Shattered Sanity

(House Argent Training Grounds)

For all his flaws, Riven Dawnriver was not a brainless idiot.

The moment Circuit told him that there could potentially be a fight arranged between himself and Gary Ironveil as early as two days from now, Riven had begun panicking internally, because he understood his shortcomings considerably better than anyone else.

Unlike most talented children his age, Riven had not spent the previous two or three years training beneath accomplished instructors, learning martial techniques and gradually developing a fighting style suitable for his affinity.

Instead, he had spent a significant portion of those years unconscious.

For months, Riven had remained strapped against operating tables while the Imperial Anatomist systematically reconstructed his body, breaking bones, lengthening tendons and modifying practically everything that could be improved.

And even after finally awakening, his immediate concern had hardly been learning how to fight.

He had needed to learn how to properly use his new body first.

Walking naturally without consciously thinking about every step had required practice, while something as ordinary as reaching for an object occasionally resulted in him applying considerably more strength than intended.

His balance had changed.

His reach had changed.

His height had changed dramatically, while muscles possessing considerably greater strength than anything he remembered needed to be coordinated with reflexes developed for a completely different body.

Riven had improved tremendously since then.

However, compared with children like Gary Ironveil, who had presumably spent years receiving formal instruction from some of the finest tutors within the Empire, Riven understood that his combat foundation remained embarrassingly shallow.

’I knew I was behind...’

Riven thought, as he stared towards the halberd within his hands.

He simply had not expected someone to test exactly how far behind he was within forty-eight hours of entering the Imperial Academy.

Over the long term, Riven wasn’t particularly worried.

His physical condition was exceptional, his Soul Vessel was excellent and his Storm affinity had exceeded the normal measurement limits of the Imperial Appraisal Array.

Once the Academy began providing him with proper instruction, Riven believed the distance between himself and more experienced students would decline rapidly.

But two days?

Two days was nothing.

’I need to somehow avoid embarrassing myself and the Dawnriver name.’

Riven thought seriously, as he released a long breath before tightening his fingers around the halberd.

Circuit had told him to practice.

So Riven intended to practice.

However, rather than mindlessly repeating the same awkward swings he had demonstrated earlier, Riven slowly closed his eyes as he searched for a recent memory.

The strange vision he had experienced while choosing the halberd.

Riven could still remember the man perfectly.

His appearance, his stance, the positioning of his hands, the exact distance between his feet, and most importantly, the manner in which the halberd had moved around his body.

So Riven replayed it in his mind, studying the first swing, before opening his eyes again.

’I see.... So he holds the weapon from here and positions his feet like this....’

Riven thought while repositioning his feet, as his left hand shifted farther down the shaft.

WHOOSH!

The halberd swept horizontally before nearly pulling Riven off balance.

"Again."

Riven muttered, as he closed his eyes and replayed the movement, before comparing it against his own.

"I see.... My hips rotated too late compared to his...."

He self analysed, before correcting himself and swinging again.

WHOOSH!

The second swing was slightly better.

WHOOSH!

The third even better.

WHOOSH!

The first several attempts remained clumsy overall, although Riven continued to make small corrections after each one.

Whenever something felt wrong, he stopped.

Closed his eyes.

Remembered.

Corrected.

Then repeated.

As slowly, the movements began changing.

Riven’s feet started moving alongside the weapon rather than after it, while his shoulders stopped fighting against the momentum created by the enormous halberd.

His hands loosened.

His hips rotated naturally.

And instead of attempting to overpower the weapon through raw strength, Riven gradually learned to allow its weight to carry one movement into another.

WHOOSH!

A horizontal sweep.

Riven rotated.

WHOOSH!

The opposite end passed around his body before the blade returned from another direction.

He stepped forward.

THRUST!

The point shot through the air.

Riven withdrew immediately.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Minutes became an hour.

Then another.

Sweat gradually soaked through Riven’s clothes, while his breathing became heavier and his palms began burning from repeatedly gripping the shaft.

Yet Riven barely noticed.

His photographic memory could show him exactly what the man from his vision had done, but memory alone could not reproduce the movement.

His body needed repetition.

So Riven gave it repetition.

Hundreds of swings.

Hundreds of thrusts.

Hundreds of small corrections.

Until eventually, the weapon that had felt foreign within his hands only hours earlier began feeling considerably less awkward.

"Better.... Much much better..."

Riven muttered, as although he understood that he was nowhere close to becoming an accomplished halberd wielder, there was at least a consolation in him knowing that he did not look absolutely ridiculous wielding the weapon anymore.

WHOOSH!

Riven pivoted once more as the halberd swept around his body, allowing its momentum to carry the weapon into another diagonal strike before smoothly recovering his stance.

However, just as he prepared to repeat the sequence, Circuit finally returned to the training grounds with a thick book tucked beneath one arm.

He initially intended to call out towards Riven, although the words disappeared from his mouth when he saw the young Lord practicing.

’What the...?’

Circuit wondered, as he simply stood there and watched.

The movements were hardly exceptional, and an experienced halberd wielder could probably identify countless imperfections, yet compared to the embarrassing display Circuit had witnessed barely two hours earlier, the difference was almost unbelievable.

Riven’s feet now moved alongside his attacks, his balance remained stable after every swing and, most importantly, the halberd no longer appeared completely foreign within his hands.

’Was he holding back on me earlier?’

Circuit wondered suspiciously, as his eyebrows slowly furrowed.

Because surely nobody could improve this much within only two hours.

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