I Can Only Teach You The Stances

The afternoon sun was well into its decline when John finally escaped Brighton Manor, the grueling meeting leaving his slumped form more drained than any dungeon run.

"Geez. Moira really isn't a fan of winging it. Or delegation." John gave a weary groan as he threw open the door to the little ramshackle shed, throwing himself into it before activating his World Shift.

As it had turned out, lecturing John was not the worst thing that Moira was capable of. He'd braced for arguments over group composition, expected friction between Kim’s Slayer instincts and her Order protocols. Those had flared, certainly, fiery exchanges punctuating the hours. But the real trial by fire, the true test of endurance, hadn't been ideological clashes. It had been trying to keep up with Moira, who had come to the planning table armed with what seemed like an inexhaustible supply of stamina and a terrifyingly detailed mental spreadsheet, dissecting the logistics of his planned non-stop training week.

Finalizing the groups had been trivial in hindsight, practically superficial compared to the discussions that came after. The rotations would start at midnight, with the first shift going to the nocturnal or the sleepless—Aclysia, Vallya, and Maera and Mithra, whose daytime naps kept them up plenty of nights anyway.

The second group became the 'human contingent'—Kim, Moira, Etriyya, and eventually Julianna Balventia. It had made an odd sort of sense, and Moira continued to insist that keeping as much of his abilities and his creations private as possible was only a boon, whether it was a bit of an exercise in futility or not. Sophia, Lerianna, Orria, and Shishun made up the last group, a powerhouse in its own right, and one John hoped could tear through dungeons the fastest of the three, even if his mana started to run low by the third shift.

But confirming personnel was merely the prelude. Then came the real descent into Moira's logistical labyrinth. Nearly three hours evaporated dissecting minutiae John would've dismissed as minor, or at least better dealt with as the situations arose. Composing an assortment of acceptable enemies, discussing what materials Moira and Kim's factions would each benefit most from being able to farm, those were things that John had expected. But that was only scratching the surface of where Moira took them.

They established rigid timing protocols, defining cut-off points precise to the minute for how late new Dungeons could be initiated within a shift. Contingency plans blossomed for every conceivable problem that could arise, from healers being depleted on mana, to overruns on shift times due to stubborn bosses or overly-sprawled out dungeon layouts, to the more obvious and severe issues like a group member being wounded or an emergency occurring in one of their homes.

Moira seemed determined to anticipate every snag, grilling him relentlessly on niche interactions John himself hadn't fully explored. Could Lord Brighton's potent, high-level healing interfere with dungeon reward mechanics, if he were considered an 'assistant' to the group? John had never tested having help outside of combat from someone as powerful as Lord Brighton or Adantia, only direct in-combat aid. His hesitant admission of uncertainty wasn't accepted. Instead, it triggered a cascade of follow-up questions, probing potential edge cases and workarounds as if she were meticulously testing a fortress wall for weaknesses before committing her forces.

It wasn't as if John hadn't known that Moira had a great deal of experience organizing major operations. He'd seen Moira coordinate city-wide defenses and Knight deployments, and he had even been included in some meetings directly, but those had mostly revolved around planning for the actual battles themselves—or at least for scheduling the most significant parts of preparation. He'd never witnessed this level of granular control applied to something like his training schedule, this deep dive into the unglamorous, vital bedrock of resource management usually handled by quartermasters and aides, not the Warden herself. The process was exhausting, meticulous, and, he had to grudgingly admit, terrifyingly thorough.

It was enough to make John grateful for the mundane, even relaxing chores awaiting him back at home. Cooking an early dinner for the others, a quick check in on the alchemy lab, and a chance to stretch his muscles were exactly what he needed. Playing with the kittens would've been more than enough to get his blood pumping, but John had something a little more purposeful in mind for that today. He didn't want to do any dungeon runs in the last few hours before things would kick off, but that wasn't the only way for them to prepare themselves.

It didn't take long to set up what he had in mind, either. With a fresh batch of potions and oils bubbling and swirling in the lab, and a quick knock on Aclysia's door, all that was left was to grab a stack of Steel Ingots from the storage chest and set out for the training arena. By the time that Aclysia joined him, he'd already had time to sort through his menus and eyeball a half-dozen different simple weapons.

"I came as you ordered, Creator John," Aclysia said quietly, a genuine yet dutiful smile gracing her lips. "Is this about my request?"

"Very much so." John nodded and added Aclysia to his group, gesturing to an empty space on the stone floor beside him. His eyes flickered across the array of menus, making sure he hadn't left anything unnecessary open as Aclysia strode over to join him. "You can join us. I think this will be a perfect time for you to train with us after all, actually."

"Thank you, Creator John." Aclysia was always so stiff it was difficult to tell by her posture alone, but an air of relief seemed to emanate from her all the same. "If I am a burden to your training, I will withdraw without complaint. I only wish to be of use to you, however I can."

"I'd say you don't have to be of use, but that never seems to change anyone's mind." A dainty curve of John's lips was all that hinted at the faces and conversations playing over again in his mind, the reminders of how blessed he was. "So instead of wasting time with that, I'll just focus on getting you prepared and giving you every advantage that I can. You said that you've been training with Yvara and harvesting materials. How have you been handling that? How do you fight the Barrier creatures?"

"I have found that strikes to the cranial region of these 'Barrier creatures' is generally an efficient method for most. Though when it comes to creatures that lack a humanoid anatomy, I am somewhat less effective," Aclysia murmured. "Or creatures with an unusual bodily composition. I often have to leave those to Yvara. I have been trying to learn some form of magic from her, but thus far, my successes have been limited, and not suitable for combat."

"Well, we all have our own strengths and weaknesses, and there will always be times that some of us are better suited for combat than others." John's eyes wandered down Aclysia's slender arms, resisting a quiet snort of amusement. Aclysia was so calm, so passive, that imagining her walking up to a Barrier monster and punching it in the head until it stopped moving felt... wrong, somehow. "But that doesn't mean we can't increase our own flexibility and give ourselves ways to adapt. I can work with you on the magic, but for now, I'd like to give you something to fight with besides your bare hands."

"That would be appreciated greatly, Creator John." Aclysia lifted the arm John's eyes had locked onto, staring at it herself. Her eyes narrowed, and her still-imprecise expression shifted to resemble something like distaste. "I would prefer to avoid damaging myself when possible. The first time that my arms began to crack was quite jarring."

"Your body cracked?" John couldn't keep the surprise or concern from his voice, his eyes roving over her limb rapidly, as if expecting to find some signs of crumbling that he had somehow missed.

"Yes. We were battling something Yvara referred to as 'granite golems' to harvest materials for her temple." Aclysia's expression returned to a neutral state as she recounted the tale, though the fingers of her right hand did clench rather protectively around her left wrist. "While in the process of dismantling one, I noticed cracks appearing in my right arm. The skin composite had torn, and the marble underneath was beginning to crack and crumble. Yvara noticed the damage as well—I believe the panic nearly caused her to faint. This happened a few days ago, while you were training with the others."

"Your arms look okay now. So, err, did you get it fixed? If not, I can try. Or I can ask Tricia what you need," John offered.

"Please do not worry, Creator John. I fully intended to alert you to the damage to my structure," Aclysia soothed. "But doing so was unnecessary. After clearing the dungeon and attending to Yvara's lightheadedness, we ended the material harvesting for the day. I was concerned that further damage to my body might render me incapable of fulfilling my duties to you."

"You're more important than any duties, Aclysia." John stepped a little closer to her, mind drifting away from the opened crafting menus. His fingers stroked along her arm, caressing the soft faux-skin of the Artificial Spirit's body.

"It makes me feel pleasantly warm inside when you say that," Aclysia replied, her emotionless narrative voice giving way for a beat, a softness entering her voice. "But do not worry. Yvara's attempts at healing magic had minimal effect, but my form seems to be capable of repairing itself. A few minutes after we stopped, I noticed the cracks beginning to diminish, and new material forming where small pieces of my body had fallen away. Within an hour, I was restored to full integrity."

John nodded, but his eyes still wandered cautiously over Aclysia's hands. "That's good to know, I suppose. Still, I think we should both agree to avoid testing out just how durable your body really is any more than strictly necessary."

"I have no desire to repeat the process, if it can be avoided," Aclysia agreed, wisps of eagerness teasing around the edges of her voice. She shifted in a way that he wouldn't have noticed on anyone less statuesque, rubbing a little more tenderly at her wrist.

"Conveniently, the reason I wanted you to join me out here should also help with that problem." John spread his menus out a little bit more, expanding the crafting tooltips so that the previews for each item were easily visible. Before them was a list of every weapon that his Crafting menu contained that looked even remotely understandable to him—swords and the other classics, of course, plus bows, shields, brass knuckles, trench knives, scythes, nunchaku, hell, he even included the weirder options like bladed footwear and explosive gauntlets. "Aclysia, I want you to pick out a weapon. Or two, or three. Honestly, I have so much mundane iron lying around and not very many efficient ways to use it, I could make you an arsenal."

"It would be most efficient to master at least one weapon before attempting to learn others," Aclysia noted as her eyes mechanically ran over each entry in turn. He couldn't tell if she was skimming or if she was simply able to take information in at a lightning pace; either way, she seemed to absorb the whole of it in little more than the time it took her to speak. "What methods of fighting do the others use?"

"A bit of everything. A fair amount of close-range combat specialists, a lot of hand-to-hand combat with natural weapons or bare-handed strikes, though Sophia has a sword now. For longer-distance we actually have a pretty broad variety. Shishun has a lot of throwing weapons and her lightning magic, Orria's specialized in nature magic and can use plants as weapons on the fly, and Vallya seems to have a new trick every time I see her fight, but she mostly uses illusions and fire-based magic. Mostly."

"I see." Aclysia glanced around a bit longer, but her eyes returned to the same point. "Which of the others is most skilled at receiving damage?"

"Generally we try to avoid getting too much experience with that." John chuckled, not sure if she was being serious, or if that was her attempt at a joke.

"I meant in a controlled fashion, Creator John."

"Ah. Well, we don't really have many defensive techniques," John admitted. "Vallya can use her illusions to make it harder to hit her, and Shishun is really good at getting out of the way. I used to have an ability called Shadowform, but I lost it in a change in my powers a while back, and I haven't quite gotten it back yet. Moira is usually with us when we get into the really bad situations, and her shield is pretty much unbreakable, from what I've seen. Other than that, we mostly just try to avoid getting hit."

"I think I would like to meet this Moira sometime," Aclysia murmured, reaching up toward the window that had her attention.

"I think she'd like to meet you too. She's the one who gave me your crystal." John glanced up, watching as Aclysia's fingers passed through the outline of one of his Crafting pop-ups. "One second. Sorry, only I can actually touch those, unless it's a group invite or something."

John grabbed the window and pulled it closer, taking a good look at the description as he did so. It was a heater shield, a fairly basic one, pure metal with no emblems or insignias emblazoned as part of the basic Craft cast. It was thick and sturdy, with a flat top, and sides that started out flat before curving to a point at the bottom.

"A shield? Not actually a weapon in most cases, but it does have some uses," John murmured. A shield as large as that would certainly be heavy, but then again, so was Aclysia's body, and it never seemed to slow her down much.

"I do not have the combat experience that you and the others do," Aclysia pointed out. "It is unlikely that I will be able to improve my skill or my stats quickly enough to contribute significantly in areas we are already strong. If I focus on defense instead, where the group seems weakest, then perhaps I can still improve our overall strength."

"Very logical..." John murmured, glancing between Aclysia and the shield for a few moments. He was hard pressed to say that it was a bad idea, though there was a tightness to his stomach when he thought about turning the lowest-leveled member of the fighting **** into their tank. "You'd be intentionally placing yourself in harm's way, though. A shield can do a lot, especially if we enchant it, but it's not perfect. Are you sure you want to be intentionally taking hits like that?"

"I can repair myself. Not everyone is so lucky." The words were spoken in the same deadpan voice, but they resounded confidently in John's ears all the same. "If I can take a blow for another and all that I must do is wait for a few hours to be fixed... I would rather experience that unpleasant feeling for my whole life than let you be harmed, Creator John."

There was a seriousness, a passion to her expression that shook John a little, comparing it to her usual state. His head moved in a nod before he'd fully considered a proper response, and his eyes flicked up to the windows again. "Alright. But you're going to need a proper weapon, too. Defense is good, but only if you have a way to finish things."

"Perhaps a sword?"

"Everyone loves the classics."

"It is the weapon which you and your allies have the most collective experience with. It would make the most sense for me to choose a weapon which others can easily instruct me in."

"You could still pick something just because it looks cool," John half-whispered, though he didn't waste any further time on silliness before he was Crafting. With one quick lesson on the basic grips and a minor adjustment to the shield's straps, Aclysia stood before him as proudly and staunchly as one of the Order Knights. Well, if they'd been caught in a dress, rather than a full suit of armor. Moira on a date night, perhaps?

"More like a date knight."

"Excuse me, Creator John?"

"Ah, err, shield high! Let's practice your stance. I want you to block every blow I throw at you. I'll correct you if I notice something that needs improvement, but you're going to mostly be self-teaching here, since it's not really my area of expertise."

"Understood." Aclysia spread her legs until they were a little more than shoulder-width apart, her left leg forward, shield raised until the top of it was just below her jawline. "I am ready, Creator John."

"Then have at you!"

John had never actually used a shield in any fashion that could be called "proper". But he'd watched Moira fighting more than anyone other than his own creations, and he could at least get Aclysia pointed in the right direction—sometimes literally, when a misstep on Aclysia's part or a shift in the shield's angle changed the way that it reacted to blows entirely.

If they had more time, and if Moira didn't have a hundred better things to be doing, John would have taken her to study under the Warden herself. But they didn't, and she did, and so Aclysia would have to learn on her own, by the feel of each practice blow that John struck against the newly formed shield, the sound of each metallic clash.

John and Aclysia worked like that for over an hour. Much like John, Aclysia seemed to have impressive stamina, perhaps even infinite. John was worried that the repetition and slow speed of the practice blows would become agonizing, but it was actually comforting in an unexpected way, almost nostalgic. The process brought back memories of John's first days with the Order, of the hours spent training in the yard with Etriyya, being drilled in the basic stances over and over.

Once Aclysia was confident in her footing, when unexpected angles no longer put her balance in peril and she was starting to anticipate the arc of each swing, John called an end to the repetitive exercise.

"Alright, that's enough of the pure blocking." John didn't really sweat often anymore, but he still found himself almost instinctively swiping at his brow. "Just remember, in the field, they're going to be coming at you a lot faster, and a lot harder. As you start to get stronger we'll have to enchant that shield."

"I will work hard to earn my share of the materials required," Aclysia responded dutifully. She bowed her head—and then her hand moved over her chest in a gesture that John didn't quite recognize, dancing between her heart and what would've been a human's sternum.

"What was that?"

"What was- oh," Aclysia blinked, seeming startled by the question. "It's a... a vow. Of service, one Yvara taught me. She said it was often used by the attendants of the temples in her home. Yvara said that it was a ritual to show thanks and devotion to the Lord and his temples, even before his arrival."

"You know, I told you that you don't have to worship me or treat me like I'm something special." John's words were genuine, though he found himself replaying the little gesture in his mind, finding something adorable about how affected Aclysia was by Yvara's worship, even if it was a bit... much.

"I do not have to. But I like to," Aclysia responded, her voice dropping a few decibels. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, Creator John. It simply feels... right, I suppose. To honor you. To keep you in my mind always, and thank you for the things I only have because of your gift of life."

"If that's genuinely what you want, I'm not going to scold you for it." John stepped closer to the Artificial Spirit. His free hand washed over the flawless skin of her right arm, tenderly affirming his sincerity. "I don't exactly feel comfortable with being treated like I'm some sort of god-like figure. Ever since Sophia hatched, it's been something I've struggled with, and at times I've tried to convince some of you to stop thinking like that. But in a way, if I keep telling people how they're not allowed to feel about me... I'm kind of telling them how they have to feel about me. Telling them that I don't accept part of who they are."

"You've been thinking about this recently," Aclysia said, the questioning tone a mere formality.

"Yeah. Probably should have started a lot sooner," John confessed, shoulders quivering with regretful mirth. "I think I'm figuring it out, though."

"I am glad to hear that, Creator John."

"You're not the only one. Now, draw your sword." John took a few paces back, fingers flexing gingerly along the hilt of his blade. "We're going to practice attacking now. I'm going to show you a few stances and how to properly swing that thing around. Once you've got it down, we're going to start adding strikes to the practice. I'll attack, you have to block and find an angle to strike back at."

"Affirmative." Aclysia slid into position again. Compared to when they'd begun training nearly an hour ago, the motion was already noticeably smoother, and her weight balanced much more evenly. "How long shall we train for this time, Creator John?"

John cast his eyes to one of the windows, unable to see much outside beyond the vague glimmer of a few stars and the dark outline of the alchemy lab to the east.

"My phone has an alarm set for just a few minutes before midnight," John clarified as his attention returned to the ivory-haired warrior-to-be. "We'll go until then."