Chapter 5: The Path of a Fighter

  The morning air was crisp, the scent of pine and damp earth filling the camp as Marcus woke, his muscles sore from the previous day’s training. The orcs had already risen, preparing their gear for the day. Vira stood near the camp’s edge, sharpening her sword, while Boruk and Ragn checked their weapons. Marcus stretched, moving toward them, each step reminding him of the bruises he’d earned in the training session.

  Vira approached, a bundle of weapons in her arms. She tossed it to the ground in front of him. “Pick your weapon,” she said. “You’ll need more than just your fists to survive out here.”

  Marcus unwrapped the cloth. Inside, he found an assortment of rough, worn weapons: a chipped axe, a bent sword, a rusty dagger, and a pair of spiked knuckle gauntlets. His gaze lingered on the gauntlets. They were simple but reminiscent of his boxing days.

  “These,” Marcus said, raising his hands. The gauntlets were made of metal plates with spikes welded onto them, fastened by leather straps. Not elegant, but they fit like a glove.

  Vira nodded. “Good choice. They’ll suit your style. Just remember, weapons are tools. Treat them well, and they’ll serve you better than bare hands.”

  Marcus tested their weight with a few jabs in the air. They were lighter than his old gloves but felt just as solid. He turned to Boruk and Ragn, who exchanged skeptical glances.

  “Problem?” Marcus asked.

  Boruk grunted, crossing his arms. “Not weird... just a bit naive. Anyone can fight with fists and legs. It’s instinctive. But real strength lies in weapon mastery.”

  Ragn added, “You’ll see soon enough. First, we need to visit the seer. You’ll need to understand how magic fits into your combat.”

  The elder’s tent smelled of sage and damp earth. Inside, the air was thick with strange energy, the flickering firelight casting long shadows over the shelves of jars filled with glowing liquids and odd bones. Marcus followed Vira in, ducking slightly to avoid the low entrance.

  “This place feels... intense,” Marcus muttered, taking in the peculiar artifacts.

  Vira’s voice was calm. “It’s normal. The seer is one of the most respected of our tribe. If anyone can help you unlock your magic, it’s her.”

  At the center of the tent sat an elderly orc woman, her pale green skin marked with deep wrinkles. Her milky eyes glowed faintly—sharp despite their cloudy appearance—and she wore a robe covered in symbols Marcus didn’t recognize.

  “Vira,” the seer rasped, her voice ancient but powerful. “And you’ve brought the outsider.” She turned her gaze to Marcus, her smile knowing. “Come, child. Sit before me.”

  Marcus hesitated but lowered himself to the small cushion in front of her. His broad frame made the space feel even smaller, but he settled, trying to mask his discomfort.

  The seer extended her hands, palms up. “Give me your hands.”

  Marcus placed his hands in hers. A jolt shot through him—like a static shock, but deeper, reaching his core. It felt as though she was probing inside him, testing something.

  “Interesting…” she murmured, closing her eyes. Her lips moved in a low hum, a sound that reverberated through the air. Marcus felt something unraveling within him, as if she were peeling back layers of his very being.

  When her eyes snapped open again, they were brighter, more intense. “Your affinity,” she whispered, awe in her voice, “is Mana. Strong and untamed.”

  Marcus blinked. Mana? But I can feel Ki and Psycha too. The system’s title, The Unseen One, must be masking my true abilities. He forced himself to stay calm.

  “That’s excellent,” Vira said, her voice upbeat. “Mana’s a versatile affinity. You’ll have many ways to approach combat.”

  The seer pulled her hands back and leaned back thoughtfully. “But... there’s something odd,” she added. “Your Mana is cloaked—hidden. Something veils it.”

  Marcus nodded, trying to appear unaffected. “Maybe it’s because I’m not from here. My connection to magic is still new.”

  The seer scrutinized him. “Perhaps. Your presence is unusual, and the system works in strange ways. But be cautious. Your path will not be like others. Walk it wisely.”

  Marcus smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Vira placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the exit. “We should go. Thank you, Seer.”

  As they left, Marcus kept his face neutral, but his mind raced. The title was hiding his true nature. But the seer’s warning unsettled him. What exactly is hidden inside me?

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  The orcs wasted no time putting Marcus through his paces. They led him to a clearing on the outskirts of the forest, where makeshift training dummies stood in uneven rows. The smell of sweat and earth lingered in the air, and the ground was worn from constant use.

  “This is where we hone our skills,” Yara said, gesturing to the training area. “Survival is more than just strength. You need control, technique, and strategy.”

  Marcus adjusted his gauntlets, which felt heavier now. No turning back now.

  “First, we work on Mana control,” Vira said, stepping forward. She held out her hand, and a small orb of blue light formed above her palm, swirling gently. “Mana flows through everything—air, earth, even your body. To use it, you need to feel it first, then channel it, and finally shape it.”

  She placed her hand on Marcus’s chest. “Focus on your breathing. Close your eyes and feel the energy inside you. It’s like a steady pulse.”

  Marcus closed his eyes, and at first, he felt nothing but his heartbeat. But then, a faint warmth began to stir in his veins. He focused on it, trying to draw it outward.

  “I think I feel it,” Marcus said, excitement creeping into his voice.

  Vira smiled. “Good. Now, imagine it flowing through your body and into your hands. Don’t force it—let it come naturally.”

  Marcus extended his hand, and a faint flicker of light appeared above his palm. It sputtered out quickly.

  “Not bad for a first try,” Vira said. “It’ll take time, but you’re on the right track.”

  An hour later, Boruk and Ragn took over to teach Marcus combat techniques.

  “Your stance is solid,” Boruk said, eyeing Marcus as he squared up against a training dummy. “But a fight isn’t a boxing match. It’s chaotic. You need to be unpredictable. Use everything around you.”

  “Show me,” Marcus said, raising his fists.

  Boruk smirked, hefting his axe. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  The two sparred, Boruk holding back at first to gauge Marcus’s skill. Marcus weaved and landed quick strikes, but Boruk was a seasoned fighter. Marcus learned quickly that instinct alone wasn’t enough.

  “You’ve got good instincts,” Boruk said after a quick exchange of blows. “But you need to think ahead. Use your environment and your opponent’s momentum.”

  Boruk swung his axe in a deliberate arc. Marcus sidestepped, landing a punch to the orc’s ribs. That felt good.

  “That’s better!” Boruk roared with approval. “Now, let’s see how you handle a real challenge.”

  Training continued for hours. Marcus experimented with channeling Ki into his movements. It was subtle at first—just a slight increase in speed and power. But as he gained confidence, he pushed further, enhancing his strikes and footwork, making them sharper, faster, almost supernatural.

  The orcs noticed.

  “Your style’s different,” Yara said after a sparring session. “You’re blending physical skill with something else. What is it?”

  Marcus hesitated. He didn’t want to reveal too much. “Just a mix of techniques from my world,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

  Yara didn’t press further, but she was clearly intrigued.

  By the end of the day, Marcus was drenched in sweat, his muscles aching from exertion. But he felt stronger, more focused. Sitting by the fire, he reviewed his progress:

  Level: four, to five

  Experience Gained: three-hundred and fifteen...Combat Training and Sparring.

  Stat Points Available: ten.

  A smile crept across Marcus’s face. He was starting to feel like a fighter again.

  When the group felt that Marcus- had enough for the day, Vira called everyone to head back...

  The trek back to camp was tense. The forest was eerily silent—the usual hum of insects replaced by a heavy, unnatural stillness.

  “Something’s wrong,” Marcus muttered, his voice low.

  “Stay close,” Vira ordered, drawing her training sword.

  “Yara says there’s danger up ahead.”

  “Danger?” Marcus raised a brow. “I thought these were your lands. Shouldn’t your tribe have things somewhat... tamed?”

  “Normally, yeah,” Vira said, eyes scanning the shadows. “But lately, it’s been different. Monsters attacking where they usually don’t, strange breeds showing up, high-level variants roaming outside dungeons... It’s been weird for months.”

  She tightened her grip on her sword. “Because of all that, Yara’s been stepping in more often.”

  The attack came without warning. A hail of arrows rained down from the trees, forcing the group to scatter. Marcus dove behind a fallen log, his heart pounding.

  “Kobolds!” Boruk bellowed, his axe raised.

  The small, reptilian creatures swarmed from the underbrush, their crude weapons glinting in the dim light. These weren’t mindless scavengers—they moved with purpose, their movements coordinated and efficient.

  Marcus barely had time to react as a kobold lunged at him, a jagged blade aimed for his throat. He twisted, the blade slicing through the air inches from his face. He countered with a wild punch, his spiked gauntlet tearing into the kobold’s neck.

  Another kobold appeared, its spear thrusting at his side. Marcus grabbed a broken branch from the ground, using it to deflect the attack. The wood splintered on impact, but it bought him enough time to deliver a crushing blow to the kobold’s head.

  The battle was chaos. Vira fought like a whirlwind, her blade cutting through the swarm, while Boruk and Ragn held the line, their powerful strikes keeping the kobolds at bay.

  But the kobolds were relentless. Marcus found himself cornered, three of the creatures circling him like wolves. One feinted, drawing his attention, while another lunged from behind.

  Desperate, Marcus reached for his Ki, channeling it into a burst of speed. He ducked under the attack, grabbing a handful of dirt and flinging it into the kobold’s eyes. It screeched, blinded, and Marcus finished it with a brutal uppercut.

  The largest kobold, clearly the leader, barked an order. The creatures shifted their tactics, focusing their attacks on Yara, whose magic was devastating their ranks.

  “Protect the caster!” Vira shouted, but the kobolds were too fast.

  Marcus sprinted toward Yara, leaping over a fallen kobold. The leader intercepted him, its curved blade slicing toward his chest. Marcus parried with his gauntlet, the impact jarring his arm.

  The kobold pressed its advantage, forcing Marcus back. He spotted a jagged rock on the ground and grabbed it, using it as an improvised weapon. With a roar, he slammed the rock into the kobold’s knee, forcing it to stumble. He followed up with a savage punch to its temple, the spikes of his gauntlet driving deep.

  The remaining kobolds hesitated, their leader’s death shaking their resolve. The orcs seized the moment, cutting them down with ruthless efficiency.

  As the last kobold fell, Marcus collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving. The fight had pushed him to his limits, but he felt a surge of pride.

  A notification appeared in his vision:

  Unique Class Unlocked: Spell Fist

  Achievement Unlocked: Fighting Pioneer

  Vira clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You did well, outsider. Better than I expected.”

  Marcus grinned, despite the exhaustion. “Guess fists aren’t so stupid after all.”