For just a heartbeat Eric wondered if Doom Flurry would allow him to do the unthinkable, and cleave through even mithril mail links. Before immediately reigning in that mad impulse, recalling how close he had come to pushing himself too far with Cleaving Blow such a short while ago.

Maybe after a good night’s rest, he would dare that madness. He could only hope it would bea easier with a perk he had already System-fused to his skill. A perk that fit his chosen weapon so very well.

But he’d be a fool to dare such now, he told himself, glaring down at the tightly clenched fist that so wanted to give it a go.

Sam was gazing at Eric with disbelief. “Jeezus effing Christ, how fast do you move, Eric? I… shit, I didn’t even see that blade! But you sent the mannequin flying, and the head cleaved clean off! I didn’t even here it ding against the helmet! Did you actually cut it between the chain mail collar and the helm?”

“Of course he did,” Pavel noted with a smile. “Though he will find that feat to be far harder against an actual live opponent.”

Eric bowed his head. “You are absolutely right… sifu.”

The dark elf’s eyes widened, before he flashed Eric an approving smile. “It will be an honor to instruct someone brimming with such potential.” His smile hardened. “But I will warn you, I will be no gentler upon you than I am with my oldest son. It’s the way I was taught, the way I teach best. Anything less would be… childcare. Capable of teaching a sensitive child the basics in a way that does not cause stress or fear that will be a hindrance as they get older, but that teaches only the basics. To push you beyond your current standing, you must be willing to accept the bitter.”

Eric dipped his head, throat going dry as his heart started to race with what he chose to think of as exhilaration. “I would expect nothing less, sifu.”

The dark elf nodded. “Then, with the understanding that neither of us will deliberately aim for the neck, or a thrust to the face, let’s begin.”

Sam paled. “Wait, wait, wait! You guys are actually going to spar with live steel? I mean… fuck… Qi-infused mithril blades? Isn’t that, like, against all the rules of safety you, Morlekai, grandfather, and everyone else taught me, Eric?”

Eric shared a smile with Pavel, who was even now circling Eric with his blade held in a two-handed overhead grip, in perfect position to deliver devastating overhand cuts, oddly reminiscent of German Longsword, while Eric favored a high, hanging guard, point aimed for his opponent’s center line, the blade held to the right side of his head, tip angling down and toward his opponent’s center, perfectly guarding own line, and in ideal position to parry any overhand blow and deliver devastating ripostes in turn. Assuming, of course, that he trusted the strength of his wrists against his opponent’s power blows.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Eric said to his friend. “So watch and learn, but sure as fuck don’t do this yourself. Mkay?”

Then, after exchanging nods with a man who, with a single twist of allegiance could so easily flip roles from trainer to killer, Pavel immediately darted forward and lashed out with a devastating flurry of blows, faster than a mortal eye could see. Each and every one of them radiated such power that Eric just knew they could cut through steel.

If Eric had had any doubts before, the dance they embraced as Eric struggled against the furious onslaught made it painfully clear that his friends back in Freetown would have had no hope of surviving even a minute against the cultivator now forcing Eric to challenge himself like never before, struggling just parrying blows that would rupture even his scale armor like it was nothing.

A grimly hanging-on Eric already knew that he was hopelessly outclassed, at least when it came to channeling his Spiritual Energy to enhance his fighting style and boost his blows.

All he could do was rely on his hard-won skills to maneuver past deadly thrusts and counter wickedly fast cuts, his saving grace being that his Quickness, Perception, and Finesse were now all in the 50s or higher, synergizing so well together that time itself seemed to slow ever so slightly as his observations and reactions raced at superhuman speed, pushing what he could accomplish with his skills to the absolute limits while winding and binding his blade around his foe’s.

It was the vital edge he needed while struggling to force Pavel’s weapon off-line just enough to blast the tip of his blade into hip or shoulder, or dart back whenever his sifu went weak in the bind before abruptly twisting and wrenching free before striking with a deadly lunge, only to give his younger opponent the strangest look when Eric just managed to lurch back before Pavel’s blade could kiss his flesh.

Find Weakness skill check made!

You sense the flow of Spiritual Energy through your opponent!

Yet as ragged as his would-be mentor ran him, Eric forced into a steady circular retreat, he found himself reveling in the contest, pitting his skills and sense of timing against such a fearsome opponent, one who Eric could already tell was Scar’s superior in all the ways that counted, putting him through his paces without even once making use of any Qi attacks like Scar’s devastating Wind Blade.

Time enough for Eric to begin to sense the pace and flow of his Sifu’s technique.

He couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at his lips when it all clicked, and he began to understand his mentor’s mastery of his weapon and their battle to the extent that he was pushing Eric further and further off balance, one tiny nudge at a time, preparing himself for the moment he knew Eric would shift his balance to spring back, ready to spring like a coiled leapard spotting his prey… now!

Pavel’s grin of triumph melted off his face, eyes widening with surprise when Eric’s seeming stumble turned to a mad lunge before locking blades with his too skilled mentor and using every ounce of his Strength to catch Pavel completely off guard for the single moment Eric needed to twist their swords high while slamming out with a powerful open-handed shove with all his terrified strength, heart hammering for the reprimanding blow he knew was coming after committing himself so utterly to seizing the Vor.

“Eric, what the hell?”

Sam’s words washed over a stunned Eric, almost as surprised that his stunt had worked as he was seeing at seeing his sifu cartwheel through the air, though the ragdoll collapse Eric had feared turned to a skillful shoulder roll a heartbeat before Pavel sprang back to his feet.

The look of fiery heat he saw in the dark elf’s eyes made Eric’s blood run ice cold… before the cultivator froze, shook his head, and bowed low before Eric.

“Well done, disciple,” he said with a darkly bemused smile. “Crude, explosive power unleashed in the moment I thought I had you at your weakest. Sloppy in how vulnerable it makes you, should I be able to predict your actions. But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s me who was sent flying back, not you.”

Sam blinked looking oddly betrayed. “But, shit, you’re conceding? All Eric did was shove you!”

Pavel gazed at Sam for long moments.

The boy paled and lowered his head. “I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, sifu.”

Pavel chuckled softly at that. “The shove was a proxy for what that blow could have been. I saw the remains of Scar’s overweening arrogance, crushed by strength he had no hope of comprehending. And I, unlike my former commander, am wise enough to concede a match I’ve clearly lost.”

Eric couldn’t help beaming at that, his grin only faltering when he met Pavel’s quiet smile.

“Shall we continue our lesson?”

Eric groaned inwardly, but forced himself to nod, eager to learn whatever he could, and as much as a part of him dreaded it and another petty, prideful part hated being humbled and put in his place, most of him happily slipped into a roll he remembered all too well.

That of eager student learning at the feet of a true master of his weapon. A man who would frequently put Eric in his place and make to wince for all his mistakes, but Eric would blossom as a warrior all the more for those harsh lessons, to the point that he could play a swashbuckling saberman on the big screen without being an embarrassment to anyone with any sort of background in HEMA or any other school of fencing.

In fact, Eric found himself relishing Pavel’s increasingly harsh lessons as one day bled into the next, their stamina reserves and near superhuman focus allowing them to condense countless training sessions in the span of a week, with an hour of meditation or cultivation between each session, Eric doing his absolute best to learn all the lessons his dark elf mentor now seemed determined to teach him.

And even if Sam couldn’t go half a day without looking at Eric with an odd mixture of awe, brotherly affection, and borderline jealousy before their mentor coolly instructed Sam to get back to cultivating, effortlessly correcting all the flawed assumptions and techniques he and Eric had both incorporated… Eric’s day was absolutely made, every time sifu him gave a grudging nod of approval.

“Truly, the boons you say you earned risking your life claiming prizes, glory, and saving a city from Orsinian depredation have served you incredibly well,” the Dark Elf eventually conceded, his dark calculating eyes peering intently into Eric’s own. “Enough for you to master the bind and counter nearly all my strikes, no matter the flow of Qi enhancing my own attributes.”

Eric swallowed, truly humbled by the praise, wondering if that meant they were finally ready.

Ready or the real lessons to begin.

He had tried to be patient, understanding without a word being said that Pavel had needed to pressure test and assure himself of Eric’s foundation. But a certain prize out there was all but calling his name, and he was more than eager to claim that which the entire galaxy sometimes seemed eager to forever keep from his grip.

Even now he felt the pressure to act before it was too late, and he lost the chance forever.

“This one thanks you for your praise, sifu.” He flashed an excited grin. “Does that mean it’s time?”

This earned a dark chuckle. “It’s never time to dare what you are contemplating. But with a foundation as strong as yours appears to be, a foundation oddly attuned to the one element that could save you… perhaps we will be able to shave countless months we would otherwise be using to prepare you for the ordeal to come.” Pavel gaze hardened. “But you are not ready yet, Eric. Not by far.”

Eric’s jaw clenched, the ebullition of moments before turning to hot tension once more. “But we don’t have months. You said it yourself. With a certain Sect feeling increasingly impatient to collect Divine tier spirit fruit, time is the one thing we don’t have in abundance. It’s a miracle they gave us even a week! No doubt thinking their own pawns need that time to ready their traps and their own cultivation bases. Bust still, we’d be a fool not to prepare for their arrival at any moment. When the time comes, must be ready to act!”

The Dark elf gave an angry shake of his head. “Which is why I think you’re a fool not to take the advice I’ve given you every night this past week! We grab fruit that will not be missed, and we leave. Your speed is incredible, and I am a cripple no longer. If we are lucky...”

The man’s words died off, lowering his gaze before Eric’s glare.

“Master Pavel, can you honestly say that your Bronze tier former master won’t instantly put two and two together and strike you dead out of spite, whether or not I can manage to flee whatever the hell is waiting for us on the other side of that gate?”

“But you might live. Your charge as well.”

Eric sighed. “But what about you?”

Pavel shook his head. “Eric, you haven’t even learned the most crucial lesson you need before you dare take a stand here. Lessons you begged me to instill so deeply within your soul that they become second nature.”

Eric blinked, his mind just a bit tired as their third day training at an absolutely absurd pace finally drew to a close, both to them supping on the boar stakes Sam was good enough to prepare with absolute abandon. “And what lesson would that be, again?”

Pavel laughed. “Why, learning how to counter my Wind Blade, of course!” His smile hardened as Eric’s cheeks flushed.

Of course. It was his entire reason for healing Pavel and using him as a trainer in the first place. Before his natural inclination to form bonds with and genuinely care about the people he lived and worked with transformed mercenary intentions to genuine concern for the well-being of the man before him.

Not that he hadn’t felt a connection from the moment Pavel cried out his wife’s name as death came for him, but now Eric couldn’t even pretend to himself that he had mercenary intentions at all. Because he was a softy in a world filled with ruthless cutthroat power-mad assholes, and his only defense seemed to be reveling in a ruthless frenzy that would make him sick with shame, did he ever dare to slow his pace.

So he didn’t slow down. Not ever. Certainly not enough for regret or late night brooding to take over of his thoughts. Instead, he pressed ever onward with every ounce of his being, savoring steady growth and skill increases and the chance of fresh titles with everything from fire wands to blood magic to learning the rudiments of cultivation, and most effectively, how to wield his killing instruments with a maestro’s grace. Forever pushing back memories of savagery he could revel in so easily when his adrenaline was pounding through his blood…so long as he didn’t think too deeply about the faces of all the people he had already killed. Because for him, the only stillness he could endure was meditation through cultivation, when his mind was blank of any thought of all, save for the sensation of white-gold spiritual energy flowing through his spiritual veins.

Of course Eric knew Pavel had always been holding back. He was just glad that the man finally seemed ready to begin the true lessons now. Eric flashed a fierce smile, holding nothing back. “Does this mean you’ll finally be teaching me what it means to fight as a cultivator?”

This earned a quiet chuckle. “So asks the youth who I only struck twice on the first day with blows that were more than glancing, and only once today. Yesterday I didn’t touch you at all, and today, it was only your own eagerness to send me flying across the room, again, that left you vulnerable to my stop-thrust.” He flashed a hard smile. “A lesson you will remember for quite some time, I think.”

Eric nodded in rueful agreement, rubbing ribs Pavel had cracked with a blow so hard it had put his overconfident ass back on the defensive, where it belonged, now certain that he’d never be able to sweep Pavel’s deadly piece from the board with a single surprise blitz attack again. This was an opponent who would require every ounce of his ability and absolute focus to best in any sort of fair duel.

Pavel was a deadly warrior, to be sure. One he’d never best a second time with a single foolish strike.

Pavel’s grin widened, as if reading Eric’s mind. “You have done surprisingly well, disciple. So much so that I fear that only by making use of my clan’s deadliest White tier techniques I will have a fair shot of being worthy of the rank of sifu.”

Eric’s eyes widened as he sensed the razor sharp extension of swirling Wind Qi adding three plus feet of deadly cutting force to Pavel’s blade.

“And let’s be honest, Eric,” the cultivator said, face now hard and cold as he slowly approached. “If you would actually dare to stick around, if you continue to refuse my entreaties to flee, it is warriors just as well versed in these techniques as I that you will be forced to face. And if you cannot best me with my own favored techniques, they will surely kill you in the blink of an eye.”

Eric swallowed and stepped back, stomach tightening as he readied himself for what was to come. He knew Pavel’s earlier self-deprecation had been bullshit, now more certain than ever that he had been the quiet ace Scar’s father had insisted upon deploying in order to keep his son safe as much as for any other reason. Yet Scar had been such a complete fool as to treat his best soldier, the man who might have kept him alive, as nothing more than a hired lackey. And it was by fortunes dice alone that Scar and not Pavel had been the one to face Eric in hand-to-hand combat.

Had it been otherwise, Eric was now quite sure it would have been his spirit infusing these lands in the next life, Scar and his companions laughing off a foolish hybrid cultivator’s daring, Pavel perhaps the only one to feel a lick of regret at being oathbound to serve and kill for a callous master, even if only for the length of a single mission.

Yet now, thanks to fortune’s odd twists and mercies granted, Eric had the opportunity to grow in ways unexpected and profound.

But his mentor was right.

Even if he had no hope of accessing any technique safely with only his primary meridian channels open, needing at least rank 20 as a cultivator with peripheral channels at least incorporating his arms and extending all the way down to his fingertips, he could still learn how to recognize and counter Wind Blade, or any other Qi attack.

And it looked like Pavel was now dead set on beginning his instruction in countering the arts that had nearly killed him, just a handful of days ago.

He could only hope that the lessons would be enough to survive the trials to come.