A mocking grin took space on the gnome’s face.
“Sir gnome,” Rose greeted, her eyes wary, “is there a reason you’d sneak up on injured Hunters?”
The gnome waved his hand dismissively and replied, “No, no, carry on. I was merely curious.”
“Gnomes aren’t native to these lands,” Opalstein said, suspicious.
“Don’t mind me I’m just a fellow alchemist admiring a peer’s work,” the gnome smiled, a mocking complexion still clung to his face.
“I see. You are one of the Sap Gnomes from the White Crest Mountain range, gnomes known for their odd fields of alchemy study.”
The gnome didn’t reply and remained grinning.
“…Perhaps you find something funny, sir gnome?” Opalstein asked, unsure.
“I just thought you calling that concoction in your hand a health potion rather humorous,” the gnome giggled.
“It is a health potion.”
The gnome broke into a giggle fit before he managed to plant two tiny hands onto his mouth to close it.
“I apologize,” the gnome said in a muffled tone behind his hands.
Opalstein threw him a wary stare before turning back to Rose and handed her the health potion. “This should help heal you.”
A wet sound of spittle spraying came from the gnome as he tried to keep from laughing.
“Gnome,” Opalstein grunted, waning on patience, “Say what you have to say. Seeing that you are one of the Sap Gnomes, you would have some knowledge on alchemy. Given that you laugh when I mention my potion, I can only surmise that you have something to say on it.”
The gnome had to wipe his hands free of spit and clear his eyes of laughing tears before he could speak. “It’s just that you used serenity leaves and varbrand dust in the same mixture, that I thought you must be playing a prank on this human female.”
Rose, not knowing anything about alchemy, gave the glass vial in her hands a wary look.
Opalstein reddened and responded to the gnome, “Look here, gnome. I received accreditation at Soalde’s Sage Alchemy Hall, a place founded by Harbine the Transmuter. With what I have available, I created a potion of reasonable quality given the circumstances.”
“It’s always about accreditation with humans,” the gnome muttered under his breath, then said, “If that is how you feel, human, by all means, continue.”
Opalstein made a face at the gnome before turning to Rose and said, “Don’t mind that nosy tree dwarf, my lady.”
“You know I don’t like that kind of language,” Rose snapped, her focus sharpening on the square-jawed man. "Tree dwarf" was how humans belittled gnomes, reducing their identities to being imitations of the more commonly known dwarfs.
Opalstein had forgotten that Rose had a fascination with the more magical races and even saw them as a better race compared to humans.
“I truly don’t hold anything against the other races,” Opalstein quickly said. “I apologize for my ill choice of words, my lady.” Rose was a Verdinant, the only child to the head of the wealthiest family in Loderan, a family perhaps wealthier than anyone on the entire continent. He would rather not upset her if he could help it.
Rose rolled her eyes, looked to the gnome, and asked, “Could you make me something? I have never experienced the alchemical work of a Sap Gnome before.”
“But what about my potion…?” Opalstein muttered dejectedly.
As his red cap bobbed up and down, the gnome bowed and replied, “Certainly, human. Gnomes not only seek to uncover nature's secrets but also to enlighten others about them.”
With that, the gnome overturned the bundle on his back, and it suddenly sprang to life. The various pieces and packs untangled themselves and arranged into a makeshift work area. Flashing sparkles flickered from the gnome's fingers, and wooden planks snapped together to form a table. Pockets within pouches and packs magically opened and spilled out various wood and stone tools, which landed neatly on the table. A fire then materialized in the air above the table, blazing brightly without setting anything ablaze.
“Gnome magic is truly amazing,” Rose marveled. She was fascinated that creatures like gnomes could bend reality to their will without needing sage symbols, runes, or diagrams. It was like they had powers from a fairy tale.
Meanwhile, Opalstein stood to the side, his arms crossed and his forgotten potion bottle lying on the ground.
Herbs fell from another of the gnome’s packs and swirled in a twister before landing in a glass vial that floated out of another pack. Liquid formed in the air shaped like a bubble, and when the dwarf popped it, the water drained cleanly into the vial holding the herbs.
The vial was then set above the flames, and the gnome twirled his tiny hands in circular motions, causing the contents to swirl. After just a few minutes, the potion was taken off the flame, glowing slightly with a red hue that matched its contents.
“Here you are,” the gnome said ceremoniously, waving his hand and sending the potion flying through the air to land in front of Rose, who clapped like a child at a puppet show. Despite just being heated over a fire, the vial was cool to the touch.
Rose sipped the potion delicately and cheered, “It tastes like raspberry tea!”
“I added something to help it go down easier,” the gnome explained, shrugging nonchalantly.
Rose finished the potion, and immediately her skin cleared and her injuries dissipated, and even her hair became less frazzled. Opalstein couldn’t hide his surprised reaction; his mouth hung open in amazement.
Opalstein lamented inwardly, Shouldn’t a high-quality potion take longer to make? Wouldn’t more magic power than what the gnome used be needed? What have I been doing with my life?
Without another thought, he dove into the air and landed in a bow before the gnome. “Teach me, master!” he screamed, his voice shaking.
“No, no,” the gnome denied, stroking his white beard. “I don’t take on apprentices.”
“I will work for free! I will give you all my possessions as well!”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Thank you, sir gnome,” Rose said, bowing her head, trying not to be embarrassed by Opalstein’s actions.
The gnome turned away from Oppalstein and nodded toward the young woman. “I have a favor to ask,” the gnome said.
“Speak, and it shall be done, sir gnome.”
“With most of your strength returned to you, I would like you to help my young friend who is fighting that Battle Lord.”
“That Badlander is a Battle Lord?” Oppalstein blanched, getting back to his feet. “No wonder we couldn’t beat him.”
“Sir gnome,” Lady Verdinant said with poise and grace fitting her status, “You didn’t have to say a thing. We would have joined the fight regardless.” She picked up her shield and unsheathed her blade, its metal singing as it came out of its sheath. After a short bow, she hurried off in the direction of the sounds of battle.
Oppalstein rushed to join Lady Verdinant, but not before turning to bow to the gnome. He promised himself he would find another opportunity to ask for apprenticeship later, no matter what it took.
Meanwhile, Polopp watched with satisfaction. He couldn’t afford to lose Red and these humans would help keep Red alive so as the gnome could begin his research. His legacy as an alchemist would be made legendary because of that young man’s peculiar soul predicament. Turning to face the three other injured humans, he shrugged and decided to concoct three more potions for them as well. They could come in handy in the upcoming fight.
The kickboxer threw three kicks in rapid succession, but they only bruised the Badlander, who charged at him relentlessly. No matter how hard the kickboxer hit him, he couldn't slow the Badlander down. His only advantage was his speed.
The Badlander chased after the kickboxer as he ran up a tree, leaving behind a trail of golden light. Just as the Badlander was about to catch him, the kickboxer kicked off the tree to another one, with Battle Lord Otai hot on his heels. Otai nearly punched him after closing in on him, but the kickboxer had only pretended to be cornered in order to land a combination of punches and kicks before speeding away down the tree.
"Little rat!" Otai roared, covered in bruises. "Stop running away!"
"This is like, tactical retreating, dude," the kickboxer retorted, hopping over a wide clutching hand. "Sun Tzu said that retreating is cool!"
No matter what Otai did, the kickboxer always slipped away from his attacks and counterattacked with some strange martial art he'd never seen before. If the kickboxer had been a Badlander, Otai would have stopped at no expense to recruit him.
Then an idea struck him. "Boy," Otai said, standing across from the kickboxer, "If you join me against the necromancer, I'll let you live. In fact, we seem fit to work together."
The kickboxer's face twisted in disbelief. "Dude, your face tattoos make you look like a poser. I'm no poser, bra. I'm like, a real dude. Like, really real."
"I meant we both love to fight," Otai said, smirking.
The kickboxer’s eyes brightened, and his relaxed posture tensed. The call of the fight always resonated within Red’s foreign memories. Each personality that came with the memories called for training and fighting. Even the relaxed kickboxer, who saw life as a river that all things should naturally follow, loved to fight.
"Your gaze betrays you, boy," Otai said. "I can tell that you love fighting even more than I do. Why live among these Loderans in their so-called 'Jewel' city? They are soft and need reasons to fight, waiting for some cause to rouse them before they can muster the resolve to act."
Otai's eyes glimmered as he spoke. "We're not like them. We don't need a reason to fight. They don't even see our kind as people; to them, we're just savages. But why do they consider us lower? How are their reasons better than ours?"
The kickboxer pondered for a moment before responding, "Bra, I'm living the way I want to live."
"No, you're not. You're living the way they tell you to live," Otai countered. "What reasons do you have to return to a polite world where false smiles and empty promises outweigh meaningful and simple desires like fighting? Who is demanding that you return to such a world? I can tell, boy. Your love of fighting came from being born in a bad place. No one who hasn't gone hungry a day in their lives could ever understand those of us who had to fight for everything we have."
"Manager Dwindle and Poly are waiting for me..." The kickboxer trailed off, a pang of guilt settling in his chest. He had attacked Dwindle, the very person who had taken him in and given him a chance to make a living as a fighter. He knew he had screwed up, and Dwindle probably hated him for it. But despite that, he couldn't shake off the feeling of betrayal. If Dwindle hadn't given up on him, why hadn't he come looking for him? Red had been missing for some time, and yet there was no sign of the dwarf. The kickboxer felt a mix of confusion and resentment bubbling inside him. Maybe it was time to move on, to find a new manager and a new place to call home.
When the incident at the fruitless forest happened, Poly had screamed at Red for hurting Dwindle. She had told him what he did was wrong. But wasn’t Red only doing what he was supposed to do? He didn’t know anything else besides fighting. His mother was gone, and the world was too hard to understand.
Why should Red go back to a world that didn’t care about people like him? A Reeking Valley slum child, that’s all he’s ever been. No Classy Slums dwarf or elf singer from a friendly forest would understand him. No one in the fancy districts would ever care to know him; they didn't even know he existed.
The kickboxer closed his eyes and looked within where he found himself in another world.
Above there was darkness and light like the night sky but no sun or moon, all of it spinning in streaks of light without end. A mirror was in front of him and in it, he saw a scared young man, an arrogant man, a man who wouldn’t stop putting on a show, and a man who would do anything to win.
The kickboxer focused in on the young man shaking in fear. This young man was him but not him. They shared the same emotions and same wants and desires. But the kickboxer knew the young man was helpless and needed someone to look out for him.
“Hey dude,” the kickboxer said to the image in the mirror, “It’s me, your best bro. Listen Red, I think it’s time we moved on.”
The young man, Red, looked up to see the kickboxer. “What’s going on? A light stopped me and these other foreign memories from moving. Why are you in control of me now?”
“Some square used a glowing thing to try and enslave you guys. And what do you mean controlling you? I am you, Red,” the kickboxer said, his eyes filled with understanding. “But never mind that, I’m going to make sure we go where we want to go from now on. No more Dwindle. No more Poly. And no more Soalde. We can be free now.”
“But Dwindle and Poly are my friends! Stop making decisions for me! You’re bad juju! Get out! Get out!”
“Out there, we can fight as much as we want, Red,” the kickboxer argued, “Soalde doesn’t care about us. We’re from the Reeking Valley. Dwindle and Poly doesn’t know us. Only we know us.”
Red trembled as he shouted, “Leave me alone! You foreign memories hurt Dwindle. You guys are the reason I lost my home in the Classy Slums. You made Poly mad at me!”
“Dude, where would we be if we left you alone?”
Red quieted, his expression becoming lost.
“Would you be a gypsy brawling champion without us? Would they have let someone into the Hunter’s Guild that couldn’t read and couldn’t fight? Would Dwindle or Poly even care about you if you didn’t have our skills? No, they would pass you on the street without a look, bra. That’s real.”
“That’s not true…” Red tried to argue, but he never was good at it.
“Red, only together can we be as rad as possible, dude. Let’s blow this popsicle stand. We’ll leave these squares in the dust, how about it?”
“I have a nice bed in the Classy Slums, a place me and mama always wanted to live. And the White Rabbit district! Don’t forget about that. The Hunter’s Guild branch there said I can come. I’m a Base Rank 10 Hunter now. They want me there.”
The kickboxer shook his head and said, “That home in the Classy Slums is Dwindle’s. You hurt him, Red. He’s not going to want us to come back, bra. The tide’s gone out, dude. And how are we going to live in the White Rabbit district? We can’t depend on Dwindle any longer for help.”
“You guys are the ones who hurt Dwindle,” Red said, clinging to the only thing he could combat with. He was beginning to falter. Maybe Dwindle truly hated him, and the White Rabbit district, how could he ever survive in such a place without Dwindle or mama?
Red wanted to say more but couldn’t.
“Don’t worry, bra,” the kickboxer smiled, radiating sympathy, “I’ll make sure we’ll ride the best waves from now on. No one will stop us, Red. We’re going to be fine. Mama is going to rest easy knowing her boy is able to survive on his own.”
Before long, the kickboxer evaporated as if he were smoke, leaving Red in the “mirror” lost and confused.
Rose landed heavily, tossing up dirt and cracking the ground beneath her. Around her, a silvery aura swam through the air, bright and alluring. She stood tall, seeming like a painting that adorned the halls of the Hunter’s Guild. She had prepared herself for grueling combat, but what she found instead were two men speaking amiably.
“Um, what’s going on here?” She asked taking a step forward.
The young man with the golden aura turned to face her and grinned, “Change of plans, dudette. I’m not on your side anymore.”