[Deus Terra] Chapter 22: Tips from the strongest. (Patreon)

For one of the knight’s private training grounds, the place is particularly… austere? Humble? Empty?

It’s just a very spacious room in the basement with a dirt floor. There are racks with all kinds of metal training weapons along the stone walls and even wooden training dummies and aiming targets.

This is where one of the castle’s servants led Arthur when he arrived at the castle the day after he drank with Marina. He’ll thank any god responsible that he woke up with a very, very minimal hangover. A weird, secret cocktail prepared by Anthony took care of it in only an hour. On the other hand, while the ointment he got from Marina prevented his face from swelling terribly, it still stings. For such a beautiful girl, Marina has heavy hands.

So for now he stands close to one of the walls, awkwardly waiting for the person who invited him here, Sir Samuel. There’s no one else in the training room, and he has to wonder why that is. Do knights not train? Or are they strong enough that they don’t need more training? Both sound incredibly unlikely. Maybe it’s just too early in the morning?

The door to the room opens, and he sees the young vice-general entering. He’s wearing his full set of armor again and his yellow cape. The way he carries himself seems to ooze strength and dignity.

“Arthur. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” He says once he notices him.

Arthur clears his throat once to clear his mind. Just seeing him walk makes him aware of just how big the difference between them is, but right now he needs to focus. He doesn’t know what Sir Samuel is planning by inviting him here, but he’ll try to learn anything and everything he can.

“It’s no issue. But… is this okay? For you to invite me here to help me with the tournament?”

Sir Samuel chuckles. “It’s not only okay, but necessary.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not the only one inviting someone to the tournament. Everyone wants their own protégé to win and become a knight for their own reasons. For that, they’ll help them however they can. Some participants have received training directly from knight captains. Compared to that, meeting with you once before the tournament is not nearly enough.”

“How many people are participating in the tournament?” Arthur asks.

“This year we have 14 participants. Four of them were invited by nobles, including you.”

“Only 14?”

“Surprising? We barely have over 500 knights in the kingdom. Compare that to the regular soldiers and guards who number close to 8.000 across the country.”

“There’s that big of a difference?”

“Able combatants is something this country needs. Even with Zaphiel Wall keeping most monsters away from our territory, a lot of them simply… spawn here.” Sir Samuel grimaces. “As such, the country is willing to train and pay volunteers.”

And people are willing to volunteer. After all, becoming a regular soldier is a good way to earn yourself a very decent, secure pay. It’s dangerous, but it’s no wonder many prefer it to living in the streets.

“However, you need to be aware of something, Arthur.” Sir Samuel says, looking directly at him. “A full-fledged knight here is as about as strong as 10 regular soldiers, and that’s the average. Those of captain rank easily surpass that. We have few participants because only the best are selected to enter the tournament. The most talented sons and daughters of nobles with powerful lineage will be there, along with those handpicked by recognized, proven knights.”

Arthur’s body tenses and he audibly swallows at those words.

“I see you understand.” Sir Samuel gives him a pleased smile. “You won’t find easy opponents here. From these 14 participants, only the winner will earn the right to become a knight-trainee.”

“That’s the official rank, then?” Arthur asks.

“Yes.” Sir Samuel smiles. “That’s what I meant by full-fledged knights before. You’ll have to prove your worth to the country before you’re officially recognized as a knight.”

“That makes sense.” Arthur nods as he rests his hands on his waist. “So only after that can one aim to become a captain?” And thus, a noble?

“Correct. But as you can imagine, the rank of captain is not given to just anyone.” Sir Samuel nods. “But that’s not what we’re here for. Like I said, there’s not much I can do for you at this point. At most, I can give you some general advice. That’s why I’d like us to have a sparring match.”

“…Excuse me?” Arthur raises an eyebrow, believing he didn’t quite heard what the vice-general of the Radiant Knights, Strongest Man in the Kingdom, Sir Samuel Alba, The Knight of the Sun just said.

“I want to measure the extent of your abilities and see what I can advise you on from there. It’s not difficult to tell at a glance that you’re a very competent fighter, but I need a little more than that.” He chuckles casually.

As the words start settling in, Arthur’s body begins to tremble. Surprised at himself, he looks at his hand to confirm it. He swallows.

“Don’t worry and come at me with the intent to harm me.” Sir Samuel assures with a confident smile. “Think of it like this. If you manage to even put a scratch on me, it means your chances to win are already incredibly high and your reputation will skyrocket.”

“Yeah…” Of course, Arthur doesn’t think that’s going to happen. For three years he sparred with his mother, and even then he had a hard time landing hits. How will he fare against the strongest man in the kingdom?

Sir Samuel walks to one of the weapon racks and picks up a training longsword. It doesn’t have an edge and has a round tip.

“Pick a weapon from the rack or use your own. You’re allowed to use your own weapons during the tournament or pick from a prepared assortment.”

“Is that so?” Arthur ponders on it, but decides to use his own sword. It’s what he’s comfortable with at this point. It feels good in his hand and is heavy enough that makes his attacks even more dangerous.

They take positions in the middle of the room, five steps away from each other. Arthur takes deep breaths, reminding himself that this is just sparring. But even so, seeing Sir Samuel across from him is… intimidating. Even just standing there, he has an overwhelming presence.

“Feel free to attack me. For now, I will only defend. Show me what you’re capable of, Arthur.”

‘Defend?’

His posture contradicts his words. He’s holding his sword at his side, he hasn’t taken a stance or even looks prepared. Arthur is aware of the difference between the two, but is it enough to be dismissed so blatantly?

He clicks his tongue and the grip on his sword tightens. When he realizes he’s gritting his teeth, he wonders for a second why such a thing irritates him so much. But those thoughts are left aside for the moment. Arthur runs prana through his body, feeling his muscles strengthening, his abilities increasing.

Yet he doesn’t feel anything coming from Sir Samuel.

That does it. In a fast and reckless charge, Arthur runs to the knight and brings his sword upon him with all his strength. Even when agitated, his body remembers the motions. Practiced, efficient swings that come naturally to him.

But his attack is easily parried and his sword slides down Sir Samuel’s blade, as if following a predetermined course. Arthur is left completely open with the tip of his sword pointing at the ground. A counter attack would definitely come now, but the Vice-General simply gives Arthur a push, sending him back three steps.

A sudden cold feeling washes over Arthur’s body. With wide eyes, he looks at the knight before him in the same, relaxed stance as before, yet now… he sees no openings. How and when did he move his sword? How did he parry such a heavy strike?

He takes his stance again, holding his sword in front of himself. Arthur thrusts the sword into Sir Samuel’s chest, but his attack is parried again. With short, almost casual motions, Sir Samuel bats the sword aside and away from its intended course, leaving him with an outstretched arm and ready to be stabbed, slashed, punched, kicked or even blown up.

A single second feels like an eternity. How many times would this man have been able to kill him in that time? But instead, he’s pushed him back again. He sees Samuel nodding to himself, his expression neutral.

The realization comes immediately. He thought he understood the difference between them, but the truth is they’re so far apart that Arthur can’t even understand it. His moves, his presence, his concentration. Everything is on a level he didn’t even know existed.

A smirk starts forming on his lips. His heart starts racing and his body starts heating up. He starts shaking again.

This is the height of power and skill. This man really is the strongest in the country. Is there even a single person in the world that can come close? This is the time to test everything he knows. Everything he’s capable of.

‘Pay attention, Arthur. Keep your eyes on him. If you can come to understand a speck of his skill, then you’ll definitely become stronger!’

Arthur rushes again, this time with quicker, shorter swings. He puts his weight into his right foot and swings down, but the attack is parried. He pulls back, swinging the sword across his body as he retreats, but the attack is parried. A quick thrust, a faint, but Sir Samuel doesn’t react. He saw through it.

Every single one of his attacks is parried or blocked, and Sir Samuel has yet to move a step from his starting position. Arthur tries to move around him, but his eyes are on him like those of a predator on its prey. He simply pivots on his dominant foot and follows his movements with ease.

There’s nothing he can do to take him by surprise. He sees through his faints, and he doesn’t know any [Martial Arts] to throw into the mix. But… No, there is one thing. What he did back at the Noble Woods. An [Arcane Art]. A blast of prana that was strong enough to tear a big chunk of a thick tree.

Arthur pulls back for a moment and starts gathering energy on his left hand. Sir Samuel only raises an eyebrow in curiosity, but he’ll take it. Arthur lunges with his left hand stretched and heavily loaded with magical energy.

“Blast-!” The word makes it all click again. His mind, body and soul understand his intent. A blast of prana powerful enough to knock his opponent away!

But the atmosphere around him shifts with Sir Samuel’s expression. He furrows his brow, grabs Arthur’s wrist and points it down and outside. The blast of energy is released, lifting a cloud of dust from the dirt floor that covers both of them. Arthur feels the firm grip of Sir Samuel’s hand still on his wrist, and he only lets go when his body starts to relax and he stops the flow of prana.

He steps back from the vice-general, doubting himself. In the end, he couldn’t understand anything about his technique. That’s how big the difference is between them.

Sir Samuel lets out a heavy breath and looks at him with an amused smile.

“What was that at the end? It wasn’t an [Arcane Art] you normally see. It’s so… rough, too.” He chuckles.

“It’s… something I came up with on my way to the city.” Arthur admits, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly feeling sheepish. “It’s my second time trying it.”

“You don’t say? Mmm.” Sir Samuel ponders in silence with the back of his index finger below his lip. “Well, let me tell you my impression. To start, you have good form.” He begins. “Anyone with experience could tell your attacks speak of years of practice. Your style is forceful and unrefined, but I’d say you’re on par with nobles who’ve been trained as squires from a young age.”

‘Is that… praise? Are squires strong or weak?’

“But your sword skills alone won’t take you to victory. I see your style has been influenced by the power of your soul. It is indeed a great asset to have, but as you can see, enough skill can negate all that power when used in such a direct approach.”

Arthur flinches.

“I really doubt you’ll meet someone able to parry your strikes in the tournament, but be sure to keep it in mind for the future. Be creative and never stop thinking.”

“Y-yes!” Arthur nods.

“I noticed you didn’t use any Martial Arts. Why’s that?”

“I… don’t know any.” Arthur admits with a grimace. “My mother never taught me.”

“Is that so?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “No, it would make sense.” He nods to himself and crosses his arms. “No wonder you Arcane Art feels so rough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think of it like this. Between a very powerful and fast sword strike and the art you just performed, what’s stronger?”

“…The art?”

“That’s right.” He nods. “Generally speaking, Arcane Arts are stronger than Martial Arts because they allow for effects that go far beyond the human body. However, someone with formal training would learn to use Martial Arts before Arcane Arts since they’re better at teaching you how to control, hold and release prana. Not to mention they’re still useful in their own right, are easier to use and less of a burden on your soul.”

“Then… I’m at a disadvantage in the tournament?”

“Yes.” Sir Samuel nods bluntly. “Your opponents will be capable of attacks and movement that you may not be able to follow. Instant back steps or step ins, high jumps, faster strikes. The power granted to you by your strong Prana Flow may compensate for things, but you can’t just erase the disparity in tools at your disposal.”

Then… what to do? How can he win? What tools does Arthur have to take the advantage? His swordplay may be equal to others in the tournament, so… his Arcane Art (now officially named [Blast]) and generally stronger physical abilities are all he can rely on?

“You’re thinking. That’s good.” Sir Samuel approves. “I was planning on testing your defense now, but I think we can do something better.”

“Eh? … Like what?”

Sir Samuel gives him an easy smile. “I’m going to teach you a Martial Art.”