Humans are a weak race.
That's an undeniable fact.
We aren't strong like elephants, nor fast like cheetahs, and we could potentially die from many different causes such as starvation, sickness, or a predator's attack,…
However, what separates us from animals and places us at the top of the food chain is not strength or speed, but intelligence itself.
We possessed higher intellegence compare to other races, this has been show clear throughout history, from basic tools like spears to hunt to gun that could end lives with just a minimum efforts.
With the introduction of Disciplines, the power of intelligence has grown even more. Who could imagine that with just thoughts, we could manipulate the world to our liking? That would be chaos, right?
But the scariest part doesn't lie in the destructive potential; it's the fact that every single person on this planet has access to knowledge, and therefore access to Disciplines. This could made all of us Scholars.
Oh, the chaos, where people destroy each other in the hunt for more knowledge and also, more power. This unfortunate created one of the bloodiest event in history, the darkest era in human existence that no one wants to mention again.
"But as you can see, that's a whole different topic. Talking about it would take us hours, and surely you don't want to waste time on a useless topic, right?"
"Hm…"
Under the dim light coming from the small window of the cell, the young man leaned against the wall, nodding, his expression remaining unchanged as he carefully listened to the old man in front of him.
"I think I kind of understand what you're trying to say here." He began, his voice a bit raspy from the cold breeze outside entering the room.
"Humans are weak, but what makes us strong is our intelligence, which goes further with those powers you call Disciplines which worked pretty much based on our intelligence. Therefore, the key to power is intelligence, isn't it?"
Frode nodded. "Well, you are correct, halfway."
"Halfway?"
The old man used the dried blood on the floor to draw with his finger as an example while explaining. "Since you seem to be still very confused, let me explain again.
Intelligence and knowledge are two different things; they are not the same, but both are crucial as well as the other.
Think of intelligence as an engine. It observes, it thinks, it decides. It determines whether you can understand new information or not, and it's important because it also counts as talent. No matter what you do, if your intelligence is limited, don't even bother reading the solution; it won't help you become stronger or smarter; it will just make you look like an idiot.
On the other hand, knowledge acts like fuel for your engine. The right kind of fuel lets you run smoothly. But random fuel? It will cause you some trouble, but not a total disaster. However, if you mix everything together? Yeah, your brain is cooked.
That's why, when choosing Disciplines, you should select what fits you best; don't choose randomly, and definitely don't try to do everything at once."
Isaak narrowed his eyes, trying to understand what Frode had just said. For some reason, it both made sense and didn't make sense at all, which left the young man utterly confused.
"So… How is that important to my training at all?"
In response, the old man simply shrugged, leaving Isaak completely speechless.
"You're right, it doesn't matter right now. But still, it is crucial information if you want to study and pursue Disciplines in the future."
"…Wait, what?" After a few moments of silence, Isaak finally let out a confused noise. "I thought you were going to teach me about those 'Disciplines' you keep mentioning?!"
"Well... let's just say you aren't ready for those things yet. Besides, it's too risky for you to learn about that here right now, and we also don't meet the requirements since we lack some... books."
For a brief moment, Isaak questioned why he had even bothered asking a crazy old man to teach him to become stronger in the first place. He let out a heavy sigh, his hand resting on his forehead as he felt the determination he had a moment ago slowly disappeared.
"This is so pointless…"
"Oi. Don't be disappointed! I just haven't made it to the main point yet." Frode moved closer to Isaak and lightly knocked his head, causing Isaak to yelp.
Isaak held his forehead as he grumbled. "Can you just get straight to the point instead of goofing around with random information that is totally unnecessary right now?"
"Alright fine. Those youngsters nowadays don't have a bit of respect for their elders at all!"
Frode slowly stood up in front of Isaak, taking a deep breath before beginning again. Despite his skinny figure, he somehow still gave Isaak quite a chill when he started speaking in a more serious tone.
"Listen carefully, this is not some useless information you claim it to be, so you better listen before complaining.
Scholars are often divided into two roles: Theorists and Practitioners. Theorists are Scholars who focus on studying. They dedicate themselves entirely to research and developing new formulas, theories, and applications.
But what we're discussing here are Practitioners. They balance studying with practical combat. They study Disciplines but also learn how to deploy them in combat."
"Combat?" Isaak tilted his head in curiosity.
"Of course, you can be both, but that doesn't matter right now. Now, let me ask you a question: what do you think will happen when a Theorist fights against a Practitioner?"
Isaak leaned against the wall, hand on his chin as he thought. What could possibly happen if a Theorist fought against a Practitioner? After a few minutes, he finally gave his answer.
"I don't know."
"What a straightforward answer." Frode slightly mocked before continued.
"If a Theorist fights against a Practitioner, the Theorist will mostly stand still in one place during the fight. Why? Because to project an attack, they will have to go through a bunch of steps, open their Field of Recognition, think through formulas and stuff before deploying it as an attack. Now let me ask you another question: what will happen during that time?"
"Uh… In my opinion, the Practitioner mostly will attack the Theorist since they are busy with their formula?"
"Finally! You got it for once!" The old man clapped his hands, but before Isaak could respond, he continued. Frode made a faked striking with his right hand, hooking at the air.
"That's the main point. In a fight among Scholars, or in any battle for that matter, while projecting an attack is essential for inflicting real damage, you must also stay focused on the opponent in front of you. However, easier said than done; in fact, staying focused on every opponent's movement while calculating complex situations in head is almost impossible, let alone attacking back.
That's why a fighting style was developed only for Scholars, and it's called Cerebrum."
The young man raised his eye. "Cerebrum? Can you explain further?"
Isaak slowly stood up from where he was sitting. He brushed off some dirt before facing Frode, curiosity evident in his voice.
"Of course. Cerebrum was created centuries ago in the Age of Erudition as a form of fighting style for Scholars. It fixed the crucial weakness Scholars had when it came to fighting."
Despite Frode's old age, his movements were still very quick, almost surprising Isaak. For a brief moment, Isaak saw the old man's fist move from his hip to just below his jaw, a hook that would have knocked him out cold if Frode not stopped it in time.
"Basically, it allows you to strike back at the opponent while maintaining focus on the projected attack you are calculating in your mind. Sounds great, right? That's why it quickly adapted into the system. Nowadays, it is an essential skill if you want to climb higher in the ranks."
Isaak stepped back slightly to avoid any more fake strikes from Frode, he rested his fingers on his chin as he began to think. While it wasn't related to Disciplines, physical training still seemed like a good choice to start with, he thinked.
"So, are you going to teach me about this Cerebrum stuff?" He asked Frode.
The old man nodded, his voice affirming Isaak's thoughts.
"Although you can't learn about Disciplines just yet, understanding the basics will provide a good foundation before you enter more difficult aspects. Besides, I think teaching you about combat will be more important than Disciplines right now; after all, we are inside a prison."
Frode walked to the center of the cramped cell, crossing his arms while surveying Isaak with considering eyes. Before Isaak could ask any further questions, the old man started the training without further explanation.
"Alright, kiddo. Let's begin now!" the old man shouted seriously, forcing Isaak to pay attention. "Thirty push-ups, twenty squats, and ten pull-ups from that window bar. All at once, no rest!"
Isaak blinked. "What?"
Before he could finish, Frode's hand connected with his chest, hitting his gut and knocking Isaak back, leaving him breathless. "No time for that 'what' of yours!" Frode commanded. "Move!"
Reluctantly, Isaak dropped to the cold, hard floor and began the push-ups. With each motion, he could feel the gravel scraping against his hands. Halfway through, his arms started to tremble; his muscles were unused to such exertion. But he couldn't stop right now; if he did, that old man would definitely give him another punch.
"You are insane, old man." Isaak muttered under his breath, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.
"Of course I am insane; what did you expect from old people?" Frode responded, circling around Isaak like a hawk. "It's already unlucky we only have these few precious minutes before they force us to sleep for the night. Get those reps in, kiddo. We're cutting the sets short as it is!"
Isaak shifted, trying to focus, but only managed to reach the squats with shaky legs. His muscles screamed in protest, a burning sensation spreading through his legs. By the time he reached the window bars for pull-ups, he was already out of breath.
The bars felt rough and unyielding; each pull-up felt like hell. His fingers would have slipped if they weren't locked in a desperate grip. Ten seemed so impossible, he had just started minutes ago.
As he passed eight, his arms strained, his fingers stinging as he nearly slipped.
"Keep going! This is nothing but a warm-up." Frode's voice cut through Isaak's exhaustion, pulling him back, but what held Isaak upright were the old man's next words. "Don't whine like a bitch. You wanted power, didn't you? This is what you asked for!"
Right… I need to become stronger…
With a simple thought of determination, Isaak finished the pull-ups, landing on the floor, fingers tingling with pain while he catching his breath.
"Done." He gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart was racing so fast that he even thought it could explode at any time.
"Good." Frode's expression was unreadable, a blend of approval and harshness. He extended a hand, helping Isaak to his feet. "But we're far from finished, that was only the beginning."
Isaak felt the ache running through his limbs, slowing him down. The old man looked at him seriously, his eye judging the young man.
"How pathetic. You nobles are always so arrogant, you never had to lifting a finger in your lives. Now that you face something challenging, you're already out of breath!"
Before Isaak could protest, the old man's fist delivered a swift, sharp blow to his ribs, causing him to stumble back, one hand clutching his throbbing side. "Ack! Old man?!"
"Shut it. Now we move on to the next part of the training." Frode cut him off, refusing to let Isaak rest for even a minute. "Let's see how many punches you can block before I knock you to the ground."
"I'm not ready! You barely gave me a moment—"
"And neither will your opponents." Frode interrupted with cold logic. "Do you want to escape this hellhole? Let me tell you one thing: the world is cruel and merciless, it will crush you if you can't fight back. You must learn to fight back. Get a grip and fight back!"
Isaak let out a small groan before shifting into a defensive stance. His eyes locked on Frode, carefully watching his every move. If he moved his gaze or became distracted for even a second, he will get hit.
"The core of Cerebrum is to train the body to protect the mind, and the mind to sharpen the body." Frode explained while moving in with another faked attack, testing Isaak's reflexes.
Isaak moved his arm instinctively, trying to block, but in his surprise, nothing came, he had guessed it wrong. As a result, Frode immediately launched a punch straight at his stomach.
Next came a hook delivered up to his jaw, leaving Isaak stunned. Two attacks at once; if this had been a real fight, Isaak would have been knocked out cold.
Frode let out a low sigh, shaking his head at Isaak's hopeless attempts. His hands were everywhere but in the right place to defend himself, not to mention the openings exposed for every possible attack against him.
"You can't even block my punches. How can you focus on the Field?"
The words made Isaak's frustration rise even more. He frowned, knowing his frustration wouldn't help much in this situation as he had to constantly focus on dodging.
"I'm trying!" Isaak protested, dodging a punch only to receive a swift kick to his side. His ribs ached from the impact, forcing him to reconsider his life choices.
Frode sighed, impatience in his voice. "You're never going to learn at this pace. Look, I'm going to show you how to stand properly."
Frode suddenly changed into a grounded stance, his feet stable, knees slightly bent, shoulder-width apart. It was balanced, as if ready for quick movements and fast responses to any attacks incoming.
"Focus on this stance, kiddo." Frode yelled as he swung his kick towards him. Immediately, Isaak quickly changed his stance, managing to dodge the kick just in time.
As Isaak mirrored him, Frode's next attack was a sharp kick that kind of slowed, giving Isaak enough time to step aside. Still, the edge of Frode's heel hit him lightly, but the difference between him before and after adapting to the stance was clear.
"See? If your stance is stable, you can dodge better and faster." Frode nodded. "Now, raise your shoulders to protect your neck. Keep your chin down to avoid hooks and prevent your jaw from being hit. Arms forward to guard, and keep your knees near your ribs."
Isaak adjusted as instructed, paying close attention to Frode's stance as he continued to test him again with a series of quick jabs and hooks.
The next punch came near his face, and Isaak ducked instinctively, his right arm raised to block the punch that was about to hit his rib again.
"Good, it took you long enough to understand." Frode smirked, making a joking comment as he continued to attack relentlessly, pushing Isaak to adapt. "A few more tips: Always take deep breaths. Keep your mind calm, especially in heated situations."
Isaak struggled to incorporate everything, but eventually, his focus began to improve. He dodged another punch, letting a kick land on his chest. While he couldn't dodge every attack, he still can minimize their impact to avoid critical.
Stay focused.
Isaak felt the rhythm of the fight begin to flow through him, the stinging ache in his muscles sharpening his focus. With each punch and kick, he found himself gradually adapting to Frode's relentless style. Blocking, dodging, his movements became swift in responding to Frode's attacks.
After completing several rounds of constant dodging and blocking, Isaak caught his breath as he spoke up.
"Alright, what's next, old man?" Isaak finally asked, feeling slightly confident from the minor progress he had made, despite sweating profusely and struggling to catch his breath as time passed.
"Close one eye."
Huh? Close my eye?
Isaak frowned, the unexpected command catching him off guard. "What? Why?"
Frode's only response was to tell him to close his eye. There was no further explanation, just the silence indicating that Isaak should do as what he said.
Isaak stopped for a second, confusion clear on his face. But in the end, he still did as the old man said, shutting his right eye; the world in his sight reduced to half.
"Since you can't do any of those Disciplines yet," Frode remarked, moving into another stance. "Instead, close one eye. Use that space it frees up to train your mind to focus on something else entirely."
Isaak shifted uncomfortably, his right eye firmly shut while his arms stayed in defense for any incoming attacks. "It's impossible to focus on two things at once!"
"That's why you have to practice it. In a real battle, if you lose track of your body, you will get hit. If you lose track of your Field, your projection will collapse. Either way, you will fail."
"How am I supposed to do it then?"
Frode only smirked, his tone mischievous as he asked, "What's for breakfast tomorrow?"
"Why does that—"
Frode interrupted with a direct strike toward Isaak's shoulder, prompting Isaak to instinctively block. "Because if you don't answer while avoiding my attacks, you will get punished later. Simple, right?"
Isaak let out a small sigh. He really had no choice. "We get the same garbage every day." He grumbled, trying his best to focus on both his mind and the old man in front of him.
"Think about the details of that 'garbage' while dodging." Frode's voice was sharp.
Isaak tried to keep his steps steady, following Frode's instructions. The first punch was avoidable, his body responding quickly. But after a few seconds, he began to get distracted, his movements slowing.
Thoughts of the awful food flooded his mind.
Musty bread, its unmistakable green patches of mold. The watery soup that had probably been left out for days with flies before it was thrown to him.
He never had meats or vegetables, and if he did, he doubted they could even be called that, given how abominable they looked.
It was so bad that just thinking about it made Isaak want to vomit all over the place.
F#ck, I take back what I said before. I can never accept putting those things in my mouth.
Prison food is the worst—
As he thought about how terrible the food was, a punch connected his ribs, followed by another, one by one, striking at Isaak without giving him a chance to react.
His focus had completely shifted to thoughts of the terrible food, allowing Frode to approach him and attack him relentlessly. As each punch hit him, Isaak's mind wandered somewhere else.
How clumsy of Isaak.
After some moments of punching Isaak nonstop, the old man finally stopped as he started to feel tired. After all, he was old, he couldn't do as much as he could during his youth anymore. "I guess that's it for today."
"Don't worry. You'll start to get used to it in around a month or less." He took in a deep breath. "When I was your age, I encountered the same mistakes too. Everybody's gotta start at some point, am I right?"
Frode let out a small chuckle as he remembered about his old days. It surely brought up some memories.
Meanwhile, the young man didn't even move and just stayed on the ground. He looked as if he had passed out and probably wouldn't wake up anytime soon.