Sig's basement looked larger than I remembered. I wasn't sure when, but he'd added a second training ring, larger than the first but with the same wooden border and sandy floor.

  New targets hung on the far wall, and I could sense even from a distance the mana packed into them. It was impossible to see the runes, but the feeling they gave off was like that of immovable rock. My best guess was a reinforcement enchantment, or some kind of self-repair function.

  I pulled off my coat, throwing it onto a nearby workbench before rolling back the sleeves of my shirt. As I did so, Sig walked past me to retrieve two staves from a rack set into the wall. He turned, throwing one of the weapons towards me, and I snatched it from the air with easy grace.

  "Rules?" I asked, flourishing the staff around my body as I walked into the training ring.

  "First to land three telling blows wins. Head and groin are both off-limits," Sig replied. "And no magic. I want to see how you've improved with a weapon, not your spellcraft. Leave that to Julian."

  "Of course," I said, smiling as I dropped into my combat stance. "I'm ready whenever you feel like starting."

  Sig matched my grin, stepping into the opening stance of his own style. Then, he moved.

  I had trained with Sigmund almost daily back when I was still an apprentice. We'd sparred many times, but I always knew he was holding back, never using even a fraction of his full skill. In the years since, I had tried more than once to measure his true abilities and estimate how I might fare. After all my practice, personal modifications, and learning various styles, I thought I must be close.

  And I was wrong.

  Sig flowed across the gap between us like water, closing the distance in just three quick steps. He was in front of me in an instant, the tip of his staff striking out in a lightning-quick thrust. If I were less experienced or if I were still an ordinary man, I wouldn't lost a point there and then. But I was neither, and managed to deflect away the attack with a parry using the far end of my own weapon.

  The momentum pulled the front of his staff to the side, but Sig moved with it, turning a miss into a smooth counterattack. The other end came around in an overhand strike, and I stepped away, narrowly dodging in before slipping back in for an attack of my own.

  Sig met me halfway, slamming his staff into mine partway through the strike. We pushed against one another, and it was here that I saw the first mistake. I was as strong as Sigmund, but I'd already changed my footwork to something lighter and quicker. It gave me mobility, but here, in such closed quarters, his rooted stance gave him the edge.

  "You're stronger than I remember," Sig remarked with a grin.

  "And you're faster than I thought," I countered, laughing.

  Sig didn't respond, instead shoving me back before launching into a flurry of strikes. I fell into a defensive stance, blocking, dodging, and parrying each blow even as I gave ground. Passivity during a fight was almost always a bad idea, but I wanted to get a measure of his full abilities before I tried anything too daring.

  Eventually, however, I made a mistake.

  I was faster than Sig and nearly as strong, but training and experience more than made up the difference. My blocks and parries caught most of his strikes, but only most. One, another quick, rooted thrust slipped past my guard and smacked hard into my leading shoulder.

  "Damn," I said, taking back and rolling my arm. "That's one for you."

  Sig nodded. "Never be so passive. Dictate the pace of the battle or your opponent will dictate it for you."

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I acknowledged the criticism with a nod, even as I considered his style. Sig hadn't misled me back then. He really did fight the way he'd taught me, albeit with minor changes that spoke to his experience. His footwork was subtly different, his grip wider, and his guard tighter. He struck from a great distance, taking full advantage of the difference in reach between us.

  That last one was the real problem. I had grown taller, but Sig had at least a foot on me with comparatively longer arms and legs. He could step further and reach farther, meaning he could land a strike without entering my functional range. I'd somehow need to slip in without taking a blow, which was easier said than done.

  I bounced on the balls of my feet, shifting from side to side as I examined Sig's stance. He looked rooted and ready, and when he gave me a nod, I attacked.

  The best way to neutralize his range was to get in close before he could bring it to bear. If I let Sig set the pace, he could attack me from far away all day long. So, I moved quickly, using flicking stabs to keep his weapon up and in a defensive posture. The sheer aggression caught Sigmund off guard just long enough for me to slip inside his reach.

  My first few attacks missed, but I had Sig off-balance. Before he could regain his footing, my staff slipped past his guard and cracked against his thigh. I twisted away, twirling my staff in one hand as I smiled. "That's one for me."

  My staff cracked against his upper thigh, and I twisted away, twirling my weapon in one hand as I smiled. "That's one for me."

  Sig raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. "Aggressive. Risky. But not bad."

  He took the next point, using his reach to keep me away as I tried to approach. I managed to weather the first few attacks, but eventually my foot caught in the sand, and he took advantage of the brief stumble to land a solid hit on my ribs.

  I countered with a point of my own, which I attributed to my altered footwork. It seemed to take Sig a hairsbreadth longer than usual to follow my movements, which was enough of an opening. A feint left, a quick step right, a slashing strike against his bicep, and I took the round.

  As we separated and I prepared myself for the fifth and final round of our fight, Sigmund held up a hand.

  "Enough."

  I raised an eyebrow even as I lowered my weapon. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that I've seen enough. Let's talk about this new style of yours," Sig said.

  For a second, I was disappointed. I wasn't sure if I'd win the final round without my magic, but I wanted to find out.

  Sig examined me, seeming to consider his words before finally shaking his head. "I'm not sure what to think. In some ways, you're better than I would've thought possible. In others, you're worse than I remember."

  "Such as?" I asked, already having an idea what he meant.

  "Your strikes are lightning-fast, and you're slippery as hell. You're much better at dodging or parrying, and you understand reach, timing, and how to dictate pacing. And you've added something. Feints? Flourishes? Either way, they're distracting. Confusing."

  I nodded. "One of my teachers at the Academy had a preference for adding misdirection and unorthodoxy to her magic. I felt it might help my martial skills as well."

  "It does, but there's a trade-off," Sig countered. "You leave yourself open too much. Nothing immediately fatal, but enough that a skilled opponent could wear you down. Too many of your moves are wasteful and inefficient. But the biggest problem is that footwork."

  His face hardened. "It's a mess. I told you a hundred times that good footwork is key. Move in and out but always stay balanced. Sturdy. You're too light, and your movements are odd. You'd never be able to exert any real leverage."

  "But?" I pressed.

  "But you're not an idiot, so there's a reason for it."

  I considered how to answer the unasked question, then replied, "Can we go again? First to three, but with magic. I think a demonstration would work better than an explanation."

  Sig's mouth curled into a frown, but he nodded. "Alright."

  I took a few steps back, drawing on my Aether and splitting it into fourths. Three of those settled into my Arcane Armor, Arcane Body, and Flicker Step spells, while the fourth settled around me like a great cloak. I hadn't practiced the last one enough to perfect it, but it was good enough for a short demonstration.

  If Sig sensed my preparations, he gave no indications. Instead, he settled into a ready stance, staff up and out, met my eyes, and nodded once.

  I was in front of him in a blur of green and black. His eyes widened, his staff rising to strike me, but it moved as though through water. I could have met his attack with my own weapon, but instead I leaned out of the way and allowed it to miss me by an inch.

  His follow-up attacks fared no better, and I dodged a handful of combinations before thrusting out and stabbing him in the sternum. The strike, pulled back though it was, still hit hard enough to drive him back a step.

  Sig rubbed his chest with one hand, then nodded. "First point to you."

  We reset, and I closed again with another Flicker Step. However, I had only barely landed before I moved again, rotating left faster than most humans could track. Sig must have seen the movement and swung his staff in my direction, but I ducked under the wide slash, rising and hitting his hip with a quick strike.

  "Two," Sig said, wincing as he stepped away again.

  On the third round, Sig pressed the attack. He came at me, moving with the economy and precision of a trained warrior. I saw him coming, the Aether flowing through me stronger than ever, and as he swung hard for my shoulder, I purposefully lowered my guard and straightened. His eyes widened, but he'd already committed and couldn't pull the strike enough to stop it.

  His staff cracked into my shoulder with enough force to bruise bones. It was the kind of blow that might even break something, and would certainly be enough to disable my arm for at least some time. Clearly, Sig wanted to teach me a lesson.

  I felt absolutely nothing. My Arcane Armor and strengthened body were enough to mitigate nearly the entirety of the blow, but the force magic I had used to root myself in place ensured that I didn't move so much as a hairsbreadth from the attack.

  Sig's staff wasn't as lucky. One-third of it cracked and flew away, clattering along the floor. The rest carried through, though to Sig's credit, he stopped himself with barely a stumble.

  I saw the moment when he realized what had happened. Sig straightened, lowering his weapon and staring at me.

  "Three," I said. "So, what do you think?"

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