Mastered in Half a Day
A month had passed since Raon began learning the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames.
He had kept up his practice through dawn and evening and on into the night, yet aura still refused to form. The art was as difficult as it was powerful—its mastery demanded a level of effort that defied imagination. Circulating the cold energy inside his mana circuits at the same time hadn't helped his progress either.
Take it slow.
Standing at the center of the training ground, Raon closed his eyes with quiet composure.
I have the Ring of Fire.
As long as the Ring of Fire was with him, his physical and mana talents would fill to the brim in time. This was not the hour to rush a step forward. It was the hour to drive the foundation deeper still.
The moment regular training began, the doors of the training ground swung wide and Rimer strode in. For once, he wasn't late.
"Starting today, mornings are for martial arts."
"Ohh!"
"Woooah!"
"Finally!"
"Swordsmanship! It's swordsmanship!"
The children threw their hands in the air and whooped. Even after passing the exam, the trainees had spent an entire month on nothing but physical conditioning. The cheering was only natural.
"It's swordsmanship that made the name Zieghart famous across the continent, but our fist arts are no less formidable. I'll demonstrate the basic forms now."
Having said he would demonstrate, Rimer promptly flopped down on the platform.
"Senior instructor. You're up."
He yawned and flicked his fingers. An instructor standing behind him stepped forward and began performing the fist art.
The Seven Forms Fist.
A fist art of seven postures—the foundation of every fist technique that followed. Raon knew the forms, but he had never practiced them. In his previous life, every hand he extended had been a blade meant to kill in a single stroke.
"Ah, the Seven Forms Fist..."
"I already know that one."
"Ugh. This is gonna be so boring."
The children's faces went cold the moment they recognized it. They had learned the art before coming here, and it clearly failed to stir them.
"Those are some bored faces."
Rimer smirked and waggled a finger.
"I know plenty of you already learned the Seven Forms Fist before you got here. So if I confirm you've actually mastered it, I'll send you straight to the next lesson."
"The next lesson? What do you mean?"
Dorian, who was as curious as he was cowardly, raised his hand.
"You're all trainees, but you're not all at the same level. Meaning there's no reason to teach you all the same thing. Cross the line I set, and I'll send you to the next stage immediately."
Rimer muttered that the old training methods had been far too stuffy.
"Nice. I like it."
Marta Zieghart walked forward with a bright smile.
"I thought we'd be stuck learning those boring Seven Forms again. This is how it should be. Why should the gifted have to wait around for the ones who can't keep up?"
"That wasn't quite what I had in mind. Anyway—from your positions, reproduce the Seven Forms Fist you just saw. Like I said, if I like what I see, you start the next training immediately."
The children launched into the Seven Forms Fist the instant Rimer finished speaking.
Their fundamentals are solid.
Raon watched the children around him perform the art, a gleam in his eyes.
No wonder this is a great house.
He had assumed they had learned the basics sloppily and moved on, but every child was throwing punches with precise direction and power.
"Hmm. As expected."
Rimer nodded in satisfaction.
"Marta Zieghart, Burren Zieghart, Runaan Sullion..."
As he called the names of the trainees who had demonstrated a proper Seven Forms Fist, fewer than twenty remained in the center. And among them stood Raon Zieghart, red eyes gleaming.
"Hmm."
Rimer watched Raon Zieghart perform the Seven Forms Fist and nodded.
He really didn't know it, after all.
His punches were raw, the forms not yet properly set. Just as Sylvia had said, it seemed he hadn't learned a thing. Still, Raon had once copied the flow of the Empty Tiger Fist that Burren used. He would have it mastered within a few days.
I should check on the other kids too...
His eyes were drawn to Raon whether he liked it or not, but Glenn had warned him, so he made a proper survey of the others as well.
Not bad.
These were children who had entered on recommendations, so most of them had excellent eyes and physiques. They would pick up the Seven Forms Fist soon enough and move on to the next stage.
Competition really is the way to go.
This was no different from a long-distance race. The ones out in front pushed themselves so the ones behind wouldn't catch up, and the ones behind gave everything they had to close the gap. A virtuous cycle of training.
Next, then.
Rimer looked over the trainees who had passed the Seven Forms Fist—Marta, Burren, Runaan, and the rest. Marta had already perfectly mastered even the fist art taught at the second stage, so she had begun training the third-stage Thunder Fist.
Of course she has.
Marta had failed midway through once, but that had been her temperament, not her skill. He would need to prepare other training so she wouldn't waste her time. And, of course, he would have to think of a way to sand down that rough personality of hers a little.
Those two are doing well too.
Burren and Runaan already knew a fair amount of the True Rising Fist taught at the second stage. It wouldn't be long before those two advanced to the third-stage Thunder Fist as well.
Still lying down, Rimer jotted notes about the children.
Alright, back to... huh?
After sweeping his gaze across every child in the training ground, Rimer looked back at Raon—and his pupils trembled.
What the...
In the brief moment he had spent checking on the others, the forms of the Seven Forms Fist were being carved into Raon Zieghart's fist path.
Is that even possible?
Rimer couldn't help himself. He sat up.
Raon was different from Marta, Runaan, and Burren. He had clearly started from nothing—and now he was a completely different person. Even if the Seven Forms Fist was a basic art, even if it was easy to imitate, growing this visibly in less than an hour defied all reason.
What kind of monster...
It hadn't been long since he had been stunned by Raon's mana control. Now he was being floored all over again by the boy's ability to absorb martial arts. His mouth fell open on its own.
He had no intention of giving Raon special treatment. He had planned to send him to the next stage only after the fundamentals of fist arts were firmly in place. That moment was approaching far faster than expected.
At this rate, tomorrow... no. Maybe even this evening...
Marta Zieghart smiled as she snapped out a crisp punch.
I like these instructors.
Until now, she had always been made to wait for the ones who lagged behind. That was the wrong way to do things. The gifted should rise, and the ungifted should become their stepping stones. That was how it ought to work.
She glanced to her left. The children still learning the Seven Forms Fist came into view. She had mastered that art two years ago. The children only now learning it would never catch her, not if they spent their entire lives trying. By the time they finished the Seven Forms Fist and reached the second stage, she would have already completed the Thunder Fist and started on swordsmanship.
That one's here too.
Marta's lips curled as she watched Raon swinging his fists in the center.
Raon Zieghart.
Born with a vicious cold in his body, yet he had volunteered for training and taken first place. A real oddity. Thinking back to a month ago, when he had blocked her surprise attack—his senses and his movement had both been excellent. The boy had talent.
But.
He was far too late. Starting to learn aura and fist arts at thirteen was no different from beginning a race long after the starting signal had already sounded.
He'll never catch me.
Her own aura had already reached the third star, and she had mastered not only fist arts but swordsmanship as well. Burren or Runaan, who had trained since they were little, might be another story. Raon wasn't even a rival.
Just a stepping stone.
Raon Zieghart was nothing more than a low stepping stone, not even worth her attention.
"Hmph."
Marta snorted and turned her head. She cut off her interest in Raon and focused on her Thunder Fist training.
A man approached as she continued raising her mastery of the Thunder Fist until the sun went down.
"Young miss. It's time for the direct-line training."
It was Camel, her butler.
"Got it."
Marta nodded and turned around. The other children were still practicing their low-level fist arts.
"Pathetic."
She was sneering at them, about to leave, when Rimer's voice rang out.
"Raon Zieghart."
"You pass. Move on to the next."
She turned at that light, wind-borne voice. Raon Zieghart was nodding, his face utterly calm.
"What?"
Marta's eyes flew wide. A day. No—he had completed the Seven Forms Fist in a mere half-day. She couldn't believe it.
It took me four days.
Even she, adopted into Zieghart for her genius talent, had needed four days to learn the Seven Forms Fist. That that stepping-stone of a boy had reached the same level in a mere half-day made no sense.
"Then please teach me the next fist art."
"The sun's already down. Too much of a hassle. We'll do it tomorrow."
"A hassle? That's not something an instructor should—"
"Hold on."
Marta cut in between Raon and Rimer mid-conversation.
"Instructor. Are you saying that guy passed? The Seven Forms Fist he learned today?"
"That's right."
Rimer's green eyes went round as he nodded.
"You're not just waving him through because you can't be bothered, are you?"
"Waving him through?"
"Even if the Seven Forms contain the basic fist postures, locking in the angles takes a fair amount of time. There's no way that guy completed those angles in half a day."
"Of course it's not complete. But he's at the level to move on to the True Rising Fist."
"Ha. That bar is way too low."
"Hrm..."
Rimer scratched his chin, then turned to Raon.
"You heard her. Raon. Show us once."
"I refuse."
Raon shook his head firmly.
"I already heard the instructor declare that I passed. Why should I do it again?"
"You..."
"Then I'll teach you the True Rising Fist I was going to show you tomorrow. Right now."
Rimer spoke up before Marta could.
"Haa. Fine."
Raon let out a small sigh and set his feet at shoulder width. He stilled his breath and drove his fist forward. A heavy straight smashed through the evening air.
He stepped in and snapped his left fist out. The curving line of it was like a boomerang coming back. He spun to the right and whipped the right fist that had been chambered at his hip. A sharp gust of wind fluttered Marta's bangs.
The forms that followed were elusive and yet packed with force. He rendered all seven postures of the Seven Forms Fist—and the intent behind them—with exacting precision.
Marta swallowed dryly.
Rimer hadn't waved him through. Raon Zieghart had truly learned the forms and the intent of the Seven Forms Fist in half a day.
"You already knew it!"
"No."
Raon lifted his chin as if to ask what nonsense she was talking.
"Kh..."
She had nothing to say. When she had looked earlier, Raon's punches had clearly been at a beginner's level.
"Well, Marta? That's enough to acknowledge, isn't it?"
Rimer chuckled as if teasing her.
"That, in half a day?"
"What did I just watch?"
"Whoa..."
"That's actually insane."
The instructors and the other children couldn't close their mouths either, equally stunned.
"I-I did that much too."
Marta forced a smile and turned her back. She bit her lip and walked straight out of the training ground.
It's fine.
It was only the Seven Forms Fist. Not even swordsmanship—the most basic of basic fist arts. Learning it a little faster didn't mean he could catch her. Right. There was no way that would happen.
Marta calmed herself as she headed for the direct-line training ground, but the trajectory of Raon's fists remained carved deep in her mind.
"What was that about."
Raon dusted off his hands and frowned.
"She's just shocked."
Rimer smirked as he watched Marta leave the training ground.
"Honestly, I was surprised too. I've never seen anyone pick something up as fast as you."
"I appreciate the compliment, but please teach me the next fist art."
"Haa. Fine, fine."
He let out a small sigh and stood. He rolled his waist and wrists, then looked up at the sky.
"But Raon."
"Yes?"
Looking at Rimer's face, a sudden unease crept over him.
"It's too late today. See you tomorrow!"
He kicked up a gust of wind to blot out their vision, then vanished over the wall. The movement was so swift and decisive there wasn't even time to think about stopping him.
"..."
"This King told thee before, did He not? That pointy-eared one hath the face of a backstabber. The sort who'd abandon thee on the battlefield and flee alone."
Since when had he become a fortune-teller? Wrath was now holding forth on Rimer's future as well.
I figured as much, to some degree.
Raon clicked his tongue. From the moment he had seen Rimer's reaction, he had suspected it might go this way.
"Raon Zieghart."
Burren approached with heavy steps.
"I'm going to receive the training that only the direct line can take."
Raon already knew. After evening, while the trainees did personal training, the direct descendants received additional instruction.
"You can call it unfair if you want. But I'll beat you, no matter what it takes."
He glared at Raon for a moment, then left the training ground.
"That insolent gaze of his hath not changed. Someday This King shall surely..."
No. He's changed.
Raon shook his head as he watched Burren's retreating back. He didn't know why, but Burren's eyes had grown clearer since a month ago. The competitive fire was still there, but it no longer seemed like he would stoop to the ugly tricks of before.
He turned at the sound of footsteps behind him. Runaan was looking at him with vacant eyes.
"You're not going?"
"Not going."
"Wouldn't it be better if you went?"
"Not going."
"You'd learn stronger swordsmanship, too..."
"Not going."
Runaan slowly shook her head.
"Tsk."
Raon clicked his tongue and headed for the training hall. Behind him, the soft pad of Runaan's footsteps followed along.