Chapter 27: One Inch Punch Exercise

The landscape changed after a few steps into a certain direction. We seemed to be in a memory.

It was one that I was familiar with…

“Hah… Hah…” There was a young Clarissa panting while holding a wooden sword with a bloodied hilt.

Her hands had become a mess of calluses.

She didn’t seem to see us, and was only an illusionary image. Nothing like an Imaginary Spirit,

“What are we doing here?” It was strange that he knew about Clarissa’s importance to my heart.

And how these were the memories we both shared.

“To build your character.” Frankenstein spoke in a strange tone. He looked at me with a hint of… pity?

Why…?

“Enough riddles.” I tried to make him serious, but it looked like he was already speaking with sincerity.

“What do you think of your ‘Narration’?” His words suddenly made me feel like I was exposed to him.

Unable to hide anything in front of him.

“…It’s good.” (Adam)

“Is it?” (Frankenstein)

“It lets me gain skills more easily.” (Adam)

“That’s why your mind has become dull.” For the first time, Frankenstein looked like a teacher.

Someone I had to respect.

“Explain.” I demanded… since he’d gone this far.

“Your ‘Narration’ ability is beyond a Gift. It’s a Miracle born from the Imaginary God, the creator of this universe that layers every realm. Learning skills is the wrong way to use this, since it doesn’t simply function as the eyes of God.” (Frankenstein)

“…That’s why there were so many earlier?” (Adam)

“Not exactly, but you’re getting very close. The ‘Narration’ Miracle is the concept of the imaginary being expressed into reality. Only those who have a Miracle that compliments this can make full use of this. For example…” Frankenstein turned to me.

Then continued: “Legends and myths can become a part of reality. ‘Real’ history rather than fiction.”

When I imagined what that meant, I started to think of what would happen if King Arthur was real.

Wouldn’t an Excalibur appear along with him?

“It looks like you’re getting it right. Being ‘real’ is more important to anyone here.” (Frankenstein)

“Then why don’t you want it from me?” He had plenty of chances to kill me and take it himself.

“…You never read how Victor Frankenstein’s life had ended, did you?” The man made a sour look at me.

“Alright, then how am I using ‘Narration’ wrong?” It wasn’t useful. All it did was change perspectives.

If I didn’t have my Gifts, then Narration would’ve slowly driven me insane by with the ‘perspectives’.

“Empathy is the most valuable resource in existence. To experience what another went through can bring greater understanding.” These cheesy words made me want to just walk away.

“Be serious.” (Adam)

“Fine… I can’t teach you how to use it properly, but I can help you recover from overusing this Miracle in the wrong way.” Frankenstein decided to get on my level and point at the ghostly figure of Clarissa.

“You learnt how to fight from her experiences?” He asked, and I nodded in response to this inquiry.

“Forget everything you learnt.” (Frankenstein)

“And why should I?” (Adam)

“Your sense of self has been weakening because of what you’ve learnt. You have taken in too many traits from others.” When he explained it in this manner, I couldn’t help but think of my actions.

My personality had been growing chaotic and strange thanks to incorporating many memories.

Becoming more ruthless and ‘emotional’…

“If it wasn’t for your heavy personality, the other colours mixed in would’ve overpowered you. What happened earlier was like mixing various colours with black. Your inner darkness is persistent.”

“Thanks.” (Adam)

“That wasn’t a compliment.” (Frankenstein)

“Oh…” (Adam)

“Anyway, I’ll be teaching you a different way to fight personally. This way, you will have a foundation to work with.” When he said that, the image of Clarissa vanished. Leaving only us by ourselves.

“Look closely. Copy this.” It looked like he knew of my Insightful Savant’s ability to steal techniques.

He stopped in front of the sturdy training dummy and put his fist before it, then got into a stance.

The air around him changed…

The man dropped his foot and stamped down like a hammer, then used that recoil force to ‘shoot’ his arm out. It was a flawless motion that moved the internal ‘energy’… different from that of Mana.

It was more accurate to call this ‘Physical Force’.

A fist shaped dent appeared in the dummy, then it fully recovered. Returning to its battered state.

It looked like the memory couldn’t be altered.

“What’s that…?” I lifted a brow at the doctor.

“Your exercise. I want you to practice the ‘One Inch Punch’ for a while.” Frankenstein gave me a task.

“For what?” There was no need for this move.

“I’ll be teaching you my ‘Royal Guard’ Fighting Style, so I need you to become aware of how to maximise your strength even without using big swings.” It seemed like a reasonable reason.

I listened to Frankenstein and tried to replicate the technique. Standing in front of the training dummy.

I copied the movements of his body exactly.

By stamping on the ground, I used the recoil that flowed through my body and let it flow through me.

Eventually letting it release through my fist.

There was a complicated mechanism to this. It was to the point I felt it was inefficient as a technique.

Useless in an actual fight.

“Do you think this can really work?” I turned to look at him in doubt. There was something wrong here.

“I understand… Bruce Lee’s One Inch Punch isn’t a true attack technique, but something he used to show maximum impact can be created with minimum motions. Using the muscles properly.” He walked up to me and placed his fist in front of me.

Was he going to use it on me for speaking up?

But rather than that, his mouth kept moving:

“The two biggest weaknesses of the One Inch Punch is the requirements and limitations. To use this technique, you need an unusual amount of concentration. To land the hit, you needed to stay at a certain range. Simply taking a step back is enough for someone to dodge it.” Frankenstein deconstructed the technique to its components.

He moved his hand away after showing how impractical it was, but didn’t change his task.

“Still, you need to master it to start learning even entry level techniques of the ‘Royal Guard’ Fighting Style.” Frankenstein made his point. There was no need to doubt him anymore if that was the case.

All my worries vanished, and I decided to just go with the flow. I repeated the complex technique.

I used it again. Again. Again. Again. Again…

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My hand became sore over time, but I continued to try and get used to manipulating ‘Physical Force’.

It was actually quite fun.

Monotonous, but different from how Clarissa felt when she trained to hold a household on her back.

Time was no longer something I worried about.

It was only when I felt like I could complete many variations of this attack… did I call it ‘mastered’.

Only after moving my muscles in a certain way to do bigger damage close became second nature.

“You done?” Frankenstein asked with the patience of a Buddha. How long had he been watching?

“Pretty much.” I straightened my back proudly.

“Good. Now punch it normally.” (Frankenstein)

“What…?” (Adam)

“Try it.” Since Frankenstein was acting as my teacher, I listened to him without asking too much.

“Alright.” Like a regular person, I tried to swing my arm to hit the wooden dummy… but my hook failed.

It felt like my strength was discharging randomly.

I’d realised that the muscle memory from earlier had become a crutch, but didn’t want to admit it.

“People like to call what I taught you ‘Hidden Strength’. The Japanese call it something else entirely. Either way, it’s hard to go back to punching normally when you learnt it.” Frankenstein spoke.

His words as if consoling my injured pride.

“Then what’s the trick?” (Adam)

“There isn’t. Punch normally.” (Frankenstein)

“Hey, don’t tell me you-“ (Adam)

“You can’t do it?” The doctor interrupted me by speaking as if this was a challenge made to me.

After such a provocation, how could I lose?

Obviously, I had to show him what I was made of.

My concentration became unparalleled in the moment I’d turned back towards the dummy.

A fire in my eyes…

There was a liveliness that I hadn’t been able to show in a while. Especially not after ‘that incident’.

My hands constantly started hitting the wooden dummy again and again. I was swinging my arms.

It was harder to control strength the faster the body was thrown around, but I got more used to it.

Even though Frankenstein said nothing, I switched to kicks here and there to get familiar with striking.

Because I wasn’t going to let him fool me again…!

This time, it was ‘I’ who took the reigns and evolved my martial arts using what I knew.

Striking with both internal consistency and external harmony. A formless dance based on my instincts.

When I reached a certain level in throwing my own weight around, Frankenstein gave his praise.

“Almost done, but… Do you get it now?” Although I couldn’t grasp it at first, my body felt different.

No, it was easier to say my body and mind were more in harmony with each other than previously.

Mostly because I copied the ‘wrong techniques’…

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the Heavenly Swordsmanship I’d experienced, but that the ‘experience’ itself was incomplete. There was a gap between us that mimicry couldn’t overcome.

The way we saw things and simplified things on our own was already different. It was the difference between individual opinion. Yet here I was… I had somehow stupidly believed myself to be special.

That there was no technique that I couldn’t just grow into over time… An arrogance that bound me.

I was finally free.

My reflexes no longer reacted in odd ways that didn’t suit my physique. I’d grasped my limitations.

The difference in our reach, physical structure, the amount of power we could flex, and our own vision.

The difference in the way we analysed the world.

With that being said, I didn’t find the techniques I’d incorporated from Clarissa to be wholly useless.

But that was only because she trained hard…

She was the type to test out every variation of the same move. A scholar that ‘self-taught’ her body.

Thus, her experiences were easier to digest into something useful… At least in the physical sense.

It made me realise ‘Narration’ had new drawbacks.

While I wasn’t aware before it was pointed out by Frankenstein, but ‘experience’ was also polluting.

It was more like a Trojan horse virus.

While it seemed okay on the surface, the real damage it did to my sense of self was hard to tell.

Even now, that damage was too subtle.

“I won’t over-rely on ‘Narration’ to copy techniques from others.” When I said that, he seemed relieved.

“That’s good. You are strong enough already.” The man nodded his head, which made me frown.

“Then why can’t I beat you yet?” (Adam)

“…Who knows?” Frankenstein gave a fake smile.

“You do.” (Adam)

“Even if I did, why would I tell you?” (Frankenstein)

“You promised.” A teacher doesn’t hold back on crucial information. There was nothing to it.

“You know… This information will sound lacking to you, but…. Do you know how Mana works?” He put forth a kind of riddle that eluded me. I was unable to figure out if he was being honest or frank.

“Pretty much like ‘Energy’, right?” (Adam)

“Yeah… If that’s what you believe, then it must be right.” He said something that sounded important.

The meaning behind it still eluded me.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you get some real battle experience? I’ll help.” Frankenstein interrupted.

He didn’t even let me finish my thought before kicking me into the distance. I felt my chest cave.

Urgh… This was for a new future for my family.

I had to get it together now. Regain my senses and act like myself, rather than a bundle of memories.

Only that way could my actions have meaning.

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