I spent the majority of the next two days in the training room. I focused on using [Silent Blade] and [Summon Flame], and it became second nature to inject mana into my blade when I swung it, whether it was a knife or axe.
[Silent Blade] took up less mana than [Summon Flame] did, surprisingly. Perhaps the cost of using fire went up as the skill level increased, the improved heat and range costing more than the weaker flame once did. The price was worth it, however.
As I improved the control of [Summon Flame], I found it could now grow to a size that engulfed my wrists, almost reaching halfway up my forearms. After that, it was just a matter of refining it. I hadn't tested how well it could burn different objects, as I didn't have access to anything I could destroy. I sensed it would be even more devastating now than when I fought against Eric, and even then, it could melt skin with ease.
Mana shortage was really the biggest problem I faced. I could only activate [Silent Blade] so many times; if I did use it, there was a rare chance I could use [Spectral Hand] after the fact. It just took up too much mana.
[Silent Blade] would be practical even in preplanned combat, betraying my opponent's senses and making my strikes even faster. But it shone in sneak attacks, giving me an even greater upper hand. [Spectral Hand] was more practical in situations like pit fights since my opponents couldn't see it, and it could give me many openings.
During the next day, I used [Spectral Hand] between practicing my axe proficiency. I would move objects the best I could until my mana was nearly empty. I skirted around complete emptiness to avoid the crippling fatigue I would endure as a result.
There must be ways to increase the amount of mana you have in this world, and I suspected it had something to do with the wisdom stat. It was the only one I hadn't increased myself—its sole growth had come from my class gain. Wisdom didn't seem like something you could so easily improve.
Despite that handicap, I felt improvement in my skills. For example, [Silent Blade] could be used more frequently, my flames were more powerful, and the manifestation of [Spectral Hand] gradually lasted a tiny bit longer with each use.
If these were the results of just three days of dedicated practice, I could maybe see myself fighting a king and not dying instantly. Nevertheless, at the moment, I had no plans to accept. There were too many factors to work out.
The next day I visited Theresa, as I had one gold piece left at my disposal. I had many questions, and the first I asked was about wisdom.
"Wisdom is something that is gained over many years," she told me. "Just one experience won't increase your wisdom. As you apply what you learned, and change from mistakes, you'll find that your wisdom has randomly increased." She sighed. "Of course, there are those who have managed to manufacture artifacts that increase different stats, wisdom being the most popular. But those are guarded even closer than the King."
"How does intelligence increase?" I asked, hoping to satiate my curiosity.
"It increases as you acquire and use new knowledge," Theresa said. That made sense, given my intelligence had increased as she taught me how to form a core. But it was still confusing because I could think of many events in this world where I learned how to do something, but my intelligence hadn't increased.
But in everything I had done so far, I had basically taught myself or applied practical skills I already knew. Magic and mana were entirely new concepts, and Theresa's words became more rational as I thought about them. I couldn't explain how I had summoned flames for the first time, as I'd had no knowledge of how such a thing could be possible. It had only happened because of some warped instinct.
I still couldn't completely rationalize some of it, thinking that perhaps my intelligence should've increased in some cases, but I wouldn't try to understand the force that granted stat gains.
That led me to my next question. "How do you improve a skill?"
She thought for a moment before responding. "Skills evolve as you use them. There is no sudden jump, and creativity is needed on your part. If you see no way a skill could improve, it never will, because you don't put the work in. There are breaking points where skills can increase their level, but those catalysts are rare."
That seemed to be the case for [Summon Flame]. Before each level increase, I had only used the skill for little things; then there was the explosion of it that I had used against Davion, then the smaller flame that had managed to burn through flesh. There was no conscious effort on my part to improve it, but I could probably thank my title and the pyromaniac for that.
He always pushed my flames forward, willing me to make them burn brighter. So it was no surprise that through his urging, [Summon Flame] would improve.
Theresa interrupted my ruminating, huffing. "Are you just going to ask questions, or is there something you need my help with?"
If I was going to consider Olmor and Frederick's offer, more knowledge was needed on my part. I still had many questions for Theresa, unfortunately for her, and I also needed to prioritize the growth of my flames. That power seemed to be the main reason the two had approached me.
"More questions for now, I'm afraid," I responded, and she sighed. She didn't stop me, though, so I continued. "You probably know I'm working for Lifdol because Grathskin grew my arm back. Realistically, how long would paying that debt off take?"
"Currently, there are only two reputable healers in the Kingdom, Grathskin being the more skilled. Much to the displeasure of the royals, but there are laws against forced labor. Why he works for Lifdol is another story. Anyways, with such high demand but low supply, their rates are much too high for the average person.
"If they provided services for everyone in the kingdom, they'd never stop working. Healers use their own energy and mana to help others, and unfortunately, Lifdol controls one of them. Those two factors make the prices too expensive—healers are also incredibly hard to train. I'd suspect it would take maybe three years of pit fights to pay off your debt," she explained.
My brow furrowed. "How is that time calculated?"
She hummed, thinking. "A particularly wealthy merchant once paid a thousand gold to regrow a leg he'd lost to a wild beast. If you fight every week in a year, earning ten gold by Lifdol's rates each time, it will take around two years, actually. Of course, if you added your win bonuses, that time would decrease."
I nodded. Fighting in the pit for that long did not appeal to me at all. It was too risky, as every time I fought for my life—I'd almost died against Scorne. To last that long was not something I could see easily happening. On the other hand, if my title did come into play, helping me improve at a rate the others couldn't keep up with, I could maybe see myself surviving for two years.
But I knew I didn't want that. Still, one mystery was solved, and I moved on. To fight against ice, flames would be a priority. If I was to consider this assassination, I had to know if an advantage was available to me.
"I'm a fire user, and I'm unsure how to improve my skill. So I'd like direction for that," I told her.
"What's the name of the skill and the level?" she asked.
"[Summon Flame], level three."
Theresa gasped. "You were using a level three skill with no core? Gods, you could've died. It's no surprise your insides looked charred when I examined you. Grathskin really is handy, because you're as good as new now."
I spread my hands out. "I had no idea I needed a core. After the skill increased to level three, there was a lot more discomfort using it than before."
"I'll bet," she muttered. "Alright, let me see it. Don't make it too large, though."
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I nodded, then let mana flow from my core to my palms. I watched the flames erupt, urging me to go higher.
"Quite fascinating to see," Theresa murmured. "They only appear from your hands?"
"I've tried moving it away from my body, but it has never gotten far."
"Then that's what I suggest—get the flames to appear even farther away from your hands. Its description doesn't have any limitations, does it?"
"It just says, 'use mana to summon fire,'" I responded.
"Good, good. That means you could summon it from your chest, or even in the air in front of you without moving it through your hands—in theory. Such development will take tons of work, but a breakthrough will surely mean an increase. I don't think potency needs to be worked on; I can feel the heat from here," Theresa told me, and I let the flames die.
"How do I go about that?" I asked her.
She scoffed. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. If you feel the mana move to your hands when you activate the skill, I have no doubt you can manipulate it elsewhere. I would help, but such a process takes weeks of practice. It would be better for you to start it on your own."
I trusted her knowledge, so I didn't push for her help.
"What about passive skills? How do those improve?"
"Pure experience is the most common form of level increase," Theresa responded. "As passive skills are applied and used over and over, there is no other choice but to level up. It takes a lot of time, however. As everything does," she added.
I hadn't actively applied [Enhanced Sense] lately, not like I had at the camp in the Federation. The amplified noise and smell and the burning pain from injuries had just become second nature, and I hadn't felt the need to push the skill any further. Some part of me was afraid of what would happen if I did. There was only so much stimulation I could take before I broke.
The experience of gaining the skill was imprinted into my mind, and I wanted to avoid something possibly worse than that.
I debated whether to ask my last question, as it could possibly implement me in dangerous ways. However, I thought I should take my chances. "Do fire skills have an advantage over ice?"
"It really depends on the intensity of the fire. Fire can win if it's strong enough to turn ice into gas or has enough force to shatter it on impact. But if the ice is too sturdy, it will outlast flames anytime. So if it's in a fight, every second matters, and every second the ice holds out the greater chances of your loss," she rationalized.
I kind of expected it, as neither seemed to have any inherent advantage at first glance. If I was to fight against ice, I believed that my other skills would also be critical if my flames didn't reach level five, which was an extremely low possibility.
With no more pressing questions I could remember, I thanked Theresa, paid her, and left.
I spent the next two days focused on my flames and axe. It was nearly impossible to divert the mana from its predetermined path to my hands. Even trying to direct it starting from my mana core didn't quite work, the power inside me seeming to have a mind of its own.
I could still move it away from my hands like I had in the forest near the Federation, but the fire became extremely weak when it wasn't connected to me.
By the sixth day, I had gained some control over my mana, finding the ability to move it through the pathways. But I couldn't do it once I activated a skill, as the mana would then flow on its own. I gained one more point in intelligence, however.
My mastery over [Summon Flame] was the only real improvement—deciding the amount summoned and the heat of the flames was like breathing. It was no longer an uncontrollable burst of fire and was now something I could direct.
That day bled into the next, and I again found myself in the pit. I jolted in the tiny waiting room as Lifdol announced I would fight solo this time, but still armed. Grabbing my borrowed axe, my hand tightened over the wood and leather.
I could only assume I would fight a creature—or creatures—since I was meant to go in alone. Whether they would be crovians like last time, I didn't know. I doubted it, given Lifdol's inclination for novelty.
It wasn't long until I was up next, with crowds roaring over my head, closing in like a ceiling falling down to crush me. Blindfold on, axe in hand.
A gate rose across from me, the metal clunking and screeching.
An angry growl met the cheering in the stands, rumbling like thunder. Claws to heel, claws to heel—whatever I was facing advanced, sands shifting, even more grating than Lifdol's booming voice.
"BLIND CAIN VERSUS THE TARHORN! LIKE ITS NAME, IT SPORTS HORNS AS SHARP AS A SWORD, AND EYES BLACK AS TAR. WHO WILL COME OUT AS THE WINNER!?"
The spectators screamed in response, and the tarhorn hissed at the noise. My axe dragged along the ground, the creature stilling. A heavy step in my direction, then three more followed it. I pulled my axe back, waiting for the charge.
I was the known enemy, so it ran for me. The ground seemed to shake, a snarl sounding a couple feet above me. I dodged the trampling claws, falling into a roll, and sand flew into my mouth.
The tarhorn turned with sudden quickness and came at me again. Swinging my axe at one leg, I felt it just barely brush, hearing its teeth snap above my head. Only an overly flexible neck could achieve such a feat.
Our exchanges felt akin to a bull and bullfighter, except I was the red cape.
Infusing mana into my axe, I activated [Silent Blade] as the tarhorn charged again. It was quicker than the creature expected, lodging low in its leg before it could dodge. It howled, different from any animal I had ever heard.
It started to circle me, more cautious, steadily growling deep in its chest. I didn't entertain the idea of running at it myself, as there was no way I could keep up with a beast of that size. Its gait was now unsteady, but I knew it could still be faster than I could compete with.
Creeping closer, it lunged, back feet kicking hard off the ground. I crouched as low as possible, hoping the tarhorn wouldn't take my head off with the sharp claws I had heard scrape over the earth.
The wind wailed as it sailed overhead, and I let my axe swing up, aiming for anything within reach. I nicked something, probably a back foot, the tarhorn hissing in response.
We turned to face each other again, my breathing loud in my ears. The creature's paw lunged at me, swiping like a panther. I wouldn't be able to dodge its arching reach, so I threw my axe up, claws clanging against my weapon and throwing me backward.
Such strength, truly proportionate to a creature of this size. I was partially relieved I couldn't see the tarhorn—couldn't see the deadly claws, couldn't visually process its advantage in mass and power. Such massive animals were just fantasies back on Earth, but this was now my reality.
It swung for me again as I regained my footing, and I had no choice but to block. My feet slid backward as I braced myself, and I swore I could hear the wood of the axe groaning from the force.
As it swiped again, I sensed enough room to dodge to the right, my feet flying over the sand. Those claws came for me again, and my axe swung to meet the attack, sliding into the skin just behind a claw. It went deeper than when I had cut the tarhorn's leg, seeming to sever something important.
It turned away, wailing, and I heard its tongue start to lick over the wound, blood dripping to the sand in a steady stream. I came at the beast, but it was still fast as it stumbled away, hissing.
My forward momentum crippled me as it suddenly lunged, injured paw stretching out. I fell back, and two lines of pain cut across my chest. It took that as a signal to move in, swatting at me again.
I hit the tarhorn's claws on their sides, throwing the paw to the right. Following it with an upward strike, [Silent Blade] had my axe buried in the injured paw's wrist, this time really doing damage. With a crack, it fell limp, the backs of those razor-sharp claws brushing my arm.
With a mournful sound, the tarhorn began to limp away. I ran at it, axe in one hand, and jumped on the animal's back. Axe digging into flesh, my other hand surprisingly grabbed onto feathers.
It jumped, snarling as it tried to shake me off, yelping as I dug the axe into its skin even further. Crawling up its back, my body jolted up and down, my torso painfully hitting against the solid muscles of the tarhorn. Gritting my teeth, I tried to hurry.
I reached a long neck, feathers even thicker here, then found a horn Lifdol had mentioned. My arms burned from the strain, and I swore my teeth would crack from how hard I was gritting them.
The tarhorn began to shake its next side to side, and I flattened my body down, arms not even able to wrap fully around its neck. The animal arched its throat down, then flung it back. My grip slipped, and I flew backward through the air.
I reached my arms out, grabbing onto the feathers on the tarhorn's back, ripping some out as I kept sliding down. Then, scrambling up while it was less frantic, I pulled out my knife with one hand and stabbed down violently.
Knife buried to the hilt, I held on with everything I had as the tarhorn screeched at me. Then, shaking its body, it seemed to decide on something.
My world quickly tilted, the surface beneath me sliding off its axis.
I yelled as my right leg was trapped underneath the tarhorn's body, quickly going numb as blood stopped circulating and my bones creaked from the weight. The creature had thrown itself onto its side, trapping me beneath it.
Head thrown back in pain, I abandoned my plan to get to the tarhorn's head. Pulling my knife out, I put it in the sheath on the hip that wasn't trapped. Burying my hands into the beast's feathers, I let my flames ignite.
Mana rushed through me, and the fire began to grow. It spread, no help needed from me, burning through the lush pelt of feathers on the tarhorn's body. Increasing the heat had the animal jumping up in alarm, but it was too late.
Dragging myself backward, I watched as my fire spread in the darkness, the smell of smoke and burning meat drifting through the air. The tarhorn lasted long, running as fast as it could with a mangled leg. But it couldn't stop the spread of flames.
The burning mass of fire ran through every corner of the arena, wailing, gradually slowing, until the tarhorn dropped into a lump of smoldering flesh.
I stood, able to limp on my injured leg, and retrieved my axe. Blood soaked my chest, wet and warm.
The silent crowd was deafening.