Steampunk Era: Mad Abield

If he were of neutral alignment, that last blow would have left him in pain for at least ten days to half a month, though it wouldn’t have been deadly, but anyway, he definitely wouldn’t be able to stand up again.

If he were of the evil faction, then that last hit to his face, if he could have left a whole corpse behind, that would be the gods taking pity.

"Thanan dueling techniques, how do you know how to do everything?" Mentor Emet Selk asked Malin.

"I picked up a bit, it was the Church mentors who taught me, elves are quite fond of Thanan dueling techniques." Malin said, noticing the half-blood finally acknowledging defeat toward him—a gesture of placing both hands in front of himself and bowing his head forty degrees.

Standard elf gesture.

Smiling and nodding, Malin turned his head towards the competition stands, "How long do you plan to stand there stunned, there’s still some time before it gets dark, need me to buy you some water?"

Thus, the training battle on the stage continued, Malin propped his cheek and watched, utterly bored, the middle-grade apprentices’ combat from other regions seemed like child’s play to him, and even more so when compared to the Carterburg apprentices he routinely trained with.

"Mr. Malin seems unimpressed with these children’s strength," said a fellow Church mentor from another region as he sat down on the bench behind Malin, smiling somewhat awkwardly.