LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 9: Learning how to fight properly II
The pre-dawn sky painted the horizon in warm hues of orange and red, its faint glow a gentle herald of the coming day. Noctis stirred from his rest, the coolness of the rooftop seeping through his clothes—a familiar discomfort he had grown to find oddly comforting. The chill air nipped at his exposed skin as he rose slowly to his feet, each breath forming small clouds in the morning air. "Let's do this," he whispered, his voice carrying a weight of determination that belied his youthful appearance.
Below him, the streets lay in silence, undisturbed except for the occasional rustle of leaves carried by a soft breeze from a tree near the rooftop of the abandoned house in which he lived. Determination flickered in his eyes as he prepared for another day of relentless training. He had made up his mind to start early, avoiding any chance of running into the children he had met the night before. The weight of solitude hung heavily on him, but he welcomed it—it was his shield, his sanctuary.
Noctis's morning routine was grueling, a testament to his unwavering resolve. He launched into his exercises with precision and discipline: 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, and a punishing 10-kilometer run. The strain on his muscles was immense, but he welcomed the burn. Every push, every step, was a step closer to his goal. As he moved through the routine, he integrated Sun Breathing exercises, each measured inhale and exhale syncing with his motions. His breaths were like whispers of fire, igniting his body with energy and sharpening his focus. at first when he started this type of training six month's ago it was hard to even breath properly while exercising like this, but now it's become bearable and he can complete the exercise pretty easily. " maybe I should increase the intensity a little bit " noctis thought.
"By the time he returned to the rooftop, panting hard, he muttered, 'Or maybe not… haa… haa…' I guess I have to wait until I completely adapt to this, then only I can move to the next level," Noctis thought, as the first rays of sunlight stretched across the horizon. Noctis settled into a cross-legged position, the cool tiles grounding him. Closing his eyes, he immersed himself in the flow of mana coursing through his body. With each passing moment, the Sun Breathing technique amplified his focus, allowing him to shape his mana core with precision. The progress was incremental—small, almost imperceptible advancements—but it was progress nonetheless. He sighed softly, opening his eyes to greet the dawn.
"Good training," he murmured to himself , his voice barely audible. Yet, a frown shadowed his face. "Those kids... they could become troublesome if they keep crossing paths with me." His tone was cautious, tinged with the wisdom of experience. "Though I look like a child, my capabilities are far superior thanks to Sun Breathing. Still, it's better to keep my distance." , for now he thought.
After a brief rest, he decided on his next endeavor. Curiosity led him to the guards' training ground, a place he had been observing from a top of the tree next to the huge wall last evening . Concealing his identity beneath a plain cloak, he slipped through the city unnoticed, careful to avoid drawing attention—especially from the children. The training ground buzzed with energy as guards practiced their craft.
Noctis's gaze was drawn to an intense sparring session at the center of the field. The captain of the guard, a towering figure with broad shoulders , huge muscles and a commanding presence, was locked in a duel with his second-in-command, a burly man known for his agility and raw power.
The clash of swords rang out like a battle hymn, reverberating through the air and drawing the attention of every onlooker. Among them stood Noctis, his heart quickening as he absorbed the scene unfolding before him. The platform—a vast square with sides stretching 20 meters—provided the stage for the duel. Its smooth stone surface bore faint grooves from countless battles, adding a tactile layer to the fighters' movements. Dust stirred with every step, every pivot, adding a sense of urgency to the relentless exchange.
The captain stood poised at the center-left of the platform, his posture low and balanced. His knees bent slightly, grounding him with precision. His leading foot angled forward, toes pointing toward his opponent, while his grip on the sword was firm yet relaxed, the blade's tip angled upward like a predator's poised fang. He took a calculated step forward, his boots sliding across the stone with deliberate control, ensuring stability while maintaining his momentum.
Opposite him, the second-in-command mirrored his readiness, standing slightly to the right of center. His weight was evenly distributed between both feet, his body coiled like a spring, prepared to react. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow as he studied the captain's every move, his focus unyielding as he anticipated the opening attack.
The captain made his move. His blade flashed in a feint toward the second-in-command's right shoulder, the motion swift and deliberate. His left foot slid forward smoothly, closing the gap with practiced ease. The muscles in his arms coiled as his torso twisted to add speed and force to the strike. The second-in-command reacted instantly, pivoting on his right heel while his left foot skimmed the platform, his body leaning slightly to the left to evade the incoming blade. The air whistled as the captain's sword sliced through empty space.
But the captain was already a step ahead. With a flick of his wrist, he redirected the trajectory of his blade mid-swing. It arced downward toward the second-in-command's exposed left flank, exploiting the momentary shift in balance. His right leg stepped diagonally forward, his core twisting to amplify the strike. His eyes remained locked on his opponent, his movements calculated and precise.
Caught off-guard, the second-in-command barely managed to react. His sword rose in a desperate block, meeting the captain's blade with a resounding clang that echoed across the platform. The force of the impact rippled through his arms, forcing him to adjust his stance. Planting his left foot firmly, his toes gripped the edge of a groove in the stone, while his right foot slid backward to brace against the pressure.
The captain pressed his advantage, stepping forward with his left foot, angling his torso slightly to maintain a narrow profile. His blade flicked upward, testing the second-in-command's guard. In response, the subordinate swept his sword in a horizontal arc, deflecting the blow with precision. His movements grew more defensive, each step calculated to avoid overexposure. His boots scuffed the platform as he circled to his right, attempting to regain his balance and create space.
"He's reading his opponent," Noctis observed, admiration lighting up his eyes as he noticed the subtle mastery in the captain's movements.
The second-in-command retaliated with a series of heavy strikes aimed at the captain's upper body, each blow designed to overpower and corner him. But the captain's footwork was a masterclass in precision. He retreated just enough to evade each swing, his boots gliding over the stone without losing stability. Every step conserved energy, his body coiled and ready to counter. With a sudden lunge, the captain aimed his blade at his opponent's wrist. The second-in-command parried just in time, the clash of metal ringing out sharply. But the captain transitioned seamlessly into a low sweep kick. The second-in-command leapt back narrowly avoiding the strike, yet the captain was relentless, already poised for the next attack.
Noctis absorbed every detail, from the calculated movements to the feints and counters. The captain's body shifted with practiced ease, his shoulders relaxed and his breathing steady, a testament to his discipline. Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next, his weight transferring smoothly between his legs as he adjusted his angle of attack. In contrast, the second-in-command showed signs of strain. His posture grew tense, his shoulders rising with each labored breath. His footwork became increasingly erratic, his boots scraping audibly against the stone as he fought to maintain balance.
The environment amplified the intensity of the duel. The faint echoes of their boots and the metallic clash of their swords filled the air. Dust rose in small clouds with each sharp pivot or slide, a tangible reminder of the high stakes. The edge of the square loomed nearby, ever-present and unforgiving. A single misstep could mean being cornered—or worse, forced off the platform entirely.
This was more than a fight; it was a dance of precision and strategy, a testament to their skill, experience, and determination. Every step, every strike, and every breath spoke volumes of their mastery. Noctis could only watch in awe, the tension in the air as palpable as the steel in their hands. " Wow " leaving from his mouth.
Noctis absorbed every movement, every feint and counter. The duel was a symphony of skill, and he was captivated . When the match ended " that was amazing, not gonna lie " noctis said to no one in particular , then he slipped away unnoticed by anyone , the fire of inspiration burning within him.
Beneath a sunset sky in the evening awash in hues of orange and red, Noctis stood on the rooftop, his gaze fixed on an opponent who wasn't truly there. The captain's shadow loomed in his mind's eye—a towering, daunting specter forged from a single memory. It was not about mimicking the captain's style. Noctis's goal was to face that shadow as himself, wielding his own growing mastery of Sun Breathing techniques.
The phantom moved first in his imagination, a swift, overwhelming strike aimed at Noctis's chest. He reacted instantly, grounding himself and exhaling sharply. His feet shifted, his body twisting into Dance —a downward, vertical slash arcing through the air. The shadow parried effortlessly, forcing Noctis to leap back to avoid a follow-up strike. His muscles tensed, sweat beginning to form on his brow. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his imaginary blade, forcing his breathing to steady.
"Focus," he whispered to himself, his voice cutting through the rooftop's silence.
The shadow lunged again, relentless. Noctis sidestepped, narrowly evading its blade, and countered with Clear Blue Sky —a 360° spinning slash. The motion forced the shadow to retreat momentarily, but it quickly rebounded, launching a flurry of attacks. Noctis parried and dodged as best he could, but each exchange tested the limits of his speed and precision.
When the phantom's blade came down in a crushing overhead arc, Noctis met it with Raging Sun —a pair of horizontal, arcing slashes meant to intercept the attack. The clash reverberated in his mind, his hands trembling under the imagined weight of the blow. He pushed forward, blending the energy of his movements into Burning Bones, Summer Sun . His blade spiraled outward, the motion guarding his front against the shadow's relentless offense.
For a fleeting moment, Noctis gained the upper hand. He pressed the attack, leaping into the air with Setting Sun Transformation . His blade swept horizontally in a calculated arc meant to decapitate the shadow. The phantom evaded with ease, its image warping and flowing like liquid darkness. Noctis landed in a crouch, immediately dashing forward to close the distance.
He focused his breathing, shifting his stance into a poised readiness before executing Solar Heat Haze . His blade shimmered in his mind's eye, its true trajectory masked by the imagined heat-haze that cloaked it. He aimed for the shadow's torso, and for the first time, the phantom hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the deceptive strike.
This was it—an opening.
Noctis poured his remaining strength into a final combination, launching into Flame Dance . His first strike, a downward vertical slash, roared through the air, flowing seamlessly into a horizontal sweep. The phantom's defense wavered under the ferocity of his assault. The tip of his imagined blade grazed its form, a faint streak of light slicing through the dark.
The shadow dissolved, its remnants scattering into the night like wisps of smoke. Noctis staggered back, his chest heaving, his body trembling with exertion. His arms hung at his sides, his fingers still curled as if clutching the hilt of his imaginary blade. The rooftop fell silent, save for the sound of his heavy breathing.
A small smile crept onto his face. It wasn't a decisive victory, but it was progress. He had faced the captain's shadow—his own fear, doubt, and inadequacies—and he had held his ground. The stars above seemed to shine brighter, as if in silent encouragement.
"I'll surpass you," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the cool night breeze. "And the next time I face you, shadow or real… I'll do more than graze."
Noctis sat cross-legged on the rooftop, his mind and body still buzzing from the phantom battle. The cool breeze carried the faint scent of flowers, mingling with the warm residual energy coursing through his veins. He placed his hands on his knees, palms facing upward, and closed his eyes.
"That's something," he whispered again, the words carrying a mix of pride and determination. His lips curled into a faint smile as he inhaled deeply, letting the air fill his lungs and steady his racing heart.
The stars above twinkled like silent guardians, watching over him with quiet approval. In their light, he found a calmness that stilled his turbulent thoughts. Guided by the techniques of Sun Breathing, he turned his focus inward. Each breath slowed, becoming deliberate and rhythmic. The fiery energy of his breathing style now served a different purpose—not to fight but to focus, to refine.
He began to channel his mana particles inward, drawing them from the scattered fringes of his body. The glowing energy, normally wild and untamed, started to converge at a single point within him. The process was delicate, demanding an unwavering focus and immense mental clarity. His thoughts faded, replaced by the steady hum of his breath and the growing pulse of energy gathering in his core.
It wasn't easy. The particles resisted, threatening to scatter at the smallest distraction. But Noctis held firm, his will unyielding. Each second felt like an eternity, yet the steady hum of growth within him was undeniable—a quiet triumph born of discipline and perseverance.
"Step by step," he thought, his mind now clear as crystal. "Fight by fight, I'm getting closer."
The energy finally coalesced, forming the faint beginnings of what would someday become his mana core—a tangible representation of his strength and potential. Exhaustion swept over him like a wave, but it was a satisfying fatigue, one that came with the knowledge that he had moved closer to his goal.
Noctis exhaled one final, steady breath, his body relaxing completely. He let himself fall gently back onto the rooftop, gazing up at the stars that still glimmered above. His eyelids grew heavy, the weight of the day pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep. The cool night sky blanketed him, and for now, the challenges of tomorrow could wait.
The stars seemed to shimmer brighter, as if promising that they would still be there to guide him when he awoke, ready to face whatever awaited him next.