Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

Kayvan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're right. Beating you so easily does feel a bit dull. Let's change things up. From now on, I'll teach you something different—how to get hit."

"Get hit?" Joe echoed, confused. "Is that really a skill worth learning?"

"Of course it is," Kayvan said. "If you want to fight effectively, you need to know how to take a hit. Dodging is great, but you can't always rely on it. Sooner or later, you'll get caught. When that happens, knowing how to take the blow can make the difference between survival and death."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Isn't avoiding damage just a matter of being quick on your feet?"

"That's part of it," Kayvan admitted, "but on the battlefield, you'll often find yourself in situations where dodging isn't an option. You need to learn how to absorb hits in a way that minimizes the damage. What posture to take, which part of your body to use—these are crucial. And let's not forget that battles aren't always one-on-one. Most of the time, it's chaos, with enemies coming at you from all sides. Learning how to take damage without losing your ability to fight is an essential skill."

Joe sighed again. "I guess that makes sense…"

"It's supposed to," Kayvan said with a grin. "Now, let's get started."

Kayvan shrugged. "Although these techniques seem impressive, they're not as useful as you might think. Space Marines don't go into battle wearing casual clothes. We have powered armor." Joe nodded, already familiar with the process of wearing the armor, which was as intricate as donning medieval knight armor. Dressing in powered armor wasn't a simple task, and Joe had also learned basic repair techniques for it. Power armor, he knew, was an advanced version of knightly armor, reminiscent of the kind machine gunners wore in games like StarCraft. These suits didn't just provide unparalleled protection; they enhanced the strength and destructive power of their wearers.

"There's no better defense than powered armor," Kayvan explained. "You can't outrun lightning or dodge beams. The enemy will hit you, no matter how fast you are. When that happens, your only defense is the armor you're wearing. If your powered armor holds, you're fine. But if it fails… well, it won't matter where you're hit. The result is usually the same. That's why I always felt techniques like these were of limited use. Still, learning them might give you a chance to survive just a little longer."

Thus began Joe's brutal lessons. He learned how to take hits deliberately, deciding whether to sacrifice his lungs or kidneys when necessary. He mastered how to let a blade pierce him in ways that caused the least damage and how to staunch arterial bleeding when it occurred. Joe was taught to remain calm, even if his intestines spilled out, so he could push them back and keep fighting. Thankfully, this training took place in a mental simulation where the injuries weren't real, making the process much easier to endure. It wasn't long before Joe understood his body intimately and could calculate when and where to take an injury if it meant delivering a decisive blow to his opponent.

The training transformed Joe's combat style entirely. Previously, he moved like a slippery eel, evading every strike to remain unharmed. Now, he fought like a berserker, willing to trade blows, trusting in his ability to outlast or outmaneuver his opponent. If an enemy slashed at him, Joe was just as likely to slash back, aiming to end the fight in one desperate exchange.

But this new style had its limits. Against a foe like Kayvan, a captain-level Space Marine, it didn't matter how much Joe learned or practiced. Kayvan's overwhelming power made these techniques almost meaningless. No matter where Kayvan struck, he could incapacitate Joe instantly.

Kayvan sighed, visibly frustrated. "This is a real problem. What am I supposed to do? My body's already in decline, and if I keep pushing…"

"captain," Joe interjected, curious, "what exactly are you worried about?"

Kayvan hesitated before answering. "My body is… withering."

"Withering?" Joe echoed, startled.

"Well, not exactly. That's not the right word," Kayvan admitted. "Here's the situation. I can still use my body, but only barely. Through observation, I've noticed something disturbing. My body is slowly becoming ordinary. The curse affecting me is weakening my bones and muscles. My second heart is starting to fail, and my third lung and second stomach aren't far behind. If this continues, I'll be… useless. And if someone as strong as me comes after you, you'll stand no chance in a traditional fight."

"Why would I have to fight someone stronger than me?"

Kayvan chuckled darkly. "Because enemies don't wait for you to be ready. They strike when you least expect it. If you want to survive in this world, you must remember two things: always be loyal to the Emperor and serve the Imperium. And second, make yourself strong enough to do so."

After brooding for a while, Kayvan finally came up with an unconventional idea. "Let's use the martial arts knowledge in your head."

Joe frowned. "That's mostly fiction. They're just concepts I've seen in movies and games. I don't know anything about real martial arts."

"That's fine. A concept is enough. I can build on that. Don't forget, I'm a close-combat instructor. I've killed enough enemies to form an entire army."

From that moment, Kayvan began experimenting. He meticulously analyzed every fight scene Joe had ever watched, breaking down moves and techniques to their core elements. He combined these ideas with his own combat experience, refining them into something practical. Once the groundwork was laid, Kayvan and Joe practiced together. What began as a mentorship relationship evolved into a partnership of mutual learning and discovery.

Kayvan's approach blended the calculated ferocity of a seasoned warrior with the creative flair of imagined techniques. Under his guidance, Joe began to develop a unique style, merging the discipline of a Space Marine with the ingenuity of a mind unbound by traditional combat norms. Though still far from Kayvan's level, Joe's growth was undeniable. The lessons were grueling, but for the first time, Joe felt he was carving his own path—a path that might just keep him alive.

Kayvan had always looked down on the ideas that filled Joe's mind. Boxing, karate, muay thai, etc to him, was nothing more than a refined set of fighting techniques. Sure, when practiced to the point of mastery, martial artists could perform feats that seemed almost magical to ordinary people. But it was no different than a skilled waiter in a Western restaurant pulling a tablecloth from under a fully set table without disturbing the dishes. It might look impressive, even miraculous, but in reality, it was just the product of endless practice—a showy skill with limited practicality.