Today was to be the last day of my frantic preparations. I’d found a way to boost my attack power, Cali was clear on our plan of action, and I’d made my promises to Benadora and the other scholars who were chomping at the bit to get into the depths of the Tall School for real and start working. At our earliest convenience we trudged our way back to Tahar’s village to try and find the last piece of our puzzle – a [technique] I could use to further enhance my attack power.

The chances were low. If they did utilize melee weaponry, it was likely to consist of spears and blunt weapons, not two-handers like Stigma. My only hope was that this theoretical technique could be used with a multitude of different weapons.

Walking down into the village was starting to become an appealing task. It was a cosy little place filled with friendly faces, far away from the drama on my home continent. Unfortunately, that drama still hadn’t been cleared up just yet – so my retirement plans had to wait for the time being. I returned the greetings given by the various inhabitants without offending any of them in the process, so that was something.

Tahar was in her usual spot, with her legs hanging over the wooden walkway outside of her hut. I patted her on the shoulder, “Good morning Tahar, I think today will be the day we fight.”

“Fight monster? Yes, fight!”

“But there’s one more thing I want to do. Can you show me your warriors?”

“Warriors,” Tahar had a pensive look on her face. At first, I believed she did not know the meaning of my words, but she explained eventually. “Village, no warriors. All men and women fight to protect village.”

I rephrased my question, “Who is the most powerful? Strongest?”

“Truss. Elder huntsman, very skilled. I show you to them.”

Tahar hopped up onto her feet and led the way. It was a short walk through to the other side of the settlement, where a lone hut rested against the base of a twisted tree. A small plume of smoke escaped through a gap in the canopy roof. Several tools and weapons were mounted on a small rack made from wood and twigs.

“Truss!” Tahar spoke, “Er shall parut?”

“Hun!” The curtain covering the hut’s doorway was swept aside, and a truly titanic man stepped out into the clearing. He was at least eight feet tall. His arms were huge, covered in corded muscle and dense feathers.

“Ren tu shel fun ryon nagamu.”

He studied my form from above before posing a question to Tahar, “Er shall valia fan tor?”

I didn’t understand any of this. The bulky warrior bent down and grabbed my midsection using his dinner-plate sized palms. He applied a steady amount of pressure against my stomach, then my chest, and finally my arms. I held my ground as he seemingly inspected me for my suitability. He almost studied the equipment covering my body, rapping my chest plate with his knuckles. He made a motion to touch Stigma but…

“Don’t do anything to him,” I whispered.

“Fine.”

He backed away as I understood his intent. I took off my sheath and handed it to him. He held out his hands to receive it, but almost fell over when the full weight of Stigma pulled down on his body. He heaved it back upwards and shook his head. He then gave it back to me with quaking arms. The weight had taken him by surprise. It put into context just how monstrously strong I had become, if me beating an entire lynch mob of mercenaries single-handedly hadn’t already…

He grunted, “Hun. Fu san tama.”

Tahar smiled, “Impressed with strength He will show you. Decide if worthy.”

Assuming too much, I reached to take Stigma in my own hands again. Tahar stopped me by grabbing my arm, “No weapon. Use hand.”

I tilted my head at that. Wasn’t this meant to be used with a weapon? For the sake of brevity, I refrained from making any complaints until I saw it in action. He hoisted a small plank of wood between the two stumps and lay it horizontally.

The old bird closed his eyes and inhaled a breath so deep that I could see the air distorting in front of me. He straightened out his yellow hand into a solid block, like he was about to chop down on the wood like a karate demonstration. But I knew one thing for sure – this wood hadn’t been prepared in advance. It was thick enough to support a building.

Then I saw it.

He moved with incredible speed. As my brain struggled to catch up, I could see the path of his hand travelling down and down, leaving behind a solid afterimage that mimicked having several dozen extra arms. As he hit the surface of the plank, he cut through the wood like it was made from water. It snapped clean in two. The shortness of the movement and the stillness of his body made it look effortless.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“What was that?”

“Ryon Nagamu. Technique passed through ages. Hones spirit and weapon.”

From what I saw, Tahar was right when she said it didn’t require the use of a weapon. A multi-class skill like this would usually demand a lower level than a specific one. The ubiquity of how people gatekept techniques behind certain levels instilled hard limits on whether you could ‘use’ a technique or not. If you tried to teach a level six swordsman to use power strike, it wouldn’t work because they were one number short of the ‘required’ level. To the collective you weren’t experienced enough.

Whatever it was, it was more sophisticated than making a sword hit harder. If I could cleave the monster’s skull clean in two like he did to that piece of wood, we’d be home free. This was way cooler than power strike. My juvenile heart was jumping for joy! But I did have some questions lingering, “He’s going to teach me? I’m an outsider.”

“You slay beast on behalf of village - we are all family under the sun. And Truss sees your inner strength. He will impart his knowledge to you so you may succeed and bring legend back here.”

It was the first hint that perhaps there was more to killing this thing than I’d initially realized. They really wanted it dead. I could fault them for convincing outsiders to try their luck and marching them to an early grave, but I could only assume that the same monster had killed a great number of their own people too.

“Can you translate?”

“Yes. Let us begin.”

Things weren’t going to be as easy as following a few instructions though. Before we even started on attempting to cut a tree in two with our hands, the old man had me performing a series of strenuous breathing exercises. I had never practiced holding my breath and it showed – his lungs were capable of holding out for a prodigious amount of time before he needed to inhale again. In and out, with his hands pressing down on my chest to stop me from breathing. Then his feet, then in various positions that made it even harder.

After that, it was a test of balance and skill. The first challenge involved snatching a small clay cup of water with appropriate speed without spilling anything inside. I didn’t expect the training to involve this kind of martial arts movie fuckery, but I went along with it for the sake of getting it over with. I repeated it dozens of times, making small adjustments to the movement of my forearm and legs until I could do it without releasing a single drop.

That seemed to satisfy him. I was starting to piece together what each of these tasks were meant to show me. When he used the technique, the movement of his body was minimal, in direct opposition to the standard school of martial thought that relied on full-body momentum – applying the full force of your body on a single axis to deliver the most damaging blow.

This attack was short, sharp, fast and precise. It coiled the muscles in the body and used less force than a normal punch. On Earth that wouldn’t work; in this world where magic was commonplace, it was possible to make this kind of technique incredibly powerful. The same type of thought had gone into both, but here those thoughts had a profound magical power that could make fantasy into reality.

Tahar was very on point with translating his instructions in a way that I could understand. I needed to pay her back with some more language pointers later. After I had shown my ability to snatch the cup of water, it was finally time to actually try and use the technique myself.

“Breath slowly. He showed you. Focus on the object, and how it should be destroyed.”

“Destroyed?”

“Everything has an end. There is weakness. A moment in time. Guide it there.”

I closed my eyes, tensed my muscles, and went through the steps again. The old warrior had already prepared a practice target for me, another plank of wood just like the one he had used before. It was going to hurt if I didn’t do it properly.

I threw down my arm.

Thwack!

“Fucking shit!”

I cried out and clutched my pulsating hand with a scowl. Even with my obscene strength a piece of solid wood wouldn’t snap under the pressure. I felt something, but I hadn’t properly executed the technique as intended. If only I had the ability to perfectly understand what Truss was saying to me. The exasperation on his face was plain as day. He barked out some corrections at me, which Tahar was forced to clumsily translate.

“Too fast. Focus more. Remember training.”

Easier said than done with a bruised hand. Every time I failed at doing it, things would just get that little bit harder. I needed to do it properly quick before I turned it into a bloody, broken lump. I closed my eyes and really tried to block out the pain.

Focus. Remember what he told me. Focus on the end of this piece of wood. This piece of wood was about to die. He wasn’t going back home to his wood family. I was going to find it’s weakest point and split it down the middle. It was going to bend and break under the restrained force of my will. I moved suddenly and without hesitation.

“[Ryon Nagamu!]”

I felt a charge of magical energy wrap itself around my fist. The plank splinted into two pieces as my hand cut through it like a hot knife through butter. It fell to the ground and I pumped my fist in celebration. I showed that plank who was boss.

And soon, I’d show that monster too.

Tahar clapped politely at the display, “Well done!”

Truss seemed pleased too. It was the first positive expression I’d seen on his grumpy face since I started training with him some six hours ago. “I think we have everything we need to kill this thing.” I turned to see Cali’s reaction – but the elf had fallen asleep atop a nearby log. Was it really that boring to watch?

Truss patted me on the back, “Leav sor val traha.”

“He wishes you luck on the hunt. Bring glory to name and village.”

I shook his hand, “Thank you. I’ll use this well.”

I walked over to Cali and nudged her awake. She blinked herself back to wakefulness. “Hm? Oh, Ren. I am sorry for falling asleep. Benadora was making an awful racket last night.”

“I learnt the technique. We have everything we need. It’s all or nothing. If this doesn’t do it, I don’t know what will.”

“Exciting,” Cali declared with all the enthusiasm of a corpse.

“Tahar, are you coming with us?”

The big lady nodded, “Must see result with own eyes.”

It was going to happen today, after a stop back at our camp to make sure everything was good to go.