Dayyid would batter and humiliate a boy like Wilhelm in front of an audience, and maybe he might eventually mold him into a warrior if he didn't kill him first. Kahlil doesn't wish to emulate his teacher in that way. He'd rather be the teacher he wished he'd had, back then.

Wilhelm swings and Kahlil sidesteps, catching his forearm.

"Good, you passed the first test," he grins. "I worried you might argue more than that."

About even throwing a real punch.

He releases Wilhelm's arm.

"Now, pay attention too where you've just shifted your weight... feet, knees, hips, shoulders, forearm, fist..."

He starts launching into an explanation of how that balance and equilibrium he's been learning the past couple of days applies here, how it translates into more power behind the swing.