Chapter 11

The Art of Combat

The month of July bathed Hazelton in a golden glow, with sunlight streaming gently through the dense canopy of leaves, scattering dappled patterns of light and shadow onto the cobblestone streets below.

The bustling commercial district was already alive with activity. Shopkeepers, sleeves uolled up, were busy arranging their goods on display, while the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, filling the morning with a vibrant, welcoming energy.

“Ven! Are you there?”

Just a street away behind the tall buildings, Reese hopped off a carriage and approached the Golden Clover workshop. She knocked on the door, expecting Zi-Cheng to answer, but instead found Elena greeting her with a radiant smile like the workshop’s owner.

“Oh! Good morning Reese!”

“Elena? Why are you here so early?”

“Victor got me some time off from the Sanctuary so I could focus on helping with the potions,” Elena replied with a playful laugh, clearly enjoying herself far more than completing her usual temple chores.

Reese glanced at the crates of Egg Peaches stacked on the carriage and sighed. “And where’s Ven? Don’t tell me he’s expecting the two of us to do all the heavy lifting.”

“It’s fine, I’ll take care of it.” Elena chirped, already climbing onto the carriage with enthusiasm. “Ven’s training with Victor right now, so it’s better not to disturb them.”

Reese leaned against the carriage, arms crossed, watching as Elena started unloading crate after crate without hesitation. With a shake of her head and a half-smile, she muttered, “You know, if you keep this up, you’re going to spoil him rotten.”

In response to Reese’s criticism, Elena simply stuck out her tongue, making a playful face, her action saying she didn’t care in the slightest.

Reese let out a small sigh, rolling up her sleeves with exaggerated resignation. “Fine. Just don’t come crying to me later.”

Meanwhile, behind the workshop, Victor stood tall by the well, a longsword in hand.

“Not wanting to fight doesn’t mean you can’t fight,” Victor said, his voice steady and commanding. “When a fight comes knocking, you need the strength to protect yourself and those around you.”

Zi-Cheng wanted to nod, he had tasted defeat and humiliation, and every word rang true. Yet, for someone who had spent most of his life glued to a computer screen in a relatively safe city, the idea of combat training still felt out of reach.

Perhaps there was a moment before the invocation ritual when he’d let himself get carried away by the idea of becoming a hero, like all those isekai stories he devoured. But at the end of the day, he had learned dreaming and doing were two completely different things.

Like so many in his generation, he was raised to avoid confrontation, to deescalate, to get out. Standing at the tip of an opponent’s sword, looking into the eyes of someone with the intent to kill, it wasn’t just daunting, it was a reality far harsher than anything he had experienced behind a screen and a controller.

Yet, it wasn’t fear alone that was holding him back. There was a quiet determination in him to keep his head down, finish the task given by the voice on the phone, and find his way back to the life he once knew.

Zi-Cheng took a deep breath and followed Victor’s instructions. His movements were awkward but precise. His hands moved smoothly, his body adjusting with surprising ease, but it all felt holllow. Like a machine going through the motions, his body moved, but the spirit of a fighter was nowhere to be found.

Victor frowned.

In nearly ten years as a guest instructor at the Combat Academy, he’d never encountered a student so indifferent to his words. The young man before him wasn’t just hesitant, he was shackled by something deeper. Chains that bound him to a way of life built on avoiding risks.

“So, Ventus, what kind of weapon catches your eyes?” Victor asked, shifting gears in attempt to break through Zi-Cheng’s indifference.

Zi-Cheng blinked, momentarily caught off guard as the question hit a weak spot.

Sure, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about combat training, but talking about weapons? Now that was a different story! As an anime fan and gamer, his mind immediately buzzed with images of exotic armaments. Among them, the sleek, iconic katana stood out – cliché, sure, but impossible to resist.

On the other hand, Victor noticed the flicker of interest and decided to press further.

“I’ve heard fighters at the Iron City of Athirean use something like that.”

And Zi-Cheng took the bait.

“You serious? They actually have katanas there?!” Zi-Cheng’s eyes lit up at last.

Victor’s lips curved into a faint smile, “You’ve never trained a day in your life. Jumping straight to an exotic weapon like that, you’d just end up hurting yourself. Let’s stick to something more...practical for now.”

Setting his longsword aside, Victor grabbed a wooden spear from the rack and tossed it to Zi-Cheng, “A spear’s straightforward. No need for fancy moves, and perfect for keeping enemies at a distance, ideal for beginners.”

(A spear, huh….)

Zi-Cheng felt the weight of the weapon in his hands, solid and reliable. His mind wandered to hack-and-slash game Dynasty Warriors, imagining the simplicity of mowing down hordes of enemies without taking a hit. Yeah, this felt safer than a sword duel any day.

Noticing the shift in Zi-Cheng’s expression, Victor seized the moment and began demonstrating basic spear techniques. To his surprise, Zi-Cheng’s demeanor changed the moment he started practicing. His focus sharpened, his movements grew smoother, and within an hour, he had memorized every move and stance Victor had shown him.

“Remarkable.” Victor squinted, his tone ringed with suspicion. “You said you were sick growing up?”

Victor couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t add up. This wasn’t just raw talent, it was more like Zi-Cheng’s mind and body was a blank slate, soaking up everything he taught like a sponge.

But Zi-Cheng did not respond. His hands tightened on the spear as his own thoughts churned.

(What’s happening to me?)

In his old world, Zi-Cheng had been pushing thirty, and his body had felt every bit of it. Even when he first arrived in this world, he could barely keep up with Chris Coleman’s wagon, panting and wheezing after the shortest walks in the wilderness.

(And that time…. When I jumped onto a carriage to escape from Julia. There’s no way I should’ve been able to pull that off.)

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Yet he had.

His mind flashed back to the stat-reading lamp at the Sanctuary, the one that had displayed his stats as “Unreadable”. An eerie unease crept through him as he glanced down at his own arm.

His stamina had skyrocketed, his reflexes had sharpened far beyond what he thought possible.

(Seventeen days beyond the city walls, can that really change someone so drastically?)

The question gnawed at him, but there were no answers. Only the unsettling realization that his body wasn’t behaving the way it should.

From a distance, Victor studied him carefully, noting the flickers of doubt and unease in Zi-Cheng’s expression. The young man seemed just as puzzled as Victor was.

When Elena mentioned a young man with no combat abilities and unreadable stats from the invocation ritual, Victor’s curiosity was instantly piqued. Then, during dinner at the workshop, Zi-Cheng’s offhand remarks about economics and national policy only heightened Victor’s sense that there was more to Zi-Cheng than met the eye.

Now watching Zi-Cheng pace near the well, seemingly lost in thought, Victor decided it was best to stay quiet and observe. Whatever secrets Zi-Cheng carried, forcing answers out of him now would only push him further away.

“You know, I like the idea of finishing an opponent from a distance rather than up-close.” Zi-Cheng said as he picked up a short bow, casually nocking a practice arrow.

“Archery? Sure, I can teach you the basics.”

No, I mean… something with even more range than a bow.”

“What kind of weapon is that?”

“N..nevermind, it’s just a random idea,” Zi-Cheng chuckled lightly, his tone dismissive.

Victor caught a flicker in Zi-Cheng’s eyes—a quiet certainty, as if he’d seen something far beyond a bow’s range, something deadlier. Weapons or combat skills with that kind of reach were exceedingly rare, known only to high-ranked warriors. How could someone who claimed to have never stepped into an arena know anything about them?

“Hey, Venus, have you ever seen an arena match?”

“No, not really.”

“Is it because what you said about not liking ‘PvP’?”

Zi-Cheng chuckled faintly, his gaze shifting. He’d recently explained the concept of player versus player to his new mentor, and now, just like back in his old world, he was about to be asked why.

(Oh, that’s right.)

His smile faltered slightly as a memory surfaced. Ming-Wei had asked him the same thing once. That was where it all began — the small, innocuous point where everything eventually fell apart.

“You’re just shutting yourself off and wasting good opportunities!”

“Chasing every trend is just burning through what little we’ve got!”

It had been during their studio’s second year when the arguments started.

Ming-Wei had always been the type to chase trends, jumping on every bandwagon that’s hot at the time – esports, VR, crypto, NFT games, you name it, he’d chase it. His motto was always the same: strike while the iron is hot. If he could ride the hype before it died down, he’d get a slice of the investors’ pie.

But Zi-Cheng had a different philosophy. To him, games were about more than flashy trends and quick profits. They were about the player’s experience, features and content that required time, care, and creativity to build. He believed chasing gimmicks only dragged the team further from the heart of game development.

Their first year had been full of shared ambition, but by the second, cracks in their partnership widened into full-blown clashes.

Zi-Cheng had been certain, perhaps naively, that once their game launched successfully, Ming-Wei would come around. The positive feedback, the player engagement; surely, it would prove their vision was worth sticking to.

That day never came.

“You’re just trashing something you haven’t even tried, and that’s just plain stupidity!”

Those were Ming-Wei’s last words before slamming the door behind him. It was the last conversation they had as partners, before he returned as the man who tore everything apart.

Back in the present, Victor was telling him the same thing in a different context. That avoiding the arena was narrow-minded, that he was closing himself off to possibilities.

“No, that’s not narrow-minded, it’s called choice.” Zi-Cheng’s voice was cold, like a sudden chill cutting through the air. “Playing by someone else’s rules and risking your neck against a bunch of strangers? Don’t you think that’s just plain stupid?”

Stupid?!

Victor had been a priest at the Sanctuary for many years and had heard his fair share of harsh words. But this was the first time he’d heard someone blatantly call the arena system “stupid.”

To Zi-Cheng, game companies taking short cuts, designing shallow PvP games just to pit players against each other for profit was already questionable enough. But seeing an entire country apply that same concept to governance, encouraging its people to fight among themselves while the elites reaped the rewards, that’s simply disgusting. This People vs People (PvP) dynamic was longer just a game. It was a grotesque reality.

What frustrated him even more was how most people remained blissfully unaware, accepting it as the norm. Some even went out of their way to push the system forward, hoping to join the ranks of the privileged few who benefited from it.

(If this isn’t “stupidity,” then what is?)

“Even if you become a king on someone else’s chessboard, you’re still just a monkey dancing in their palm. There’s no honor in that.”

Zi-Cheng’s cold words cut through the air, and a bitter smile soon followed.

Even though he refused to be someone else’s puppet, he had lost everything anyway. In the end, wasn’t he just another failure?

A quiet, self-deprecating laugh escaped Zi-Cheng, its heaviness seeming out of place for someone so young. Victor silently observed him, his sharp gaze capturing every detail.

Most priests of the Sanctuary would never tolerate anyone openly mocking the Hero or the arena system. Remarks like that usually earned a stern lecture or a disapproving glare. But Victor paused for a moment, as if weighing the boldness of Zi-Cheng’s words. Then, to Zi-Cheng’s surprise, he burst into hearty laughter, slapping his thigh like he’d just heard the joke of the century.

“Hah! You’re absolutely right, it is stupid! Can’t believe you just summed up somethings I’ve been thinking about for years with a just a few words. Monkey dancing in palms huh….”

Zi-Cheng’s bitter chuckle clashed sharply with Victor’s booming laugh, the contrast so bizarre that Reese and Elena poked their heads out of the workshop, exchanging curious looks, clearly wondering what kind of conversation could lead to such an odd mix of laughter and cynicism.

“What’s going on Victor?” Elena asked, her wide eyes darting between the two.

Victor dusted off his clothes and turned to Zi-Cheng with a mischievous grin. “This guy’s got some sharp words, that’s what’s going on.”

He snapped his fingers as if an idea had just struck him. “You know what, Ventus? Sure, the matches might be stupid, but there’s no harm in seeing them for yourself. Let’s skip training today and head to the arena instead.”

“Wait, what?”

Before Zi-Cheng could even process what was happening, Victor was already dragging him along, waving for Reese and Elena to follow without so much as a second thought.

And just like that, Zi-Cheng found himself being hauled to the one place he had absolutely no interest in visiting: Hazelton’s Combat Arena.

image [https://i.imgur.com/RZHxvLA.jpeg]