“Start.”

Between sparring with Kierra and the truly unfortunate number of troubles I stumble into, I’d like to say I have a lot of experience in combat. Am I a skilled fighter? There’s plenty of room to improve but I’m far from the worst. Better, I have a lot of experience fighting powerful fighters. The monsters of the world.

That experience tells me not to blink when I hear Orum speak. And it’s a good thing I don’t. In a fraction of that time, he’s in front of me, fist coming at my face. I don’t even think to deflect it, noting from his eyes that he moved that fast without using a scrap of magic. He’s got a body that’s at least as powerful as mine. Add on what I’m guessing is an impressive core and several decades of experience using it, the last thing I want to do is get into a contest of strength with him.

It’s not that I’m afraid of losing. I can’t lose. Especially if he’s not seriously trying to kill me. This isn’t about who wins or loses. Kierra talked to me as we were preparing for tonight, giving me a little insight into her father.

He doesn’t hates me, though I doubt he likes me. He sees it as his duty to make sure that the one that she’s chosen is worthy of her. And while we don’t need his approval, I want to ease his mind. I’m not going to do that by getting slapped around and standing back up. I need to show what I can do. Put every tidbit of skill I have on display.

I dodge the blow in the smallest margin I can, almost getting hit when the fist suddenly changes trajectory. I also dodge the follow up strike. The tiny limb of bone that grows from his waist, thin and I imagine sharp, is completely unexpected. Thankfully, it’s too weak to pierce my tough skin as I’m focused on countering. I let out an undignified yelp as he grabs my wrist, keeping me still as he kicks me full force in the chest, eyes glowing with mana. Without letting go of my wrist.

Pain. Incredible, mind-erasing pain. I barely register being launched backward and skipping across the ground. Saints damn it! The only thing that even comes close to this is the memory of being stabbed, and by close I mean not close at all.

My side is slick with blood, pouring liberally from the ragged wound of my shoulder where an arm used to be attached. It takes a few moments to move past the pain and transform. There’s a moment when I’m an ooze, free of pain, growing and writhing—

And then the next moment I’m me, whole and healthy.

I push to my feet and see Orum holding my arm, eyes still glowing. His eyes turn to me as he throws the arm away. “Your body is incredible. You are grossly underusing its potential. I imagine my daughter taught you to brawl?”

“Wasn’t much of a fighter before I met her,” I say through grit teeth, fighting the dread of facing him. At least with Kierra, the pain is a little sexy. Oh, who am I kidding? There’s nothing sexy about having a limb torn off, even if she’s the one doing it.

“Mm. Do you surrender?”

Maybe I should just ooze the man? Would that help? He’d be a speck, even if I compress myself to the limit. If he’s half as fast as his daughter, I’d be a clumsy bob waving my tentacles ineffectually as he dances around me. Studying me and how to take me apart. The thought makes my stomach clench. “You wish. Come on.”

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In less than a blink, he’s on me…and in the middle of a heatwave hot enough to make his skin blister as soon as he makes contact. He doesn’t even flinch. It’s the same blow, the exact same punch. But with ridiculous speed, half a dozen insectile limbs erupt from his back, glistening with I don’t want to know what, the ends sharp as daggers. Seven attacks, from different angles. Can’t dodge them. Can’t block them. Can’t—

Move!

I run forward, his fist snapping my head to the side but doing nothing to stop me from tackling him to the ground. I scream as six points of pain erupt in my back and channel all my rage into biting him in the neck, infusing a paralytic into my saliva.

In response, the bastard digs his limbs deeper. And that’s his mistake. Bastard shouldn’t have made this a competition of endurance. I pull on a form I haven’t used in a long time, mouth turning into a muzzle as I try to savage my opponent. My teeth slip off something hard when I go for his throat. What—is that bone?! He covered his whole—

My thoughts are cut off by Orum headbutting me. The pain in my back flares again as I’m lifted off him and thrown aside. I don’t have a choice. It’s exactly how I didn’t want this to go but he’s not making this easy. I transform twice, the pain disappears, and I’m back on my feet. Display of skill? What a joke. I’ve always been a bag of meat that doesn’t stay down and hits hard.

Whatever damage I managed to inflict on Orum is gone. He doesn’t even look drowsy after being hit with a big dose of a toxin that managed to overwhelm Kierra’s pure affinity. Granted, she’d already used up a lot of her mana by that time but still. At least have the decency to stumble.

I’m so outclassed.

“That was good, charging me.” His eyes are glowing with the most intensity I’ve ever seen. It’s almost like there are two tiny lamps behind his eyes. “Reckless, but better than freezing. Your poison is also very potent. Rather than ineffectually drooling on your opponents, you would be better served bottling it. If not to use in combat, then to sell. The clans would pay your weight in precious metal and gems for it.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I grumble. I really hope I can find a way not to hold this against him when it’s over. I hope, but I doubt it.

“Do you surrender?”

I should. “Do I look like I need to surrender?”

“Very well. Come at me.”

…I have to come at him?

Alright. Let’s see how you handle this.

I sprint forward and Orum raises his guard, patiently waiting for my attack. I’m gratified that his eyes widen just a little as I stop short and spin. There’s a weird strain in me somewhere I can’t name as I pull on the form of the leviathan, following my will and appearing mid-swing. It’s a whole lot of mass coming at him as fast as one of my punches. I don’t think it’ll kill him but, hopefully, Kierra’s paying—

Eh?

I…just felt resistance. The giant monster tentacle that could flatten multiple buildings, probably a saints damned hill, stops and falls to the ground. I dismiss the useless limb that would just weigh me down, revealing Orum. His guard is raised and his feet planted in a wide stance. There’s no trace of his green skin. His whole body is covered in a strange black growth that adds a significant bulk to his already large form.

“Your gift is remarkable.” The black growth around him shatters before falling to the ground. Reaching down, he grabs a piece of his shedding and holds it up. “The bones of a creature I hunted across the seas. Plant humanoids whose bark like skin eventually becomes so hard they can no longer move. They also have a technique of sprouting roots from their feet for stability. Your trick forced me to burn quite a bit of mana, but it was ultimately simple to counter.”

Is he…is he teaching me?

“Do you surrender?”

I really, really should.

But we’re bonding right now. I can feel it.

Or maybe I’m still feeling that headbutt despite my transformations.

Sigh.

Gathering my courage and consoling my crying ego, I rush him.