Chapter 5: The Art of War (I)

The Way of the Sword?

The Code of Chivalry?

No. There are no such things as those. Those things are mere fantasies brought up time and time again by fools who romanticize life-or-death battles. By those who have never experienced war.

Magnus raised his fist, and sent it against the boy’s cheek with a solid thud.

Just because a person was on the ground, weaponless and unarmed, that did not mean they were harmless.

Tobias let out a hiss, before blocking the next strike with his palm. And when fist met palm, he gripped as hard as he could and struggled against it.

Because at the end of the day, a person should use whatever they’re given to survive. Their fists, their nails, their teeth – survival was not tied to some fancy weapon.

Old man and boy struggled on the ground, and Magnus felt himself getting thrown off to his left. He cursed his wooden left leg for its lack of resistance.

Knuckles were terrible weapons. It didn’t have the lethality of any steel weapon, ranging from the humble dagger, to the mightiest of halberds and axes. Nails were no better, and tended to break off unless used against eyes. Teeth only exposed one to needless danger.

Tobias raised his arm to block against the strike. Flesh crashed against flesh with a meaty thud, and the boy winced in pain.

But a person would be lying if they said getting punched in a vital area didn’t hurt. A person would be lying if they said their eyes getting gouged out did not hurt. A person would be lying if they said getting bitten did not hurt.

Magnus gripped Tobias’ hair, and with a small wind up, sent a fist hurtling towards his face.

Pain was weakness. But at the same time, pain could be a weapon. Faces ranged from ugly, to out-of-this-world beautiful. But what did all faces have in common?

Tobias’ arms blocked the blow meant for his face, but Magnus only drew his fist back and aimed for his stomach instead.

Faces were nothing but a weak point in combat. So terribly sensitive to pain, so terribly large of a target. Any inexperienced man would flinch when something headed towards their face, which only blinded them from any opportunities to retaliate or defend themselves.

Magnus’ fist smashed through Tobias’ rib cage with a solid thump. The boy spat out blood, and the pain only made his drop his guard.

The human body was designed to fight, even if they had no exceptional natural weapons. Two dexterous arms for both offensive and defensive purposes. Two flexible legs to allow for nigh unparalleled omni-directional horizontal mobility...

Magnus took advantage of the opening, and sent a fist towards the boy’s exposed face.

But none of it meant shit against other armored, armed combatants.

Fist met face with a sickening crack. Blood trailed down from Tobias’ nose. In blind rage, the boy only sent a wild haymaker towards the old man.

Magnus effortlessly parried away the reactive strike, and proceeded to grab Tobias’ face, and with a great huff, he shoved the boy backwards. The boy landed on his back, and the soft ground made sure that he wouldn’t crack his skull open.

The boy was exhausted, and he would no doubt gain more wounds and bruises once the battle was settled. Mentor and student said nothing, with the latter only focusing on breathing and huffing.

Yes, indeed. Tobias was only human, no more than a boy who was still growing up. As he is now, he stands no chance of surviving anything the world throws at him, much less becoming strong enough to impress Death itself.

But that is why Magnus made a promise to this boy’s mother, right? A promise to train... no, make this boy into someone... more. He will make this boy into someone who can defeat someone who was both armed and armored with nothing but his bare hands.

He will teach this boy what it meant to fight without holding anything back. To make him surpass his own human limitations...

“Come forth, Tobias. And learn the Art of War.”

***

Tobias gripped the sanded-off tree branch, and pulled himself upwards. One hundred and ninety five...

The Art of War... literally consisted of Magnus and Tobias fighting in pure hand-to-hand combat.

One hundred and ninety six...

Okay, he lied. It was Magnus outperforming, outclassing, and somehow outmaneuvering Tobias, even if the man only had one functioning leg left. Tobias doesn’t recall ever landing a direct hit on the old man, and his bruises are more than happy to remind him that he caught more than his fair share of them.

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One hundred and ninety seven...

But maybe if Magnus had over twenty different ways to literally kill him with only his bare hands, then Tobias definitely stood no chance whatsoever. On the bright side, he taught him how to throw some mean punches and how to deflect or parry them (because blocking hurts). On the not-so-bright side, he taught him how to kill people with his bare hands if he’s in a position to do so.

One hundred and ninety eight...

Alright, Tobias had to admit. Humans are definitely terrifying. Why do people know how to kill other people so damn efficiently? On hindsight, he answered his own question; The old man’s been through war, that’s why.

One hundred and ninety nine...

But then again, old man Magnus said that if he had to rely on hand-to-hand combat, then he’s practically good as dead on the battlefield anyways.

Two hundred. He let himself drop off from the tree branch without much fuss, and his legs slightly bent when he landed to absorb the light impact.

But the good thing about all of this was that he’s going to be taught how to fight with weapons. So that was a step in the correct direction on his current goal right now, which is being supported by everyone. The iron-forged alliance still stands strong if his mother still allows him to train, even if he comes home with different (although not life threatening) injuries everyday.

He let out a small chuckle as he sat on the ground to rest for a short while. He didn’t know what sort of speech Magnus did to prepare his mother for the truth he spoke of, but whatever it was, he was good at convincing her to let him go on his quest to retrieve Marcus.

Just sitting around wouldn’t do him any favors now, would it? So he stood up, and began to perform squats. After all, Magnus told him to never skip ‘leg day’ or whatever that meant. Was that supposed to be a joke based on the fact that he only had a single leg?

***

Tobias barely managed to back step the lightning fast jab that Magnus sent him. The cloth-wrapped fist retracted just as quick as it arrived, and was followed up by another punch.

He leaned backwards to avoid it, and sent a right jab of his own. It was parried aside, and in the next moment, he felt a wrapped fist crash against his own rib cage.

“Ghrk...!”

But he didn’t let the pain slow him down, or stop his thoughts. To stop one’s analytical prowess during battle is the same as embracing defeat, or death. Those were the words taught to him by Magnus.

What are his strengths...?

Tobias raised his arms in front of him, blocking and parrying as best as he could against the sequence of punches aimed towards his face.

Magnus outclasses him in every department.

Each blow was like a swallow’s flight. Each jab could suddenly turn into a hook – nothing was certain.

Speed.

Each blow felt like a hammer pounding against his arms, as muscles and bone ached from each impact.

Strength.

Each blow was calculated...! Whenever he blocked or parried a strike, the other arm would only aim for his new exposed spot, and it was a mad scramble to haphazardly defend himself from blow after blow.

Experience.

So then... what does he have? Against such a superior foe who outclasses him in every single department, what does he have in comparison? What are his weaknesses...?

Tobias finally hopped backwards. He realized that it was impossible to pierce through the man’s frontal defense. In comparison, Magnus only stood in place, his arms raised as he seemed to challenge him to step closer.

He wasn’t moving from his spot. How could Tobias not have realized it sooner?

Mobility.

The only decisive advantage that Tobias holds against the old man. The man only had one functioning leg – he was effectively grounded to one spot. If he tries to move to a new location or if he ever changes his footwork, then his stability would be compromised.

No plan survives first contact. There are no rehearsed sequence of moves to attain victory. So he didn’t bother to think of any fancy combo, or advanced situations which could happen.

He only rushed in, with newfound weakness in mind. All he understood was that he should capitalize on his own strengths, and abuse his opponent’s weakness, if nothing else.

That was the only way to secure victory.

His return into striking range was met with caution. Magnus didn’t instantly pummel him with a flurry of strikes, and only seemed content to stay on the defense for a while. But Tobias knows that the moment he goes offensive, he will lose.

So both of them waited. They watched each other for the most minute of details which could reveal their intentions. The slightest twitch – the subtle step forwards... anything could happen in the next moment –

...!

Tobias managed to duck below a jab aimed for his head. It was sheer instinct – he didn’t even see the strike happen! But he wasn’t one to look for a gift horse in the mouth. While the arm was still in the motion of being drawn back, Tobias took this opportunity to send a strong hook towards the old man’s exposed left torso.

Fist met rib cage. And for the first time, Tobias wasn’t the one who received it. Both combatants froze; Tobias couldn’t believe he landed a solid blow, and Magnus only stared down at him. He looked up, and barely noticed the subtle grin that Magnus had on his face.

And in the next moment, Tobias felt a hand plant against his forehead, and he felt himself getting pushed backwards with such force that he couldn’t keep his balance. As a result, he was lying down the ground again, and happened to look at the sky again.

The skies were blue, yet the leaves were orange. It was a curious sight, if nothing else, and perfectly matched the elation he felt. A wide grin cemented itself on his face, as he let out breaths of exhaustion. He finally managed to land a counter hit on Magnus...!

The noise of footsteps crunching against dirt made his head tilt towards the direction. Old man Magnus stared down at him with a neutral gaze, and then offered a hand. He took it, and felt himself getting pulled up to his feet again.

“You finally used that head of yours.” Magnus commented, and he idly patted Tobias’ back to get rid of the clinging dirt. “Did not expect you to casually dodge that jab though.”

“That was luck, admittedly.” Tobias replied, giving a small sigh to himself.

“Sometimes, luck is what gets you the victory.” He patted the boy’s back, and gave a nod. “Take it from me, kid. I would not be here if I did not get lucky at times.” And then, Magnus gave Tobias’ shoulder a firm grip. “That being said, I will train you to the point luck is irrelevant.”

“Aha, aha.” He gave a laugh – one that sounded too nervous. “That definitely sounds more like you, Sir Magnus.”

“Hahahaha! Indeed!” Another firm pat. “Now, what are we standing around for? Back to training.”

***

The trees around them were without any leaves. The air was cold, and one knew that winter was already coming in a few days’ time – maybe a week at most. And underneath the leafless forest, there stood an old man with one leg, and his one and only student.

“Wait... what do you mean unarmed combat drills are done?” Tobias’ eyes were widened with some surprise, as he expressed that question.

“I will be honest with you kid.” In turn, Magnus just sighed. “At this point, you can probably beat me five times out of ten. And besides, an old man like me cannot keep up with your fancy kicks and grapples.”

“I’m just more surprised you know how to pin and piledrive a person into the ground.” He replied, letting a small grin emerge from his face.

“Come on kid, you know the reason why I cannot do any of those fancy moves on you is because I only have one leg left.” Magnus let out a hoarse laugh, hesitantly shared by his pupil.

“I’d be lying if I said I still stand a chance of victory against you if you did have two legs.” The old man let out another laugh, but wasn’t joined by his pupil this time. When the old man stopped, Tobias only continued with what he was supposed to say. “Anyways... now what?”

“Catch.” Magnus suddenly swung his arm and threw something at Tobias, which the latter caught effortlessly. It was a sword carved from wood, and had its specifications versatile enough to be used as both a one handed, and a two handed sword if need be. “Now, I will teach you how to use a sword.”

And with that, Magnus stepped in to deliver a swift sword strike.