“Sure, Classes and shit can snag ya unlimited power and all that-- but using your life experiences to become a better person? That’s real hardcore shit man. Badass and much too difficult.”
-Steve the Philosopher, level 42 [Wise Bandit]
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Across from her, a large two-leg in a metal shell yelled at them. Nevasca did not like it. Impending violence had a scent, and it filled the air now. Normally, this would be fine, exciting even. Unfortunately, her two-leg had not replaced his shell from yesterday or the odd talons he usually attached to his forelegs. He would have to fight with the pads of his paws. It was less than ideal. Not impossible, of course. Nevasca herself had to fight with her paws. For some reason her talons had never grown in and she had two sets of paws instead. It made grasping her prey difficult.
Next to the enemy two-leg, a massive beast struck at the ground with its hooves. Sparks flew from each strike. Heat rose from its skin, warping the air around it. Nevasca hissed at it, showing off her long fangs. She could recognize a threat when she saw it. This beast meant to kill them.
Fury rose in her, blazing with a heat that would put the beast’s mild smoldering to shame. A prey animal dared to threaten her precious two-leg, in broad daylight, on her turf?! Such behavior would not be tolerated.
Her two-leg would have to fend off the other two-leg as long as he could. She would rush to help him as soon as she taught the large, overly muscled beast what it meant to cross her. The sky would fall before she let that brute anywhere near her two-leg. It was much too dangerous for him to fight it. He was too fragile.
Threats like this had to be dealt with. Fast. After yesterday, she-
Nevasca’s ears laid flat even thinking of the incident. It was humiliating. She had been helpless against the green-skinned two-leg. Hers had almost died. He sent her away to protect her. It was her job to protect him! She would not stand for such blatant disrespect and disregard. She couldn’t-
The hooved monstrosity staring her down let out a snort, igniting the air with its breath. She hissed at it again, shifting her focus from the hard to process emotions welling up inside her. Play fighting with the horned two-leg with the big shell last night had done little to relieve her stress. What she needed was to rend flesh from bone and to defeat a true enemy. More than that, she needed to prove herself.
She whipped her tail, using her species’ telltale Skill [Razorfeathers] to cut the very stone they walked on. The display was meant to show her foolish prey just how stupid it was. Judging from its blank eyes filled with nothing but red fury, it was too thoughtless to even comprehend the simple message. Pathetic. Truly, it was in need of a harsh lesson. Deep inside her, her instincts screamed at her to leap into the air, spread her wings, and bleed the beast to weaken it. With her tail clad in razor sharp feathers, claws for tearing, talons for grasping, and a beak to pierce with, she should dominate the skies.
Should.
Not yet, but soon. Nevasca had not met any others of her kind, but she assumed that their development was a molting process. Her wings would grow in any day now, as soon as she grew out of being an adolescent. She supposed her beak and talons would come in at the same time. It might feel odd to lose her paws and muzzle, but if that was the way of her people, who was she to complain? As long as her As long as her wings came soon, she would be happy. They were a key part of her plans for the future.
Her focus snapped back into the moment as the smell of impending violence thickened. She could smell the blood of her foe’s raise to the surface of their skin as they tensed. Any moment now…
The yelling two-leg began to grow in size until it towered over her two-leg. It was almost twice his height and huge. Nevasca snarled in frustration. Her eyes darted back and forth, trying to judge which enemy was the larger threat. It had been so easy to judge when one was clearly bigger than other. Now, the two-legged one seemed just as dangerous. One of their two foes had to be the greater threat. She would find out which one it was and remove its ability to hurt her two-leg, or she would die trying.
Her two-leg rested his paw on her shoulder, seeking reassurance. She pushed her feelings to him through their bond, promising to protect him. It was something she was eager to do. Redemption would be hers. She looked to him. His eyes were locked on the towering two-leg. That confirmed it. She would allow him to fight that one. He was clever for a pet, so she trusted he would leave the stronger opponent to her. Her foe would be the four legged prey. Besides, everyone knew that if it stood on four legs, it was more dangerous.
As her two-leg sprang into motion, Nevasca made a promise to herself. Today would be different than yesterday. It had to be. She was a much better [Razortail Griffon] today than she had been. That was a fact. The world inside her told her so.
With a mighty roar, the enemy attacked.
Pushing forward with all the might packed into her legs, built to launch her into the sky, Nevasca leapt to intercept her charging prey. It lowered its head to gore her with a horn, but she was too quick and clever for such a ploy. She planted her feet and launched into the air, twisting to avoid the attack. Her tail acted like a rudder in the air, counterbalancing her so that she could maneuver.
Nevasca landed on it. With cruel intent, she dug her claws into its broad back, ripping into whatever she touched. Its skin burned her paws, causing them to blister. Such a small pain was not enough to stop her.
She wrapped he tail around its neck and flexed. Her razor sharp feathers cut deep into the bull’s thick, tough skin with every movement. If Nevasca had her way, she would saw its head clean off.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her two-leg leap toward his own opponent. She gave him a mental nod, pleased that he was adopting the ways of her people and starting on the path of sky dominion. It was about time, considering how often she caught him just staring into the clouds.
With a mighty bellow, the bull slammed into the side of a brick building in an attempt to dislodge Nevasca from her perch. Using her tail as an anchor, she scrambled to the opposite side of its body. She tore at it, ripping through skin to gouge muscle and sinew, with each step.
Bellowing in pain, it twisted its neck and tossed its head at her to catch her with its horns. The tip of one of its bright orange horns grazed her fur, igniting it.
Nevasca hissed in agony, but did not loosen her grip. She lashed out with her claws, aiming at her foe’s face. Her claws dug furrows into its skin but missed its eye. The bull bellowed again, repeating its strategy of running into walls. Falling rubble hit her, hard. It drove the breath from her lungs and sent shooting pain through her shoulder and spine. Thankfully, the dust suffocated the smoldering flames in her fur. A harsh trade, but fair.
As she sank her teeth into the surprisingly sweet and tender flesh of her adversary, Nevasca caught sight of her two-leg soaring through the air once again. His form was awful, but she appreciated the effort. Spinning head over heels like that would never be as effective as using wings. Still, a glimmer of pride bloomed in her chest. She vowed to start trying harder to grow her wings once this was all over.
Sky domination would be theirs, and no one would take her two-leg away from her. No one.
***
Snowflake feinted left, then dashed right. Each step he made was with the full force of [Explosive Movement] propelling him forward. His tendons creaked and clicked as they strained to keep his muscles attached to his bones. The bones in question ached as they fought to stay intact under the pressure. Snowflake could not afford to slow.
A bullet pierced the ground next to him with a sharp crack. Shards of rock flew from the point of impact, lacerating Snowflake’s skin. Then, he closed the gap.
Robert lowered his hand-gun and raised his fists. He lashed out toward Snowflake with a tight series of punches, taking full advantage of his gigantic reach. Snowflake ducked and weaved to the best of his ability, dancing away from the blows with the footwork Honey had taught him. It was enough to avoid being impaled on Robert’s spear-like spiked gauntlets, but not enough to avoid being clipped by his fists, which were almost as large as Snowflake’s torso.
[Savage Defense] activated, softening the force of the kinetic energy travelling through Snowflake’s body and returning some back to Robert. On instinct, Snowflake tried to absorb the kinetic energy into his core, turning it back to usable Source. He converted a trickle of it. The rest sent him tumbling to the ground a good five feet away.
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Robert covered the distance in a single, short step. He raised his fist into the air and brought it down in an overhead strike with edge of his clenched fist facing down.
“[Hammerhand]!”
Snowflake was on his feet and dashing forward before the blow landed. His footsteps were small craters of cracked stone. The ground quaked from Robert’s blow and a billowing cloud of dust rose in a misshapen cloud. Snowflake pushed through it, cycling chemical energy through his body out of habit; a habit built by weeks of constant, ruthless training.
The [Mark of the Jotunn] burned on his face. He paid it no mind. It was one of many such discomforts. Unbeknownst to him, something in him began to shift. His chemical energy began to flow in a pattern inside him, not too dissimilar from how [Rapid Recovery] used to.
Through the dust cloud, Snowflake caught glimpse of a dark shape. He planted his left foot, pivoting to snap his right leg forward into a perfect low-kick, beyond what [Unarmed Combat: Basic] could guide him through. Something snapped in his pivot foot as all the momentum from his mad dash transferred through it toward his kick. He powered through, landing the kick on the outside of Robert’s armored ankle with his shin. Metal crumpled under the force of the blow as [Savage Defense] registered the impact as an attack, softening the impact enough to spare Snowflake’s shin bones from shattering.
Pressing the advantage, Snowflake pivoted his weight onto his now planted kicking leg and used his left to land a mirrored low kick to the opposite side of Robert’s ankle. This time he unleashed a [Reverberating Strike] on impact. He could feel something give way inside Robert’s ankle.
Robert retaliated by kicking out with his now injured foot. The sheer magnitude of the man meant that each move was telegraphed far more than a fighter like Honey’s would be. That said, Robert was fast. Far too fast for someone his size. His steel clad boot glanced off of Snowflake’s hip.
As Snowflake was sent spinning to the ground once again, he considered that perhaps his close combat style was not well suited for fighting giants or their kin. He flung himself to the side as soon as he stopped tumbling, not bothering to stand up before vacating his landing place. Deep inside his Soulspace, [Tenacity] lit like beacon, devouring Source and pushing all thoughts of pain and failure from Snowflake’s mind.
With a series of quick, [Power Strike] enhanced blows, Snowflake struck at the stone lining the street. Acting quickly, he grabbed a chunk of stone as large as two of his fists. Without [Lesser Might] it was a struggle to lift the dense stone with the speed he required, but desperation and chemical energy made up the difference. He took two kinetic energy enhanced steps before heaving it at Robert, [Explosive Movement] enabling the throw as best it could.
The [Mark of the Jotunn] ached. Something inside him clicked. It felt right to be hurling boulders at his enemies.
“To think,” Robert said, pausing between words to smash the rock out of the air with an open palm. “That I thought you might have taken revenge on me by killing Raarik with your own hands. I see now that even through your little tricks, you would be far too weak to even harm my brother.”
The Flame inside Snowflake leaked black fury at those words. It threatened to overwhelm him. For a long moment, Snowflake was threatened to give into it. There was power in the Flame, he could feel it. Substantial power, more than a simple release of emotions. But instead, he laughed.
“You’re right!” He said, bouncing on the balls of his feet and preparing to close the distance once more. “I am weak. Honey has drilled it into me for weeks. I didn’t believe her at the time, but yesterday I came face to face with just how true it is. Hell, before that, you were the first person to really show me just how far I’ve fallen.”
Robert shook his head. Perhaps in pity, or perhaps disgust. Snowflake could not tell.
“And despite that lesson, you have continued to allow yourself to be used as a pawn by those stronger than you,” he said. “Now you will pay the ultimate price for your foolishness.”
Snowflake laughed again. This time, incredulous at the irony of Robert’s statement. The words stung—his mangled hand tingled with the phantom feeling of crushing goblin skulls with his mace—but the person delivering them undercut the hurt.
Out of the corner of his eye, Snowflake caught sight of Nevasca mauling Robert’s poor Soul-bound Companion. By the way she was gnawing at it, she had figured out where beef came from.
“Big words for a little man running Dave’s errands. Are you sure that your Unique Skill doesn’t inflate your opinion of yourself as well as your size?”
“Were you always this mouthy?” Robert said, through tight lips. “Or did you develop your wit to compensate for you lack of basic Spells? No [Bullet], no [Barrier] of any kind… Any fool can throw a punch, but even the most talentless Awakened can bend Source to their will.”
Snowflake nodded along. Robert was right. There was no use hiding from his weaknesses, especially if he was going to survive long enough to address them. Soon, he would have to figure out how to manipulate Source to summon Magic from his home world. To do that, he needed to start with mastering the basic transformations of energy. It was a hard task he had set for himself, but he would not shrink from it. Nor would he allow some misguided thug to stand in his way.
“I won’t lie,” Snowflake said, rolling his shoulder to see how far along he was toward healing the bullet wound in his shoulder. There was a small twinge of pain, but he could throw a punch now. What he needed to do was bring Robert to the ground and take away his reach advantage. “I sometimes wish I had spent my first few weeks here studying Source and learning Spells instead of learning to brawl. That said, I trust that my mentors had a reason for teaching me what they did.”
“Honey and Mordai?” Robert snorted in disbelief. “Everyone knows those two are frauds who stumbled into power through lucky Class consolidations and easy levels. Your loyalty to them has lead you to your death, at my hands. I hope it was worth it.”
Done speaking, Robert charged forward. His long stride ate the distance between them, despite the way he avoided putting weight on his left leg. Snowflake rushed to meet him. He had not forgotten Robert’s Skills from their first encounter and knew that he was not the only person stalling for time to heal.
Robert yelled a battle cry. Snowflake could just make out the words in his deep bass.
“[Flurry Blows], [Mirage Punch].”
Snowflake’s eyes widened as he watched Robert’s punch blur and multiply. One punch turned to two, turned to four, and then turned to six. They came crashing toward him like an avalanche of boulders. Boulders mounted with metal spears.
The words clicked. During their last ‘fight’, Robert had used [Mirage Punch] to throw a punch that Snowflake had blocked, but had still been hit with, somehow. After meeting Quinn, the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. It was a manipulation of light energy to create an illusion on a localized level. [Flurry Blows] was self-explanatory. There was no way to tell which of those punches was real, or how many.
“[Explosive Feint]!” Snowflake yelled in response. In an instant, all of his significant forward momentum halted. He froze in place. Several unseen strikes struck at the ground and air where he would have been if he continued forward or tried to dodge. The displaced air of their passing buffeted him, akin to a stiff breeze. Milliseconds later, the Skill wore off.
Snowflake burst forward, all of his forward momentum returned to him as if nothing happened. He sidestepped another punch, spinning on quick feet to maintain his pace. A sweeping hook almost took off his head, but Snowflake slid under it.
As he unleashed a Skill laden hook of his own to the inside knee of Robert’s uninjured knee, Snowflake reflected that weaving through a giant’s punches was not all that dissimilar to running the obstacle course.
Robert’s knee buckled under the force of the blow. He fell to a kneeling position. Snowflake unleashed a series of heavy body blows, hitting hard enough to make Robert spit blood. In this close, Robert struggled to land a solid hit on Snowflake. After weathering a series of additional strikes, Robert lunged forward, wrapping Snowflake in a large bear hug. He began to squeeze. Snowflake’s vision grew dark.
“Well fought,” Robert said, his voice rattling Snowflake’s bones from this close. “But this is the end.”
Snowflake did not respond. He could not breathe. Thankfully, he had managed to keep his arms up when he had been grabbed, so now he had his elbows pressing against Robert’s chainmail as the giant-kin tried to crush him against his chest. The rings of mail pressed into his skin, drawing blood. His bones creaked and fractured under the pressure of the larger man’s strength.
With an effort of will, Snowflake stopped healing and reinforcing himself with chemical energy. He gathered everything had left, draining his Core of Source. Under his direction, the Source flowed to his mangled hand. He prepare to convert it to kinetic energy. A [Power Strike] or [Reverberating Strike] would be useless here, because he could not strike. He would have to rely on his own skill and not one granted by the System.
His hand tingled as he prepared to lose it from the backlash. Just before he transformed the Source and pushed it against Robert’s chest, Snowflake had a thought. The world grew dim. He thought of his past life and his greatest triumphs against odds so much worse than this. The image of him wielding a sword of light came to mind. Then, he thought of Mordai wielding weapons of light just the night before. Light was energy and if a sword could be made out of energy…
Snowflake forced the Source into the rough shape of a sword, transforming it to kinetic energy and pushing it out of the palm of his hand. Robert cried out and everything went black.
When Snowflake opened his eyes, Nevasca was licking his face. She was covered in blood and radiated a mix of concern and pride. Feeling her concern, Snowflake jerked his head up, searching for Robert. The man laid near him, back to his normal size. Then it clicked, she was worried about him, not about some nearby danger.
Snowflake’s eyes caught motion. Robert was still moving. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Nevasca’s eyes flicked to where Snowflake was looking and she made to go that direction, her deadly intent clear by her lashing tail and bared fangs. Snowflake stopped her with a hand.
He rose to his feet, powering through the agony. With a painful series of steps, he limped to stand over Robert. He reached to his Core, finding that he had regained enough Source to activate a single Skill. Raising a hand, he clenched his fist and prepared to finish what the other man started.
Then, he hesitated. All of his life, his enemies had been clearly defined as evil. They were monsters, one and all, in the truest sense. But here, all he saw was a man who had lashed out over the death of his friend. Snowflake could understand that. He had been there.
With his fist raised, Snowflake made a choice. This was a cruel world with callous people in it. He felt used and naïve, lacking the security that power had once given him. With his Class and the Core, he could slaughter his way to the top, once again granting himself the power to be safe and confident but with his strength of fist instead of innate magical talent.
A cruel world demanded hard choices.
“Fuck this,” he said.
Snowflake’s hand fell with the surety of the setting sun, coming to rest at his side. He spoke again, addressing Robert’s unconscious form but speaking to himself.
“I might not know where I fit in this world, or who I am other than who I’ve been, but I’ll be damned before I keep letting the System and the people around me force me to be who or what they want me to be. I’m going to go get a fucking cloak and the rest of it can go to hell. Don’t come after me again.”
With that, he turned and walked away.