“You two have grown a little too reliant on each other.” Martha points out now that Bennett basically kidnapped Valka and I’m left with my old mentor. During lunch break... “It’s a good thing to have a really close friend you can always count on but overreliance can and will backfire. You both need to learn how to fend for yourselves, especially Valka.”

She’s basically saying we’re too good friends… and I agree. I have my own life and won't be able to always hold her hand and vice versa. It’s also very irritating to wake up with half my bed taken every morning.

“She’s not from here is she?” The old hag asks the obvious, not that I noticed it sooner after meeting the brute in question. “She’s awkward most of the time and is just copying you to not stand out. It doesn’t fit her.” She adds before I can ask how.

“Yeah, got dragged here from Korellia as a slave.” I tell her only as much as she needs to know, it's not my life to share after all.

“That’s… far.” Martha sighs.

That’s one way to put it but the distance shouldn’t matter anymore, Val has nothing resembling a home to return to. Just her promise, a buttload of determination, and me.

“What are your plans with her?” She switches to a much more difficult question to answer.

“More levels, more money, more freedom.” I shrug, detailing nothing and answering in broad strokes. “I want to help her and more importantly I will make sure she lives. I did promise to assist her in saving all the deadweight she calls her people but they mean nothing to me.”

Contrary to what I’ve hoped for, maybe a little scolding or another lecture, Martha’s face turns unreadable. It’s one of those instances where the topic and thus the answer are beyond simple wisdom.

“You know Eli, we thought the same of your parents back then.” She purses her lips. “They were of no use to us but reached out a hand because you had value in our eyes…” I know. Even at the age of nine, I realized that. “Don’t you think what you described to me is the same?”

“It’s not because…” I can’t find any solid reason. Yeah, I gave my word so it should be different, but is it? “I want Val to be happy and to achieve that we’ll help her fellow brutes.”

“And how is that any different?”

I… I don’t know.

“So what?” I mutter, thinking this is stupid and that she’s making things unnecessarily complicated. “Her parents are no more and her friends, if she has any left, are none of my concern. We rescue those who remain and that’s that, they can be on their way.”

“You’re right, the only question is whether that’s with or without Valka, isn’t it?” Martha flicks my forehead. “If you put a wedge between all of them and you, who do you think your little friend will choose when the time comes? That is what you should prepare for, the weight of holding everything together alone, relying on no one but yourself. I know we prepare you to work as organized squads but fending for yourself is just as important, especially for someone with your abilities. Now, I saw you in action but I’d love to hear a quick rundown of your Skills if you’d be so kind.”

Her words might sound like a request but that’s pretty far from the truth. The little brute and big brute called dibs on the courtyard so all that’s left for us is a simple balcony with quite over Granhall. More than enough space for some visual demonstration.

Martial Instinct is the first new acquisition that comes to mind and earns enthusiastic nods from Martha without any need for further details. “A solid Skill, although it can be quite risky when you’re on the edge. It helps you stay alive, which is the top priority, but can sometimes make you overshoot and do more damage than intended.”

No wonder it thrived on that fateful night in Solermo… But I won’t blame just a simple Skill alone for what happened, nor will I throw it away. What Martha said is right, I lived and that takes precedence.

Next up I reveal Rhythmic Strides, the most mediocre of my new Class Skills to which the reaction is as lukewarm as I expected. It’s a solid Skill but nothing earth-shattering. Ethereal Stage, however…

“Show me!” Of course, Martha doesn’t believe my words right away.

A simple trick of making five fireballs, all of them of equal size and power, each once pace away from the other in a line… simple, quick, and a little cool. Not like I can do much more without hurling something off right onto the streets.

“Drawbacks?” Martha teleports over to my burning mana to examine them. That’s right, she was too lazy to take three steps and instead used fucking spatial magic.

“Mana drain but not much else. Its range also isn’t all that impressive.”

“This is huge. Does it work across a wall?” She enters enthusiastic child mode, just like when she first learned about my Blessing.

“Depends on the wall.” I simply shrug. Material, thickness, magic infused, distance… It’s never simply a yes or no. “But there’s more.” I grin fiendishly.

Maybe the name Night Fiend wasn’t just a coincidence.

But once I show her how much more powerful Action for Reaction can make my magic… Martha only whistles with a satisfied face.

“That’s not bad, the previous one was better though.”

“No, it’s not!” I disagree vehemently.

“Yes, it is.” She chuckles. “Movements kill the element of surprise. It makes your attacks predictable, and an experienced fighter could recognize your pattern after a few clashes. It’s good, don’t get me wrong but you’re most definitely sacrificing a tactical advantage for raw power.”

Damn… she’s right.

“But I could also trick someone by mixing in spells without any movement.”

“Sharp.” Martha ruffles my hair. “You’re gonna do some serious ass-kicking once autumn is here.”

“Am I still gonna go to the Academy?” I inquire about one of my biggest concerns.

“With your level? Guaranteed. The minimum requirement for entry is the age of twelve and level 60.” Martha chuckles. “We want you to demolish everyone and promote the Fist. You right now are almost perfect for the task, young and well past your peers. A year difference might complicate things a little but you’re strong enough to make it all irrelevant.”

I appreciate her confidence in me. Believing that I’ll just beat every prodigy on the east side Eborden is a tall praise. I don't doubt my skills, just the plausibility of the task.

“What to expect?” The first rule, know your enemy.

“Nobles mostly.” Martha shrugs. “Only something like every twentieth student is a commoner out of the tens of thousands. They’ll arrive with top-notch education, the guidance of renowned teachers in their pockets, and maybe some secret Skills or Classes passed down within the family. Oh, and the best equipment money can buy.” Just wonderful. “Don’t pout, not all their parents are dukes or kings.”

Do I feel better now that not all are money-fueled cheaters? Nope, some still are they were my biggest concerns, to begin with. The renowned teacher and education part means little. A lot. I’ve only met a handful of people stronger than Martha or Bennett and all of them were either in the command room or leading a small army to assist the Line. I got that covered.

“The Fist will cover the equipment costs.” Martha says as if, again, reading my mind. “It would reflect poorly on us if you stood out there in garbage even a footsoldier wouldn’t wear.”

I hope I can keep the stuff they give.

Speaking of the Academy and winning some fight…

“How are the others doing?” I ask, the question obviously pointed at my squad.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Well, teamwork as a whole was never the strong point of your squad, and with three replacement members… it became even less stellar. They had to compete in different events ” Martha massages her temple. “August redeemed himself in the free-for-all with Victor coming in not too far.” Good shit guys. “Kayla found a difficult opponent in the duel despite being allowed to take four little friends with her. The guy flew up and poured down some acid, a nasty combination. She didn’t even reach the quarterfinals.”

That’s… not too stellar a performance indeed. Either the enemies are stronger than we imagined or they just got really unlucky matchups. Because power alone can’t win every fight, specialty and tactics matter just as much.

“Don’t you worry, those problems won't apply to you but if you fail the entrance exam…” She doesn’t finish the sentence and I don’t even dare imagine the punishment that would follow. Then her mood makes a complete U-turn. “So, wanna learn how to actually dance?”

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Valka POV:

I gulp and turn my sight forward, meeting a pair of cold gray eyes glued on me as if looking into my soul. The man steps after step, circling me around like a predator stalking its prey. His gaze runs up and down my body, eyes narrowing and lips thinning from time to time.

I’ve been inspected like this before being sold, or just simply presented to a potential buyer… These eyes are different, the intent behind them is different.

After the third round, he finally stops in front of me and pokes my shoulder. “You are not human, are you? Even if we disregard your age, humans your level can’t have a physique like yours.” He scratches his beard. “No tusk either so orcish ancestry is out of the question.”

“What?” I ask, both trying to process the question and make sure I heard him right.

“Your species. You’re not human so could you enlighten me? Or are you quarter orc?” He leans closer, staring at my face.

I look to the side subconsciously to avoid his uncomfortable gaze, taking a step back to distance myself from both him and the question. This is very much unlike me but the pressure and power oozing from his body… How can Eli be so cocky around him?

“Ah, I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything, of course, it’s but an old man’s curiosity.” He scratches his beard awkwardly. “Let’s move to the courtyard, there’s much you need to learn.”

In minutes we arrive back at the open area where I whooped Eli’s ass yesterday and showed her who’s boss. Few words were spoken on our way here and none of them were mine which was a little awkward…

“We have about an hour before the kids flood this place for afternoon training.” He stops on one edge of the field and waves me closer. “You could of course join them but that’d be a comical waste of your time. Although a group training against an overwhelming opponent… never mind.”

Well, I’m not jumping in excitement to run around with kids anyway. Not to mention I’d rather be with Eli than this weird and scary old man.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m just a little… curious. I’ll get to the point.” He nods as if sensing my unease. “I watched your fight yesterday and let me tell you the only reason you won was simply due to Elyssia’s reluctance to hurt you and because she couldn’t use fire. That and the location favored you, by a lot.” He drops the hammer mercilessly.

My hands curl into a ball at my side in frustration and I chew on my lips as I mutter. “I know.”

I know my victory was a hollow one. If Eli was seconds faster or my Speed and Endurance were lower even by a small margin she would’ve been the one left standing.

“I’d say your fighting style is a mess, however, in your case, there is no style to speak of in the first place.” Bennett’s words keep raining harsh criticism without any hint of easing. “I’ll say this plain and simple just for you. Elyssia is brilliant, resourceful, and frighteningly adaptive. If you don’t improve and do so fast, then I can’t see you beating her the next time.”

“This is how people in my tribe fight.” I snap at him for belittling what is mine. “This is our way.”

“Then your way is wrong!” He declares sternly. “Combat isn’t a kind of art where you can look at everything in a positive way and claim beauty in everything. There are good and bad, strong and weak ways of fighting.” He walks past me and after a few steps turns back and raises his arms. “Show me how you’d break through my defenses!”

His arms are held relatively close to his body, protecting the head and chest, while the legs are slightly bent and ready to shift the weight at a moment's notice. His eyes look at me expectantly and I just… can’t believe what he said.

That’s pretty straightforward but I don't think I can hurt him at all so let's just roll with it.

I step up to be in reach and search for holes in his defense and well… it’s like one of those holey cheese. Holes everywhere and that’s quite the opposite of what one would expect from a warrior this powerful.

In the end, since there’s nothing to lose I whip a fist at his left ribs, aimed just so he wouldn’t be able to pull his arm down in time. As I spring my fist he doesn’t even try to protect himself with his arms, instead stepping forward and leaning to the right, even matching my speed to make it fair.

My punch of course only grazes the wizened warrior, leaving me just a little open but completely on the backfoot. He capitalizes on the opportunity and sends a hook left where I aimed at first.

His angle of approach is just perfect, the distance between us is way too little, and my right arm is nowhere close enough to block his fist. The only thing left is to grit my teeth and prepare to take the hit as usual. But the pain never comes.

The approaching fist halts a hair’s berth from my side only for Bennett to step back right where he first picked up his stane.

Am I relieved? Surprised? Humbled? NO. I’m furious.

He’s disrespecting me by pulling his punch, by looking down on me so much that even taking his lesson, this mock battle serious enough. Learning from failures is what I was taught since childhood. If someone hits you during a spar it was meant to hurt, to teach the body if not the lazy mind. To make you remember that feeling whenever you're about to commit the same stupid mistake.

Yet he denies me even that…

My blood boils at his uninterested face simply staring at me as I, who I am and what I’ve worked for was all… irrelevant. Shaking uncontrollably I raise my fists again, whether it is to punish or to prove… something, for either him or myself.

A punch slapped away, another simply avoided by taking a step back, a wide swing stopped at the elbow and there comes the retaliatory strike for leaving myself open once again. Only for the fist to halt and retreat again.

Why? WHY?

“WHY?” I shout and continue my relentless assault.

Never do I manage to get even close to landing a hit, not even on his arms. His bulky body that’s although smaller than dad, considerably wider and heavier than mine, evades my moves like a falling leaf in the autumn wind.

He counters every time I abandon my defenses and never so much touches me with his fist.

I’d be dead by now if I ate all those hits. I… I don’t stand a chance.

My arms drop and I just look at the man who trampled on my pride with teary eyes. “Why?” I beg for an answer. “Why do you always stop? Am I that weak?”

He stands back up and frowns. “Yes.”

I feel something break inside me. Something that gave me the confidence and strength to face whatever came my way until now. “I can take it. I can heal.” I whisper. “I’m tough, I’m strong, you said it yourself.”

I tighten my fist and slam into into my face to do what he failed to. To make this laughable farce into more than my humiliation.

“I can take it!” I argue. “Our people learn from the pain of failure so just-”

“What stings more, Valka,” Bennett steps closer and pulls my shaking fist down. “that punch or being faced with your weakness? Clinging desperately to something that pulls you back can’t and won't make you stronger.” He asks with a calming voice.

His words overwhelm me with the truth and I break out crying like a child.

“There are two kinds of pain.” He whispers. “The sort of pain that makes you strong, allows you to grow as a person… and useless pain. We warriors take it upon ourselves to put our bodies in harm’s way so others may live but too much pain always, and I mean always, changes us for the worst. No one can endure forever and thus we need to avoid injuries whenever it is possible.”

It’s frustrating, so frustrating. He didn’t need to tell me that the style passed down by my parents was wrong, that it was faulty, and even prove it by humbling me. I knew, both against beasts and people, but it's the only thing they left me, it’s all I have. To simply walk away from it…

I cry shamelessly as arms gently wrap around me. “You’re a prisoner of your past however moving on doesn’t always mean losing something.” Bennett quietly whispers. “You have a goal, you have people you care about, you have the drive to become so much more…”

Please don’t.

“You have to choose.” He says the words I feared.

I can’t. If staying stubborn will make it all more difficult then so be it, I’ll just endure and march on like I always have.

Bennett pulls back and grabs my shoulders firmly. “Who showed you how to fight?” He asks.

“My father.” I answer between sobs.

“Would your father wish to see you chain yourself to his methods? Is he such a petty person to force his daughter to follow in his footsteps just because of his pride?”

Those simple questions make me freeze and change it all in my mind. The images in my mind of his proud smile, those tired eyes accompanying my selfish request for attention even after coming back from a hunt. The joy we shared whenever I won a brawl, the hugs, the pieces of advice he showered me with…

Never. My father would’ve never. We knew our ways were crude but still used what we could to survive. Yes, both Mom and Dad would’ve pushed me forward, to see me soar.

“No.” I answer firmly.

Voices of children approaching echo on the corridor leading to the practice ground as I take some deep calming breaths.

“Then wipe your tears before anyone sees you like that.” Bennett smirks and covers me while the students arrive in the courtyard, hiding my unsightly face. “You have much to learn.”

I sniff and rub, laughing softly both at him and my own stubbornness.

They’d never want to see me dragged down by what they gave with so much love. Besides, I can’t let Eli win the next time we face off.

“I’m ready.” I declare after the sorrow and self-pity morph into resolve.

“I hope whatever fire is burning in you is still hot because you’ll wish you never said those words at the end of the day.” He nods and guides me to a corner so we don’t disturb whatever the other kids are here for. “First, you fight like a man.”

I’ve never heard that insult before. I fight like a warrior, with bare hands and iron will.

“My point is that men are top heavy, our upper body is more muscular by nature.” He explains and I nod. “You throw your hands almost exclusively, just like a man. I’m not telling you to stop using your fists, just don't overly rely on them.” Demonstrates a kick that whistles through the air. “Besides, your legs are longer than your arms and your body is more flexible than that of a man, they allow for greater reach and more combinations.”

I think I know what he’s on about. Stats affect the body but in the end, it's the base they are strengthening. He’s saying that even if I had as much Might as Dad I would never be able to punch as hard.

“So what now?” I ask, hopeful that this man will help me achieve what Eli promised.

Strength.

“Everything. From your breathing to your stance, from your approach to your instincts.” He smiles. “We’ll rework everything.”