Chapter 58: Chapter 58: The Anatomy of a Brawl

Chapter 58: The Anatomy of a Brawl

The Vanguard training hall was stripped of all luxuries. There were no padded mats. There were no safety barriers. The floor was solid, unforgiving concrete.

Instructor Garrick Stonehelm stood in the dead center of the room. He looked at the Top Ten prodigies standing before him.

"Magic is a crutch," Stonehelm growled. His rough voice echoed off the concrete walls.

"You rely on your auras to make you faster and stronger. But what happens when you are drained? What happens when a Cultist grabs you by the throat in the dark? Today, we strip away the magic. Hand to hand combat only. No weapons. No elemental auras."

Stonehelm crossed his massive, scarred arms.

"Pair up. I want to see your bare foundations. I want to see how you bleed."

The students quickly dispersed across the wide hall. Aegon immediately locked eyes with Bram Stoneheart, slapping his fists together in anticipation. Reina grinned fiercely and marched straight toward Nyx Vespera.

Draven rolled his shoulders and stepped into an open clearing.

"Looks like we are up, Mordis."

Lucien Vaelmont walked onto the concrete. He was entirely different from the aristocratic fencer the Academy rumors made him out to be.

He had discarded his uniform jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He had a wild, energetic grin on his face. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, radiating a rash and restless energy.

"I saw you dodge that iron spike in the classroom," Lucien said. He cracked his knuckles loudly. "You have crazy good eyes. Let us see if your hands can keep up."

Draven kept his posture relaxed. He did not take a formal martial arts stance. He just stood there, observing Lucien’s bouncing footwork.

"You are wasting your stamina by hopping around like a rabbit," Draven noted calmly.

Lucien laughed out loud. It was a genuine, booming sound.

"It keeps the blood pumping!" Lucien cheered.

"Begin!" Stonehelm roared across the hall.

Lucien exploded forward. He did not use the refined, linear thrusts of a fencer. He was an absolute brawler at heart. He relied on explosive speed and raw, chaotic power.

He threw a blistering combination of heavy jabs aimed directly at Draven’s face.

SWISH! SWISH!

Draven did not retreat. He stepped inside the guard. He used his military Close Quarters Combat experience. He parried Lucien’s right hook with a sharp slap to the wrist and ducked under the left jab.

"You are swinging too wide on your hooks," Draven said mid-dodge. "You are leaving your ribs completely exposed."

Draven drove a short, precise punch directly into Lucien’s unprotected side.

BAM!

Lucien grunted, but he did not back down. He absorbed the blow with a fierce grin and immediately spun his hips. He launched a heavy, sweeping back kick aimed at Draven’s knees.

"And you are entirely too stiff!" Lucien countered happily.

Draven shifted his weight backward just a fraction of an inch. The heavy kick grazed the fabric of his cargo pants, hitting nothing but empty air.

Before Lucien could plant his foot back on the ground, Draven stepped forward. He hooked his boot behind Lucien’s standing leg and pushed hard against Lucien’s chest.

It was a textbook military sweep.

Lucien hit the concrete hard.

THUD.

But the rash prodigy did not stay down. He used the momentum of his fall to roll backward across his shoulders. He instantly sprang back to his feet, panting lightly, but his eyes were shining with absolute thrill.

"Good recovery," Draven admitted. He kept his hands raised, ready for the next assault.

"You fight like an old veteran, Mordis," Lucien wiped a smudge of dust from his cheek.

"No wasted movements. No flashy garbage. It is purely efficient."

"You are fast," Draven analyzed aloud, mirroring the friendly atmosphere.

"But your attacks carry too much forward momentum. You are committing your entire body weight to every single strike. If you miss, your own inertia betrays you."

"Then I just have to make sure I do not miss!" Lucien laughed.

He charged again. This time, he feinted a high punch and dropped low, attempting to tackle Draven around the waist.

Draven saw the shift in Lucien’s shoulder muscles before the boy even moved.

Draven dropped his center of gravity. He caught Lucien by the shoulders, using the boy’s own aggressive, rushing momentum against him.

Draven pivoted sharply on his heel, pulling Lucien forward and throwing him cleanly over his hip.

Lucien crashed onto his back. Before he could roll away this time, Draven dropped his knee firmly onto Lucien’s chest, pinning him to the concrete. Draven’s hand hovered exactly one inch above Lucien’s throat.

The fight was over.

Lucien laid on the ground, staring up at Draven’s hand. Then, he burst into laughter and slapped the concrete floor in submission.

"Alright, alright! I yield!" Lucien grinned, completely unbothered by the loss. "You got me. That throw was flawless."

Draven stood up and offered his hand. Lucien grabbed it, and Draven pulled him back to his feet.

"Halt!" Instructor Stonehelm’s voice boomed.

Stonehelm walked over to their section of the mat. He carried his heavy clipboard, but his scarred face was highly focused.

"Vaelmont," Stonehelm addressed Lucien first.

"You fight like a wild dog. Your speed is impressive, but it is entirely useless if you cannot control your own brakes. You overextended on every heavy strike. If Mordis had a blade, you would have impaled yourself on it three times."

Lucien rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yes, Instructor. I need to manage my recoil."

Stonehelm turned his cold eyes toward Draven.

"And you, Mordis," Stonehelm critiqued sharply.

"Your spatial awareness is excellent. Your center of gravity control is perfect. But you let him dictate the entire pace of the fight."

Draven stood silently, absorbing the advice of the veteran Hunter.

"You waited for his mistakes instead of forcing them," Stonehelm continued.

"You are fighting a defensive war of attrition. In the wildlands, a monster will not give you a clean opening to exploit. Sometimes, you have to be the one to break the line. Stop waiting for permission to strike."

"Understood, sir," Draven nodded. It was a highly accurate military critique. He had been playing it too safe to maintain his cover.

Stonehelm nodded gruffly and walked away to observe Aegon and Bram.

Lucien bumped his shoulder playfully against Draven’s arm.

"He is tough, but he makes a good point," Lucien smiled warmly.

"I need to fix my balance, and you need to get a little more aggressive. We should spar again tomorrow. I want to try breaking that judo throw of yours." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Sure," Draven smirked, feeling a genuine sense of camaraderie forming in the harsh training hall. "Bring some ice packs tomorrow. You are going to need them."