The two of them rejoined the other students, who were all eyeing Damien with a mixture of concerned and impressed glances.
“Who’s next?” Sylph asked.
“I think I’m good,” Reena said, nodding in Nolan’s direction. “You’re stronger than Damien, and Nolan got pummeled by him. I learned enough just by watching you guys fight.”
“Like what?” Nolan challenged.
“My limits,” Reena replied with a laugh.
A breeze rippled through the Arena and Damien’s hair prickled. A mote of grey formed at eye level before them, twisting and expanding outwards. With a flourish, Delph appeared, flicking his tattered cape out of the way.
To his credit, Damien managed to avoid flinching. Sylph and Mark didn’t look surprised in the slightest, but the Grays both jumped.
“Professor Delph,” Nolan said. “We don’t have class yet, do we?”
“No, you’ve still got a few days left of your week off,” Delph replied. “I just heard that my students were practicing and felt left out. It’s good to see that you all returned safely from your quests.”
His eyes wept over all of them, pausing for a moment longer on Damien and Sylph before continuing. “I presume you’ve all made progress in your studies?”
“As much as can be expected,” Mark said, rolling his neck. “Presuming you’ve shown up here, are you going to be offering extra training today?”
“What makes you think that?” Delph asked, crossing his arms. “I could just be checking up on you.”
“Are you?”
“Well, no. But that’s a moot point,” Delph said, dismissing Mark’s words with a wave of his hand. “No strings attached this time, though. You don’t have to attend this training if you’ve got better things to do. It’s just if you want to.”
“That’s basically what you said the first time you offered the training,” Damien pointed out. “And you nearly kicked kids out of your class after that.”
“My word on it this time, boy,” Delph replied. “Fully optional. I was observing the fights and I’ve located some spots where most of you can improve.”
“I’m interested,” Damien said. Mark and Sylph voiced their agreement as well, but both Gray siblings politely ducked out and left the Arena before Delph could loop them into anything.
“Right then,” Delph said. “We’ll start with Damien, since you’ve still got the most to improve.”
“I thought my magic had come a long way,” Damien said with a frown. “I beat Nolan!”
“Your magic is improving very well,” Delph said. “But you are not purely a scholar. A combat mage must be at least proficient in martial arts in order to fight at their maximum capabilities. Being able to control your body and read your opponent will go a long way in improving your strength.”
“That makes sense,” Damien allowed. “So you’re going to teach me martial arts?”
“Of course not,” Delph replied. “It takes a lifetime to master martial arts. If we had a few years to work with and I didn’t get bored, I could probably make you half proficient. However, I don’t feel like spending the time. Instead, Sylph is going to teach you martial arts. Both of you, actually.”
“Me?” Mark asked, blinking. “Why? I know the sword arts.”
“You know them at a rudimentary level,” Delph corrected. “Sylph is almost a master of hand to hand combat. I’m not at liberty to share her circumstances, but if we were banned from using magic, she’d probably have a chance at defeating me. A very small one, mind you.”
“He’s lying,” Henry said in Damien’s mind. “He meant the part about Sylph being strong, but he doesn’t think for a second that she can beat him.”
How can you tell? Are you mind reading him somehow?
“No. You already figured out we can’t do anything like that to random people,” Henry said. “It’s his facial expression. Delph’s eyes flick to the side when he lies. It’s miniscule, and there’s a chance that he’s faking it, but there’s no reason for him to do that right now.”
Interesting. Why would he lie about that, then?
Henry gave the equivalent of a mental shrug. Delph cleared his throat.
“Damien? Are you done daydreaming?”
He blushed and shook his head. “Sorry, Professor. Long day.”
“I’m sure,” Delph said. “And, as I said, I’ll give you some guidance since I’m already here. Observe and copy my motions.”
Delph lowered into a fighting stance, raising onto the balls of his feet and adjusting his stance. Damien did his best to mimic the man’s pose.
“Stay there,” Delph said, standing normally again and walking over to Damien. He shifted the boy’s foot back with his own, nudging and prodding him for a few moments. “There. Raise your hands.”
Damien copied what he’d seen Sylph do a few times, balling his fists and lifting them near his face. Delph grunted and adjusted the boy’s posture slightly, but he seemed largely satisfied with it.
“Memorize this position,” Delph said. “And don’t stand still. Shift your weight back and forth on the balls of your feet. You need to be ready to react. There’s a reason that ‘being caught flat footed’ is a phrase.”
Damien did as he was instructed. It felt completely ridiculous, and he half expected Delph to burst into laughter.
“Too much movement,” Delph said. “Small shifts. You’re keeping yourself primed to react, not a hyperactive child.”
After Damien had adjusted to follow the professor’s words, Delph gave him a slight nod. “That’s as good as you’re going to get for now. Now, this is how you throw a punch.”
Delph dropped back into the fighting stance and slowly demonstrated the proper form of a punch. He started with the palm side of his fist facing upwards, then twisted his hand as he moved it outwards. “Make sure you throw your weight behind it. Drive the strike home with your shoulder.”
The professor repeated the motion several times. Damien followed in his steps. It was hard to tell if he was really making any progress without a real way to measure how good his strike actually was, but Delph seemed satisfied enough.
Their lesson continued for nearly another hour. Delph corrected his position more times than Damien could count and taught him the difference between jabs and punches as well as a few basic kicks.
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Once he’d finished with Damien, Delph sent the boy to the side to continue practicing and turned to Mark.
“Now it’s your turn. I’m aware you know how to fight, but your methods are, frankly, savage.”
“They work,” Mark replied with a shrug. “Unpredictability makes my style dangerous.”
“Only because you’re stronger than your opponents,” Delph said. “And you’ve mistaken stupidity for unpredictability. It’s true that having an unpredictable style is very powerful, but you are not as clever as you believe yourself to be. Come at me. Allow me to demonstrate. We will not use magic.”
The professor tapped his chest and his armor faded away, leaving behind heavy leather clothing and his cape.
Mark shrugged, plunging his sword into the ground and dropping into an aggressive stance. He lunged forward and drove an open palm towards Delph’s chest. Delph casually caught the strike with one hand. Mark used his momentum to drive an uppercut up towards the professor’s stomach.
Delph slapped the strike aside with his other hand, then flicked Mark on the forehead. Mark snarled and spun, whipping a hook kick towards Delph’s head. Delph leaned back, allowing the strike to sail past his nose harmlessly before sweeping the boy’s leg out from under him.
Mark rolled across the sand and shot to his feet, throwing a rapid fire barrage of strikes at Delph’s torso and head. Delph deflected every single one of them with a single hand, looking completely uninterested the entire time.
Delph finally grew tired of the fight, grabbing Mark’s fist on his next strike and flipping the boy over, slamming him into the sand. The air rushed out of Mark’s lungs in a grunt.
“I would have expected a performance like that from someone like Damien,” Delph said. “Not you.”
“Thanks,” Damien said sarcastically.
“Anytime,” Delph replied. “Mark, you have potential matched only by your arrogance. You believe your powers make you infinitely stronger than your peers, but you overestimate yourself and underestimate them. Strength is fleeting if you do not continue to pursue it.”
Mark’s glare persisted for several seconds before finally starting to fade as recognition replaced it. He rose to his feet, brushing the sand off his clothes. “Point made. What do I need to improve?”
“You throw attacks wildly. Your problem is not your techniques but the thoughts behind them. Think ahead. What do you hope to gain from each attack?”
“I don’t get it,” Mark said bluntly. “I’m trying to hit you – in this case, to knock you out.”
“Imagine this,” Delph said, pantomiming a strike. “I swing at your face. What do you do?”
“I either dodge or try to block it,” Mark said.
“Let’s presume you block it,” Delph said. “Now you’ve raised a hand to defend your head. The middle and lower half of the right side of your body are now exposed. I can kick you and it will be much easier to land a blow. Now, your opponent is also thinking about this. So they might choose to dodge or simply react faster than you.”
“So what’s the point?” Mark asked. “If you have to think about every move you make, but I’m throwing attacks faster than you can think about them, I’ll win.”
“It’s all a game,” Delph replied. “The issue is that you’re thinking of an attack as a single punch. That is not an attack. That is a move. The attack is the entire series of blows, all chained together in order to ensure a strike lands. Allow me to demonstrate.”
Delph leisurely swiped at Mark’s head. The boy ducked out of the way, only to find Delph’s other fist speeding towards his nose. Mark’s eyes widened and he jerked his head back, but Delph didn’t let up.
The professor stepped forward, raising a leg to kick at Mark’s side. Mark started to lower his hand to block the strike, but Delph flicked him on the shoulder instead of finishing the kick. Before Mark could react, Delph tapped him on the chest with his other hand.
“You aren’t thinking consciously. That means your subconscious has the reigns, and your subconscious is easy to trick,” Delph said. “Learn to look for the signs that a person is faking an attack. Watch their eyes – learn to feel their thoughts as they think them.”
“That sounds like a spell, not a fighting technique,” Mark said dryly.
“Perhaps. But the way to learn both is the same,” Delph replied. “Practice. Do not let your gift cripple you. I have seen it before you, and I will see it again. Practice against Sylph whenever she lets you, and sometimes when she doesn’t. It’s fighting, after all. Learning to think on your feet will help all of you.”
“What about me?” Damien asked.
“When you learn how to kick without tripping over your own feet, you’re welcome to try fighting Mark or Sylph. Maybe you’ll get good enough to avoid wasting their time. I’m curious to see if your natural talent at learning magic translates to learning combat.”
“And what of me?” Sylph asked. “Is there anything you can teach me?”
“In hand to hand combat?” Delph asked, scoffing. “You know the answer to that. The only thing I’ve got over you there is experience. I can help you with magic, but there’s nothing I can tell you about physical fighting that you don’t already know.”
The professor raised a hand, listening to something that only he could hear for a moment. Then he gave them a firm nod. His armor popped back around him and the gray cloak whipped into a cocoon around the man, shrinking to a point and vanishing with a pop.
“Just where did you learn how to fight?” Mark asked, watching the spot where Delph had vanished. “He speaks of you like a soldier instead of a student.”
“I had a very dedicated teacher,” Sylph replied. “Did you want to try sparring me hand to hand?”
“Not yet,” Mark replied with a chuckle. “I’m not dumb enough to take that bait. Delph has no reason to talk you up if you aren’t truly talented. If I can’t beat him, I don’t think there’s much I can do against you. I need to mull over his words.”
Mark bid them farewell and headed out of the arena. Damien, who was still in his fighting stance, stood back up and grimaced. He’d managed to find new muscles to make sore again.
“Well, I suppose I’ve got a few more days to kill over break,” Damien said. “Maybe I’ll get good enough to try my hand against you before classes start again.”
Sylph laughed. “Keep dreaming. Focus on learning how to stand before you try to fly.”
They headed out of the arena as well. When they got back to their room, they had another meal of the panther steak before getting back to training for the rest of the day.
The rest of the week passed quickly. Damien put off learning the new spell at Henry’s recommendation, instead focusing on training his martial art skills as quickly as he could. He practiced with Henry’s watchful eyes through most of the day, training against Sylph whenever she got a break from her own work, and continuing on in his dreams when he went to sleep.
He improved at an impressive rate, but it was a far cry from his talent with magic and Sylph was far from an easy opponent. Whenever they crossed fists, she held only enough back to avoid breaking bones. Her strikes were fast and true, and more than one session ended with Damien sitting in the shower and nursing his bruises.
They saw little of Mark or the Grays for the rest of the week. Everyone seemed to be just as focused on practicing as they were.