It was immensely satisfying that there were expedient messages from Carlitos and Aridasa after things were over. They didn’t really say anything of substance- they were basically just tests. Even so, replies were sent and the weeks-long process could continue. At the logical insistence of some, the communications devices they had given were slightly less than optimal. Best not to give away useful tactical information. Information could travel between the systems much more quickly than their ships, and there was constant work to minimize that time lag.
Now that they had returned, Anton focused on his own recovery. His injuries were minor, but there was a deep fatigue that built up from repeated combat, especially concerning the energies he called upon through Fleeting Youth.
Anton also had to consider how he’d known to pull away from Roistea. There was a decent chance they could have taken out the force they had come up against, though with losses. That was presuming there wasn’t anything else lying in wait, however. Anton wasn’t certain about that.
All cultivators developed an intuition for danger, particularly during Spirit Building, but as with all of cultivation there weren’t necessarily hard limits. Anton did train in gathering and processing information, but predictive abilities in that manner weren’t really part of it. If it was merely intuition he would accept it, but if it was something he could control he would prefer to develop it further.
He thought back to what he sensed. Nothing really stood out. More or less standard barriers for the Sylanis Cluster. Perhaps a vague sense of the two Worldbinding cultivators they knew would be there. As for beyond that, there was nothing Anton could name. There was more, but he couldn’t really describe it or its origin immediately. He would have to keep pondering on the topic, though whether it would produce fruit was unclear.
-----
“... and if you really want to make them mad, burn down their favorite building, desecrate the gravesite of their favorite ancestor, or run off with one of their most eligible female disciples,” Everheart finished his instructional segment.
“I will defer to your expertise as the most hated man in the galaxy,” Anton inclined his head, “But I feel like perhaps those are only useful if you want a group to be mad at you. It seems relatively inefficient for starting wars between sects.”
“Just put on a wig,” Everheart said. “Nobody will know. Instant war.”
“I-” Anton’s eyebrow twitched. “Please don’t tell me that actually worked once.”
“Three times before I hit fifty,” Everheart grinned. “I suppose it takes a bit more effort to deal with ‘proper’ cultivators though.”
“Well, I’m not having any part in that sort of thing,” Anton said.
“Yeah, you’d better not. You’re extremely obvious,” Everheart said. “You should really take up a few dozen alternate fighting styles. Maybe start with wrestling.”
“Wrestling.” Anton said flatly. “Why that?”
“It’s not too bad for close combat, and it’s fun to take down burly muscle guys by tying them into a knot. Strikes are fine if your opponent is unarmored, but you need more than that.”
“I know how to wrestle,” Anton said. “But I would be many times more effective just shooting them.”
“What if you don’t have your bow?” Everheart asked.
“I can literally make bows appear from nowhere,” Anton gestured to a dozen bows suddenly floating around them.”
Everheart leaned forward, a massive energy pressing down on the area, forcing Anton’s aura back. He didn’t actually force it all the way back to Anton’s skin, just made the point that he potentially could. “What if your opponent completely suppresses your aura?”
“Then they can probably just kill me,” Anton shrugged.
“What if you have to fight somewhere with energy completely negated?”
“Such a place actually exists?”
“Rarely,” Everheart said. “What would you do?”
“Wish I had a gun,” Anton shrugged. That would be the best weapon for his fighting style that could be made to not rely on energy at all. Would it be worth bringing along something for an extremely improbable condition? Could he even access his storage bag in such a place, if he ended up in one without warning?
“Or,” Everheart said. “You wrestle.”
“There are dozens of steps between what I do in an optimal situation and when I would fall back on pure hand-to-hand combat,” Anton said. “But I get the feeling you just want to wrestle.”
“On one of those fancy tournament platforms, no energy.” Everheart saw Anton’s look. “... Fine, you can fortify your internals, just don’t augment your muscles or anything. I’ll know!”
“Will this actually be beneficial?” Anton asked.
“Only one way to find out!” Everheart stood up, throwing off his shirt. His bare chest wasn’t really anything exciting to look at. If Anton didn’t know better, he might be seeing a reflection of himself. A body of toned muscle clearly showing its age, covered in wrinkles, spots, and scars. “Stop hesitating!”
“For someone with centuries of age on me,” Anton said. “You sure are impatient.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He didn’t delay long in making his way towards one of the Order’s arenas. They could be used for training duels, but generally only when people intended to be serious. Because of the costs involved with powering the formations to keep people safe, they cost the disciples to use- though less than the actual price involved. Anton could easily afford to pay for the formations to be active, but frankly they wouldn’t mean anything in a battle with ‘Scholar Eulogius’. They could function with some reliability for even Life Transformation cultivators as long as they practiced some restraint, but it would be prohibitively expensive and seldom useful to have them work for anyone stronger. Perhaps in a few decades or a century it might see enough use to consider.
A few turned curious eyes to the pair as they walked through the sect. Of the two, Anton had kept his shirt on until they arrived, seeing no reason to walk around like that. He didn’t get cold easily, but he had his dignity. Something Everheart almost certainly did not.
“So, what are the rules?” Anton asked.
“I’m sure you can imagine.”
“Maybe,” Anton said. “But I will remind you that we do not always think the same. Communication might be useful.”
“Fine. Simple rules, really. Nothing crippling.” Everheart cracked his knuckles. “That’s all.”
Anton sighed. That was what he was going to get, then. He and Everheart both condensed their energy to inside of them. Anton felt strange, not augmenting his movements with energy. That was subconscious now, and he felt heavy.
There was no announced start of the action- Everheart simply tackled Anton to the ground. The hardest part was not determining what move he wanted to use, but not using energy. It was like holding his breath- unnatural, but possible if he thought about it.
Anton wasn’t inexperienced in unarmed combat, but he wouldn’t call himself an expert. Not among people of his cultivation level, anyway. He could probably still take down anyone in Body Tempering or maybe Spirit Building if they limited their energy usage even without energy himself, but those beyond the early years of cultivation would be more difficult to handle. Not everyone would reach Essence Collection in just six years, but nowadays on Ceretos taking more than two decades to reach that point was an oddity, even for the least talented.
It was quickly apparent that Everheart’s definition of wrestling did include strikes as he took swings at Anton’s face. It was odd, the attacks being so slow that he could have normally dealt with them trivially. His mind still processed at about the same rate, though it could be further enhanced by natural energy in battle. His body, however, was sluggish. He could tell his arms to move into position, but it was like dragging them through mud.
Anton managed to get a grip on Everheart’s wrist and throw him back over his head, giving him enough time to reorient himself as he got to his feet. Without natural energy flowing through it, his body was an uncomfortable mix of fit and old. His knees and back hurt from the motions, but it was nothing he couldn’t ignore. The mundane pains of a body he’d dealt with before becoming a cultivator, and now he’d experienced much worse.
It was not even the slightest bit surprising that Everheart fought dirty. Anton was simply startled to find the man had somehow managed to grab a handful of dirt somewhere as he threw it towards Anton’s face. At least his eyes blinked in time to shield himself from direct contact. It just meant he had to predict Everheart’s following move with his eyes closed. His knee kicked up, expecting another tackle.
Everheart was both predictable and not. Anton’s knee indeed struck him in a lowered shoulder, but the man was already prepared to grab Anton’s leg. Instead of mounting Anton he twisted him around, bending the leg in ways Anton didn’t know could happen without breaking something- and that was with extremely trained flexibility. He also didn’t think it could be done so easily, because he didn’t feel that Everheart’s muscles were particularly stronger than himself and yet he could barely resist.
At least his same flexibility allowed him to kick with his other leg at angles that weren’t normally possible, catching Everheart in the nose. Over the course of the next hour or so the bodies trained to somewhere above average cultivator standards received their fair share of bruises, lacerations, and even a few breaks- though they would heal quickly with the application of natural energy or the most basic medicines.
The battle ended when Anton saw an opening and kicked his foot between Everheart’s legs. He had honestly been expecting a counter of some sort, perhaps for his knee or hip to be immediately twisted out of its socket… but he properly connected. Everheart doubled over, just laying curled up in a fetal position on the ground for a full minute. “What the hell was that?” Anton asked. “You’re better than to get hit by that.”
“I just… wanted to see if I could force you to take the opening…” Everheart grinned from the floor. “Someones got to teach you to fight dirty.” Anton sighed, reaching out his hand to pull up the other man, bracing himself for the battle to continue, but Everheart just accepted it and pulled himself up, stretching. “Well, I think that’s enough of that for now. You’d never win a proper match, but at least you’re not useless.”
“Obviously,” Anton said. “I try my best not to leave any gaping holes in my abilities… despite how unlikely a situation like this would be nowadays.” Anton pondered for a second. “Think you could beat a body temperer?”
“Most of them?” Everheart nodded. “Sure thing. Maybe not everyone in Life Transformation, but I’ve got centuries of experience on everyone.” Given Everheart’s past, that might actually be centuries devoted to just wrestling, at least for one of his projections. “Wouldn’t even dream of it with Nthanda. Technique only works to a certain point. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hurt her with just my body if she let me.” He tapped his chin, “Are all of the lower realm worlds this amazing or is it just us?”
“You know all of the ones I do,” Anton pointed out.
“Good point. I’d say the Worldbinding numbers in the Sylanis Cluster are… fine. Certainly better than expected even if I’d known about the option. Rutera and Weos are too early to say, though I do like their big ship.” Anton hadn’t said anything about The Independence to Everheart- nor heard anything about him actually seeing it- but he wasn’t surprised. “Ceretos here seems pretty special. Maybe it’s just me?”
“Or maybe this is how lower realms should develop without upper realms invaders constantly suppressing them.”
“Or,” Everheart held up a finger, “Counterpoint- the constant invasions were required to eventually churn out something of worth.”
“I don’t want to entertain that thought.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I hate it,” Everheart stomped his foot. “This is our world, the upper realms can get their souls turned into mush if they think they are allowed to lay a finger on it. But conflict is likely a contributing factor.”
“I will concede it pushed some of us over the edge, but you didn’t participate in any of the invasions did you?”
“No,” Everheart admitted. “I was between them. But I’m special.”
“You sure are,” Anton nodded sincerely. Some of it was even meant in a good way.