“I have to say—” The balding older man ughed, smag his one fist into the palm of his other hand — wearing gloves on both, leather fingerless gaus with ptes of metal on the back for prote, “—I’ve never sparred with a Champion before!” He grinned, “I look forward to testing my skill against one such as you.”fused Peter looked to his would-be ‘oppo’ — the older man was, as Peter noted earlier, balding… save for a stripe of hair going around the back ear-to-ear. He also had an impressive ‘old-time’ mustache and muttonchops. He wore a pair of big leather boots and some kind of uniform pants as they had buttoned patches on the side where Peter would expect pockets. He was shirtless, which showed off his impressive muscles — it was obvious he took a healthy amount of pride in them. Even though Peter was in much better shape than he ever used to be he found himself, somehow, being self-scious of his appearance.Running his hands over his tunic Peter was uo not think about how he still had a bit of a belly, regardless of the muscle he had now. He did not look it unless he flexed, but he was quite defihe older man, who was at this moment flexing and warming up, was sculpted like a body-builder and not one of those overly-muscled ohat made someone looking at them go ‘but, why?’ either. Peter also had a feeling that he did not just look the part; that he had the endurance of a strongman on top of the definition of a body-builder. “Allow me to introduce myself!” The soft baritone void pleasant tone brought Peter back to the present, “I am Master Chief Shieldbearer Etgerr Heimardt and I am to be your sparring partner.” “Apparently.” Peter nodded, “I hope that being called over so suddenly didn’t mess up your training.” He apologized, catg the older man by surprise, gng at him as he did some torso twists to stretch his core, “I’m Peter Karl, by the way. o meet you, sir.” “Ha.” He ughed, “You call me ‘sir’. I appreciate the respect, but I work for a living.”That made Peter snicker, “I see some ses cross universes.” “Mh?”Peter waved off his ent casually, “Just somethiain ranks of soldiers from my old world would say as well.” “Ah, I see, I see.” He nodded, stretg his arms above his head.Peter did the same, popping his shoulders as he did, then did his own twists, crag his babsp; “So, you’re from a military family?” He asked. “I don’t know if I’d say that. My father was, but he was a clerk, and his father was both infantry and in the naval forces. He saw bat, I think, but he alked about it much.” He shrugged. “I see, I see. You followed in their footsteps?”Peter frowned, “I’m no batant, Chief.” He admitted softly. “Rubbish.” The older man scoffed, “Why else would you have been summoned?” “That whole ‘Champion’ thing again.” Peter frowned, “I’m no ‘champion’, Chief.” “For that little girl’s sake, you best be mistaken.” He said bluntly.Taken aback by that eer stiffened, so surprised by it that he nearly failed in dodging the punch Heimardt u him. “Woah!” Peter yelped, taking a quick half-step back, and leaning back further as Heimardt jabbed at him a sed time, “Is that a threat?”Taking up a boxing stahe older man gave a proud harrumph, “O’s the simple truth. Two: I don’t make threats.” He fired off two more puhis time in a owo bo with both of them instead of just the one fist which was likely testier’s rea times and speeds. “Hey, Chief, art of ‘I’m no batant’ didn’t transte?” Peter grumbled, the retort short and sharp. “Now is not the time for humility.” Heimardt shot back, aiming for Peter’s sides with heavy fists; oer was able to block by bringing down his arm but the other smmed into his ribs, making him cough and groan. “I’m not… being humble.” Peter frowned, rubbing his side as Heimardt gave him a moment to recover. “Of course you are.” He insisted, fists rocketing out again and this time both nding. While Heimardt’s tone was not accusatory it was the insistent nature of his words that bothered Peter. “I’m really not, Chief.” Peter repeated, his own insistence mounting, getting another ‘harrumph’ from his supposed ‘sparring partner’. “I ’t believe that.” Heimardt delivered two more hammer-heavy blows to Peter, making the younger man groan and cough, “What good is a Champion that doesn’t know how to fight?”Peter growled, getting more annoyed. He had to be careful, not wanting to lose his temper and look like a child, an idiot, or lose a potential ally or friend. So… he did his best to throunch; recalling all he could from the various TV shows and online videos he used to watch, the research he looked into for writing fight ses iories he tried to write — uck the thumb uhe fingers (a good way to break it), keep the knuckles ft for a striking surface, pnt the feet, rotate the hips, bring all that energy up through the body, keeping the shoulder and elbow aligned and, most importantly, follow through. There was a solid thump and Heimardt let out the air in his lungs with a cough. “Not bad.” He grinned, crag his knuckles, and shifting his stanbsp; “Lucky hit.” Peter corrected, pulling his fist back quickly to dodge Heimardt’s punch, feeling the air wash in front of his fad tousle the front bangs that had not been pulled bato his ponytail. “I told you. Now is not the time for humility.” He growled, pressing the attad stepping forward, with Peter stepping bad retreating. “I’m not being humble, damn it!” Peter gasped as he ducked under a wide-swinging punch to slip around behind Heimardt. “Hah! Good attempt. Getting behind your oppoo attack. But I’m too quick!” He grinned and, ging things up, shed out a heavy boot at the younger man. “Ngh!” Peter blocked the leg with his forearm and hand, shoving it away to recover.

  Heimardt pressed the attack, ung awo punches and then a side kick at Peter who, doing his best, blocked the punches by spping them away but the kick caught him off-guard. Air left his lungs in a single gasp, his side ached from the impact. He rubbed at his ribs, cheg them. God…dess… am I gd I’m so sturdy.He half-expected Na’at to chime in with a ‘thank you’ but she remained silent — there in the back of his mind, but silent. It bothered him slightly, but he also figured she was trying to keep from distrag him… which he was doing a fiime himself having such a prolonged inner monologue in the middle of a fight (sparring match or not). “… Ow?” Peter blinked as he y on his back, staring up at the Aetyerosan sky before his vision was filled by the mustachioed face of Heimardt looking down disapprovingly at him. “Hmph.” He harrumphed again, gripping at Peter’s tunid vest, hauling the younger man to his feet, pnting him on the ground, “You hold bay at, Champion.” “I’m not a champion! Like… I get that’s a title but I’m just me okay?” “Bah.” Heimardt waved his hand, “You were summoned, so that makes you a Champion.” He said simply. “That almost sounds like an expnation.” Peter said, “So it is a title… of those summoned like I was.” “Mhm. And Champions are all warriors, fighters, and the like.” He unched atack of lightning-quick punches. “Sorry to disappoint.” Peter snarked, “But title or not, I’m no fighter.” “Of course you are!” He pressed, “Why else would you be summoned?” “Because d’Zaier needed a disposable body?”Another harrumph, “I’d not let the Shepherd hear you say that, d.” He charged Peter, ing his arms around the other man’s waist and heaving him off his feet. “Woahcrap!!” Peter gasped as he tried to find some purchase but as Heimardt was shirtless there was little to grab.There was a d a pop, aer groaned as he impacted the ground again, “Ughohhh…” He shifted to his side to rub his babsp; “I hope I have your attention now.” His oppo said, reag down to grab at him agaier gripped at Heimardt’s wrist with both of his hands, hooking his foot behind the other’s ankle, and twisted on the ground, tripping. “Ouup!” was followed by a solid thud.“You had my attention the whole time, Chief. You aren’t the one listening though!” Peter let go of him, scrambling to his feet.Slowly Heimardt got to his, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers, “Then why aren’t you taking this seriously?” “Like I told you, I am… I’m just not a fighter! I never was!” Peter grumbled. “Well. That’s disappointing.” He said pinly, “Especially for the young—” “Don’t you dare threaten her.” Peter snapped and charged the older man, ing his arms around Heimardt’s waist now and heaving him off his boot soles. “Woah woah!” He cmored, grabbing at Peter’s tunic but kept being lifted as Peter leaned back.Peter did not, actually, suplex him though it was a hing; he leaned back a far ways but ultimately just heaved the taller muscled man over him and back about three feet — an impressive feat he-less for an untrained fighter. “I told yo—” Peter started before he was tackled by the other man, who was ughing. “There we go!” He seemed self-assured, “I told you, don’t hold bay at!”Peter just growled in frustration, digging his feet into the ground and leaving furrows as Heimardt plowed forward, before bringing his elbows down oher’s in an attempt to break free of the grip and sort of succeeding. “I’m. Not. A Fighter!” Peter growled loudly in his ear as he pushed Heimardt away, throwing a punch at him. He hated this feeling — not being listeo, being pushed into something.He agreed to this, he agreed to help Ennalyssa, but he was not a fighter, he did not know how! “I don’t know how to fight!” He, in exasperation, near-shouted.Heimardt looked at him, mustache bristling as he barked an annoyed sound, “Then what good are you to that young dy you swore to protect?” “I thought I was going to learn how, not be tossed into a fight without even knowing how to throroper punch!” “Disappointing.” The older man harrumphed softly, “I ’t believe that a Champio even know how to throunch.” He rubbed at his jaw, “Did your father not care enough about you to teach you to defend yourself?” “You watouth.” Peter glowered. “Being angry without knowing how to el it is pointless.”Peter felt his lip curl, “I didn’t o fight to survive, alright? Any bullying I had as a kid was verbal. I didn’t get into fights at school because I followed the rules. I was taught to walk away, not give jerks like that the time of day.” “Pft.” Heimardt scoffed, “Then he did you a disservice. You should at least know how to defend—!”

  Peter khat he was right — attag in anger when not knowing how to fight properly was a dumb thing to do but right now he simply did not care. Twice the other man had talked down about his father.He, holy, did not know why sieically he had no father, any memories were from the person he was ‘clipped’ from. His logical brain was telling him that he had no reason to feel this anger; it was not like the Chief had bad-mouthed Na’at, his mother (and only parent), teically. But his heart pounded and his brain ighat logical argument and he swung at Heimardt again and again with the soldier either dodging or spping the punches away as they danced around in a circle. No more words were spokeher as they traded punches: Peter’s angered, wild swings versus Heimardt’s more trolled, skilled, and, most importantly, calm punches.

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