Close quarter combat, the final step in conflict. It is here that you face you opponent dead on,
without the safety of distance or cover. Here, you only have yourself. Discarding the weapons,
abandoning the blades, with fists and fury do we visit the oldest form of conflict in the history of
humankind. Striking, grappling, force manipulation, thousands of years of knowledge backed by
effort and experience, those who dare to challenge these fighters in hand-to-hand would not find
it an easy task.
Despite his… disadvantage, a certain knight was asked to accompany one Vivio Takamachi to
the fighting gym, if only to offer his advice.
“You are overextending that punch, lady Vivio. Recovery will take longer if you place that much
force behind the strike, and that window will offer the opportunity for a counterstrike,” Noland’s
hand blurred to stop centimeters away from Vivio’s head, a knife hand poised to strike her in the
neck. “Like so.”
“Uwah!” she exclaimed, leaping back into a guarded stance.
“Always be aware of your openings. You are most vulnerable after during and after an attack, as
well as while moving. Any move you make, I will intercept. A step forward, and I can strike your
knee. Attack, and I will counter. Always be two steps ahead of your opponent,” the knight spoke
as he stepped towards Vivio. Though she took a single step forward in return, Noland greeted
her with a low kick to her ankle, knocking her foot completely out from beneath her. A gentle
hand pressed against her shoulder, pushing her balance onto that lost footing, causing her to come
crashing down onto the mat.
“Whew! This is tough!” Vivio breathed as she pushed herself up. “Can we take a break?”
“Of course. You are doing well, lady Vivio. For one of your age and as a casual practitioner of
the Strike Arts, you are a very good fighter. All you need is experience.”
“Is Strike Arts a lot like the fighting arts you know?”
“Indeed. Elements of Strike Arts sound similar to what I know, and if I could see the techniques,
I am sure I would recognize some of them,” Noland nodded. A part of him was proud that the
wisdom and knowledge of the past was alive and well in today’s youth.
“Ne, Nolan, why don’t you teach martial arts too?”
“Ahh, I am afraid that I am unqualified for such a position,” he shook his head in negative.
“Rather, lady Subaru or lady Nove would be far more suited.”
“Ehh? Why not? I’ve seen you use Belkan martial arts, and they look really effective!”
“Perhaps martial arts is an inappropriate term…” the knight paused, thinking carefully of his
words. “What I know would be better classified as military arts, suited for combat and war. In
comparison, Strike Arts is more for self-defense. I fear what I know may be excessive.”
“Hmm… is it like Einhart’s then?” she asked herself quietly, then noticed Noland’s inquisitive
look. “Oh! Einhart Stratos, a new friend I made a little while ago. She’s a really strong fighter!”
“What is lady Einhart’s style?”
“Umm… Ancient Belka Old Style martial arts, I think it was.”
Under the wrappings, Noland blinked.
“Actually, that sounds fairly similar. However, I cannot say so unless I experience it for myself,”
he spoke, though a part of him wondered who would be able to know Ancient Belkan martial
arts. Much like the magic style, the combat arts of that time were mostly lost, kept alive only
within a few minds. In his case, perhaps those war arts were best left forgotten.
“You’re in luck! She’s coming over in a little bit with Nove and the others for a spar! You can
probably get a quick match in with her.”
And as if summoned by Vivio’s words, the aforementioned group came into the gym. Greetings
were exchanged, much to Vivio’s excitement. She immediately latched on to the quiet Einhart
Stratos and chattered eagerly with the girl, pulling her towards the training mat. When the older
girl saw Noland, however, she seemed… bothered.
“You…” Einhart murmured, her eyes wide, as if in disbelief.
Noland could feel her gaze on him. “Yes?”
“I know you.”
“You have me at a disadvantage, lady. Have we met before?”
“No, not personally. But I know you, Knight of Two, Noland Reiniger. You stood by the Saint
Kaiser Olivie’s side in innumerable battles. But… how is it that you are here?”
“Aha, you are very sharp, lady Einhart,” the knight chuckled. “But please, we can discuss that
later.”
“Ne, ne, Einhart! Do you want to spar with Nolan? He’s a Knight of Ancient Belka, so you two
should match up very well!”
“A spar…” she looked pensive, but thoughtful. Indeed, the desire to fight him was rapidly
growing; the knight must be a strong opponent, especially one from Olivie’s time. No… he is
a strong opponent, if the memories of Ingwalde were correct. The Saint Kaiser Olivie, and her
elite Knights of the Round… how many battles had the Hegemon Ingwalde lost because of them?
“Yes, I want to,” Stratos nodded with surprising conviction.
“Awesome! I’ll help you warm up!”
While the girls took to the side, Nove approached the knight.
“Hey, Reiniger. There’s something you should know about her… Since you’re a knight and all,
and Vivio’s friend.”
“What is it, lady Nove?” his reply sparked a minor flush on the cyborg’s face.
“Gaah, don’t call me lady! I don’t…” she sighed. “Okay, that’s not important. But you should
know that Einhart is a little…. Special.”
“Since when has lady Vivio’s friends not been special?”
“Ha! Yeah, yeah. But seriously, Einhart is like Vivio. She has the memories and skills of an
ancestor of hers: Kraus Ingwalde.”
To Nove’s surprise, Noland merely nodded.
“Is she now…” he murmured, facing the direction of the two girls. “Yes, she does have a
familiar… presence. I had not felt that in so long, I thought it mere coincidence. I knew him well,
if only as an opponent. If her connection with her past is strong enough, then I will remain wary.
She is no threat to Vivio, correct?”
“Err, no. They’re friends, now.”
“Much like her mother…”
Their conversation was interrupted with Einhart’s approach, though her form was… significantly
differerent.
“Adult mode, Einhart?” the red-haired cyborg asked, looking at the much taller girl. Instead of
her usual combat uniform reminiscent of the Ingwalde of ages past, Einhart was clad in adult-sized
protective padding and gym clothes. In stark contrast, Noland remained in his Knight’s Coat.
“Yes. It would be unfair for a full adult to fight a child. I felt it would be better this way too…”
“Ahh, it’s fine. Alright, you two. Get to the center.”
Upon the fighting mat they stood, calm and quiet. Nove was recounting the rules, while Vivio sat
to the side, almost bouncing in excitement. No magic, just a full-on hand-to-hand spar. Saluting
each other, Noland and Einhart slid into their respective stances.
“Fight!” came the call, yet neither moved.
“Why?” a faint whisper, barely loud enough for Noland to hear.
“She is a clone. Why do you stand by her?”
Ah. Vivio.
“I made a promise,” Noland whispered back.
“Eh?”
“As a warrior, as a knight, as a friend, I promised Her Highness, the Saint Kaiser Olivie
Sagebrecht, that I would live on as I wish, and to ensure that she live the life she desires.
Whatever lady Vivio becomes, I will support her with all my strength.”
At last, Noland moved, darting in close to deliver a powerful kick to Einhart’s defenses. Despite
her successful block, the power was enough to push her a full meter back. No quarter given, nor
mercy allowed, Noland was immediately before her, a fury of strikes that hammered her defense.
She could get no counterstrike out, not without incurring a riposte. Not yet… not… There! Now!
The opening was barely a moment’s length; one blink, and it was gone. Yet, it was enough for
Stratos to return the pain. Her fist lashed out, aiming to catch the blind man in the temple. Alas,
she struck only air, as Noland dipped just under the punch and let it pass by his head as the rest
of his body twisted low, his hip pushing her up as he pulled her arm over his shoulder. The girl
would recover from this shoulder throw, arching her body backwards and pushing her legs to
meet the ground first. Yet, as she landed safely, the knight’s grip on her arm remained, pushing
forward into her back and an arm wrapping around her neck.
“Trapped already? I did not expect a descendant of a king to be so easily defeated,” Noland
muttered into the girl’s ear.
“!?”
“Lord Hegemon Kraus Ingvalt was a powerful man, a mighty warrior whose wish was never
fully realized. He died bearing heavy regrets, regrets that his descendants carried upon their
shoulders. Regrets that you, Einhart Stratos, now bear.”
“What do you know about me?!” Einhart hissed back.
“I know nothing, but I do understand your frustration, perhaps even more so. Whereas you bear
the memories of the fallen king, I was there. I bore personal witness to the fall of Belka—No. I
am the reason why Ingwald failed. Do you not know?
“I am the Knight of Calamity. The fall of Belka was by my hand. I crushed Ingvalt’s army and the
Kaiser’s knights.”
“I killed Olivie Sagebrecht.”
She gasped; Noland abruptly lost his hold at Einhart’s sudden burst of rage-enhanced strength,
her restrained arm suddenly exploding with enough power to knock him a good distance away
from her.
“Do you hate me? Or is it your memories that incite such fury? How does it feel to face the very
enemy you failed to defeat?” the blind knight brought his arms up into a fighting stance.
“Come, child. Show me your rage.”
No longer did Einhart Stratos appear to be the quiet and subdued girl that Nove and Vivio had
come to know. No longer did the girl fight with melancholic eyes. Now, she possessed the fury
of centuries of remorse, Ingwalde’s buried wrath empowering Einhart and stripping away the
fears and regrets. There was no magic here, but raw strength, as she leapt at the knight with her
fists to bear. Her punches were thunderous within the training hall, the full force her explosive
blows crashing down upon Noland.
Yet, Einhart would grow only more frustrated. Noland weaved through her kicks and grazed
passed her punches with deceptive ease. Even his blocks seemed to dissipate the power of her
attacks. How is this possible? How can this be? Dammit. Strike him down, Defeat this bastard!
A knee slipped past his guard, crashing into his ribcage. Stunned, his guard lowers enough for
her to unleash a flurry of blows on his head. Jarring, sickening cracks and meaty thwacks as her
fists collided with Noland’s skull. The crunch of her elbow against the knight’s temple exhilarated
her, the feeling of his flesh collapsing under her punches was intensely satisfying. Never before
had this sort of fight felt so… so right.
Crush him. Destroy him. Show him the might of Kings! Show him the Ingwalde could have
saved Olivie!
A gloved hand suddenly enveloped her vision—no, it grasped her entire face and lifted her up.
Kicking, punching, nothing seemed to release this suffocating grasp. Up, then suddenly down.
Incredible, blinding pain exploded in her head as she was slammed down on the back of her head.
Dizzying, disorienting, horrible agony. Breathing was hard. Where the hell was she?
Oh god. Wh-what happened?! Her head wanted to implode and explode simultaneously.
Through her blurry vision, she could see his dark form as he stood over her. Judging her.
A failure.
He bent over, grasping the front of her shirt and lifting her to her feet. Odd, he sounded like he
was miles away…
“How do you expect to prove yourself strongest of the Three Kings of Belka, if you cannot even
defeat one knight? My experience is irrelevant; my history, inconsequential. Are you a warrior,
or are you a rat?!”
That relentless fury, a terrible ire that demanded that she still fight on. With a harrowing screech
of rage, Einhart brought her fist up, a Belkan spell triangle springing to life at her feet. A brilliant
glow encompassed her clenched fist, crackling with barely restrained energy. Unflinching, Noland
readied himself.
Things were getting way too dangerous, Nove thought. She was just about to call off the
match however, seeing the fiercely glowing fist of Einhart made her eyes widen in horror.
“Oh shit,” she whirled around and screamed at the gathered crowd. “Someone! Get a barrier up!”
“R-Right!” one of onlookers jumped to it, dashing over to a panel on the wall. Upon it, a large
red button, meant for emergencies such as this. Slamming it down immediately erected a maximum
strength magical barrier around the sparring field, letting no one in and nothing out. The last sight
anyone saw was Einhart’s fist crashing into Noland’s own. Then, a deafening explosion, one that
shook the very building. Dust and smoke clouded the insides of the barrier.
For the longest while, nobody breathed.
The dust settled. Noland was carrying the unconscious Einhart, once again a child. The barrier
went down, the danger passed.
“She is safe,” the blind man reported, much to the relief of those watching.
Walking over to a nearby bench, he lay the girl down and allowed Vivio to fret over her
unconscious friend, while a medic looked the girl over.
“You went too far there, Reiniger,” Nove did not even try to hide the glare she was directing at
the knight.
It was ridiculous: how did Einhart look so messed up, her hair and clothes ruined and her body
bruised, while he seemed like he merely got caught in a strong breeze?! No, wait. His right
hand was singed, the glove completely burned away and his sleeve blackened. He did not get
completely unscathed…
“Perhaps, but I wanted to see her at her fullest,” Noland sighed. “And… I wanted to make sure
of something myself. I only regret that I had to make her angry to do so.”
“She’s going to hate you.”
The knight nodded, a small bitter smile on his face. “I know. I am familiar with being hated.”