Asterix sighed.
It was childish behavior.
At least, that's what he thought.
Valen was smart, and his mother had always repeated the rules:
"Reserve your heart for a noble."
"Reserve your heart for a noble."
"Reserve your heart for a noble."
Yet, he had acted the same way.
Should I tell Rhyla? Asterix wondered.
As Valen left his field of view, Asterix turned to Sera, staring at her.
He shook his head in a way that made his message obvious.
Stay away.
He hadn't expected to find this problem on the training field.
Well, at least I found the problem… Kill it before it grows.
He turned his attention toward the sweaty Liam and approached.
"Lord Liam," he said.
He added 'Lord,' which he normally wouldn't bother with, there wasn't much point in using it anyway.
Liam was going to lose.
He was going to be thrown out of House Maddach.
He would be forgotten.
He would cease to exist from memory, reduced to nothing more than a cautionary tale a noble gone wrong.
He would become the prime example of what not to do for all the noble parents who wanted their children to succeed.
And Valen would be Baron.
Or maybe… even God Emperor.
Asterix continued, "Lord Jorvik is waiting for your spar. I'll escort you to the training hall."
Liam nodded, taking a few deep breaths to regain his energy.
His body was sore, but if he managed his energy properly and used his time efficiently, he wouldn't just learn how Jorvik fought—
He'd learn how to beat him… by making sure Jorvik was underprepared.
As he followed Asterix into the building, David continued handing him towels to dry himself, then passing the used ones to Sera.
She had to hide her disgust as she handled them.
If she didn't, her expression would have soured completely.
I have to be careful not to show my cards too early… Liam thought.
He scratched his chin, analyzing what moves he should use in the spar.
Light jabs, maybe?
But if he used his fist…
I might break them.
His fists were weak.
He had only practiced on a soft punching bag.
He wasn't sure if they were ready for a real hit.
If he broke his fist before the real fight, it would be a massive disadvantage.
A kick, then?
No… He couldn't do that either.
With his weight, the only effective kick he could use was a front kick.
And that move was mainly used in mixed martial arts to stop an opponent from closing the distance.
Other than that, it would only be useful if the opponent was too close, hitting their knee or stomach.
But Liam wasn't fast enough for that, which meant he could only use it defensively.
And if he used it now, Jorvik would prepare for it and find a way to counter.
No kicks, then… Wrestling, perhaps?
Maybe…
Liam had studied the martial arts of this world.
They were decent at striking.
But when it came to grappling…
It was borderline horrible.
If he used wrestling, he wouldn't hurt himself, and it might be the perfect strategy for the spar.
No, it's too good…
Wrestling would be the one thing that set him apart from the other fighters in this world.
If he revealed his trump card during sparring, Jorvik would expect it in the real match.
Jorvik would throw punches while staying out of reach.
And Liam wouldn't get another chance to grapple.
No… I can lose in the spar. It doesn't matter. I have to ensure that I win the real match.
He tried to recall a way to solve this problem.
There was one clear solution.
"Bas Rutten! Of course!"
Bas Rutten was an MMA champion across nearly every promotion.
At his time, he was the most advanced fighter in existence.
For years, he was considered unbeatable.
And unlike most MMA fighters, he never had to worry about breaking his fists.
Because he didn't use them.
He knocked people out with slaps.
He used the palm of his hand—
A move that looked deceptively harmless—
Yet, most of his knockouts came from what seemed like an ordinary slap.
Liam smiled as he looked at his palm.
Palm strike it is.
They reached the training hall.
The floor was made of polished bamboo, soaked in red dye.
As Liam followed Asterix inside, his eyes scanned the walls.
The hall was decorated with images of House Maddach fighters.
A few knights who had represented the House.
And several nobles.
The most recognizable among them was Baron Gorath Maddach, whose portrait was drawn onto a flag—his waist adorned with a large golden belt.
"Are you ready?"
Jorvik's voice snapped Liam's attention forward.
"I am."
Liam nodded, spreading his hands open.
Jorvik clenched and unclenched his fists, preparing for the spar.
Pacing around the room, Jorvik stretched his back and bounced lightly to warm up his legs.
Liam was still trying to gather his breath.
He easily ran out of stamina.
A weakness he needed to fix.
He didn't want to show too much.
But he also didn't want to be beaten so badly that he ended up injured before the real fight.
As he moved around, he realized.
There was sweat.
Not his.
Jorvik's.
Despite being drenched in his own sweat, Liam still felt disgusted walking through someone else's.
At least I clean mine…
Asterix stepped between them.
"Remember, this is not the real fight."
"Both of you may spar as much as you want, just make sure to follow the rules."
"You may begin."
"Whoo…"
Liam let out a deep breath, circling Jorvik, waiting for him to attack.
But Jorvik…
Didn't raise his guard.
Perhaps a bait.
Liam raised his hands anyway.
Just in case.
But as he took another step to the right—
His legs slipped.
His hand dropped.
His palm shot forward, fast—
Straight into Jorvik's chin.
And then—
His chest.
BOOM.
Jorvik's head snapped back as his brain collided with his skull.
His vision blackened instantly.
His body ragdolled to the ground.
Flat on his back.
"God…" Asterix's mouth hung open.
He slapped him down…
Like an ant.
Liam stood there, equally shocked.
I guess the weight difference really does help, huh?
Liam was many times heavier than Jorvik.
He had initially thought Jorvik's mana would equalize the advantage.
But looking at the knocked-out Jorvik…
Clearly, that wasn't the case.
But he knew how he knocked him out, by hitting the chin, which was the go-to move for many MMA champions. And although he did it by accident, it still did the job.
Asterix and David, however, did not know that.
From their point of view, they simply saw Liam slapping Jorvik down.
'I'm keeping my job!!!' David screamed inwardly.
His face stretched into an incredibly wide smile before he quickly forced it into a more controlled, neutral one—
To avoid offending Asterix.
The Knight, however, wasn't even looking at him.
His gaze remained locked onto Jorvik.
Like an ant…
Then, slowly, his attention moved toward Liam.
Without another word, he turned and left the hall.
His footsteps were heavy.
His thoughts, even heavier.
'Rhyla was right…'
'How could I be so dumb?!'
'When has she ever been wrong?!'
He took one last glance at Liam—
The image of him slapping Jorvik down lingered in his mind.
Like an ant…