Reborn With A Technology System In A Fantasy World-Chapter 47: Training Session (2)

Before Adrian could dwell further, Karl bounded over, his spear now resting against the wall.

"Let’s do this, roomie!" he said with his usual grin.

Adrian ignored him and was about to refute, but he truly had no reason not to agree. So he just placed aside his mana gun and stood beside Karl. freёweɓnovel.com

The other knights paired up quickly, most gravitating toward those they knew.

After the pairing was done, Master Von stepped to the center, his presence silencing the room.

"I’m teaching you basic fist-fighting techniques today. There’ll be no fancy martial arts as those require Qi, and you won’t touch that until you Ascend. For now, you learn the basics of hand-to-hand combat. It’s raw, it’s brutal, and it’ll keep you alive when your weapons fail."

"Hand-to-hand combat is all about discipline. It’s about control over your body, your mind, your fear. Without discipline, you’re just flailing. The fundamentals come down to four aspects: stance, movement, striking, and defense. Master these, and you’ll stand a chance."

Von stopped, planting his feet firmly on the ground. "First, stance. Everything starts here. A good stance grounds you, keeps you balanced, lets you react. Without it, you’re a target."

He demonstrated, bending his knees slightly, feet shoulder-width apart, one foot forward. His weight shifted forward, his hands raised loosely near his chest.

"This is the foundation. Your legs are your roots, your core is your strength. Keep your chin tucked, eyes up and ever lock your knees."

He gestured for them to copy. "Do it. Now."

The knights scrambled to mimic him, their movements awkward.

Adrian bent his knees, trying to match Von’s posture, but his legs wobbled, still sore from the run.

The dojo was a mess of uneven postures, and Von’s frown deepened.

He walked among them, correcting with quick, firm nudges.

"You, loosen your knees. You’re not a statue."

"Wider stance, or you’ll fall over."

"Hands up, unless you want a broken jaw."

When he reached Adrian, he pushed his shoulder down. "Lower your center, boy. You’re swaying like a branch."

Adrian adjusted, his muscles straining to hold the pose. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he focused, determined not to falter.

Von circled back, his voice sharp. "Again. Reset. Do it right."

The group groaned but obeyed, resetting their stances. This time, they were better — less shaky and more aligned.

Minutes dragged with them repeating the stance over and over, as their muscles burned and they were all already getting a hang of it and now it didn’t feel so unnatural anymore.

Finally, Von clapped once. "Enough. Next, let’s go to striking."

"You’ve got the stance. Now we move to striking. A punch isn’t just your fist. It’s your whole body working together. Legs, hips, shoulders — everything. Your stance is the root. It channels the force, keeps you steady and lets you explode with power."

He planted his feet, knees bent, one foot forward, just like the stance he’d drilled into them. His hands hovered near his chest, loose but ready.

"Watch," he said, his tone commanding. He shifted his weight to his back leg, then pushed off, his hips twisting and his shoulders rotating.

His fist snapped out in a jab, the air cracking with the force. It was fast, sharp, like a whip cracking, though he hit nothing.

He reset, then threw a cross, his body turning, the punch driving through an invisible target. The motion was fluid, each part of him moving in sync — legs pushing, core tightening, arm extending.

"Your stance is your foundation," he said, pausing to let the words sink in. "It keeps you balanced so you don’t fall when you strike. It lets you move the force from the ground up. Start with your feet. Push off the back foot, pivot the front. Your hips turn first, then your shoulders. Your fist is just the end of the chain. If you just use your arm, you’re weak. Use your body, you’re a weapon."

He demonstrated again, slower this time. His fist shot out, stopping short, but the power was clear in the tension of his frame.

"See that? The power starts here," he said, tapping his foot. "It flows through your core, out your arm. Your stance holds it together. Without it, you’re off-balance, and your punch is nothing."

He gestured to the group. "Face the air. Try it. Jab first. Slow. Get the movement."

The knights spread out, feet shuffling on the dojo floor. Adrian adjusted his stance, knees bent, one foot forward, hands up.

His legs still ached from the run, but he focused, picturing Von’s form. He shifted his weight to his back foot, trying to feel the ground beneath him.

He pushed off, twisting his hips, letting his shoulders follow. His fist moved out in a jab, but it felt clumsy, too slow, like his arm was disconnected from the rest. He frowned, resetting his stance to try again.

The dojo filled with the soft sounds of movement — feet sliding, breaths huffing, fists cutting the air.

Some punches were sharp, others wobbly, the knights struggling to coordinate. A few leaned too far, their stances breaking.

Others forgot to pivot, their punches flat and weak. Adrian’s second jab was better, his hips turning a bit more, but it still lacked the snap Von had shown.

Von walked among them, his eyes sharp. "Push off the back foot," he said, stopping by one knight.

"You’re not stepping, just shifting." He tapped another’s hip.

"Turn here first. Your arm’s too early." He reached Adrian and adjusted his stance, nudging his back foot. "Ground yourself. Feel the floor. Then twist."

Adrian nodded and tried again. This time, he pressed his foot down, twisted his hips, and threw the jab. It felt sharper, the force flowing better, though still not perfect.

"Again," Von said, his voice firm. "Jab. Cross. Feel the rhythm."

The knights reset, their stances steadier now. Adrian focused, planting his feet. For the jab, he pushed off his back foot, hips turning, shoulders following, fist snapping out.

It was smoother, the motion connecting. He reset, then tried a cross. His back foot pivoted, his body turned, and his fist drove forward, the punch stronger, more solid.

He felt the force travel from his legs through his core, a spark of excitement rising. It wasn’t Von’s level, but it was progress.

The group kept going, punches filling the air. Some were getting it, their jabs and crosses sharp, their stances holding firm. Others stumbled, but they only kept on trying again.

After several minutes had passed, Von had judged that they were all ready to move on, so he stopped them.

"Now, defense. A good fighter doesn’t just hit — they survive."

He showed a basic block, raising his forearms to shield his face. "Keep your elbows in, hands high. Absorb the hit, don’t fight it. Like this."

He had a knight throw a slow punch, deflecting it with ease. "You’ll also slip — move your head, not your feet. Watch."

He demonstrated, leaning slightly to dodge an imaginary strike. "Combine these. Block, slip, strike. That’s the rhythm." He paired them again. "One punches, one defends. Slow at first. Go."

Adrian and Karl faced off. Karl threw a slow jab, and Adrian raised his arms, blocking. The impact jolted his sore muscles, but he held firm.

"Karl threw another. Adrian slipped this time, his head tilting, Karl’s fist grazing past. He countered with a jab, catching Karl’s palm.

The pairs worked, punches and blocks echoing.

Von watched. "Faster now! Keep the rhythm!"

The pace picked up, punches snapping, blocks thudding. Adrian’s breath came in gasps, but he matched Karl’s tempo, slipping a cross and landing a jab multiple times.

After over an hour of the relentless cycle, the room’s attention was grabbed by a clear sound that gave them hope.

~DING—DONG~

Adrian, like many others heaved a sigh of relief after hearing the bell and fell on the ground. Just before Adrian could catch his breath, he heard a notification that made him grin with excitement.

[Congratulations! New Skill Acquired: Basic Fist Fighting Technique]