“Something seems to have changed these past few days, Brother.”
It was Audin, a master of devilish tongue-work hidden behind a simple smile. He would often say to stop training, that it was okay to rest, but if you actually did, he would hunt you down as if you were a rat. No, even a real rat wouldn’t be hunted like that.
Of course, Enkrid was quite satisfied with it. Where had the greed in his heart stretched its branches? Towards learning, towards the steps he took to move forward.
So, he always welcomed this kind of teaching. Next to the hulking Audin, who strode through the morning mist, Enkrid slowly squatted and stood up with his feet shoulder-width apart, putting a load on his thigh muscles. Audin suddenly reached out a hand toward Enkrid.
Enkrid instinctively blocked the hand.
Tap, tap.
It was wrestling, or hand-to-hand combat, a skill that the Balaph-style also called close‑combat skills. The hand that was struck away once continuously twisted, aiming for Enkrid’s body. When he grabbed, pushed, and twisted Audin’s hand that was trying to grab his shoulder and blocked with his own shoulder, a foot came in.
When he parried that, a large palm suddenly covered his vision again and pushed as if to crush his entire body. Pressed so tightly against him, Audin opened his mouth.
“You’ve improved a lot.”