SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 135: Martial arts (3)

Varik didn’t smile. But the edge of his voice softened half a decibel.

"Stop dragging your feet. Kick through. Drive with the ball."

Lucen muttered, "’Drive with the ball,’ he says. Like I’m built for this."

"You’re built for dying if you don’t."

Lucen swayed slightly in place.

Then reset his stance. Hands up. Right leg back. Elbows in.

Same starting pose they’d been drilling since the sun was higher.

’If I see this position in my sleep I’m suing someone.’

—

This time, Varik stepped in.

Not an attack.

Not a fake.

Just a shift forward to close the distance, gauging Lucen’s tension.

Lucen didn’t flinch. That was new.

Varik moved again, jab to the shoulder.

Lucen twisted, caught it on the outside of his arm, then countered with a lazy hook that barely made it halfway.

Varik raised one brow. "You gonna follow through or was that a suggestion?"

Lucen lowered his fists.

"I was just giving you a preview."

"Of?"

"What I’ll do in six months when I’m not dead after three moves."

Varik didn’t laugh.

He stepped in again.

Lucen actually sidestepped this time, right foot leading, arms up, elbow tucked.

He didn’t throw anything.

Didn’t fall either.

Small win.

Varik tilted his head.

"Better."

Lucen blinked. "Wait, was that a compliment?"

"Observation."

Lucen turned to the mirror on the wall. Stared at himself.

Sweaty. Shirt clinging. Hair wild. A weird combo of exhausted and wired.

He raised one hand.

Practiced that same sidestep.

No spell glyph.

No mana trail.

Just motion.

’Weird. I kind of hate this less now.’

—

Later, they stood on the edge of the mat again.

Varik crossed his arms. "We’ll start mixed drills tomorrow."

Lucen stared at him like he’d just announced a funeral.

"Mixed with what?"

"Real strikes. Controlled counters. Not the pull-punch stuff."

Lucen groaned. "So... more bruises."

"No. Bruises with purpose."

Lucen grabbed the towel off the bench, slung it over his neck, and started slowly limping toward the exit.

"I’m gonna wake up sore in muscles I didn’t know existed."

"You’ll survive."

"Debatable."

Varik followed after a beat. Not close. Just enough that Lucen could hear the footsteps and feel judged.

He glanced back. "Hey. What’s the end goal here anyway?"

Varik shrugged once.

"Hit without getting hit. Live longer."

Lucen looked forward again.

Then muttered under his breath, "’Hit without getting hit,’ he says. Like that’s a real thing."

Varik’s voice floated in behind him.

"It is. Just rare."

Lucen grunted. "Guess I’ll settle for ’punch slightly less like a civilian.’"

—

They reached the locker row near the gym’s edge.

Lucen dropped onto the bench, let his head fall back, and groaned once like he was releasing a cursed spirit.

"Tell me this counts as cardio."

Varik walked past, grabbed two bottles from the cooler, and tossed one at him.

"Counts as survival."

Lucen caught it against his chest. Barely.

"That too."

He cracked the seal, drank, and closed his eyes.

No system pings.

No level ups.

No fancy spell slots.

Just the slow, bitter progress of learning to throw a punch that wouldn’t get you laughed out of a bar fight.

He could live with that.

Sort of.

—

Lucen stepped forward, tried the pivot again.

His foot slipped half an inch.

Varik’s palm caught him in the chest.

Not hard. Just enough.

Lucen stumbled back, hit the mat with a dull thump, air half-knocked out of his lungs.

"I did pivot," he groaned, rubbing his ribs.

Varik stepped closer, calm, hands still loose at his sides. "You pivoted like someone trying not to spill soup."

Lucen stayed down a second longer.

Then muttered, "I don’t even eat soup."

"That explains a lot."

—

They reset.

No gloves. No padding. Just footwraps and bruises. A thick mat that didn’t do nearly enough.

Varik didn’t raise his stance. Just stepped slightly to the left. "We’re shifting now."

Lucen mirrored it.

Tried to, anyway.

Varik’s voice was even. "Weight. Back leg. Feel the balance before you move."

Lucen adjusted again.

"That’s better."

Lucen exhaled. "If I get good enough at this, do I unlock a secret perk or something?"

"No."

"Great. Motivation’s through the roof."

Varik gestured him in. "Again. Pressure step. Low shoulder. Use your hips."

Lucen stepped in, braced with his back foot, faked right, then shifted weight and pushed from the hip like they drilled.

It wasn’t elegant.

But it landed.

His palm hit Varik’s side, not hard, not clean, but enough that Varik’s shoulder dipped.

Lucen blinked.

Varik nodded once. "That’s the idea."

Lucen smiled, slightly. "You mean I didn’t mess it up?"

"You still look like a guy testing out a new body. But yes. Better."

Lucen stepped back. Shook out his hands. Sweat ran down the side of his jaw. His shirt stuck to his ribs like shrinkwrap.

’Still breathing. That’s something.’

—

Varik walked him through rhythm breaking next.

"Most fighters wait," he said. "Two beats. Three. Then commit."

Lucen wiped his forehead. "Like bad music."

"Exactly. Predictable. You don’t break that rhythm, you don’t win."

Lucen circled him. "So how do I break it?"

"Interrupt your own flow. Delay. Advance early. Lure. It’s not about speed. It’s about forcing a response."

Lucen threw a jab.

Varik dodged, quick and subtle.

Lucen jabbed again, slower, paused half-second, and then hit with his left from the blind angle.

Varik’s eyes narrowed.

He caught it mid-air.

Not blocked.

Caught.

Lucen’s shoulder locked.

Varik held it just long enough to make a point.

Then let go. "Good instinct. You paused too long."

Lucen stepped back, shaking his hand. "You’re built different, man."

"I’m built trained."

"Trained in how to paralyze people casually."

Varik didn’t smile.

Lucen did.

—

Later, they shifted to circling drills.

Lucen moved left, then right, never straight.

Varik watched him like a hawk.

"No drifting. You’re not dancing."

Lucen shuffled tighter. "Why do I feel like you were terrifying as a student?"

Varik shrugged. "I listened better than you."

Lucen grunted.

But he circled cleaner.

And when Varik finally stepped in for a test clash, no magic, no cheat tricks, Lucen rolled with it. He took the arm hit, let it pass, and landed a hit to Varik’s ribs.

A soft one. Glancing.

But it landed.

Lucen blinked again.

Varik reset. "Don’t celebrate. Do it again."

Lucen raised his fists. Half-grinning. "Can I pretend I’m a prodigy now?"

"You can pretend anything if you don’t say it out loud."

’Too late.’

He charged again.