Ch.8

Six months later.

In a dark space under the servant quarters resembling more an old cellar than a training room, an old man wearing a neat black cotton suit and white gloves deflected his young master's blows using not one hand, but one finger crooked like a claw.

Every time Erik launched a strike, the butler deflected it at the perfect timing by slightly pressing on whatever body part was sent his way, redirecting the attack elsewhere.

It was expected of a rank 9 pugilist.

That old man had reached the late stage of the Awakening realm, something Erik's past rank 6 couldn't compare to.

Supposedly, Caliber was as strong as those who had killed him in his previous life.

Even if he knew that….

'Wildfather, this is ridiculous!'

He couldn't help but get frustrated.

[Soaring Wrath] operated at full throttle, channeling his anger, pain from the butler's devastating counterattacks, and physical exhaustion, transforming it into wyrd.

'One finger! Is that all I'm worth? And he is using his pinky, not even his index or major!'

Erik interrupted the flurry of blows, took a step back, and sent wyrd to his muscles, activating two warrior arts Caliber had "taught" him.

Six months ago, he was barely able to physically use them, now, however, he could hold for a short while.

[Enhanced Strength]

[Enhanced Speed]

Erik's small but toned muscles shook from the strain, sweat poured out his pale skin, trying to cool down his body.

Right leg backward, left leg forward, body slightly bent to the front, both fists protecting his face, Erik dashed towards his butler. The increase couldn't compare to the two Basara arts, [Rampaging Bear] and [Sprinting Panther] which drastically increase speed and strength, but it wasn't so bad.

These two arts were reserved for those who passed the Trial of the Wild though and since Erik had fled during this trial in his past life, he hadn't had the chance to learn them.

Erik made a quick hook feint Caliber easily spotted, then proceeded with a left jab that was immediately repelled in the opposite direction.

He surfed the momentum and chained his attack with a roundhouse kick. The butler pinky fingered his talon, deviating the blow, and swept the young master's leg, sending Erik biting the dusty stone floor.

The young master clicked his tongue.

Caliber was smiling.

Rising to his feet, Erik used [Warrior's Breath] to recuperate his stamina while formulating a plan.

He knew he would never land a blow before he at least caught up to his past self but his fist was itching for Caliber's chin.

Challenge accepted!

'I have a better grasp on my body's capabilities after five years, so I can probably pull this off.'

Erik wiped the blood off his mouth and channeled [Enhanced Strength] and [Enhanced Speed] again before darting at his target.

'Rushing in head first won't do you any good, brat,' Caliber thought, seeing Erik move in slow motion, not a time distortion, it just looked like it to him. By now, he had memorized the kid's timing and remembered all his moves.

Without looking, when he was about to pinky poke Erik's straight punch, Caliber missed it by a slight margin.

'Am I getting too old?' The butler thought, correcting the trajectory.

Then…, it happened again and again.

Once was a coincidence. Thrice? There was definitely something going on.

His attention that has been divided between the training and the recipe he would try tonight fully focused on the young master.

The butler instantly spotted the anomaly.

'Wyrd feint?'

What was known as wyrd feint wasn't a real feint nor an art, just a technique. The principle behind it was simple in theory but harder to apply in practice.

One would need to abruptly stop the flow of wyrd during an ongoing attack for a fraction of a second then rapidly channel the art again, all that to slow an attack before suddenly increasing its speed.

In short, change the timing of the attack.

Of course, it required a fairly good control over one's wyrd.

However, there was a price to pay for forcefully interrupting the flow of energy, even more at a young age when one hadn't formed their core.

Erik's life circuits seared, temporarily halting his movements. His arms went limp and his legs threatened to give in, yet he maintained himself with sheer willpower.

"Since when did you learn wyrd feint, young master?" Caliber asked, a hint of astonishment on his face.

"Wyrd feint?" Erik faked ignorance.

"What you just did, cutting short your wyrd flow to rapidly change your attack's timing." The butler explained. "The pain you are feeling is the price to pay for it."

"I, I see," he replied, panting. "It…, came naturally. I figured…, cutting the flow of my wyrd…, should change the timing in an unpredictable way… compared to normal feints."

'Genius,' Caliber thought.

He had no other explanations, the boy was either a liar or a genius, and the latter was more plausible. The butler had been observing him since his birth, there was no way someone else taught him wyrd feint.

"Beware, young master, using this technique repeatedly will temporarily paralyze you. If your opponent isn't defeated by the time the recoil hits, I don't have to describe what will happen," the butler said. "Use wyrd feint sparingly, young master."

Erik nodded.

"Let's stop the combat training for today," Caliber said grinning devilishly, "it's time for physical strengthening. Please activate [Soothing Pain] and [Durability]."

Erik's eyes widened. "Wait, I haven't fully re—" The butler's fist collided with his stomach.

BAM!

"The enemy will not give you the luxury of waiting, young master."

BAM!

"Nor will your siblings."

'Damnation!' Erik cursed internally while gritting his teeth and forcing his arm up to defend his head.

The following thirty minutes painfully went by. Caliber held back his strength just enough to cause extreme pain and slight bone fractures.

When he was done, the wounded Erik could not stand on his own.

Caliber carried him back to his room, threw him on his bed like a sack of potato then left for the kitchen without treating his injuries.

'Urg. It might not be today, nor tomorrow,' Erik thought, channeling [Soothing Pain] to heal his aching body, he'd drink a healing potion when able to move. 'But I swear on the dead Wildfather that I'll land a blow on that smug wrinkled face one day!'

Suddenly, the door to his room opened wide, Caliber leisurely walked in.

"By the way, not bad at all today brat," he said without regard to the etiquette, "I've carefully assessed your capabilities these past few months. So we'll be starting the real training tomorrow. You're lacking in various ways to learn the Wolf Style but we'll make do."

'Finally!' Erik thought. He was so injured he couldn't speak anyway. The Wolf style was famous and dreaded amongst the Norsemen, if he could learn even just the basic forms, it'd be of great help for his first trial.

"It was just the warm-up, until now, brat, so prepare yourself and steel your will." Caliber left the room on those words to prepare dinner, nowadays he was carefully preparing meals to better improve Erik's physical growth.

'Challenge accepted, old fart!'

***

Ninth month of training.

"Your [Prowling Steps] is terrible!" Caliber didn't even bother with the etiquette anymore so long as they were alone, sometimes he still used formal speech depending on his desires, however. "Hunch back, brat! Get used to it!"

Erik was running around the large underground room on all four, stones of various sizes were purposely spread over the place, serving as obstacles. Two large stones were attached to his back.

"What's that frown, brat? I'm only pushing you this hard because childhood is the best time to work on your body's flexibility."

True that, but…

"Why are you grinning like that you old fart!? Stop lying, you're clearly enjoying yourself!"

"Kahaha!"

***

Tenth month of training.

Two stones hung on Erik's extended wrists, knees bent perpendicularly to the ground, and a cup of tea rested atop his braided crimson hair that reached shoulder length.

Caliber calmly grabbed the teacup, took a sip, and put it back.

"Alright brat, one more hour. And don't you dare drop my tea or you'll start again."

Erik scowled, he could endure pain, and difficult training exercises but that poltergeist butler's taunt?

He channeled [Soaring Wrath], eating away his bruised ego.

"I'm doing this for your own good brat," Caliber reminded, taking another sip. "It'll strengthen your tights, and arms, and build solid foundations for the Wolf Stance."

"Why…, are you…, repeating this…, over and over again?" The child did his best not to quiver, his voice almost unbalanced him.

"Teaching method. I'm hammering the lessons into your childish mind."

Actually, as shameful as it was, Erik had to admit it worked for him. He remembered every important step, every move, every lesson.

"Oh, I'm out of tea."

And every infuriating taunt.

***

Lore Extract:

"Nurmen is home to many powerful clans, amongst those, the Wolf clan distinguishes itself by its cunning, savagery, and proficiency in unarmed combat. Like beasts, they prowl the battlefields, ripping their enemies' throats apart barehanded. Their teamwork is particularly impressive, probably better than our legions'. They prefer ambushing their opponents, take them by surprise, so beware of the prowling wolves, soldiers."

—Cesar Optimus, Lega of the Celeste Empire, briefing his troops.