"Before you can wield a weapon with true skill, you must understand the foundation of combat itself." He took a step forward and unsheathed a blunt training sword from his belt, raising it into a stance with practiced ease.
"There are five fundamental battle stances. Each one complements a different stat, and knowing which to use in battle can mean the difference between life and death."
Elias leaned in slightly, intrigued. He already knew his Weapon Mastery skill granted him automatic proficiency, but understanding the logic behind these stances would help refine his instincts even further.
"The first stance," the instructor continued, shifting his weight slightly, "is the Strength Stance. This stance maximizes raw power. A wide stance, firm footing, and a strong grip allow you to deliver devastating blows capable of shattering defenses. However, it's slower and leaves you open if you're not careful."
He demonstrated with a powerful downward swing, the sheer force of the motion making the air whistle around the blade.
"The second is the Agility Stance. Speed over power. Footwork is key, allowing for quick strikes and fast dodges. You'll sacrifice raw strength, but against faster opponents, it's invaluable."
He shifted his body, standing more lightly on his feet.
His movements became fluid, his sword flicking through the air with a grace that emphasized speed over force.
"The third is the Vitality Stance. This one is defensive, used for prolonged engagements. Your stance remains firm, prioritizing parries and blocks. If you're outnumbered or facing a relentless foe, this stance will help you endure."
He raised his blade into a guard position, demonstrating a stable, immovable posture. Elias could see how useful it would be against overwhelming force.
"The fourth is the Precision Stance. This stance prioritizes accuracy, striking at weak points instead of brute-forcing your way through a fight. It's perfect for taking down heavily armored foes or exploiting openings."
The instructor demonstrated a precise thrust, striking a single marked point on a practice dummy's torso with unerring accuracy.
"And finally," he said, stepping back to center, "the Adaptability Stance. This is the most advanced, requiring an understanding of all the others. It allows you to shift seamlessly between them based on the situation. Few master this stance, but those who do… are nearly unstoppable."
A silence settled over the room. The weight of the lesson hung in the air. The students exchanged glances, some excited, others intimidated.
"Now," the instructor said, his voice brooking no argument, "you will all practice these stances until your bodies remember them better than breathing. Begin."
Elias didn't hesitate. He stepped into the Strength Stance first, grounding himself as the instructor had demonstrated.
He could feel the natural alignment of his body, the way his muscles positioned themselves instinctively. His Weapon Mastery made it easier, but he still needed to refine his technique.
One by one, the students worked through the stances, shifting from one to the next. The instructor moved among them, correcting postures with sharp words and even sharper strikes of a wooden baton when necessary.
Some flinched, others cursed under their breath, but no one dared complain.
Elias transitioned into the Agility Stance next, his movements becoming quicker, lighter. Then the Vitality Stance, where he felt his core tighten, emphasizing stability over speed.
The Precision Stance followed, requiring intense focus, and finally, the Adaptability Stance — a shifting, ever-changing flow between all the others.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but sweat beaded on his forehead. Around him, some students were beginning to falter, their legs trembling from the constant adjustments and corrections.
"Again," the instructor barked. "Until you get it right."
They repeated the stances, refining each transition.
Elias noticed some students struggling with certain stances — one boy couldn't maintain the Strength Stance for long, while another fumbled the agility-based footwork.
The instructor suddenly turned to Elias. "You," he said sharply. "Demonstrate all five stances in order."
Elias nodded and stepped forward, inhaling deeply before he began.
Strength Stance — his feet planted firmly, his grip steady, the blade ready for a crushing strike.
Agility Stance — he adjusted his posture, shifting his weight, his body light as he imagined darting through an enemy's defenses.
Vitality Stance — his form solidified, his weapon raised in a defensive guard, absorbing hypothetical blows.
Precision Stance — he honed in on a singular target, his sword aimed for an imaginary weak point.
Finally, Adaptability Stance — he let his body shift, fluidly moving from one stance to the next, each transition seamless.
When he finished, the instructor observed him with unreadable eyes. Then, after a tense pause, he nodded.
"Good," he said simply.
Elias released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The class continued until their bodies ached, the repeated movements pushing them past their limits. But by the time the session ended, everyone had a clearer understanding of their strengths and weaknesses.
However their watches blinked, it was time to head to the next class.
Elias walked through the academy's wide halls, the soft hum of chatter filling the air as students moved between classes.
His uniform, now familiar against his skin, felt slightly heavier today. Maybe it was the anticipation of what was to come.
Magical Theory.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, sighing as he approached the classroom door. The time he had been in the Academy was grueling, filled with physical training, combat lessons, and endless explanations about survival outside the walls.
But something about Magical Theory always kept him on edge. Maybe it was because he knew, deep down, that he couldn't approach this subject like everyone else.
Taking a breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was already half full, students seated in neat rows, some engaged in quiet conversations while others prepared their notes.
The instructor, the middle-aged man with sharp green eyes and graying hair, stood at the front, arms crossed. His gaze flickered toward Elias but didn't linger.
Elias slipped into a seat near the back, placing his bag on the floor beside him. As more students trickled in, the room grew quieter.
When the last student finally took their place, the instructor stepped forward.
"Alright," he said, his voice steady, commanding. "Today's lesson will be different."