Compared to the others in his company, Giulio was undoubtedly the person whose Mana was swirling most intensely, much like a nearly solid body, such as water when in high-speed motion. The Aura covering him from head to toe did not seem to belong to someone with only a few Meridians.
Even the rest of the recruits, although in pain and not exactly in shape, noticed it quickly. What kind of trick could this be? Jessica thought, for example, having never seen anything like it even from instructors like Gianpiero or, almost obviously, Roberto. However, she wasn't the only one with thoughts like that. Nine out of ten people there had never seen anything like it.
"Do you want to stand still there for much longer?" Carlo remained indifferent, barely reacting with a smirk. Despite the fact that, deep down, he had appreciated the efforts of those four desperate people. For better or for worse, they had improved their skills with only a good dose of hard work and perseverance, as well as some advice given with considerable laziness.
On the other side of the barricade, Giorgio couldn't find the right moment to launch the charge. He knew perfectly well that there was no hope of hurting Carlo even with a joint attack from his unit, but at the same time, the desire to show off his own improvements was giving him the courage to utter words he knew he would soon regret.
"Forward! Forward!" he shouted a few seconds later, after managing to silence his self-preservation instinct. The same, more or less, was done by his companions, incited by this or that low desire. Luigi, for example, had sworn to himself, even making a bet on the matter with Giulio, that he would abstain from further bets and games until his Cultivation had reached at least Two Meridians. For this reason, the expectation of ending up on his back while spitting blood was no longer one of the worst.
In any case, leaving aside unnecessary details, the group finally began to rush towards Carlo. Giulio, confident in having the highest Cultivation in the Platoon, had the task of being the spearhead of the formation, always in front of his companions. The others moved either to the right or to the left, trying to surround the Alcoholist as others had already done. Carlo let them do it, remaining still and waiting as Giulio's Aura accelerated more and more, increasingly ready for a frontal attack.
It was a fascinating sight for the spectators, especially for Gianpiero, still equipped with his trusty pen and paper ready to write down every detail that caught his eye or ear. The entire body of Giulio absorbed that partly chaotic but terribly dense energy by Recruits' standards. His Two Meridians immediately showed what they were made of, releasing most of their power on the first attack, causing significant pressure even several meters away.
The boy's sword then came down roughly, almost unbalanced, from top to bottom, aiming at Carlo's right shoulder. However, the alcohol in his veins moved only slightly, avoiding the blade's edge by only a few millimeters. To an untrained eye, it was almost as if the entire sword had passed through him without causing any damage. Then, with the same precision and speed, he hit Giulio in the abdomen with a kick, forcing him into an involuntary retreat.
"This is a good opportunity to show you the difference between Mana used recklessly and one used with a bit more thought," he then said, turning to the recruits while dodging Luigi and Martina's attacks with steps that almost looked like a country dance. Immediately after, he continued as if nothing had happened: "I used the same amount of force to hit you, but you see that dear Giulio is still standing? He's holding himself upright with the help of the sword like an old man with a cane, but at least he's on his feet."
After the second question was over, it was Giorgio's turn to attack. Equipped with a medium-length sword and a shield just wide enough for his height, the big guy tried to push Carlo to the side, putting all the force of his charge, his entire body weight, and a large part of his Mana into a charge with the shield instead of a sword strike. Carlo had to turn his head slightly, shifting his gaze to the blind spot from which the attack was coming.
Given his attacker's size, Carlo gave up on the idea of dodging and avoiding him, not wanting to make too much effort just for a demonstration. So, planting his left foot on the ground, he raised his right foot and then struck the sole of his foot against the incoming shield. Giorgio's momentum came to a sudden stop, causing him considerable shoulder pain. Carlo remained still; only his left foot had moved slightly, digging a furrow in the ground due to the recoil.
"In this case too," he said without seeking a more comfortable position to relax in. "If any of you had tried an approach like this... Well, most likely many of your bones would have been broken due to the recoil." He paused just for a moment, so he could put more weight on Giorgio's shield, pushing his leg down with increasing insistence. "Look at this big guy instead. When we collided, his Aura was solid and dense enough to absorb most of the damage. He couldn't move me; that's fine. But at least he can still use his shoulder. Isn't that right, darling?"
Concluding his speech just as poor Giorgio could no longer bear the effort, as his Mana reserves had completely depleted. Before collapsing to the ground exhausted, however, he could clearly see his shield, no longer reinforced by his Mana, breaking in multiple points as if made of porcelain. That, however, was not exactly the end of his bad experiences, because when Carlo's foot hit the ground, still carrying much of the momentum that had already shattered the weapon, the noise that followed made his blood freeze in his veins.
As it happened to the rest of the people present, actually, despite the greater distance that separated them. Carlo's body, to put it grandly, couldn't weigh more than seventy kilograms; maybe seventy-five with his water-soaked clothes, and yet the weight he impressed in his leg was no less than that of a large hard stone. And this was not even an exaggeration to say, since the blow created a trench in the ground so large that it gave the impression that a several-ton rock had just been removed from there.
"Having said that, however," the Alcoholic resumed speaking, as calm as an old tavern-goer at his first glass. "Remember, once Mana is depleted, there is not much left to do. Your weapons will become as fragile as glass against a Cultivator who still has not finished their Mana reserves. However, knowing how to calibrate the use of your own Aura is something you absolutely must learn. Actually, you probably should have learned it right from the start." Meanwhile, he nodded his head towards Martina and Luigi, the last ones left still healthy. Giulio, in fact, despite giving his all to throw himself back into the fray, could not get his legs back under his control, causing him to fall inexorably to the ground inch by inch.
“So? Come on, it's your turn too.” Carlo urged the remaining two contenders, wanting to finish the day's lesson so he could lie down on the ground and sip something good.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Martina and Luigi weren't very convinced, but by that point, they didn't have much choice. The boy, first of all, thought back to the bet with Giulio and regained his courage. Foolish and without much hope in his heart, he lunged forward without a plan just to finish the thing quickly.
As if it made a difference, he ended up thinking once he arrived in front of Carlo. The Aura that covered him was smaller in volume even when compared to Giorgio, however, for a reason totally unrelated to training or personal talent, the Mana that covered his sword vibrated with such ferocity as to be frightening.
Carlo paid little attention to the matter, finding it amusing that a boy had, absolutely unintentionally, created what was called in jargon a Coercion, that is, an additional condition that the Cultivator imposed on himself to obtain something in return. Of course, the simple promise not to bet for a short period of time could not generate much power, but it already allowed the boy to generate a notable cloud of dust when Carlo avoided his attack and his sword touched the ground.
Explaining something like that to these kids might not be a good idea at the moment... Better to pretend nothing happened. Maybe in the future it could be worth it, but not now, they already have enough confusion in their heads. Carlo reflected calmly, slightly undecided on what to do. Self-imposed conditions, or Constrictions, could greatly help a Cultivator but they brought with them several problems and risks not to be underestimated. So, having chosen not to say anything, he sent poor Luigi flying with another kick to the stomach, and waited for Martina's arrival.
It must be said that the girl didn't keep him waiting long. On the contrary, from the moment Luigi flew away in despair, Martina still had a weapon she had great confidence in. However, before playing her winning card, she stopped for a moment to say, "I hope it goes well," addressing Carlo who, in response, looked at her without much conviction. For his taste at least, the girl seemed to be too cheerful.
After the show was over, the way Mana surrounded Martina changed. The pattern that the mist, halfway between a gas and a solid, formed during her movements quickly changed, sliding over her skin as if it were a cloth. The kids around didn't understand much about the matter, nor did Roberto understand much about it. Only Gianpiero had read something about that kind of Mana transformation, which was why he didn't take his eyes off the scene even to continue writing.
"According to the Manual of the Whore and the Mouse, concentrating one's Mana as close as possible to the surface of the skin improves its resistance and elasticity. If instead, one focuses the Aura not only on the skin but also inside the body following a precise pattern, it becomes possible to strengthen muscles, tendons, and bones in the same way... Am I really seeing a first-year girl doing something like that?" He mumbled all at once, realizing only after he finished talking to himself. Not that he cared at the moment about being labeled as crazy, if being able to observe such an event was the price to pay.
Returning to the important part, and without dwelling on the half-laugh that Carlo ended up doing when he heard the mention of the Whore and the Mouse, Martina had finished her preparations. It must have taken her little more than thirty or forty seconds to manipulate her Mana so that it followed the predetermined path. A crazy timing that would have surely killed her in a real battle, but which, since Carlo had no intention of moving, was not a big problem on this particular occasion.
Shortly after, as if she had turned into an arrow, the girl's steps became so fast that they could hardly be seen by a Cultivator of One or Two Meridians. A trajectory so straight is not ideal, but it's already an improvement compared to the first time I taught her these nonsense, Carlo silently commented, surprised at the results of just a few days of work.
The real show, however, was yet to come. While Martina was still running, she planted one foot on the ground once she reached the desired distance, so that she could transfer maximum force into her strike. Actually, calling it a strike wouldn't do it justice. The entire arm that held the sword moved with such fluidity that it disappeared for a moment and generated a sound very similar to that of a whip crack.
The force that followed was no less impressive than an attack by Giulio, for example, despite the difference in cultivation. The attack itself was a matter of moments, but this did not change the fact that most of the spectators remained stunned long after its execution.
"Considering where you started, I must say you're doing well," Carlo said, with Martina's sword firmly fixed on the outside of his right bicep. The fabric of his tunic seemed to have been torn clean at that point, but he showed no signs of pain or discomfort. On the contrary, he continued to talk while the person who had launched the attack seemed on the verge of fainting at any moment.
"The shoulder has improved, but you should still continue with the exercises I gave you. However, for an injury like this, it doesn't make sense to take medicine if you're not careful not to exert yourself too much. If you were in better shape, there wouldn't have been any dead time between when you stopped and the beginning of the attack. But it went well, anyway," Carlo stopped talking for a moment, showing a fake smile as few can. Then, with the same expression on his face, he said, "Well, now fly free," before kicking her in the abdomen and, having finished the practical demonstration, taking his hands out of his pockets.
"What a hassle, what a hassle..." he complained while making foolish gestures with his hands, which I won't describe, without worrying too much about the rolls Martina was making on the ground or the fact that people were still having vomiting or pains that weren't anything to laugh about. Such a sight even moved poor Roberto's little heart, who wasn't looking for trouble at all and was already an instructor with his own troubles.
"But… are we sure it's okay like this? It's true that people come every year, but are we sure they won't die in front of our eyes?" he asked Gianpiero, even whispering in his ear so that no one could hear him. For once in his life, his concern for his students was genuine. However, this did not move his dear colleague, who was already too blinded by his own notes to worry about anything else.
That kind of genuine obsession, which was clearly visible in Gianpiero's spirited expression as he leaned over the heavily scribbled papers, was palpable. Oh God... Roberto stepped back instinctively, creating a one-step distance from his colleague, before turning to look at his students with a heavy heart.
However, as was now tradition, he soon discovered how small and insignificant his role in the matter was, as was his concern. In the short time that he had lost worrying and sweating, Carlo had already made his way around the Recruits, slapping one and tapping the other with his finger. At first glance, these actions seemed like simple, senseless cruelty, but they immediately improved the conditions of the boys.
Even those who were in worse condition and in pain all over their bodies regained healthy complexions with these not-so-light slaps. To the plump Instructor with a heart torn between money and compassion, this ability was closer to an inexplicable magic than a studied procedure derived from a thorough understanding of human and divine matters.
"Now that you're feeling better, let's start Cultivating! Oh, no! Stop right there. Gianpiero, Roberto, go get some wooden buckets. Bring me some cans and some less for you, as the boys will be vomiting soon. Come on, hurry up! I don't want to waste time!" Carlo exclaimed some time later, after sitting on the ground and finding, with the power of clairvoyance, I imagine, a bottle of beer ready to be consumed.