Chapter 61: Ch61 – Combat Techniques

Training Hall Alpha was nothing like the training grounds.

Ryan stepped through the double doors and stopped, taking it in. The hall was massive, easily large enough to hold a couple hundred people. But instead of open space for drills or sparring, it was set up like a lecture hall. No, more like a university auditorium.

Tiered seating rose in neat rows, each level higher than the last, creating a steep amphitheatre that looked down onto a raised platform at the front. The instructor’s stage sat at the lowest point, positioned so every student had a clear line of sight.

Large windows lined the upper walls, letting in the morning sunlight. The light spilled across the wooden benches and stone floor, bright and warm after the cold pre-dawn training session outside.

Students were filing in, claiming seats, pulling out notebooks and crude pencils. The atmosphere was different here. Quiet and calm. A well needed break after Ryan’s previous lesson.

Ryan followed James and Jared up the steps, settling into seats near the middle. The benches were simple and sturdy, with small fold-out surfaces for writing that came out of the seat ahead.

Ryan pulled out a notebook he’d bought at the market, flipping it open to the first blank page. His hand still ached from the earlier training, fingers stiff as he gripped the pencil.

A clock hung on the wall near the instructor’s platform. 6:00 exactly.

The doors at the front of the hall opened, and a woman stepped through.

She was younger than the Body Conditioning instructor, maybe in her thirties, with sharp features and dark hair pulled back into a tight braid. She wore a knights uniform, well-maintained but showing signs of use.

She moved with the easy confidence of someone who’d spent years in combat, and teaching.

She reached the platform and turned to face the students, arms crossed, waiting for the room to settle.

The last few conversations died down. The hall fell silent.

“Good morning,” the woman said. Her voice carried easily, clear and steady without needing to shout. “I see there are a couple new faces here. So for those newbies, and those who have forgotten, I’m Instructor Cassia. This is Combat Forms and Techniques. You’ll have this class five times a week for the next year, assuming you don’t quit.”

A few nervous chuckles rippled through the room.

Cassia didn’t smile. “This is not a physical training session. You won’t be sparring here. You won’t be running drills. What you will be doing is learning how to think like a knight in combat. Tactics. Strategy. How to read your opponent. How to exploit weaknesses. How to stay alive.”

She paused, taking a sip of the water on her table.

“Knights fight differently depending on the enemy. A mage requires a different approach rather than fighting another knight. A beast requires different tactics than a human. If you don’t understand these simple differences, you’ll die.”

Ryan’s pencil hovered over the page.

Cassia stepped to the side of the platform, where a large board had been set up. She picked up a piece of chalk.

“Today, we’re covering anti-mage tactics.”

She wrote the words on the board in sharp, clean letters.

ANTI-MAGE TACTICS

“Mages,” Cassia said, turning back to the students, “are your natural enemy. They have range. They have versatility. They can kill you from fifty metres away without breaking a sweat. If you let them control your fight, than you will die.”

She tapped the board with the chalk.

“So how do you beat them?”

A few students shifted in their seats. No one answered.

Cassia continued. “You don’t beat a mage by matching their power. You can’t. You beat them by controlling distance, disrupting their casting, and forcing them into close combat which is where they’re weakest.”

She wrote on the board:

1. CLOSE THE DISTANCE

“Mages need time to cast. The further away you are, the more time they have to prepare spells, the more options they have. Your job as a knight is to eliminate that space as quickly as possible.”

Ryan wrote that down, his pen scratching across the page.

Cassia continued. “But closing distance isn’t as simple as running straight at them. A competent mage will kill you before you get halfway. You need to move unpredictably. Zigzag. Use cover. Force them to track a moving target. The harder you are to hit, the more mana they waste on missed spells.”

She wrote again:

2. DISRUPT CASTING

“Most spells require verbal incantations. Even silent casters need a moment of focus to shape their mana. That moment is your opening.”

Cassia turned back to the students. “How do you disrupt a mage mid-cast?”

A hand went up near the front. A student Ryan didn’t recognize.

“Hit them?” the student offered.

“Correct,” Cassia said. “But you’re not always close enough to hit them. So what else?”

Another hand. “Throw something?”

“Exactly.” Cassia nodded. “Small blades, in this case. Daggers. Anything you can throw fast and accurately. You’re not trying to kill them with the throw… you’re trying to force them to defend. Every time they raise a barrier, every time they dodge, they lose focus. Their spell fails. You gain ground.”

Ryan underlined that in his notes. Throw daggers to disrupt casting.

Cassia wrote the third point:

3. FORCE CLOSE COMBAT

“Once you’re within striking range, the fight is yours. Most mages are not trained for hand-to-hand combat. Their bodies are not reinforced the way yours are. One solid hit will break or even kill them.”

She set the chalk down and stepped back to the centre of the platform.

“Let me give you an example.”

The room leaned forward slightly, attention sharpening.

Cassia’s expression shifted, her voice taking on a storytelling quality now.

“A hundred and thirty-two years ago, the Rupes Kingdom went to war with the Thalassian Kingdom to the south. Thalassia was and still is—a nation built on water magic. Their water mages are some of the best in the world. They controlled the coastline, the rivers, the seas. Fighting them on their terms was suicide.”

Ryan’s pencil moved quickly, capturing the details, he wanted to know everything he could about other kingdoms.

“The war culminated in a battle near the southern border. Both armies met on open ground. Tens of thousands on each side. Knights, mages, archers, infantry. It was a massive battle.”

Cassia walked slowly across the platform as she spoke, her movements deliberate.

“After a few hours of battle, In the centre of the battlefield, the two commanders met. On one side, Emory Gleare—a Tier 5 water mage, one of the most powerful in Thalassia at the time. On the other side, a Tier 5 knight from Rupes.”

She paused.

“Gregory Talon.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Every man and woman knew that name.

Ryan’s eyes widened. Gregory? Field Marshal Gregory?

Cassia continued. “Emory was confident. He had the advantage of range, the advantage of magic. He began casting immediately—massive water constructs, high-pressure blasts capable of cutting through steel.”

She moved to the board and sketched a rough diagram. Two figures. One labelled MAGE, the other KNIGHT. An arrow showed distance between them.

“Gregory didn’t rush forward blindly. He read Emory’s movements. Every time Emory prepared to cast, there was a tell—a shift in stance, a hand rising, mana gathering.”

Cassia mimed the motion, her hand moving to her belt.

“Gregory threw a dagger. Faster than an arrow. Emory was forced to create a water barrier to block it. The barrier worked… but it interrupted his spell.”

She drew a line on the board, showing the knight advancing.

“Gregory threw another. Then another. Each time, Emory had to defend. Each time, his casting was disrupted. And each time, Gregory gained ground.”

Ryan now had forgotten to continue writing, like many others in the room, too absorbed in the story.

“Emory tried to retreat, to maintain distance. But Gregory didn’t let him. He advanced relentlessly, throwing daggers, forcing Emory to stay defensive, to waste mana on barriers instead of attacks.”

Cassia stepped back to the centre of the platform.

“Finally, Gregory closed the distance. Emory tried one last spell. It would have been a massive body of water meant to crush and swallow Gregory entirely.”

She paused.

“Gregory used a mana burst. A single, explosive dash. Faster than Emory could react.”

Cassia’s hand slashed through the air.

“One strike. Emory Gleare was dead.”

The hall was silent.

Ryan stared at his notes, his mind racing.

Gregory Talon. The same man who’d met with them in the military compound. That Field Marshal.

He was over a hundred and thirty years old.

Cassia let the silence linger for a moment before continuing.

“That fight demonstrates everything I just taught you. Reading your opponent. Disrupting their casting. Closing distance. Forcing close combat. Gregory didn’t win simply because he was stronger than Emory. He won because he took charge and controlled the fight.”

She turned back to the board and underlined the three points again.

“These tactics work. They’ve worked for centuries. Learn them. Master them. Because one day, you’ll face a mage on a battlefield, and everything I’ve taught you today will determine whether you live or die.”

Ryan glanced at the clock. 6:30.

After another thirty minutes of the lecturer going over other historical battles and techniques, Cassia set her chalk down.

“That’s all for today. Your next session is Mana Internalisation at seven-thirty. Don’t be late.”

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