CHAPTER 2: Training Comences
Ester:
Rem is a great friend and a great teacher to get quick results, but when it comes to giving off days now and then, she is NOT your go-to person. Other than Mikey whom I now know Orlen is training under, just about anybody else would be better. I mean the first three days of training were cool, she’d show me a new spell, something simple like “heal” and I’d spend a few morns working on it before either getting it right or taking a break. But now the scorching tun is burning the plains like a killer rabbit on a grill, and surely you’d think that on a day this hot I would focus on some type of water-based magic where I swim around in a lake or something. But of course, nothing is ever that simple. Instead, the sizzling yellow orb that we call the Tun is burning above me, its glittering golden rays, reflecting off the pool of sweat now puddled at my feet, I think about asking Rem for a break but then I remember that she’s on her eighth set of the hardest version of the exercise I’m struggling with. The exercise itself is, in theory, simple I need to cut a piece of string. What makes it difficult is how far away I am, as well as the fact that this is an industrial-class rope used to tow small boats. Rem is currently trying to cut a rope that is about five times stronger from five times the distance, and seeing as I’m a hundred yards away that's a long distance to cut the rope from.
This exercise aims to work on my ice class magic, Rem like me is a spirit user which means that although our magic is stronger than your average chant spell, our “one-word spell” actually has an entire conversation before them, which means it takes a whole lot of getting used to. Spirits are kinda like tiny humans, who can sense emotion, so as well as being able to sense empathy from you (so they know you're a decent person), they also need to have a sense of respect for you, without a high amount of respect, you go through hellish conversations when using higher class magic. A normal spell would be heard and done in a matter of a word, however, the number of words depends on respect which is earned through mastery of spells. Right now that is not a strong point for me though I have learned a dozen new spells they have all been low or middle-class spells nothing high or extravagant that takes a lot of time. Until now that is. The magic I’ve been attempting for the past few morns is a more advanced form of ice magic known as “Icicle”, instead of shooting a barrage of icicles I am supposed to shoot “Ice Arrows”, and then, once I’ve got that part right, I’ll start attempting, and most likely failing, to shoot “Ice Spears.”
Rem wasn’t like Orlen and I who had grown up in a caring environment, and because of this she cared the most. Whenever Orlen and I were with her, back when we were young, we would get hit with a never-ending barrage of “Are you okay?”, “Are you certain”, “I’m so sorry”, and “Get well soon.” She truly is kind and Orlen and I know it, but her current character is cold and distant, she’s been this way ever since Mer had died. Mer was Rem’s twin brother, they had grown up in the streets, abandoned with nothing more than their names. Yet no matter how often they’d get kicked around or insulted or kicked out, Mer could always lighten the mood, and his kindness had rubbed off on his sister.
Two years ago Mer lost his life, and although he was smiling as he said his last words and told Rem he loved her and that it wasn’t her fault. Rem still thinks it was, see Mer died protecting Orlen and me whom Rem had been tasked with protecting, so now Rem thinks if she had been a better guardian her brother would have lived.
“Ester. Snap out of it, you need to be alert or your actions will become sloppy!” Rem’s mook told me that she wasn’t mad and that she only yelled to gain my attention.
Rem was a wolf-type demi-human and like me came from Rectar. Rectar was the land of Demi-humans which, since the last great war, has become a self-sufficient, locked-in, dictatorship. I was born in Rectar and though I had only lived the first few years of my life there, I could not relate to the terror Rem and Mer must have felt as they fled the kingdom. My parents had paid their entire life savings to have us escorted out of the kingdom.
I was a lizard-type demi-human, at least that’s what I told most people. The only thing that differed between each type was our tails, ears, and padded skin, as well as our animal magic.
Animal magic is a type of magic that allows for an upgraded feature of an animal to be used. For example, a wolf-type demi-human would have wolf magic. This means that they would have something like super hearing, or that they perform better under a full moon.
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After spending all twelve morns honing my ice-type magic I could finally make spears, and the spirits were finally gaining a little respect for me, in fact during the first silver of night the fire spirits around me lit a fire to save me from using more magic.
I’d always been out of focus around strangers but here with Rem, I was as sharp as the shadow blade I held in my left hand, an intricate series of elven designs running around its hilt, a purple hue engulfed the tip of the blade which Rem held.
“How come you’ve imbued your blade, I thought we were taking on goblins and they’re recommended for level twenty adventurers which is far below your level. I’d think you could take them on without a blade at all.”
“You're the one fighting the goblins, I’m fighting their upper forms” responded Rem with a tear forming in her eye.
Orlen and I were only ten at the time, a pair of weaklings with no magic attempting to learn the way of a blade under the guidance of B-rank adventurers.
“Hey Orlen, how come you aren’t attending the youth arcane academy? You could learn the basics of magic and learn to use a little magic by the age of thirteen.” Mer’s question was something that many adults in Azgard village had asked Orlen, and by now he’d memorized his response.
“I want to get some real action before I enroll as a first year in Arcane Acadamy at age twenty, after all, there’s no better way to get stronger than fighting. And either way, I think I want to…”
Orlen’s speech was cut off by an ambush of Hob-goblins. They were a more intelligent version of goblins wearing clothing instead of loincloth, and handling swords rather than sticks and stones.
But Hobgoblins weren’t supposed to be found in this forest, after all, higher-level monsters would either reside in dungeons or ruined structures which are typically found along barren or old roads.
And while a B-rank adventurer could take on one or two hobgoblins with relative ease. Rem, Mer, Orlen, and I were now surrounded by a group of eight hobgoblins which could surely inflict fatal wounds on Orlen and me and would injure Rem and Mer.
A goblin stood before me wearing nothing but a loincloth and the green-gray skin it was born with. It was an ugly thing with its eyes on either side of its head, shaggy hair, and rotten yellow teeth, not to mention the horrid smell emitted from the vile creature.
It was about four and a half feet tall and handled a wood stick in its right hand and a sharp stone in it’s left. However, those weren’t the weapons to watch out for, instead, their true weapons were their teeth and claws which, luckily, they only used as a last resort.
With Rem roosting high above in an oak tree, ready to pounce if needed, I felt confident that I could beat this goblin and a hundred more like it, which is necessary to level up now that I’d reached the 30-Block.
The 30-Block is a term used to describe the difficulty of getting past level thirty, adventurers who wish to continue growing their skills past this level need to fight stronger monsters and from now on, every ten levels, monsters that once gave you a point of experience will give you none, and monsters which gave two now give one.
Since I last saw goblins they seem to have grown stronger, but the same can be said with any monster compared to around a decade ago, this is due to the increase in a toxic magicule (magic-imbued particle) called miasma.
Even though the miasma has been increasing since I was thirteen or so it hasn’t been in the paper articles for the last five years, and the planetary magic science committee hasn’t found a thing about how to slow it down or why it's happening.
This is one of the few reasons why I wish to attend Arcane Academy, this and the fact that Orlen’s going.
The goblin seemed to be level ten to fifteen meaning that it was an easy target for me, however, looks can be deceiving, and without an appraisal skill, it’s hard to tell.
As I analyzed the goblin it moved closer, rapidly gaining speed, but I hadn’t been training for no reason. An Ice spear half the length of the monster exploded toward the goblin, but the goblin had keen senses and managed to jump at the last second, causing the spear to strike it’s lower abdomen rather than its head.
“Darn, that thing is as fast as a military steed, and it’s sharp too,” I muttered under my breath so as not to alert Rem. Now that it was injured it fell to the ground, a spray of mauve liquid sprayed across me as I sent two more spears hurtling into the thing’s head and heart.
“Great hunting Ester! I reckon you could take a few hobgoblins” Rem’s lips curled upwards slightly as she said this, but then as she looked at the goblin her face fell back to a frown.
“Thanks Rem, where to now?”
“Keep going further, let's try to find a goblin nest.” I could hear her voice, ricocheting off of the tall oak trees, the rich bushy brown surrounding me.
“Alright, but which way?” I realized my voice sounded odd, almost nervous, though I had no clue as to why.
“Just ahead, ask the spirits around you to put up surveillance, and if you can’t it’s back to training in the sun.” Rem spoke harshly and stoically but I knew why. After all, nobody can just forget something so important.