"The essence of combat is destruction,"
Andreas was currently teaching me the underlying principles of his combat style, and to say I was surprised was an understatement. In the three years that I've spent in this world, I had come to the conclusion that the essence and motivation behind every movement in my combat style was survival. Kill the enemy so you can live, distract the enemy so you can escape, that was how I had fought and it had worked. Yet Andreas was telling me that my method of combat was wrong, or at least not perfect.
"and to achieve that, you must attack with ferocity and overwhelming force. You must set aside worry for your own survival if you wish to battle at your greatest. This is the combat strategy I used in my hayday and also the one that led me to the point in life where I am at. It is a style with incredible risk to balance its great rewards."
Hm. So what he's saying is that if you stop focusing so much on survival, you can deal far more damage to your opponent. Then, if you deal that damage to your opponent, they won't be able to kill you regardless.
"Haaa, if I want you to use this knowledge wisely, then I should probably explain something to you. How I ended up on these streets despite seemingly having so much experience as a mage. Well, as you may have guessed, I broke my mana core due to the recklessness of this style. I was a talented mage, I had awakened at the young age of ten, something very few people had done. I was a conjurer of the fire element, just like the man who took your fingers from you. Back when I was in my late teens, when the Second Elf-Human War had begun, I was enlisted to help Sapin win. It was there that I began truly showing my excellence, I was a conjurer yet because I began from humble beginnings as a peasant, I had learnt how to fight on the street. With the spells of a conjurer and martial arts on a similar level to enhancers, I was a great help to our country. During the war was also when I developed my combat style, and had formed a set of martial arts that worked around the style. I named it the Dance of Vulcan."
This was interesting, he had a whole combat style built from the ground up by himself. Who in the world had managed to cripple his core?
"The Dance of the Vulcan was a strong martial art, and not many would survive the barrage of spells I would send before I would engage. Much less the fight that would occur afterwards. At my peak I was an initial silver mage, someone who had a true impact on the battlefield and fought on a level beyond what many could dream. It was at this point that I learned of the existence of the true peak fighters of our world. They were called the Lances and they are white core mages in the service of each royal family. I encountered one of them attempting to destroy the battalion I had been a part of, I needed to buy time. So, I engaged the enemy regardless of the difference in our strength, and I paid for it. I could put up a fight against them, but it wasn't enough. Within the minute, I had my core pierced and was only allowed to live because a human Lance intervened and saved my life. With the ongoing war, I could only get healed by an emitter and sent home. Yet, I had no family and no support, all I had known was fighting and it didn't take long for me to end up in the dirt with nothing to my name."
I stared at him intently and hung on every word he had said. He had been insanely strong, to be able to stand up to a Lance, but what was the point in telling me this now? He had kept it a secret for so many years and yet felt that he should tell me now, why?
"I tell you this not to relive my glory days, but to want you, if you walk down the path of a mage. You could very well end up like me."
"I understand, ol- Mr Andreas. I will take your words to heart and be careful."
"Good, now I had intended to teach you the forms for my martial art after you awakened but your physical strength has reached the threshold to learn before you even awaken. So watch."
He stood up and punched, kicked, elbowed, kneed, headvutted, and used every part of his body possible as a weapon in a sequence that he smoothly moved through. He then picked up a stick, and moved through the motions yet again but while attacking with a stick. I had my eyes glued to him and observed every movement that he made in an attempt to burn it into my mind. It was complicated, I would need a while to figure this one out. The way he smoothly moved from one move to the next confused me, he linked a headbutt to an elbow to a kick in such a manner that I wasn't sure I could manage to pull it off.
"Kid, that was your only chance to see that for a while."
He fell down on one knee and continued heaving for air, did it really take that much effort to do? Well, I suppose he isn't in the best physical shape so it may be a bit more troublesome for him.
I was wrong, it wasn't because he was out of shape. I was lying defeated on the ground as I had failed on my ump-teenth attempt at performing the Dance of Vulcan.
"You need to let go of that urge for survival, release the limits you are placing on yourself and you will be able to do it."
"What does that even mean…"
"I don't believe you will gain anything more from training today, go home and rest, we'll repeat this tomorrow."
I sighed, stood up and stretched for a moment to soothe my aching muscles. I still had much to do today, so I couldn't be too weak for the rest of the day.
It was almost time to form my core.