The next couple of hours passed as the two continued to spar, with Vael tirelessly guiding Elias through each movent and correcting every mistake he made.
"Loosen up your footwork—it’s too rigid."
"Don’t square your shoulders when you step in—angle them properly, or it’ll ss up your movent."
"Stop stiffening your waist when you throw a punch. Rotate it. Use your waist joint to generate power—you’re leaking strength."
"Keep your guard up. You keep dropping your hand after every swing."
"Don’t look down when you dodge—focus on your opponent’s center, not your feet."
"Ti your breathing. Exhale when you strike."
Instruction after instruction, correction after correction, filled the air as ti went on.
Each mistake Elias made was followed by imdiate feedback. Vael didn’t let anything slide. But Elias didn’t complain. He took it all in—slowly and steadily—doing his best to improve. Every ti he made an error, he tried to fix it. Every ti he lost balance, he tried to correct his posture. He was learning, truly. But no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t land a single hit.
And that—was starting to wear him down.
His frustration started small: a clenched jaw, a furrowed brow. But as the sun began to set and his fists continued to swing through air, that frustration slowly built up—boiling beneath the surface.
Yet while Elias wrestled with doubt, Vael was seeing sothing entirely different.
’This rate of growth...’ Vael thought as he blocked another punch. ’It’s absurd.’
When they began, Vael hadn’t taken the session seriously. There was no need. Elias was untrained— a complete novice. But as ti passed and Elias kept adapting, absorbing every lesson, Vael found himself adjusting too.
His movents beca sharper, tighter. He was no longer just teaching. He had to be more careful—more precise. It was starting to feel like a real fight. The pressure on him was slowly increasing.
And still, Elias kept going.
’He doesn’t even realize how much pressure he’s putting on .’
Unaware of Vael’s thoughts, Elias continued, frustration bubbling stronger. They had the sa stats—equal strength, speed, and agility. Yet Elias felt like a child getting toyed with by a master.
How frustrating.
If anyone else heard Elias’ thoughts, they’d probably smack him for being ungrateful.
Vael wasn’t just any fighter. He was an Epic summon. Even after death—now as Elias’ undead companion—he still carried the instincts and muscle mory of soone who once stood at the top of the assassin world. His description didn’t lie when it said his targets only ever saw a shadow before dying.
And Elias?
Just a few days ago, he was an overweight guy on Earth who had never trained a day in his life—never even been in a real fight.
And now here he was, holding his own against soone like Vael.
For a complete amateur to push a veteran like this after only a few hours of sparring? That was pure, raw talent.
Yes, Vael had lost much of his forr strength. His techniques and mories were buried with his past life. But a true warrior’s instincts didn’t fade. Combat wasn’t just sothing you learned—it was carved into your body. A warrior who had trained for years didn’t need to think before moving; their body reacted on its own, driven by instinct and the power of experience.
But Elias was unaware of all this. Instead, he was getting more and more frustrated by the fact that he still couldn’t land a single hit.
’Why am I this weak? Why... how... how!’
He growled inwardly, teeth grinding, eyes burning. Every punch he threw carried that anger, that pain. The frustration of being weak. The fear of not being good enough. The pain of rembering a life where he never had the strength to fight back.
Each blow ca harder—heavier.
And Vael noticed.
The force behind Elias’ strikes had grown more violent, but his punches were getting more erratic—sloppier.
His movents had beco chaotic, a reflection of the storm building inside him. And Vael, through the bond they shared, could feel that storm rising.
The anger. The desperation.
Huff—
Elias lunged again, pouring all his frustration into a wild punch.
This ti, Vael didn’t dodge.
He sidestepped calmly, caught Elias’ extended arm, and redirected his montum with a simple twist. Elias stumbled forward, completely off balance. In one smooth motion, Vael stepped behind him, wrapped his arms around Elias’ waist, and lifted.
Elias was thrown across the field.
Thud.
He hit the ground hard, the air knocked clean from his lungs.
Pain exploded through his back and shoulder.
But worse than the pain... was the anger that followed.
’No... No... I can’t lose like this. I can’t! I have to fight—I have to win!’
He scrambled to his feet, body aching, hands trembling, rage burning in his eyes.
But just as he was about to charge again—
"Let us stop here for now, Master."
Vael’s calm voice cut through the fog in his mind.
Elias froze.
His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His fists trembled. His eyes—once filled with fury—started to clear.
He slowly looked up... and t Vael’s gaze.
Those green, undead eyes were expressionless. But through the bond, Elias could feel it—conflicted emotion. Concern. Even... guilt.
He looked down, sha flooding him.
"I’m... sorry," Elias muttered.
Vael tilted his head. "There is no need, Master. It was my honor to spar with you."
"No. It’s not just that," Elias said, voice shaking. "This was supposed to be a friendly spar, and I... I let my frustration take over. I started throwing real attacks."
His head hung low. He felt pathetic.
Back on Earth... his life had been hell. Bullied. Beaten. Used by people he once called friends. And he couldn’t do anything about it. He didn’t have the strength to fight back. He hated it—he hated them. All of them. Everyone who made his life miserable. Everyone who made him suffer. He hated the world for letting it happen.
But most of all... he hated himself—for being weak, scared, and too pathetic to change anything.
He had no power... not even over his own life.
He kept everything bottled up—the anger, the pain. He never let it out. And the few tis he did... it was always in the wrong way. He hurt the wrong people—people who tried to help. He pushed them away, unleashing his pain on the innocent instead of the ones who deserved it. And he hated that.
He thought that arriving to this new world and gaining power ant things had changed—that he had changed.
But now he realized...
He was still that sa failure.
Still that sa weak, scared little boy who couldn’t fight back.
Nothing had changed.
He clenched his fists, nails digging deep into his palms. Without even noticing it, tears began to roll down his cheeks.
# #
[AN_ Mass release of 5 Chapters today! Don’t forget to support the author!]
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