Chapter 53 – The First Lesson
The air inside the chamber was thick with silence. The faint glow of lanterns flickered against the stone walls, casting shifting shadows that seemed to breathe with life. Lyrian stood a few paces away from Varos, his body tense, his mind racing.
He had come seeking strength.
Not just strength—understanding.
Varos had already shattered his previous notions about battle arts. Now, Lyrian was about to take his first step toward something greater.
The Transcendent instructor observed him with unreadable eyes. His posture was relaxed, yet there was an unmistakable weight in the way he stood, as if the space itself bent around his presence.
"You seek power," Varos said finally. "But power without understanding is nothing more than a burden. Before I teach you anything, you must understand a simple truth."
He took a slow step forward, his voice steady.
"A warrior who cannot think for himself is a corpse waiting to fall."
Lyrian's brow furrowed. "You're saying that skill matters more than raw strength?"
Varos exhaled. "Not quite. Strength is important, but it is not absolute. Many believe that the one with greater mana, the one with the sharper blade, or the one with the deadliest technique will always win. But I have seen battles where the weakest emerged victorious, and the strongest lay dead in the dirt."
Lyrian's grip tightened at his sides. "Then what determines victory?"
Varos raised a single finger. "One thing—Adaptability."
Lyrian's breath caught.
"Every battle is chaos," Varos continued. "You can master a hundred techniques, but what happens when you're faced with something you've never seen before? What happens when an opponent breaks all the rules you thought were set in stone?"
He tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze holding Lyrian in place.
"If you rely only on what you know, you will die the moment you face the unknown."
Lyrian swallowed. It made sense. Too much sense.
He thought back to his previous battles—the tournament, the fights in the simulation, and his encounter with the Abyssal Tyrant. He had always relied on pushing forward, using sheer will and instinct. But what if that wasn't enough?
Varos motioned to the open floor. "Before you can create your own battle art, you must first learn to see battle for what it is."
Lyrian stepped forward, ready.
"Show me how you would counter this."
Varos moved.
It wasn't a strike. It wasn't an attack. It was a shift—a simple step to the side, but it felt as if the entire room had shifted with him.
Lyrian's eyes widened.
Then—Varos vanished.
No, he hadn't disappeared. His movement was so fluid, so precise, that for a moment, he seemed to have melted into the surroundings.
Lyrian barely had time to react before he felt a pressure against his back.
Varos stood behind him.
"You're too focused on what you can see," Varos said. "A battle is not just what's in front of you."
Lyrian spun, stepping back to gain distance. His instincts screamed at him—this wasn't a normal lesson.
"Again," Varos ordered.
This time, Lyrian braced himself. He watched everything. The shift of Varos' weight, the slight bend in his knee, the way his arms stayed relaxed.
Then—movement.
Lyrian reacted. He twisted to match Varos' angle, stepping to the side to avoid being flanked.
But Varos was faster.
The moment Lyrian moved, Varos adjusted, flowing like water. Within a blink, he was already behind Lyrian again.
A sharp tap on the shoulder.
"Dead," Varos stated simply.
Lyrian exhaled sharply.
"It's not enough to follow my movements," Varos continued. "You must understand why I move. Why I choose one step over another."
Lyrian clenched his fists. "Then tell me—how do I predict something I've never seen before?"
Varos nodded, as if waiting for that question.
"You don't."
Silence.
"You don't predict—you adapt in real-time."
He stepped forward, his voice carrying a quiet intensity.
"True battle isn't about reacting to what you think will happen. It's about feeling the flow of combat and adjusting accordingly."
Varos raised a hand, fingers slightly curved. "Most warriors fight with a set plan. They believe in their own techniques, in their own power. But plans fall apart the moment reality doesn't match expectations."
He let his hand drop.
"A man who only knows how to fight one way will die the moment that way fails."
Lyrian's thoughts raced.
"That's why mana alone isn't enough," Varos continued. "Many are born with overwhelming magical reserves, yet they still lose battles. Do you know why?"
Lyrian hesitated. "...Because they rely too much on it?"
Varos nodded. "Exactly. Mana is a tool, but it doesn't replace instinct. It doesn't replace wisdom. A mage with boundless mana but no battlefield awareness will die before he can cast a single spell. A knight with monstrous strength but no technique will be cut down by someone half his size."
Lyrian slowly nodded. "So it's not about having the strongest weapon… it's about knowing how to use it in any situation."
A slight smile touched Varos' lips. "Now you're starting to understand."
He took a step back and crossed his arms.
"You've been taught techniques. You've been trained to fight. But I will teach you how to craft your own battle art."
Lyrian's heartbeat quickened.
"The best warriors are not those who master a single style," Varos said. "It's those who can turn anything into a weapon. Who can fight in any environment, against any enemy, and still find a way to win."
His eyes sharpened.
"The first lesson starts now."