It turns out that getting trained in swordsmanship takes a lot of time and effort. I don't have time to learn both fist fighting and swordsmanship. The [Broken Body: Insanity] gives me some really great techniques that can be used in a fight, the only attacks I know are limited.

I've been banking off my superior stats against weaker foes and abusing my health to fight stronger ones. I need to find a middle ground to work on my techniques. I need someone way mightier than me, way more skilled than me, but won't kill me in a fight to teach me how to fight.

I guess I'll go to school...

~

It's such a shame that my not master, Master Wang, is such a bad teacher that I need to go to the institute to learn how to fight. I could ask him, but I feel like the only fighting he will show me will leave me battered and cursing him more.

Learning to fight in tandem WITH my tamed beasts sounds like a dream. I recall the fight against the tree, and although it seemed like it was controlled chaos, it was just everyday chaos. However, I need to be able to pull my weight instead of just being a damage sponge.

The first person I head to is instructor Wurm. I see the orcish tamer hand-feeding a boar that seems to extrude a red aura. He noticed my approach, likely noticed my beasts before me.

Duchess and Khan stand out. Khan's bodies have returned in numbers, leaving fifty three-foot-long mini sharks floating around.

"Student Ellis. I see that you have taken great care of that [Feathered Boa]. Can I ask a question about her new species?"

"Yes, instructor Wurm. She is now an [Amphipter]. I apologize if I won't get any more specific."

"Wonderful. Truly a magnificent beast."

[Thisss one remembers this orc and the service he provided.]

"What about the sharks? It seems unlikely you tamed fifty [Flying Sharks]."

"That's something else I wish not to disclose right now. Maybe I can tell you about Khan's and Duchess' evolutions later.

"Pity. Why are you here, Ellis."

"Instructor Wurmheldguruff, can you watch over my tamed beasts while I am on campus? It's inconvenient in their current size."

"Do you not have the skill [Travel Size]?"

"No, can you tell me what that is?"

"Sigh, it's a pretty common skill among tamers. It allows your tamed beasts to take a smaller form for convenience."

Shit, maybe since I am no longer a "tamer" but a "master," I didn't get that skill.

"I didn't seem to be lucky enough. Are there any alternatives that I can use instead?"

"If you have millions of dollars, you can buy the lowest quality [Beast Bag]."

"..."

"Or if you can get your hands on a [Scribe] and a high-level tamer, you can have the tamer impart the skill to you. It's rare and costly but can be done. It's usually done between master and disciple."

"Is that where scrolls come from?"

"Mostly."

"Can I leave my beasts here or not?"

"You can."

~

Wurm wouldn't let Rob stay with him since he kept stealing the bones from the animals' food. Also, he creeps out some of them. Is the [Cuteness] skill too low of a rank to offset Rob's new form? It's a pity.

I left Rob with Anebel since she was conveniently on campus. Apparently, the institute gave her an entire lab so she could focus on her magic. She is starting her spartan training soon and needed a helper to finish up some last-minute magical experiments. I volunteered Rob since he isn't allowed where I am going next.

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For the first time, I enter the school's training facility. Surprisingly, they don't cordon off students by year but rather have anything open to anyone.

Classes haven't restarted yet, but students are not slacking during their downtime.

Treadmills fast enough to race cars on, weights that look comically outlandish, and students are sparing against one another with real weapons. This place seems way more active than the other gym I went to.

I scan my grade D badge and head inside the locker room. I should be advancing in grade once the exam results are officially released. I remove my uniform and reveal the [Broken Body Gui] I always wear underneath it. I painted over the embarrassing logo on the back, and you can't tell the difference. I can remove the paint if Master Wang finds out.

The exercise machines are used to push the limit of our bodies and give a reliable measurement of growth. I don't see the reason for using them right now. I need to work on technique, not raw power.

I remember the bare basic training my grandfather gave to my eight-year-old self and started hitting a bag. He was a boxer before the Collision, and I wished he could stand around to teach me more.

*Pow Boom Smack*

Something feels off. I straighten my wrists more and put more of my weight behind the punches.

*POW BOOM SMACK*

That's better. I just now realized something about my resistance. Since my body is more durable, I can put more strength behind every blow without worrying about destroying my hands.

The best way to learn to fight is to fight. I try my best to imitate Jerry's demeanor, someone who is fresh-faced and eager. I approached some upperclassmen who were about to head into a sparring zone.

"Hello seniors, I am new to this training facility. Can you show me the ropes?"

The student in front of me is definitely older than me by a few years. He wears full plate mail minus the helmet. A broadsword hands from his hip opposite of a spare knife. His face is clean-shaven but scarred. Either he kept them on purpose, or they are wounds he didn't get a healer to fix.

"Are you sure, dude? I won't pull my punches. Plus, you seem to be a martial artist, not a sword fighter. You should ask someone more similar to your class to help you out."

"I'll be fine, trust me. I also use a sword, but I have been neglecting it. I was hoping to get some pointers."

I could go ask a teacher or the dean to get a personal trainer, but the concept of someone being paid or forced to teach me doesn't fit right with me. I don't know. If they are genuinely that good, how could they be forced into a position where they have to teach me? I'm not dissing the institute's faculty because teaching a whole generation is different from teaching one person.

Having only one person in charge of my growth would be detrimental. Their choices will subconsciously lead me down the same back they took, and I don't want to be a personal trainer in the future.

"Sure, dude. Where is your sword then? The school only provides practice ones, and those sticks are flimsy as fuck."

I conjure my blade. Blood shoots out of my hand and forms into the barbed sword I tinkered with last time.

"Holy shit, dude, that's metal as fuck. Alright, hop into the ring, and I'll give you some pointers."

~

I learned that this guy's name is Jake, and he's a pretty chill guy. A famous guild scouted him from their branch office, and he has a cemented spot on one of their raiding teams once he graduates this year.

He taught me the basics.

"Treat a fight like a dance, not a game. Keep moving and keep the enemy in your tempo. Half the battle is in your head. A dumb swordsman is a dead swordsman.

Keep moving your feet. Standing still is only great if you are pretending to be a punching bag. Keep your elbows tucked in more."

I start getting the hang of it. I haven't transitioned into a master, but since my stats make me twenty times as strong as a non-superhuman, the basics aren't hard to pick up.

"Stop stabbing so much. Our types of swords are better to slash with. If a spear comes at you, just slash off the point. All they have is a stick now."

It's fun fighting without worrying about my life or killing something. The blood rush I feel is only amplified by my second heart. Jake is obviously is a higher level than me and is limiting himself to show me some tricks, but I think I should show some of my own.

When he blocks one of my strikes, I hook his blade to my sword and kick him in his gut.

*GONG*

He slides a few inches as his armor takes the blow. He smirks.

"So you want to take it up a notch, alrighty then."

He starts a ferocious storm of attacks, slashing heavily in quick succession. It's slow enough to block, but the heavy slams weaken my grip.

My metal arm can't keep up in strength with my real one. I start thinking on my feet.

I don't want to use any skills since he doesn't seem to be using any either. The barbs on my blade are sporadically placed, almost like a bunch of nails in a baseball bat. I force his blade to slide against mine. So it would get caught in the metal once again. I slam my shoulder into him, placing my foot in between his. With shoulder-check, I try to disarm him from his sword, but that plan fails.

I lose the fight soon after that, but that's to be expected. It's not like we were fighting to the death. If I was fighting for my life, I would have purposely taken a blow to reset the tempo. In a spar, that maneuver is seen as a loss.