Alaster’s back slammed into the tree, shaking free snow that fell on him as he coughed up blood. Wiping his mouth, he reached for his sword once more. The young man stood up on shaky legs but held his sword ready.
Richter, the Manaless, stood before him. The man, while his face was covered by his helmet, exuded a sense of boredom. He hadn't even bothered picking up his sword. He had instead been beating Alaster shades of black and yellow with just his fists. And more often than not, the man just slapped him.
This was the first time he had ever taken so much damage, even when he factored in loss of health from his own Abilities. Yet, whenever Alaster had lost too much health, the man would stop and just sit back down on his rock. Allowing the boy to recover, only to continue the beating once more.
Alaster had stored all his Undead in his [Soul Domain] and Summoner’s Ring. He had thought that the man told him so because they would hinder his training. But now, Alaster knew that they would have just gotten in the way. They were too slow, too weak, and too fragile. A single, half-hearted, slap from Richter would have shattered them. Of course, Alaster was certain that the man wasn’t even using a fraction of his actual strength against him.
“I thought…you were supposed to…train me.” Alaster panted, wincing from his bruised ribs.
“I am.”
“You are just beating me.”
“This? This isn’t a beat down. This is the building of the foundation of the training.”
“I already know the basics of combat.”
Richter chuckled, a sound that was innocent, but Alaster had come to fear and despise in just the short few hours since he had met him.
“Kid, you know nothing. The only thing you know is how to swing around a bar of metal. Good enough for others who know just as much, but against someone who knows even a modicum of skill, it's like fighting against a retarded monkey.”
“What is this beating supposed to teach anyway?”
“Nothing, but it will achieve something. Eventually. I think. Anyway, I’ll know it when I see it, so just try not to die.”
Once more, Richter came at the young man in a blink of an eye, while still making it seem like it wasn’t even a light jog for him. He beat Alaster until the sun came up, and continued to break the boy until the sun began to set. Each time, stopping until he healed naturally. But while the young man’s Health Regen was enough to prevent death, it took much longer to recover from actual injury. Alaster quickly became one big, stumbling, bruise. He didn’t even know bruises could be that color.
Alaster attempted to stab at the charging Richter, but the man casually moved the blade away, stepped past, and slapped the boy. Alaster flew to the side, colliding with a snow drift. At this point, Alaster’s vision was dim, his ears rang, he tasted blood and bone. But despite all that, his mind still managed to focus on the notification.
[Pain Tolerance Obtained]
[Blunt Resistance Obtained]
[Pain Tolerance
Level 1: 0%
Better able to tolerate pain.]
[Blunt Resistance
Level 1: 0%
Better able to resistance Blunt Damage]
“Its about time.”
“How did you know?” Alaster asked.
It was supposed to be impossible to see a person’s status without some kind of tool or advanced Ability. But Richter ignored the question.
“Those two Resistances form the backbone of combat. It is foolish to think that you can go through battle without taking blows. Even masters of their weapons will still receive damage. The difference between those who treat battle as an art, and those who treat it as desperate clinging to life, is how well they can withstand those blows. Because that is what a battle is. It doesn’t matter how many people are fighting, or for what cause. In the end, it will always just be a struggle not to die. It is dirty. It is bloody. And it is vicious. The man who comes out of battle clean, is a man who didn’t fight.”
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“But I’ve heard that once you become proficient enough, combat becomes similar to an art.” Alaster sat down heavily, using this time to rest.
“Those who say that are those who come out clean. They have no right to be there.”
“A right to be in a battle?”
“Yes. Every man and woman on a battlefield has earned their right to be there, simply from their struggle. Their desperate cling to life. To enter that field and treat it as some sort of art piece, it dishonors their struggle.”
“But what if that person is just that skilled?”
“Remember my words, boy. No battle is clean. I have single-handedly slaughtered armies and ripped apart castles, yet every battle was filthy. A fight to the death isn’t pretty. To go through a battle clean, means you are spending more effort on remaining clean than you are fighting. In doing so, you are making light of their struggle for life. If you are in a fight, you put your all into it. Anything less, and you bring dishonor to yourself and what you stand for.”
“Is that why you hate magic?”
Muffled by the helmet, Alaster still heard the growl, “Yes. Magic is unnatural. Those cowards throw around their spells, killing dozens, even hundreds at a time, and they never once step foot on the actual battlefield. I understand using what you have. I understand the use of attacking your opponent at range. But Mages scoff at the efforts of Warriors while they hide away in their libraries. When they finally come out, they are arrogant, fire off a couple spells, and return to their clean rooms to recharge their mana. If even one person gets in range, they are powerless to protect themselves.”
Richter took a deep breath before continuing, “Don’t misunderstand. Knowing is half the battle. The Mages excel at knowing. But that is still only half the battle. The other half is extreme violence, and in that, they are pitiful, but have the gall to be arrogant and claim victory.”
Richter sat down on his rock, “I detest Magic, but I do see its usefulness. Hell, the only reason I didn’t kill you, a fledgling mage capable of growing into a powerful one, is because your cause is just. That and I would still owe that favor to the geezer.”
“What do you know about my cause?” Alaster accused.
“More than you. You want revenge against the ones who killed your parents. That is something I personally understand. Except it was easier in my case.”
“How so?” Alaster wondered how this man knew about his parents.
“Because I didn’t have a little sister, they took hostage. All I had to do was grow strong enough to butcher them. You have to grow strong enough to do the same, but smart enough to plan it. You can’t just barge in and begin killing, otherwise you risk them killing your sister. Knowledge is half the battle, the other half is extreme violence. You are quickly growing strong enough to accomplish the second half, though you are, quite frankly, still very far from enough. But you know nothing about your target.”
“I need strength to learn about them.” Alaster countered.
“Yes. Yes you do. But the fact remains that the person who ordered their deaths and kidnapping could be standing right in front of you, and you wouldn’t have the slightest idea. The old man I am doing this for seems to have an interest in you. But don’t misunderstand. He won’t lift a finger to directly assist you. He doesn’t care about your family. He only finds you curious. If you survive my training, you will then be taught by another, probably one focusing on Magic.” The armored man scoffed, “Probably just read some books in some library.”
He stood up, “But that doesn’t affect this. Now that you have those two Resistances, it is time to level them. As they are now, they mean nothing.”
Alaster stumbled to his feet, “Wait, can't we just rest for a moment, eat something?”
“In battle, you could be fighting for days on end. Think of this as training for that.” Richter was done talking. He charged forward once more.
The cries of pain, and the rare metal against metal, filled the forest. The moon took the sun’s place long before the boy passed out. Falling face first in the snow, Alaster’s body had finally taken more than it could handle, even with the frequent breaks to heal. Richter sighed in annoyance, but kicked over the boy so he wouldn’t drown in the snow. He then returned to his rock, sitting down once more.
‘The boy has talent, but he is far from realizing it, let alone bring it forth.’
As the hours dragged on, Alaster began to block more and more of his blows. He was only using a mere percent of his power against the boy, but it was still commendable. Even skilled knights would struggle to block a blow from him, even in his controlled weakened state.
“What do you think, Evros?” Richter asked the empty air.
A moment later, the old man appeared, his hands behind his back, “It is impressive, his rate of improvement. Even as beaten and exhausted as he is.”
“I don’t give a shit what you think about that. I mean, what do you think about him in the grand scope of things?”
“Hard to tell. Too many things are changing radically and quickly. The boy included.”
“This is what I hate about you people. Always thinking you can control everything.”
“We have to.”
“You can’t, and every time you try, it just makes things worse. Have you ever thought that the reason the world is breaking apart is that you people won’t let things run their course?”
“You would be dead if we didn’t interfere back then.” Evros stated, not looking away from the unconscious boy.
The rock below Richter shattered as he slowly stood up, “Do not ever bring that up. I should have died then, not her. In my eyes, you freaks are just as to blame for her death as the ones who held the blade.”
“You needed to live.”
“And who decides that? You, the others? Admit it, you have no idea what you are doing. You are just throwing out ideas, hoping one of them works.”
“We are doing what we can.”
“And each step you make, ‘doing what you can’, just makes it worse. Tell me, how many innocents have you slaughtered like cattle to achieve your ‘Great Plan’ only for it to slip further and further away? When did you lose count? Somewhere in the millions? You of all people have no right to claim righteousness.”
Evros continued to watch the boy, not once looking away, but his eye twitched at the knight’s words.
“Richter, I do what I can, just like you or anyone else.”
“No, you do what you want. I will train the boy. But after that, we are done. If I see one of you again, I will not hesitate to rip them apart. Leave.”
Evros glanced at the Knight for a moment, “Things aren’t as simple as you believe.” and then he disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.
Alone once more, the Knight looked up at the starry sky, “Nor are they as complicated as you believe.”