The two of them took the elevator down to the hotel's second basement level.

  Along the corridor leading to the training ground, small groups of mercenaries gathered and chatted idly. In one corner, two church informants sat at a low table. They pretended to drink and talk, all the while silently scanning the area.

  "That young master Fontaine has just come out of the elevator," one informant said in a low voice as he sipped his drink.

  "He is still alive? How odd," the other replied with a slight shake of his head. "And the high school girl by his side... far too beautiful, and suspicious."

  "What is there to suspect? Her height does not match his," the first informant chuckled quietly. "No illusion of a vampire can change one's physical stature."

  "Perhaps she is a new blood servant freshly turned by that vampire, sent over to lure him," the second informant said coldly. "If we follow them, we might trace the trail and catch a big fish."

  "You think the church never considered that?" the first informant scoffed. "That useless young master may be a noble, and his debauched lifestyle is well known. But if you catch him secretly playing with women, what good would that do you? In short, if he is seduced and assassinated by a vampire, that is his own problem; yet if you trail him and get caught, later when he causes a scene in the noble council, how will the church save face? In the end, they will push you and me out to take the blame."

  "True enough. Our goal is simply to find that vampire," the second informant sighed. "Let him go his way. Since he insists on leaving the church and roaming about, if he dies, he dies. It is no wonder it falls on us."

  The two informants resumed drinking as Marvin, seemingly oblivious to the murmurs around him, walked up to the counter with Aurora at his side. He slid a banknote across the counter and said, "Which melee training ground is available?"

  "Number 3," replied the counter clerk.

  They arrived at Training Ground Number 3, a spacious area roughly the size of four basketball courts placed side by side. One side of the field was lined with cast-iron dummies for warriors to practice their strikes, while the other side featured arenas of various sizes enclosed by chains, where mercenaries sparred with one another.

  "Put on your mask," Marvin told Aurora. "We will head to the arena to practice. I want to see how your skills are now."

  Aurora nodded and pulled on the tear-face mask, the kind used by tragic actors in ancient Xiris dramas. She then drew the short sword strapped to her thigh.

  Marvin selected the largest arena, the one usually reserved for team battles of five versus five. Several nearby mercenaries glanced over with curious eyes. As they entered the arena, Marvin unsheathed his longsword and casually flicked it to produce a flourish of sword light.

  "Come on, attack," he called to Aurora. "Give it your all. Do not fear that I cannot catch you."

  Aurora nodded and, bending her body slightly, pushed off with her back foot to launch herself forward. In an instant she disappeared from sight.

  "That is fast!" a mercenary nearby gasped, his hand pausing mid-motion as he glanced over.

  In the blink of an eye, Aurora's figure closed in on Marvin, only to be flung away in the next moment. Her speed was such that it was impossible to see clearly how Marvin countered. Aurora hit the ground and rolled a few times before struggling to rise again. Her movements were distorted by excruciating pain.

  "With such a rapid charge, can you control your speed?" Marvin said coldly, holding his longsword as he fixed his gaze on Aurora. "Do not aim too high. Start with the pace you can control."

  Aurora nodded and mustered her strength to charge again. This time she curved her attack into a short-angle flanking maneuver, her short sword lunging toward Marvin's unguarded back.

  There was a crisp sound of metal meeting metal. As if Marvin had eyes on his back, his longsword swung to intercept the strike. Aurora spun her blade in a reverse slash, only to have her short sword caught and disarmed by Marvin. In one fluid motion, he swept his leg like a whip, kicking her midsection and sending her flying.

  "The key for agile melee fighters is to strike and then retreat a thousand miles away," Marvin said coolly. "If your attack is blocked and you remain in place, you are just waiting for a counterattack. When you land, be sure to absorb the impact properly. Landing on your back is the worst. Land on your front with both hands bent to cushion and then roll quickly. Otherwise, you will be open to follow-up strikes!"

  "I understand," Aurora murmured as she picked up her short sword and assumed a fighting stance before charging once more.

  For a time, the clashing of metal rang out continuously, interspersed with Marvin's relentless instructions:

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "Mix feints with your real attacks! Every time your real move is blocked, you drain your energy. Use your head!"

  "Where is the variation in your footwork? If the enemy sees through your pattern, you are done for! Do not simply circle around!"

  "Watch my field of vision! Think of how you can attack from outside my blind spot instead of just circling around! You are on the outer circle and I am at the center. Can you really outmaneuver me?"

  More and more mercenaries gathered to watch. Aurora's sprinting speed far exceeded that of a normal person, and she exploited her agility to vary her approach constantly. Yet Marvin stood firm, his longsword moving effortlessly to block every attack. He not only defended with impenetrable precision but also managed to send Aurora flying with a few well-placed moves. Countless times she was thrown to the ground, yet each time she rose as if her strength were inexhaustible.

  These two were monsters indeed! The gathered mercenaries marveled in astonishment. That little warrior with the tear-face mask was astonishing, her super-speed giving her an almost limitless advantage on the field. Ordinary mercenaries could not hope to match her, and those slower by nature were left completely overwhelmed. In just a few moves, she was repeatedly tossed aside by Marvin, who was clearly on another level altogether.

  After another violent fall, Aurora used both hands to push herself up with a roll. Thanks to the boost from Sanguine's Thirst I, her body could endure the punishment. She lay panting, every bone in her body aching.

  "That is enough for now," Marvin said quietly, resting his longsword against his side. "Think over what I have taught you and organize your thoughts."

  Aurora nodded and moved over to a stone bench set against the wall where she sat in deep contemplation.

  Marvin sheathed his sword and was about to leave the arena when someone in the crowd raised a hand.

  "Hello there! If you do not have an opponent, might I spar with you?" called a voice.

  A fully armed warrior stepped forward from the crowd. Judging by her voice, she was a young woman. She wore the stamped steel plate armor typical of Jamanni warriors, along with a Gothic double-wing helmet and faceplate. Her lower body was clad in an armored skirt and steel boots. In her left hand she held a patterned stripe shield, and in her right, a long spear. The sheer weight of her gear was something only a person with some extraordinary power could bear.

  "Foot soldier?" Marvin asked.

  "Why not a gun and shield warrior?" the woman retorted.

  "Because the way you hold your spear is all wrong," Marvin said.

  The woman paused before quickly adjusting her grip. As a knight charging to thrust, she was accustomed to holding the end of the spear. A proper gun and shield fighter would hold it near the center to balance offense and defense.

  "Impressive," she said coolly as she adjusted her grip to the middle of the spear. "I do not have powered armor, so you may treat me as a gun and shield warrior. How is that?"

  "Swift and decisive," Marvin replied.

  Immediately, the surrounding mercenaries began to chatter excitedly. The woman assumed a wide stance, holding her shield in front and raising her spear as if preparing to unleash a decisive charge. Marvin, with one hand on his sword, watched her with a blank expression.

  "Will you draw your sword?" the woman asked.

  "No need," Marvin replied. "I can end this with one move."

  The crowd erupted in cheers. Mercenaries always enjoyed such boastful talk. The woman's face was obscured by her faceplate, so it was hard to tell if she was angry. She simply rotated her wrist slightly, adjusting her stance to one of full-force readiness.

  In an instant, her spear shot forward like a dragon, its sharp tip aimed directly at Marvin's chest. Her forward step faltered slightly as she assumed that if Marvin could not dodge in time, she would swiftly pull back the force to avoid lethal injury. But to her surprise, Marvin casually stepped to the left.

  He dodged!

  In the same moment he dodged her spear thrust, Marvin took a half-step forward, seized her spear with his right hand, and with his left formed a fist that struck her gripping hand. The woman did not evade because her right hand was protected by armored gauntlets, making her unafraid of Marvin's punch. If she were to let go of the spear, she would only fall into his trap.

  Marvin's fist came down, then suddenly shifted from a strike to a grip as he clutched her right wrist and yanked it backward. At the same time, his right foot lifted and delivered a powerful kick to her right knee. The force on her armor sent a surge through her, and her right leg buckled while her upper body was dragged forward. In an instant, she lost her balance and fell heavily to the ground.

  "Did no one ever teach you not to expose your form before striking?" Marvin questioned coldly. "Your posture is so obvious that even a fool can see your charge coming. Your moves are textbook standard, but standard means they are easily read. Think carefully about how to hide your true attack intentions."

  The woman struggled to rise, her protective armor now weighing her down. Having been defeated in one move, she felt both dejected and frustrated. When she heard Marvin's final words, her eyes lit up. She immediately nodded and said, "Yes. Please teach me, sir."

  The crowd erupted again. It was rare for a master in such sparring to accept a challenge from a stranger, let alone defeat them cleanly and then openly criticize their technique. This signified something important.

  It meant that a rare, once-in-a-lifetime master teacher was present! In this era, the Magic Tide had not yet fully arisen. Any martial artist with even a bit of strength was either employed by kings and emperors in their courts or kept in noble estates as a treasured servant. Mercenaries? They earned only a pittance. A noble's favor was worth far more.

  In a moment of eager competition, many in the crowd raised their hands, clamoring for their turn to spar. "Master, next please, let me try against you!" they shouted.

  Amid the excitement, Marvin casually selected a Macedonian gun and shield warrior. The opponent, holding his spear and shield, saluted Marvin respectfully before quickly assuming a fighting stance.

  "Your footwork is too light. Have you not trained enough?" Within less than five seconds, the Macedonian warrior was sent flying from the arena.

  "Your moves are too exaggerated. You leave yourself open!" The next Spartan warrior who came forward was also knocked down.

  "What are you jumping about for, a clown?" a Burgundian ranger rolled on the ground after being bested.

  Soon every mercenary who stepped into the arena was thoroughly defeated, leaving the floor strewn with bodies and the surrounding crowd in awe. It was one thing to receive precious martial instruction; it was another to be beaten so thoroughly in front of everyone. Saving face or preserving dignity was indeed a difficult choice. After about ten seconds with no one volunteering, the first female warrior stepped forward again.

  "I would like to ask for more guidance," she said respectfully, bowing slightly.

  "Come," Marvin said.