Chapter 27: Principles Of Combat

Alicarde had no idea what Argint had in mind, but her promise to "try not to kill him" brought back a vivid memory of her claws crushing his throat. The sensation of choking on his own blood still lingered in his mind, making him swallow uneasily.

His eyes flicked down to her outfit, pausing at her bare midriff before quickly returning to her amber eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked cautiously, his voice tinged with unease.

Argint's smile turned sweet, a stark contrast to the warning signals his instincts were sending. His heart thumped a bit faster despite himself—she almost looked cute, but something in him screamed to flee.

"I'm here to train you, duh. Or did you forget your promise?" she said, her happy smile belying the mischief in her eyes.

Alicarde smirked, though his gaze drifted down to her cleavage. "Ohhhh, my promise. So, do I really have to keep that? Training with you sounds like a hassle—and dangerous," he quipped, unable to resist admiring her figure.

Argint's smile vanished, replaced by a frown as she noticed his not-so-subtle gaze. "My face is up here, you bastard. Stop staring at my bust. You wanna die?" she growled, her teeth gritted in irritation.

Alicarde looked away, a bit flustered but managing to maintain his composure. He blamed his slip-up on Carrisa's alluring body. If he hadn't seen her earlier, he wouldn't be acting like a degenerate right now.

"What... what are you talking about? And besides, I can't die, remember? Kind of comes with the territory of being immortal," he retorted, trying to steer the conversation away from his blunder.

Argint's smile returned, though it was more predatory than before.

"Good, that means I don't have to hold back," she said, cracking her knuckles menacingly. Without another word, she grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

Alicarde couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. Her outfit was undeniably risqué, and despite himself, he stole another glance. Argint's striking appearance was hard to ignore. Her long, flowing red hair cascaded down her back, and her unique amber eyes gave her a wild, captivating look. He had a sinking feeling she was going to pummel him for leering.

'Should have kept my eyes on her face, but there was nowhere else to look, damn it,' he thought to himself, his gaze once again drifting over her.

She wore a form-fitting gray crop top that highlighted her athletic build, and yes, her bust, which the fabric clung to like a second skin.

'Well, I am a dude, so... oh God, help me,' he prayed, feeling her grip on his hand tighten as they walked. He noticed something else that almost made him snicker—her outfit included a black harness with various small pouches and a dagger strapped across her chest. Her arms were wrapped in bandages, giving her a slightly rugged, battle-ready appearance that struck him as a bit edgy.

'And she calls me an eighth-grader. Is she sealing some evil dragon with those bandages?' Alicarde thought inwardly, amused by the thought.

She accessorized with black fingerless gloves.

'Probably for her claws. It would be pointless to wear any other type of gloves when her fingers can elongate into killer wolf claws,' he observed. She was really beautiful—he hadn't had the time to appreciate her looks before, but now he did.

As they reached the ground floor hall, he noticed it was already getting dark. Normally, he trained with Carrisa outside on the mansion grounds, not in the underground training room. Apparently, Carrisa preferred the fresh air. When they arrived, he found Carrisa waiting there.

'Are these two conniving against me? No weapon raised against me shall prosper,' Alicarde thought, growing increasingly wary. Was this Carrisa's revenge for him seeing her naked?

He noticed Carrisa looking at him, and suddenly, the image of her without clothes flashed in his mind. He quickly put on his best poker face, not wanting to be caught off guard.

Carrisa was as stunning as always. Her black hair and captivating violet eyes were complemented by a sophisticated outfit. She wore a form-fitting beige top with intricate black lace details and sheer sleeves adorned with floral patterns.

The top was paired with a high-waisted black skirt that had a stylish slit, revealing elegant black lace stockings. Gold earrings completed her ensemble, making his heart beat faster, though he was too cool to let his poker face slip.

Alicarde was just a college freshman, and at his age, boys were particularly susceptible to the charms of beautiful women, especially those older than them. In a sense, he was living with three beautiful big sisters, including the doll-like Amena.

Carrisa smiled knowingly. He was putting on a poker face, desperately trying to avoid looking at her. He was good at it—she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't spent so much time with him.

'Now then, shall I tease him a bit?' she mused to herself.

"Alicarde, what do you think of my appearance this evening? I feel as though my attire might be... inadequate. But what are your thoughts?" she asked, gesturing toward her collar with a touch of playfulness.

Alicarde smiled, scratching his chin thoughtfully, as if appraising a masterpiece with professional indifference.

"Well... if I had to say, you look good regardless of what you wear... but I don't really care. You do you," he replied with a polite tone, laced with a hint of forced indifference.

Argint looked at him with a deadpan expression. "Keep your eyes off her cleavage, genius. You aren't fooling anybody," she said dryly.

Alicarde looked at her, still maintaining his poker face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. And besides, weren't we going to train or something? Hurry it up, I'm starting to get hungry," he shot back, his tone slightly aggressive.

Argint didn't care about his attitude, she simply pulled him away. Carrisa trailed behind them with a smile on her face.

"He is truly amusing," she murmured to herself.

They made their way outside, and soon he was standing face-to-face with Argint. Her presence had shifted, and he noticed a flash of silver in her amber eyes. His body instinctively went into a combat-ready state.

Carrisa and all his recent battles had honed his instincts—especially with Carrisa, who never held back during training and always used a real sword. If he left an opening, she would drive her blade straight into his heart.

This rigorous training had accelerated his skill development, as Carrisa always simulated real battles, constantly exploiting his weaknesses.

Argint observed his stance and smiled. "Good, it seems the princess has taught you a thing or two. I'm glad she didn't coddle you."

Carrisa, who had seated herself in a pavilion to the side, returned the smile.

"Indeed, I did not. That would not serve him well. And Argint, you may call me Carrisa. I shall permit it."

Argint nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to Alicarde, her expression serious.

"Alicarde, can you recount the principles of combat that the princess taught you?"

Alicarde nodded, recalling what Carrisa had drilled into him.

"Sure, but you can call me Ali. That was sort of my original name, and I don't want people forgetting it," he added, with a hint of pride in his voice.

Argint raised an eyebrow but nodded. Alicarde smiled, then continued.

"Swordsmanship has a few fundamentals, but the core principles are maai, which is about understanding and controlling the distance between yourself and your opponent. There's also sen, which is about timing—knowing when to attack, defend, or counter. Then there's strength, precision, and more importantly, flow. A swordsman must be fluid, able to adapt. A failed swordsman is one who cannot adapt in body and mind, hence the need for focus and awareness."

Argint listened attentively as he explained, noting that he had a solid grasp of the principles of swordplay. The princess had taught him well, and he was clearly adaptive.

"No wonder he managed to survive so long against me despite his lackluster skills," Argint mused.

Carrisa, who was sitting in the pavilion not far away, smiled as Amena joined her, dressed in her usual maid outfit.

Argint finally spoke, raising a finger to her chin. "The principles of combat are similar, regardless of the weapon. Minor differences aside, the basics form the foundation for all techniques."

Alicarde couldn't resist teasing her. "Why do you sound like some wise old geezer?" he asked with a smirk.

It seemed like a good idea at first, but perhaps he shouldn't have, because she was glaring daggers at him. Her look was one of pure menace, promising retribution.

"Oh, Ali, you sweet thing. I was going to half-kill you before, but now, after your bold statement, even your immortality won't save you," Argint said, her voice melodic yet her words as harsh as winter.

Her tone shifted to seriousness as she continued, "For hand-to-hand combat, the principles share some similarities with swordsmanship, but they also differ. The key aspects are balance, timing, distance, breathing, and awareness. You must embody these principles, with control and adaptability being crucial."

She took a battle stance, her eyes locking onto him with a cold focus. "I shall now teach you the basic movements... oh, and by the way, my clan believes that before you learn to beat up someone, you must first learn to take a beating yourself."

Her smile deepened.

"I was originally just going to rough you up a bit, but you just had to provoke me. Now I'll really enjoy this. Let's throw hands—or rather, catch these hands."

Alicarde paled as he saw her fingers turn to claws, as white fur grew on her arms.

"Hands? What hands? You mean claws? Wait... wait..." Alicarde tried to stop her with words.

She never gave him time to finish as a silver hurricane of brutality covered him. She must have been angrier than she let on because she used mana—and lots of it.