CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Squires and Novices
----------------------------------------
“Power Strike!” Chris roared.
He swung his bastion-forged steel sword down at the beast with all the strength his right arm could muster—and he hit nothing but air. This beast—a wolpertinger twice the size of a large hare—flapped its wings and flew into the thick canopy of leaves above before Chris’ strike could land.
ALERT! You have failed to cast [Power Strike]!
“It didn’t work y’all!”
Observing from nearby, Bram thought Chris’ failure was a foreseeable outcome. In his eyes, the attack, though executed as if the Texan was a natural at swordplay, had fumbled in its final step—the harnessing of magic to fuel his sorcery. Without it, the result was a clumsy attack that the wolpertinger could dodge with the barest of effort.
“I got the steps down like the Loom gave it, but the darn thing just—”
The wolpertinger dove down headfirst, its sharp antlers aimed at the Texan’s head.
“Aw, shit!” Chris cursed.
He raised his kite shield high in time to block the furry beast’s antlers from skewering his face, though the impact of the wolpertinger’s dive held such force that it pushed the larger man back a step or two.
“This goddamned rabbit’s…a tough fella!” Chris complained, sounding a little out of breath.
“Chris!” Bridget yelled. “Duck!”
While the Texan did as she asked, Bridget pulled her bowstring taut.
“Let all dark things be pierced by light…” she chanted under her breath.
Brilliant golden sparks flared to life at the tip of the arrow notched to her short bow.
“Fiery Arrow!”
She let the arrow loose, and it flew across the forest floor to pierce into the wolpertinger’s thick hide, causing the fur on its hindquarters to burst into flames.
“Yes!” Bridget whooped.
The beast let loose an indignant screech of pain that was quickly silenced by Chris swinging his sword down on the distracted wolpertinger at a spot right behind its long ears. It was a well-timed strike that sent the beast crashing into the forest floor where it lay dazed and unable to dodge the blade that stabbed its chest a second later.
You have slain a [Wolpertinger]!
“Doing it normally…gets the job done too,” Chris said, sounding breathless.
From ten paces behind him, Bridget raised a fist. “Nice teamwork!”
Since he was still trying to catch his breath, Chris’ only response was a thumbs up.
“You alright?” Bridget asked.
“Fatigue’s a little”—he raised his hand above his head—“up there…”
“That’s because you keep yelling at the top of your lungs,” she teased. “You don’t have to call out your spell’s name, you know?”
Chris straightened and stretched his back before replying, “It’s not that…it’s this place. It feels too real… Besides, y’all do it too.”
“That’s because it is real. We’re not inside a game,” Bridget reminded him. “And yeah, I yell it out too. Invoking the spell helps me concentrate.”
“Good for you… It hasn’t helped me one bit,” Chris sighed.
“You can try again”—with this encouragement, Bram trained the light of the sunstone in his hand at a nearby bush—“on that one.”
It stepped out of the shadows creeping at the edge of their vision and into the spotlight, a gray-furred beast whose red eyes shone with rabid hunger. Antlers protruded from a hare’s head, while a thick canine musculature rippled underneath bristling fur.
Written in bright yellow on the nametag that briefly appeared over the beast’s head was [Wolpertinger].
“At least it ain’t orange anymore,” Chris said.
From what the party’s learned of the Loom’s combat system—one that had only become available after they’d set out on their adventure—they now knew that a yellow tag meant caution instead of the danger that an orange tag foretold.
“Don’t get smug… It still takes two of us to kill one of them,” Bridget warned.
“I know…” Chris raised his shield. “But we’ve got this.”
Bridget notched an arrow to her bow. “Yes, we do.”
Bram, who remained a bystander throughout this encounter, watched with a smile as Chris and Bridget stood their ground against a beast that had the strength to kill even trained soldiers of the Leyen barony. It was proof that these two otherworlders had improved greatly in the six days since their party entered the Red Forest.
Six days…considering the massive size of the woodland realm, this was a quick pace of travel made possible only thanks to the ‘Waypoint’ that the Coven of Stargazers had established at certain locations of the forest during their failed expedition ten months ago. Each waypoint contained a ‘Door of Dimensions’—a powerful spell of the summoning arts that connected two points of varying distance—transporting Bram’s party from one waypoint to another, allowing them to reach the Red Forest’s western half in record time. The only drawback was that Bram had to leave Renfri and the other harts behind in the Stargazers’ stables because the magic the expedition had used for their spell hadn’t been calibrated to allow non-humans to travel through.
Moreover, these six days were a heavy price to pay. With conflict brewing on the horizon, time was a luxury Bram had little of. He hadn’t forgotten the deadline given to him by the Sovereign’s court for improving the Kingdom of Lotharin’s condition. Despite his misgivings though, Atlan’s seventh prince recognized the merits of accepting the very first quest the Loom had given them on Ravi Samal’s behalf. For with a show of competence, he would earn the loyalty of a coven capable enough to produce a ‘Door of Dimensions’ whose magic hadn’t withered even after months of neglect.
“Power Strike!” Chris roared.
This quest also provided Bram and Rowan with the perfect opportunity to train their new companions in Aarde’s ways of combat. However, it was clear from the way Chris flailed around that there was still much room for improvement.
“Goddamn it!” the Texan cursed. “I still can’t get this spell to work!”
Perhaps I should bring out the lute, Bram thought, and inspire Chris with a song…?
Itchy fingers rose to grasp the harness of the lute strapped to his back, but they withdrew just as quickly.
Yes, he’d brought his lute with him, but he only used it during nights when they camped underneath the forest’s red canopy. Bram wasn’t a bard on this adventure, and he’d been trained well enough not to forget that committing to an act was the key to a successful disguise.
Besides, there were other ways to encourage Chris.
From his observations of the Texan’s fight, Bram deduced that the squire’s failure to wield sorcery had nothing to do with his swordplay. Chris’ ‘Athleticism’ passive helped him effortlessly perform the three-step movement Ser Anthony had taught him during his brief training with the seneschal back when the otherworlders had first visited Bastille.
“You’re so focused on correcting the sword’s path that you’re forgetting to channel your magic into the attack… Concentrate!” Bram instructed.
“It’s a little hard to focus on the inside when”—Chris just blocked the wolpertinger’s claws with his shield—“this bastard’s going all berserker on me!”
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Don’t let it rattle you,” Bram insisted, adding, “Control your breathing — and with every breath, imagine a sword rising from inside you.”
In his mind’s eye, Bram recalled his last spar with Ser Anthony—remembering with clarity what it meant to clash blades with a swordmaster—and then explained that feeling to Chris as well as he could.
“Within every warrior’s heart is a blade that seeks release. Draw this blade out with your breath, channel it with your magic, let it flow out to the tips of your fingers to sharpen your sword — and then strike with the desire for a killing blow!”
“Sounds like you want me to”—Again, Chris blocked another claw with his shield, saving his neck in the process—“create a mental image of a sword while I’m fighting!”
“Just try it!” Bridget yelled.
She’d moved to stand beside Bram, leaving Chris to face the wolpertinger alone.
“Alright!” Chris breathed in, but then, “Goddamn it!”
The wolpertinger refused to give him the time. It attacked with reckless abandon, forcing Chris to stay on the defensive as if it instinctively knew that giving him room to breathe would be dangerous.
Worriedly, Bridget notched another arrow to her short bow. “Should I…?”
Bram shook his head. “Give him the chance to learn what you already understand.”
More than simply being skilled with her short sword, Bridget’s talent with a bow—a weapon she’d never used before coming to Aarde—was so incredible that Ser Anthony had suggested she use it as often as she could. Bridget readily accepted his proposal while admitting that she’d always wanted to, in her words, “Cosplay a Katnize,” which Hajime later revealed to Bram was the name of the heroine of Bridget’s favorite novel.
“And what is cosplay?” Bram had asked.
“It’s something like putting on a disguise,” Hajime had explained.
“So, in your terms, does it mean I cosplay a bard when I switch disguises?” Bram had clarified.
“Eto,” Hajime smiled sheepishly, “sure, I guess…”
“Cosplay,” Bram had smiled, “I like it. Perhaps I’ll use it myself.”
“Come at me, Rabbit!” Chris roared, drawing Bram out of his musings.
It took many more attempts and several lacerations to his arms and legs before Chris finally managed to properly cast his spell. He dodged to the left just as the wolpertinger’s antlers tried to pierce the padded leather protecting his chest. Then, with his lead foot sliding forward, Chris raised his sword high, and with butt clenched, the Texan roared, “Power Strike!”
With the help of his new mental image of a sword rising from inside him, Chris didn’t forget to weave the magic in his veins onto the tips of his fingers, and the result was a spectacular finish. Glowing slivers of magic wrapped around the edges of his sword’s blade just as Chris swung it down on the wolpertinger’s head.
‘Wham!’
It was a blow that crushed the beast, sending it crashing into the ground that cracked from the impact of an empowered strike. Blood spurted upward, splashing against Chris’ clothes and his face as if he were a man in the middle of a warrior’s baptism.
You have slain a [Wolpertinger]!
“Yippee-ki-yay, mother—”
“Chris!” Bridget yelled. “Watch out!”
The Texan had been so distracted by his achievement that he failed to notice the threat coming at him from behind. He had just enough time to look over his shoulder before a third wolpertinger struck his back. Or it would have had Bram not arrived in time to save Chris from sudden death. With a single mighty swing of his new bastion-forged steel longsword, the prince cut down the wolpertinger that attacked Chris, sending the beast’s severed head flying into the thick foliage above while its body fell lifeless onto the forest floor.
You have slain a [Wolpertinger]!
You earned 30 EXP.
ALERT! [Administrator Lv. 1] prevents you from earning job EXP.
Bram had seen this message so many times these past six days that it no longer irked him. Besides, he knew he could increase his attributes another way.
“Sweet Christmas,” Chris said, his mouth agape.
It wasn’t just the Texan. Bridget also noticed that Bram slew a beast she and Chris had trouble defeating together with a single swing of his blade and that he’d done it without sorcery too.
“A one-shot kill.” Bridget nodded appreciatively. “Remind me…why do you need us again?”
Bram couldn’t help smiling at the rare compliment. It wasn’t lost on him that he’d been getting more of them since meeting Rowan than he’d ever received in his entire life.
“Anyone who diligently trains with their sword can slay a beast,” he insisted.
Bram nodded to the east, where, through the space between the trees, they caught sight of the other half of their party. The thick canopy above kept the forest floor dark even under the watchful glare of the midday sun, but the telltale sparks of magic flashing yonder gave them light to see.
“But against sorcery,” the prince couldn’t help chuckling wryly, “even a diligent man is little more than a beast with dull fangs…”
Rowan had been instructing Hajime in the elemental arts of sorcery. However, since the arcane novice wasn’t yet proficient with his aim, the trickster thought it best to separate him from the others so they could avoid…accidents.
“Form into a fist, o rumbling earth,” Hajime chanted, “and strike down my foe with hardened dirt!”
Rock and dirt flew up to form a large fist that floated next to Hajime’s outstretched wand.
“Shatterstone!”
With a flourish of his wand, the boulder-sized fist shot forward and smashed into a wolpertinger that had been diving toward him antlers-first.
The collision didn’t end well for the beast.
There came the sound of crushing bones and smashed innards, and then Hajime pumped his fists into the air.
“Yatta!” he yelled.
Back in Bram’s group, Bridget said, “I might have been hasty choosing to be a squire.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Chris weighed in.
Envy flashed on both their faces.
“I disagree.” Bram was cleaning his longsword’s blade with a cloth he’d pulled out of his pack. “Hajime’s spell might be more devastating than yours, but the time it takes him to cast Shatterstone compared to Fiery Arrow or Power Strike makes a world of difference in a fight.”
With his authority as the Loom’s chief administrator, Bram pulled up the status of Hajime’s spell so he could show it to the two squires.
ABILITY: Shatterstone TYPE: Elemental Magic (Earth) TIER: 1 RANGE: 50 Feet COST: 100 MP CASTING TIME: 10 seconds DESCRIPTION: Create a boulder-sized fist of stone and smash it into your target, inflicting elemental earth damage while possibly shattering enemies with brittle forms. BOONS: 200% Weapon Damage, a chance to stagger enemies within 2 meters of impact, weakens target’s defense by 10% for 5 seconds. COOLDOWN: 10 seconds
“Without Rowan protecting him, a wolpertinger would have killed Hajime before he could complete his incantation,” Bram explained. “Also…”
The prince pointed to the four small craters close to where Hajime’s wolpertinger had fallen.
“So long as you’re quick on your feet and keep Hajime from finishing his invocation,” Bram put the cloth back into his pack, “he would lose in a duel against either of you four times out of five.”
Of course, there were plenty of exceptions to this rule of quick attacks being dominant in a fight like how the armor of a knight of the White Rose had raised a ‘Barrier’ to repel Bram’s attack moments before the prince had injured Jasper von Galen with an enchanted arrow to the neck. Truthfully though, Bram was biased. He favored the squire job more because it was a prerequisite to advanced professions that he wished to take if only his role as an administrator didn’t bind him to the job.
The sound of rustling leaves caused the three companions to turn to their left.
Bridget’s eyes squinted at the shadows beyond the light of Bram’s sunstone. “What is that…?”
“I think it’s a tail,” Chris replied uncertainly.
They saw a wagging tail with a tip coated in flames, though its light did nothing to disperse the shadows around it.
“Seems like we’re done with wolpertingers,” Bridget reported.
The two otherworlders stepped back at the sight of the thick bushes parting to accommodate the beast pushing past them. The canopy above swayed, causing a great many leaves to fall around the trio.
“I see…” Bram glanced down at the nearest wolpertinger’s carcass and the blood pooling underneath it. “You caught the scent of lingering death.”
He gazed forward just as a pair of orange eyes stared back at him.
“But these dead belong to us,” Bram insisted.
The beast stepped forward, allowing the sunstone’s light to reveal its full form. It was a feline of a size that could rival Renfri. There were orange spots around its yellow fur, and these spots seemed to sprout with flames every time the beast took a lumbering step forward.
Above the giant cat appeared a nametag of a bright orange color, [Flametail Leopard].
Flames sprouted at the tips of the feline face whose growling mouth was filled with sharp fangs. In response to its growl, Bram flipped the flametail leopard the middle finger. He would not be intimidated. Not by any man or beast.
“Um, Prince…” Beside him, Bridget’s brows were knotting together. “…How are we supposed to fight this monster?”
“Together.” The prince brandished his sword forward. “We’ll slay this thing together.”