Untitled

Abstract

Combat Empathy — a hypothesis on why "killing intent" is real.

You know the anime trope where a fighter senses an opponent's bloodlust before they move — Ki, or killing intent, that prickle on the back of the neck? I think there's real neuroscience under it, and it's not what people assume. We treat combat awareness as a form of aggression — but I'd argue it's the opposite: it's empathy, running under stress. The same circuitry that lets you feel what someone else is feeling is what lets a trained fighter read an opponent's intent a half-second before the strike. Your nervous system is modeling their emotional-motor state in real time — muscle tension, breath, gaze, micro-expression — and predicting what's coming. Gangsters and martial artists both do it; it's the same skill. Which leads somewhere strange: if empathy and lethality share the same wiring, then the highest "warrior" state isn't rage — it's total empathic awareness. And the dark mirror of that — the same circuit that lets a protector read intent to defend lets a predator read it to exploit. Yet read another way, it points somewhere gentler: if the highest combat skill is empathic awareness, then minimal harm becomes the goal, not maximum force — which fits the warrior cultures that aimed at exactly that, reflecting the more plant-heavy, even freegan, traditions among some eastern monks and martial schools. Combat intuition, basically, is empathy compressed by danger. The same circuitry that lets us kill teaches us not to — when mastered, reflecting the many warriors who became pacifists, or longed for peace in their later years.

----( Recommended reading music: Baki OST - Determined (Extended) On Youtube )----

Book 1. Chapter 1: Part 2 The Tide of Tydius Flow 1. The next day

A tall adult male was sleeping shirtless on a futon. Coiling-tossing. On the Temple's third floor, which belongs to the masters as their shared bedroom space, 5 large futons lying on hard wooden-boards. All 4 futons looked used recently, besides 1 futon clean and dusty closer to the southwest wall—5 meters away, from the tall animal—in morning grey. The buff animal starts to make noise, waking up in the morning, slowly transitioning from yawning, lying-stretching, bed-stretching. Then slowly—standing, walking over and looking out the south window, finally-muttering gibberish. Stretches right arm to the sky, left on elbow. Yawns, at the same time his mundane morning turned to thoughts = "Training brats. {A smirk forms as it fades.}. The rice rats is rewarding.. {His arms dropped, as he stood tall.} Mountain sword. {He looks over and behind his right shoulder, to the northeast corner, a large war coffer—eight foot long—four feet tall—six feet wide, old wooden box decorated with orange, yellow, and light brown fabric—falling off.} Sword mastery going—{His head slowly turned forward then stopped half way.}—nowhere. {He faced out the south window.} innovating my stylish style.. Is almost a fantasy..!" For a fraction of a second his lips shook. He then gave a tired smirk. Then he said in a low quiet voice = "Well! Time for morning sword training. {His smirk to a smile.}. His muscles blooming under the sunlight, waking with no shirt—and thin light PJ-pants. A man with long straight black hair, just past his shoulder blades, white with dark blue eyes. 5'11 tall, well-shaved face from heaven, presence from hell, for he had, like us all, a story to tell..!

The-Waking-Master slouched—walking almost stumbling, muttering morning frustrations over towards the war coffer. He then bent over, and unlocked the four-number combination lock on the war coffer. He gently opened the box, his right knee to floor. Beneath a sword and shield, his right hand reached for a mountain sword in its sheath. 165cm end to end. The Blade length was 120cm. At the base of blade 2.7 inches wide. Near the tip 1.65 inches wide.

The-Waking-Master turned and walked to his futon—Then faced north wall. He sat criss-cross applesauce, sword in the sheath—a-blade's buried teeth, leaning like an embrace—resting across his right shoulder—hilt at soul ease on the ground, between his right leg. pounds to hold material felt whole, cold steel as warm. Indexes and thumbs in a circle. He closed his eyes.. To meditate...

Silence!

No will release. To self appease.

In the silence

----(Recommended reading music: Japanese traditional metal — Gakusaku Shiki On Youtube )----

Inside eyes open! A world for his demise! A pitch-black-world in smoke. An elevated circular arena barely visible, embraced haze, for his scream without a sound! Surreal, locked, focused, seen through eyes. The-Waking-Master felt-saw shadows pulling. From all around. The emanating smoke! Forming! A man, an enemy slightly shorter yet buffer—vapors rising to sky—crawling down low, a wish—warrior to-test war of the soul.

The shadow of h-a-z-e, had two one-handed swords, each about three feet long in blade, blades four inches wide at hilt... A thick slash-and-slide!

In deep focus, his sword of choice a sword held past the wish, through meditation in embrace, in both hands. His mountain sword. In hand now he stands. Facing his enemy.

The shadow enemy circles, crouched over—mist vapor trailing to skies, motions-to-ties. The-Waking-Master stands his ground on guard, facing down the shadow—leading stream of steam. A planet's pull does not orbit—the moon; a shark swims around its prey—in battle, too soon to know the cascade—of the winning blade! Focused like his soul only sees, feels, body-mind-relives, flow, motion, emotion-of-instinct, ocean-of-truth!.. I write philosophical essays, hypotheses, and fantasy fiction book Crownose Chronicals.

Welcome to my first post.

I don’t yet have a SubscribeStar, a website, a dedicated location for all of my writing, or a community server. However, I’m currently working on building a stronger online presence and creating a permanent home for my work.

I am the author of Crownose Chronicles. The series is structured through chapters, parts, and subparts called Flows. Each Flow guides the scenes, pacing, and progression of the narrative.

Part 2, Flow 1 explores mastery—not as something romanticized, but as something lived through cost and experience. This will be the focus of my first fiction trailer.

I will also be sharing my first hypothesis, which examines warrior aggression in relation to Buddhist and other peaceful warrior teachings as an inevitable outcome of self-mastery. It will be presented through a psychological and philosophical essay.

My intellectual work covers a wide range of ideas. My goal is to pressure-test concepts, challenge assumptions, and explore questions and gaps that I believe are often overlooked. To me, ideas should be load-bearing—they should have psychological, philosophical, or practical weight. Otherwise, they risk becoming little more than bias, coping mechanisms, immaturity, or manipulation disguised as insight.

This will be my debut release, offering a small glimpse into both sides of my work: fiction and intellectual writing.

In the coming days, I plan to release the first trailer for Crownose Chronicles and my first hypothesis, ideally within the next 5 days to 2 weeks.