Physical Combat Training-1

It had been five days since Ranav arrived in Taxila. During this time, he had visited many places in the city with Vayunisha and Paramita. The bustling streets, the towering spires of the ancient watch towers, and the rich aroma of street food stalls had all left a lasting impression on him.

Vartika had given him more books on summoning magic, and he had devoured them eagerly. His usual morning training with Nathaniel continued without fail, each session pushing him harder than the last. Now, he lay panting heavily on the ground, sweat dripping from his brow after finishing five grueling laps. Running five laps wasn't the issue… it was doing it under fifteen minutes that was proving to be a challenge.

But today, something different was planned. Their special training was about to begin.

Until now, only eight trainees had managed to surpass the 3000-mark on the strength-measuring machine, and these eight were now standing in front of Nathaniel, their instructor.

Nathaniel's voice rang out with authority. "Start counting. This will be your new number today."

From the left, the counting began… one, two, three… Ranav was number 7 today.

Nathaniel's sharp gaze scanned the group as he pointed towards a square-shaped arena, enclosed by white ropes. "Today, you will fight each other. This is the ring I've prepared for you."

Murmurs rippled through the group. Nathaniel's next words, however, silenced them instantly.

"The only thing you can rely on is your body. It doesn't matter whether you use your fists, feet, elbows, teeth, or even your head… use whatever is necessary to win. Your body is your ultimate weapon. External weapons are useful, yes, but you can never predict when you'll be caught off guard, unable to draw your weapon in time, or when your weapon is seized by an opponent. Your body, however, will always be with you. Strength, technique, and speed… these three determine the victor."

A trainee, number 4, raised his hand hesitantly. Nathaniel acknowledged him with a nod. "Speak."

"Shouldn't we train first?" he asked.

Nathaniel smirked. "You don't need formal training. What you need is experience. You must learn the feel of combat… the pain, the fear, the desperation. Only by teetering on the brink of defeat, feeling your life slip from your grasp, will you truly understand what it takes to survive."

The tension in the air thickened as he pointed towards a group of five men sitting along the side of the training ground. They were dressed in white robes, their presence both reassuring and ominous.

"These healers are here to keep you alive. I will also be watching from the side. If I sense that someone is in true danger, I will intervene. Believe me, I won't let you die. But you will come face-to-face with death. Only then will you know what needs to be improved. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Each of you will receive personalized guidance after your match. Remember, true elites do not fight in patterns… they adapt. And you are all elites in the making."

He turned back to the group, his voice booming. "Now, number 1 and 8, enter the arena. Stand on the marked circles near the rope."

The two trainees stepped forward, their expressions tense. Each took their position inside the drawn red circles.

"Fight!" Nathaniel commanded.

At first, neither moved, both studying each other, searching for a weakness. Then, number 8 lunged forward, his fist shooting toward number 1's chest. But number 1 reacted quickly, twisting at the last second so that the punch merely grazed his ribs.

In an instant, number 1 retaliated, driving a sharp knee upward into number 8's side. A grunt of pain escaped number 8's lips, but he didn't retreat. Instead, he stepped forward into the attack and slammed his forehead into number 1's skull with a brutal headbutt.

A dull, sickening sound echoed.

Number 1 staggered backward, blinking rapidly through the haze of pain, but he refused to fall. Blood dripped down his brow, yet he stood firm.

The two began circling each other now, their breaths ragged. And then, they clashed again.

Fists met flesh, ribs bruised, and jaws snapped sideways under the sheer force of their punches. Number 1 ducked under a wild hook and delivered a devastating punch to number 8's gut. Number 8 shuddered violently, his body doubling over, but before number 1 could capitalize, number 8 latched onto his opponent's shoulders, twisting their combined weight—and they slammed into the dirt together.

A chaotic, brutal scramble followed. Knees smashed against ribs, elbows drove into cheekbones, and blood smeared the ground.

Then, number 8 managed to roll on top, pinning number 1 beneath him. But his advantage didn't last.

With a savage strike to the temple, number 1 retaliated.

Number 8 gasped, his grip loosening. Seeing his chance, number 1 twisted violently, dragging them both down once more. This time, however, his knee drove into number 8's leg at the wrong angle.

A sickening snap.

Number 8 let out a scream, his leg crumpling beneath him. He clawed at the dirt, trying to push himself up, but he couldn't stand. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wide with pain and realization.

The fight was over.

Nathaniel watched as number 1 stood, bloodied but victorious, while healers rushed in to tend to number 8. Soon after, the injured trainees were carried away by standby guards into the nearby medical shed.

Nathaniel's voice rang out once more. "Number 2 and 7. Enter the arena."

Ranav took a deep breath and stepped forward, lifting the rope and positioning himself inside the designated red circle. His opponent, number 2, was already in place.

Nathaniel's voice cut through the air. "Fight!"

Ranav stood motionless, his sharp eyes locked onto his opponent. But internally, he wasn't alone.

"Jessica, what do you think?" he asked through their mental link.

"Hard to say," Jessica replied. "We don't know much about number 2 yet. Stay flexible and adjust as the fight progresses."

Ranav sighed, "I don't have much experience with physical fight. All I trained with the sword. The little I learned in my previous life, wasted because of this strong body. I really need to train."

Jessica said, "Focus on your agility. Dodge and counterattack. Remember, I am always with you. You will not fight alone."

At that moment, number 2 moved.

His powerful stride sent him forward in an instant, his right fist shooting forward with deadly precision.

Jessica's urgent voice rang in Ranav's mind.

"Incoming!"

Ranav reacted. His muscles tensed, his instincts flaring. The fight had begun.