Blood dripped from a long, shallow cut on Symon's forearm, a gentle pitter-patter of the red liquid that reminded him of rain. Panting heavily, he took a few steps back before flicking his arm several times, trying to prevent the blood from flowing down to his hand and loosening his grip on the sword.
The first flick; a small tide of crimson splattered against the dead grass.
The second flick; a few more droplets added themselves to the pool of blood at his feet.
A final flick; nothing. The wound had sealed over.
"Again!" he cried for what felt like the thousandth time, raising his sword into a defensive position as he did so — or at least his best imitation of one.
Aslan approached him slowly, one hand behind his back while the other held a sword of his own. His preferred weapon was the spear, but he possessed the Swords passive too. It was a much lower level, but his raw stats coupled with his general combat experience meant he would have beaten Symon even without it.
Symon didn't need to beat Aslan, though. He simply needed to be better than the Symon of five minutes ago.
All of a sudden, Aslan's sword whipped out, coming at him in a wide sweeping arc. Symon knew his sparring partner was deliberately using inefficient attacks to give him a chance to react — he could have stabbed him in the chest before he could even see it coming — but even then he only barely managed to slap the blade away with his own. The impact jarred his arm, the heavy vibrations moving up through his bone.
Aslan had taken a step back after the attack, ensuring he was out of draining range. After all, this was to train Symon in the art of the sword, not to use his magic.
Another horizontal sweeping attack came his way, the same strike as the last except this was from Symon's right instead of his left. Once again he tried to deflect it, paying extra attention to the angle of impact as the blades collided. This time, the blade scraped against his with a painful screech before being successfully deflected. Well, mostly successful. He'd pushed his opponent's sword away from his body, but he was pretty sure the force of it had sprained his wrist in the process. His Pain Resistance made it hard to determine how bad the injury actually was, but the dull ache quickly faded to nothing as his healing went to work, so it must have been minor.
He didn't know Aslan's exact Strength, but he knew it had to be at least twice his own. Aslan could have used brute force to power through any attempted block of his, so he had to rely on perfectly deflecting a sword moving so fast he could barely see it. Predictably, he was finding this quite difficult.
Once more, the fighters took a step back from one another, preparing to reset their attempt. Symon stole a quick glance at his vessel tattoo. He was burning through his vitality, although it was happening slower than he expected. He remembered his magic taking half a dozen points of vitality to heal the shallow wounds inflicted by one of those damn centipedes, but now he expected a similar wound would only take half that amount to heal, and in half the time.
"I think I almost have it," he said to Aslan between gasps for air. "This time, I want you to treat it more like a real fight. No stopping after every attack."
Symon immediately spotted the hesitation on the other man's face. Their sparring was already far more intense than what most normal people would consider, but Symon's magic wasn't normal. He'd barely had his abilities for a week, and yet he trusted them implicitly. They'd saved his life many times over already, so how could he not? The rules of the spar dictated no shots to the head, so he was confident that he'd be able to survive any singular blow. He really wasn't looking forward to getting hurt more, but a bit of pain now could be the difference between life and death in the future.
"You are sure, friend Symon?" Aslan asked, to which Symon gave a nod.
The moment Aslan raised his sword, Symon charged forward. Other than his healing and draining magic, Symon had few advantages compared to anyone else, but he still had a trick up his sleeve. He'd earned and trained his Running Passive by using his vitality to sprint and full power for hours at a time, and now it was time to show it off. Being a Passive meant it was always working, but he'd had few opportunities to go all out with his running since meeting the adventurers — they weren't able to maintain the speed he could, not that it was possible to run without clearing a path through the grass first.
That was to say that the others didn't understand just how fast Symon could move. It wasn't even close to the whole body dexterity of someone like Safiya, but his legs could move pretty damn fast when he pushed himself.
With a deep breath, he launched himself forward like a bullet, moving directly towards his opponent standing at the opposite end of the cleared circle of grass they'd been using to spar in. The skill improved all aspects of his running, meaning he accelerated to his maximum speed incredibly quickly.
The moment he saw the tip of Aslan's sword begin to move to intercept him, he used the skill to the opposite effect, slowing down to a stop almost immediately before changing his heading and resuming the charge. His plan was simple; get Aslan to think he was going in one direction, then quickly switch to Aslan's more undefended side. Considering the stat disparity, this normally wouldn't have been enough. Symon could run faster, but Aslan was faster in general and was more capable of the quick reactions needed for combat.
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Luckily, Symon had the element of surprise; none of the adventurers had gotten a proper look at him really leaning into his Running.
Aslan's eyes widened in shock as his blade passed through where Symon should have been, catching only air instead of flesh. He was already swinging back around, but by now Symon had finished his run in the opposite direction of the first strike, giving the blade the longest possible travel time to return to him.
It was only an extra fraction of a second, but often that could be the difference between life and death. Of course, they were both pulling their punches for the spar, which was why Aslan slowly lowered his blade once he realised the fight was over. The tiny nick on his chest told him as much.
Panting heavily — moving like that took a lot out of him — Symon pulled his blade back from where he'd pressed it near Aslan's heart. Despite how easy it would be to slip and stab his sparring partner right in the vital organ, Symon wasn't worried. He had enough vitality and was close enough that he was confident he could have fixed it in time, but that wasn't the source of his newfound confidence.
His grip on the blade had subtly altered, the weapon feeling much more secure in his hand. The posture of his entire body had shifted slightly, ensuring his balance was kept even with the blade extended.
"I think we did it!" Symon said excitedly, also no longer needing Keelgrave's help to translate the simple sentence.
With a smile on both their faces, they clasped hands for the brief moment Symon needed to send a small amount of vitality towards his sparring partner. The mark the sword had left was barely more than a papercut, but Symon donated an extra point of vitality to ensure his ally's muscles recovered faster. Aslan hadn't needed to push himself against Symon, but he still wanted to give the other man a thank you.
"Well struck, friend Symon!" Aslan said good-naturedly. "I was not aware you could move so quickly." It was a statement, but Symon recognised the unasked question. He'd noticed something similar in their occasional discussion as they marched — it seemed like something of a faux pas to discuss the details of someone else's Ledger, akin to him asking someone how much their job pays.
"I did a lot of running in the desert and managed to earn a passive for it," Symon volunteered. He didn't have the same hangups about it that others might, or at least he didn't with people he trusted.
"It was impressive, although the maneuverability seemed limited. Perhaps it would be more effective when paired with a spear, hmm?" he asked. At first, Symon thought that was just Aslan's bias for the spear — he still carried around the broken parts of his old one, which had been his primary weapon — but the more he considered it, the more he liked it. His Running passive was very helpful, but it was more for repositioning than for directly dealing damage.
But with a spear, he'd be able to make better use of his momentum, like a jousting knight who was able to run faster than any horse. Well, he wasn't that fast yet, but the dream was there. Of course, adding more momentum to his sword's attacks as well as using it to dodge was still very viable too.
There was nothing preventing him from learning both, although that would mean he'd have to split his attention and effort, which would lead to slower skill growth. This would in turn mean fewer evolutions for his skills, which, judging by the previous options he'd seen when he'd been able to evolve his Will and gain Pain Resistance, seemed quite powerful. He'd need to find a balance between being able to adapt to every situation without becoming a master of none.
With that in mind, Symon gave a two-fisted bow and thanked Aslan for the spar one last time before moving away to check his Ledger in private. Sure enough, the hours of training and sparring had paid off.
[You have acquired a new passive: Swords]
[Swords (0): Boosts all aspects surrounding the use of swords.]
[ Status:
Name: Symon
Class: Cursed Healer
Strength: 0.87 {+0.03}
Constitution: 1.18 {+0.04}
Acuity: 0.90 {+0.02}
Intelligence: 0.94 {+0.02}
Will: 1.18 {+0.02}
Vessel (Vitality): 6/17
Abilities:
Idealise (9) {+1}
Seize (10)
Essence Bond (10) {+1}
Passives:
Languages (7) {+2}
Pain Resistance (5)
Poison Resistance (0)
Running (7) {+1} ]
He'd finally done it! Taking only a week to earn a new passive entirely from scratch might have been pretty fast, but it hadn't felt like that for Symon. He'd swung that sword over and over until his muscles and mind were numb, repeating the same few simple strikes on the empty air until the process had been hammered into his brain. Even his dreams were sword-themed, although they hadn't been magical memory dreams.
Even without any levels, the effect was subtle yet noticeable. Mostly, these were tiny adjustments to his posture — the sword sat more comfortably in his grip, and he was sure that would translate into being able to deliver stronger strikes.
With a few practice swishes in the air, he also had a greater sense of where the blade was in space and how fast it was moving. It wasn't like he was some sword master who considered the weapon an extension of his body, but he did have an unconscious understanding of how far his reach would be.
But the passive didn't just help him use the sword aggressively. Thinking back to his many fights with Aslan, he could already recognise several times when he'd misjudged Aslan's reach, needlessly putting himself into a dangerous position without any benefits. Similarly, he felt like he'd do a better job of parrying attacks, especially when the opponent was also using a sword. He intrinsically had a better understanding of how to angle his blade for both a proper deflection and a straight-on block.
"Hmm, I never considered that part," he said to Keelgrave. "The Ledger wasn't lying when it said all aspects of how you use a sword. I'll be better at fighting with it, obviously, but it'll also help when someone is trying to use a sword against me."
Of course, Keelgrave just couldn't give useful advice without adding random accusations regarding Symon's intelligence and ego. Oh well, he had to admit that the grouchy ghost was a very helpful combat trainer. Having someone watching, analysing, and judging every little thing he did probably saved him at least a month's worth of effort. Putting up with the snide remarks was a small price to pay.
This Sword passive would go a long way to making him feel secure in this new world, the only question was... what would he learn next?