As the Melee Arms class finished, Lenny sprinted out the room. It was the second clash of the week, and though the two-hour sparring sessions only overlapped by thirty minutes, due to its location on a remote edge of the campus, he would struggle to get there less than forty minutes late.
As he sprinted, he started thinking about his previous sparring session. He'd only had one fight, and though it was somewhat useful, he couldn't help but feel that he would have preferred more rounds. He guessed that was a limitation of the eighty plus students who attended all needing to fight. Very few of the matches were over as quickly as his, and some had gone on for quite long, neither person wanting to give in, or able to definitively finish their opponent.
As he passed the Prizm, he spotted the smaller sister building with a dome shaped glass roof by its side. Smaller was misleading, as it was still many times larger than most of the other buildings on campus.
"So they keep beasts in there?" he thought to himself.
Running down a ramp which curved in an 'S' shape, he eventually entered the familiar walkway leading to his Hand-to-Hand Combat class's porta cabin. He opened the door quickly, out of breath, to see the red sash girl called Vee sparring with a yellow sash.
"Good, keep your head moving," said Master Berg, looking at Vee.
"Mix up the strikes," said Apprentice Karelin, looking at Julie, but the instruction was useless, as she kept throwing big shots. Each time, Vee would simply stick a jab and move. "It's not all about power," said Karelin.
Julie had never expected it to take so long to beat a red sash. It had frustrated her greatly, and her pride told her the fight should have been over by now, and would be with the next punch. The problem was, that strike never came. She had used up her strength enhancing spirit essence early, repeatedly throwing out wild hooks or big overhand rights.
Lenny thought that it was somewhat of a repeat of his own fight, with the genders swapped and the ability levels too. It was clear that Julie was getting tired too, and gradually, her opponent was out striking her. One jab at a time, the damage was building up. But finally, she relented, using the last dregs of essence to throw a quick jab.
Vee was dizzy for a moment from the strength of the enhanced blow, and this temporary loss of focus gave Julie all the time she needed to follow up with some wilder strikes. This time, having set up the shots, the hooks found purchase on Vee's chin, knocking her out cold.
As should have been expected, Julie had won the fight, retaining her 194th place in the ranking. What wasn't expected was that her eye was swollen, her nose was bloody, and she had bruises all over her that would stop her from taking another round today, considering their class had no healer to help with recovery.
"Good fight," said Master Berg, before waking his protege with smelling salts. "Straight to the infirmary," he said.
"No," replied Vee. "I want to see the other fights."
"Fine—but go straight after," said Master Berg. "I would like to make a point quite clear before the next match begins. I need four volunteers."
Lenny; Sam, the green sash; and two others came forward.
"I want you to stand there, you here, you there and you… just over there. Right, on the count of three, I want you both to run forward in a straight line. You other two, I want you to run in a wide arc to the same spot. We'll see who wins."
"But Erik, isn't this pointless?" asked Vee. "The one standing at the front and running straight will win every time, unless one of them has a speed ability…?"
"It's good that you can see that. I'm not sure everybody does though." He turned to look at the others: "Ready? One, two, three…!" They all sprinted as quickly as they could, and predictably, of the two standing further forwards, it was the one sprinting in a straight line that got to the end of the room first. "What am I trying to say?" asked Master Berg, looking around the room.
Lenny thought about it. "It's the same as striking."
"Go on," said Erik.
"The two standing closer to the wall, to the target, they're the lead punches. The straight ones a jab, the arc is a hook."
"And the back two?"
"They're the right hand, further away from the opponent. They've got a lot further to travel, so they'd always get beaten to the target compared to a lead punch. It's simple geometry."
"Right, then why do we throw strikes with the backhand? Someone else this time."
Julie answered: "They're more powerful."
"True. Knocking someone out with a jab is not something most of us could do, not without some kind of enhancement. But they set up other strikes. That's what just happened. That's what you should all be doing. Now, I don't want to see anyone leading with a single big strike, charging up. I want you to jab, double it up, mix it up with other shots. And I know what you're gonna say, you haven't taught us a load of strikes yet. Well, next week we'll correct that."
Lenny, noticing the makeshift fighting area was empty, finally walked through the centre and sat down. Karelin looked at him: "Your turn."
*
Three rounds of sparring later, Lenny had beaten all of the red sashes in the room, except for Vee. However, it had not been a smooth process. He was already tired, from the adrenaline of the first fight and then sprinting all the way here. His opponents had taken Master Berg's words on board and there was no more wild haymakers, or if there were, they were set up off the back of another strike or series of punches.
The first was easy; the second was with a red sash, who had a higher speed stat than him, proving tricky. However, he was learning to use his hands and arms well, not just parrying the shots, but blocking also, and when his opponent had landed a strike against his forearm, he screamed out in pain. "Ah, fuck, hardening."
Sam, the green sash in the room, paid close attention to this. He had a hardening ability too, and suddenly began to wonder about Lenny's background. Sam had considered the combination of hand-to-hand combat and hardening to be a powerful one, essentially turning the body into a series of clubs. What no one had realised is Lenny did not have a hardening ability at all, just a single hard limb.
Lenny had used the moment of pain to set up a volley of strikes, and though it hadn't ended the match, it had hurt his opponent further, whose hand was now swelling, making him reluctant to strike with it. And so, gradually, Lenny squeaked out a win. However, it was the final match which had pushed him over the edge. Despite having no ability, his opponent's base stats were impressive. He wasn't particularly technical, but good enough, similar to many of the others. There was a reason he had the number 218 around his neck, one of the highest for a red sash with the exception of Vee.
In the end, Lenny had grown frustrated and used his Adrenaline Rush skill to secure the win. It wasn't that he couldn't beat him, it was that he was used to being able to use a spirit weapon, utilising his essence to increase his speed or damage. Losing to someone without an ability felt like going backwards, and yet, that same thinking in others was something he couldn't stand. Was he any better than those who looked down on him for being an orange sash? It was only a momentary lapse in his principles and now he regretted using the skill. It had made it an unfair fight.
In those last ten seconds, he had struck with a speed and severity that none of the others had seen from him previously, punching the chin several times, till his opponent dropped, landing with their legs at a strange angle beneath them.
The familiar exp notification had come up, for a fourth time today, leaving him at a clean 100 exp.
The others in the room were stunned, silenced, as he had appeared to be losing the fight up until that point, then suddenly, out of nowhere a burst of what seemed like overwhelming aggression, or perhaps some weak overall stat enhancing ability was seen. This confused them, though, as they had thought his ability was hardening.
Sam asked: "What's your ability?"
Lenny laughed. "I don't have one."
However, Berg and Karelin looked at one another. "Rest up boy," said Erik. "You look tired. Next time, I want us to do an exhibition. If you can land a strike on me, like Sam tried to do the other day, I'll give you a pair of old gauntlets I have lying around."
Sam scowled at Lenny, jealous that he had not been made the same offer, then remembering it only came about from criticizing his teaching techniques.
Lenny looked at Master Berg strangely, still not saying anything. He wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to show his full strength. Perhaps the others would put today down as some kind of fluke. Besides, he could always make something if he got a hold of another scavenger tier core.
"They're of the prey rank, by the way," he continued.
"Of course, I'd love to," said Lenny, smiling.
But Berg wasn't an idiot. He suspected Lenny was hiding something, that he'd lied on his form about having no ability, and he knew the best way to flush out the truth was by appealing to his pride, greed or ego. What would he do with that information? He didn't know. He just wanted to know the truth.