Trash Warrior Becomes War God

CHAPTER 7

Marco's heart hammered as he lowered his training sword, the reality of what just happened crashing over him. He'd won. Against an eighth-level knight. At Level 1.

But as the adrenaline faded, clarity returned. He hadn't won through overwhelming power. He'd won because Giovanni didn't know the old techniques. Didn't expect combo chains. Didn't understand that warrior skills could flow together like water when properly executed. It was knowledge versus experience—and knowledge had barely edged out a victory.

If Giovanni had known what was coming, if he'd been prepared...

Marco pushed the thought away and extended his hand to the kneeling knight. "You're strong, Captain. Stronger than me by a long shot. I just had the element of surprise."

Giovanni stared at the offered hand for a long moment before taking it. "Don't humble yourself, boy. You beat me fair and square." He climbed to his feet, his legs still unsteady. "But I want answers. Where did you learn those techniques? Who taught you? And how the hell does a Level 1 warrior execute skills that shouldn't exist anymore?"

"Would you believe divine revelation?" Marco tried for a smile.

"No." Giovanni's eyes narrowed. "But I'll accept it as your answer for now. Just know this—I'm watching you. Whatever you really are, whoever you really are, you're either going to revolutionize the warrior profession or destroy it. And I need to know which."

"Noted." Marco turned toward Sofia, who was still staring at him with that mixture of awe and confusion. "Sofia, we need to talk about Vincent."

"Vincent?" Sofia blinked. "Derek, you just beat an eighth-level knight and you want to talk about my duel?"

"Your duel is in two days. We don't have time to celebrate." Marco gestured toward the practice rooms. "Come on. I'm going to train you."

"You're going to—" Sofia's laugh was half-hysterical. "Marco, I appreciate the offer, but you're Level 1! What could you possibly teach me about fighting an eighth-level knight that I don't already know?"

"How to win." Marco's expression was dead serious. "Giovanni, I need one of the private training rooms. The soundproof ones."

Giovanni crossed his arms. "You think you can prepare her in two days? Boy, Vincent is a monster. I've fought beside him in the Red Mountains. He's brutal, efficient, and completely merciless."

"Which is why I need two days and complete privacy." Marco met the captain's gaze. "Unless you want to see Sofia get torn apart?"

The silence stretched. Then Giovanni jerked his head toward the academy's east wing. "Room Seven. It's yours until the duel. But if she gets hurt in there, I'm holding you personally responsible."

"Fair enough." Marco grabbed Sofia's wrist. "Let's go."

As they walked away, Benjamin approached Giovanni, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Captain, I need you to understand something. That boy is more important than you realize. More important than any of us realize."

"What are you saying, old man?"

"I'm saying protect him. At all costs. That's not a request—it's an order." Benjamin's eyes held an intensity that made Giovanni step back. "I've sent word to the capital. The War Council needs to know what's happened here. But until they respond, his safety is your responsibility."

"An order? You're not in my chain of command—"

"I'm invoking Article Seven of the Military Charter. Ancient Authority in Times of Divine Manifestation." Benjamin's voice was iron. "The War God has returned his blessing. That makes me Acting War General until proper command structure is reestablished. Do you understand, Captain?"

Giovanni's face went pale. Article Seven hadn't been invoked in over five hundred years. If Benjamin was serious—if this was official—then refusing meant treason.

"I understand, Grandpa," he said quietly.

Benjamin's stern expression cracked into a smile. "Good boy."

Training Room Seven was exactly what Marco needed—spacious, soundproof, and stocked with practice weapons. Sofia closed the door behind them, her expression wary.

"Alright, Marco. What's this really about?"

"Vincent." Marco pulled a practice sword from the rack, testing its weight. "You've fought him before?"

"Once, in sparring. He destroyed me in under thirty seconds."

"What was his opening move?"

Sofia frowned, thinking back. "Glorious Battle Armor. It's his signature defense. Holy Light condensed into nearly impenetrable protection. I couldn't scratch it."

Marco's lips curved into a smile. "Glorious Battle Armor. Level 8 knight skill. Requires channeling Holy Light through seventeen specific nodes in a precise sequence. It's powerful, but it has a fatal flaw."

"How do you know that? That's advanced knight theory!"

"I studied it." Not a complete lie—he'd fought against Glorious Battle Armor hundreds of times in Sky Game. Knew its strengths, its weaknesses, its exact energy consumption rate. "The flaw is in the lower right quadrant. There's a gap in the light flow, about three inches above the hip. If you strike there with enough force and the right technique, the entire armor collapses."

Sofia's eyes widened. "You're saying I can break Vincent's strongest defense?"

"I'm saying you can beat him. But it requires learning a skill you don't have." Marco's expression turned serious. "Bastion Strike. Level 10 knight skill. It's designed specifically to break through heavy armor."

"Level 10?" Sofia's voice rose. "Marco, I'm Level 5! I can't learn a skill five levels above me! It would take months of training just to understand the basics!"

"You have three days. And I'm going to teach you."

"That's impossible!"

"So was me beating Giovanni." Marco stepped closer. "Sofia, I know things I shouldn't know. I have knowledge that doesn't make sense. You've already figured out I'm not... normal. So trust me one more time. Let me do this."

Sofia searched his face, then slowly nodded. "Alright. But if this doesn't work—"

"Then we try something else. But it will work." Marco gestured for her to sit. "First, I need to map your Holy Light nodes. This is going to hurt."

"What do you mean, hurt?"

Marco placed his hand on her shoulder, and Fighting Spirit surged through his palm, probing for her internal energy pathways. Sofia gasped, her body going rigid.

"What are you—"

"Forcing your Holy Light to flow in patterns it's not used to." Marco's voice was clinical. "Your nodes are underdeveloped. To execute Bastion Strike, they need to be much stronger. So I'm going to stimulate them. Forcefully."

His Fighting Spirit pushed deeper, finding the clustered nodes near her chest and forcing them to activate in rapid succession. Sofia screamed.

"Stop! Marco, stop, it hurts!"

"I know. But if I stop, you die against Vincent." Marco's hand didn't move. "Your fifth node is blocked. Sixth is weak. Seventh barely functions. We need all of them firing at full capacity."

"Please—"

The door exploded inward.

A young man in ornate knight armor stormed in, his face purple with rage. "Get your filthy half-blood hands off her!"

Antonio Martinez, Sofia's childhood friend and a Level 6 knight, grabbed Marco by the collar and hurled him across the room. Marco crashed into the wall, the impact driving the air from his lungs.

"Antonio, wait—" Sofia tried to stand, but her legs gave out.

"Did he hurt you?" Antonio knelt beside her, his hands glowing with healing light. "Sofia, what was that mongrel doing to you? I heard you screaming from the hallway!"

"He was training me!"

"Training?" Antonio's laugh was bitter. "That was torture! Look at you, you can barely move!" He rounded on Marco, who was climbing to his feet. "You disgusting piece of trash! I don't care what happened with Giovanni—you don't touch her! You don't get to hurt her just to satisfy your sick warrior fantasies!"

"Antonio, shut up and let me explain—"

"There's nothing to explain!" Antonio drew his sword. "I'm reporting this to the Tower Master. You'll be expelled for abuse, maybe even executed—"

"Bastion Strike!" Sofia's voice rang out.

The practice sword in her hand ignited with golden light. The energy was weak, unstable, barely holding together—but it was there. Unmistakable.

Antonio froze. "That's... that's impossible. You just learned the initiation? In less than an hour?"

"Marco taught me." Sofia's hand trembled, but she kept the energy flowing. "By forcing my nodes to activate. It was painful, but it worked."

"But Bastion Strike is Level 10! You're Level 5! The skill requirements alone—"

"Don't matter when you have a proper teacher." Marco dusted himself off, glaring at Antonio. "Who the hell are you to burst in here? This is a private training session."

"I'm Antonio Martinez, Sofia's friend since childhood, and a ranked knight of Kensington Academy!" Antonio's face flushed. "And I'm not going to stand by while some half-blood trash tortures my friend in the name of 'training!'"

"Your friend volunteered. She understands what's at stake."

"What's at stake is her life!" Antonio's voice cracked. "Vincent will kill her! Everyone knows it! This duel is suicide, and instead of helping her avoid it, you're filling her head with impossible dreams!"

"The only impossible thing here is your attitude." Marco stepped forward, his voice cold. "Sofia is stronger than you think. Braver than you'll ever be. And if you actually cared about her instead of just wanting to control her, you'd be helping instead of whining."

Antonio's sword came up. "You mongrel piece of—"

"Stop!" Sofia's shout echoed through the training room. The Bastion Strike energy flickered and died, but her eyes blazed. "Both of you, stop! Antonio, I chose this. I chose to fight Vincent, and I chose to let Marco train me. If you can't respect that, then leave!"

"Sofia—"

"Leave!"

Antonio's jaw worked, rage and hurt warring on his face. Finally, he sheathed his sword. "Fine. But if she's not mastered Bastion Strike in three days—if she goes into that duel unprepared because of your reckless teaching—I'll make sure you pay for it. With your life."

"Looking forward to it." Marco's smile was sharp. "Now get out. We have work to do."

Antonio stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to crack the frame.

Sofia slumped back against the wall, exhaustion clear on her face. "He means well."

"He's an idiot." Marco knelt beside her, checking her Holy Light flow. "But he's right about one thing—we're running out of time. Can you continue?"

"Will it hurt like that again?"

"Worse, probably. We need to push harder each session to force the nodes to develop properly."

Sofia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Then let's do it. If I'm going to die fighting Vincent, I'd rather die trying something impossible than giving up without a fight."

Marco smiled, genuine warmth breaking through his usual reserve. "That's the spirit. Now, let's start with the second sequence. This time, I'm activating your eighth through twelfth nodes simultaneously."

"That sounds horrible."

"It's going to be." Marco placed both hands on her shoulders. "Ready?"

"No. Do it anyway."

Fighting Spirit surged, and Sofia's screams echoed through the soundproof walls. Outside, students passing by shuddered at the muffled sounds, wondering what kind of brutal training was happening in Room Seven.

They had no idea they were witnessing history—the moment when ancient warrior knowledge merged with knight techniques to create something entirely new.

Three days until the duel.

Three days to achieve the impossible.

The clock was ticking.