First Lessons in Combat

I pulled up my status screen, grinning like an idiot at the transformation.

[STATUS

Name: Marcus von Ravencrest

Soul Core: PRIMORDIAL

Level: 4

HP: 420 / 420

MP: 580 / 580

Core Attributes 

• Strength — 100 / 400

• Charm — 100 / 400

• Stamina — 100 / 400

• Agility — 100 / 400

• Magical Perception — 100 / 400

• Base Mana — 77 / 400

Primordial Abilities

• Predatory Instincts

• Battle Resonance

• Presence Manifestation]

Still got a long way to go, but this is a hell of an improvement from Level 1.

"Let me check the other interface too."

[INCUBUS PATH]

[Name: Marcus von Ravencrest

Bloodline: ????

IP: 0 IP

Stored Experience: 75,700 EXP

Incubus Abilities

• Enhanced Perception

• Eternal Bond

• Charm Resistance

• Essence Snatch

• Carnal Evolution

• Satisfaction Addiction

Intermediate Tier

• Divine Rod

• Endless Stamina

• Pleasure Amplification

• Perfect Technique

• Passion Fuel

• Multiple Climax

Eternal Partners

• Lady Cassandra von Ravencrest — Level 102 (Transcendent)

Two different progression systems running side by side—like two rivers feeding the same storm. One shaped my physical form. The other... touched something deeper. This was getting complex.

A soft knock interrupted my little power trip. "Come in," I called, already sensing who it was through my enhanced awareness. Mother was trying to act like she was here moments ago just before she had gone.

Mother entered.

But she wasn't the same. Gone was the softness from earlier, the slight tilt of her smile. What stood before me now was iron wrapped in silk. Cold. Sharp. Controlled. Like a commander before the first arrow flies.

"I saw your core formation," she said simply. "Primordial. I wondered when it would manifest, given your... unique circumstances."

Wait. She knew? She knew what I'd awaken before I even touched the edge of that power?

"You knew," I said, not asking. Just stating what we both now understood.

"I suspected," she said, stepping further into the room. "Your resonance patterns were... distinct, even before awakening." she was lying to let me less guarded. She knew from the start. She gave a smile, sharp and knowing. "Unlike the others, you were never meant for the soft life. You were designed for dominion."

The way she said it didn't feel like pride. It felt like truth. Cold, unshakable truth.

"Tonight, you learn what that means. Training grounds. Now."

***

The change in Mother was total. Whatever trace of warmth existed in her before had been buried beneath layers of discipline and experience.

She wasn't just a mother anymore. She was a warrior.

Level 180. Ascendant.

A living weapon who had survived centuries.

And she looked at me like a blade that hadn't been sharpened yet.

"Tell me," she said, voice flat but commanding. "What do you know about combat?"

I swallowed. Time to draw on everything I'd seen—anime fights, battle sequences, even game mechanics. "Guts—pure rage and power. Refined form and speed. Then the tacticians… every move calculated."

I tried to explain, piecing it together.

"Combat has philosophies," I began. "Some warriors rely on brute force—crushing the enemy before they can react. Others use technique—letting precision beat power. And then some rely on tactics—movement, spacing, deception."

She nodded, just slightly. "Crude… but more comprehensive than I expected."

Was that… praise? I couldn't tell.

She moved on. "What about magical combat?"

I tapped deeper. Time to summon all my inner nerd. "Magic's about distance and control. It's about how you manage your mana, when to use it and when to hold back. Some users enhance themselves for close-range fighting, others stay back and cast high-damage spells. And the elements—fire beats ice, lightning destroys water, stuff like that."

"Better." Her tone was ice-cold professionalism. "You at least understand the core foundations."

She stepped forward. "Weapons?"

"Depends on the fighter's style and body," I said. "Spears are amazing for keeping people at bay and controlling crowds. Swords are flexible, but you've gotta train like crazy to master them. Maces and axes? Devastating, but slow. And dual-wielding looks cool but it's risky—you mess up, you're wide open."

She looked at me like an instructor grading a report. "Acceptable theoretical knowledge. Now let's see if you can apply any of it." She moved to the weapon rack, her motions so smooth they almost didn't make sound. "This isn't about preference. It's about what suits you—your instincts, your gifts."

She drew a longsword and moved through a form. Every movement bled experience. A seamless dance of cuts and slashes, one flowing into the next like breath.

"Copy this."

I took the sword. The grip was weird. Off. The weight pulled awkwardly in my hand. I tried to mimic her form, but my swings were sloppy. My footwork off. My Battle Resonance whispered to me—tiny corrections. But I still looked like a kid swinging a stick in the backyard.

"Pathetic," she said, not unkindly—but not gently either. "Again."

I swung again, and something shifted. My core reacted. Mana pulsed through my limbs. My perception ticked up. Movements started making a little more sense.

Still clumsy—but no longer completely blind.

The abilities help. But they're not magic buttons. They guide me, they enhance—but they don't do.

"War hammer." She showed me how to use weight. How to bring down a blow like a meteor, how to guard my body. When I tried it, the damn thing almost flew out of my hands. My own strength worked against me.

"Control your power, fool," she snapped. "Raw strength without precision is just noise."

This is humbling. I thought my stats made me badass. But I'm just a rookie with expensive gear.

"Spear."

The moment I held it, something clicked. Balance. Reach. Rhythm. My Predatory Instincts fed me spacing. I could feel where to stand, how far to strike.

But then she attacked.

First strike—I blocked it. Barely.

Second strike—flat on my back.

She didn't hold back even for a second.

"You have the raw materials," she said, standing over me like judgment. "Enhanced senses. A body shaped by power. A Primordial core that adapts in real time."

She paused. Then said it like a sentence: "But you are unshaped. Crude. Untested."

She raised her hand.

The air shimmered.

Magic surged through the ground.

Dozens of figures began forming—human-shaped constructs of steel and glowing arcane runes. They weren't statues. They moved. Fluid. Aware. Dangerous.

These were magical training constructs—combat golems fused with mana cores and steel hearts. They didn't feel like practice.

They felt like blood waiting to be spilled.

__

A/N: Guys let me see that support, we're now stepping into the core of this journey. Watch out. @PlasticBag, thanks for the comments and I will improve as much as possible.