Aaron was relieved that the General was finally using his name without the ‘sir’, but he quickly realized that dropping titles was harder than it seemed.
He found his own tongue tripping over the word “General” even as he tried to let go of the formality.
Pausing to steady himself, he focused on the request he’d been holding back.
“Um, Gen—I mean, Rykker,” Aaron corrected himself.
“Can you teach me how to fight?
I know we’re supposed to be researching a way to stop Tank without my fists, but I still want to learn.”
“My dear boy,” Rykker began, his raspy voice surprisingly kind.
He waved his handless arm dismissively, as if brushing aside a trivial thought.
“I don’t deem it necessary for you to learn how to fight.
I believe it is far better that you learn to defend.”
Rykker paused, letting the silence drive the point home.
“Currently, Aaron, you lack the discipline, courage, and mental resilience required for such a path.
But with the right training, you will gain those tools.
To challenge Tank as you are now?
You would not only face certain defeat—you would be broken in the process.”
“However,” Rykker added, a spark of excitement in his tone, “mastering your inner strength would indeed be a boon.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried the weight of centuries.
“True power, young one, is not about striking first; it is about ensuring you are the one to strike last.
Even the strongest foe eventually grows weary.”
***
“Listen closely, Sir Aaron.
If we are to see another dawn, we must forge a plan.
But first, we must define our purpose.
Fetch me parchment and a quill; we need this recorded in a ledger.”
Aaron grimaced.
“Please, just Aaron.
The ‘Sir’ part is cringey.”
“My deepest apologies, S— Aaron.”
Aaron retrieved a small bag of chips, a black ink pen, and a tattered red notebook labeled “P.E.” from his backpack, settling in at the kitchen table.
With a bit of enthusiasm, he crossed out the old title and scrawled “Action Plan” across the cover.
He flipped to the first page and wrote GOALS in bold, block letters.
Beneath it, he added: Step one: Learn to defend myself so I don’t die.
Step two: Get stronger… He paused to pop a chip into his mouth, the crunch echoing in the quiet kitchen.
“A logical beginning,” Rykker noted, though his voice carried the weight of resigned judgment.
“But your choice of sustenance is abysmal, young Aaron.
If you truly wish to command the battlefield, your vessel must exist in harmony with your mind.
Let your third objective be the mastery of self-discipline.”
Aaron looked down at his bag of chips, then back at the notebook.
He slowly scrawled: Step three: Eat better (Rykker’s orders) as he shoved another chip into his mouth.
“Discipline,” Rykker emphasized, his gaze fixed on the moving pen.
“It begins with the fuel you provide your body and ends with the grace of your movements.
“Okay, I’m cool with that,” Aaron agreed, crunching on another chip.
Rykker hesitated.
“Cool with that?
You are…
cold?
Do you require a warming blanket?
Why would you be pleased by a drop in temperature?”
Aaron laughed, spraying chip crumbs across the table.
“Oh, Gener—I mean, Rykker.
It’s an idiom—a figure of speech.
It just means I agree, not that I’m saying my body temperature is dropping when I heard your suggestion.”
Rykker eyed the scattered crumbs on the notebook.
“Well, your ‘agreement’ is messy.
I prefer my agreements to be clean.”
Aaron shook his head, brushing the crumbs away.
“Anyway, it means I accept the idea that I should eat better, not that I’m cold.
Ugh.
I’m sorry…
I’ll try not to use those types of phrases in the future.”
After twenty minutes of discussion, Aaron and Rykker finalized their action plan for dealing with Tank.
The list was as follows:
Action Plan: How to deal with bullies like Tank
Step 1: Learn to defend myself so I don’t die
Step 2: Get stronger so I don’t die
Step 3: Eat better (Rykker’s orders) so I don’t die
Step 4: Start a rigorous training program so I don’t die
Step 5:Practice de-escalation so I don’t die
Step 6: Develop a sense of situational awareness so I don’t die
Rykker looked at the list and couldn’t help but chuckle.
“It appears that you are quite adamant about not dying, Aaron.
You’ve written it six times.”
Aaron laughed along with him.
It was nice to hear a softer side of the great Grandmaster General as the man was almost always serious.
Humor aside, Aaron was satisfied with their plan.
While he knew that, with enough effort and determination, he could accomplish all of it, he couldn’t help but wonder which item to prioritize first.
Then he had a thought.
“Almost everything could be accomplished with the right discipline, but which was the right one?”
***
Aaron grabbed the notebook and headed to his room.
He slid into the chair at his desk and turned on his desktop computer.
Rykker’s invisible eyebrows raised, “What is this trinket?”
“It’s a gateway to all the information in my world.”
“A gateway?
How can a gateway form with no mana flowing from it?
Can we use this gateway to travel to different places?” Rykker’s voice echoed in Aaron’s mind, tinged with suspicion.
“How did you make the artifact glow?
Does a tiny sun dwell within it?
Or perhaps it is a scrying mirror?”
Aaron suppressed a chuckle.
“A computer doesn’t do any of those things, Rykker.
It’s a machine that uses binary code—a special language of ones and zeros, to process information instantly.”
“What’s a binary code?” Rykker asked.
“It’s how computers sort data into bits,” Aaron explained.
“Think of it like written instructions: the code acts as the letters, and the bits are the words.
I’m going to use it to search for the right discipline for our plan.
We can look up everything from fighting styles to caloric needs.”
“You seek wisdom from a shining slate?” Rykker scoffed, though his curiosity was obvious.
“In my realm, one seeks a Grand Master on the mountaintop in the Ancient Isles or survives a trial given by the gods.
But you simply tap your fingers on this black slab and expect the secrets of combat to reveal themselves?”
“It’s more efficient than hiking a mountain, that’s for sure,” Aaron teased, typing ‘effective martial arts for self-defense’ into the search bar.
“Watch.
The Internet is about to give us an answer.”
***
Rykker went silent for a moment, his presence hovering at the edge of Aaron’s vision as he watched in amazement at the miniature masters and pupils gracefully breathing and moving on the screen.
“I am deeply perplexed, Aaron,” the old mage murmured, his voice sounding like dry parchment rubbing together.
“How can you claim there is no magic when it is clear to me that there is?
How can this luminous glass object shrink and conjure people into it?” Exasperated, Rykker questioned, “Are you sure there is no mana?
Tell me, Aaron, where do they go when you turn it off?”
“Young sir,” the sorcerer continued without waiting for answers, his voice like a kid in a candy store, “observe the flow of—”
He paused, his invisible brows knitted together as he watched the Judo sensei execute a thunderous O-goshi (a full hip throw).
“Oh!
The man in the white robe!” Rykker cried out in excitement.
His wide-eyed awe quickly lessened into the keen squint of a critic.
“His footwork is balanced, true, yet his technique lacks the fluidity of the ‘Great Elements’ (flow and cohesion of the motion).
It is…
too rigid.”
Rykker’s attention was drawn to the video below.
“But the one beneath— him…” He watched carefully as the thrower turned his body with sudden cunning, wrapping the loins of his challenger, shifting the balance—a helpless weight of the opponent on his back only to toss his foe to the ground.
“It mirrors that move, that… the … the Fireman’s Carry we practiced in the gymnasium this morning!” He chuffed.
“And there!
That man!
He performs the ancient Qigong; I recognize the breath-work!
Tell me, Sir Aaron, can your binary code machine show us more of that one?”