Fisher stomped his foot into the concrete, and all six turned to look at him.  

“You and you!” he pointed to Silverado and Rakkire. “Get your weapons and stand over there. You and you: do the same and stand there.” This time, he pointed at Feral and Desperado.  

Servi realized what was coming next. With a sigh, she picked up her dropped weapon and walked over to Riki.

“Good. Now, we're going to have a few mock battles using the weapons I provided and your armor. That means you can’t use your shield. This is a way for me to see how you approach your opponent if you find yourself without it.” He explained and pointed to Silverado’s group. “You two will be going first. Everyone else, to me.” 

As Servi walked over to his side, she spoke quietly to Itarr. “That’s how a mentor is supposed to be. Not calling people maggots or forcing them to do ridiculous things.” 

I see. But still, I can’t think of Fisher as a proper one. Not after what all I’ve seen.  

Servi did nothing but sigh.

As she watched the two opponents get into position, a thought occurred to herself.  What she saw conflicted with the knowledge she had learned a month ago, and she said it out loud. “I thought Koena were opposed to using weapons? I thought they used their fists?”  

Desperado, the black Koena, answered her. “Some of my people like to fight that way. They believe using weapons cheapen the value of the essence of the Koena. I’m not one of them. The decision to use a weapon is not what makes a Koena closer to the Great Scaled Serpent in the sky. It is about the way you push yourself in the face of adversity.”  

“I see. Thanks, I didn’t know,” Desperado nodded.  He was happy he had the chance to spread his culture and personal beliefs to someone who wanted knowledge.  However, Servi’s head soon filled with even more questions. Itarr had the same ones.  

A Great Scaled Serpent in the sky? Is it a God like me? 

Servi shrugged.   

I assume you don’t know either? 

Servi nodded.  

I see.  

Servi nodded again and focused her eyes on the sparring match that was about to begin. Since they couldn’t use their shields, they sat them some distance away. Silverado had a small blunt club while the Dwarf he faced held a small hand axe.  

“Alright. Keep going until first blood is called, or you give up. We do have a medical team on standby, but if you need healing, then you fail the test. Being a tank means that you need to minimize the damage you take if you lose your shield. Remember, no skills. I want to see what you’re capable of physically. Skill and shield use will come later.”

Raising his leg, Fisher stomped the ground, and the two competitors started to move.  

Servi thought that Rakkire had the advantage when it came to overall fights. After all, being a Dwarf meant he was shorter and closer to the ground, and his muscles were toned, firm, and resilient. But in a competition like this, Servi thought that maybe being short was a disadvantage.  Rakkire would definitely lose on the reach, but perhaps he could make up for it in strength?

The five watching the fight stayed silent as the two continued to stare each other down. It was Rakkire who moved first. He took a low stance and crept forward before making a swiping motion with his hand axe. He aimed to attack the feet and legs of his opponent.

Silverado hopped up, avoiding the swipe and grinned. His club was in the air, and he swung it down. But Rakkire expected that his opponent would jump, and thus he transitioned into a roll. Silverado’s attack missed and slammed into the concrete. The blunt head of his weapon bounced up from the recoil. Rakkire spun the axe in his hand as he recovered.  

“Hmm,” growled Feral. He watched with closed eyes and listened to their grunts.

“What’s up, big guy?” Servi turned to look at him.

“The Dwarf had the perfect chance to take his opponent out, but he didn’t. If it was me, I would’ve turned and used my tail.” 

“But Dwarfs and Koena don’t have tails,” replied Servi.  

“Aye, the day my cousin grows a tail is the day I stop drinking. A Dwarf with a tail isn’t a Dwarf at all,” added Riki.  

“Hmm…” Feral growled in response, but Servi swore his green face had the tiniest hint of red. Was it possible for such a big guy to be embarrassed?  

Servi turned back to the fight. The two competitors were focused on taking down their opponent without seriously injuring the other. Even though it was a sparring match and they were opponents, they felt a sort of kinship. Everyone who was here, at this moment, was the tank for their group. They were expected to be at the front lines, taking and absorbing the damage in a way to minimize it so their allies could deal the finishing blow.

“Come on! Stop dallying around! Do you really think your opponent will wait for you to move?!” Fisher barked. He was really in the mentoring mood, and he did not remind Servi of the guy she wanted to kill.  

Maybe he really is taking this seriously. If only he could stay like this all the time. Servi uselessly pondered.  

“Whaddya say we finish this?” replied the Dwarf. He stood up and held his axe with both hands. The Koena did the same with his club and wordlessly nodded.  

Their two weapons collided when they rushed in. The strength of a Dwarf pushed against the force of a Koena, two races that were stronger than Humans and Elves but weaker than Kobolds, and neither side wanted to give up.

It seemed like it would be a stalemate, but Silverado stopped pushing.  

“Wha—” exclaimed the Dwarf as he fell forward. Silverado rolled to his back and grabbed Rakkire as he fell. Disarming him, he proceeded to slither around and took hold of Rakkire’s arm and pulled tight. His hand-axe fell to the ground some distance away, and Rakkire’s stubby arms couldn’t reach it.  

“Sorry, but I win,” Silverado grinned. Positioned on the Dwarf’s back, he had his left arm held up at an angle and was only a few small centimeters away from snapping it.  

“Aye, it’s my loss,” Rakkire tapped the ground using his spare hand, and Fisher stomped the concrete floor once more.  

“You both fail,” he promptly blurted out. Fisher pulled out a clipboard, paper, and a pen from his Dimensional Storage as he wrote his observations. Once he was finished, he explained what he meant.

“Silverado, you fell to your back and tried to disarm your opponent. That would be good against someone smaller than you. But you’re the tank. You always need to be on your feet and protect your party. Rakkire, you got disarmed. Your weapon is your last line of defense if you lose your shield. Next up, you two,” pointing to Feral and Desperado, the two made their way to the non-existent arena just as Silverado and Rakkire walked out.  

“Good work, you two,” Servi tried to complement the two, but she received a gruff grunt from Rakkire.

“It seems I have a lot to learn. I should approach every battle as if I was the last line of defense.  I think that’s what the Justice Captain was trying to teach us,” said Silverado. He looked down at his club and took a stance. His left hand was out in front of him, and he imagined he was blocking all kinds of attacks.  

“Go!” hearing Fisher yell and stomp, Servi turned back to the match. It was Desperado against Feral

When compared to his hands, Feral gripped a massive wooden club that looked like a toothpick, and Servi expected him to win. He had the reach and power behind him to probably break stone walls with a single punch. Desperado had chosen a blunt club as well.  

The match was over as soon as it began. How could it not be over? Feral had so much height on the Koena, and he had a long and thick tail he could use to attack. And that was what he did. He moved forward just a tiny bit while Desperado had his guard up and spun around.  

He was fast. Really fast. Something that big and strong couldn’t have been possible to turn so nimbly, but he did it. His tail collided with his opponent’s arm, and Servi heard a brutal crack before he cried out. But Desperado didn’t drop his weapon even as he slid across the hard floor. He somehow had the right state of mind to hold on to it.  

Just as Desperado was getting up off the floor, Fisher called the match.  

“It’s over. Feral, you pass. You used your tail against an opponent who didn’t have a sharp weapon. If he did, then there was a chance for your tail to be injured, and you would’ve failed. Good job using your strengths to your advantage. Desperado, you fail. Your opponent had a tail that was a natural weapon, and you unknowingly stepped into its range. Don’t try to block such an attack with your arm. Because of that, it’s broken, and you’ve lost half of your fighting strength. Even if you get to your shield, you only have one arm that works. Head to the medics and get healed, then come back." Fisher harshly criticized the results of the short-lived match.

I gotta say, it seems like he really knows his stuff. I don’t exactly know if he’s telling the truth, but he sounds so confident. Why is he doing this? If he’s the same Fisher I know and saw, then his attitude and way of acting are so different. It’s like they’re not the same person, Servi thought. If he wasn't fucked up, there was a chance she would have enjoyed learning from him.

Feral walked back to the group with his tail slamming against the ground. Desperado had an unpleasant look on his face combined with anger, regret, and sadness. He knew it was his fault he lost. But if the pain of a broken arm was what it took to become stronger and more knowledgeable, then he thought it was worth it.

“Finally! It’s my turn. I gotta say, I’m getting excited," Servi quipped. She didn’t know why, but it was like her blood boiled for a chance to fight. Dropping her shield to the ground, she picked up her sword she retrieved from the weapon shelf.  

“Don’t think it’s going to be so easy. I still haven’t accepted you as a student. Be sure to prove me wrong,” Fisher gave Servi a small warning. 

The words he spoke and the words he thought did not match in the least. He believed that only Humans should be allowed to rule the world. Anyone else belonging to a different race should grovel at humanity’s feet.  

But as the Captain of the Guard, he had to keep those thoughts deep down. Relationships between Demis and Humans were regressing, even if it barely showed on the surface.  

Even as he corrupted his mind with those dark thoughts, a tiny speck of light appeared within. Fisher Jin was a person. He had thoughts and feelings. Many different complex emotions made up his mind, and they determined how he lived and acted.  

And yet, here he was. He was mentoring five Demis and a Human because Governor Blasé forced him to take part. He was teaching those he hated, but he told himself it was so that they could use that knowledge to save Humans.  

People were bound to change based on who they kept as company. That was a solid fact of life. Take Momo as an example; a young girl who made her way to Canary to follow her in her grandpa’s footsteps. Now she was growing, both physically and mentally, because of Servi's support. Such acts of growth were not uncommon if one kept their eyes peeled.  

Getting into the agreed-upon-but-not-marked-out-ring, Servi stared her opponent down. Riki had a sword, just like she did.

Shall I stay out of it? 

Servi nodded.  

Very well. I’ll be cheering you on! 

Smiling, Servi activated Soul Essence of Primal Combat. She knew she was cheating, but she didn’t care. From what Servi saw in the past month, the world was a dangerous place. And she didn’t want to play by the rules of this little sparring match ran by her number one enemy. Besides, unlike most skills, Soul Essence of Primal Combat didn’t have a telltale sign of activating. It was entirely hidden, and she was going to rely on it.  

After her new mentor stomped his foot, Servi took a weird stance. Her sword was held perpendicular to her body, going left to right while her free hand was lying on the flat end of her blade. Her black hair slightly swayed as she kept her unblinking red eyes on her opponent.  

“What kinda stance is that?” Silverado asked.  

“I don’t know, but it is strange. I would not underestimate Servi. She’s the first outsider and Human to lift my shield. She is someone to watch out for,” Feral growled between his teeth.  

“That stance….she knows it?!” Fisher gritted through clenched teeth. He wasn’t angry but surprised. Very, very surprised. Unknown to Servi and the others, Fisher knew just how powerful that stance was. It was something he and Arnold learned a long time ago.  

Arnold was the man who Servi killed after meeting Itarr. While he wasn’t her first kill, that belonged to the monster bees, he was the first humanoid capable of speech that died by her hand. But he had it coming. His silver armor with the gold flower etched into it was a mockery. Such a beautiful symbol on gorgeous armor should not have been adorned by a man with an ugly soul and pitch-black heart.  

It was a memory that would never leave her mind. Arnold and Fisher were taking turns terrorizing Seka and Seko, a pair of Singi siblings that Servi healed and fed during her second nightly stroll. She saw it happen with her own two eyes on the day she woke up next to a forest. She had made her way to Canary and saw Arnold stab his weapon into Seko's foot, and she thought there was no need for her to understand the language to understand what was happening in front of her. Or was there? She didn't want to believe it was possible that what she saw was nothing less than the truth.

“Listen up," Fisher said, speaking in a rarely used voice. It was a dysphoric tone, reminding him of his past. “That stance is called the hand-over-blade. It relies on using precise and minute movements to deflect an incoming attack. Then you launch out with your free hand to disarm your opponent while they try to recover. It’s not unbeatable in group brawls, but it’s the best option in duels. But even just making a single mistake is enough to be seriously injured. To be honest, the risk is far greater than the reward. I don’t even use it anymore.”

Hmm... Perhaps I should... and just like that, Fisher’s opinion of the girl with black hair and red eyes changed again.

Riki made the first move. Holding his sword with both hands, he launched forward and began a brutal fury of swipes and slashes. Servi, following the afterimages, stayed in one place and carefully adjusted her right hand that held the hilt of her blade. Slightly bending it up for the first downward slash, then to the left and down for the follow-up diagonal slash. The two blades slid against each other, creating tiny sparks of light.

It wasn’t only Arnold’s soul that she channeled experience from. It was just the base that Servi's body used for the stance, but the other hundreds of souls contributed just as much. Their experiences and battles and even their training all flowed into Servi’s soul, engraving it. Improving it. Their pain and hardships were used to make her stronger. 

Next, Riki tried to change up and went for a left feint before suddenly thrusting forward. But Servi didn’t fall for it. Instead, she rotated her blade, still perpendicular, 69 degrees, so that Riki’s thrust slid down. During that moment where the two blades touched metal to metal, Servi shot out with her free hand, gripped into a fist, and punched Riki’s hand that held his weapon's handle.  

She broke three of his fingers, and she backed up when he cried out. Stilling holding her stance, she walked towards the immobilized Dwarf and thought about disarming him. Red images appeared in her mind, and she followed. The moment she got within two steps of her opponent, he switched to a one-handed stance and slashed wildly.  

But every single attack was deflected thanks to her hand-over-blade stance. Fisher could do nothing but stare in disbelief. 

 A moment later, the match was coming to a close. Riki went for another thrust followed by a kick, but he didn’t expect Servi to duck under both attacks. As she returned to her stance, he performed one more final, desperate attack, but Servi switched stances. She moved and slashed with both hands on the hilt of her sword and met Riki’s attack head-on. Her weapon cut cleaned through her opponent’s blade, and he was left with a useless sword less than half its original size.  

Taking advantage of his confusion, Servi kicked his knee, and he crumbled to the ground. Putting her sword to his neck, he smiled. “Aye, it’s your win.” 

She held her hand out, and he took it, using her as an anchor to get to his feet. “It was a good match, and I felt like I learned a lot, but what was that stance?” asked Riki as she helped him over to the group. She didn’t break his leg, but it was sent shocks of pain throughout his body.

It was a respect-worthy show of sportsmanship for two people who wished to become better tanks.  

“It was something I learned a while ago,” Servi lied as naturally as she breathed. Well, she didn’t need to inhale in the first place.  

“How interesting. You took all of my attacks head-on but deflected each one,” said Riki. The two then reached the group. She saw Desperado from the double doors, and he was walking back this way. He must’ve finished up being treated.  

“Riki, you fail. Don’t wildly commit to each and every attack. Servi, you pass. Your stance was something that was created for defense, and it showed when you deflected his attacks. But I have to dock points for meeting his sword head-on. As a tank, you have to defend and only go for attacks like that when necessary. You could’ve won by continuing to use the stance. Don’t take any sort of risk when you can help it.” 

Fisher then became quiet as he scribbled more on his paper. He kept sneaking glances at Servi, and she hated it. But before long, while the six of them conversed about the matches, he stomped into the floor again.  

“Desperado, Riki, and Rakkire, sit down and watch the upcoming match. Servi, Silverado, and Feral, grab your weapons and go into the ring.” After noticing he didn’t stomp, Servi and the two others went into the ring. The three that remained took a seat on the concrete and stared.  

Well, I didn’t expect it to go this way, but whatever. Fisher thought. His black armor sucked in the light from the sun beaming through the glass ceiling, but he wasn’t sweating. It seemed like he was used to such intense heat.  

“This is a three-way battle. Same rules as before,” after stomping his feet, the fourth battle of the day began.