Chapter 20: Friend of Child
Another week of training passed. She had spent two weeks in this world now, and Nara made regular trips to Aviensa when she had the spare time to catch another game with her new friends, especially on the weekends. Erras’s week was 6 days, for a total of 30 days per month, with some shenanigans at the end of the year to account for needed extra days. This world was…behind in some ways, but they had enough brilliant minds (preserved for centuries by the boons of essences) that they had already wrestled out a calendar, harvest schedules, and their own versions of leap years.
The work week was 4 days, and the weekend was 2 days. She often visited Aviensa during her weekends, with the rest of the week dedicated to her training.
It only took traveling to another world to finally get that so coveted 4-day work week. Training week. Whatever.
Aviensa was a popular tourist destination in the Rona Kingdom and for out of kingdom travelers, but the season for tourists was still months away. For now, it was but a comfortable and easy going seaside town where old folks (who looked very much not old) spent the time relaxedly chatting, day drinking, and betting money on a variety of classic table games.
This time, Encio was showing her around Aviensa, instead of wandering around the beach side town on her own. As a local, he knew all of the small nooks, hole-in-the-wall eateries, hidden groves, curio shops, and trinket activities.
When she explored Aviensa with Encio, she threw up a recording crystal, narrating her adventures to her families whose names she could not remember yet but missed nonetheless. It was a strange and familiar ache in her heart—longing for something she once held dear yet could not entirely remember, mirroring her scar that traced across her heart as a reminder of what once was.
They wandered through the leafy palm and fern forest, down a dirt path packed by the footsteps of those that passed through regularly, along with the occasional animal trail cutting past the remnants of human activity.
“Over here are the tidepools,” Encio explained, gesturing down the forested trail as he played tour guide. “The local kids come to find and play with local sea creatures and in the water.”
He rubbed his fingers together, as if feeling for the temperature.
“The weather isn’t warm enough yet. I doubt we’ll see any of those brats around.”
He was immediately proved wrong when a child leapt from the dirt ledge that rose above the path, jumping onto Encio.
“Got you, big bro!”
When Encio was distracted, another two kids darted from the bushes. Each stuck their grubby hands into Encio’s and Nara’s pockets, rifling around for hidden treasures, but finding only lint and disappointment.
“Chief! Abort mission! Pockets are empty! Both of them are dirt poor!”
“We’re not poor,” Encio said, wrangling the child from his back then tossing him playfully into the air, eliciting a shriek. “We’re just magical.”
“Boo…” A girl said, kicking the dirt of the path. “No goodies?”
“Here,” Nara said. She pulled some of the snacks Laius regularly gave her from her inventory and handed a pouch to each kid. The snacks were beautifully and conveniently packaged—an attention to detail that Laius maintained with all of his culinary delights, his care and dedication to his craft showing through his quiet exterior.
“You’ll only encourage them,” Encio said.
“Eh, that’s fine. But…” She turned to the kids, putting on her best ‘older authority’ voice. “Don’t do that to strangers.”
“You’re the only stranger around!” A kid shouted back, unbowed.
“You got me there. But that means you can’t do it to me.”
The kid stared back blankly, expression wrenching as he fought to understand logic.
“Don’t let yourself get our-argued by a kid,” Encio said. “She’s right—don’t do that to strangers. You shouldn’t be doing that at all.”
The children totted behind them on the path, merrily enjoying their snacks and chatting away like baby chicks. Oftentimes they dashed off into the bushes, sticking their hand out to reveal a pitiful captured reptile that squirmed in their grasp. Nara had never caught a reptile like that before, as a kid of the suburbs instead of the countryside, and she now sought to change that missing childhood delight, snatching her own formerly sunbathing and now traumatized lizards against Encio’s eyerolls.
The path twisted down the hill, opening into a shaded stone and sand alcove. The blue waves lapped gently, trapping themselves and critters in shallow pools of sea polished stone.
The children played tour guides now, with Encio correcting them or adding information they left out.
“This is a crab!” The leader of the children, Matty, said, picking one up fearlessly to present to Nara.
“So, the evolutionary compulsion of the crab form spans even alternate dimensions,” Nara muttered at the poor captured creature, a repeat of an earlier scene. It flailed its arms fruitlessly, pincers catching empty air in a soundless rage. If she could hear the screams of crabs, she may hear the curses it laid upon 7 generations of Matty’s familial line.
It was just a normal crab, so the curses failed.
“That’s a shore crab, chief,” The girl, Jenny, said. “There’s all kinds of crab. My pa taught me.”
“I-I was getting to that Jenny! I knew that. My pa told me too!”
The lilting, lazy atmosphere was disrupted by a monster darted from the shallows, a strange flat fish creature scuttling on crab legs. Its eyes bulged from the top of its head, the inbred pug of the sea.
“I know this one! It’s a crabfish!” Matty shouted, his voice rising with the chance to reclaim his honor from embarrassment. He dashed forward and swung his trusty shovel, punting the poor monster off onto stone, where it struggled and died from the sudden impact.
Nara was curious, and she looted it with her Traveler’s Bounty ability. It immediately dissolved into rainbow colored smoke, as if iridescent oil took gaseous form.
The noxious smell drifted over conjured unpleasant memories of her rank up and sent her into a fit of coughing gasps and teary eyes. It reeked of filthy city alleyways, where piss and shit mixed with the smell of garbage of the industrial age that had never been quite scrubbed out, that roasted and fermented unpleasantly in the hot metal pan that was a dumpster into a human rights violation and growing CDC concern.
The children screamed and recoiled from the smell, falling dramatically to their knees and rolling on the sand. Someone, despite the fresh new horror (fresh in all the wrong ways) of a newly engrained scent-memory, they still seemed to be enjoying themselves.
-------
-[Crabfish] has been defeated.
* 10 lesser spirit coins
* 1 monster core (lesser)
* 5 crab quintessence (lesser)
* 5 fish quintessence (lesser)
* Crabfish carapace (lesser)
-Loot has been added to your [Astral Domain]
-----
Simultaneously, coins fell atop the heads of Matty and his crew, while Encio was surprised with a direct deposit into his inventory.
“Aiyah!“ Nara said unable to react both from the stench and from the easy defeat of the monster, “That easily?”
“You haven’t seen a lesser monster before?” Encio asked suspiciously, although his face was turned as if he secretly tried to wipe away snot and tears, looking less charming than his usual front of ‘enigmatic iron ranker and probable son of a wealthy family’.
“I haven’t fought any monster before,” she said honestly. “I’ve only just begun my training.”
Encio smiled. His smile contained that knowing sly curved that both grandfather and grandson shared. Nara knew she must have exposed something about herself, but didn’t quite know what.
“Normal rank monsters even a grandmother with her broom can handle,” Encio said.
“Even Wisteria?”
His laughter was full of disbelief, startled that she could even imply that Wisteria could struggle. “She’s not the kind of grandmother that would struggle.”
There was an incongruity with what Nara expected from monsters. Surely, iron rank monsters must be far stronger than normal rank monsters? Else, why was she training so much?
It was the first time her looting ability, Traveler’s Bounty, took effect. It was an effect she had to trigger, but she could also let it take effect automatically. She would have to remember in the future that monsters dissolved into gas weapon when looted, and instead activate it’s power at a very respectful distance.
She removed the items she looted from the crabfish, placing them on a flat-ish surface of stone for the children to see.
The lesser rank coin was a slate grey, but felt crystalline. The sound they made was a pleasant clinking noise. It was around 3.5 centimeters in diameter and 3 millimeters thick—rather hefty for a coin currency. An image of her face was emblazoned into the center of the coin, like a president’s side profile. Around the circumference of the coin read:
“The Astral Traveler,” Encio read out loud with amusement, “Greetings from Afar!”
“This isn’t how my other coins look.”
She removed one of the lesser rank spirit coins Chelsea gave her to spend. It was the same slate colored crystalline material, but she now recognized the three mountains and three rivers crest of Sanshi.
“Yours is from a looting power,” Encio said. “I’ve seen some before. They’re all like this. Personalized spirit coins engraved with their face instead of a crest.”
Matty snatched up the coin, sprinting off.
In a flash of speed, Encio was in front of him, lifting the kid by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving kitten.
“Matty… I don’t mind playing these games with you but actually stealing is crossing the line.”
“It’s just a lesser spirit coin!” he protested, “And I killed the monster! So this coin is mine!”
“And do you have a looting ability?”
“I don’t!”
“Don’t sound so proud of that. You’ve already got your own coins, look,” Encio pointed to the coins that had scattered into the sand after smacking Matty in the head. He had been distracted by the conversation of the grown-ups, and quickly forgotten the pain and its cause. He wanted to see what they were discussing, even if his coins were exactly the same.
“I can give him the coins; I really don’t mind.”
Encio wagged his finger. “If you do that, you’re only going to encourage this kid. Life isn’t fair, brat. Return that coin. Or…” Encio leaned in, “Do you want to pay for the snacks you received instead?”
“What! How could you say that! She totally didn’t realize!”
“Now those snacks were expensive. I don’t think you can afford those. Make your decision—return the coin or pay up.”
His expression softened a bit as Matty opened his palm to reveal the coin.
“Now, Matty, friends don’t steal from friends, alright?”
“Yeah…”
“Hey, don’t look so glum, here,” Nara said. She walked over to the sand, and cleaned off the sandy coins with some water from an oasis canteen. “Here’s your share.”
“Wow! Thanks, strange lady.”
Encio gave her a look, rolling his eyes.
“What? Who doesn’t want a limited edition coin? I think mine are pretty cool.”
“Some people do collect them,” Encio acknowledged, running his fingertips across one he plucked out of his own inventory, “But this one is nothing special.”
“Hey. Rude. That’s my face we’re talking about.”
“I said what I said.”
And he flashed a shit-eating grin on that beauteous face, and she knew, unarguably and undeniably, that when he sees the like of Sezan and his own visage daily, that he was right.
She gave a quick slap to his arm, and his grin widened knowing that she had drawn the inevitable conclusion.
“Oh, fuck you,” she huffed.
If this was an RPG, an achievement would have appeared: Friend of child.
*****
“You’ve made a lot of improvement. Not surprising, if I believe you were truly as fresh as you claimed,” Vallis said, resting on her practice sword while Nara was flat against the ground, peppered with dirt like a stake fallen to the floor at a barbeque. “I dismissed the convenience of skill books, but I might be changing my mind. Maybe.”
“Maybe,” Nara grunted back, just tired.
Vallis had grown up around those who had trained for years. Those of the Prep Academy competed in competitions of skill. For those who already had well-developed combat skills, a skill book ability was a waste of an ability slot. They usually upgraded into supplementary mind, memory enhancements, or all-language comprehension, which by silver rank was overkill for any non-ritualist. Silver rankers could pick up languages extremely easily thanks to their superhuman Spirit attribute, which governed mental capabilities and perception on top of mana, maximum mana, boons, and ability power.
“I’m not beating anyone in a fight.”
“You’re not beating me in a fight without abilities,” Vallis corrected, “But I’ve been training all of my life.”
“You’re from one of them adventurer families?”
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
For essence users, it was common to establish adventuring families. Once the first essence user became an established adventurer, they could afford essences for the rest of the family. Then, the adventurer head sent their younger family members to adventure schools like Sanshi Adventurer Academy to hone and learn important skills. Older family members that did not want the adventuring life and responsibilities were ranked up with monster cores, and took care of managing the family instead. Bronze rank was enough to afford the essence for a few family members, after some months of saving.
“I am,” she confirmed, her voice colored with the characteristic pride of one who held her family’s renown in high regard. “Even with a skill book, you can’t expect to catch up to me in a mere two weeks. There’s no reason to lament your skill or progress. If you see some disrespectful bastard on the street, you can probably put him in the ground.”
Judging from Vallis’ response, she must have been from an adventuring family that personally educated their members, on top of sending them to academies.
“Probably? That’s some confidence you have in me.”
“There’s no such thing as a guaranteed victory.”
“How about you then?”
“I’d win.”
Nara let out an exasperated sigh, “Amara said it’d be good practice to fight ‘one of my peers’ but everyone here is better than me. I need a worse sparring partner. Someone who’s actually my level.”
Nara wondered if Encio was a ‘worse sparring partner’ but quickly dismissed that blatantly incorrect thought. It may have been through an essence ability, but just the one time she saw him move it was with speed and technique. She couldn’t sense Sezan’s aura, so he must be an essence user of a higher rank than her. Since he’s Encio’s grandfather, then Encio was the second generation of an adventuring family. One or two generations of adventurers was relatively common. It was the full, millennia long dynasties that were rare.
Even ‘the average’ adventuring family that taught their kids combat from the age they could hold a training weapon was more than enough to win against Nara.
“Or, have you considered, that you just need to get up to my level?” Vallis said, arching a challenging eyebrow, “At this rate I need to find someone who actually prove a challenge.”
“Screw you,” Nara said. She slowly stood from her sprawled position on the ground and lifted her wooden sword, leveling it at Vallis with challenge that didn’t represent her skill level, like a Chihuahua barking at a Pitbull. “We go again.”
“That’s more like it. I was starting to wonder if I had tired out you,” she taunted. “Then I really would need to find someone else to fight.”
*****
Nara still had some time until she needed to return to the compound for dinner. She couldn’t keep referring to the jungle compound as ‘the compound’ so she had asked Amara and the others the name of the location. They had called it ‘Innovation’s Retreat’ in spirit of all of their enterprising natures—Laius in cooking, Chelsea in vehicular crafting, Amara in ritual and artifice, and Redell in song and soul—which sounded more romantic than it actually was.
“A retreat from what?” Nara had asked.
“Politics,” Amara said, her eyes narrowing with the flicker of unpleasant memories. “There is no greater evil to avoid.”
“For all Amara’s bravado and confidence,” Chelsea said, a scoff to accompany Amara’s distaste, “she cannot stand those scheming, two-faced politicians that drag at the heels of progress.”
“Don’t single me out. You can’t stand it either,” Amara countered.
“Are the other two the same?”
Amara was thoughtful for a moment, before she voiced an explanation.
“Redell has a rather complicated relationship with authority. He’s from a royal family; Redell Rowen, of the Rowen Kingdom. You have heard of it.”
Nara nodded. She had been portaled there by Laius at some point. It was a city starkly unlike Sanshi—the architecture was fantasy-Victorian, with art-deco and baroque influences. It was the most technologically advanced city (Magitech or artifice-tech was more appropriate) had seen on Erras yet, particularly notable were its taller buildings, although not reaching the splendor (or concrete and glass drab) of Earth’s skyscrapers.
“That kingdom,” Amara said, her intonation reflecting complex opinions related to her friend’s distaste of the kingdom, but also her own positive dealings with it (she did like its forward technological progress, as an inventor herself, and she garnered respect and fame within the kingdom), “holds the arts in very low esteem. They consider it the pursuit of commoners. When he found his passion in music, he was expelled, and he never looked back. They don’t even know he’s alive.” The last statement almost seemed a quiet, involuntary confession, one that had slipped out, but Amara held a knowing finger to her lips, “He goes by Redell Gainer here. Don’t tell anyone else.”
Nara hurriedly nodded. She questioned if she should have been told this, but it was too late now. That secret would stick in her mind like hot tar. She didn’t consider herself the best at keeping secrets, and she had already slipped up multiple times with Sezan, Encio, and Wisteria. At this point, she suspected they were humoring her, leaving what was unsaid, unsaid.
“Laius well... Laius is a friend. The retreat has all the equipment and space he could want for his hobbies, so he stays with us and is welcome to do so.”
“Plus the perk of amazing food,” Nara offered.
“That too,” Amara confirmed. “Especially that.”
“I appreciate the quiet,” Laius said. He had, as usual, flickered with speed so incredible it must have been teleportation. Even Amara jumped a little—it seemed he could sneak past anyone, if he could sneak past Amara.
“I’m not bothering your quiet, am I?”
“You eat all my food,” Laius said, then he frowned at Amara and Chelsea, “These two aren’t so adventurous.”
Notably, he didn’t deny that she was noisy.
“Just uh, don’t kill me with anything too adventurous,” Nara joked.
“Redell can revive you.”
“What? No, please don’t kill me with food. I don’t my tombstone to read I died from food poisoning and explosive diarrhea.”
“Essence users can’t get diarrhea,” Amara said. “We don’t produce waste.”
Laius’ smile contained revelations best left hidden.
“Nope. Don’t like that.”
*****
She ventured the outskirts of Sanshi. The city had marvelous parks, which suited Nara’s appreciation, perhaps budding obsession, with nature. The parks varied in style, from perfectly manicured Zen gardens to shaded parks of dense leaves and green, as eclectic as Sanshi’s melting pot population. It had become a personal mission of hers to visit every park.
She would often practice her lute in these parks, and she was pleased to occasionally see other musicians doing the same, sometimes busking, sometimes simply practicing. They may have been students or professional musicians honing their skills to take home an essence in a competition.
Her practice was interrupted by loud voices, which was unusual for this particular park—it was a quiet, forested one, without large, tiled clearings that made them attractive to daylight activities, although more attractive to the more clandestine sort. She stored her lute, then hid behind a tree to observe the commotion.
In a small clearing, a group of three was surrounded by a larger group of five. The group of three had one young man and two young women. One of the women was cowering, clearly nervous, although not particularly afraid.
Strangely, on the top of the young man’s head was a small dark red wolf-bird creature, griping his hair lazily like a cat, fast asleep despite the commotion. It broke the resolute impression he gave off, like a large German Shepard with a kitten sleeping on its paws, unable to move. Except, as would shortly be demonstrated, moving was very much an option, and the German Shepard was quiet adept at it, as was the kitten at riding his trusty steed.
“Raja, stay your hand,” the young man with the creature said, his tone placating, but with a commanding edge. “The duty of adventurers is to cultivate our strength and protect the people. What good does it serve any of us to interfere with my affairs like this?”
“Your affairs?” His opponent scoffed, patronizing in tone and posture. “I’m offering that common girl a counteroffer. Option one, she denies your shoddy team up with no benefits, and gets a generous pouch of spirit coins in turn. I know how much someone like her—” He jangled a pouch, “—needs something like this. Option two, we hunt her down every moment of her life in Sanshi, and send her to the Church of the Healer, free of charge,” His bellicose gaze caused the young woman to filch. “Well? Make your choice.”
“Penna, you don’t need to answer,” The young man said, holding his arm out protectively in front of her.
“What? You’ll use the power of your family to defend her? I know how your family works; you don’t have any special protections. You have to ‘progress with your own power’, blah blah blah,” he mocked. “What’s the point of your family if they do nothing for you?”
The young man in question, Sen, furrowed his eyebrows at such a derogatory statement towards familial bonds. Was he unaware of the insult he inadvertently lobbed at his own family?
“Sorry Sen,” Penna said, apologetic but afraid. “I have family I’m concerned about, and I need to help out at the shop. I don’t want to bring them any trouble. I just want to focus on my training.”
“Penna, I can help. He should not use his family power to dictate your actions. I won’t let it happen.”
“You can’t Sen, not really. Not unless you can hire someone to protect me, or make your family move for you. I know you won’t do that Sen.”
She looked into his eyes.
“I’m already not worth it to you. I’m not up to your standards, am I?”
He frowned, but said nothing. Either her own assumptions were insulting enough for him not to argue, or she was right. Or, she had fulfilled her own inadvertent prophecy right then and there.
She held out her hand, her expression bitter, “Young master Jagar, the coins…please.”
His laugh was maliciously gleeful, “As expected. This commoner knows what’s good for her.” He threw the pouch of coins down to the ground with a weighty thud. “Pick up the coins and don’t come back. I don’t want to see you around the Arlang. As you said…you’re not up to his standards.”
She bowed her head, scooping up the pouch as a kick was sent towards her head. She managed to duck. The heavy leather shoe skimmed against her temple in a raw scuff.
“Raja, she did what you wanted!” Sen’s flared with anger as his gaze swept past the skin on Penna’s face, bruising and red, but not quite bleeding.
“Ha!” Raja said, pulling his foot back slowly. “It was a joke Sen. She’s not badly hurt. She’s an aspiring adventurer. She’s tougher than that. Aren’t you?”
Penna flinched at the attention, but nodded. She was tougher than that, and she had gotten injured worse in sparring. She wasn’t afraid of injury—she was afraid of bringing the harassment to her family.
“What’s a little broken skin? Since when were you so soft?”
The woman with the wolf-hat young man sighed, shaking her softly in mild disapproval and inadvertently interrupting Raja’s tirade. She didn’t say a word, but it was enough trigger Raja’s sense of inferiority, plummeting him from his delusion of superiority back to his hole of mediocrity. He had always been a disappointment, the worst of his generation of peers. No one had any expectations for him except the expectation that he would fail. It was always the names of others that flew across their lips: Maya Arlang, the northern star, skilled in command, logistics, and battle. Vallis Nisei, the white sun of the black snakes; confident and competitive. Malachi Fenhu, Besar Dasan, Naosa Lang, Qingxi Lugu, and of course, Sen Arlang, the battlefield strategist.
Raja swung his fist towards Sen, but it did not connect, interrupted by a black shovel that whacked him upside his head. He struggled to hang onto consciousness, his next works caught in his mouth in a confused choke.
“Let’s no escalate things, yeah?” Nara said, a black shovel held aloft.
“Oh my. Is this not escalation?” Sen’s companion said, eyes wide as Raja tipped forward and crumpled onto the ground.
Turns out, it was very easy to sneak up on someone, even at iron rank. Iron rankers weren’t any different than ordinary humans, except they had up to twenty magical abilities and a supernatural ability to recover from any injury if they didn’t die from it first.
Raja’s aura control was shoddy, especially compared to hers. According to Laius, Nara’s aura had always been difficult to detect or manipulate to others, and she easily snuck up to him. At this rank, most weren’t adept enough to use it for detection either, securing Nara’s sneak attack two-fold.
She shaped Nirvana into a shovel. In this form, it had no attribute bonuses. But a shovel was a shovel. She found the tool very appealing—it’s diverse and flexible usage, the balance of weight in her hands, and the implications of shoveling trash—appropriate for the target in question. Matty had the right idea with his trusty monster-punting tool.
In Erras, fist fights between essence users went unpunished, if everyone involved was the same rank and no abilities were used. Abilities immediately amped the lethality of any conflict. Keeping it without abilities was just a scuffle that bruised bodies and egos and something everyone could heal from.
Using Nirvana may be skirting the line, but it was just a shovel. Nobody else had to know it wasn’t just a shovel.
She wasn’t going to interfere in their conflict, at first. She was naturally curious, a trait that had only been amplified in a brand-new, sparkling with wonder yet lurking with danger, magical world. That didn’t mean she was quick to throw hands. She had never been in a fight before outside of the few years of sparring classes in martial arts that she had taken on Earth, and now on Erras with Vallis. But she couldn’t really stand to see someone literally kicking someone while they were down. If Raja was comfortable taking a cheap shot, then she’d show him who was more frugal, the pauper or the prince.
So, utilizing the knowledge from The Way of the Traveler, she adjusted the strength of her swing, and whacked that arrogant young master upside the head, downing him in one shot.
Surely, magic can heal brain damage?
No, wasn’t that type of brain damage already permanent?
Either way, it wasn’t her fault. He’d have to take it up with his parents. Either upbringing or genetics—they had done something wrong.
It was now four on four, except Penna immediately got to her feet, coin pouch in hand, and dashed away from the fight.
“She up and left?” Nara said disbelievingly, “She couldn’t stay to help?”
“That’s fine,” the young man with the wolf-bird creature said, “She doesn’t want to incite Raja’s wrath later. I am Sen Arlang. You are?”
“Nara…” she hesitated, before using the last name Amara said she could use. “Nara Edea.”
“Dear Sen, there is no rush, but I would appreciate your intervention in a timely manner,” his companion called out to him while doing her best to dodge one of Raja’s extras. The two were already engaged in their own brawl, although the woman was far more passive, and sticking to dancing out of reach like an amateur ballerina.
It was three on four, with Nara’s side at the personnel disadvantage. Since everyone was brawling with fists, she discreetly transformed Nirvana back into its accessory form, a black earring at her ear.
Nara was matched with one of Raja’s henchmen. He was unlike the other locals—he had dark skin, almost obsidian black, with glowing intricate golden runic tattoos. His eyes matched, glowing with a gold like an internalized sun. He looked like Amara, except Amara was an over 6-foot-tall Amazonian goddess, and this man was a mortal poorly mimicking the divine. He was below average for a man, around Nara’s height, which made the battle more convenient for her. He was a runic, one of the many races native to Erras, known for their dark skin, typically shorter stature, bald head, and glowing tattoos.
Raja himself was still knocked out cold, sprawled on the ground in a shameful position that arrogant young masters stereotypically ended up in—ass raised, face plant, and arms askew. It was true to form: 10 out of 10 points awarded, uncontested first place.
The two engaged, her opponent flinging fist after fist at her. They were far better punches than she would have ever achieved on Earth, but she at least had the performance-enhancing-drugs of a skill book, and two weeks of nightmare inducing parkour training, if basic.
Her opponent was a decent fighter, dodging past her own weak and non-committal punches. Nara wanted to end it with a blow to the jaw to knock him out, but he kept his guard up. Her best chance was a surprise blow, and she had already lost the element of surprise on Raja. She wasn’t any faster than her runic opponent, and her blows were weaker.
She had no choice; She would have to trust the skill book. The Way of the Charlatan: Non-Lethal Finisher—Breaking Two Eggs with One Swing. That wasn’t the real name of the move in the skill book, but The Way of the Traveler especially The Way of the Charlatan did not shy from dirty tactics.
“Dude, I’m really sorry for this,” Nara began, “but you’ve left me with no other choice. I’m not good enough at fighting to choose another way. You’re probably just some unfortunate lackey, with no choice but to follow along with your incompetent boss. Your lot has been thrown in the pot, whether you like it or not.”
“What are you talking about?” Her opponent growled between swings. “What pot?”
Since she had persistently gone for head and torso blows the entire battle, the man’s nether regions were conveniently unguarded. She feinted another blow to his solar plexus, then swung up her leg, crunching the eggs in the chicken coop with as much power as she could muster.
“They can heal those too…right?” She muttered as the man froze, his hands reflexively shooting to his gonads as if they were cradling delicate porcelain as he let out a mournful groan of pain. His head was now unguarded, so she put him out of his misery, smashing her fist into his jaw and rocking his brain like she originally wanted.
It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. Brain damage isn’t permanent.
He crumpled, hands still cupping his nether, his face warped in pain, then the emptiness and relief of unconsciousness.
While she had been handling one opponent, Sen had been fighting two.
Sen Arlang was a tall young man, and incredibly handsome, like some fitness model turned martial arts action movie star—one who did his own stunts. He had black hair and fair skin like the rest of the locals, but his eyes deviated from the norm; they were a piercing, almost glimmering lightning storm grey. This only added to his stand-out appearance, the envy of many other rich young masters that won consolation prizes at the genetic lottery while Sen took home the grand prize. The only bigger winner she had seen thus far was Encio, who evidently got it from his Greek god of a grandfather.
Make no mistake, Raja had been a handsome young lad himself, but compared to Sen Arlang, he was an imitation to a masterpiece; a local attraction to a world wonder. That inadmissible fact irritated Raja at every meeting.
He seemed younger than Nara, in his late teens, but his tall and strong frame, confidence, and martial skill kept her guessing. For youth, essences aged them up a bit into the prime of their physical condition. For the older, essences aged them down.
He fought like a mixed martial artist, strong and powerful blows coming from every possible angle. His opponents were no match for him, suffering fast punches that staggered them, then brutal leg sweeps that toppled them. He did the same as Nara, securing the knockout with a solid blow to the solar plexus, giving his opponents no chance to haul themselves to their feet for round 2.
He style was a mixture of John Wick and Bruce Lee, powerful, quick, masterful, adaptive, and decisive. As he annihilated his opponents, the creature on top of his head gleefully swung around. Holding on for dear life seemed fun to it. It let out a mix of dog-like barks and bird-like chirps, a one-creature peanut gallery on the top of his head.
“Goddamn it, this guy won’t be a good sparring partner either.”
The other woman, who had not introduced herself yet, struggled with her opponent, even more than Nara. She kept her cool, but close combat was clearly not her forte, nor her interest. She dashed around, blocking with her forearms as best she could, buying time with avoidance and patience. In a fight, if you kept running you were pretty hard to hit. She seemed an ardent subscriber to that school of thought, only engaging as necessary to prolong the fight.
Finished with his opponents, Sen smoothly advanced, the combined force of his large frame and momentum focused with a fist to the chest. Her opponent was launched majestically into the bushes, where Sen quickly followed up by grappling and pummeling him.
He got up, nonplussed, dusting dirt from his pants with fists splattered with blood, both from his own cuts and from the face he just rearranged ‘free of charge’, as Raja had once claimed himself. With just a knock to the back of the head, Raja had gotten away the easiest.
“Thank you for the assistance, miss Edea,” Sen said, performing a very formal greeting to her in thanks.
“Just call me Nara.”
“Then, please call me Sen. This is my friend Aliyah Sahar.”
She smiled gently in greeting.
Aliyah Sahar was a runic, a race that was relatively common in Sanshi. They were known for their glowing runic tattoos on their skin—something they were born with—and their matching glowing eyes. They typically had bald heads and dark skin, but Aliyah did not. Her family line had many interracial marriages, and with it came a boon of hair, although it obscured the beautiful runes on her scalp, which Nara could faintly see glowing through the roots of her luscious, dark locks.
She had warm brown skin that was complimented with gold runic tattoos, like the opponent Nara had just brutalized. Their type of runic must have been native to this area. Her runes were more of a soft, honey-gold, rather than the powerful sun-gold of Amara’s eyes, who wasn’t a runic, but Nara found herself comparing the two nonetheless. Aliyah’s eyes matched the color of her runes, irises of sunlit honey. She was notably older than Sen, who looked in his late teens or early twenties. She was late twenties to early thirties, but it was hard for Nara to tell with essences in play.
“I’ve gone and wacked a man against my better judgement, not literally, you know what I mean. Or maybe I do mean literally? Anyway…since I’m standing here among the heaps of evidence—” She gestured to the five unconscious bodies around them, “Could you tell me what’s going on?”