The sand under Corin's feet was soft, but not yielding. The circle was drawn. Only the occasional metallic clang of weapons from previous battles echoed in the air.
Corin against Riven. After the meeting, Corin had agreed on a training session. It was important to know about the capabilities of ones coworkers.
Riven was calm, hands loose, gaze watchful.
A tower of a man. His left arm was bandaged, but not because of an injury but to limit himself. A gesture of arrogance... or challenge. He was certainly looking down on Corin.
"I am no Aldric," Riven said. "If you hesitate, you lose."
Corin did not answer.
His gaze sharpened; the ravens were around him again The surroundings dissected into zones, lines of movement, angles of footfall. Riven pulsed like a threat, a moving bulwark.
Serena raised her hand. "Begin."
Corin charged forward. The spear materialized in his right-a clean thrust to the flank.... Riven parried with his bare forearm, the impact echoed. Corin spun. Two steps to the side, the spear pulled with him, a semi-circular motion that kept the pressure on.
Riven ducked, dropped his body, swept across the ground with a wide kick, a wave of sand flew up.
Corin jumped backwards, turned mid-air, sent the spear flying as he deactivated, it disappeared in flight.
Riven stormed through the cloud of dust.
'Fast. Damn fast.'
A fist strike, Corin dodged, just millimeters. The ground shook under Riven's kicks.
Corin slammed his elbow against Riven's arm, using the momentum to leap upwards, a leap over Riven's back. In mid-air, the spear reappeared in his hand. Corin whirled, the spear spinning like a pinwheel, whipping downwards.
Riven raised both arms, blocking, but Corin let go of the spear, inertia carried it on as Corin aimed a swift kick straight for Riven's neck.
Riven grabbed him and flung him to the ground. The lock reappeared in a flash. Corin rammed him into the ground to cushion him.
Corin's eyes flashed. He noticed so much in that brief rotation.
'Dominant right foot, center of gravity quite centered, but not perfect.'
He saw and without having to use the ravens. He landed on one knee, the spear flew back and turned into a short form. He kicked it like a dagger into Riven's left leg just deep enough to cause pain, but no damage.
Riven growled - "Not bad."
He grabbed the spear, tossed it aside; but Corin was already on the move.
A low kick to Riven's injured leg, followed by a leaping kick to the chest that was more timing than force.
Riven staggered. Surprised by the flow of the fight.
Corin slid past the ground, rolled up, activated the spear again, this time to its full length and placed it in the ground in front of him.
A moment of silence. Then he pulled himself up by the shaft, flung himself into the air, turned horizontally, the spear was part of his body.
Twisting kick, the air pressure tore Riven's guard asideand then a last thrust, a thrust with the blunt side against the throat.
Riven knelt down.
The fight was over.
Silence. Then applause. They seemed quite impressed.
Cearen commented quietly without getting up, "He saw Riven's body posture change.
Serena mumbled something into her book, "Fight read like a text."
Riven stood up slowly. No mockery. No anger. Just respect.
"You're a problem, kid."
Corin took a deep breath. "I like solving them."
At the edge, behind the wooden pillar, sat a white-haired girl. Her legs dangled slightly over the stone, her smile, crooked
"Interesting," she whispered.
------------------------------------------
The sand was still sticking to Corin's boots as he sat on the stone railing. The sun had long since set, the light from the training fields casting long shadows on the earth. Leora, exhausted after her fight against Cearen, had left the field, but Corin's gaze remained fixed on him.
Cearen was like an enigma that did not impose itself in the midst of battle, but unfolded silently. Not a moment too much, no hesitation. It wasn't just technology. It was presence.
Lost in thought, Corin twirled the chain of glasses between his fingers, then raised his eyes.
"Tell me..."
His voice was calm, almost casual.
"That calm you have while you're fighting. Like nothing is stressing you out. That's not a Blessing, is it?"
Cearen paused for a moment. He was undoing his bandages and gave Corin a cursory but interested glance. Then he leaned against the wooden post of the training ground.
"You have good eyes," he said with a small, honest smile. "But you're not completely wrong. My Blessing helps, but that's not the reason."
Corin pulled the sunglasses up to his forehead, letting them hang there. "Then what?"
Cearen looked thoughtfully to the side, as if he needed to weigh up for a moment whether it was worth explaining. "Have you ever heard of immersion?"
Corin shook his head. "Never."
Cearen nodded as if he'd expected it. Then he raised a hand as if to grasp the word itself.
"Immersion is a state. Not a trick, not a technique. It's rare, even here. You don't just lose yourself in the fight... you are the fight. No hesitation, no distraction. Just reaction, intuition, movement."
There was a hint of awe in his voice. Not proud. Just clear.
"It takes years. Experience. And most importantly, the perfect harmony between your Blessing and your fighting skills."
"So... Just a lot of training?"
Cearen snorted softly. "Have fun finding someone at rank 3 or even rank 4 who can do that."
He let the words hang in the air, then looked at Corin again. "This has nothing to do with talent or even training. It's about control. Understanding. And absolute presence."
Corin snorted. "Sounds... Hard."
"It is." Cearen turned to face him. "Most never get there. Not even close."
Corin frowned slightly. "And what do you mean by... Skills? Technology and stuff?"
Cearen crossed her arms. "I'm talking about masteries."
Corin raised a brow in surprise. "Masteries?"
"Mhm."
Cearen counted them off on her fingers. "The core principles of fighting. Speed. Strength. Technique. Durability. Every fighter, no matter how strong their Blessing is, relies on these four pillars. Masteries mean that you have mastered one of these aspects to the core. Not 'good' - not 'strong'. But... you become the standard."
Corin was silent for a moment. The idea was new, but it fit.
"You?" Corin asked quietly.
"Technique," Cearen replied simply. "I'm working on speed."
"That can be... learned?"
Cearen hesitated, "I don't know. Like I said, not everyone can do it. It requires a few things at once, but it's not tied to the individual ranks. Someone can be stronger or faster than someone else. But unless that person knows how to use that strength in the first place, they will always be behind the person who has mastered that aspect if they are on equal footing.
Corin leaned back, his hands clasped behind his neck. The wind brushed through his hair, and there was a new depth in his gaze.
"Then it's time to find out."
A soft laugh from Cearen. Warm, but not arrogant. "Then look forward to the next few weeks."