The Author Reincarnated As An Extra-Chapter 35: • The One Who Learned to Fight (2)

When five minutes had passed, Deremiah was already feeling an unbearable pain in his shoulder, both his left and right, which was the one of his wielding arm.

The pain was more intense on the wielding arm, as his body kept threatening to tilt and fall over. Elora said he was doing this so he could get used to the sword’s weight, but the corrupted blade had never felt heavier.

"You can’t falter," she said to him. "Discipline and persistence moulds one into success. If you start to give up now, what would you ever be able to withstand? To accomplish? Start from now and accept pain as the process to progress. Anything else will lead you down the path of failure and regret."

Deremiah squeezed his face and lifted his head to the sky. ’She has a way with words,’ he mused, trying to make light of the extremely difficult situation.

Somehow this position reminded him of the statue of liberty, except he barely felt free suspended in that gruesome exercise. Each time he glanced at Elora, she seemed to be unbothered by his pain, like this was an intended punishment.

However, he held through. He attempted at times to use Void to strengthen his shoulder and arm muscles, but because he didn’t have much of the energy stored in his reserves, and also because he couldn’t quite control and channel it yet, he was left to work with his normal arm strength.

"How long has it been now?" he asked her.

She looked up at him. "Not ten minutes. Not yet."

Deremiah frowned. "How would you even know?"

She sighed. "You have to learn to follow orders if I am to protect you tomorrow. I don’t know how I ended up sharing a Corridor with a One-Marked but I’ve decided to take responsibility and protect you."

She got up to her feet and began to approach. "You can bring your hands down now."

Letting out a sigh of desperate relief, Deremiah lowered both hands. Naturally, they both felt heavy after such a straining exercise, but it just turned out to be that their weight was exactly the same.

His wielding hand didn’t feel heavier than the other, even with the sword still in his grasp. They both felt equally weighted — balanced.

Elora looked at his grip of the sword and then at his surprised face. "How does it feel?" she asked him.

Deremiah looked at her and then dropped his gaze back to the blade. "You were right. It feels like my arm is longer."

She huffed. When he looked at her face, he was half sure it was amusement he saw. It immediately disappeared afterwards.

"Your arm isn’t longer, Deremiah," she said as she began to create some distance between them. "The sword is slowly becoming part of you now. You’re adjusting to its weight. The more you train and perform that same exercise, the more accustomed you will become with the blade."

She stopped and turned to him. "Let us move to the basic sword moves." She lifted her fingers as she spoke; "For offense, and for defense."

Deremiah nodded, feeling more determined after that exercise. ’Though it is unfortunately horrid and ironic that she’s basically training me to kill her.’

"There are four basic offensive moves," Elora continued. "Slice, thrust, chop and hack. Of course these moves can be adapted into numerous variations, but for an abecedarian like you, best we start with the basics."

She explained that a slice was a sweeping motion with the blade, often used to cut horizontally or diagonally. Using her thorny greatsword, she performed a simple slice, and Deremiah followed.

She then showcased multiple slices, making combos after combos and instructed Deremiah to follow. He obliged, and to her surprise, he was extremely quick in learning. He had a natural quirk for reflexive movement and intense strikes.

It quickly seemed to her that his only problem had been the way he held the sword. Now that he was better at it, his sword fighting skills which appeared innate were now shining through.

She taught him a thrust; the forward motion with the point of the sword, used to pierce an opponent. She taught him a chop; a downward strike with the blade, usually aimed at the head or shoulders.

And to finalize the offensive moves, she taught him a hack; a rough, powerful swing with the blade, often used to break through defenses.

"Ngh! Ngh!" Deremiah groaned as he swung his blade at multiple directions while Elora watched, sitting on a glowing mushroom. She looked up to the sky, checking how much time they had till dawn.

Then, they summarized the offensive training and moved to defense.

"As important as offense is as it accomplishes the goal of combat, defense is also just as important because if you are dead, then the other person is alive. You failed your goal of combat."

She checked for any reaction on his face before continuing. "What I’m saying in earnest is that the goal of combat can not be achieved without defense. There are multiple defensive moves a swordsman can make."

She used her fingers again. "The first is a block, using your sword to shield yourself from your opponent’s. The other one is to avert, that simply entails getting out of the way."

Deremiah frowned. "You said there were multiple but you’ve mentioned only two."

"Yes," Elora agreed. "But the night is ending. I can’t teach you everything in such a short time. Just as much as you need to stand a chance against the beast in case I’m not there to save you."

His eyes darkened. "I see."

After an hour of swordplay, trying to teach Deremiah how to defend, Elora realized that as swift as an attacker he was, Deremiah wasn’t very fast at defending.

He managed to block her attacks a few times, but they were attacks she fully expected him to block. When it came to swift moves and reversals, he was completely helpless.

What was more surprising was that she would see him sense the attack at surprising speed but couldn’t come up with a quick defensive move to escape it. It was almost like he was depending on something else to do the defending for him.

Elora placed her sword into the swordhold on her back and turned to face him. "You’ll need to work on your defence, Deremiah. There appears to be something blocking you from coming up with quick defensive strategies, especially at moments when you need to."

"The Paragon beast or any opponent will not be as forgiving as I was to you tonight."

Deremiah’s eyes lowered in thought. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He had become a bit too dependent on the Writhe, needing it to protect him from attacks.

He’d had to suppress the Technique to avoid it from swirling out when Elora made those attacks. But when he thought about it, if a situation arose when he ran out of Void in his reserves, he would be completely unable to defend himself.

Elora was right. Deremiah needed to train more, even after this.

"Chin up," he heard her say. "You’re still more talented than many novices who I’ve seen pick up a sword. It leaves me wondering if you really are as inexperienced as you claim."

Deremiah looked into her eyes as she looked into his, once again, trying to figure him out. She gave up, looked away and said; "Dawn is coming now. Let us finalize it all with a lesson on how to use Aether to strengthen those strikes I taught you."

’Ah,’ he scratched the back of his head. "Yes. Aether. Of course."

New novel chapters are published on fr(e)ew𝒆bnov(e)l.com