19 Combat

Sturm was prepared to be antagonized and mentally prepared himself for confrontation. One of the older child slaves approached him. The child was already 155 centimeters tall and probably passed the combat test just recently.

Although most young slaves tried to enter the ranks of combat slaves, the opportunity was only given once a year. Apart from needing at least some talent to pass the combat test, most were simply too malnourished and weak to exert themselves physically in a fight. Just surviving the daily torture of the quarry already took everything out of them.

The consequence was that most children only managed to pass the test when they were around 12, as their bodies had gotten more used to their hardships, and they were taller and stronger. Sturm was not just the merchant's assistant but also skipped the combat test all other slaves had to work hard for to pass.

Following that logic, Sturm was sure the older child slaves would not welcome him. The tall slave stood in front of him and lifted his arm.

*Pat, pat*

There was no need to dodge as the muscle movement of the slave showed no sign of a strike. Sturm's analysis turned out accurate as he was just patted on the shoulder.

"We thought we had it hard, but we heard about you getting tortured by the merchant's guard on top of having to work with extra weights in the quarry. You gave us the courage to take on the combat test over the last three years, and many of us passed because of that. Thank you."

The other slaves in the room nodded and approached Sturm as well. They started asking him about his training, the merchant, and his daily life.

<<This is an opportunity.>>

The not so true tales of his constant suffering thus began. The reason he gave for being here was that Edgar was grooming his own personal gladiator. Constant training and the inscription into the fighting pit were the first steps towards that goal. Sturm also made up a condition that Edgar supposedly gave him. If he ever lost a fight, he would get executed.

More and more slaves looked at him with pity and assured him they would hold back when fighting against him. They were a head taller and two years older on average, after all. Few understood the importance of technique in a fight, and most thought that reach and strength meant everything. It was not surprising as all the older combat slaves had never received any instruction on how to fight.

It was common that the biggest, strongest combat slave would win, so why would they think Sturm was any different? They saw his body was healthier and that he had slightly better-developed muscles, but that could not close the distance of a two-year difference in their age.

Talking made the time pass faster, and soon, the first child slaves were called into the pit. Most fights only lasted around two minutes, as the children gassed out quickly and simply had no strength to fight on after a few exchanges.

Most of them returned with bloody eyes and bite marks all over their bodies. Some were excited that they won since the first fights would determine their future ranking. Others were dragged into the room while unconscious, with broken arms, missing ears, or bawling like the little children they were. This loss would be detrimental for their future if they wanted to fight in the town and eventually reach the position of gladiator.

"Number 1753 and Number 20… I mean Sturm, you are next. Step into the pit."

One of the biggest children in the room stood up and almost ran towards the pit. He could not believe his luck. Sturm had already told them he was ten, and fighting a ten-year-old meant he would have an easy first win. That would give him an advantage as he would advance without many injuries. Maybe he could ask to fight again and get a head start over all the other new combat slaves.

As an experienced fighter, Sturm took it slower and calmly walked towards the pit. Wasting energy before a fight, no matter how minuscule, could alter the result. While he was sure that there was no way he would lose even if he fought one of the adult combat slaves, Sturm knew he had to maintain a professional mindset and not get overconfident.

*Step*

Sturm entered the pit and looked at the sand, the stands, and into the air.

So this will be my new ring for now.

*Step*

<<This feeling. I missed it. Sparring will never compare to a fight with something on the line.>>

*Steps*

He arrived in front of his opponent. The gate they had used to enter the pit had already been closed. There was no way to get out except surrendering or winning the fight. Sturm could feel his blood rush through his veins and took deep breaths to calm down.

"Match 13 starts now! Fight until you bleed, haha!"

The voice belonged to one of the guards in charge of announcing the fights and their results. Seeing that one of the children was a head taller than the other one made him excited. Who did not like a bloody show?

<<I will go a little bit easier on him.>>

Even though the tall kid was not one of the slaves who promised Sturm to hold back, he still decided to do so in order to not offend the others. In truth, thanks to his more mature physique, he was guaranteed to pass the combat test, so the motivation Sturm had given to some of the others had not influenced him at all.

Sturm was not someone to underestimate the opponent and analyzed his adversary. With his guard up, not a single minuscule movement of the tall child slave could escape his eyes. The first punch flew towards him.

What is that swing? I have seen kindergarteners throw better punches.

A single step back was more than enough to dodge the wide swing. The fist only hit broad air, and Sturm's opponent already lost his balance. The tall child wanted to finish it with a single hit and felt both annoyed and embarrassed. More and more swings came in, and if the child were fighting the air, he would probably be winning. He had completely lost his calm and forgot about trying to go easy on Sturm.

<<Keeping my guard up is wasted energy. I was too cautious—time to end this.>>

This was literally a child's play for Sturm. Right now, he could already dodge ninety percent of Reinhardt's attacks, and the shadows of earth's best professionals slowly could not keep up with him anymore either. Even the best combat slave on Dagger's Rock Island would not even be able to graze him.

The tall junior combat slave was slowly getting tired, and only his fury kept him going. He put his whole strength in one last swing, but Sturm easily grasped the timing.

Sturm used the ball of his right foot to propel himself ahead and generate force. The force traveled up his legs, and a forward lean added additional weight behind his momentum. He stepped in with his left foot, and the second it landed on the ground, his hip and torso rotated. That allowed the generated force to travel across the core muscles, through his upper body, and towards the shoulders.

The right shoulder moved inwards while the triceps added speed to the extending arm. Shoulder, arm, and fist were relaxed until a millisecond before impact. All of the generated force was transferred into the opponent, and Sturm's fist drilled into the child's stomach. Not a single movement was wasted, exaggerated or inefficient.

The culmination of Earth's science resulted in a perfect kinetic chain, which let Sturm deliver a flawless punch. No robot could do it better. No program would be able to exceed this execution in a simulation.

All this took time to describe but happened in less than a second. The audience had no time to react, and Sturm was already over a meter away with an awkward look on his face.

<<Damn. Did Reinhardt rub off on me? I was too motivated and forgot to hold back.>>

The whole pit was silent, shook. There were no elite guards present at the moment, but even the common guards understood the immense skill displayed. They immediately thought of Edgar's new guard captain that supposedly was training Sturm, and planned to visit him to request a few lessons. Most of the slaves, on the other hand, could not understand what they had seen and simply did not have time to process what had happened.

*BLURGH*

The tall child slave clutched his stomach and fell onto his knees, violently vomiting onto the pit. Finally, the silence was broken when everyone erupted into loud cheers. The other young future combat slaves felt that Sturm looked incredibly cool, standing completely relaxed and without a scratch next to the defeated opponent. Almost all of them wanted to be him at that moment, while a selected few dreaded having to fight him.

"The winner is… Sturm. Escort them out. We don't have all day. Next are 1634 and 1221."

A few slaves dragged the vomit-covered child out of the pit. Sturm walked out himself and bathed in the applause and cheers he was receiving. It reminded him of his past professional MMA career, and for the first time, he truly felt like it had been worth coming to this world.