บท 9: Combat Training
Thirteen had just finished attending Cultivation Hall, and had gathered outside in front of Instructor Diores.
The Instructors were all grouped up today, like they were whenever they had something to announce, or the activities were changing.
After the 42 children –including 8-41 who had received medical attention months ago– had gathered before the instructors, Diores addressed them all.
"It's been just over two months and you've all got some meat on your bones by now i'm sure. But we have no need for athletes or sportsmen, what we want are warriors. Henceforth, Physical Training will take a step back as we focus on Combat Training.
To begin, you will all start learning unarmed combat from myself and the other Instructors. No matter your cultivation method, no matter your weapon of choice, a foundation of unarmed combat is necessary to survive.
After I believe you have all begun to grasp the basics, we will begin training you in the use of weaponry while still continuing your unarmed training. The days are going to get longer, and we'll never leave this field before the sun has fled, so prepare yourselves."
'The days will get longer?' Thirteen thought in disbelief. 'Won't that mean I have less time to meditate?' The thought of spending his meditation time throwing punches or swinging wooden swords was surprisingly difficult to accept for Thirteen.
He had played swordsman all the time back in Rehall, swinging sticks around with his friends, and he was never a particularly patient kid, but he was beginning to realize just how much he needed that peaceful meditation.
Instructor Diores didn't wait for Thirteen to finish complaining in his mind, and immediately set about having the children form orderly rows, each person more than an arms reach away from the child next to them.
The afternoon mostly consisted of Diores whipping a sense of stance and positioning into them. If their footing was incorrect, he would show them why with a kick, if their body posture was wrong, he'd slap them upside the head and adjust.
Thirteen found this part the most ludicrous, how could standing here, throwing left punch, right punch, and so on, teach them how to fight? When would he ever have a chance to find the 'right' posture, make a stance and throw one straight punch after another hoping to hit something?
But Thirteen could only begrudgingly accept the reality that his thoughts mattered not, as he followed the Instructor's "silly" orders, as his rebellious mind had dubbed them.
As the day went on, Instructor Diores had them all perform a variety of routine practices like this in sync with one another. By Dusk, most of the children were so exhausted they simply couldn't keep up with the commands. Thirteen noticed however that while his muscles screamed at him to stop, he could always keep going. He suspected this had to do with his healing attribute as one other child he knew to have to have the same also managed to keep pace with the instructor.
As night fell entirely, the instructors each lit lanterns and continued the training for an hour longer before calling it a day. Of course, they had given the children a few breaks throughout the afternoon, but that didn't prevent them each from collapsing to the ground when the order to stop was given.
Thirteen didn't even have the strength to meditate after dinner and instead went straight to bed. That wasn't too bad though, as his sleep was especially fulfilling that night.
After a week of routine drills in combat training, as well as practicing with dummies, a huge amount of helpers had begun joining the daily Combat Training. Thirteen didn't even know the estate had this many helpers, and none of them seemed weak.
Of course, Thirteen only thought as such now that he knew that skinny people could be strong too. Nicholas never stopped emphasizing this point when he spoke of the cultivation world, stating that even body refiners, depending on their unique arts could look thin, or even emaciated in some circumstances.
Instead, Nicholas had always taught them to judge a person's strength by his bearing. How subservient he is to others and who those others are. How he stands and how he walks. Thirteen couldn't even guess as to the level of strength someone had just by watching, but he could now categorize people into what he recognized as "strong" and "normal" people. He never dared make a "weak" people category after hearing of emaciated cultivators, that seemed like a bad mistake.
As Thirteen was losing himself in thought, trying his best to size up the many helpers, Diores began assigning a helper to each student. At this Thirteen realized that there must be at least 42 helpers here.
Thirteen's name was called after Twelves. Obviously. He had been assigned a female helper by the name of Instructor Melia.
Melia seemed quite youthful compared to most of the helpers. Though she was certainly approaching her mid to late 30s, she seemed to hop and bounce with every step, like she had never lost her youthful behavior with time. As Thirteen followed her lead into an open area, Melia addressed him first in a cheerful voice.
"Thirteen right? I'll be your sparring partner and personal trainer for the foreseeable future as I beat some practical skill into you. The way this will work is I want you to use what you were taught to try and hit me. If you make mistakes I will correct them, and if you're lacking I'll help you improve.
There are only two things I don't want to see from you.
Firstly, don't hold back just because it's a spar, I guarantee you couldn't land a hit on me if I didn't allow it. Secondly, If you ever lose your senses and start flailing your arms like a child I'll hurt you.
Okay?"
Thirteen had never heard someone cheerfully talk about hurting him, but he could only gulp his saliva and nod.
"Good." Melia nodded in return before taking a few steps back.
"Come on then. Hit me."
Thirteen felt a bit awkward suddenly being told to attack someone he had just met, and he knew this showed in his actions as they were slow and lacking purpose. As his hesitant fist was swatted away, Thirteen felt a sharp stinging on his nose.
Looking at Merial, he could see a bit of blood on her right fist as she hopped around with her arms up.
"What did I say Thirteen? Come at me!" She shouted in a light voice.
'Fuck.' Thirteen let out a rare curse at the pain as he confirmed his nose was bleeding. He didn't have time to express his displeasure though, as Melia began pushing closer and closer to him.
Trying to place his feet the way Instructor Diores has told him, Thirteen was getting ready to defend when his legs were swept out from under him.
"Too slow! Don't worry so much about placing your feet, just adjust as you go until it feels the same as when you practice. You'll have to move them anyway to get close."
Getting up from the floor, Thirteen could feel he was getting increasingly angry at the woman, but he remembered her two warnings and stopped himself from just rushing at her, swinging his arms around.
After an hour of sparring with Helper Melia, Thirteen had been hurt and exhausted, while she continued bouncing around like she was playing a game. He hadn't managed to hit her once, but he had understood what she meant about his posture. He needed to focus on her at all times, he couldn't be looking at his own feet trying to place them correctly.
He had also understood a little of why Instructor Diores had them do those "ludicrous" exercises. After Melia beat some sense into him, he had been able to form his posture quickly without paying it a lot of mind because he knew what it felt like from the drills. He also knew how to move his whole body, from his legs to his waist when punching, and didn't need to think about it too much after the first 10 minutes of sparring.
Melia had deflected and blocked some hits, others she simply outstretched a hand and had him make contact. Sometimes she would evade him, other times she would use her palms like targets for Thirteen to hit.
Now though, it was finally over, and thirteen sat on the ground more exhausted than any of the Physical Training or routine drills had made him before. After every one of the children had finished sparring with their helper, Instructor Diores called out to them all.
"In half an hour, we will continue our drills, and then spar some more. After that the day will end with physical training once more. In a week, you will begin sparring with other students, with the winners receiving rewards. Do your best in the upcoming week to get used to fighting and use this as motivation."
Immediately the children became excited talking about sparring and rewards, only to be interrupted by one more announcement "And I will say this now, any students caught sparring with each other outside of sanctioned spars in Combat Training will be punished severely. You barely know how to throw a punch, if you start sparring in your own time someone will lose an eye."
Thirteen didn't think that last announcement was necessary. 'Who would want to fight each other for fun?' He was interested in the reward at the end of the week though, so he decided to give it his all, but the prospect of fighting his friends was a bit daunting.
And so, the day continued with more routine practice, more sparring, and then physical training that they hadn't done for a while now.
Throughout the next week, Thirteen learnt a lot from his sparring with Melia. She often berated him for being too defensive, and Thirteen had realized she would intentionally anger him just to make him proactively attack. He had thought that taking the initiative would remove her need to tease and bully him, but apparently he was wrong as she kept at it with a smile.
During this time Thirteen learnt about feints and probing hits, though that's not to say he could make the most of them, inexperienced as he is. He also gradually became more fluent with his footwork. According to Melia, he should be in the better half of the students here.
That was more relieving than Thirteen had expected. He had assumed that with something like Healing for his attribute he would fall behind in things like this. With the hope given that that wasn't true, he only worked harder, eventually losing some of his apprehension to fighting and even growing excited at the prospect of competing with his friends. At the end of the day, wasn't it just like playing swordsman at home? They were just better at it now.
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