The two took the elevator down to the hotel's sub-basement level two.
Mercenaries in groups of twos and threes gathered near the corridor leading to the training grounds, chatting idly. At a short table in the corner sat two Church spies, pretending to engage in casual drink and conversation while their eyes stealthily surveyed the surroundings.
"That Lord Achilles has just come out of the elevator," one of the spies said in a low voice, pretending to sip his drink.
"He's still alive? That's quite curious," the other spy shook his head slightly, puzzled why Aske did not seek Church protection, "That high school girl with him... She's suspiciously too pretty."
"What's so suspicious? Her height doesn't match up," the drinking spy chuckled, "A vampire's illusion technique can't change body size."
"Maybe she's a newly turned blood servant of that vampire, purposely approaching to seduce him," the other spy said coldly, "Now if we follow them, we might be able to follow the vine to find the big fish."
"Do you think the Church hasn't thought of that?" his companion scoffed, "This useless Lord is, after all, a noble, not to mention his decadent lifestyle. Do you think you'd benefit from encountering him playing around with women in private? To be blunt, if he's lured and assassinated by a vampire, that's his own problem; but if we are discovered following him and he causes a stir in the Noble Council, how would the Church save face? In the end, you and I would be the scapegoats."
"True," the spy sighed, "our goal is just to find that vampire. Let him be. Since he won't stay safe inside the church and insists on wandering about, if he dies, that's his own fault, not ours."
The two spies continued drinking. Meanwhile, Aske, as if unaware of anything, approached the counter with Peggy and handed over a bill, "Which close combat training grounds are available?"
"Number 3," the lady at the counter replied.
Upon arriving at training ground number 3, they found a massive space roughly the size of four basketball courts side by side. On one side were steel-cast dummies lined up for warriors to practice their attacks; on the other side was a series of chain-ringed battle arenas of various sizes for mercenaries to engage in sparring matches.
"Put on your mask," Aske said to Peggy, "We'll start in the battle arena to warm up, and I'll see what level you're at now."
Peggy responded with a nod and put on a sad-faced drama mask, pulling out the short sword strapped to her thigh.
Aske chose the largest battle arena, the kind typically used for 5v5 team battles. A few of the surrounding mercenaries looked over with curiosity in their eyes. Stepping onto the field, Aske drew his longsword and casually flicked it to form a sword blossom.
"Attack me," he beckoned to Peggy, "Use your full strength, don't worry about whether I can handle it."
Peggy nodded, her body slightly tensed, then she pushed off the ground with her back foot and charged with such speed that she seemingly vanished from her original spot in an instant.
"So fast!" A nearby mercenary who happened to glance their way suddenly exclaimed, his own hands pausing in their movements without him realizing.
In an instant, Peggy's figure neared Aske, but the next second, she was flung away, her speed too fast for anyone to see how Aske counterattacked. Peggy landed, rolled awkwardly for a few times, and struggled to her feet, her movements distorted by the intense pain.
"Can you even handle such fast charging speeds?" Aske, sword in hand, stared coolly at Peggy, "Don't aim too high. Start with the speed you can control."
Peggy nodded and charged at him again. This time she performed a curved charge, taking a short diagonal angle to loop behind him, and with her short sword did a straight stab towards Aske's back.
With a clang of metal on metal, Aske deftly blocked the attack with his longsword as if he had eyes on his back. Peggy swirled the blade for another strike, which was again deflected easily by the longsword. Aske gracefully twisted his wrist and flung Peggy's short sword away, then landed a whip kick to her abdomen, sending her flying once more.
"The key to agile close combat lies in escaping far after a missed strike," Aske said coldly, "If your attack is blocked and you stay in place, are you waiting for the enemy to counterstrike? Pay attention to your landing when you fall; landing on your back is the most foolish act. Land on your front! Use your arms to brace and bend to cushion the fall, then quickly roll to your feet or you'll risk being vulnerable to enemy pursuit and injury."
"I understand," Peggy said in a low voice, picking up the short sword from the ground and assuming a fighting stance before charging again.
The sound of steel clashing filled the air, interspersed with Aske's relentless criticisms:
"Vary your attacks between feints and real strikes! Every blocked strike consumes your stamina, use your brain!"
"Where's the variation in your footwork? If an enemy sees through your stepping pattern, you're finished! Don't always try to loop behind!"
"Be mindful of my field of vision! Think about attacking from my blind spots, not just circling around! You're on the outer ring, and I'm at the center, can you really out-turn me?"
More and more mercenaries gathered to watch, stunned. Peggy's speed was significantly faster than a normal person sprinting at full force, using her agility to constantly change positions in attack. Aske, however, stood in place unmoving, defending with just his longsword, impenetrably blocking and able to send Peggy flying within a few moves. She hit the ground countless times, each time bouncing back up with vigor as if her energy was limitless.
These two are both monsters! The watching mercenaries exclaimed in amazement. The small figure wearing the sad-faced mask was already impressive, her high-speed maneuvers on the battlefield provided an almost unparalleled advantage. An average mercenary would be dizzy after just a few encounters with her, and those slow to react wouldn't even be able to defend themselves. With such speed, she was overturned by her opponent in just a few moves—who on earth was this warrior? No thought was needed; he was clearly beyond their realm.
After taking another hard fall, Peggy pushed herself up with her hands, rolled, and stood firmly. Flesh I had greatly enhanced her body's tolerance to pain, and at that moment, she was merely breathing instinctively, feeling as if not a single bone in her body wasn't aching.
"Let's stop there," Aske said indifferently, holding his longsword, "Think over what I've taught you, and organize it."
Peggy gave a nod and went to sit silently in contemplation on a stone bench by the wall.
Aske sheathed his sword and was about to leave the Battle Arena when a hand was raised amidst the crowd of spectators:
"Hello! If you don't have an opponent, would it be convenient for me to practice with you?"
A fully armed warrior pushed through the crowd; her voice suggested she was a young woman. She wore the Stamped Steel Plate Armor commonly seen on Jiamani Samurai, topped with a Gothic Double-Winged Helmet + Face Mask, and below were a Plate Armor skirt and steel long boots. In her left hand, she held a kite-shaped striped shield, and in her right, a Long Spear. Such equipment was heavy, not something an ordinary person could withstand for long; this woman must have absorbed a certain amount of Extraordinary Power.
"A Walking Knight?" Aske asked.
"Why not a Gun-shield Warrior?" the woman retorted.
"The grip on the Long Spear is wrong," Aske said.
The woman paused, then realized her mistake. Knights, due to the momentum of their charges, are accustomed to holding the end of the Long Spear. Had she been a traditional Battle Arena Gun-shield Warrior, she would grip the spear near the middle for balance in both offense and defense.
"Impressive," the woman complimented subtly, adjusting her grip to the middle of the Long Spear's shaft, "I don't have Power Armor, so you can treat me as a Gun-shield Warrior, how about that?"
"Quick fight, quick decision," Aske said.
The crowd of mercenaries immediately began to buzz with excitement, eager to witness the outcome of the battle. The woman took a stance with legs apart, shield in front, and spear retracted, poised and taut like a drawn bow, ready to unleash a deadly charge at any moment. Aske, on the other hand, rested his hand on his sword, his face expressionless as he watched her.
"Draw your sword?" the woman asked.
"No need," Aske said, "It'll end in one move."
A cheer erupted from the crowd; mercenaries are always energized by such arrogant talk. The woman's expression was hidden behind the Face Mask, and it was unclear whether she was angered. She simply twisted her wrist, adjusting for an all-out burst.
In an instant, the spear thrust forward like a Dragon, its sharp point aiming straight for Aske's chest. The woman's advancing step was not firm—she believed that if Aske failed to dodge in time, she could quickly withdraw her power and halt the attack to prevent a fatal injury. But Aske simply stepped to the left with an understated motion.
He had dodged!
As he stepped past her Long Spear thrust, Aske moved forward half a step again, grabbed the Long Spear with his right hand, and his left fist hammered down at her spear-wielding hand. The woman didn't dodge; her right arm was covered in Arm Armor, unafraid of Aske's bare-knuckled strike. To let go of the Long Spear then would have played into his tactic.
Just as the fist descended, it turned into a grasp, yanking her right wrist backward. Aske's right foot kicked hard at her right knee. The woman only felt a great force on her Plate Armor, her right leg kicked backward, her upper body pulled forward by him, and she lost her balance entirely, crashing to the ground.
"Hasn't anyone taught you not to posture before striking?" Aske asked coldly, "Such a pretty pose, even a fool would know you were about to charge. How could they not dodge? Your tactical movements are standard enough, but being standard means you're easy to read. Think hard about how to conceal your attack intentions."
The woman struggled to her feet, the protective Armor that had been her shield now weighing her down. Defeated by one move in the duel, she was initially quite dejected and disheartened. But the last comment sparked her interest, and she quickly nodded in acknowledgment: "Yes, I've learned my lesson, sir."
The crowd was abuzz again. Duels typically happened among comrades, as strangers might not hold back and injure each other. It was rare enough that such an expert on the stage would accept a duel with a stranger, even rarer to defeat the opponent cleanly and then offer advice on their weaknesses—what did this signify?
It meant a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn from a master teacher! In these days before the rise of the Magic Tide, any martial artist with a modicum of skill would either serve a King or Emperor at various Courts or be kept by Lords in their manors as part of their retinue. Become a mercenary? Unthinkable! How much could mercenaries earn compared to just a fraction of what the Nobles offered?
At once, several hands shot up from the crowd, everyone eagerly vying for a chance to spar: "Master, let me go next, let me have a go with you!"
Under the surge of enthusiasm, Aske randomly picked a Macedonian Gun-shield Warrior. Holding a gun spear and shield, the warrior respectfully bowed to Aske, and then swiftly took his fighting stance.
"Your footwork is too light, haven't you practiced your steps during training?" In less than five seconds, the Macedonian warrior was knocked out of the arena.
"Your attack motion is too big, leaving you open!" The next Spartan Warrior to come up was also thrown to the ground.
"What's all this jumping around, are you a clown?" A Burgundy Ranger was beaten into rolling on the ground.
Soon, all the mercenaries who had come up were beaten one by one, with figures tumbling around the grounds, causing even those outside the arena to feel a chill. Receiving precious Martial Arts guidance was one thing; being beaten to a pulp for all to see was quite another. The difficult choice between pride and gain was indeed a tough one. After about ten seconds with no one stepping forward, the woman from the beginning stood up again.
"I would like to ask for your guidance once more," she said, bowing slightly in respect.
"Come on," Aske said.