Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (130/?) WiP 1

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 130 I hope you guys enjoy! :D

It all happened blisteringly fast.

Though not without some form of warning.

“En garde!” Thalmin bellowed ferociously, barely a second after I nodded at what I first assumed was just a suggestion — a preamble before the ground rules were laid out.

I should’ve expected nothing less from a sparring match though. 

But honestly, it was just as well that this was sudden and abrupt.

Real life rarely gave you any signs or warnings, if any, after all.

I could feel my training kicking into action, adrenaline coursing through me as the lupinor charged forwards following a solid kick of mana radiation warnings.

My breath hitched.

Then, I darted left. 

I just barely dodged his first attack, avoiding the glint of the longsword as it swept past my helmet, while a loud whooshing audibly swooshed past my right audio sensors.

Time slowed to a crawl right at that moment as he sped past—

[ALERT]

—only for several things to happen in rapid succession.

One — a solid grip around my right wrist.

Two — a forced twisting motion of my right arm, pinning it against my back.

And three — a blunt jabbing pressure against my left flank. 

I barely had time to process even a fraction of the sensations, let alone what happened. 

“Not prepared?” The lupinor chuckled, taking a moment to savor his victory, or more specifically, to point out exactly what had happened. “Perhaps you’re still stuck in the mindset of the Crimson Waltz, but let it be known that merely dodging an active combatant doesn’t at all guarantee survival following the first strike.” 

Thalmin reiterated this by jabbing the guard of his sword against my flank some more. 

“Lesson number nine of the Havenbrockian Knights Codex: Always keep your opponent in front of you. To face an opponent at a disfavorable stance, is still preferable to losing sight of an opponent, or worst of all, allowing an opponent to take up positions behind you.” 

The lupinor prince let go of me following that, as I nodded firmly in response. 

“I admit, I wasn’t really ready yet, but that’s as much my fault as anything.” I acknowledged.

“Indeed. One must always be ready for a fight at a moment’s notice.”

“And I was probably overlying on you for that, EVI.” I admitted under a muted mic, moreso to myself than the EVI.

It was at this point that one of Aunty Ran’s parting lessons came to mind, one that rang louder than before at this exact instance.

… 

“You’re going to have to react quicker when dealing with real world situations, Emma.”  

“Power armor and exoskeletons enhance your reflexes.” I recalled arguing back, frustrated at her antics at being ‘too serious’ in our impromptu training sessions. 

“And both can fail. More than that, all it does is it augments your reflexes. You need some good ones to start out with, otherwise it makes the gap between skill and projected abilities that much more jarring.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I am.”

It was that response that threw me off more than any other, as the facade of her invincibility dropped on that day, if only to hammer home the blunt truths of war if I were to decide to follow in her footsteps. 

“Whether you go LREF or TSEC, ship or power armor, there’s no one in command but yourself. A VI, construct, and program is only as useful as the operator that wields it, and it can’t multiply your capabilities if you’re multiplying by a skillset of zero.” She stated bluntly. “Over-relying on them can lead to an atrophy of your own abilities before you even get off the ground. I, along with everyone else in my company understands this intrinsically, but only after we learned it the hard way.” I recalled her pausing, allowing me to just take that in for a moment. “I don’t want you to learn it the same way we did, because not all of us were fortunate enough to learn that lesson in time.” 

…

“But don’t be so down about it, Emma.” Thalmin suddenly pulled me out of my reverie, slapping me hard on my shoulder. “Consider it a much needed warm up.” He quickly added with a smile. 

With a nod of acknowledgement from my end, the prince quickly took a few steps back, all the while keeping a solid grip on the hilt of his sword. 

“So… are you ready for the next round?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Thalmin.” I offered, pulling out my knife, but finding the prince had just as quickly leaped in my direction this time around.

The man flew forward with a speed and finesse that was more than difficult to counter, forcing me to move and dodge, all the while trying every way to make contact with his blade.

Though this proved more difficult said than done.

As the wolf seemed to read my every move, stepping in to fill the empty spaces left in my wake, and keeping me constantly and consistently on my toes.

I struggled to coordinate and counter what was in effect two distinct battles happening at once, one with his physical form commanding the motions of the battle, and the other being his actual offensive thrust — the movements of his upper body and sword.

Each swing felt smooth, planned, yet remained unpredictable in their approach. 

Frustration grew as each time I thought I’d figured out a pattern or some logic in his attack, I found him moving seamlessly into another, completely circumventing my attempts at working up an appropriate counter to his moves. 

From heavy thrusts that forced me to dart left and right, to overhead slashes that pushed me into ducking and weaving, to these grand, swooping, cutting motions that I’d assumed was reserved only for one of those giant Zweihanders…

I ended up not winded, but disoriented by the constant flow of the battle, finding myself doing ‘catch up’, as we ended up lapping once, twice, then thrice along the entire perimeter of the room.

Then, at about the third round, I noticed it.