Bell got up after a moment of catching his breath. Blood started to flow through his veins at accelerated speed. All his stiff muscles were starting to warm up like a dormant engine coming alive with each inhale.
He looked up at Alfia and spoke.
"Once...again."
The 'n' had barely left his lips when his eyes sharpened to a point. Air tore toward him—hair flying back in every direction, dust scattering upward from beneath his feet. One moment, there was nothing. The next, nearly his whole vision was covered by a dainty fist.
It froze a centimeter from his nose.
Not by her choice. Bell's hand was already there, fingers locked around her wrist.
"At least your instincts are acceptable." Alfia slid her arm free with a fluid pull.
Bell didn't let his guard down.
This woman throws a punch at a single word. If I relax, my face is getting bashed in.
"Thinking something rude?"
A whisper warmed his left ear.
Bell flinched and launched himself sideways, turning toward her mid-leap, fists raised—
Nothing in that direction.
He jerked his head aside by a fraction. A blurring fist sheared the air in two, passing right beside his cheek—pushing his skin in, leaving a thin line of red across it.
Bell spun and fired a punch. Thin fingers wrapped around it, stopping it dead. The dispersed force from their collision alone ruffled the bottom of Alfia's black dress.
Another fist screeched toward her face. She moved inward instead of pivoting back, her face sliding just along his arm, wind upturning her eyelashes.
Before he could pull his arm back, she was inside his guard. Two fingers pressed lightly against his abdomen. A tap. Just a tap.
A raised section behind Bell cracked. He hit it before he even felt her push, his back grinding against jagged stone. Dust rained down his neck. Blood filled his mouth.
"Your eyes track well," Alfia said. She hadn't moved from where she'd been standing. "Your body doesn't follow."
She touched me. That was a tap. And I still flew—
She was already gone.
No—below.
A leg swept through where his ankles had been, carving an arc across the ground like a hot knife through wax. Bell was already airborne, having jumped on pure instinct.
But Alfia's hand screeched from below, fingers already curled around his collar. Bell had an instant to process it before his world tilted. Sky where ground should be. Ground where sky should be.
He twisted his body, sliding back by landing on the balls of his feet, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake.
Bell looked ahead at Alfia, expression slowly turning flat. His fists came up to his chest, stance shifting. Feet shoulder-width apart. Weight dropping low.
The same stance Ares had used against him in their last fight. Pankration—an ancient Spartan martial art. Bell was a novice, full of openings. But everyone starts somewhere.
Alfia moved. Bell moved with her.
He didn't retreat—he charged, the way Ares used to.
A Spartan doesn't give ground. A Spartan takes it.
Raised sections to his left flashed past, turning into a single line of grey—a stark contrast to the still treeline further away outside. Grey and green smeared around him. Colors spilling outside their outlines.
His shoulder dropped mid-charge. A full-body ram aimed at her core—not a punch, neither a tackle. Just his entire body weight concentrated into a point of his shoulder, driven by his legs.
Alfia's palm caught his shoulder. For a split second, they were locked—his momentum against her mass. His soles scraped grooves in the stone below. Her arm trembled. Just barely. Just enough for him to see.
Then she redirected. Her hand rotated, and his own force was used to spin him past her. He stumbled forward two steps, shoulder burning where she'd gripped it.
"Hmm." Alfia hummed. "You changed your stance."
Bell reset. Shoulder forward. Weight back.
"It's Ancient Spartan."
"I can tell." Her head tilted.
Bell didn't wait for her to analyze it further. He closed the distance.
Three quick punches. Alfia's head weaved left, right, then stayed still—each fist missing her by a hair. He followed with a punch from right, his full weight behind it. She slipped inside the arc of his arm, her shoulder barely brushing his bicep. A feather-light touch against his ribs followed, making him flinch—
That's a feint.
He didn't pull back. He stepped closer. A Spartan doesn't retreat from a trick—he crashes through it. His forearm dropped across her neck, pinning her against his chest in a hold. His other hand wrapped around her elbow.
A Spartan hold. From here, there were no clean punches—only short, brutal work. Headbutts. Knee strikes. Elbows to the temple.
His knee drove upward.
Alfia's palm caught it an inch from her stomach. She pushed against his hold—just enough to break his grip—and slid out of it like water through fingers. Her heel caught him in the gut on her way out, a parting gift that folded him in two.
Bell's mouth opened. No sound came out. His organs groaned around the impact. He flew back—right off the city wall, straight into Orario below.
Alfia waited. A breath. Two.
When no one came back up after a minute, she walked over to the edge and looked down.
A white blur was dashing away, running with all his might to create distance between them.
Alfia looked at that and cracked her knuckles.
...
..
.
Meanwhile, Bell scrambled away without a care for honor, spar or practice.
For two days straight, I was being bodied by Ares in martial arts. Now, after waking up, I'm still being folded by my aunt in martial arts...
Can't I have some peace for once!?
Bell's legs did not stop. He didn't even glance back.
I just want to sleep in Goddess Astraea's arms, is it a crime?
A sonic boom tore behind him. Bell jerked his head back. Alfia had launched herself from the city wall, screeching straight for him.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Bell ran with all his might. Every ounce of power his body could produce, burning through his muscles like fuel.
I'll be beaten half an inch to death if I get caught.
He glanced back.
Alfia was closing in. Fast.
Where are you bastards from Evilus when we need you!? Can't you jump out right about now so that we can shift our focus to you?
Two white lines raced across Orario. One chasing after the other.
...
..
.
***
[300 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter]
[8 chapters ahead on P@tr3on = [email protected]/Not_Aaryan]
...
[Authors Thoughts]
It's family bonding time between Bell and Alfia, a little different from other families I reckon, breaking jaws, fighting against one another well beyond sound, the more someone loves you decided by how much your bones they shatter, I hope Bell doesn't get traumatised by that kind of bonding, I guess he won't but still...
...
I'll tell you all one thing about spartan martial arts that I found after deep research in how to write it in a novel. It's a simple sentence and if you follow it, writing that martial art becomes easy.
That is — A Spartan steps not away, never away.
You can see, whenever Bell is using it, he always steps forward instead of dodging.
... Anyway, have a superb day everyone!