System Mission: Seduce the Final Boss [BL]

Chapter 142: Yet another one

"But, um, what’s a good way to incapacitate someone? Like... for a long time?"

Blake asked the question almost absentmindedly while dragging a towel across the back of his neck.

His forearms burned from blocking strikes over and over again, and even opening his water bottle had started requiring more effort than he’d like to admit.

This was already the third day of actual combat training.

Surprisingly... it wasn’t going badly.

It was painful and, at times, humiliating. But well, not that bad.

Every lesson Myles gave seemed to fit together in Blake’s head almost immediately.

Once a movement was explained, he could usually reproduce it after only a handful of attempts. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but his improvement was fast enough that even he found it strange.

His skill was carrying him harder than he’d expected.

Across the room, Myles paused while rolling up one of the exercise mats. He slowly looked over at Blake.

One eyebrow lifted.

Blake immediately raised both hands.

"I-I mean, just out of curiosity."

The eyebrow stayed raised.

"I’m serious," Blake continued quickly. "It’s not like I’m planning anything. I just... who knows? It could come in handy someday."

Myles stared at him for another few seconds before setting the mat aside.

"There are ways."

Blake straightened slightly.

"Really? Well, teach me!"

"There isn’t one answer."

Myles walked toward the middle of the room, motioning for Blake to stand up again.

"It depends on what you want."

Blake frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"If you want someone unconscious, that’s unpredictable."

He folded his arms.

"Hitting someone’s head hard enough to make them pass out is dangerous. They can wake up in seconds, anyway."

Blake tilted his head.

"Seriously?"

Myles nodded.

’So it isn’t like in movies.’

"If you want someone unable to fight without seriously injuring them..."

He paused for a brief moment.

"...Control their balance and their joints."

Blake tilted his head.

"Joints?"

"I’ll show you."

Blake instinctively became a little more alert.

The words I’ll show you had become synonymous with you’re about to embarrass yourself.

"Relax."

"I am relaxed."

"You aren’t."

"I was emotionally relaxed, okay? You can’t exactly blame my physical reaction."

Myles ignored the comment.

"Stand naturally."

So he did, planting his feet shoulder-width apart, letting his arms hang loosely.

"Don’t resist."

"I’ll try..."

Myles stepped within arm’s reach.

Unlike when they sparred, there wasn’t any tension in his posture. His shoulders were relaxed, his breathing even, his expression as blank as ever.

Then he moved.

One hand gently caught Blake’s wrist.

The other settled behind his elbow.

Before Blake could even wonder what he was doing, Myles rotated his own body instead of pulling with his arms.

The motion was incredibly small.

Yet Blake immediately felt his shoulder rotate in a direction it wasn’t meant to continue.

Not painfully, just enough to make him instinctively bend his knees.

"If I continue," Myles explained calmly, "your shoulder becomes uncomfortable."

Blake nodded.

"...Yeah."

"So your body follows."

Without adding any more force, Myles stepped diagonally around Blake.

The pressure on Blake’s arm changed direction.

Almost automatically, he followed.

One step.

Then another.

His posture folded slightly.

And before he realized what had happened, he was kneeling on one knee with his arm gently pinned behind him.

"...What?"

"I didn’t force you down."

"You did though?"

"I guided you."

Blake twisted his head to look back.

Myles released his arm immediately.

"The body protects painful positions."

Blake slowly stood, rolling his shoulder, and nothing hurt anymore.

In fact, it hadn’t really hurt in the first place.

There had simply been a point where resisting would’ve been uncomfortable enough that moving with the pressure became the natural choice.

"So that’s why people comply..."

Myles nodded.

"If done correctly, it works. After that, you can tie the target up, for example."

"And if they don’t?"

"Then you let go."

Blake blinked.

"...That’s it?"

"You don’t keep forcing it."

The answer surprised him.

For someone as absurdly skilled as Myles, Blake had expected something considerably harsher.

Instead, his explanation sounded almost... restrained.

"It should only be used to escape."

’Right, but I wasn’t exactly asking for that.’

Blake thought about it for a second before asking.

"Can I try?"

Myles simply turned around.

"Go ahead."

Blake walked behind him, mentally replaying everything he’d just watched.

’Okay, okay... control the wrist, support the elbow and move your body. Not your arms!’

He reached out carefully.

His grip immediately felt awkward, it was a little too stiff and hesitant.

Myles didn’t move.

"Relax."

This time he loosened his shoulders.

Instead of trying to muscle the technique, he simply copied the angles Myles had used.

One hand wrapped around the wrist, while the other settled just above the elbow.

He stepped diagonally, rotated his hips and applied only enough pressure to guide the arm.

For a brief second, nothing really happened.

Then Myles shifted his weight to keep his shoulder comfortable.

Blake instinctively followed the movement.

Before he realized it, Myles had turned with him until his own posture naturally lowered.

The taller boy looked back over his shoulder.

"Good."

"...Wait."

Myles straightened.

"You understood quickly."

"I actually did it?"

"You did."

Blake couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

It wasn’t perfect, he knew that much.

The grip had been clumsy, and he’d hesitated halfway through the movement.

Still, it had worked.

His skill really was doing miracles.

For the next half hour, they practiced the same principle from different positions.

Standing face to face.

After grabbing a wrist.

After defending against a punch.

Even while moving.

Every attempt became a little smoother than the last.

By the end of the lesson, Blake’s movements had become noticeably more natural.

"We can stop here."

The moment he said that, Blake practically collapsed onto the edge of the mat.

His entire body ached.

His shoulders felt heavy.

His legs trembled every time he shifted his weight.

Grabbing his water bottle, he took several long drinks before letting out a satisfied sigh.

"...Can I ask you something?"

Myles nodded while putting away the training equipment.

"Was I... a good student?"

The question lingered in the air for a moment.

Myles thought about it before answering.

"Yeah."

Blake smiled faintly.

"Almost too good."

That made him laugh.

He scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed.

’Figures, my skill really is doing most of the heavy lifting...’

Without it, there was no way he’d be picking things up this quickly.

He’d never been athletic in this body.

After another sip of water, Blake looked back toward Myles.

"What about you? When you were learning all of this..."

He slowly turned around.

"Were you a good student?"

For several seconds, Myles didn’t answer.

Instead, he walked across the room until he was standing directly in front of Blake.

Before he could ask what he was doing, Myles raised one hand.

His palm gently covered Blake’s eyes.

The room disappeared into darkness.

Blake blinked in confusion.

"...Myles?"

"I wasn’t."

His voice was quiet.

"Just about average."

Blake almost scoffed.

’Average? is was absolutely no chance.’

This was the same person who could dismantle him in under a minute, predict attacks before they happened, and explain complex movements as though they’d become second nature.

All that while considering his career...

"Who taught you?"

The hand remained over Blake’s eyes.

This time, however, Myles didn’t answer immediately.

A nearly silent sigh escaped him.

"My uncle."

Blake’s eyes widened beneath the hand.

’His uncle?’

Carefully, he reached up and pulled Myles’ hand away.

"When did you start training with your uncle?"

Myles looked at him for a brief second, then he looked away.

"That’s enough for today."

His tone wasn’t angry, nor was it cold. He simply continued putting away the last of the equipment.

Neither of them spoke while changing back into their school uniforms.

As Blake pulled on his blazer, he couldn’t help replaying the conversation in his head.

Maybe he’d pushed too far.

He already knew that Myles almost never talked about his family.

Every single time the subject came up, his expression subtly changed.

Blake should’ve noticed sooner.

He should’ve been more careful.

By the time he finished packing his backpack, the awkwardness had faded into a quiet silence.

Standing by the front door, Blake adjusted the strap over his shoulder.

"Thanks for today."

Myles gave a nod.

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

Blake stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

The evening air felt refreshingly cool against his warm skin.

Stretching his sore shoulders, he slowly began walking toward the bus stop.

After two weeks of relentless conditioning and combat lessons, he finally felt... somewhat prepared.

He wasn’t confident, but at least, he was prepared enough.

He’d learned far more than he’d expected.

How to read someone’s posture.

How to predict attacks from subtle shifts in balance.

How to escape holds.

How to use leverage instead of strength.

How to put someone on the ground without relying on brute force.

Every lesson had been useful.

Even so, a knot of anxiety still lingered in his chest.

Tomorrow’s infiltration wouldn’t be a training exercise.

There wouldn’t be someone stopping punches inches before they landed.

Mistakes would have consequences.

Real ones.

Still, he wasn’t going in empty-handed.

Quite literally.

He still had the handgun he bought from the system.

Just remembering that fact eased his nerves, if only slightly.

Tomorrow was the day.

Exactly two weeks had been spent training.

Now... it was finally time to put everything he’d learned to the test.