FVR
Chapter Seventeen.
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Master my instincts, what does that even mean?
The sun was slightly lower in the sky, beginning its descent into the afternoon, yet still warmly heating Joel's freshly washed skin. Despite his efforts to clean himself, the faint smell of feces still lingered in his nose and on his tongue, sending the occasional shiver down his spine at the thought of what he had endured. He shook his head and scratched his hair, then breathed in the surrounding earthy smell as heavily as he could. It didn't help.
Navigating through the fortress turned out to be simpler than he expected; while its size was formidable, its layout was very linear. The noise had died, and the paths were almost entirely devoid of soldiers, both of which went unnoticed by Joel as he internally swore at his cursed bad luck.
After passing several occupied courtyards, each with a handful of people inside, he eventually found a vacant one, nearly identical to the one he was in earlier. He looked around to make sure he was alone, and sat in the corner facing the entrance in case anyone happened to stumble upon him.
I've got until the evening to train and figure a few things out, he told himself, let's see... His bath had given him the time to consider his next steps, and he had come to a few conclusions.
First, he needed to increase his mana sense and mana shield. While sat in the tub, he noticed that a single mana took a minute to replenish, and he lost one per ten seconds when using mana sense. Passively being able to train such important skills at any time of day was something he knew he had to capitalize on, and the sooner the better. He badly wanted to spend his skill points on mana capacity, but feared someone noticing in increase, which would surely have become more hassle than it was worth.
Second, he needed to temper his resolve; he wanted to stay, he was sure of that. Yet, no matter how much he told himself he'd stay at any cost, he couldn't act like it - hurting others was just too much for him - and that was becoming a problem.
Third, he needed to learn how to fight. Skills or no skills, stats or no stats, without knowing how to attack, how to defend, and how to strategize, Joel was a dead man walking and he knew it. His plan had been to find Ali and ask for advice, but that might be a rather tall order in such an environment.
Finally, he needed to find other players. Tutorial or not, Joel had to wonder why the game was designed with only twenty players per group, and he had too many questions that only someone like Simon would know - someone who was originally meant to be in the trial and didn't show up at the last minute.
With the dry dirt and warmed cobblestone under his bum, and the firm wall supporting his back, Joel took several breaths to relax himself and found a point to focus on; a single, small stone in the wall on the far end of the courtyard, slightly brighter in color than the others. Bit by bit, he heightened his senses, falling slowly into the depths of his vessel before finding the mana swirling within his body. Like before, he grabbed what felt like a bead, and moved it around within his body.
Patience was key here; the patience to find, move, and focus intently, all meant that he was able to increase his understanding of mana bit by bit. After a few minutes had passed, Joel was grabbing several bead-like-pieces and shifting them into various parts of his body. As the seconds passed by, the image in his mind became clearer. He focused on the tip of his finger; sensing the cool eb and flow of his mana, and moved some of it slightly, adding an invisible weight to the part he focused on.
He opened his eyes and reflected on the familiar feeling in his hand, which felt like pins and needles on the tip of his finger, and thought about how to replicate it outside of his body. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't extend his mana beyond his vessel. The seconds continued to pass by, and with them, his mana fell drop by drop, then suddenly ran out all at once. Shit! He looked around, making sure nobody had seen. I can't let it drop to zero around people or they could freak the fuck out. He held his breath for several seconds until a single mana returned, then relaxed his shoulders and exhaled, relieved that his mistake hadn't cost him.
Manipulating mana was strangely calming and highly rewarding; knowing that he would eventually be able to create shields, or block sounds, flooded his mind with possibilities.
Ultimately though, it's purely for support. What I need, he stood up and dusted himself off, is to learn how to fight. He looked to the weapons in the barrels and on the racks, then rolled his eyes with annoyance when he remembered he had lost his sword. Opening his character page and clicking on loadout one, he was surprised to see the Dozrak'een longsword was still equipped. With a raised eyebrow and a moment of thought, he recalled leaving his sword outside overnight after receiving his class, and how it returned to his hip the next day. There was still the mystery of why it wasn't on his hip, but considering the number of unknowns in this game - Joel was just happy to have his sword back.
I guess having it stolen means it comes back into my equipment over time? I bet that's fucking with a guards head right about now. Laughing at the image of a guard seeing the sword vanish brought a pained smile to his face, and the reminder of how it still hurt to smile.
As he pondered using the sword, a dilemma formed. I can't exactly swing this sword around, people would notice such an obviously foreign weapon, but I want to train with the longsword so I can use it later on. Fuck. Stop over thinking this shit, just grab a sword and swing it! With a reluctant action, he switched to his second loadout then unequipped his short sword and grabbed a new one from the rack: it was similar to his own, with the same length and same weight, but the hilt was wrapped in a tanned leather that appeared green in the sunlight. With Lor's words in his head, he picked up a small shield too - slighter larger than a standard buckler.
Approaching a dummy, sword and shield in hand, Joel recalled Lor's words on footwork and pondered how he could train it on his own. He stepped to the dummy with a half lunge, and swung slowly, mindful of his stance and deliberate in the shield's placement. He visualized being in a fight, and how his defense and movement would look with every action; he struck once, twice, and a third time, embedding the sensation of each movement into his muscles, which tensed with every strike. He kept this up for thirty minutes or so, then sat down and focus on his mana sense.
It was slow, and the more time Joel spent on it all, the more he realized just how long it would take to get to the level of someone like Dalton. Every moment opened his eyes to the depths of mana, and the skill involved with wielding a sword. But he had a relaxed confidence knowing he was currently in a non-fighting unit, which helped him breathe easier when he saw his slow progress.
***
With the sun still high in the sky, and evening still a few hours away, Joel's time was spent repeating the same actions over and over until the sun barely poked up over the mountains, and its heat retreated beyond the clouds. He sat on the ground, breathing heavily, and checked the wave timer: 05.12.21
Five hours... His main dread right now was an ambush while he slept, or something worse. There has to be a reason for the wave timer, but I can't see how there could be a wave while within the fortress. He could, he just didn't want to believe it. Images of Roland gave him pause, and the final stand he made.
Joel sat up after draining most of his mana one final time, and checked his proficiency: 5.1/100. Now able to grab several beads of mana and move them around, he started to feel some progress - however slow it was. Moving many beads of mana was likely a precursor to creating a mana shield, so he had a burgeoning hope that he was close to taking the first step into becoming someone capable of joining the infantry unit. Of course, that still came with its own problems: his lack of will to hurt another person being the prime hurdle.
A sense of frustration found him as he looked into the greying sky.
I went and said I'd be mastering my instincts, but all I'm doing is playing around. He dropped the shield to the ground and walked lazily into the center of the yard, scuffing his feet against the cobblestone floor with each begrudged step. Fuck. Progress or not, without tempering his instinct, he'd never amount to anything more than a cleaner of shit.
Joel closed his eyes and pictured the creature that nearly killed him. His right arm tingled at the thought, and the sounds of Tiberius and the prince rang through his ears, haunting his inadequacy, and his reluctance to use the cleansing strike sooner. But he persisted with the thought, focusing on the creature and on the attack he had failed to land.
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Speed. That was his main advantage. Unparalleled speed - that's what his class had to offer. Yet, he was still so slow.
He sighed, and turned back to the dummy. Last strike... he told himself. Closing his eyes and remembering what Lor had said, while feeling the strength in his legs and the power in his arms, he dashed forwards, slicing the dummy in two in a brilliant display of luck. With a slight chuckle, he remarked how easy it was against a stationary target. But as he looked up, his heart sank in his chest at the sight of the looming figure of Aurora staring back at him, the humor immediately evaporated into fear - like the final fire blowing out in the dead of night.
Shit, did she see anything? Shit. What was I doing!? As she stepped towards him from the entrance - her head tilted down slightly - his mind raced. Was he somewhere he shouldn't be? Was dashing a skill he shouldn't have? Did he accidentally use all his mana? Whatever it was, his heart couldn't take the cold stare from her eyes and the blood-red color of her name Aurora.
She approached a barrel and grabbed a wooden sword, then walked into the centre of the yard. "Try again," she said, her words laced with curiosity.
Another Lor? He thought, reminiscing on how they met. Things had changed since Lor though, and Joel was more resolved than before, but also more certain there was no way he could actually hurt the beast that waited eagerly for his strike. He looked up to Aurora, her eyes were hidden behind the slits in her visor as she tilted her head down. Mana sense only? Joel wondered. Regardless, he'd take whatever handicap was offered.
Joel took a few small steps forward, a strange excitement mounted with each careful movement. He adjusted his grip and felt the weight of it in his hand as he lined up his strike and held the blade across his body. With a suddenly pause, he had a momentary realization of how telegraphed the strike was because of how he readied his blade. He exhaled, stood up straight, and relaxed his arm. Aurora looked up slightly, her rear foot followed her forward gaze. Then, with a sudden change in stance, Joel prepared for the strike as he would during a real fight. With a sharp breath, he whispered the word, "dash."
***
The polished blade perfectly reflected the evening sun into Joel's eyes. Its rays danced daringly on its sharp edges as a testament to the enduring radiance of light's everlasting existence. Once again, the only thing his sword had cut was the tolerant air around him. He clicked his tongue, "tsk," go figure. He lowered the unblemished blade and turned to face his opponent - already by his side with her appraising hands on his leg.
"If you're thinking of eating me, there's not much meat to be found," he joked, partially concerned she was genuinely thinking of serving him up for dinner.
"You're quick," she said, standing up to face him, her visor still tilted slightly as to hide her eyes, "how?" She stood exactly level with him, but her shoulders eclipsed his own. Clad in a tarnished armor from head to toe, its dull surface weathered and worn, it spoke of its use, and her reliance on it. With a closer look, Joel noticed faint lines or circles where markings had once been, but were now smoothed over by the relentless passage of time. Every inch of her skin was covered, every ounce of femininity removed. If not for her voice, it would have been impossible to discern that there wasn't a man underneath.
"I don't understand," Joel lied, "I just am." He knew she was probing about his skill, but without knowing the rules of the world or how someone would react, he decided to keep it close to his chest. Lor saw me dash, but I had a lot less agility then. This level of speed might be too unnatural. The thought was borderline egotistical considering the things he had seen some people do, but it had a degree of truth to it.
A moment of silence fell between the two of them as a heavy cloud blotted the sun. What's happening here? He was entirely unprepared for such a strange encounter and had no idea how to talk to her, or if he even should. Her size alone was dominating, but the way she spoke, carried herself, and had only the second red name he had seen, all gave Joel cause for severe concern.
She lifted her head slightly, a tint of her golden eyes barely visible. "Training?" She asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Yes?" Joel replied awkwardly, returning them back to silence. Do I just leave?
"Again," she said, moving away from Joel. She turned and put up a defensive stance, then waited for Joel to strike.
Whatever the reason was, Joel had found himself with a sparring partner, and he wasn't about to let that opportunity slip away. The first thought that came to mind was to ask about footwork, but she still intimidated him too much to ask, and so simply went along with the current flow. He lined himself up without preparing a stance, then did what he had done before and spontaneously moved to dash in quickly, as to catch his target off guard.
"Wait!" She said, catching Joel off guard.
Joel had swung his blade back and was about to dash, so suddenly stopping meant his momentum nearly toppled him over. The fuck!?
"Don't slash. Pierce," she said, returning to her stance.
Pierce? He hadn't thought about it before, but intuitively thought it was a dumb idea. If I aim through her and connect then I'll crash into her, but if I stop too short I'll be too exposed. What's the use of this? Whatever, trusting her judgment without his normal hesitation, Joel crouched slightly and gripped the blade with one hand over the other, positioned it at chest level, poised to thrust forward, then spoke one word, "dash."
A thud and clash rang through the air as Joel crashed into the ground and rolled along the floor. The sensation of the rough ground on his bones and the abrasions ripped through his flesh as he rolled along the cobblestones and into the wall.
Shit, "shit!" That hurt! The fuck is she... Still laying on the ground with various stinging cuts dotting his body, Joel looked up to see Aurora on one knee with a broken wooden sword. It hit!? He tried to piece together what had happened, but he moved too quickly to see it.
He pulled himself up, using his sword for support as the clothing rubbed against his cuts and bruises.
He grimaced with every movement as his body ached from the pain, I'll grab a potion when she's not looking, he reassured himself; his pain, for once, was overshadowed by his own curiosity as he approached Aurora. She was turned towards the wall, in the direction Joel had ended, presumably from parrying his attack. Physically, she seemed unharmed, but she remained completely still for several moments as Joel approached, causing him to panic slightly.
"You fine?" He asked softly, unsure whether it was okay to take such pity on her and ignoring the fact he was the one hurt.
She looked up, as if woken from a nap, then stood and promptly threw away the broken sword. "Splendid!" She said much louder than usual and with a hidden smile. "Again!" She grabbed another wooden blade, then returned to the same stance. The energy that boiled off her was palpable as she remained ready for another strike.
Seriously!? While the immediate harshness of the pain had mostly faded, the stinging cuts still remained and Joel wanted to heal them as quickly as possible. He thought about asking to stop briefly, but then caught the clearest glimpse of her eyes yet: her visor, when head-on, revealed a swirling golden iris, like the patterns in a sunlit pool, or the tip of a flickering flame. If I say no to that, she'll tear through me, he raised a shaking hand that steadied as their eyes met. It wasn't ferocity, or violence that they showed, rather, a childish joy and uncontrollable excitement. Joel couldn't understand why he was the cause of such a gaze, but he was happy to accommodate it. He crouched himself down, and prepared for the same strike, when suddenly an abrasive voice of a man called from the entrance.
"Oi, oi, if it isn't an UN-wanted, UN-blessed, and with our dear little mule no less," he walked with a drunken gait and an entourage of several brutish-looking men.
Aurora didn't seem fazed by his words, nor their behaviour, instead, she lowered her stance and tilted her head down slightly - her vibrant energy having faded with the last remnants of the sun.
"We're off to town," one man said suggestively, "want to - kill - some time?" He asked, glaring at Joel briefly.
Joel's eyes shifted between the group and Aurora, the contrast was like seeing the difference between night and day. His brow furled as he took a moment to relax his body and pick out some grit from an open wound. Silence stretched for a few moments, with neither group uttering a word.
"Right right," the first man said, "nuff said. Another time, eh?" He readjusted the scabbard on his hip, then stumbled off and out of sight with the others.
The heck was that? Joel looked up to Aurora, who once again had her eyes averted. There was something about seeing her that way which felt lonely. Not sad. Just, lonesome. Joel looked to the sky, noting that the sun had gone and his time was up, then glanced over to the exit. He sighed softly, took a step forwards, then readied his blade. "Again."
Aurora looked up and tilted her head slightly sidewise, then raised her chin and returned to her defensive stance.
His worry over returning late was doused by the believe that Aurora would vouch for him. But really, he just wanted to keep at it. Finding a sparring partner was the closest he had come to finding a friend since Lor, and wasn't about to let go of that.
He prepared his stance, and tensed his body in anticipation for another trip along the cobblestone, then dashed forwards, this time, without the crash.
With a jolting thud, Joel had quickly realized he had been stopped in his tracks. He looked up to find Aurora holding his blade in a single hand, her wooden sword gently resting atop his head.
"How?" He asked, perplexed at how she reacted much better the second time. An intuitive realization answered, telling him she didn't speak much and that he shouldn't expect an answer. "Never..."
"Straight on," she said, interrupting Joel, "makes it harder to dodge. I had to parry." She looked back to the shattered sword from before, "but the wooden sword broke, and the force pushed you away. I apologize." She let go of Joel's blade, then ensured her gauntlet was still attached properly. "This time, I used my hand instead."
"But... But how!?" He pleaded, in a state of disbelief that she caught his strike so easily.
"Mana. Obviously." She replied.
Obviously, yes, obviously, but how!? Joel sighed and looked to the sky to find something to trace with his eyes, but the darkness had started to blur the night sky into a shapeless expanse. Why am I so fucking weak...
"You wish to learn?" She asked.
Joel's eyes shot back down, "yes!" He replied quickly, "actually, I," he paused for a moment, recalling his list, "I need to temper my resolve. I, I don't know if I'm capable of hurting someone." The moment he said those words he felt like a fraud. A wave of embarrassment swept over his cheeks as his eyes met hers and it dawned on him who he was talking to.
"Hmmm," she walked to the rack and stowed her wooden sword, then walked to the entrance with a contemplative slowness. "I have a way to temper your resolve." Aurora finally replied stoically. She looked up to Joel with her golden eyes, "come."
Joel picked up the shield that he had dropped, and for the second time since she had appeared, he acted immediately, choosing to trust her as he followed her out of the yard, through the fortress, and into the sleepy darkness of the night.