Chapter 63: Master Irma
Orion stood in the training courtyard, his body sore from the week's grueling physical drills. He had begun to find a rhythm in his training with Varun, but today was different. Instead of the usual obstacle course or endurance runs, a new figure awaited him: a woman with short, silver hair tied back in a tight braid. She wore a sleek, black combat suit and exuded an aura of calm yet lethal precision.
Varun stood beside her, his arms crossed. "Orion, meet Master Irma. She's a specialist in hand-to-hand combat and one of the best martial artists in the Confederacy. From today, she'll be teaching you the art of close-quarters combat."
Orion blinked up at her, his curiosity piqued. "I understand why I need a weapon training since it helps the pilot adjust to the Mecha's piloting fighting. But hand-to-hand combat? But... aren't pilots supposed to fight ... well ... with mechas?"
Master Irma's sharp gaze met his, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "True. But a pilot who can only fight within the cockpit is vulnerable. You must learn to rely on your body as much as the machine. Besides," she added, her tone playful yet challenging, "If you can't even defend yourself in a fight, how do you expect to survive on the battlefield, let alone command a mecha?"
Orion straightened his posture, determination flashing in his eyes. "I understand."
"Good," she said, stepping into the center of the courtyard. "Let's begin."
The first lesson was far from glamorous. Master Irma began by teaching Orion how to fall—a skill he hadn't realized he needed until she sent him sprawling to the ground with a swift sweep of her leg.
"Falling properly minimizes injury," she explained, helping him up. "It's the first thing you need to master because, trust me, you'll be hitting the ground a lot."
Orion gritted his teeth and nodded, determined not to let her see his frustration. He practiced over and over, rolling his body to absorb the impact and springing back to his feet. By the end of the morning, his elbows and knees were scraped, but his movements were smoother, more controlled.