“Why don’t you wear shoes?” Claudette asked casually as the two of them drifted in the interior of the Shaft. Randidly was taking one of his rare meditative breaks and Claudette felt somewhat bored after long bouts of training her Skills spiced up with sparring. She obviously had trained hard for her entire life, but her work ethic felt truly pathetic when juxtaposed so directly with Randidly Ghosthound.
The man was an abomination stitched together in a lab, designed purely to train.
They had used time dilation to stretch their training session into a month, currently. Claudette felt like she was finally getting comfortable fighting with her new Skill, but it was clear to her that Randidly was only getting started on his training. His intensity steadily increased every day. The reverberations that he had started to release in the past few days were potent enough that Claudette could use them for her training.
Always he seemed to have something else to attempt or experiment or perfect. He practiced with his three images, he practiced with his spear, he practiced with Nether, he trained his physical body, he practiced utilizing his emotions to mobilize his images…
And the short time he spent transitioning between these brutalizing training regimens left Claudette exhausted. She could see the way that the different training tasks utilized different types of energy and focus, but still. How did he stay sane with a pace like this?
So, Claudette tried to make some conversation, feeling quite drowned in the silence of this place.
Randidly opened his eyes and glanced over at her. He must have been working on an image because one of his usually emerald eyes was simply an orb of darkness. “Honestly? Because when I first started out in the System, my shoes were eaten away by acid. At the time, I was too desperate to really worry about anything other than surviving. So I sorta just got used to feeling the ground beneath my bare feet.
“Plus, I quickly developed Skills related to plants and roots.” Randidly continued. He straightened from his meditative position and bent over, stretching to wrap his hands around his ankles. “So the contact became useful. Even now, having my feet pressed against the ground gives me some bonuses.”
“Honestly, I can understand wanting to skip on certain pieces of equipment. At the highest level, equipment can do little to boost your image. Who needs to just accumulate more stats?” But Claudette tilted her head to the side as she studied. “Still, isn’t that… a bit casual of a reason not to have footwear? Especially because it attracts the ire of Commandant Wick-”
She realized her mistake and went ashen just as Randidly’s expression began to darken. Inwardly, she cursed herself; she got so caught up in the training that she forgot about his strained relationship with Wick. She was tired, distracted, and lazy. She should have known better.
Honestly, her long hours of observing Randidly made her believed that Wick was the very reason he trained so hard.
She quickly tried to change the subject. “I think I’ve reached a good place with my image. Perhaps another spar-”
“Not really in the mood,” Randidly grunted. Then he folded his arms and closed his eyes, even as spectral flames began to lick across his arms, both armored and flesh. Claudette could only watch him with sad eyes and then sigh.
At least this proves I need a break. Feeling guilty and still too listless to return to concentrated training, Claudette opened up her Status Screen and examined it closely.
Claudette Beigon
Class: Thane of Ice and Shadow
Level: 99 (99%)
Health(/R per hour): 3611/3540 (500)
Mana(/R per hour): 3001/3001 (490)
Stam(/R per min): 3990/3999 (391)
Vitality: 295
Endurance: 401
Strength: 209
Quicksilver Fluidity (A): 500
Perception: 367
Reaction: 456
Resistance: 256
Determination (R): 404
Intelligence: 280
Wisdom: 591
Control: 394
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Focus: 467
Skills (Soul Skill): The Bearer of Clarent, Which Sings Desolation Lvl 179
Domain: Domain of Tainted Talons (L) Lvl 551
Combat: Heavy Blow Lvl 334, Dodge Lvl 350, Block Lvl 277, Precise Slash (R) Lvl 209, Valorous Roar Lvl 200, Instant Acceleration (Ru) Lvl 333, Dead Frost Barrier (Ru) Lvl 387, Insidious Icicle Barrage (R) Lvl 265, Glacial Accumulation (R) Lvl 337, Danger Sense Lvl 411, Ignore Pain Lvl 303, Croon of the Calamity Blade (M) Lvl 57
Thane Class Skills: Thane’s Endless Combat Adaptability Lvl 521, Desolate Chill (Un) Lvl 438, Explosion of Frost Lvl 344, Blade Transcendence (M) Lvl 667, Cold Armor Lvl 406, Descent of the Frost Revenant 396, Blade of Desolation Lvl 691, Doom Blizzard (L) Lvl 591, Undying Breath (L) Lvl 301
Auxiliary: Experienced Tailoring (R) Lvl 401, Winning Smile (Un) Lvl 393, Eloquence Lvl 301, Greater Stealth (A) Lvl 342, Advanced Scent Identification (Un) Lvl 281, Emotional Subterfuge (A) Lvl 414, Stately Walk (Un) Lvl 291, Slight of Hand Lvl 502, Exceedingly Quick Wits (Ru) Lvl 402, Conversational Acumen (R) Lvl 392, Detached Viewpoint Lvl 399, Supreme Talent (L) Lvl 559, Grip of Bleak Hatred (L) Lvl 46
Claudette’s Soulskill, Domain, and several of her Class-related Skills had recently evolved as she grew more used to her new image and the influence spread through all of her person. At her father’s direction, she had always saved two Skill-slots for her entire life; Claudette understood intuitively that she wouldn’t have a better chance at earning Skills than some of the new Paths available to her. This opportunity netted her the fascinating Croon of the Calamity Blade and Grip of Bleak Hatred, both of which blessed her with damage bonuses and passively increased her capabilities the longer that a battle lasted.
Croon created an increasingly pervasive mental attack (although as far as Claudette could tell during her spars against Randidly, it was a relatively weak one) while Grip of Bleak Hatred steadily increased the efficacy of ALL her Skill Levels, capped by its own Skill Level. In tandem, it meant that as long she continued to fight against foes, she would eventually overcome them.
During the last spar, a half hour of battle saw her finally bridging the gap between Randidly’s unnatural speed and her own Quicksilver Fluidity. But perhaps most importantly, while Grip of Bleak Hatred was at its highest activation, it boosted one of Claudette’s other passive Skills: Supreme Talent.
The description of it was a bit vague, but it definitely increased the speed at which she earned Skill Levels and experience. Each second of battle against Randidly saw her earning one Skill Level or another.
So long as their image doesn’t dwarf mine, I can keep up, too. Claudette tightened her hand into a fist. These fights against Randidly have been obnoxious, due to how high his defensive Stats are, but I can truly feel how much I’ve improved from before. Compared to the foes I previously considered strong…
Of course, her thoughts trailed off there; Claudette estimated that she had about a 50% increase in current strength from the image refinement. Based on what she sensed from utilizing her image, Randidly’s assistance might have tripled her growth potential. Finally, she understood how her image, Skills, and battle style fit together to become a deadly whole. With her newly evolved Soulskill, she felt confident about the current direction of her growth.
Yet how long do I need to remain in this place to bridge the gap…? Claudette’s face darkened. If she had put a number on the upper limit of what she wanted, this outcome would have been very near to it. Perhaps this result was even more than she believed could be possible. But this extremely positive outcome couldn’t match the ludicrous power that the threats against her possessed.
After slapping her cheeks and then chiding herself because it was a habit she picked up from watching Randidly, Claudette back to training. Because even if she now had a more powerful image, moving was the only way she kept the bleak helplessness from drowning her once more.
*****
With the last strike of the hammer, the furred bracer was completed. Almost reverently, he laid it upon the anvil and let it settle. The long grey hairs along the shaped bone seemed to ripple; the piece of equipment seemed sentient, which was a good sign. The highest quality materials had been gathered, the most ritualistic practices adopted, and the actual forging-
Sam had outdone himself. With the natural energies, the phantasm of a wolf manifested above the bracer, raising its head and howling at the moon. Yet he looked at the description of the piece of equipment and only felt disappointment.
An excellent final result. But it fell short of his goals. The limit of VIII remained firm. Even though he had felt like this would have finally-
He sighed and shook his head. His shoulders and fingers ached. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. The heat of the blazing furnace in front of him was the dominant physical presence he had experienced for the last several hours remained a constant companion. The heat poured out, like a massive behemoth breathing on him.
His ears were ringing. Around him, he was vaguely aware of the people who had gathered to watch his forging cheered at the visual manifestation of the item's completion. To date, only seven such events had occurred. But all those cheers felt so hollow after his failure. The noise, the heat, his sweat… everything started to become liquid and run together.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Would be a damn sight if I collapse in front of everyone. Okay, here we go. Just a few steps.
One of the assistants was bringing Sam a microphone but he breezed right past the woman; he was in no fit state to speak. Luckily, he often followed Randidly’s lead of eschewing the public relations side of his responsibilities, so his assistants quickly gathered the equipment and began to explain its Stats without needing him at all.
An unintended side-effect of you being so lazy, Sam’s lips quirked as he limped off the stage. Pre-System, influential people were expected to be public. The internet is coming back slowly, but that same need to dig into someone’s private life hasn't returned. Most people are too busy just trying to survive to be curious.
Regina and his son were waiting for him backstage, with a water bottle and a towel. Sam heaved another long sigh and began limping toward them, but suddenly Daniel was there.
“About the item,” Daniel began.
Sam looked sourly at him. “Do whatever you want. It’s being donated to Donnyton.”
Then he stumped over to kiss his wife and tell his son that no, he couldn’t take the cool wolf bracer.