Fionn, now

Fomorians.

Now, there was a term he hadn’t heard in a long time. It was an old story, much older than even himself. One that even he had believed to only exist in the realm of myth and legend, despite having lived in an age of wonders, and himself having been considered similarly fictional up until quite recently.

An idea so old, it had passed out of living memory even for the Fae, remaining the distant darkness looming in their own legends. At least as far as he had been able to glean in the few times he’d encountered them, and it hadn’t escalated to a fight to the death.

That … that was very, very bad.

The Tuatha de Dannan, the oldest and most powerful beings to ever walk the soil of Ireland, had left the “Four Fabulous Cities” of Falias, Gorias, Murias, and Finias, bringing their great treasures with them and very nearly lost.

On the other hand, it seemed as though at least the Fomorian Arthur had encountered had been within his ability to defeat … sort of. Something about Earth had finished it off, something about stepping through that breach in the barrier had killed it, but before that, it had been hurt. Not by much, not to the point where the English ancient was likely to have won, but at least it was not some unstoppable juggernaut possessing absolute might and an indomitable constitution.

And that was something to take heart from.

If it can bleed, it can die. Even gods have fallen.

Arthur might have gone to Glastonbury Tor with a head full of steam, ready to pick a fight with the entirety of the Fae army if that was necessary, but he’d come back with vital information.

A metallic grinding sound rang out for the third time since they’d sat down in the hotel’s conference room, shielded by both his own spells and Tristan’s Skills from eavesdropping. The first time that had happened, they’d all jumped to their feet and prepared to face whatever was coming, but as it turned out, nothing was wrong. Well, other than the fact that that table would have to be replaced now …

Still, that sound had a now-known and entirely benign source. It was simply Excalibur straightening itself out. By now, it had already largely reclaimed its former shape, still too bent to fit in its sheath but at least it no longer looked like it would fall apart if it was used to cut so much as a single blade of grass.

“I still want to know why that thing died,” Arthur insisted. “Is it a weakness to be exploited, or luck I should not count on repeating itself?”

Fionn noticed Tristan throw him a knowing look, clearly having recalled their earlier conversation.

“I think even if another Fomorian somehow manages to get through that barrier, it will meet the same fate,” Fionn said, after a couple of seconds. “The one you encountered used Skills, didn’t it?”

Arthur shrugged. “Didn’t think about that at the time, but those powers could have been Skills, I suppose. Why?”

“Because as far as I know, anything empowered by the System will lose all abilities in an area without it, and if any of those abilities are intrinsically linked to your body’s normal function, that could be fatal.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t we use the System?” Arthur replied, testily.

“We’re still in the initialization phase,” Tristan broke into the conversation. “And we will only be ‘opened to the enlightened universe’ after that. The barrier might be a form of initial protection, or …”

“Or it could be there to prevent the monsters outside from walking into areas that kill them simply because they entered,” Arthur noted. “We’re safe for now, but we need to get stronger before this year of chaos comes to an end.”

He stroked his chin for a couple of seconds, then fixed Tristan with a … curious, perhaps? look. “Allies wouldn’t go amiss either.”

Then, he finally looked at Fionn.

“And I believe we should start training properly. Not just hunting monsters, but against each other.”

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“Well, if you do, then make sure to write ‘we’re just training’ in the dirt nearby, big enough that surveillance satellites can see it,” Tristan commented as he rose to his feet. “The last thing we need is people thinking their defenders are busier killing each other than protecting them. Anyway, I’m off to tell everyone else about what we have to look forward to if we survive the System’s challenges. Need anything else before I go?”

“No, thank you,” Fionn said as the young man summoned a portal and vanished through it.

Then, he turned back to Arthur and fixed him with a measuring look.

“So, a spar. Where are we going to set the limits?”

***

Fionn’s spear deflected his opponent’s sword into the ground, then whipped around to slam into the side of Arthur’s head, but the former monarch launched himself backwards with enough force to crater the dirt underfoot, but in the place where he’d land, an [Earthen Spire] was already rising … only to be obliterated by a [Grand Slash], along with a substantial portion of the ground. The very spot Arthur had meant to land on.

Fionn sent a [Powerful Gust] after him, turning a salvageable misstep into an awkward tumble that ended with his opponent on his rear, unable to defend himself for a split second, and that was all that was needed. He launched himself after Arthur, rotating the spear so the blunt end was aiming at his chest, only for the man’s sword to slam into his spear with even greater power than before shear through, slam into a stone in the dirt … and break. Shatter, actually.

A second wind spell ensured Fionn didn’t land, feet first, on Arthur and then asked “Break so we can replace our weapons?”

Arthur nodded as he rose to his feet, powdery dirt shifting underfoot. Together, the pair of them walked over to the crate they’d set off to the side before they ever started fighting.

It had been filled to the brim with the strongest weapons they could find that lacked overly dangerous enchantments and weren’t irreplaceable.

Had. Been.

They’d broken almost half the weapons they’d arrived with already, and barring something happening, they wouldn’t be leaving until there wasn’t a single weapon remaining.

This time, Fionn grabbed a simple sword and a tower shield, a defensive combination he was unlikely to use in a real fight but one he figured he’d try, so he could see how well hiding behind a shield to unleash as many spells as possible would work. Because wasn’t that why they were here? To train?

Arthur, meanwhile, had picked out yet another arming sword that looked to be comparable to Excalibur in length, weight, and all other attributes save sheer deadliness.

Fionn decided not to comment, however, if he were in the king’s place, he doubted he would be using anything other than a functionally indestructible, near-unstoppable, sword of legend.

Though this time, Arthur seemed to have decided to try wielding a dagger comparable to his magical one in his offhand. That would be … interesting.

***

Arthur

The world around him vanished in a blaze of magic, only for his [Resergent Strike] to blast all of it apart.

Sadly, his opponent hadn’t been close enough to be reached … and Fionn’d also accounted for his Skill being able to rip apart the first wave of spells, because a second wave of spells came crashing down at just that moment.

Between him restricting the power boost from [One Man Army] and his other strengthening Skills and Fionn limiting himself to his weaker spells, Arthur was coming up short, he felt. At full power, he might, at least theoretically, have been able to blast his way even through the Irishman’s stronger spells, but as it was, the barrage of lesser attacks was still enough to tie him down.

For every step he managed to advance, the wind managed to push him back two, heels digging through the grass now slick with all the water spells that had been a part of that barrage.

Not even the Skills he’d gained for his new Class were particularly useful.

[The Lonely Road] was barely helping, the Skill that was supposed to let him advance in the face of all adversity through sheer force of will, as long as his will didn’t falter, he could keep going, yet “going” wasn’t the problem, going forward was.

And [One Against the World], well, it told him all about what surrounded him, and warned him off attacks outside his field of view, even when they originated from outside the area he was directly shown by the Skill. But “it’s raining on you, and there’s a strong wind blowing from the front” wasn’t something he needed magic to tell him.

His big attacks were on cooldown, using his boosting Skills to a higher degree would have just proven that he could only win with raw power. No, there had to be a way around that …

That was when [One Against the World] did start helping.

“Stop,” he yelled at Fionn while sheathing his own weapons, which the Irishman immediately did, though before Arthur could explain, he noticed what was wrong on his own.

They’d attracted spectators. They were still at a safe distance, but getting closer. Arthur sighed, and started walking in their direction, with Fionn falling into step with him.

“Gentlemen, this a dangerous area, please stay back,” he announced in his best “royal order” voice.

“Hey, we were fine over here,” the man in the front replied.

“You were getting closer,” Arthur pointed out.

“No, we weren’t,” the first man claimed even as a second immediately contradicted him with “We couldn’t get a good video from back there.”

Arthur could tell Fionn wasn’t being smug or grinning beside him, but he definitely got the impression the mage was quite glad not to be the one dealing with the group of, in modern parlance, “looky-loos.”

… Five minutes later, there were even more people there, and the area they could fight in without risking lives was ever shrinking. In the end, they wound up leaving. These modern folks … no respect for danger or authority, none at all! Were those stupid phones of theirs actually damaging their user’s intelligence?