“What is a magic level?”
Riva could not believe what she was hearing. Her strange new companion, Azim, had no concept of magic levels, or what magic was, for that matter. As they rode down the trail towards the next town, she described to him the way magic worked in the land of Irvana. She explained how every living thing, whether sentient or not, had some degree of magical connection in their soul, and were capable of accessing magic through several outlets. Most people’s base magic level was about 5, yet even those who did not practice or were not skilled with magic were still considered level 1. This was because magic was tied to the soul, and as long as one had a soul, they had access to the endless pools of magic that flowed through the environment, no matter how untapped they might be to an individual. People who did practice most often honed their magic potency through Magicraft, and the arts that derived from elementary spells such as Fire, Anima, or Cosmic. Riva herself was considered base level 2, with level 3 Enchantment magic.
However it did not seem like Azim had any magic… at all. Not even level 1. Azim had explained to Riva that, as a robot, he did not have a soul and therefore magic would most likely not tie to him. This only made Riva more impressed because whatever the robot had done with that dig devil had been accomplished without any extrasensory assistance. Then again, it was not like one’s magic ability was the sole definition of one’s strength. There were plenty of stories of great wizards being bested by those who favored weapons or other tactics. But even then, those warriors always had some degree of connection…
As Riva was still talking, Azim turned to look ahead down the trail. He seemed focused. “How far away is the next town?” he inquired.
“About 35 more minutes. Why?”
“Because there is something up ahead,” Azim was vigilant, like a hunter eyeing down a blissfully unaware rabbit. “We appear to have company.”
It took a couple seconds for them to be within view, but soon Riva saw them. Raiders. Two carriages full of them. Riva felt the fear flood her body, clutching the reigns with shaking hands. There were 11 men total. The lot of them were covered in scars and burns, scraggly unkept hair, and dirt-covered clothes. Some carried swords, spears, and daggers, while others wore garments suggestive of magic users. There were three individuals among the group that stood out to Riva.
The first was riding one of the horses that dragged the carriages along. He wore a full face covering, save for eyes, and held a dagger in each hand. He had ring-shaped tattoos wrapped around his arms, which suggested some kind of Save Spell. The second was the only one who walked beside the carriages rather than riding in them. He appeared to be a Half-Giant, and sported heavy, leather-and-fur pants and a tattered, white shirt. He had, dragging behind him, a large sword which was clearly made from the tooth of some large beast. Finally, there was the third, who worried her the most. Sitting atop one of the carriages’ tarps was a Hawkling. A human-like species with the head of a bird and feathered wings that grew from its arms. This cocky brat looked no older than 18, but it was clear she was in charge of the group. Nothing about her initial impression seemed too intimidating, yet the demeanor she carried with her was enough to shake Riva’s confidence. As scared as she was, the woman realized she would’ve crossed them regardless going down this trail. The only difference was that now she had someone with her. Someone who could keep her safe… more than she might have realized.
“Azim, this is bad. Those are not good people. They will cause us trouble just for looking in their direction, and will most likely take my cart with them.”
“They do not sound like good people,” Azim replied, in a much too chipper tone. “I will politely ask them to leave.”
“What?! No! Azim, listen to me. You can’t just ‘politely ask’ your way out of every problem. I know this world is new to you, but you need to be careful. You don’t know your surroundings, and your base magic level is zero! All you need to do… is help me. Help me get past these people without incident. Okay?”
Azim nodded without a word and hopped off the carriage. Riva had no idea what he was doing. Like with the dig devil, Azim was calmly walking towards the approaching caravan. Upon the sight of the metal stranger, the raiders came to a halt. “What the hell is that thing?” one of them yelled out.
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Without giving Azim too much attention, the hawkling atop the carriage looked past and caught Riva’s gaze. “Well, look what we got here boys! A treasure trove of goodies waiting patiently for us, and a helpful deliverer to keep it safe until we arrive!”
The entire caravan erupted in conniving laughter. Their sinister cackles made Riva shiver. Azim was unmoving in the middle of the road between the two sides. Their laughter quickly turned to confusion as more of the raiders noticed the strange, statue-like figure. The one riding the horse leaped over its head and landed in front of the group, face to face with Azim. He stood with a hunched posture, looking up at the stiffly-stood robot. Raising a dagger to the metal man’s face, the raider asked, “And who might you be, stranger?”
“I am Azim, as of recently.”
“Recently? Ah, whatever. You look like you have some valuable shit on you. Why don’t you be so polite and hand it over?” The masked raider could not stop giggling maniacally.
Azim was calm. “I have been informed that you and your companions are not good people, and often resort to violence to meet your goals. I would like to ask that you seek a new life path.”
The dagger-wielder was stunned. He had not expected such a response. It was as is this figure before him did not have any concept of what kind of group they were. Above the caravan, the hawkling just watched with a jaded stare.
Regaining what little composure he could, the raider responded, “Y-Yeah? Well, why don’t we just put that to the test, huh?!”
He swung his raised dagger in a wide arc, attempting to decapitate the metal man in front of him. The raider took pride in being the fastest party member of his caravan, prioritizing his speed when enhancing his power. However Azim was faster. He bent backwards at a 45 degree angle, completely dodging the incoming blade. Acknowledging his miss, the masked raider spun around and came in with his other blade in a reverse grip, hoping to stab his opponent with a backhanded strike. Instead, he was met with air, as the robot crouched and ducked the blade. In an instant, the raider found himself 25 meters away from everyone else, with his face planted into the dirt of the adjacent grass fields. The morning dew was only starting to evaporate, and the rainy smell was still lingering. Any normal person would have found laying in those fields to be like living out a dream. However, a crazed raider was not the type to enjoy such simple pleasures, especially not after having just been effectively catapulted by the force of a stranger’s palms against his back.
Riva turned to look from the humiliated, masked man to the rest of the group and had to stifle a laugh. Panning across all the raiders faces, all that could be seen were dumbfounded stares and on-the-floor jaws. It took a couple seconds, but the clearly-fodder raiders soon jumped off their carts and rushed to take down their brazen target. The only ones that stayed behind were the other two that Riva had noted. “Look out, Azim!” she cried.
Azim turned around to see himself surrounded. The men encompassing him were all shouting over each other, clearly more worried about their own opinions being stated than if they would actually be heard. Some were flailing swords around wildly, others were making obscene gestures towards the statue-man. The raiders had just finished a job only an hour ago, so the lot of them were already riding high. They saw this as a dessert course of entertainment, one they could not wait to devour. Unfortunately, hardly any of them would even get to take a bite.
As the men started charging Azim, he put up his arms in a guarded stance. The first raider to reach him slashed an axe directly towards his face. The contact that the raider expected to make was much different than what actually occurred. Instead of chopping the robot’s head off, Azim had caught the man’s weapon with one hand, stopping its trajectory. He ripped it out of the raider’s grasp and kicked the man to the ground.
One by one, the raiders charged at the defensive robot, and one by one, they fell. Azim moved with surprising grace, his steely arms whirring and spinning at blurring speeds. He would block sword strikes, counter with the acquired axe, pick up his enemies’ weapons and toss them right back. The robot never moved from his position, only blocking and attacking with his arms, and spinning on his pelvic axel rod. Even from one spot, Azim was able to fend off his attackers from every direction. Some started to throw balls of intense flame at the metal man, which finally moved him from his spot. He ducked and dodged the bursts of flames and ice and lightning that came his way, never letting a single hit touch him.
The ongoing swarm of men slowed down as more and more raiders started to notice that the metal stranger attacking them… was not actually attacking them.
The entire fight, the figure stayed in a defensive position, only offering counter blows and return strikes but never advancing itself or striking more than what was needed to knock a raider to the ground. There was something about this moving statue’s actions, something about how precise and diligent they were, yet careful and selective, that was unnerving to the men. They were so used to adversaries coming at them with everything they had (or cowering in terror), that someone simply swatting them away when they got too close, like flies to a piece of meat, instilled them with a fear of their own. Keeping cautious, two the men in the group, who happened to both be wearing magic-enhancing gloves, each clasped one of their hands together. With their free appendage, they cast a spell in unison, creating a giant ball of light between their partnering hands. Keeping their distance, they were going to end this metallic nobody with one blow.
Then came something the robot was not expecting. A dagger, flying in from seemingly nowhere, struck one of the two raiders casting the spell. The man let out a grizzled cough as blood spat up from his mouth, and started to fall backwards.
Before Azim could process the situation, a flash of light emanated from the blade’s location. Only a second later, the man he had thrown moments ago was standing before him once again, pulling the thrown dagger out of his companion’s chest. “Everybody back the hell off! If any of you lay a finger on this guy, I’ll kill you before he does!” The masked raider’s head slowly turned to gaze at the robot. “This freak… is mine.”