Bel was the first up. We formed a loose circle around them.
The archer stood twenty yards away, an arrow already nocked, body tense as he waited for the fight to start.
Vael’dargar stood relaxed, completely at ease. She held a simple, unadorned metal buckler in her left hand and a short spear in her right.
Without warning, she threw the spear. I didn’t even see her hand move, all I saw was the plume of sand as it landed inches away from Bel, knocking him off balance.
She kept talking like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Most fights won’t be duels. Waiting for your opponent to make the first move gives them the opportunity to control the pace.”
She raised her hand, and the spear flew back into her grasp.
Bel didn’t need to be told twice. From his sitting position, he loosed an arrow. Vael’dargar deflected it effortlessly with her buckler and lunged forward.
Her speed wasn’t even that impressive, yet she closed the distance with ease, knocking aside the rapid barrage of arrows Bel fired at her. Her buckler barely seemed to move, no wasted effort, just perfectly timed deflections.
She tapped him lightly on the chest with her spear.
“You’re an archer. Why are you sitting still?”
Bel jumped back, shooting an arrow at the same time. She deflected it without effort and kept chasing him across the beach.
“Good.”
Then, without breaking stride, she hurled her spear at what seemed like a random spot. Bel had just landed from another jump when he stumbled over it, sprawling into the sand.
“Just don’t be so predictable.”
She strode back to her starting position.
“Mage, your turn.”
Sylvan stepped forward, her expression determined. Without hesitation, she hurled a fireball.
Vael’dargar stood still, unmoving, until the last second, when she angled her buckler just enough to deflect the blast, sending it past her harmlessly. Then she lunged.
Sylvan reacted instantly, fire jetting from her palms, forcing the trainer to dodge sideways.
“Good! Control your environment. Don’t just focus on your opponent.”
Vael’dargar vaulted over the flames, but before Sylvan could adjust her aim, she was suddenly drenched by a torrent of water.
The trainer landed lightly in front of her and tapped her chest.
The mage looked dumbfounded and the taller elf smirked
“Assumptions kill.”
Joro’gar and Ilin didn’t last any longer.
She danced around the tank, striking at his blind spots over and over, making him stumble again and again.
When it was Ilin’s turn, Vael’dargar switched tactics, barely moving at all, predicting every strike, every feint, until she finally made the scout trip.
“When fighting someone with a range advantage, whether in height or weapon choice, first advice? Don’t. But if you have to, keep the fight close and personal. Make their range work against them.”
She returned to her starting position.
“Come on, human, let’s see what all the fuss is about.”
Her haughty attitude was starting to get on my nerves.
“I have a name. It’s Alex.”
She scoffed. “I’ll learn your name when you make an impression.”
I manifested a longer spear than hers and discreetly buried two energy spheres in the sand.
“Manifestation? Seriously? How old are you?”
“I don’t exactly have access to proper equipment, alright? I’ve been managing with it so far.”
She gave me a brief nod but didn’t respond. Just stood there, waiting.
I really wanted her to come at me, so I manifested a dart in my left hand and hurled it at her. My aim wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to make her raise her buckler. She started advancing, deflecting my darts with minimal effort, closing the distance with steady, deliberate steps.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The moment she reached striking range, I jumped back a few feet and triggered my spike traps.
I had her!
But instead of being caught off guard, a wide grin spread across her face.
With a single smooth motion, she plunged her feet into the sand, kicked up my traps, and in the same movement, drove her foot straight into my chest.
I flew backward, landing hard, sand coating me from head to toe. But I didn’t let that slow me down. I used levitation to keep my distance and continued launching darts.
“That was a good idea,” she said, casually deflecting my attacks, “but don’t rely too much on just one plan. Things always go wrong in battle. Improvisation is a key survival skill.”
Without warning, she leaped, grabbed my ankle in midair, and slammed me back into the sand.
I barely had time to register the impact before she was already walking back to her starting point.
“Priest, you’re up.”
We all started protesting at once, but Thal stepped forward hesitantly. “I’m not much of a fighter, ma’am”
Vael’dargar fixed him with a piercing glare.
“Then you have no business being here if you don’t consider yourself a warrior. It doesn’t matter what your role is.”
She paced in front of us, her voice firm.
“What happens if your entire team is incapacitated, or worse, and there are still monsters left?”
Thal swallowed hard, nodding vigorously. He pulled a small knife from his ring.
Vael’dargar was suddenly right in front of him. No warning. No sound. No disturbance. She had definitely been holding back earlier.
She turned to the rest of us, her gaze sharp and disapproving.
“What’s wrong with you? You never leave your healer unprotected. Any semi intelligent enemy would target him first.”
Ilin started to protest. “But you said”
“I know what I said,” she cut her off sharply.
She looked back at Thal, who was still frozen in place.
“That being said, you still need to be able to defend yourself if things get desperate.”
She pulled a spear from her storage and handed it to him.
“You’ll train with the others until you at least learn how to use that pointy end the right way.”
————
We were gathered around our trainer in a loose circle
“ we’re going to start by working on your footwork “
The sand was uneven, shifting beneath our feet with every step. It was the worst possible terrain for precision, which was probably why Vael’dargar had chosen it. She stood in the center of the group, spear planted in the ground, watching us like a hawk.
“Your feet are slow,” she declared, her tone as cutting as ever. “You hesitate. You wobble. Some of you even cross your legs when you move. That’s how you get killed.”
Her spear shot out without warning, catching Bel behind the ankle. He barely managed to twist away before it swept him off his feet entirely, but the movement left him off balance. She immediately shoved him with the shaft of her weapon, sending him sprawling into the sand.
“That was mercy,” she said. “An enemy won’t give you that.”
Bel scrambled up, wiping sand from his face, but she was already moving, stalking toward the rest of us.
“We’re going to drill until you can move without thinking. Until your body responds before your mind does. Because if you hesitate, even for a breath ”
She lunged at Sylvan, aiming low. The mage hopped backward, but she miscalculated the distance. Vael’dargar caught her ankle with a sharp tap of her spear and Sylvan landed hard on her backside.
“you lose.”
Sylvan groaned, rubbing her elbow where she’d landed. The trainer ignored her.
“First drill.” She pointed her spear at a spot in the sand. “Step forward with your lead foot. Back foot follows. Small, controlled movements. If you cross your legs, you’re getting tripped. If you take a step too large, you’re getting tripped. If you plant your feet for even a moment”
She swung the shaft of her spear in an arc, making it very clear what would happen if we didn’t move fast enough.
We got to work. One step forward. Back foot followed. Another step. Again. We moved in a loose circle, staying light, shifting our weight properly, I was struggling to keep my stance steady while my legs burned from the strain.
“Control your balance,” she barked. “If the ground is unsteady, adjust. Stop stomping around like you weigh a thousand pounds, Joro. And for the love of the system , Llin, where the hell do you think you’re stepping? If you ever turn your back like that in a real fight, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
She moved fast, sweeping her spear at Llin’s ankle. She managed to hop over it, barely. Vael’dargar’s lips curled in a smirk, and just as the scout landed, she shifted her stance and knocked his back foot forward instead. Llin hit the ground with a grunt.
“Predictable,” she said. “Again.”
We kept moving. Step, step, step. The sand made every motion harder, our legs sinking slightly with each placement. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I focused on keeping my balance, keeping my steps small and controlled. Vael’dargar wove between us, watching, waiting for mistakes.
Bel stepped too far forward. She tripped him.
Joro hesitated between steps. She tripped him.
Sylvan lost her stance trying to adjust for the uneven ground. She tripped her too, not even breaking stride.
“Good,” she said, finally, as we picked ourselves up again. “Now move backward.”
That was even worse. Moving backward meant we couldn’t see where we were stepping, which made it much easier to stumble. We focused on the same controlled steps, but Vael’dargar was relentless. The moment one of us planted our feet too long, or lost our balance, she was there, knocking us over like we were nothing.
“Keep your eyes forward,” she ordered. “Don’t watch your feet. Watch me. You need to learn to feel your footing, not rely on sight.”
I kept my gaze locked on her, forcing my feet to obey. The sand sucked at my heels, but I adjusted, shifting my weight just enough to stay steady. A bead of sweat slid down my temple.
Suddenly, she was in front of me.
Her spear shot forward in a sharp feint, and instinct took over. I pivoted, stepping to the side, but as soon as I moved, I realized the trap, I’d stepped too wide.
Her foot hooked behind my knee, and I barely had time to curse before I hit the ground.
She shook her head. “Almost.”
I spat out sand and pushed myself back up. Around me, the others were going through the same ordeal. Joro had taken off his armor and was practically drenched in sweat. Sylvan’s movements had gotten more precise, but she still hesitated at times, especially when adjusting for the terrain. Bel, for all his skill at ranged combat, struggled the most with maintaining his stance. He was too used to shooting from a static position.
Vael’dargar sighed, as if we were all personally disappointing her.
“This is pathetic,” she said. “If I fought any of you seriously, I’d have you dead before you even realized what happened.”
We were too exhausted to argue.
She crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her bicep in thought. Then she turned and jabbed a finger at Joro. “Tank, come here.”
Joro trudged forward, looking wary.
“You have strength, but no footwork. That’s a problem.” She pointed at me. “Human. You too.”
I stepped up beside Joro, confused.
“Both of you. Push me.”
I blinked. “What?”
She rolled her eyes. “You heard me. Shove me as hard as you can.”
Joro and I exchanged a look. Then, with a shrug, we both lunged forward, putting all our weight behind the push.
We might as well have tried to move a mountain.
Vael’dargar didn’t even budge. She let us strain against her for a moment, then casually stepped aside, letting us stumble forward from our own momentum.
“This is the difference footwork makes,” she said. “You two have more weight than I do. I’m not even using a fraction of my strength so you should have been able to overpower me but strength is useless if you can’t apply it properly.”
She turned back to the rest of the group. “That goes for all of you. Power means nothing if your feet aren’t in the right place. You can’t dodge. You can’t strike properly. You can’t even run away if needed. And if you can’t move, you die.”
She gave us a moment to let that sink in, then clapped her hands once.
“Again. Forward and back, until I’m satisfied.”
We groaned but obeyed. The sun was rising higher but there was no stopping.
Step, step, step.
Each movement drilled into muscle memory, until we no longer had to think about it.
Until we started to move like warriors.
