In combat, the jab is one of the most effective techniques. It's a fundamental skill, mainly used to strike the opponent with the lead hand.
It may seem simple enough to learn in a single lesson, but mastering it takes a lifetime.
"When you throw a jab, the key is to target sensitive spots like the eyes or the bridge of the nose with light strikes, or use feints to confuse your opponent. The lead hand doesn't need to fully extend—it can be a quick flick, or a chain of jabs breaking through the opponent's guard."
"Timing is also crucial. A jab must work with footwork. Done right, it controls distance, creates openings, establishes rhythm, seizes initiative, and sets up follow-up attacks..."
In the open space, Samael moved with quick, shuffling steps. His arms lashed out from different angles like venomous serpents, the strikes carrying gusts of air as they stopped just short of Athena's face, throat, and other vital points. Some were heavy, some light, some fast, some slow—unpredictable and impossible to defend against.
Athena followed along, imitating the movements decently well, but her lack of experience showed. In live drills against Samael, there were always flaws in her execution.
The ancient serpent grew increasingly impatient, yet he stayed close, correcting her again and again, demonstrating each move until she finally mastered it. Only then did Samael breathe out in relief. He went on to give a brief explanation of the hook, the knee strike, the trip, and a few joint locks.
By the time the lesson ended, even the teacher was parched and weary. He waved his hand weakly.
"Alright, that's enough. Go practice on your own."
But Athena, who seemed to have developed a taste for learning, wasn't satisfied.
"Teacher Samael, I want to try these techniques in real sparring."
The ancient serpent rolled his dead-fish eyes. Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed Ana's deepening frown. His own brow relaxed as he exhaled in secret relief, then slumped back into his worn-out expression.
"Forget it. Let me rest."
"Just one! Let me try one! I promise it'll be quick!"
The eager Goddess of Wisdom pressed on, sweetening her offer.
"I'll wash the dishes for a whole month!"
"Fine. You try first, I'll explain afterward."
Samael stood still, serving as Athena's target. Soon he sensed odd glances cast his way from the audience. Straightening, he spoke solemnly.
"It's not about the dishes. The point is, practical drills really do have an excellent teaching effect."
"I may be tired, but as a teacher, making a small sacrifice for my student is only natural."
Just as he turned to the audience to defend his dignity, Athena, who had taken a step back, suddenly charged forward with force.
"Thud!"
Samael's vision went black. He crashed to the ground, his limbs pinned and locked tight.
The ancient serpent fought against the crushing pressure at the back of his skull. Forcing his eyes downward, he caught sight of the pale arms locked in a V beneath his jaw, and the full thighs crossing around his waist from behind.
Damn it! A naked choke!
If you think you're testing that move on me, forget about washing dishes for half a year!
Wait—damn brat, you're screwing with me, aren't you?
I never taught you this!
Samael's once-casual expression froze. His face twisted in bitter frustration.
Athena clung tightly to his back, her supple body arched like a drawn bow. Her limbs squeezed mercilessly, her pale skin digging into his flesh as their bodies pressed together.
The goddess's youthful form radiated vitality, but in this dangerous hold, every movement carried an unintended allure.
On the sidelines, Themis's lips twitched. She wanted to call for a stop, but as Arbiter, her devotion to rules bound her. Before the crowd, she couldn't show favoritism, and so she watched helplessly as this scene—looking suspiciously like something indecent—played out.
The monsters, simple-minded as they were, erupted with cheers. To see Athena, the student, subdue their feared "Black Devil" teacher in one move was a shocking spectacle.
But the moment a chilling glare swept over them, the air turned to ice. That killing cold silenced the jeering Typhon brood instantly, freezing them in place.
That vixen! Shameless!
From the audience, Ana, the violet-haired beauty, glared at the two figures entangled at the center. Frost spread across her cheeks as her teeth ground audibly.
Samael could feel the stares stabbing into him, searing his snakeskin like fire. He slapped weakly at the arm locked under his jaw, his voice dry and broken as it forced its way out of his throat.
"You little brat... That's enough... Let go..."
Yet Athena, triumphant, grinned like a fox that had stolen a chicken. She leaned close to her teacher's ear, batted her eyelashes, and murmured softly.
"Fine, but you must promise to accompany me tonight..."
Just as Samael had once claimed Chiron's treasured wine, the victor in this contest held the right to demand spoils from the vanquished.
As her voice dipped lower, certain suggestive words grew indistinct, while above them, thunderclouds gathered ominously in the sky.
Cold sweat the size of soybeans beaded on Samael's forehead. With a death-defying resolve, he unleashed a surge of monstrous strength, wrenching free from her hold. In a swift counter, he locked her shoulder and hurled Athena, who had been coiled around his back, forward with force.
Mid-air, the Goddess of Wisdom twisted gracefully, landing with a stomp. She showed no fear or anger—only a trace of regret—as she glanced at her teacher before decisively retreating to the spectator seats, signaling her defeat.
This left Samael, who had been seething with rage and eager to properly discipline his foster daughter, feeling as though he'd struck only empty air. Frustration welled up inside him, making him want to spit blood.
I'll deal with you later!
The ancient serpent glared fiercely at Athena. Long immune to such threats, the Goddess of Wisdom only blinked mischievously, her lips parting in a silent echo of the key words she'd whispered before.
What a failure as a mentor! Can't you spare me some grief?
Samael, utterly lacking the dignity of a foster father, pressed a hand to his forehead, his face darkening as he muttered curses in his heart.
Just as the strange atmosphere began to thicken among the group, a tiny Nymph no bigger than a dragonfly came fluttering out of the bushes in a panic. Upon seeing them, her face lit up with relief.
"Oh no! A terrifying poison dragon showed up near my home! Its head is as big as a small mountain, and it polluted all the nearby water—my mushrooms all died!"
At once, Samael stepped forward with righteous indignation and declared:
"Hurry up and eat! Two teams will work together to eliminate this poisonous dragon—that's your after-class assignment to complete on your own!"
With a new target to focus on, the tense pressure from earlier gradually faded away.
The students, who already treated the marshland as their own territory, immediately began preparations, quickly devising flanking strategies.
Before long, two spirited squads set off under the guidance of the Nymph, heading toward the waters dominated by the poison dragon.
Phew! Saved!
Samael exhaled in relief, silently rejoicing.
"In the blink of an eye, they've all grown up..."
"Yeah..."
Behind him, Themis watched the children vanish into the jungle, then slowly walked over, her tone laced with emotion. The guilty ancient serpent, his eyes shifting nervously, mumbled in response.
"Their figures have developed quite nicely too..."
"Hmm..."
Huh?!
Samael suddenly realized he had nodded along by instinct. His body went stiff, and his face turned deathly pale as he lifted his gaze to the vast starlit sky above.