the flow of my aura, containing it so I don't accidentally cause too much destruction. Which I’m sure you know, but the way they work is by constantly sucking my aura out of me and using it as fuel to limit my usage. Placing four on me will give me just enough wiggle room to get the point across as to me not using aura. So to further get my point across…"
He turned a small dial on the side of each bind, and the glow from the jewel intensified. Stepping back, he focused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he took a deep breath. Then, with a fluid, explosive motion, he launched a punch at the punching bag.
The impact was like a gunshot, loud and sharp. The bag shuddered violently under the force, then, as if in slow motion, the seams burst outward, sending stuffing flying as the bag tore open from top to bottom. The remnants of the bag swung limply on the chain, a testament to the controlled yet devastating power Chronos had unleashed.
Holy shit…
I stared, wide-eyed, not just at the demolished punching bag but at the casual ease with which Chronos had unleashed such force. "That," he said, turning back to me with a wry smile, "is why we don't spar just yet. My control is good, almost perfect, but with power like that, it's better to be cautious. While I know I could hold back enough to not hurt you too badly, I’d rather not take the chance since just my base strength alone is too much."
“Even if I wear every limiter available,” Chronos continued, “just a glancing blow could be too much for someone who hasn’t undergone the necessary evolution. Your body, your Aura, they aren’t ready to handle that level of force. Not yet.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, “So you’re telling me I’m too weak and fragile to spar with you?”
“Fragile isn’t the word I’d use,” Chronos chuckled. “Let’s say, unrefined. Think of it like this: trying to spar with me now would be like entering a high-speed race with a bike.”
I crossed my arms, amused yet intrigued by the analogy. “And I suppose you’re the high-performance sports car in this scenario?”
“Exactly,” Chronos grinned, clearly enjoying the analogy. “And you’re a smart bike, but still, a bike. Now, once you advance past the Nexus, reach the Red rank, then we’ll talk about sparring. At that level, your body and Aura will have evolved enough to at least withstand the basics of what I can throw at you.”
“So, what would happen if you didn’t have any binds on,” I asked.
He gave me a confident smirk, “Then everything in front of my fist within a three mile radius would be destroyed from the shockwave alone.”
I paled at that, then I realized why his estate was so massive.
“I’m a patient guy, I can wait a few… decades,” I said, my voice cracking as I speak.
Hey, I can admit when I'm wrong.
Chronos gave me a smirk, “That massive grin on your face is telling me you aren't as patient as you claim.”
It was then I noticed that my face was stretched into a wide, exhilarated grin, the adrenaline of understanding the scale of power I was aspiring to clearly etched across my features. It was a realization that hit with the force of a revelation, I was, in fact, thrilled by the prospect of eventually facing such immense power.
"Questioning your sanity yet?" Chronos teased, noting the wild excitement in my eyes.
"Yeah, maybe a little," I admitted, laughing despite the seriousness of our conversation. "It's kind of insane, isn't it? Being excited about getting to a point where I can take a hit that could potentially level a small town."
Chronos's laughter joined mine, a rich sound that filled the training area. "It's not insanity; it's passion. It's what drives all Ascendants. You're starting to feel the weight of what you can become, and it’s exhilarating, isn't it?"
"It is," I said, the grin never fading. "I mean, here I am, getting excited about achieving a power that could obliterate everything in a three-mile radius. Most people would run from that kind of responsibility, but here I am, practically bouncing on my heels to get started."
"That's the spirit I like to see," Chronos replied, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
I then asked, “Just how much did you hold back when you showed me the punch? You weren't wearing any binds.”
"When I did that first punch, I was not only holding back the force but also intentionally stopped putting any real weight behind it as soon as my arm began to move. It was crucial to control the momentum to prevent any unintentional injury."
He continued, explaining the layered precautions he took. "The reason I did this is simple but critical. Even a marginally full-forced punch, given my level of power, could be lethal. That's why I set up an aura barrier around you immediately. Without it, the punch could have been fatal due to the sheer kinetic energy and aura infused within it."
Chronos then described how he managed his own aura to prevent any damage to the surrounding environment. "I completely suppressed my aura in the arm I used to strike. This wasn't just to protect you but to ensure there was no collateral damage to the building itself. A full release of aura in a confined space like this can have devastating effects, not just the immediate blast but structural damage due to the shockwaves."
He gestured to himself, outlining another layer of precaution. "Finally, I set up another barrier around myself. This was an additional form of protection, a secondary containment to ensure that if any control over my aura slipped, it wouldn’t go beyond this secondary barrier. It's like having a failsafe; even if the primary control measures falter, the secondary one holds."
Chronos's detailed explanation highlighted not just the complexities of wielding such power but also the inherent risks involved. "Handling aura of this magnitude is not just about offensive capabilities. It’s equally about defense and control. Every time I use my power, I have to be acutely aware of these layers of protection, not just for my own safety but for everyone around me. Although these won’t be as necessary if you have a team that is on the same level as you or if you are well coordinated. Not to mention your control will improve the more you advance."
“So in other words, you wanted to show off a bit to turn it into a quick lesson while also showing how strong you are,” I said, half-teasing.
Chronos feigned a wounded expression, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “Well, when you put it that way, it ruins all the effort I put into the buildup. Oh, how you wound your poor master.” He wiped a metaphorical tear from his eye, his smirk betraying his amusement.
“Alright, alright, I get the point. Until I reach Red rank, you aren’t sparring with me,” I conceded.
He nodded affirmatively, “Correct.”
“So, what do we do now?” I asked, looking toward the remainder of the day.
He raised an eyebrow, a hint of mischief in his tone. “What do you mean? It’s almost 4 PM, it’s time for your flexibility training.”
“Okay,” I said, holding out my wrists expectantly. “The Anchors, aren’t you gonna take them off?”
“What are you doing?” he asked, feigning confusion.
I shook my wrists, making the weights clank slightly. “The Anchors, you’re not planning to keep them on me for flexibility training, too, are you?”
He laughed heartily, “Oh no!”
I sighed with relief, already reaching to unclasp them.
But he continued, still chuckling, “You’re going to keep those on 24/7,” he stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
My mouth dropped open. “Oh, you mother-”