Dellen wasn’t sure what had happened. One second, he and Miranda stood opposite each other; the next, he was on the floor, face pressed into a practice mat, with his cheek throbbing.
“Pay attention.” Miranda chided her voice firm but not unkind. “Your focus wavered for a moment, and that’s all it takes for your opponent to seize the advantage. In the ring, it could be the difference between victory and defeat, or with what you want to do, life, death, and maiming.”
Dellen got up and nodded at her.
“First, we need to improve your footwork. People underestimate how important that is. The easiest hit to recover from is the one that never landed. Likewise, you will never win if you can’t get to your opponent.” Miranda went over the fundamentals with him, emphasising the importance of balance and agility.
Then she drove the point home, “Come at me.” She said.
Dellen’s face hit the ground again, and again, and again. Each time Miranda wove around him and swept his feet out from beneath him.
“Think you’re ready to learn?”
“I was ready before, but yes.” Dellen puffed.
“Your footwork is the foundation upon which all of your techniques will be built,” she said. “It allows you to maintain balance, move efficiently, and generate power in your strikes. We’ll focus on Aether later; it’s useful, critical even, but not as much as good footwork.” She shook her head. “It is appalling how many would-be great fighters neglect this.”
She demonstrated the proper stance, with feet shoulder-width apart and knees slightly bent, emphasising the importance of keeping the weight on the balls of the feet for optimal agility. Dellen mimicked her posture, feeling the slight strain in his legs as he adjusted the position.
Next, Miranda walked him through footwork drills, each designed to improve a specific aspect of his movement. They began with the basic forward and backward shuffle, focusing on maintaining a constant distance between his feet and staying light on his toes. At first, Dellen found even this challenging, but he began to get the hang of it.
They moved on to pivoting, a technique that allowed him to change his angle of attack without losing balance.
Miranda instructed him to plant one foot and use it as a pivot point while the other swung around in a semicircle. Dellen practiced this, feeling his muscles engaged as he executed each pivot point.
Once he had a basic grasp of pivoting, they worked on sidestepping. Miranda explained that this technique was essential for evading attacks and creating openings in his opponent’s defence.
Dellen thought back to his fight with the Mauler. The Mauler had rushed past him without grace or subtlety, but Dellen hadn’t been able to capitalize on the predictable movements.
He practiced moving laterally, focusing on maintaining his balance and keeping his guard up as he moved.
Through all of the footwork drills, Miranda encouraged Dellen to channel his Aether, and integrate it into his movements.
“If you can find a balance so that you can feel and enhance your Aether, you can give yourself an advantage at key moments in a fight. Of course, it needs to come as naturally as breathing. If you’re focusing on your Aether, you’re not focusing on the fight; if you’re not focusing on the fight, you’re losing.”
Midway through his second day of training, Miranda decided that his footwork had improved enough that she could introduce him to the fundamentals of striking. She brought out a pair of well-worn boxing gloves and handed them to Dellen. He strapped them on, feeling the weight and snug fit as they encased his hands.
She demonstrated the proper technique for throwing a jab, explaining that it was the most basic, yet essential, punch in a boxer’s arsenal. “The jab is your primary weapon,” she said. “It’s used to create distance, set up combinations, and keep your opponent off balance.”
Dellen practiced his jab, focusing on maintaining proper form and generating power from his legs and hips.
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It was more about speed and accuracy and less about brute force. He threw jab after jab. Miranda provided pointers on improving his technique, occasionally using her glove to tap him when he dropped his guard or failed to fully extend an arm.
After the jab, Miranda moved on to teaching Dellen the proper technique for throwing a cross. “This is your power punch,” she explained, demonstrating the motion. “You’ll be using your dominant hand, so it has the potential to do more damage.”
Miranda showed him how to pivot on his back foot, turning his hips and shoulder into the punch to generate force. “Remember to keep your guard up, and don’t overextend yourself,” she warned. “A sloppy cross leaves you wide open for a counter.”
Dellen practiced the cross over and over, feeling the muscles in his arms and core working together as he honed his technique. He gradually added more speed and power to his punches, focusing on maintaining balance and control throughout the movement.
Once Dellen grasped the cross, Miranda introduced him to the hook. “This is a short-range punch,” she said, demonstrating the technique. “You’ll be swinging your arm around, aiming for the side of your opponent’s head or body.”
“Your hips, shoulders, even your legs, everything, needs to work together for this punch to be effective.”
He found it more challenging than the jab or the cross, but he felt an improvement in his technique. He knew that even with this basic foundation, he’d be able to last longer than he had against The Mauler.
Next, Miranda moved on to the uppercut. “This can be a devastating blow if you can land it cleanly,” she said, demonstrating with a fist glancing off his chin, gliding up over his cheek, “But it’s risky. You’re leaving your guard open for a brief moment.”
Dellen practiced the uppercut, focusing on generating power from his legs and hips while keeping his other hand up to protect his face.
On top of practicing individual punches, Miranda had him combine them into fluid combinations. She emphasized the importance of keeping his movements smooth and controlled.
“Think of it like a dance,” she suggested. “Each punch flows into the next; you’re always on the move, looking for openings and staying one step ahead of your opponent.”
Dellen looked up at her from the floor with his chin aching, lungs heaving, and heart pounding.
“You know, I kind of like seeing you exhausted like this,” Gilgamesh said. “It’s satisfying to just float here and watch you struggle.”
Dellen grinned through the discomfort. He got up, and Miranda gave him a quizzical look.
“That was a quick recovery, she said.”
“Like a dance, you said, right? Can’t just leave your partner waiting.”
Miranda leaned against a wall. “Take a break, drink some water; overtraining isn’t going to help you win.”
Dellen sipped at the cool water with closed eyes.
“I remember this one match,” she said, “I was up against a woman; she was built like a bull, a real powerhouse. She had these lighting-fast punches that seemed to come out of nowhere. I knew I couldn’t go toe-to-toe with her in terms of raw strength, so I had to rely almost entirely on footwork.”
Dellen listened, entranced.
“I spent the first couple of rounds dodging her punches and looking for openings. It wasn’t easy, but I landed a clean hit on her jaw. That one punch shifted the momentum of the entire fight, and when the bell came, I was the one still standing.”
Miranda paused for a moment, taking a swig of water before continuing. “The point is, boxing isn’t just about brute force. It’s about adapting to your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, finding the right strategy to come out on top. That’s what makes it fascinating, makes it fun.”
She sighed. “You’d think that after spending rounds trying to beat each other senseless, fighters would all hate each other, and sometimes that’s true,” she said with a chuckle, “But often it’s the opposite. There’s a mutual respect that forms. Some of my friends I met on the opposite side of the ring.”
She laughed again and looked at him. “Don’t get ideas about yourself, though, you’re just fresh meat. Speaking of which, that’s enough of a break.”
Dellen put up a hand to block his face.
“Good instinct; we’re going to work on your defense now.”
She taught him how to slip and bob, evading punches by moving his head and upper body. “The key is to stay relaxed and fluid,” she explained. “You don’t want to be tense, or you’ll be slower to react.”
Dellen practiced slipping left and right, ducking under imagined punches, and popping back up with counters of his own. The first hurdle was getting over feeling silly, ducking, and weaving on his own. Eventually, he found a rhythm that felt almost like practice.
“Remember,” Miranda said, “It’s not just about hitting your opponent; it’s also about avoiding their hits.”
Dellen spent hours through the evening and into the next day drilling defensive techniques, trying to integrate them into his footwork and combinations. Sometimes, he felt like his Electrical Aether helped, but just as often, he felt his control slip and cause him to stumble, hesitate, shock, or burn himself.
Panting on the floor, Dellen looked up at Miranda. “Do you think I might be ready for some amateur matches?”
“Yes, you’ve come a long way in a short while.” She stopped and considered, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone learn faster, but there’s nothing like the ring to light a fire beneath you; we should get you to a fight.”
“How are we going to do that?” He licked his lips. “Please tell me we’re not just going to ask Big Rollo to give me a shot.”
“Oh no,” Miranda said, mild alarm written on her face. “That sounds like an excellent way to die. Knowing Rollo, he’d throw you in as fresh meat with an almost irresistible payout if you won, then he’d put you up against someone like Blood Knuckle, The Iron Mauler, or Ripper.” She shook her head. “Fighters who start against them don’t often last. It’s like throwing meat into a grinder. No, no. I’m going to take you to see Marcus.”