Captain Angleton kept his shield up with his left hand and adjusted his grip on his sword with his right. He moved with measured steps around the arena in order to ensure that he wasn’t surrounded. Calm breaths pumped through his lungs. His heart rate was elevated, but steady. ‘This is what I’m made for,’ he thought.
His three opponents glanced at each other. They were all sergeants. They had all taken the oaths of knighthood in the Hall of Truth. They were all strong defenders of Oglivarch. They were all getting beaten, and badly at that. That was just the way it went when fighting the Captain. He was a wall… that healed.
They coordinated over their links, and with common purpose charged.
With a strong push of his back foot, the Captain shot forward toward his chosen target, which was Sergeant Clark on his left.
As Clark’s spear was caught out of position by the captain’s charge, his grip folded and he face planted into the Captain’s shield. Stunned and flat-footed, Clark watched the Captain slip around the side to isolate him from his support.
As the other two sergeants, Borson and Blackwood, tried to reposition, the captain pulled on the essence in the air. With a casual flip of his hand, his sword switched to a reverse grip and he thrust the hilt toward Clark’s chest and a golden shield shot out toward the recovering sergeant. Borson and Blackwood could only grimace as Clark went shooting between them, his spear flying off in a different direction.
“Well, that’s it for Clark. You wanna try screwing with his senses again, that kinda worked before. I’ll blitz the bastard and take his legs,” Borson said over his link to Blackwood.
“It doesn’t work on him, you know that. He just fights blind,” Blackwood replied.
“I’m not hearing any ideas from you. Fuck it, let’s just go,” Borson said, then charged.
The Captain met Borson’s charge with a wide, two foot tall, three feet wide shield that Borson decided to jump over. Borson leapt in the air, essence swirling around him. His two handed claymore lit up with a red haze as he screamed. Slamming into the Captain like a descending meteor, the explosive charge stumbled Blackwood even several feet away.
The Captain had merely tilted his shield and leaned back a little to receive the massive strike. He didn’t smirk or congratulate himself, he was already moving. With a slight side-step to the left, he further exposed his back to Blackwood, while pushing Borson’s sword point to the ground with his shield. With his sword still held in a reverse-grip, the captain spun and led the sword point into Borson's back, just below the chestpiece. Borson cried out and collapsed, dropping his sword and focusing on stemming the blood. The Captain’s maneuver ended with his feet planted and his shield pointed at Blackwood who had tried to take advantage of the Captain having turned his back to him.
Blackwood’s shield clanged against the Captain’s. His charge foiled, Blackwood focused essence into his psychic field to disrupt the Captains equilibrium. As his ability hit, Blackwood tried to hook the Captain's shield with his own. Trying to stab over the top of their conjoined shields, he stumbled as the resistance disappeared from his shield. Feeling the Captain moving to his left he tried to reposition only to feel his leg suffer a deep wound at the knee.
As Blackwood fell forward, he caught himself using his shield, slamming it’s base into the ground to act as a crutch. He then froze as he felt the Captains blade at his neck, softly sitting on his shoulder from behind. ‘I don’t know why we even bother. Borson’s an idiot for always dragging us into these matches. We’d be better off just training with people our own level.’ he thought, while sighing.
Blackwood sat down next to a bleeding and cursing Borson, he watched the Captain sheathe his sword, and unsummon his shield. ‘The bastard isn't even breathing hard. Thirty minutes of careful fighting and he looks like he just attended a seminar on gardening,’ he thought.
The Captain raised his hand, and in the distance you could see an unconscious Clark being levitated toward the group.
The Captain placed Clark down and closed his eyes. Essence swirled and his hands glowed gold. He held them palm out toward the three, and waves of healing energy moved forward, clinging to the wounds. Soon, Clark woke up and shook his head as if he wasn’t surprised at what he found. Borson stretched and looked ready to go again. Blackwood however, didn’t move. He just stayed sitting down and stared at Borson like he was contemplating murder.
“Alright men, good effort. Each of you has improved a great deal since the last time we fought. However, there is plenty of room for further improvement. As the win is mine, I demand thirty hours in the yard from each of you, on top of your scheduled training,” The captain said. He turned, and added over his shoulder as he walked away, “I want it done by the new week.”
“Borson, this was the last time,” Blackwood grumbled.
“You always say that. We’ll get him next time,” Borson replied easily. He stood up, dusted himself off, then collected his claymore. Lovingly checking it for damage, he unsummoned it. Doing some stretches, he worked out the kinks in his back from the fresh healing.
“I wasn’t even in the room when you two assholes challenged him. Why the hell did it have to involve me?” Clark asked, as he went to collect his spear.
“We needed a third. During the meeting, I had said that we have gotten much stronger, and we could easily take the Captain now,” Borson said. He then waved to Blackwood, “Then he says that we couldn’t win even if we had a third. I called bullshit, and here we are.”
“Once again, what does that have to do with me?” Clark asked with his hands on his hips.
“Borson saw you first when we left the meeting room,” Blackwood shrugged while still sitting on his ass. His sword and shield were laying where he dropped them.
Clark just shook his head, “This is why no one likes you two. You guys suck.”
Sighing, Blackwood stood up and collected his gear. “Come on, I’ll buy you a beer and you’ll feel much better about it,” he said.
As they walked out of the training arena, they passed the meditation area where Captain Angelton was going over the fight in his head. Internalizing each move, each decision, his mind wandered to his current worries.
Command was concerned that they haven’t found any sign of Islangurs moving in the area. Other than the small camp that they cleared out without issue, there were no signs of a larger presence. While there shouldn’t have been any of them this far north to begin with, the collective opinion was that something didn’t add up.
The raiding detachment which performed the caravan raid didn’t have any powerful mages, and the men he had brought to subdue them was overkill. There was no one in that camp that could cloak a group that size, let alone open a portal. ‘How did they get here?’ he wondered, not for the first time.
The city’s mages have been spending their center like water, trying to scry for signs of the enemy. ‘Maybe someone in the merchant train saw something, so they had to be eliminated, even if it exposed the hidden raiders,’ he thought.
How large is their main force if they could sacrifice 100 men without issue? Every raider fought to the last. The survivors even detonated their center when faced with capture. Islangurs aren’t that loyal to their country. Everyone in that cesspit of a kingdom is just out for themselves. Command has every gate looking for answers, and no one has any. ‘I must be missing something. There is always a path forward. I just need a lead,’ he thought.
Using his link, the Captain brought up the report from intake concerning the sole survivor that was filed with the 7th Gate army detachment. The boy had no memories of the attack, no memories of anything. He was a completely new soul. The researcher that did his soul-eval did make a note that his perspective is completely foreign to this area. ‘Maybe he noticed something that he didn’t know was important,’ thought the captain.
Captain Angelton decided that he’d track the boy down and see if he remembered anything, or had a lead he could follow. Feeling better now that he had a path to follow, he stood up and started back towards his office.
-------
Nero walked into the library with a smile on his face. After getting an early breakfast, he had some time before his combat class for beginners. As he walked up to the front desk, he looked for the helpful guy he annoyed the last time he was here. Unfortunately, there was no sign of his favorite librarian. Nero wanted to ask for the sequel to “What you need to know now that you’ve awakened.” He was sure that whatever the guy said in response could be used to make the guy’s smile crack.
Putting thoughts of trolling people aside, he waited in line and walked up to an available librarian. “Hello, I need to return this book. I can still look at it through the link right? Oh, and can I use a link at any station, or do I need to register or something first?” He asked.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
“Any station is fine, the system will know if you have authorization for something. And all of our books are available while you are on Center property and are authorized for viewing. Is there anything I can help you find?” the librarian asked politely.
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks,” replied Nero as he walked off with a dismissive wave.
Looking around, he found a desk with a pad of paper on it and a small cup of pens. He sat down and connected to the station. There was a lot of information available; including options for searching for books, both through the link and hard copy. There were research journals available. Also news selections with current events and historical records. There were a lot of editorials, which were oddly listed under entertainment. A sports section had team fights, and singles for the Arena Center. There was something simply called ‘The Game’ championships in current events. Just going through the headers for all the different sections was more than he could handle. It all seemed familiar, but at the same time very different from what he was used to. Eventually he returned to his original purpose: magic.
The information there was just as overwhelming. There were sections on current research journals, and academic information from Center-point. Center-point was the mage college with schools in every major city. Looking up the requirements to get in showed that Mrs. Salvatore was understating what a person would need to get a scholarship there. ‘Typical elitist bullshit,’ he thought with a scowl.
At least it seems that the requirements are the same for everyone, but the nobles had a better chance of being able to pay for tuition. After all, they were rich. The average citizen would need to rely on scholarships. Luckily, the schools didn't seem to prioritize a person's background. ‘Ha! If you’re even related to a noble house, you’re ineligible for a scholarship,’ he noticed with a smile.
It looks like they take a lot of people who aren’t nobles, and have them work off the debt of education. After graduation they owe 50 years of service, that’s a lifetime commitment. Even here, that’s a big chunk of time. ‘Maybe that isn’t a lifetime commitment here. I still don’t know enough to say for sure,’ Nero thought.
Exiting back a few steps through the link, Nero looked for information on how to LEARN magic. There was a section on basic household magic, simple combat casting, lots of references on where to learn specific things. He needed to find a section for children. ‘This is humiliating,’ he thought while he searched.
Eventually he found the section for ‘introduction to magic’. Looking through the options for some simple hardcover books that he could get, a sense of the aisle and the titles were available in his head. Nero didn’t need to write anything down. ‘Neat. But then why do they even bother with stations for people to search for books? Can’t I just use the link as I walk around?’ Nero wondered to himself.
Getting up he walked through the library. Enjoying the tall shelves and general ambiance, he eventually found the area he was looking for. The books were all the exact same height and width. Every one of them clearly labeled along the spine. ‘It must be some rule they have to follow, that doesn’t happen on accident,’ he noted.
The mental directions, available through his link, led him right to the books he wanted. He figured he’d start with three books. The first was the textbook for his class that started next week, ‘Understanding the basics of Essence’. Next, ‘My first spell tome’, which was a small kids book with some basic elemental and household spells that he figured parents gave to their kids when they were in middle school. Lastly, ‘Dealing Damage at Distance: An introductory guide to magical combat’. The last book was meant for people who were already casters of some kind, but the title spoke to Nero. Once he figured out how to buy books, he was going to get a copy signed by the author. ‘What a great title!’ he thought.
While perusing the aisles for other magical books, his sense-of-time warned him to get moving. Sighing, he decided to go check out his selections at the front desk, then head off to his combat class.
The link was awesome, it gave him direction to wherever he wanted to go, and information on whatever he could think of. In fact, he had to actively choose to keep closing the connection because it was too easy to just leave it open and learn about whatever caught his eye. It was never in depth information, but general information was available for everything through the Center hub that was all around him. He could look at a painting and learn the name, subject, and artist just like he was walking around with an all knowing tour guide. He was going to have issues with his center if he kept using the link for everything.
Name
Nero Walker
Level
5
Race
Human
Growth
1%
Tier
1
Condition
100%
Age
14
Center
88%
Body
1
Mind
1
Soul
1
Confluence
10
Stars
1
Pillars
0/0
Nero had barely started his day, and he was already below 90% for his center. As he already had an idea on how to get to the combat class, which was on the other side of the courtyard, he closed his link and focused on his plan for the day. First, get his workout in, then lunch, then MAGIC. ‘All day, everyday!’ That was to be Nero’s motto. One day, he will be an immortal wizard in a traveling tower. He had read too many stories for that NOT to be his dream.
Arriving at a very large domed building with statues of warriors lining the walls. ‘Gee, I wonder if this is where they learn to fight?’ Nero thought as he chuckled at the obviousness of the building.
Inside, there were people everywhere. Some of them were in mail armor, some in regular clothes, others in combat robes. The place looked like a fantasy convention. He looked around and saw large information stations interspersed throughout the entry way. But, thanks to his link, he already knew where to go with a brief flash of blue from his temple. He still had about a half hour until class, but he figured being early couldn’t hurt. He had his small satchel filled with books if he got bored.
Walking up to a pair of doors that were open, he peeked in and saw a large combat area with racks of weapons and a meditation area off to the side. It looked like a very large martial arts studio, complete with great lighting, mats for falling, and even some potted plants for ambiance. There were a few newly awakened kids off in the meditation area, and Nero assumed the guy doing a sword form in the middle of the combat area was the instructor.
The guy looked maybe 25, had short blond hair and reminded Nero of those guys who were martial artists in strip malls. ‘I guess it’s true everywhere: If you can’t do… teach,’ he noted with a chuckle.
The more Nero thought about it, the less he was surprised. Why did he expect some uber-badass to be teaching a beginner combat class at the community center? Nero was really going to have to reign in his instinct to screw with the man. The poor guy was just doing his job, he didn’t sign up to get picked on by a kid whose ass he wasn’t allowed to kick. The instructor was probably the butt of a lot of jokes from real warriors. He probably can’t stand up to them, but he could kick Nero’s ass. ‘Don’t poke this dude, you know how it will end,’ Nero reminded himself.
Patiently waiting for the instructor to finish his sword-dance thing, Nero stood at the edge of the mat and folded his hands. Eventually the guy finished and sheathed his sword into nothing at his hip, and then bowed to the wall. ‘Oh come on… how does this guy not expect to get made fun of when he does shit like that,’ he said to himself.
Nero did his best to not cringe, and said, “Hi, I’m Nero Walker. I signed up for this class as I have no idea how to fight, and the description said this is where I start?”
Looking over at Nero, the guy walked up calmly with his head held high. “Good Morning, My name is Lance Stamford, you may call me Teacher, or Mr. Stamford. We take our training seriously here, and I expect you to come dressed for combat in the future. For today you can just take off your outer robe and take it easy. Just follow along with the class, and you’ll pick everything up. If you have any questions, feel free to ask any of your seniors. Do you have any questions?”
‘Of course this fuck-stick is named Lance,’ thought Nero.
“No sir, I’ll try to be better prepared for class in the future,” Nero said.
Lance just nodded as if Nero’s response was only proper, then walked away to resume being a tool.
Nero went to the benches to drop off his satchel, robes, and boots in the corner. He sat down on a bench and started unclasping his boots, when he felt a presence at the door. Everyone in the room paused and looked over at the door.
Calmly looking around, in strode Captain Angelton. ‘Did he always feel like that?’ Nero wondered.
After visually inspecting the room, the Captain spotted Nero. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he gave Nero a nod and turned toward the instructor. His presence offered a stark contrast between a would-be warrior and an actual warrior. He stood in chain-mail with his blue tabard, still wearing his sword as if it were a part of him. Without moving his feet or offering a greeting, he simply locked eyes with the instructor and raised his hand toward Nero.
“I need that boy, I’ll bring him back before the classes end if time permits.” he said.
He then lowered his hand and waited for a response. Everyone was frozen, Nero still had his legs crossed and a boot half off.
“Um… Yes Sir. It’s good to meet you Sir. I am Lance Stamford, I was part of the Gate 7 monster elimination squad. If there is anything you need, I’m sure I can be a service. My background is in…” Lance stood up straight and started blathering.
The Captain turned while the instructor was still talking, and started walking toward Nero. “No. That’s fine. Continue what you were doing, I’m just here for the boy,” he said as he walked toward Nero.
Standing over him he said to Nero, “Come with me, I have some questions about the Merchant train raid.” He then noticed that Nero was frozen. “What’s the matter boy, just put your boots on and get up. I don’t have all day.”
While Nero was panicking, and unsuccessfully closing his boot clasps, Lance had walked over to the young adults on the meditation mats. He was explaining who the captain was, and how it was an honor to be in the presence of a great warrior. He then went into a story about his time ‘in the service’ and other nonsense. The kids were very impressed, and smiled as they listened to Lance’s drivel.
Nero finally stood up and collected his satchel.
Looking at the Captain, Nero was reminded why the man had intimidated him before. ‘The Dude is just big… I thought it was just because I was sitting down, but this guy is large, with a capital ‘L’,’ he thought.
Seeing that Nero was ready. The Captain turned toward the door. Nero noticed the captain’s movements were a little too smooth, the man was like a giant panther.
Over his shoulder, the captain said, “Come along, we’ll borrow a conference room.”
Nero nodded, and hurried to catch up. He didn’t want to waste this man’s time.