“So,” the man Det assumed to be Cups said as he strode forward, back ramrod straight. Maybe Det wasn’t right about him being a drunken master. This guy’s posture was far too good, his beard far too perfect, and his eyes far too sharp. There was no way this guy was six glasses into a bottle of strong whiskey, or whatever else he was carrying in those water—or maybe wine—skins.

  “You’re the lucky bunch who gets to work with me,” the man continued. “I hope you’ve been counting your blessings, because they’re about to run out. My job here is to whip you into shape. Whip being literal in this sense, if you were wondering.”

  The man pulled one of his hands from behind his back, holding what looked to be a three-foot-long reed. Just a regular reed, like you’d find in a swamp or wherever reeds grew. Det wasn’t exactly a reed expert, so he couldn’t say for sure, but that really looked like a reed. And something about it vibrated to Det’s senses. That wasn’t a normal reed.

  If he had to guess, that was somehow at least a D or C-rank reed.

  Det looked at Sage. Sage looked at Det. The other man nodded. He saw it too. That reed would sting.

  “And yes, if you’re wondering,” the instructor said, holding the long stalk of grass out to his side, “this will hurt. Even your ReSouled bodies. That said, with the proper training I’m about to give you. These birokks? If you fought them again with this, you’d cut them in half. If you didn’t, I’d be really disappointed. We’d have to start our lessons all over again.”

  Det looked at the reed one more time, and then back at the man. Could his claims be true? Bisecting a birokk with a thin piece of grass? Det would believe it for now. Until he saw different.

  But it wasn’t just Det who was going to get instructed by the man. No, Calisco had to step forward and open her big mouth, as she usually did.

  “Hey,” she said, pointing at the man. “Who the hell are you? You’re not Beauty. You’re not Beast. You’re not Captain Curly. Why should we listen to you?”

  “What,” the man said. “You want a résumé?”

  “If you’ve got one,” Calisco said, “Give it to Det to read, and he’ll let me know. I didn’t get isekai’d to read resumes myself.”

  “I bet you’d try to pawn it off on Earth to somebody else too…” Det grumbled, but both Cups and Calisco ignored him.

  “No résumé. But how about this?” the man said. And even before the word finished leaving his mouth, he was in front of Calisco, his hand extended.

  No, he wasn’t in front of her. He was where she’d been standing before that extended hand impacted and compressed her chest, sending her rocketing backward. The woman hit the ground thirty feet distant, bounced, rolled, and then skidded another twenty before finally stopping in the arena sand.

  With a slight exhalation of breath, the man put his empty hand behind his back.

  “After my training,” the instructor said to the rest of the party, “you will not only be able to see what I just did, you’ll be able to block it. The best among you may even be able to throw a counter, if you pay attention to the lessons I’m about to give you.

  “Not that you’ll be able to hit me.”

  “And if we did hit you?” Det asked. He wouldn’t just settle for being a punching bag.

  The man raised an eyebrow at Det, assessing him.

  “You’d need to be C-Rank,” the instructor said plainly. “I’m simply faster and stronger than you. I can dodge things you can’t even see happening. However, if you can make me dodge, that would be an accomplishment of note. Good luck.”

  The way the words left the man’s mouth, he didn’t have much of an expectation. All the better when Det proved him wrong.

  “Ow,” Calisco said from where she lay on the ground, slowly sitting up and rubbing the center of her chest.

  Det paused. The way she was moving. That didn’t hurt as much as it should have.

  Calisco seemed to get it too, as she rubbed her chest a little more, her face screwing up in confusion. Probably wondering why her ribs weren’t shattered from how fast and far she’d been thrown. Then she pushed herself to her feet, stretched side to side, rolled her shoulders, and grunted.

  “Huh. That kind of feels good. Like one of those massages that hurts like hell when you’re getting it, but pops you in all the right places. You got magic hands, mister?”

  “My intention,” the instructor said, “wasn’t to break you. Just to prove a point.”

  “Think you could do my back next?” Calisco said as she rejoined the others.

  Nobody answered her, their attention on more relevant discussion.

  “And your point is proven,” Sage said. “Would you be willing to introduce yourself?”

  “I’m pretty sure you should have been told my name,” the instructor said. “But I go by Cups.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cups,” Sage said. “My name is…”

  “Don’t care,” Cups interrupted. “Until I think you’re anything less than a bunch of toddlers carrying sticks and playing war, your names aren’t worth me remembering. My job here isn’t to coddle you. We’re not going to play daycare. We’re not going to sing Kumbaya around a fire. What we’re gonna do is beat the shit out of each other—that’s me beating you, in case you were wondering—until I’m satisfied that you’re not going to walk onto a field, trip over your own shoelaces, and kill yourself by landing face-first on an Uncored landmine.”

  “Uncored have landmines?” Det asked. That was obviously the coolest—and thus most important—thing Cups had said.

  “Some of them do, yes. But you’ll learn more about Uncored and their little tricks in one of your classroom lessons. This,” Cups extended his arms out to the sides, “is clearly not a classroom. This is the arena. This is where you punch things and get punched in return. I’m going to teach you how to do that better. Any questions?”

  “Questions?” Det muttered under his breath.

  “What’s up with all the water?” Calisco said, standing in line beside Tena. One of her hands pointed at the waterskins hanging across Cups’ chest.

  “These?” Cups said. “They’re not water. Wineskins. Haven’t you ever seen a wineskin? How old are you—wait, are you even old enough to drink? God, what did they… did they really give me toddlers?”

  “Meaning you actually are a drunken master,” Det said, not sure if he was impressed or disappointed by that. He had certainly watched his share of Jackie Chan movies, and he could admit, it was effective on screen. Having one as an instructor, that made Det have questions.

  “Yes and no,” Cups said. “I guess I should explain. Fine. Look, my magic is simple, as really most ReSouled magic is. When I drink something, it gives me a buff. Some things work better than others. Water does very little for me. Enough wine, and my body definitely turns it to power. These, though,” he tapped one of the skins. “These aren’t your average, ordinary, everyday wine.”

  “You’re also our alchemy teacher,” Tena said.

  “Bingo,” Cups replied, nodding in Tena’s direction. “These are self-made—let’s call them cocktails—that have more than your normal effect on me. Custom-crafted with my magic in mind. They are, shall we say, potent.

  “Sure, any of you could drink one of these and also benefit from them, as you’ll learn in my alchemy class. But when I drink these? Well, that’s an entirely different story. Let’s say I had a sip from this one.” He pointed at the second wineskin down from the top and continued. “And then did what I did to that little lady over there,” his hand gestured toward Calisco, fingers curling into a claw. “Putting it in words you’ll understand, if I’d hit her the same way after taking a sip of this, I’d now be clutching her still-beating heart in the palm of my hand.”

  “Cooooool,” Eriba said quietly.

  “No, not cool!” Calisco countered, her hand going back to the center of her chest where he’d struck her before. “How about we don’t do that? I’d kind of like my heart to stay where it is.”

  “That’s what most people say,” Cups said, face straight.

  “It’s okay, she doesn’t actually have a heart,” Sage joked, earning him a scowl from the woman.

  “We’re going to start with the basics now,” Cups continued. “Let’s get you all in a line facing me. Feet shoulder-width apart. We’re going start where every fighter needs to start, with…”

  “Footwork,” Tena interrupted.

  Cups’ eyes narrowed at her, but he nodded. “Yes, footwork,” he said. “It is literally…”

  “The foundation of fighting,” Tena interrupted again.

  Once again, Cups’ eyes narrowed at the woman, and Det had to force himself not to chuckle. At least it wasn’t just him she did that to.

  “Yes, the foundation,” Cups said. “Is there anything else you’d like to explain? Perhaps come up here and take my spot? Or maybe you’ll let me finish a sentence?”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “Uhhh…” Tena said, red rising up her neck as she realized her bad habit of interrupting had made another appearance.

  “We already learned footwork,” Calisco said while the Bulwark stood awkwardly. “Tena taught us.” She pointed at the other ReSouled who jumped a little at being called out. “Can’t we just move on to the next thing already? Like, punching? Or, kicking? Yeah, kicking… Det… in the nuts?”

  “Why me, and why my nuts?” Det asked.

  “Cause you’re not using them anyway.”

  “I’m going to kick you in…” Det started.

  “You’ve learned footwork?” Cups interrupted, and Det just let his words toward Calisco hiss into nothing.

  “Yeah,” Calisco said. “Tena is a good teacher.”

  Tena gave Calisco a look like she’d really prefer the other woman stop talking. Not that Calisco saw it, her attention firmly on Cups.

  “If you’d learned footwork, you wouldn’t have your ass covered in sand,” Cups criticized. “You would’ve been able to dodge, block, or absorb the momentum of my blow.”

  “You just said we couldn’t do that unless we were C-Rank,” Calisco said. “Make up your mind.”

  “He said we couldn’t hit him,” Weiss pointed out. “He’s correct here, too. With a proper foundation, his blow still would have sent you skidding back, but you wouldn’t have fallen.”

  “That is correct,” Cups said, even going so far as giving Weiss a small nod of approval. “Since that didn’t happen, let’s start with a very basic position of stability. Some of you…” he looked at Calisco. “… need to pay more attention than others.”

  With the words, Cups’ left foot lifted onto its toe, which he then slid in a perfect semicircle behind himself to plant at a ninety-degree angle to his front foot. From there, he crouched ever so slightly. The hand with the reed, he put behind his back. His other hand, he extended in front of himself, elbow slightly bent, hand up, with his palm facing him.

  “Little Miss Can’t-Keep-Her-Mouth-Shut, come here.”

  Unsurprisingly, both Calisco and Tena stepped forward. Upon seeing that, Eriba even took a step, though she was hiding behind her hair the whole time.

  “This is going to be one of those groups, isn’t it?” Cups said to no one in particular.

  “Yes, it definitely is,” Det answered for him, then shrugged when he got a flat look. “You asked.”

  Above and in the background, Det could see Captain Simmons chuckling like he’d heard every word being said. Really, Det wasn’t sure if the captain was getting more entertainment out of Cups having to deal with the party, or the party having to deal with Cups. Knowing Captain Simmons, he’d arranged it just for that sort of show.

  “You,” Cups said, pointing to Calisco, “can get back in line. You too,” he waved at hand at Eriba. You,” he pointed at Tena, “get up here. Stand across from me. Take the same position.”

  “Okay,” Tena said, striding forward.

  When she got about two feet away from Cups, she stopped, put her left foot behind her front, about shoulder-width apart, and dropped into a casual crouch. Det had adopted a similar pose while fencing, and he knew that in the right hands—or feet, since it was footwork—it was a stable position, and great for newbies. Not that Tena was one of those.

  “Come a little closer. Put the outside of your wrist against the outside of mine,” Cups said. “Foot against mine, and knees touching.”

  Det had a pretty good idea where this was going. He’d done the same exercise—or at least what he thought was the same—during his fencing classes. It was all about stability. Push-hands, they’d called it, though there may have been some other ‘official’ name he wasn’t aware of.

  “Now,” Cups said, “some of you may have played this little game before. What Little Miss I-Won’t-Shut-Up and I are going to do is try to knock the other person off balance by using nothing but our wrists and upper bodies, while swaying at the waist to defend ourselves, if need be. Our other hands will stay behind our backs, and while our knees may separate and come back together, they are not to be used to attack or attempt to trip the other. If either of your feet move, you lose.

  “Simple.”

  “Can I win by kicking Det in the nuts?” Calisco asked, then raised her hand when Cups gave her a look.

  “That would be moving your foot,” Sage answered so Cups didn’t have to.

  “Damnit,” Calisco said. “Your nuts are lucky, Det. Lucky I tell you. Like a rabbit’s foot. Hey, Eriba, let’s each cut one off and hang them from…”

  “Are you finished?” Cups interrupted. Thankfully.

  “Not really,” Calisco said and crossed her arms. “You’re not E-rank.”

  “So?” Cups said.

  “So that means you’re stronger than us,” Calisco said. “Of course you’re going to win.”

  It physically hurt Det that he was somehow impressed with Calisco for picking up on that at the same time she was threatening his family jewels.

  “While strength could give me an advantage in this exercise,” Cups said, “I am not going to use any of my greater strength, because I don’t need to. I shall limit myself to an approximation of mid-E-Rank. You, on the other hand, are welcome to use as much strength as you like. I am simply going to win through balance and skill.”

  “If you know you’re going to win, what’s the point of playing the game?” Calisco pressed.

  “The point,” Cups said, “is for you to try to win. You are not going to get any stronger by fighting people weaker than yourselves.”

  “This isn’t fighting,” Calisco said.

  “No, it’s blabbing incessantly in my ear and accomplishing nothing,” Cups countered, apparently having had enough of Calisco’s questioning.

  “It’s fine, Cali,” Tena said. “I’ve played this game before. I know how it works.”

  “Good,” Cups said. “Does anybody else know this activity?”

  Weiss, Det, and Sage also put their hands in the air.

  “Excellent,” Cups said. “Maybe you’re not complete toddlers. Let’s see how well you do.”

  With that, he looked at Tena and slowly started rotating his wrist forward, palm turning as it pressed toward the center of her chest.

  Tena, obviously having done the activity before, let her own arm bend while swaying gently back at the waist to absorb the pressure. Like watching a wheel turn, Tena’s hand arced in front her own chest, but didn’t touch. She then pushed her arm out to the side, diverting Cups’ momentum past her as she, in turn, took the advantage to extend her arm to circle toward him.

  Like water flowing—or churning butter—Cups absorbed the push from Tena with a practiced motion, allowing his own wrist to come close to his chest before circling out wide and changing the inertia of their wrists to push back toward her chest.

  With the direction coming back toward her again, Tena repeated the motion—her wrist turning, her arm allowing Cups to drive in deep toward her before she swayed back at the waist, dragging her arm out wide in an almost pris-de-fer-type motion—then pushing back in again when she had leverage. Around and around and around the pair went, three times each, swaying at the waist. Their arms moved fluidly, neither gaining an advantage nor a disadvantage. Cups, apparently happy enough with the progression, was the first to make a slightly different move.

  This time, when he pushed ahead, he nearly doubled the speed, forcing Tena to react far more quickly than she had in the previous rotations. Still, the woman wasn’t a complete novice—especially not compared to the rest of Det’s group—and easily absorbed the change in tempo, allowing her arm to circle back, her sway in perfect time before she used Cups’ own momentum to circle around and push back at him.

  Against somebody who hadn’t played the game before, the push and overextension would have left them off balance, and Tena would have won the match then and there.

  Cups, though, obviously wasn’t a beginner. This wasn’t his first rodeo. And though he’d pushed ahead, even leaning into the “attack,” he flowed back like a reed in the wind.

  No sooner had Tena’s hand pushed toward him than he pulled her wrist out wide and was pushing back in her direction again, already at that double tempo from earlier in the match.

  This increased speed didn’t seem to be a problem for Tena. She casually turned it from defense into offense, her feet never moving as she continued the swaying, pushing, pulling rhythm of the game.

  One, two, three, four rotations, Det watched the pair continue at that increased speed, once again neither of them gaining an advantage before, this time, Tena went on the offensive. Instead of increasing the speed, she slowed it down. She let Cups push in at his higher tempo, and while she dragged it out at the same pace, she hesitated there, then pushed back in again, slower, but clearly with more strength.

  Unsurprisingly, this wasn’t a challenge for Cups. He accepted it, swayed, then pushed back. This time, though, he didn’t let the rotations continue at the same speed. He ramped it up, going from half speed to triple speed in the blink of an eye.

  It was too much for Tena to handle without reacting. She managed to keep her feet in place, but a grimace crossed her face as she grunted, doing everything she could to absorb Cups’ push even as her own hand pressed against her chest, threatening her balance. Just in time, she managed to pull her arm out wide, taking Cups’ wrist with her before going on the offensive.

  Cups, though, didn’t go back on the defensive. Instead, even as Tena pushed—expecting to be able to drive his hand all the way back to his chest—the instructor immediately took the momentum and pulled her hand out to the side, cutting her usual rotation in half before once again pushing forward. This change, not only in pace but in dimension, finally shoved Tena off balance, forcing her to take a step back or fall over completely.

  “Not bad,” Cups said. “Not bad at all for a first attempt.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t use any of your strength?” Calisco asked, having watched the exchange.

  “He didn’t,” Tena said. “At least no more than I used.”

  “True,” Cups said. “I matched your strength, but I did not go past it.”

  “Well, then that didn’t look so difficult,” Calisco said.

  “You’re that confident already?” Cups asked her.

  “No, I’m that awesome already,” Calisco responded, hands on her hips.

  “Okay, then why don’t you come up here and prove it,” Cups said, once again lifting his hand into the ready position. His feet hadn’t moved, even after beating Tena at the little game. Really, the man looked like a hurricane wouldn’t move him if he didn’t want it to be moved.

  “You asked for it,” Calisco said, sauntering up and dropping into her closest facsimile of the pose Cups had taken.

  Even before Calisco put her wrist against Cups’, Det knew the match would take all of zero point two seconds. Calisco’s feet weren’t far enough apart. The angle of her back foot wasn’t ninety degrees. Her hip was cocked too far to the side, and her back wasn’t straight. There was also far too much tension in her shoulders; she was expecting this to be a contest of strength when it was far more a contest of flexibility and stability.

  “You may push first,” Cups said. “Remember, our wrists must stay in contact the entire time. If you pull your hand away, you lose.”

  “You didn’t tell Tena that rule,” Calisco said.

  “Because she already knew the rules,” Cups responded.

  “Fine, whatever. Get ready to lose,” Calisco said, and basically thrust her hand forward like she was stabbing with a spear.

  Det could only shake his head. Cups immediately redirected the force of her blow, allowing her to lean too far in, overbalancing on her front foot before he cycled his hand around and pushed back.

  Calisco landed on her ass with a grunt—for the second time—as she was far too off balance to have any other outcome. She glared up at the instructor.

  “What the hell was that?” she said. “You definitely used more strength than I did!”

  “Not at all,” Cups said. “Just better balance.”

  “And balance is going to make us better fighters?” Calisco said. “Going to keep us alive better than learning how to hit things?”

  “I feel like I shouldn’t even have to answer that question,” Cups said flatly. “But I will. Yes, balance will make you a better fighter. Yes, balance will keep you alive. Yes, balance will even make you a better attacker. Better at kicking Det in the balls, as you would say.”

  “Oh, come on…” Det grumbled.

  “But those guys over there…” Calisco pointed to a group that had picked up spears and were swinging them around. “They aren’t learning balance.”

  “Because their instructor isn’t as good as I am,” Cups said. “He is trying to teach them to run before they can stand up, and relying on their ReSouled bodies to do the heavy lifting.”

  “Could we do that?” Sage asked.

  “If you want to get yourselves killed early, definitely,” Cups said. “Your ReSouled bodies can do a lot of things, shortcuts included. Driving Force—their instructor—will make them into good fighters, quickly, by leaning on that.”

  “Isn’t that the point of this training?” Calisco asked.

  “Would you be satisfied with only being good?” Cups countered.

  “No,” Det said. “I need to be great. Better then great.”

  “Which is why you got me,” Cups said. “Somebody else up there…” He pointed to where the headmaster still floated with several of the other instructors. “… felt the same way. So, I’m going to put you through your paces. Build you from the ground up. No shortcuts. Then, when you get in the arena with any of Driving Force’s cadets, you’re not only going to wipe the floor with them, you’re going to do it with one hand tied behind your back and a sandwich in your mouth.”

  “I do like sandwiches…” Calisco said.

  “Good,” Cups said. “Then stand up and let’s get to work. We’ve only got a few hours left today, and a lot of ground to cover. Let’s start with your stances.”