The wooden training hall echoed with the rhythmic clapping of wooden swords meeting each other. Dust motes danced in the slanting rays of sunlight streaming through the high windows. The room was simple, with no unnecessary decorations—just a wide space cleared for practice, surrounded by racks of practice weapons and a few benches along the walls.
In the center stood the trainer, Garret, a seasoned warrior in his late thirties, his weathered face betraying years of battle experience. Opposite him was his student, young but determined, gripping his wooden practice sword with both hands.
"Ready?" Garret's voice was calm, authoritative.
The student, Lucian, nodded, tightening his grip. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness. He knew that today's practice would be different—Garret had hinted as much. It wasn't just about learning forms or refining techniques; today, it was about survival.
"Begin!"
With that single command, Garret moved, and Lucian barely had time to react. The older man closed the distance between them with two quick, measured steps, his wooden sword already arcing towards Lucian's shoulder in a precise strike.
Lucian shifted his weight, pivoting on his right foot while bringing his sword up to parry. The wooden blades met with a sharp crack, but the force of Garret's strike almost threw Lucian off balance. He staggered back a step, regaining his footing just in time to see another attack coming, this time aimed at his left side.
Garret didn't give him a moment to breathe. His footwork was impeccable—always balanced, always moving just enough to be where he needed to be. His strikes were fast and controlled, never over-committing, always testing Lucian's defenses.
"Too slow!" Garret barked as Lucian barely deflected another strike. "You're telegraphing your movements. I can see what you're planning before you even do it."
Lucian gritted his teeth and nodded, his eyes focused on the trainer's every move. He tried to keep his body relaxed, to avoid the tension that would slow him down, but it was difficult under the relentless pressure of Garret's attacks.
This time, when Garret lunged, Lucian anticipated it. He sidestepped, letting the strike pass harmlessly by him, then countered with a quick thrust aimed at the older man's midsection. But Garret was ready. He twisted his body, Lucian's thrust glancing off his side, and in the same motion, he brought his sword down in a sharp blow towards Lucian's head.
Lucian barely had time to raise his sword in a hasty block, the impact sending a jarring shock through his arms. He stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Better," Garret acknowledged, his tone slightly less harsh. "But you're still too predictable. You're thinking too much about what you should do next. In a real fight, that hesitation will get you killed."
They circled each other, Lucian's mind racing. He tried to calm himself, to focus on the flow of the fight instead of over-analyzing every movement. He watched Garret's footwork, the way he never stayed still, always shifting his weight, always ready to move in any direction.
Then, without warning, Garret lunged again. This time, though, Lucian was ready. He didn't think—he just moved. He sidestepped the lunge, turning his body at an angle that brought him closer to the trainer. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he brought his sword up, aiming a strike at Garret's exposed side.
But instead of meeting the trainer's body, his sword met empty air. Garret had anticipated the move, already spinning away, his own sword coming down in a counter-strike towards Lucian's knee.
Lucian saw it too late. He tried to jump back, but the wooden blade caught him on the side of his knee, sending a flare of pain up his leg. He stumbled, barely keeping his balance.
Garret stopped the fight, lowering his sword. "You're getting better," he said, a hint of approval in his voice. "But you're still not thinking like a survivor."
Lucian looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
Garret sheathed his wooden sword at his side and gestured for Lucian to do the same. "In a real fight, it's not just about skill. It's about using whatever you have to win. There are no rules on the battlefield, no honor if you're dead. You need to learn to fight dirty, to use every advantage, every trick you can think of."
He walked over to the side of the room and picked up a small sack filled with sand. "Here," he said, tossing it to Lucian. "Hold onto that. It's your new best friend."
Lucian caught the sack, feeling the rough texture of the fabric. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Throw it," Garret said simply. "If you're in a tight spot, you use anything you can to distract your opponent, to get the upper hand. Sand, dirt, anything. If it gives you a split second to make a move, it's worth it."
They resumed their positions, and Garret motioned for Lucian to attack. This time, Lucian took the initiative. He rushed forward, swinging his sword in a wide arc, but as he did, he loosened his grip on the sandbag, letting it slip into his off-hand. When he was within striking distance, he feigned a downward slash.
Garret moved to parry, and that's when Lucian let go of the sword with one hand, throwing the sand directly at Garret's face.
Garret reacted instantly, raising his arm to block the sand, but it was enough. Lucian's sword changed direction mid-strike, reversing into an upward thrust aimed at Garret's ribs.
For a moment, it seemed as if the move would connect, but then Garret shifted his body, the wooden sword glancing harmlessly off his side as he spun around, bringing his own sword down on Lucian's back.
"Good!" Garret said, even as his strike landed. "You used the sand to create an opening. But don't hesitate after you make the move. Follow through immediately. In a real fight, that hesitation will cost you."
Lucian nodded, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was starting to see what Garret was teaching him. It wasn't just about mastering techniques; it was about adapting, using the environment, and most importantly, understanding that in a life-or-death situation, survival was the only goal.
They continued the match, with Garret teaching Lucian various "dirty tricks" along the way. At one point, Garret showed him how to use a feint to bait an opponent into a vulnerable position, then capitalize on that moment of weakness.
"Always think a step ahead," Garret advised. "If you can predict what your opponent is going to do, you can set traps, lead them into making mistakes."
As the match wore on, Lucian began to incorporate these lessons into his fighting. He used a well-timed feint to draw Garret into a high guard, then quickly dropped low, aiming a strike at his legs. Garret blocked it, but Lucian followed up with a quick jab towards his stomach, forcing the trainer to retreat.
"Excellent!" Garret said, breathing harder now. "You're learning to keep the pressure on. Never give your opponent a moment to think."
But even as Lucian's confidence grew, Garret remained a step ahead. He would deliberately leave openings, only to punish Lucian when he took the bait. He'd let Lucian gain the upper hand, then turn the tables with a sudden counterattack.
"Remember, Lucian," Garret said during a brief pause, "a real fight is chaotic. You have to stay calm, keep your wits about you. You're not just fighting your opponent; you're fighting your own fear, your own doubt. Control that, and you control the battle."
The session continued for what felt like hours, the rhythm of the wooden swords echoing in the training hall. By the end, both were drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. Lucian's muscles ached, his hands raw from gripping the sword, but he felt a sense of accomplishment.
Garret finally called an end to the match, sheathing his sword and clapping a hand on Lucian's shoulder. "You did well today," he said, his tone warmer. "You've learned a lot, but remember, this is just the beginning. The real test will come when you're out there, with your life on the line. Always stay sharp, always be ready to adapt. That's how you survive."
Lucian nodded, absorbing the words. He knew that he still had a long way to go, but today, he'd taken an important step on that journey. He felt a renewed sense of determination, a burning desire to keep improving, to become a warrior worthy of Garret's teachings.
As they left the training hall, Garret gave Lucian one last
piece of advice. "Never forget, Lucian: in a fight, there's no such thing as fair play. If you find yourself in a situation where you have to choose between honor and survival, choose survival. Live to fight another day."
Lucian nodded, the lesson sinking in. It wasn't just about learning to fight—it was about learning to survive, no matter what it took