Chapter 19: Austerity

Petra smirks then gestures for me to follow. We walk past targets and different arenas with people sparing. The ferocity of the battles compares with the combat of earlier like fassars and kittens. One creates feelings of warmth while the other invokes acceptance of mortality.

We reach a back room were an armored figure lashes at a target dummy with precise, powerful strikes aimed for killing. Petra shouts,

“Put on armor. Joan. Teach this petty brat what gemchaining is.”

A light, feminine voice laced with marble answers, “Of course Petra.”

I put on the armor as Joan readies her weapon. I decline the shield and pipe as I won’t be able to fight with them during normal exchanges. I set myself in a trelling stance as Petra laughs while saying, “You're gonna get crushed without a weapon.”

We walk out of the back room into one of the arenas. The smooth floor shows wear from years of scuffling on the surface. The grime and blood has been pressed between cracks so deep, the color of the floor has changed over the years to a light red from a pale white. Four lanterns line the outer edges of the moderately sized arena providing light for battles.

When we step in the ring and face each other Petra shouts, “Begin!”

I step into my stance and rear for an attack when a thrust impacts my stomach. I turn mitigating the force while setting up my next attack. As I turn momentum builds in my hand readying me for a weighted blow, but Joan moves forward from where I stood.

My blow cleaves through air as she sharply knocks my neck from behind forcing me off balance. I land on the floor when Petra laughs, “Ha! Pathetic!”

Deluge laughs as well.

I rotate around blocking another slicing downwards blow towards my face. I angle the strike so it slides off my right hand, but she quickly re-angles the attack into my side. A stinging blow racks my body as I hook my arm towards her while grabbing her pipe.

She dodges the strike by leaning backwards while also moving the sword out of my grasp. I then move my hands close against my sides with my arms pointed toward her while dashing forward.

Joan slides her right foot gliding sideways cutting towards my side cutting me off, and she swings the pipe while doing so slamming the pipe with great force against my helmet.

My head flies backward as I fall to my knees. She immediately lifts her pipe then swings downward. Exploding agony berates my torso as a heavy blow knocks all breath from my body. I crumble into a ball as she wails with a series of right and left strikes towards my exposed back.

Three blows land on my ribs shooting acute, poignant suffering through my body before I lash out towards her legs. She stomps forward as her pipe glows brown growing earth from under my neck blasting my vision from the rock floor towards the sky again.

I roll then scramble upwards as several blows land against my legs and spine. I shove my arm towards her pipe as they crash against each other. The force rattles the bones in my arm weakening my knees. The joints wobble before I straighten myself.

She dashes forward then strikes against my thigh with a heavy blow. Searing torment erupts from my thigh as I attempt striking again only to meet air then be struck twice more upon my leg. I hear her breathing growing heavy as I pressure her.

She continues landing crippling, spine shattering blows upon every exposure, but I do not relent. My vision blurs as the punishment starts building. The ache from earlier become excruciating torment as liquid pours from multiple places off my body. I barely elude bone cracking swings towards my legs. I push forward.

I implacably heave and push with unending composure.

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Blood oozes from my dented helmet and numerous welts have both swelled and burst leaving blood throughout the floor. Petra no longer smiles. Instead she wears a stony grimace at the violent spectacle.

I charge for Joan whose breath raggedly continues as she distances herself yet again without reward. I continue chasing her until I slip on my blood falling, and  a sickening pop sounds from my upper left arm. My breathing chokes in my throat, but I conquer the pain as I have many times before.

I hobble back up then relocate my shoulder with a screeching grimace then continue forward with deliberate and systematic stress.

Joan sweats profusely as parts of her expose pale skin from my hideous visage. I dredge onwards with welcome compulsion. Her arms shake violently until I am upon her.

I strike her once immediately slamming her sideways gravitating her head towards the ground. She drops on the floor breathing like an animal who escaped drowning only seconds prior. I  jump on her then we scramble for a few seconds before my legs clamp over her waist.

I pound and pummel with strict, decisive strikes against her helmet denting her mask and then knocking her unconscious. I stand up then crack my neck before pounding my gauntlets together while saying,

“Whats next. Teacher.”

The room no longer has whips or heavy breathing in the air. Only the stillness of a barren graveyard deluges the air. The audience grew as time passed eventually encompassing several dozen people. What was a violent spectacle changed into an unthinkable upset in seconds.

Petra shakes her head back and forth as though shaking water from her head and eyes then says, “Alright. You can fight. You're a brute, but you're the toughest brute I have ever laid eyes on. I don’t know how you sustained that beating from Joan with her using gemchains, but you have gotten my attention.”

She sighs then continues, “You can come here two weeks from now and we’ll resume training.”

I stomp the floor while shouting, “I’m ready to start now. Where's the hell you speak of? What’s a battle without a little blood?”

Petra frowns before saying firmly, “You passed the test alright. You don’t have to pretend to be a tough guy. You are one.”

I take the helmet off then take a step forward slipping again. I fall unconscious as I land.

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I resuscitate laying in a bed with Luke and Antoinette sitting in silence beside me. I close my eyes then reach for Deluge.

I question, “Why would you let me fall unconscious?”

Deluge replies expectantly, “You wanted to test yourself not me, so I reset the changes I made towards your strengthened physique. You fought her on your own and prevailed.”

I reply aghast, “Surely you spin falsehoods. I am much taller and larger than I would be normally.”

“You are as tall as you would have been at the age of sixteen. Same with your weight.”

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“Then I gain the advantage of age,” I say with slight disappointment.

“Your opponent was sixteen years old,” Deluge says dryly.

“You retained my conscious. That much must surely be true.”

“Quite. She attacked with intent to kill. I could not stand by and watch us die, so I kept your conscious intact, but that is all. You beat her with every other factor remaining original.”

I pause for around twenty full seconds. Then I say deeply moved, “Thank you Deluge. I don’t understand why that meant so much to me, but thank you. I may only ponder that I felt my exploits not my own.”

deluge laughs chidingly then belittles, “Of course you only managed because of me holding your conscious together. You would have only lasted five minutes instead of the full twenty it took to beat her.”

I say with uncrackable gratitude, “You still allowed me to prove myself. Thank you for that.”

Deluge says in disgust, “This will be the only time Jack. Your appreciation assures my interference in the future.”

I reply unabatedly, “As you have given me, I shall return. Do you wish for something?”

Deluge replies, “I want for consolidation.”

I reply regrettably, “I can’t go around killing people. Something more doable?”

Deluge brainstorms, “Hmmmm. What about allowing me control over the body?”

I ponder for a moment then say, “Forever?”

Deluge replies annoyed, “Your life here has just started yet you offer it over? Rather altruistic of you but no. I want to experience some of the physical joys involved with the human body.”

I reply awkwardly, “Uhhhmmm. Like what?”

Deluge replies blunt as an immovable wall, “Ejaculation, expulsion, excreting, mating, eating, etcetera. These are experiences I wish to have.”

I reply in embarrassment, “I mean. Sure. I suppose. I don’t know what ejaculation is.”

Deluge replies offhandedly, “Ask your friend Luke. I am sure he will know. This is all I ask and the souls of those who are near death.”

“I will oblige at some point.”

Deluge replies intrusively, “Your acquaintances await.”

“Then until we talk again.”

I open my eyes then lift my head and look around as though confused. My gaze alternates between Antoinette and Luke when I say, “How long have I been in dormancy?”

Antoinette looks up from her book then runs over and hugs me. My wounds are gone, and the last time I hugged another person was over seven months ago, so I grasp with a stiff motion at the closeness as Antoinette says,

“Thank goodness you're alright. When they brought you in, you looked even worse then after the fassars.”

Luke replies animatedly, “You beat THE Joan Huxley! THE Joan Huxley! You told me you had fought before not that you were a damn hero!”

I reply while glaring at Antoinette, “I am simply lucky. No doubt rumors of my exploits will grow rapidly through the mouths of others. I wouldn't want people thinking I’m some freak that mangles behemoth boas or fassars would I?”

Antoinette releases me from her grasp then looks confused for a moment before replying suspiciously, “Yeah we wouldn't want th-”

I interrupt her hampering giveaway, “Either way, how did your trial end?”

He smiles while flexing his right arm to his side, “I passed. I knocked my first opponent out, but the next one eventually just gave up after we had fought for ten minutes. We had to fight because you went and fought THE Joan Huxley. How did you beat her?”

I reply, “Through tenacity. Observe Luke.” I gesture towards myself, “I lie crippled as she stands. Her blows lacked the power to sever my conscious, but if she had a sword I would have been dead. Simply a mismatch.”

The fact painfully asserts itself. Without the armor protecting my head I would have relied on Deluges powers for victory. If she had a sword, we would both be dead. Deluge replies, “With absolute certainty. She was truly skilled. I cannot regenerate a missing head.”

Luke’s dejected face contemplates momentarily. He then says after the pause, “Well that sucks.” He thinks before saying, “Well I hope you guys are ready for classes. They start tomorrow.”

I smile knowingly, “I will be fine. The real question remains this ladies performance.” I nudge her side.

Antoinette blushes slightly before facading, “I am more than able. I will excel in my classes just fine thank you.”

I reply, “I merely jest. Effort and time alone causes great change as-”

Luke interjects, “You’ll be fine. I’m normal and I’m sure I’ll manage just fine here.”

Antoinette replies blundering, “Uh. Thank you I guess.”

Luke replies smoothly, “No problem. We should leave. Jack needs rest.”

“He may not need much, but either way we should leave,” Antoinette agrees.

I reply, “Good by and thank you for being here like this.”

Luke replies nonchalantly while walking out, “Of course. It’s what friends do.”

Making friends proves easier than I had predicted. What a pleasant surprise. Deluge snickers while saying, “Did you believe that you would be alone for your entire existence?”

I reply with bleakness, “Maybe I did.”

Since my parents died in that god forsaken forest, very few people have cared about what happens to me. Morne and Kless abandoned me while Geralt uses me as a tool as I use him. Luke has only known me for a single day, yet he waits in my room until I awaken.

Antoinette's presence surprises me. She sounded as though my presence disturbed her. She cares though. They remind me of my times with Morne and Kless. The spirited glow of hospitality and kindness that radiated from the inn bathes my dry soul with ethereal ichor.

My parents waited for my awakening when I was but a child. They hummed of harmony and gently cradled with words of celestial beauty. Time phased ephemerally as my virtuous dreams encompass me. My heart squeezes misery married with joy.

Somehow, my happiest reminiscence relinquishes tears unmeasured. Times of the sun and closeness admonish anguish. Nostalgia forges sentimental memories. I relive the loneliness of the lost and forlorn. My suffering and sorrow culminates until I hear an estranged, gentle voice say,

“You’re not alone, Jack.”