After parting ways with Jules, Berald and I headed to the training grounds. As expected of soone from the Ryu family, Berald already owned a private training room, the very thing I had planned to “borrow” so gold from Jules to secure.
Looking around the room, I said, “This is nice. A private training room does make a difference. There’s even a soundproofing barrier around it.”
“It was provided by my family,” Berald replied, changing into more comfortable training clothes. A faint, bitter smile played on his lips.
As he casually ward up, he asked, “By the way, why did you suddenly suggest I learn hand-to-hand combat? Don’t tell you also forgot I’m a Mage Division cadet?”
The way he emphasized “also” made it clear that he had been mistaken for that many tis before. Well, who would believe a guy with that build belonged to the Mage Division?
Honestly, I had thought the sa when I first saw him during the supplentary classes, taking him for an upperclassman older than . Never would I have guessed that he, of all people, was a Mage Division cadet a year below . I was used to it now, but back then, it was a real shock.
I replied, “There’s no school rule that says Mage Division cadets can’t learn hand-to-hand combat, is there?”
Berald scratched his head with a sheepish grin. “Well, I suppose not.”
He then clenched his fist and nodded. “Fine. I’ll give it a shot if it’s just a casual try.”
“Great. Then let’s start with a light test.”
“A test?”
“I should at least see what level you’re at right now.”
Berald lowered his stance as if he understood. “Ah, got it. Makes sense.”
He raised his fists to face level and bent his knees. His breathing beca shallow, muscles relaxed just enough to spring into action at any mont. No one had taught him that stance. It just ca naturally.
See? He was born to throw punches, I thought.
I let out a small smirk and stepped back slightly. Not bothering with a stance, I stood tall, arms relaxed and hanging loosely at my sides, like I had just rolled out of bed. Berald frowned as he took in my posture, not seeing a single trace of fighting spirit or tension in it.
Maybe he thought I was looking down on him, but Berald glared at and clenched his fist tighter, a sharper edge in his gaze. “Heh. Looks like you’ve found so kind of huge enlightennt since I last saw you. But there’s sothing you should know, too, Brother. I might not be any good at magic, but when it cos to throwing fists, I’m pretty damn confident.”
The soul stigmata on his left chest glowed, and mana spread throughout his body. A deep thud echoed through the training floor as Berald launched himself forward with explosive force. The distance between us closed in the blink of an eye. His fist, charged with mana, tore through the air toward my philtrum with a fierce whoosh. It was an impressively precise strike, especially for soone who had supposedly never trained in formal hand-to-hand combat.
“That’s perfect.” I casually reached out toward the incoming punch.
Like a hawk snatching prey, I seized his wrist mid-flight, swept at his ankle with my foot, and yanked the captured wrist downward in one fluid motion.
“I’ve got so confidence in throwing punches too, you know,” I said.
Berald’s massive body soared into the air. The technique I had was nad Sky Flip. It was sothing Berald himself had once taught in my past life, and now, I had returned the favor, turning his body upside down through ti itself. Berald slamd into the ground, back-first, gasping for breath as pain ripped through his lungs.
“What, you’re done already?” I asked.
“Ugh! Whatever that was, I can tell that you really have found enlightennt!” Still groaning, Berald staggered back to his feet and launched at again.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Each step shook the floor like an earthquake as his nearly two-ter fra charged in.
“Looks like you think brute force solves everything.” Instead of dodging, I charged forward as well.
His massive fist ca swinging toward with terrifying power and t mine. The mont our fists collided, a deafening blast rang out, and Berald’s fist was flung backward.
“Ughhh!”
Physically, both his strength and the mana infused in his punch were far superior to mine. Yet the one clutching his hand in pain and stumbling back was him.
I stepped toward him, closing the distance. “If the strongest guy always won, then what would be the point of hand-to-hand combat?”
My fists flew forward, raining down on Berald like a storm. One strike to the philtrum, two quick hits to the throat and solar plexus, a knee to break his stance, then a knife-hand chop to the crown of his head.
“Guhh! Cough!” Berald clutched his head with both hands and let out a wild scream.
“Want to keep going?” I asked.
“N-no! I surrender! I surrender!”
The difference between us was so overwhelming that there was no point in dragging it out.
Berald stared at in disbelief, blinking rapidly. “Ugh! Where did you learn such a technique?”
“That’s... Let’s just say it’s a secret,” I replied. How could I tell him? That the one who had taught all of this was none other than him and that I was here now only because he had been there for .
Berald shook his head and got back to his feet. “Well, if it’s hard to say, you don’t have to tell . Still, I thought I was pretty good at throwing punches, but I guess Warrior Division cadets are on another level.”
“No, you’ve got it wrong.”
“Hmm? What do you an?”
“I’d say among all the Warrior Division cadets, only a few can stand toe-to-toe in barehanded hand-to-hand combat with you.”
Berald already had remarkable skill, even without formal hand-to-hand combat training. He had an overwhelming natural strength that defied reason, massive mana reserves to support that power, heavy and precise strikes that felt anything but untrained, and an instinct for timing his breath with each move.
Yeah, when it cos to throwing punches, he’s just built differently, I thought.
He was born full of talent, yet he could never put up a proper fight against and got beaten to a pulp every ti. Why? It was simple. Though it seems a bit narcissistic to fra it like that, it was because his opponent was .
Anyway, the gap between us right now was so vast that re talent couldn’t even co close to bridging it. Even Professor Kane, who had mastered barehanded hand-to-hand combat, wouldn’t be able to match with just his fists. So, how could Berald, who hadn’t even formally learned it, stand a chance against ?
Don’t feel wronged. After all, you’re the one who made who I am today, I apologized to him in my mind.
Suddenly, Berald asked, “But, Bro, what you just showed , was that really hand-to-hand combat?”
“Hm?”
Berald thoughtfully narrowed his eyes. “It felt a bit different from the hand-to-hand combat I know. When our fists collided earlier, do you rember that mont? Right before your fist touched mine, sothing popped, and my fist just bounced right off.”
I kept silent.
He continued, “It’s hard to explain, but it didn’t feel like pure hand-to-hand combat. More like there was so magic mixed in? That sort of feeling?”
“Hah!” A dry chuckle slipped from my lips.
Seriously, you figured that out after one clash? Yeah, that’s right, even if you don’t realize it yourself, this is ultimately a combat style you created, I thought.
I hadn’t expected him to see through it so quickly. Nevertheless, I answered, “You’re right. This is a combat style that can only be properly used if you’ve learned magic.”
“A combat style that requires magic? That’s a thing?”
I nodded calmly. “Yeah.”
Berald let out a low hum. “What’s it called, this martial art of yours?”
“The na?”
“A technique of that level must have a na, right?”
“The na, huh!” I stifled a laugh and shook my head.
Suddenly, a mory from my past life flashed through my mind.
“Hey, now that I think about it, what’s the na of this combat style?” I had asked.
“The na?” Berald had replied.
“Yeah. I know you took bits and pieces from other places, but this is practically your creation.”
“Hm, I never really thought of a na.”
“Co on. You made sothing this advanced, and you didn’t even na it?”
“Hahaha! If I had to na it, I’d call it the ‘Berald Combat Style.’”
“Wait, are you serious? That’s what you’re going with?”
“Isn’t it cool?”
In response, I had just stared at him and shaken my head in disbelief as he shrugged proudly.
“You know, sothing like Taiji Fist or Five Elents Fist. Those sound more legit,” I had said.
“Haha! Still, I like ‘Berald Combat Style’ the best!”
“Why though?”
“Because only you and I know this combat style in the entire continent.”
“And so?”
“You’ve got an immortal body, right? You’ll live a long, long ti. My old man used to forget his own kid’s na when he got old.”
He had left speechless.
“But no matter how long you live, if it’s a technique you’ve practiced your whole life, you won’t forget its na, right?” he had said.
And so, it was nad Berald Combat Style.
“Even if I die, at least you’ll rember my na.”
“Who said anything about you dying, you dumbass.”
“Heh! Either way, I made it, so I get to na it what I want!”
“Fine. Berald Combat Style it is. Just... don’t say dumb stuff about dying.”
“Haha! Of course! You think soone like would die so easily? I’ll live long enough to bash the Demon God’s skull in and sar his crap all over the walls!”
“Alright, alright. When that day cos, I’ll be there to clean up your ss.”
Not long after that, Berald had collapsed before into a cold, lifeless corpse.
Back in the present, veins bulged from my clenched fist. Berald looked at and asked, “Hmm? Bro? Is sothing wrong?”
“No, it’s nothing. Just spaced out for a mont.”
“Huh! So, what’s the na of this combat style, in the end?”
“The na.” I glanced at Berald and shrugged. “There isn’t one.”
“What? A combat style that powerful doesn’t even have a na?”
“Combat styles are a fringe technique to begin with.”
Berald let out a sigh and shook his head. “Still though.”
“Then how about this?”
“Hm? What?” Berald asked.
“If you fully master this combat style soday, we’ll na it after you.”
“My na?”
I nodded. “Yeah. We’ll call it the Berald Combat Style.”
“No way! How can I put my na on sothing I learned from you? If anything, it should have your na on it.”
“Shut it. I said that’s what we’re doing. Or I’m not teaching you.”
Berald hesitated, scratching his head awkwardly, then finally nodded. “Alright. If I fully master what you teach , we’ll call it that.”
“Good. Let’s get started then.” I turned to Berald and held up two fingers. “There are two main ways to control mana. One is circulating it within your body to affect the Inner Realm. The other is releasing it outward to affect the Outer Realm.”
Blending these two approaches in harmony was the core principle behind the Berald Combat Style.
Berald beca flustered. “W-why are we suddenly talking about mana theory? I thought you were going to teach hand-to-hand combat?”
“Just listen, dumbass. You need this to use what I’m teaching you.”
“I suck at theory though...” Berald trailed off with a sulky expression.
I had the sudden urge to smack him on the head for being scared before we even started. But I knew I had to hold it in. After all, I had reacted the sa way in my past life when Berald had first suggested I learn the Berald Combat Style.
I explained, “Normally, when we say ‘magic,’ we’re referring to releasing mana externally, to affect the Outer Realm, in other words, the macroscopic world.”
“That’s what it ant?” he asked.
“What do you an ‘That’s what it ant?’ Dude, you learned this in your first year.”
“Ahem! Strange. I don’t rember learning that.”
He left speechless, thinking, Stay calm, breathe. Hold it in, Dale.
In my past life, Berald had definitely been equally frustrated, but he never once snapped at while teaching. I continued, “Anyway, what’s more important here isn’t the visible macroscopic world, but the microscopic world.”
“Ooh! Microscopic world! So that’s what it ans!” Berald nodded and stroked his chin like he finally understood sothing.
Good. Even if he didn’t properly listen to all his classes, he should at least know that much, I thought.
Feeling slightly proud, I was about to continue my explanation when Berald said, “I didn’t know you were into the sa things I was, bro!”
“What?” I asked. Into the sa what?
“Haha! When it cos to won, petite ones are the best, am I right?”
“No,” I replied. What the hell was this guy going on about?
“A woman burdened with sorrow and loneliness! That deep, mature allure that kids can’t even co close to,” Berald added.
“Get it down.”
“Pardon? Get what down where?”
“Get your damn head on the floor,” I said.
What a damn idiot!
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