"Well, someone got here early." Magnus glanced over and saw Gerald approaching, his right step carrying a noticeable limp. The bandage wrapped around his foot peeked out from the end of his pants leg, but he didn't seem to be in any pain. Despite the limp, he was walking just as fast as ever.

"Yeah, just stretching and getting myself ready. I've been looking forward to this," Magnus said with a grin. Gerald tilted his head slightly, eyeing Magnus up and down as if trying to match the image in his mind to what stood before him now.

"Hey, kid, I don't know if I mentioned this, but you look a little different than before, don't you?"

Magnus feigned obliviousness.

"Really?" Of course, he knew. The pressure and refinement in the magma chamber had altered his appearance significantly—his body slimmer from compression, his skin carrying a sheen-like dulled armor catching the light. Even his hair, nails, and teeth looked more sculpted than grown, as though every part of him had been curated rather than developed naturally. By all accounts, his body had become something artificial, sustained by complete biological restructuring and the Command Console’s continuous loops.

Internally, he functioned more like a machine than anything else.

"Yeah, honestly, I thought you'd have bulked up after being gone so long. But somehow, you look even more like a girl than before." Gerald let out an unrestrained laugh.

Magnus’s expression soured.

"Yeah, thanks for that. Not like I’m self-conscious about it or anything," he muttered with a sigh. At this point, he figured his appearance was just another cost of progression.

"Ah, I'm just messing with you. Don't take it too hard," Gerald said as his laughter settled.

"You’d be surprised how many noble women like boys like you." Magnus stared at him in deadpan disbelief before shaking his head.

"Yeah, not exactly interested in being some rich lady’s boy toy. Anyway, let's just get this started."

"If you say so. So, what's the training exercise?" Gerald asked, rolling his neck and stretching his arm, clearly eager.

"Ah... kind of hard to explain. Maybe ‘experiment’ is a better word for it. For now, I just need you to judge something for me."

Gerald raised a brow but shrugged.

"Alright, I still don’t get it, but go ahead." With Gerald ready, Magnus stepped forward.

Since most soldiers used the passageways within the walls to get around, the courtyard was mostly empty, aside from the tent Mia used to coordinate everyone's movements. Still, Magnus and Gerald weren’t completely alone, of course—there were still the soldiers patrolling the wall walkways and those moving in and out of the storage room, organizing supplies for their departure in a few days.

Still, with the Nullfang dealt with, the urgency and anxiety had finally been given a chance to fade, leaving the entire outpost feeling almost tranquil. The soldiers on the walls or in the storage room couldn’t help but cast glances toward Magnus and Gerald, curiosity drawing their attention.

Magnus took another step, closing the distance to a meter, and then acted without warning. In an instant, the visualization was formed. His stance locked into place, his right arm cocked back, and then—a sharp crack split the air as his fist launched forward. Moving at half the speed of sound, the punch tore through the air with a faint blur.

Gerald, despite having no idea what Magnus was up to, reacted the moment the attack was thrown.

His left arm shot up, hand positioned to intercept the strike. The moment he made contact, however, an overwhelming force surged against him. His aura shielded him from the impact, but stopping it was impossible. Even as he braced his legs against the ground, the sheer momentum shoved him backward. His boots dragged through the dirt, kicking up dust as he skidded several meters before finally grinding to a halt.

Letting out a low whistle, Gerald lowered his arm.

"What the hell kind of punch was that, kid? I couldn't stop it at all."

"It's a variation of my gift—something I imbue into my movements. It makes them carry near-irresistible momentum and lets me control their speed," Magnus explained, once again framing his use of [Self Body Puppetry] as something stemming from his supposed gift. In a way, it wasn’t entirely a lie—after all, the ability came from the Command Console.

"Huh. That explains how you were taking on the Nullfang bare-handed. I figured you were using enhancement magic," Gerald said, shaking the hand he blocked with as he walked back over.

As he approached, Magnus asked, "Putting my gift aside, did you notice any issues with that punch just now?"

Gerald didn’t even have to think about it.

Folding his arms, he answered without hesitation, "Oh, sure—plenty."

"Eh?" Magnus blinked, caught off guard by how confidently Gerald said that. He had launched that punch using knowledge from his total life's memory, referencing moments from professional fighters at work. He expected at least some critique, but not such an immediate and assured response.

Gerald didn’t waste time elaborating.

"First off, I have no idea why you took that stance or why you bothered pulling your arm back. You can throw punches at high speed instantly, right? That means you don’t need to build up momentum. The most efficient way for you to strike is straight from a neutral position." To demonstrate, Gerald unfolded his arms and flicked his left hand toward Magnus’s head. The strike stopped just centimeters from his face, but the sheer force, amplified by his aura, sent a sharp breeze past Magnus, making his hair flutter.

"Also, it's obvious you put a lot of thought into your attacks but not nearly enough into defense or counterattacks."

Magnus frowned.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"What do you mean?" Gerald shrugged.

"It’s easier to show than explain. Go ahead—throw that punch again, but do it the way I just told you." Taking a short step back, Gerald signaled that he was ready. Magnus followed his instructions, this time skipping any wind-up or stance. His fist shot forward with a deafening crack, tearing through the air.

But this time, Gerald didn’t try to block it. The moment Magnus’s arm fully extended, he felt it—six separate impacts across his body. None were particularly strong, but they landed everywhere—his stomach, chest, head, jaw, even his legs. By the time the punch finished, Magnus stumbled back slightly, blinking in surprise.

"What just..." His words trailed off as Gerald calmly folded his arms again.

"That was how many openings you gave me to counterattack during that punch," Gerald said.

"I’m guessing no one’s ever punished you like that before?" Magnus, still shaking off the brief disorientation of being struck multiple times in an instant, slowly nodded.

"Yeah."

"Right, that's because of how fast you are. I don't know how you're doing it, but that gift of yours lets you control the speed of your movements and makes your attacks nearly unstoppable. You've been relying on those two things to overpower and outmatch anyone you've faced." Simply put, Magnus had never needed real skill in his attacks. The sheer speed and power granted by the Command Console created an overwhelming gap between him and his opponents. Against most foes, skill alone wasn’t enough to make a difference. Only against Adept-level or Master-level knights—those capable of reacting to movements at the speed of sound and beyond—did that advantage start to crumble.

And when it did? Magnus could just move even faster. After all, he had no real speed limit. But that wasn’t a solution—just a way to delay the problem.

"I see... I get it now," Magnus muttered to himself, lost in thought.

Basker, begin construction of [Combat Assistant]. Add a hard limit that prevents the visualization of any attack requiring a wind-up or built acceleration.

[Yes, Master.]

Turning his attention back to Gerald, Magnus asked, "Can you show me how I’d block or counter those six strikes you landed on me? One at a time."

Gerald raised an eyebrow. It was an unusual request. Typically, someone would ask how to eliminate their openings, not how to defend against attacks aimed at them.

Still, after thinking about it for a second, he said, "Sure," and went along with it.

He began demonstrating, having Magnus repeat the punch from a neutral stance while he countered just before impact. Each time, Gerald broke down the mechanics—where Magnus could block, how he could deflect, and what he could do to minimize the damage. Step by step, they moved through each opening, refining his defenses.

As they worked, Magnus remained in constant communication with Basker.

[The block to those forms of attacks has been archived and compiled in memory and added to the construction.]

[The counter to those forms of attacks has been archived and compiled in memory and added to the construction.]

What Magnus was attempting was a simple enough concept. He had always fought using instinct and logic together, and while that worked, it had flaws. Pain, fear, or hesitation could cloud his judgment, causing him to misread a situation or make a bad call. Even without distractions, mistakes were inevitable. He was only human, after all.

But then he had an idea—what if he wasn’t the one making the decisions?

The Command Console has access to my mind, my memories, and the way I think. I can use it freely as long as it's within my own head, and it can even generate mental visualizations to speed up execution. So why not have it automate my actions?

The plan was simple: create an AI within his mind—one that thought as he did, followed the same logic but existed solely to analyze and optimize combat. If he were attacked, it would instantly search his memories for the best possible counter and execute it without requiring his conscious input.

There was just one problem.

For this to work, Magnus needed to already have those counters stored in his memory. No matter how advanced he made his [Combat Assistant], it was still limited by what he had experienced. If an attack came from an angle he had never encountered, there would be no reference point. It would be forced to generate its own "optimal" response, but whether that response was truly optimal—especially against a trained fighter like Gerald—was another question entirely.

If he went down that route, it would be endless trial and error—creating a defense, watching it fail, and then refining it again.

Trial and error isn't something I'm unfamiliar with... but why go through it when I can just learn directly from someone who already has the experience?

"Alright, I think I got it now," Magnus said, his tone carrying understanding as Gerald finished demonstrating how to evade a frontal arcing kick to the head.

"Huh? Are you sure? I only showed you all this stuff once," Gerald said, eyeing him with doubt.

"I have a pretty good memory," Magnus said before suddenly launching a punch straight at Gerald's face.

Gerald barely tilted his head in time, leaning just enough for the punch to miss by a hair. In the same instant, he countered with a sharp knee aimed at Magnus’s stomach. A dull sound rippled through the air as both their movements came to a halt. Gerald looked down—Magnus’s free hand had caught his knee just before impact, stopping the strike completely.

Gerald let out an impressed hum.

"Not bad. Guess you weren’t lying about that memory." Magnus chuckled, but internally, his mind was still processing what had just happened.

[Combat Assistant] wasn’t something he activated—it was always running, from the moment he had Basker construct it.

Just now, he hadn’t consciously thrown that punch. He had merely decided to attack, and [Combat Assistant] had immediately selected the most optimal strike from his memory. When Gerald dodged and countered, it reacted just as quickly, pulling the best counter it could find and executing it in real-time.

The unsettling part? Magnus hadn’t been in control at all.

It was a jarring sensation, feeling his own body move without his input, like a puppet on strings. But the results spoke for themselves. [Combat Assistant] was just as intelligent as he was—except stripped of human distractions like hesitation or overthinking. A human-level AI built purely for combat.

"Now, tell me something," Gerald said, snapping Magnus out of his thoughts.

"What do you do next?"

Magnus blinked.

"You mean my next move?"

Gerald nodded.

"That's right. You caught your opponent’s blow, and your extended strike didn’t land. What’s your best follow-up?" Magnus took a second to think before acting. His outstretched arm bent at the elbow, hooking around Gerald’s neck. At the same time, he kicked out Gerald’s remaining leg—his knee was still caught, making it an easy target. It all happened in an instant. Gerald was yanked off balance, careening backward toward the ground.

"Not bad," Gerald admitted as he fell.

"But you made the same mistake twice." Before Magnus could process what that meant, Gerald’s hand shot out, gripping his collar. With a sharp twist of his body, the momentum meant to slam Gerald into the ground instead transferred to Magnus.

Magnus hit the earth hard.

"Agh..." It barely hurt—his body’s reinforced state dulled the impact—but when he opened his eyes, Gerald was already standing over him, perfectly positioned to strike.

"You always need a backup plan in case your attack is blocked or countered," Gerald said, his tone firm.

"That’s something you need to drill into your mind—staying prepared. Magic and aura make things more complicated, but at its core, this is a fundamental truth of combat." With that, he stepped back and offered a hand. Magnus sat there for a moment, letting the lesson sink in, before reaching up and taking it. As Gerald pulled him to his feet, he caught the fire in Magnus’s eyes and let out a laugh causing Magnus to frown.

"What are you laughing at now?" Gerald just shook his head, still grinning.

"Nothing. Just that, judging from that look in your eyes, I’m guessing I’m gonna be stuck here a while, huh?"

Magnus thought about it for a second before smiling with a nod.

"Yeah, probably." He needed Gerald’s help—to learn more, to see more. He needed more efficient attacks, more refined defenses, and ways to eliminate excess movement and push [Self Body Puppetry] and [Combat Assistant] to their absolute limit.

The closer I get to my goal, the more combat will become like a game of rock-paper-scissors—my [Combat Assistant] analyzing every situation and selecting the perfect response to shift things in my favor. And once I reach that level of efficiency, my body will be on autopilot.

A perfect, combat-ready machine.