Chapter 3: Boxing with Bare Hands
A cold breeze whispered through Bamor, bringing the delicate fragrance of winter's first snowfall mixed with the earthy scent of freshly fallen flakes.
As dawn's first light touched the village, animals stirred from their slumber, their rustles a soft prelude to the day. The farmers rose with the sun, a quiet buzz of excitement in the air as they anticipated their work.
The church's courtyard, which was in the center of the village, came to life as modest cottages with thatched roofs glistened with morning dew and snow.
An old tunnel entrance stood at the edge of the square among weathered cobblestones. The children feared it because it stood silent witness to the village's past.
Near the entrance, two young men, around fourteen years old, huddled cautiously.
"You good, buddy?" Brian grinned, slinging his arm around Asdras' shoulder.
It had been about a year and a half since the priest found Asdras. During this time, he accepted that he couldn't remember anything about his past.
Over the months, their friendship blossomed. They worked well together; one was reserved, and the other concocted wild schemes, often landing them in trouble.
"U-hum!" Asdras pondered seriously.
Memories of their last mischievous venture flashed before them. Their scheme had failed, leaving them sweeping endless mounds of dust in the old church from dawn until dusk.
Intricately woven lines and snares crisscrossed the ground before them, almost imperceptible if not carefully observed.
As the priest approached, humming a melody, he paused in contemplation.
With every calculated step, his keen eyes scanned the ground, noting the subtle corners and gaps among the barrels, wood sticks, and the weapon rack.
Using his support stick, he navigated the maze with a knowing smile. The boys, watching from their hidden spot, sighed in disappointment.
"C'mon boys, clean this up before training," Joe called, looking around for their faces.
As fate would have it, a group of children followed the priest. Running in front, a hooded boy spotted the priest.
Between the warning and the quick legs moving ahead, the trap sprang to life, snagging his foot and hurling him upwards before he crashed to the ground.
Laughter spread as the kid stumbled into the wood sticks and broken barrels. A bucket teetered on the edge of a shelf before tipping over, unleashing a torrent of icy, foul-smelling liquid, turning giggles into nauseous coughs.
"Dang it, Brian, Asdras, I'll give y'all a piece of my fists," the boy yelled between retches.
"No hard feelings, Luca," Brian mumbled with a sheepish smile, coughing softly.
"Shame! Such a shame!" Joe coughed. "Brian, Asdras, you know what to do after training. Mopping and cleaning this courtyard, and no breakfast!"
Asdras sighed, wondering if his life would have been better in the wilderness.
"Luca, head down to the river and freshen up," Joe advised, his eyes softening briefly before hardening as he turned back to the group.
"The rest of you, gather 'round. We're heading to the open field. Today, we're gonna learn about fighting with bare hands."
"Brian, you ol' rascal!" a girl pointed accusingly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Using that yellow herb trick again, huh?"
"Who, me? Nah, it was all him!" Brian pointed at Asdras, feigning innocence.
"We all know whose idea it was!" The group erupted in laughter, and even the priest chuckled at their antics.
Along the way, they greeted parents and acquaintances with warm smiles and playful banter, joking about Brian's tricks and Luca's luck.
The morning air was filled with the scent of freshly brewed tea and sizzling ham streaming from the pub's chimney.
As they walked, they passed the village shepherd tending his flock, and the young ones couldn't resist petting the fluffy lambs, which provided warm clothes for the harsh winter.
The shepherd grinned upon hearing about his son, Luca.
"Teachin' him well, ol' Joe," he said, waving his crook as he watched his herd.
In peaceful times, he might have been angry, but since the last Eruption, the North had plunged into chaos with dark cultists, bandits, and monsters. Now, anger seemed a luxury he could no longer afford. He welcomed the church's harsh training and the mischief targeting his son.
Their path led to an open field where the dark brown earth felt soft underfoot. The group formed a large circle around the priest.
Asdras took his time to look over the village. The houses, made of clay and straw, nestled together, their thatched roofs blending with the snow.
Asdras wondered if his family lived in a small town or a big city, and if they were still alive, waiting for him.
"Would they seek me?" He murmured under his breath.
"Today," Joe began, his voice matching his serious expression. "We'll learn the art of self-defense with our bare hands. This knowledge is crucial because you never know when you might be without a weapon."
He scanned the group, pondering who to choose to demonstrate the moves. Since the last great war, the church had devoted resources to training priests in fighting and survival skills.
Amidst the tumultuous events across the continent, the Saint Rose Church intensified training in villages and towns. Collaborating with the Academy and the military, they focused on teaching essential, practical skills.
"You, come forth," he said with a knowing nod, selecting a sturdy boy with a resolute countenance. "Now, punch me!"
His eyes darted nervously from the priest's stern face to his firm stance. With a hesitant breath, he threw a tentative punch, watching in awe as the priest deftly dodged with a nimble sidestep.
"Y'see," the old man remarked with a kind smile. "Self-defense isn't about being strong as an ox; it's about finding balance and using the right technique. Let me show you."
He positioned the boy and himself carefully, their stances mirroring one another. He explained the importance of core balance, leg anchoring, and the precise moment to evade and counter-attack.
Though nearly seventy years old, he moved with a graceful fluidity resembling a boxer's, without the typical jabs and hooks. Instead, it was a dance of balance, control, and finesse.
Brian mimicked the movements, while Asdras pondered with a distant look. Fighting felt familiar yet distant to him. Since he had arrived in the village, they regarded him as the best fighter.
For Asdras, the only explanation was instinct. Brian thought it was craziness, recalling the dead leopard found over his body, which drove him to train harder.
Joe deduced that Asdras's family could be from a great city since his movements showed a higher level of skill, where basic attacks had purpose rather than being predictable.
"Find your spots, everyone," the priest said, wiping his sweat. "Now, grab a partner, and let's start practicing. One of you will be the attacker, and the other the defender. If you can't decide who goes first, just thumb-wrestle for it!"
"Hey, buddy," Brian grinned, slapping his friend on the back. "How 'bout we quit jawing and have a little spar, just for fun?"
"Sure," Asdras chuckled, giving his friend a playful shove. "But don't cry when you're nursing bruises."
They faced each other, eager to test their newfound skills.
Asdras assumed a balanced stance, allowing him to bob and weave easily. Brian adopted a more aggressive posture.
With a sly glint in his eyes, Brian playfully kicked dust at Asdras, grinning as he launched a jab at his friend's face.
Asdras sidestepped Brian's punch, ducking under his arm to tap his back lightly.
"Too slow," Asdras teased.
Undeterred, Brian countered with a swift jab that sliced through the air, narrowly missing Asdras's shoulder.
"C'mon, are you a sheep or a wolf?" Asdras shot back, his eyes sparkling, as he landed a solid kick on Brian's torso.
Joe observed his group of youngsters engaged in lively mock battles. Their laughter filled the training grounds. With a hearty clap, Joe captured their attention.
"Alright, young ones," he called out.
"That's all for today. Wrap up your training and head back to your quarters to freshen up. The Deliverer will arrive tonight."
Excited murmurs erupted among the children as they eagerly anticipated the Deliverer's arrival, their eyes shining with anticipation.
"Finally!" Brian hollered, jumping. "Fresh tales to hear!"
"Hey," Joe said, approaching Asdras and Brian. "You both know your tasks, right?"
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