Chapter 55
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 55
The tiled floor of the sparring ring felt as cold as the blue lighting overhead. When I bounced lightly on my feet, a pleasant elasticity surged up through my toes.
While I warmed up, Kinuan sipped his tea. He'd brought it to the sparring ring in a thermos. The man certainly loved his tea.
Kinuan is genuinely trying to teach me the Akies Combat Style.
Whatever his intentions, I needed to master it. I'd been disappointed at first to learn that the Akies Combat Style wasn't compatible with Legion, but in the end, it had saved my life more times than I could count.
"Luka, I trust you remember the origins of the Akies Combat Style?"
Kinuan took another sip of tea and closed his eyes.
"You mean how Noel Mulrizka created it for the rebel leadership?"
"And how do you think that relates to 'compliance'?"
Compliance was the very first concept Kinuan had taught me.
Compliance, optimization, adaptation.
These concepts were the exact opposite of the Empire's martial philosophy. If one were to define the framework of the Standard Combat Style in similar terms, it would be collision, reinforcement, and overcoming.
The Standard Combat Style focused on acquiring and controlling 'greater power,' whereas the Akies Combat Style centered on utilizing 'limited power.'
That made the Akies style perfectly suited to the guerrilla tactics of the rebels.
Rebels lacked proper supply lines. They couldn't maintain their prosthetic bodies on any regular schedule, and there were times they had to fight without combat prosthetics at all. Their rank-and-file were a ragtag bunch who had never received formal training—a wildly unpredictable force.
Scarce resources, an inferior position, substandard weapons and prosthetics.
Yet they couldn't afford to complain. Like it or not, they had to fight under those abysmal conditions and somehow come out on top.
The only asset they possessed on equal footing with the enemy was their minds. So they overloaded and overworked their brains, burning themselves out to the absolute limit.
I organized my thoughts and spoke them aloud. Kinuan listened, occasionally widening his eyes or offering a faint smile.
Once I finished, he expanded on the idea.
"...Even the leaders of Noel's rebellion came from wildly different backgrounds. Street brawlers, turncoat Imperial soldiers—there were even defectors from Kora and Bellato. Since it was impossible to teach a single, standardized martial art from scratch to such a diverse group, Noel proposed the concept of a Meta Combat Style. A 'combat style to utilize combat styles.'"
I voiced a question I'd been sitting on for a while.
"Instructor, you told me I have the talent to master the Akies Combat Style. But I'm a soldier whose nervous system was enhanced through Imperial procedures since childhood. It took that level of modification for me to even grasp this style. I'm not trying to brag, but were there really that many people of my caliber among the rebel leadership?"
Kinuan gave a cold smile at the observation.
"Luka, if you're willing to take the risk, there are many ways. Countless, in fact. Take those rebel leaders—most of them lived on near-lethal doses of stimulants. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say their skulls were filled with chemical cocktails instead of brain fluid."
Kinuan tapped his temple with a finger as he spoke. He took another slow sip of tea, letting the silence stretch before continuing.
"On top of that, they readily submitted to experimental neural enhancement procedures that hadn't even been theoretically proven. The very neural chemical treatments we receive from the Empire today... were perfected on the corpses of those men."
A distant look entered Kinuan's eyes. I watched him quietly. Even that touch of nostalgia could be a calculated deception.
"So is today's lesson purely theoretical?"
I asked with a sarcastic edge, waiting for his move.
I was itching to spar. This time, I was confident. Kinuan's prosthetic body was a civilian model, not built for combat. Of course, my past self had been thrashed by him again and again regardless.
But things are different now.
No matter how skilled Kinuan was, he couldn't overcome me with a civilian-grade body. Physical limitations were absolute. As Kinuan himself had said, the Akies Combat Style wasn't some miracle-working magic.
"You're practically itching to beat me to a pulp."
"I have a nasty personality. But you already knew that, didn't you?"
Kinuan rose from his chair. His steps were calm, his posture so perfectly balanced that it was impossible to tell whether he was left- or right-handed. He gave away absolutely nothing, projecting a presence as blank as a clean slate.
"You've progressed faster than I anticipated. I didn't expect you to approach the level of a Mysta so quickly. Talent is one thing—but it's your brutally intense combat experience that has truly forged you."
"Mysta?"
"It refers to one who has reached the level of being able to instruct others in the Akies Combat Style. In the past, the hierarchy of Akies Victima was subdivided into ranks like this. But now that the lineage has been lost, it's a meaningless distinction. Just keep in mind that such a title exists."
I couldn't have cared less about some dead lineage. Instead, I chewed on his words.
"Saying I'm close to it means I'm not there yet."
"As always, the body learns faster than the tongue. Today, I intend to show you what I can do. If you don't want to end up in a hospital bed, protect your head and torso."
Kinuan tucked his left hand behind his back and extended only his right arm. His right sleeve slid down to the elbow.
A combat prosthetic?
I raised an eyebrow. A faint motor hum vibrated from Kinuan's right arm. Its output was far beyond anything meant for civilian use.
He swapped out only his right arm for a combat model.
Kinuan curled his fingers, beckoning me forward.
I hadn't even realized his right arm was a combat model until now. Despite the massive discrepancy in weight and tactile feedback between his two arms, he showed no imbalance whatsoever. His control was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
"...Thank you, Instructor."
The words were entirely sincere, without a trace of pretense.
Kinuan's damaged nervous system couldn't handle the strain of a high-output prosthetic. He was taking an enormous risk just to teach me.
An opportunity like this would be rare. No—it might never come again.
Out of respect for my master, I settled into a formal combat stance. Then I closed the distance.
Ssh!
My foot swept across the tiled floor. I dropped low and spun. My upper body stayed down, but my foot whipped upward.
My opening move was a spinning back kick aimed straight for his head. I didn't hold back a single ounce of strength. If this so much as grazed him, Kinuan would die.
* * *
Thud!
With an impact that felt like the world caving in, I was defeated.
I lost again.
The spar had lasted a mere five seconds. To fighters like us, five seconds was an eternity—more than enough time to unleash everything we had in close-quarters combat.
It had been plenty of time for me too. I'd thrown every ounce of my skill at him.
...And yet here I was, lying flat on my back, utterly shut down by a single arm.
Kinuan didn't rush me to get up. I lay there, my mind racing.
On paper, I had the overwhelming advantage. Just like always.
Kinuan's only combat-grade part was his right arm, and even its specs weren't superior to my own body.
It was an unsettling sensation.
It felt as though Kinuan could see the future. He executed the perfect counters as if he knew exactly where my fists and feet would land before I even threw them.
As if we'd choreographed the fight beforehand, every single one of my strikes was intercepted by that right arm.
Then, seizing a split-second opening, he'd grabbed my wrist and slammed me into the floor. This was the result.
The dull ache in my back was nothing compared to the sting of humiliation.
I'd been beaten like this before. Back then, I'd chalked it up to a simple gap in experience and technique. And technically, it still was a gap in skill—but not just standard combat technique. There was something else, something operating on a far higher dimension.
"...Instructor, can you see the future?"
I voiced my honest suspicion.
I lifted my head slightly to look at him. He was already back in his chair, bringing the teacup to his lips.
"If I had that kind of power, do you think I'd be struggling like this?"
"Fair point."
I sat up, resting an elbow on one knee.
"Luka, the Akies Combat Style is something you must steal to learn."
Well, that's incredibly helpful.
I swallowed the sarcastic retort rising in my throat. Sensing my frustration, Kinuan chuckled and pointed upward with his index finger.
"So far, you've learned how to create 'extra eyes' by expanding your senses and changing how you perceive the world."
I knew exactly what he meant.
By using expanded senses—visual data especially—we could construct a perfect three-dimensional map in our minds. That eliminated the need to roll our eyes or turn our heads to scan our surroundings, minimizing the delay between movements.
To pull this off, one's simulation capabilities had to be far beyond the average person's. I could intuitively calculate ballistics without even relying on an auxiliary computing unit. That was the very reason I'd been chosen.
"An Imperial Guardsman is a soldier trained to wield Legion. Your brain still has untapped processing power. Learn to use it. We'll resume our lessons once you do."
My lips twitched into a wry smile. Kinuan was a ruthless teacher.
If I couldn't figure it out on my own, I didn't deserve to progress. My journey with the Akies Combat Style would end right here.
"You may go first, Luka," Kinuan said, remaining seated.
I stood and walked toward the door—then stopped in my tracks. I turned around and walked back to him.
"...Let me give you a shoulder. You're going to have trouble moving."
I'd noticed his fingers trembling slightly earlier. His pupils kept losing focus, too. The only reason he remained seated was that he couldn't stand. Even as he spoke to me, his consciousness was likely flickering on and off like a malfunctioning machine.
Kinuan had engaged in high-speed combat, forcing his ruined brain to control a combat prosthetic. I knew all too well the staggering toll that took.
Kinuan braced himself against the wall, then leaned heavily against me as if collapsing.
"I'll take you up on that, then."
"Don't mention it."
I supported him all the way back to his office. I had a mountain of questions I wanted to ask—about his connection to Tora, about what he'd been doing in the Lower District all those years ago. The man who held every answer was right beside me, saving me the trouble of digging them up myself.
But even if I asked, Kinuan wouldn't answer. And frankly, I didn't want him to.
So instead, we made idle small talk. He even advised me to get a girlfriend, pointing out that the sensations of a biological body and a prosthetic one were subtly different, so I ought to gain some sexual experience before undergoing full-body prosthetic surgery. Well. That was my own business.
...Walking together like this, we almost looked like a normal master and disciple.
But someday...
Our relationship would most likely end in ruin. Our bond was paper-thin. Both Kinuan and I were prepared to sever it at a moment's notice.
I wasn't sad. But it would be a lie to say I didn't feel a bitter tang of regret.
I only hoped I wouldn't be the one who had to put him down.