To pretty much everyone's surprise, Doug insisted that Chester go first. He reasoned that it would be best not to make Chester wait, arguing that the boy would chase his worries around and around in circles through his own mind, building up his anxiety until he became such a nervous wreck that he got nothing useful out of the exercise.

There were holes that could be poked in his logic, but no one voiced them. On John's part, he was just happy he wasn't the one who'd been singled out first, and there was no way he was going to try and convince Doug to change his mind. Facing Doug's little lesson with no idea of what was coming sounded awful, and he was sure Chester was thinking the same thing.

Nevertheless, Chester swallowed hard, then nodded. The muscular teen was faintly trembling as he stepped forward, grim like a man approaching his execution. The rest stepped back to give them some distance.

"The name of the game here is a bit of desensitisation in multiple areas," Doug said, still in his loose boxer's stance. "We're not going to override any instincts in a spar, but a lesson in how to throw a punch and some practical experience with throwing one at a man's face could make all the difference, out there."

Chester stopped a few paces away. "So, what do you want me to do?" His voice came out flat and emotionless.

"First, you're going to punch me in the face as hard as you can."

A beat of silence passed. Chester stared at the old man expressionlessly for a long moment, then looked back at the others as if checking everyone had heard the same thing. When he got a nod of confirmation from Jade, he returned his gaze to Doug and said with a mildly trembling voice, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely positive. Doesn't matter how hard we try to stand between you and danger, the fact remains that your whole purpose is to draw enemy attention, and we're not perfect. You're gonna be in a fight at some point, and you're gonna want at least some basic grounding for when that happens."

"I've had some lessons," Chester murmured.

"What kind?"

"... karate, tae kwon do, Brazilian jiu jitsu." He sighed, shoulder slumping. "Never for more than a few sessions each, though. I was so uncoordinated. It was humiliating."

"Some knowledge is better than nothing. I assume you never got a chance to spar in those lessons?"

Chester shook his head miserably.

Doug turned his head, addressing the rest of them. "What about you lot? Any lessons? Been in a fight?"

Lily and Jade shook their heads, and John once again felt no inclination to mention the "fights" he'd been on the receiving end of. He didn't think those experiences would count for much here.

But he did have some things worth pointing out. "I have some Skills that give me combat ability, but I haven't tried them on people yet."

He didn't mention that he was debating whether to upgrade said abilities ahead of his own spar with Doug. He was undecided in general about how to approach that—he was pretty sure he'd already proven himself to be cooler in the eyes of the system, but he didn't know if 'losing' a spar in a training session might chip away at his superiority. Going back to having to assert dominance in conversation would be a pain.

And there's also the possibility that looking like I'm trying too hard to show off in what's supposed to be a friendly training session might be problematic? Eugh. Fucking hate having to think like this.

Unaware of his thoughts, Doug flashed a grin. "I'll look forward to seeing what those Skills can do for you. First, though…" he turned his undivided attention on Chester, eyes gaining a flinty resolve. "Hit me, Chester. Aim one right for the kisser. I know you know how to do it."

Chester took a single step forward, fists clenching at his sides, and pivoted his upper body, winding up what looked like a wild haymaker. There, he paused. "Are you really sure? I'm clumsy as a monkey with ice skates, but I was already pretty strong before all this. Now, with points and stuff… I don't want to hurt you."

"Kid, I used to do this all the time. Back in my day, before sports science and the invention of that 'concussion' nonsense, I'd stand there and let the boys take turns swinging as hard as they could, and I never went down. Doug the Thug has a jaw of steel." His grin returned, taking on a manic edge. "And if you do hurt me—which would be a great sign—then I've got a Spell to reverse the damage easily enough."

"If you're—"

"I'm fuckin' positive, kid. Get on with it."

Drawing in a shaky breath, Chester finally let the haymaker fly, turning on the spot to throw all his momentum into the blow. To John's untrained yet Skill-boosted eye, he had to admit it looked awfully clumsy, his arm far too straight, and he ended up hitting Doug with the wrong part of his hand, ending up with more of a close-fisted slap than a proper punch.

But it still hit with a meaty, sickening thud that was far too loud for a hit produced by a human hand. Doug's head snapped to the side, and the old man was left blinking. A red mark blossomed on his cheek almost immediately, clearly in the shape of a hand, and a lump quickly began to form. A beat of silence passed. Chester was rooted to the spot, staring wide-eyed, mouth moving uselessly.

Stolen novel; please report.

Then Doug grinned. He slowly turned his head back to its regular position, and said, "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

John held back a wince. There was definitely strain in the old man's voice, and it was the familiar tension of pain suppressed. How many times had he done the same thing throughout his life, vainly trying not to give his attacker the satisfaction of knowing he was hurt?

But as they watched, the hand-print on his cheek visibly faded in fast-motion, until seconds later it was like it as never there at all. The strain drained out of Doug's grin, and the pain in his eyes faded away until a more genuine delight twinkled there instead. "And look, not a scratch on me. If you'd done that to a weaker guy, they would have been knocked on their arse. Does that give you a bit of confidence?"

Chester was still for a moment, but eventually he gave a shallow nod. "You sure you're good?"

"Positive," Doug said, reaching over to slap a hand down on Chester's shoulder and squeeze. The younger man winced, but gave no comment. "Now then, I have a bit of critique for you." He nodded to the rest of them. "And you lot should listen in, too."

What followed was something of a crash course on combat, and John had to admit it was a bit more… brutish than he'd been expecting. Doug had claimed he was once a professional boxer, and so John had unconsciously associated that with professionalism and sports science and meticulous coaching and so on. But he supposed Doug would have been a boxer in a very, very different era. Maybe health and safety wasn't much of a thing back then. Or perhaps Doug had plied his trade in a seedier side of the combat sports industry.

Either way, Doug didn't restrict himself to teaching them the proper way to throw a punch, which John's Striker Skill had already injected into his brain. He encouraged them to press thumbs to eyes, aim knees to groins, to scratch and bite and pull hair and generally take any advantage when your life was on the line, though he declined to help them actually practise any of that stuff, even with his ability to heal himself—reversing time on his own body, as he explained it.

He pointed out the weak points to target, the spots where you could really make it hurt. John couldn't help feeling this was all a bit academic considering their magical superpowers, but Doug pointed out they didn't know if there would come a time when their abilities wouldn't be available, and weak points would be just as vulnerable to a magic bullet as a punch. John conceded both points, and took note of Doug's lesson.

Jade and Lily also got their turns aiming a punch at the man, once he'd helped them with the basics. Neither of them hit anywhere near as hard as Chester had, but they were far stronger than their relatively lithe frames had any right to be, owing to their stats.

Jade got the form down on her first go, and the sound of the hit was still sickening, but she only managed to turn Doug's head a little, and his healing only took a second.

"Really don't want to be fighting anyone," she said, strained.

"Might not get a choice in that," Doug replied. He patted her shoulder much lighter than he had Chester's. "Just as long as you know you can do it if the situation calls for it."

Jade nodded, but said nothing.

Lily's blow seemed slower and weaker, her form looked far sloppier, and Doug's head barely moved from the blow, but it took him a little longer to recover. Lily was left staring at her hand with a frown as she waited for Doug to regroup. It only took him a couple of seconds.

"Hidden depths, eh?" he said with a grin once he'd reversed the damage.

"I can kinda sorta maybe use my weak points skill to guide me a bit," Lily said, a little awkwardly. She was still frowning at her hand. "Feel like I hurt myself more than you, there."

"That can happen. In some cases, you'll be better off trying to gouge your enemy's eyes out."

Then the others stepped aside, and it was John's turn. Even as he approached, he still wasn't sure how to play this. He was genuinely worried that going all out with his Level 7 Strength would take Doug's head right off his shoulders, or at least hurt him beyond what he could reverse. It wasn't like the Spell was a passive ability that would activate on its own—if he was knocked out, what then?

At the same time, doing less damage than the other three was out of the question. So, he had to hit Doug hard, but not too hard, which was problematic. It would rely completely on his own judgement; his Skills had ingrained in him the knowledge of how to throw a punch properly, but there was nothing in the manual about how to gauge the strength of a blow he was throwing.

Briefly, he considered ways to talk his way out of it. If he framed it the right way, he could even claim he didn't want to hurt Doug, and make it sound like a brag rather than hesitance. But he knew that would just drop him into another pissing contest, and he had no doubt it would end with Doug taunting him into doing it. There was no way he was going to let this go.

So John stepped forward and took the stance his Striker Skill had imprinted on him, and closed his eyes to mentally prepare himself.

Thus, he didn't see the blow coming.

The air was torn from his lungs as a fist slammed into his stomach, his upper body folding around the blow like a piece of paper. His feet were lifted off the ground, and he went flying backwards. His eyes snapped open as Catfall kicked in. Glaring, he landed on his feet.

-400 Aura

"What the fuck was that?" he wheezed. His stomach felt like it had been hit by a cannonball. It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation, sadly. This wasn't the first time he'd been punched in the stomach without warning. Memories bubbled to the surface of his psyche, carrying with them the laughs of his peers and the sneers of those cruel bastards who pushed him around just for the sake of it.

Doug's grin was wilder than he'd ever seen it, and the old man's eyes were manic. He was already closing in, fists raised. "Did you seriously think I was going to let you punch me with all you've got? I'm not stupid, kid. You and me, we're going to fight, and you're gonna have no compunctions about hitting a man at the end of it."

"I've got no compunctions already," John growled. He found his fists raising on their own. He choked out, "Are you sure about this? You won't be any state to spar with the others if you face me first."

+400 Aura

Doug's answer was another punch, snaking through John's hasty guard and slamming into his chest, forcing him to stagger back another step. "Enough talk, brat. Show me what you've got."

Alright, John thought as he lunged, it's on.

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