Chapter 54 – Breaking the Old Mindset
Lyrian lunged forward, blade in hand.
Varos barely moved.
With a simple step to the side, he avoided the strike entirely, his body shifting like a shadow. Lyrian barely had time to react before Varos flicked his wrist—an effortless motion—and sent Lyrian stumbling forward from his own momentum.
Gritting his teeth, Lyrian recovered and attacked again. A feint to the left. A real strike to the right. His blade cut through the air with speed—only to meet nothing but empty space.
Again.
He pivoted, aiming low, then twisting his body to strike upward, pushing his speed to the limit.
Still nothing.
Varos didn't block. Didn't parry.
He redirected.
Every motion Lyrian made was effortlessly countered—not through overwhelming force, but through precise, minimal movements that completely negated his attacks.
Frustration boiled in Lyrian's chest. He couldn't even touch him.
Was this what it meant to face a skilled warrior?
Was this the difference between knowing battle and mastering battle art?
Breathing heavily, he tightened his grip and rushed forward again. This time, he abandoned form entirely, throwing a series of rapid, aggressive strikes. Speed, strength, unpredictability— he poured everything into the attack.
Yet it didn't matter.
Varos was unshaken.
He met Lyrian's offense with calm precision. Not overpowering. Not matching. Just controlling.
Every time Lyrian moved, Varos was already ahead of him, shifting, adjusting, countering.
And then—
A subtle shift.
Lyrian took one step forward—only for his own momentum to be used against him. A firm grip twisted his balance, and before he knew it—
He was on the ground.
Lying there, staring up at the ceiling, he felt the weight of the lesson pressing down harder than any blow could.
"You are making the same mistake again," Varos said. His voice was calm, without mockery, but the truth in it stung.
Lyrian sat up, frustration in his eyes. "I tried to change my approach."
"But you still lack understanding," Varos replied. "You think speed will overwhelm me. That unpredictability will throw me off. But tell me, Lyrian—"
He crouched slightly, tapping the floor beside him.
"What happens when your opponent isn't fazed by raw speed? What happens when they predict your unpredictability?"
Lyrian's lips parted slightly, but no answer came.
Varos stood, his expression unreadable. "You do not need to be the fastest. You do not need to be the strongest. What you need—"
He gestured toward Lyrian's blade.
"—is control."
Lyrian slowly pushed himself up. He was listening now, truly listening.
Varos continued. "Battle art is not about attacking harder. Nor is it about reacting faster. It is about dictating the flow of battle."
He let those words settle before adding, "If you allow your opponent to control the rhythm, you have already lost."
Lyrian frowned. "Then how do I seize control?"
Varos studied him for a moment before giving a simple response:
"By understanding the principles beyond your blade."
A flick of his wrist, and suddenly—his stance changed.
It was subtle.
A shift in his weight. A slight adjustment of his posture.
But to Lyrian, it felt as though the entire battle had already changed before it even began.
Varos spoke again. "You rely too much on what you see. But battle isn't just seen. It is felt."
Lyrian exhaled sharply. "So, what now?"
"Now?" Varos raised a brow. "Now, you stop trying to 'fight' me. Instead, you learn how to create your own battle art."
Lyrian hesitated. "You mean—"
"Techniques can be taught. Styles can be copied. But the best warriors—they craft their own path."
Varos stepped back and gestured for Lyrian to prepare himself again.
"This time, don't just attack blindly. Feel the flow of battle. Read it. Control it."
Lyrian took a slow breath, steadying himself.
This time, he wouldn't fight the way he always had.
He would adapt.
He would learn.
Because in the end—
"Power is only as good as the hands that wield it. Skill, control, and adaptability—those are what define a true warrior."