"You've got to be kidding me, you're just gonna swing right after saying that?!" Alban was caught between a rock and a hard place, not really sure which was which. There was almost no distinction between Nimral's hard fists and the solid ground. Ducking and weaving, at times his body was so close to the terrain he could smell the dirt beneath his feet. Speedily balling up and rolling forward, his attempts to dodge the meaty fists were getting more and more unorthodox.
"How are you gonna get strong by dodging, boy?!" To tell the truth Nimral was a bit impressed that the boy was so agile, Alban's stature being anything but small. His delicate looking face housed teeth that could crack open a turtle shell without difficulty, so being so fleet-footed was a bit of a mystery.
It was a mystery to Alban, too. He hadn't had to seriously exert himself against an assailant since the very beginning of his hunts. It was an invigorating feeling though, the new and unnatural flexibility in his changed body taking up most of his attention. The savage aura that usually emanated from his body was running up and through his blood, staying firmly in Alban's body. A shocked expression revealed itself on Nimral's face!
"Im-impossible...the aura control method!" Alban's attention was caught by the Nimral's words, his tone giving voice to an aghast expression. He was pondering on what a "aura control" method was, before a sharp pain smacked into his face. The world was revolving in his point of view, before the rapidly shifting marvel of a sight settled onto the cold, hard, ground.
"Lesson one, boy. Never lose your focus in a battle. Oh, and don't believe anything your opponent says. The aura control would be only be impossible if the aura wasn't even yours. I mean come on? Aura isn't common, but it sure isn't 'impossible'". Nimral's back was hunched over as tears streamed down his face and all into his mouth. His smile was so wide that Alban could feel the laughs from his current position. A whole 2 meters away!
Alban pushed himself up, leaving a face shaped indent on the ground. Although he wouldn't be aware of it at the time, the mark he had left upon the world due to his not so graceful pummeling would become a legend in the future. Today was the day that the mysterious sculptor was born!
Wiping the blood running down from his forehead, he tasted a rich iron...the taste flooding his mouth. He spat it out quickly, and turned back to his opponent, realizing he had been going at the fight all wrong. He was a hunter, and what kind of hunter would simply dodge and run away from the prey without so much as a plan? His eyes darted around for anything that could even remotely help solve the situation, though he found nothing.
Of course, the reason why he couldn't was quite apparent to anyone that had the faculties of sight or hearing. A burly grey man was rapidly approaching him, Nimral's shoulder protruding forth. Alban had no time to think, and sidestepped the body that sped towards him faster than a bullet.
He decided he wouldn't end his dodging there, preemptively taking multiple steps backward just in case. This was revealed to be the right decision, as Nimral's spry frame caught the ground, his heel pushing down on the ground and rotating.
Alban soon found himself at the mercy of an old man who could freely switch directions when set upon a trajectory...he needed to try a different approach. Darting towards Nimral, he kept his eyes focused on the man's feet during his charge. Alban punched out, swinging his arms ferociously. He wasn't aiming his fists at all, his attempt purely concentrated on catching just one movement.
A right, a left, a straight and a hook. There was no sense of flow to Alban's attacks, though that in itself was pretty unique. Unlike normal biological creatures that had lungs, he didn't have to focus on his breathing at all! Out of breath? No problem, air didn't actually form his power...it merely supplemented it. Need a wind up? His crystallized lungs drew in air at a rate much faster than even the healthiest lungs in his previous world. One who avoided all smoke, carcinogens, anything harmful to their breathing sacks. It certainly was questionable if Alban was even human.
Nimral silently took note of this, his face not changing a bit while dodging the youth's attacks. Inside, however, he was actually astonished. It was nothing like the fake surprise he had used earlier to fake Alban out, but genuine acknowledgment of the feat the boy was carrying. Of course, not a single one of his brute, unrefined punches could even come close to harming Nimral, but he was excited at the prospect of Alban's future growth. He was picturing a martial god, perfectly connecting thousands of techniques without even needing to take a breath. Now, his blood was starting to boil too.
Nimral stepped back and twirled on his axis, the method of which being through his heel as before. Alban did not miss a single millisecond of the movements, quickly withdrawing his punches and sloppily replicating it, trying to engrave the maneuver into his muscle memory. His feet pressed hard against the ground before Alban's body rapidly approached Nimral's right side!
Nimral was impressed. Not blown away, but he could tell that Alban had the potential to inspire that feeling in the near future. The sloppy copy of his graceful motions would look rather stupid to the untrained eye, but it was amazing enough that Alban could do it after seeing it once or twice. He had noticed that the boy's eyes were focused somewhere other than wherever his fists landed, but he didn't expect the focus to be on his feet.
Pouncing towards Nimral, Alban's eyes became firm and resolute. He knew he was outmatched, he was so outclassed that he might as well be an ant at a picnic. But he set all that aside, leaving his doubts behind him. Right now, he was the hunter. Nimral was prey, even if the prey was strong enough to floor him with a single strike. He at least wanted to punch that old man's grizzly face, damnit!
And yet, although his all was focused into a single point, condensed all into the arc of his fist extending from himself as fast as a cheetah, the punch didn't land. Perhaps it was predictable, no he had expected this. Instead, a crunching sound squelched against his abdomen.
Falling back from the impact of the old nimm's meaty fist, the pain hurt like hell. It was the second worst sensation he had ever felt, the first being the agony of his heart and lungs crystallizing. Still, the wild aura in his body did not stop, the blood coursing through his veins circulating faster and faster. He could fight some more...if he fought Nimral more he could improve further. Before he could pounce towards Nimral again, a shrill voice resounded in his ears like a chiming bell.
"DAD? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO ALBAN??"