22.

“Really? That’s the best you have? You sound like a B-movie villain,” I laughed at him. I mean, dramatic much? The red flush of rage filling his face as I mocked him was rewarding. It was almost comical how cliched he was. A small man wielding the most of his own pathetic authority to feel bigger than those around him. I was glad he wasn’t going to be part of my faction.

“Fuck you!” He moved forth in a burst of speed, the rod in his hand whished as it parted the air. Faster than Miguel. Not as fast as the dash skill though. My shield rose smoothly, the clack of wood on wood ringing out across the hall. He darted back instantly, his knees bent as he looked at me with an angry scowl.

The training we had been doing was showing its worth already. Fighting against the others, trying to keep up with Miguel’s immense speed primarily, had been perfect for this. The blow hadn’t been hard enough to rattle me, his strength probably the same as Bobby’s or slightly lower. His dexterity was high though, maybe around a thirteen? He was lacking the oomph to put me on the back foot. A powerful constitution build was not something he had made his build to fight. A speedster who dealt burst damage and got out before anyone could hit him. But, what happened when he couldn’t do damage?

I strode forward, the anger in my gut boiling upward. Adrenaline hummed in my veins, a smile threatening to unveil itself. Fighting the monsters was growing dull, the threat of death was always there, but their primal instincts made them simple enough to kill. A true opponent, something like the commander at the gate, that was making me excited. A tremble in my hands as I closed in, the excitement of the moment overcoming me. What had I become?

He moved again, leaping at me and striking down. My shield was moving as soon as he did. Wood on wood, then his body slammed into mine. His momentum pushed me back several steps as he landed in a crouch. A flurry of blows stung as the rod smashed across my ribs and outer thighs. Burning pain radiated from each blow, but it was nothing more than a sting to me. No worse than a bee.

He was too close to use my spear, so I used my shield like a battering ram. Lowering it, I threw myself at him. I failed to hit him, but I pushed him closer to a wall. His burst of speed left nothing more than a black shadow blur. I was too slow to hit him, and he was too weak to hurt me. A tickle in the back of my mind reminded me Agatha could end this instantly with a wave of her hand. Her monstrous mana stat would obliterate him before he could react. Probably.

I needed this. I needed to show everyone here that I was better than Dan and his minions. That I could offer them more. That I could protect them. To do that, this lump of muscle had to die at my hand. He was also shit at banter and we can’t have that.

Whomever had described a duel as a dance between combatants had obviously never seen what two rank amateurs with borderline superhuman skills could do. It was a lurching affair, with the little bald shit flying around and wailing on me, while I used my spear and shield to slowly work him further and further into a corner. Every time he slowed I was jumping after him, stabbing and trying in vain to connect with my shield.

I was being consumed by the sharp burning pain of that rod a constant with every step. Each blow just further solidified my desire to see what his head looked like on a spit. None of the blows were enough to debilitate me; but the small smirk he wore every time he disengaged as he stood waiting for me to come toward him, further stoked the red hot rage that was slowly swallowing me. The dull sound of wood slapping flesh and my huffing breaths were all I heard. I chased him like a bull does a matador. Each step getting me closer to my goal, all for the small price of another smarting blow.

I pieced together his pattern of attacks slowly. Every time he used his superior speed, it took him a moment to adjust. To see and understand where he was before he launched a series of strikes at me. His perception and intelligence was too low for his dexterity. He was moving faster than he could perceive and process. He wouldn’t attack while moving; he would come to a standstill, if even for only a moment, before launching a flurry of blows, then retreating again. Anyone who tried to min/max was going to be in for a rough time. Stats worked together, they built on one another and I was getting a first row seat to what happened when you built on a faulty foundation.

I watched and endured. Every spear thrust forced him in the direction I wanted. Every time I tried to bash him with my shield, it forced him back. Until, finally, his back touched stone. His route of retreat gone, his ability to maneuver around me limited. My body was a screaming bruise of pain, my anger boiling to the surface as I smiled at him through gritted teeth. The look of dawning horror on his face as he realized there was nowhere to go was a balm to my battered ego.

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I was already attacking the moment his back touched the stone, giving him no time to react. Thrusting with my right arm, my spear cut off his attempt to dodge, forcing him to jerk back to avoid clothes-lining himself. I twisted at the hip, throwing myself into the movement as I lowered my left arm with the shield strapped to it. All three hundred pounds of myself collided with him. Shield first. Bones crunched. His, not mine. A strangled sob came from behind my shield as the fleshy give of his body being ground into stone reverberated through my shield.

Shield back, rim down, punching at him. Again. Again. Again. Blood. Hot blood spattering my face. Sliding down to follow him as he fell. Shield rising and falling over and over as I vented my frustration on him, lost in the red haze that blurred my vision.

I came back. Chest heaving, every breath scorching my throat, sweat dripping down my face. The intensity of the fight, the length of it, seconds, minutes, hours? I didn’t know. He had pushed me, enraged me. My entire body was throbbing from that damn little club of his. I looked down at the remnants of him. I didn’t even know his name. That thought suddenly mattered. I killed him, and I don’t even know his name.

Now he was just a pulpy remnant beneath me. Face caved in, bones shattered, blood welling in puddles of ruined flesh. Unrecognizable. The flush of kill energy was racing through me, the notification of levels gained rang out in my mind.

My legs trembled as I stood as if I was a newborn fawn. Adrenaline coursed through me, screaming to act. I looked over to those who had marched down with the dead man. All of them were pale faced and cowering, Miguel’s sword was out and pointing at them, Olivia stood behind him with her crossbow firmly aimed. Bobby stood to the side, her warhammer gripped lightly as she stared at me wide eyed. Agatha looked a bit green around the gills, her face blanched as her fingers twitched and spasmed at her side. This was the first human we had to kill. The first sapient to die by our hands. She may have the power to kill with a thought, but to have the mental determination to do it was still unknown.

“I own this faction. It is mine. This fort is mine. I am not a tyrant.” Well, that’s technically a lie, but no need to bring that up right now.

“The Commander kept you under his thumb. Kept you from gaining levels. Do you know what levels and the points that come with them can do?” I pointed at Agatha. Her points to vitality and constitution had erased decades of abuse from her. Creases, crow lines, saggy skin, warts, and wrinkles. All gone. She looked like she was only forty.

“Youth!” The majority of the people in the hall were older. Dan had taken almost everyone under the age of forty, man or woman. Those who now clustered in the hall were full of wrinkles and arthritis and gray hair. Daily aches and pains, confused and scared. I was going to use them and hope that it worked. Who truly would look at a fountain of youth and turn their backs. If you had to kill for it… well humans are human.

“Youth!” I repeated. I needed to think faster. I was terrible at giving speeches. Were they even listening to me? The looks of horror on all their faces suggested that shock might be a bigger deal than I thought.

“With points to vitality and constitution you can regain your youth. Want to feel like you’re twenty again? That bad back will be healed. Your knees that pop and crack when they bend? Your hands that ache in the cold? Level and you reverse it. Agatha has reversed it. You can too. I don’t believe in keeping people locked down to create for others. Stand on the walls, fight and earn levels. Or stay down here and keep serving others.” A spew of words that I had not planned to say.

I could die of embarrassment. The red on my face wasn’t just all some dead guy's blood. The blush was strong.

They didn’t really respond. Just sat there and stared at me.

“And if you don’t pull your weight I’ll kick you out!” Carrot and stick. I didn’t want to have to use the stick after seeing them all obviously being abused. But…I did need a response.

“Billy, why don’t you go take a shower, and we’ll talk to them,” Bobby suggested softly. She was looking at me with a mix of fear and exasperation. Standing covered in a dead guy's blood screaming about reversing aging might not have been the most sane option. My thoughts were sparrows in the wind. I didn’t even know what the fuck that meant. Maybe I needed to go take a shower and calm down.

“Ok. First though. Oaths of fealty from these ones.” I pointed at the jailers who remained. I wasn’t going to leave enemies behind who could plan while I took a nice, calm, relaxed shower. They paled as I walked toward them. They were fairly young for the most part, early twenties, with only the speedster having been older. Easier to get them to obey. Past the rebellious age of teenagers and in that awkward phase of being an adult when you really wanted to not be an adult, while learning how to do adulting.

“Fairly simple. Just say what I say and you get to live.” Being a blood drenched warrior had a way of getting people to agree with you. Noted.

“I swear fealty to the owner of this fort. I will not betray them, I will follow their orders as pursuant to the objective of the tutorial.”

“That’s it?” one of the guys whispered. He looked back and forth at the others as they repeated the lines. The binding of their oaths settled on me. It was a strange feeling, as if invisible weights were draped across my shoulders. With every oath the weight grew heavier. I hadn’t asked anyone what it felt like to swear an oath, nor had any of them volunteered.

“One of you go out and head eastward. There’s ten people out there. Tell them it’s safe to come inside. Drag that sack of shit into the furnace, then confine yourself to the armory until I come and get you.” I didn’t have to flex the oath as I had with some of the more stubborn mountain survivors. These ones were scared enough that they hopped to right away. Grabbing the dead man, they dragged him toward the stairs leading to the furnace leaving a blood trail.

“Clean up the blood, too!”