Vane came on and Cal planted his feet.

  The impulse to tumble away rose in his consciousness like a reflex, his recent exploits demanding that he roll, to create space. Sergeant Tanner's voice reiterated in his skull: 'no more running around.'

  Sinking into a modified [Iron Root Stance] that fortified his knees and hips, Cal shifted his weight and raised his forearms into a tight guard, with his elbows protecting his ribs and fists level with his temples.

  Vane's grin split wider, lips framing his perfect teeth. "Finally, you're standing still! Now we can have a real conversation!"

  The first punch came like a freight train, a heavy cross aimed at Cal's ribs. He tucked his elbow down hard, taking the blow on his forearm. The impact rattled his bones, the shock transmitting through his radius and ulna into his shoulder socket. He grunted but held his ground.

  I don't need movie-fu… I've got the real thing right in front of me. He just needed to observe it, record it with [Perfect Memory], and let [Savant of the Body] reverse-engineer the mechanics. If he could last that long.

  Vane was a living manual, masquerading as his opponent.

  Cal leaned on [Combat Analysis] and his perception of the fight shifted. The chaotic blur of fists and motion resolved into a series of discrete data points. Vane's weight distribution and the angle of his shoulders. His hip rotation. The sequence of muscle contractions that launched every blow.

  Vane threw another combination. Cal had enough knowledge from Earth to at least understand what he was seeing: jab, cross, hook.

  Cal blocked the first two and ate the third on his shoulder. The hook spun him slightly, but he corrected his stance, his eyes never leaving Vane's centerline.

  "Don't just stand there! Conversations need two people!" The man's breath came in quick bursts, charged with anticipation.

  Hard to get a word in edgewise, Cal thought, gritting his teeth as he absorbed another big blow. Especially when you won't stop shouting.

  Cal watched Vane chamber another hook, pulling his elbow wide to generate torque. The motion left Vane's center unguarded for a fraction of a second.

  There. A straight line down the center. Shortest distance between two points. Cal fired his lead hand out.

  The punch was stiff and fast, his knuckles driving forward in a piston motion that mimicked the action of a short thrust. His fist connected with Vane's nose, jerking the man's skull backward.

  [New Skill Gained: Jab (F) - Practiced]

  Practiced already? The synergy with his spear training was undeniable. The mechanics of controlling distance, of using leverage to redirect force—it translated well.

  "There," Cal panted, resetting his guard. "My opening statement."

  Vane blinked, surprise flashing across his face before the grin returned, darting back in.

  Cal hadn't been idle. He rotated his hips, channeling force through his kinetic chain, and shot his rear hand forward. The strike slammed into Vane's sternum, stopping his forward momentum cold.

  [New Skill Gained: Cross (F) - Practiced]

  Stumbling back a step, Vane laughed, the sound ragged but earnest. "Yes! There's the snap! Knew you weren't just decoration!"

  Cal's knuckles throbbed. His forearms were already bruising from blocking Vane's earlier assault, but his [Combat Analysis] had flagged the critical truth: linear strikes were the foundation. Everything else built from this.

  Vane adjusted his guard and charged forward again. When Cal threw another jab, Vane caught it on his forearm. The cross followed and met the same fate. Vane shelled up behind his guard, absorbing the straight punches with minimal movement.

  "Polite knocking? Nobody's home!" Vane threw a lightning fast shot at Cal's head that clipped his forehead before he could deflect it off line.

  Cal pulled back, breathing hard. His mind raced. To hit the ribs he had to move the guard. He needed Vane to reach.

  He feinted low, then flicked a sharp [Jab] straight at Vane’s eyes. The strike served as a blinding distraction.

  Vane reacted instinctively. His forearms shifted upward, his guard climbing to protect his face.

  Cal stepped outside Vane's lead foot, changing the angle of attack. Twisting his back leg, he used the rotation to amplify his power and swung his arm in a tight arc around Vane's blocking arms.

  His fist slammed into the legionnaire's exposed ribs with a thud.

  [New Skill Gained: Hook (F) - Practiced]

  Vane grunted, his guard dropping slightly as he flinched away from the impact.

  Bending his knees to load his frame with coiled power, Cal unleashed a sudden upward surge, driving a punch in a rising shot between Vane's fists to catch the underside of his jaw.

  [New Skill Gained: Uppercut (F) - Practiced]

  The man's head jolted violently upward as he was lifted slightly off his feet. Staggering as he came down, he caught himself with boots scraping against the ground as he fought to maintain balance, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "Felt that one in my skull! That's what I'm talking about!"

  The rhythmic percussion of sparring across the yard had begun faltering. One by one, the sounds of training drills died out, replaced by a growing quiet. Heads that had not long ago turned for spectacle were now turning in incredulous respect.

  Cal's lungs burned and his arms felt like lead. His supernatural Endurance was flagging, while [Savant of the Body] continued working overtime, helping him learn while simultaneously keeping him in the fight. Each punch Vane threw was a lesson. Each adjustment Cal made was a step closer to mastery.

  Vane spat blood and charged again. But this time, instead of trading punches at mid-range, Vane crashed in so they were chest-to-chest. He smothered Cal's striking range, pinning Cal's arms down by his sides while simultaneously wrapping his own arms around Cal's torso in a crushing restraint.

  "Who needs a hug!" The surrounding legionnaires let out a low round of laughter.

  Cal's elbows were pinned. He couldn't punch. Couldn't create space. Vane's strength squeezed his diaphragm, lifting him into the air.

  A hug? His vision was spotting. More like a hydraulic press with boundary issues!

  Writhing against the mounting pressure, Cal found Vane's hips with his feet to gain leverage. He leaned back, desperately extending his legs until his right arm slipped free from the bind and he could bring the point of his elbow down like a vertical spike onto the bridge of Vane's nose.

  [New Skill Gained: Elbow Strike (F) - Practiced]

  Vane's grip shattered. He dropped Cal, stumbling back as his hands flew to his face.

  Cal hit the ground and surged upward instantly. He reached out, hooking his hands behind Vane's neck and lacing his fingers tight to yank Vane's head down, breaking his posture.

  [New Skill Gained: Clinch (F) - Novice]

  With Vane's spine bowed, Cal rammed his knee hard into the exposed solar plexus.

  [New Skill Gained: Knee Strike (F) - Practiced]

  The air left Vane's lungs. He staggered away, wiping blood from the nose Cal had just rocked. He looked at the crimson smear on his knuckles, then at Cal.

  His grin was frenzied and ecstatic. Relentless.

  Chest heaving, Cal took stock. His knuckles were raw, forearms heavy and throbbing, his side flaring with agony from the earlier body shots. But the fog of exhaustion couldn't dull the razor edge of his focus.

  He was learning faster than his body could keep up with.

  Vane tried to buy space, throwing a wild kick at Cal's thigh to push him back.

  Cal stepped into the kick instead of away from it, his shin colliding with Vane's in a bone-jarring clash that checked the power of the strike.

  [Your proficiency with Unarmed Block (F) has increased to Adept]

  Oh, right—I have legs too! If he was too tired to punch, he could always kick.

  Vane reset his stance, blood still streaming down his face, then came on in a flurry.

  Cal lashed his leg out and thrust the ball of his foot into Vane's gut. The move functioned exactly like bracing a spear against a charging opponent and arrested Vane's advance instantly.

  [New Skill Gained: Front Kick (F) - Practiced]

  Vane tried to circle instead, but Cal gave him no time to recover. A lateral push from his rear leg accompanied a quick twist, driving his lead foot forward to send the hard heel of his boot toward Vane's knee.

  [New Skill Gained: Side Kick (F) - Practiced]

  Vane checked the kick but was forced backward, his stance compromised.

  The follow-up was instantaneous. Pivoting on his front foot, Cal whirled his rear leg around in a horizontal arc. The rotation of his hips turned his shin into a bat, slamming it into Vane's thigh. The impact echoed across the yard with a meaty thwack.

  [New Skill Gained: Roundhouse Kick (F) - Novice]

  Vane hobbled, his grin now a grimace. He wiped more blood from his mouth, gasping in breaths. Cal's vision narrowed to the immediate problem: Vane was hurt but hadn't quit. The man was a walking advertisement for masochism, his "Happy Warrior" nature refusing to let him stay down.

  The soldier planted his good leg and wound up for a massive, desperate haymaker. The punch was telegraphed a mile away, a wild Hail Mary throw that committed his entire body to the motion.

  Cal saw it coming. [Combat Analysis] flagged the trajectory, the timing, and the vulnerable rotation of Vane's hips.

  Vane's fist hurtled toward Cal's head.

  Ducking low under the punch, Cal used the dodge's momentum to spin his entire body in a tight 360-degree arc. He combined principles of force redirection from the previous match, letting his rear leg whip around to hammer the heel of his boot into Vane's exposed ribs with all the rotational power he could generate.

  The result was devastating.

  [New Skill Gained: Spinning Back Kick (F) - Practiced]

  Vane was launched sideways, his boots leaving the ground. He sailed through the air for a brief, absurd moment before crashing into the dirt and rolling twice, sawdust exploding around him in a cloud.

  He lay there wheezing, clutching his ribs.

  And laughing.

  "Break!"

  Sergeant Tanner’s voice cracked across the yard, shattering the stunned silence.

  Cal straightened slowly, his leg still extended from the kick, his breath coming in strained pulls. Around him, the legionaries stared in shock. The mockery was gone and the jeering had died. They watched him with the wary respect reserved for dangerous things.

  Vane stayed prone, still laughing between wheezes. "One session and you—you learned all that. You're a freak, Sov. A beautiful"—he coughed—"freak. Next time, I won't hold back. Promise." He grinned through the blood. "You're going to make me better. I can feel it."

  Cal lowered his leg, his entire body trembling from exertion. He wanted to collapse. Wanted to fall on the earth and never get up.

  Tanner strode across the arena as he came to a stop in front of Cal. His piercing blue eyes catalogued every bruise and scrape, noting each drop of blood that stained his undershirt.

  "Well done, Aspirant," Tanner said quietly. "I would say you lived up to the captain's expectations. I've never seen anything like it."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "You're welcome to stick around or come back anytime. We start with conditioning drills at dawn, followed by hand-to-hand, as you're well aware. Midday, you can join the shield wall and practice formation drills, followed by weapons training that rotates day to day. The spear work I don't think you need, based on your performance in the tournament; however, the days we dedicate to shields and short swords should be something you prioritize. You'd be wise to attend and expand your capabilities. Every warrior needs to be versed in multiple implements of death."

  "Hard to argue with that logic, sir. Broadening my arsenal is the only path to survival," Cal said, rolling his shoulder. "I'll be looking forward to the sword drills, sergeant, but I’m done for today. The healing I received earlier is starting to demand its interest payments. If I don't eat soon, I'm going to face plant on your training ground."

  Tanner gave him a slight smile and nodded, then turned on his heel and walked away, already barking orders at another squad. Cal stood alone in the center of the yard, surrounded by legionaries who gave him a wide berth. Vane finally pushed himself to his feet, still holding his side. He limped over to Cal and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  "You're insane," Vane said. "Good kind of insane. The kind I want to bleed with."

  The adrenaline that had carried Cal through the fight was evaporating, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that made his limbs feel like they were filled with lead.

  "Thanks."

  Vane walked away, still laughing, leaving Cal standing in the dirt. Cal turned towards his piled gear and the exit. His body operated on autopilot, legs moving mechanically one foot in front of the other. The moment the yard was out of sight, a deep cold set in and locked his muscles. Breath came in shallow, stuttering gasps as the hunger evolved into a physical void in his stomach, a ravenous emptiness that made his hands shake.

  His potion and Spinova's healing had cost him, and the sausage hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. The fight had bottomed him out. He needed calories. He needed a steak the size of a dinner plate, and if a slow-moving cow walked by right now Cal wasn't sure he'd bother cooking it.

  Leo. Let's go see how the Hearthsong's new baker is doing.