The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 27: A Short Lesson

Hjálmarr's fist shot out, striking Alexander square on the face. Alexander crashed back down into the ground.

'Dammit.'

Alexander winced, his eyes watering and his head throbbing. "Didn't know you were this strong, dude," he muttered as he shakily stood up. "Shouldn't have you been able to put up a fight against those Golden Dawn attackers?"

"Golden Dawn?" Hjálmarr asked.

"Yeah, that's what those attackers are called," Alexander said, patting off the slight dirt on his clothes. "They're basically a terrorist group."

"Ah. Well, either way, I wasn't expecting such a quick counterattack. All it took was for that man to slam my head into the ground, I suppose," he said, rubbing his chin. "Strange event, overall."

Alexander shot his fist out at Hjálmarr. He was using that split second of a distraction.

But Hjálmarr simply tilted his head to the side. "I told you I wouldn't attack you until you hit me. Until then, the training's practically pointless," he reminded him.

"Okay, but you just hit me."

"You're still holding back, my liege," Hjálmarr said.

Alexander didn't respond to that. He simply grit his teeth and continued jabbing his fists at the elf. Well... at the air surrounding him.

With each of his movements, Alexander continued drenching himself in magic energy. Even as Hjálmarr continued, bobbing his head to the side, stepping back and forth to evade the attacks, Alexander was still getting faster, his strikes more precise and filled with force.

And with that, Alexander drove his fist into the elf's gut. A second impact burst, digging even deeper into his chest. That was Alexander's trademark magic attack.

Hjálmarr was quick to counter. He drew his fist back and readied himself.

'Again!' Alexander urged himself.

Alexander slammed his energy-dense fist into Hjálmarr's jaw, just as Hjálmarr's hand crashed onto the side of Alexander's head.

'He's different now!' Hjálmarr thought with glee. 'He's using a left jab immediately after the right! Even after reacting to my own attack! He's growing!'

Again, Alexander punched. And now...

Hjálmarr caught Alexander's fist.

Hjálmarr cleared his throat. "That was brilliant," he said. "But..."

That single word made Alexander let out a sigh. They had been "training" for nearly the past half hour. And even then, it was just Alexander trying to hit Hjálmarr.

That was the first step, apparently.

"A double impact," Hjálmarr noted. "That move stems from the flow of magic energy inside your already superhuman body. That's quite a move. An average magician wouldn't understand it as it hit him. And its power... The force behind this attack is magnificent. Or it would be. To an average magician."

Alexander paused, retracting his fist. "Wait, but weren't you just saying I have to increase the speed of the flow?"

"Yes. After all, most magicians have to consciously flow magic energy through their bodies. But!"

Hjálmarr continued with passion. "Thinking of your body as separate parts is what delays your energy. You're not wrong with your flow. But you're stuck there." He traced his hand across his chest. "The usual process is bringing magic energy from your core and spreading it through your limbs. That's what average magicians have to do.  Are you fine with being just that? An average magician?"