Demonworld Read Free Page B

strode in. He was a giant, both tall and wide, and his shining white uniform was topped by a wild mane of red hair and beard. The energy radiating from him was palpable. The line had barely formed when he marched up to one stooping male with a caved-in chest. With his head tilted downward and eyes burning fiercely, he said, “Look at me. Look at me. Do you see how my head is tilted? Why am I doing that? Why?”
     
    “ Because... it’s intimidating?” said the youth.
     
    “ No! It’s so you don’t jam the side of your palm into my throat and crush my windpipe!” A few laughed uneasily. “If anyone here finds themselves in a violent situation, I want to read in the paper that you ended the fight quickly by jamming the bottom of your palm into the perpetrator’s throat. LIKE THIS. See? And then I want to be able to turn to the obituary section and read about how the perpetrator didn’t fare so well because his wind pipe was crushed. Understand? Let’s go over it.”
     
    Wodi was thrilled and returned to the class again and again. Sevrik Clash was filled with a violent charisma, and espoused a philosophy of mystic chivalry meets barbaric pragmatism with dashes of trivia about ancient, dead civilizations that once practiced the art of beating ass. In between showing his students how to snap a kneecap out of place with a swift kick or how to conceal one’s intentions before exploding violently, he often reeled off helpful reminders on how to destroy one’s opponents both in and out of the training room.
     
    “ If you’re smaller than the other guy, don’t let it come down to a grapple. Strike, keep him back! Eyes! Nose! Throat! A guy with raw hamburger for a face won’t want to wrestle with you.”
     
    “ Be mindful of openings. If the fight lasts for longer than a few seconds, find or make faults in the opponent’s rhythm, so you can slip in and disable something vital.”
     
    “ If you’re in a fight, and you’re constantly on the defense, you can never hope to win.”
     
    “ Did you break your thumb on the opponent’s chin? Don’t let the pain sap your resolve; switch to your elbows. You’d be surprised how much destructive force Mother Nature put in that one joint. It’s almost like she hates your opponent as much as you do!”
     
    But the man was no drill sergeant. He did not call anyone a maggot or a shit-for-brains. He took an active interest in his students, almost as if he was searching for something among them, and was surprisingly patient for one who bore such authority. If the thing was purely a publicity stunt, it was carried out with exceeding tenderness.
     
    Once, when Wodi ended up on the mat after an awkward grapple, Sevrik stood over him and spoke directly to him. “Combat is like an entire life squeezed into the span of a few seconds,” said Sevrik, not bothering to help Wodi up. “If you’re not focused, if you’re not fully devoted to victory or to survival, then your first impulse is going to be to run or give up. Because it’s just too painful otherwise. You’re going to be amazed at how quickly you tire, how quickly you run out of air. That means... you have to make your will stronger than your body. If your mind keeps moving ahead, your body will follow.”
     
    Wodi remained flat on the mat. Sevrik continued. “Rhythm, momentum, and will are everything in battle. See the enemy’s rhythm, then disrupt it; feel the enemy’s momentum, then redirect it; ignore your enemy’s will, and crush his with your own.”
     
    “ How can I crush another person’s will?” Wodi asked.
     
    Without missing a beat, Sevrik said, “Show him you don’t fight to lose. Let him know he buried himself when he set his will against yours.”
     
    Wodi felt that he learned a great deal, but his strength never became very impressive. If he stood at a certain angle in his bathroom and the light hit him just so, then with a little imagination he could almost make out the curves of a few