OI, Everyone! It’s Chapter 100! Given you’ve followed this random collection of mumblings so far, can you spend a few minutes to post a Review and Ratings, if you haven’t done so? 😊 Thanks! – Da Author Guy.
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“So, you boys get your notices yet? You got a nervous look about you.”
Their expressions of concentration wavered, and Sama promptly smacked Grik in the knee hard enough to sweep his leg out from under him, slid over a meter backwards without her feet moving, was inside Mohono’s reach before he could get his long blade around in time, and palmed him right in the belly button.
The big purple guy whoofed, stumbled, and fell down backwards before he could plant feet that had been caught in midstep.
They both looked at her, chagrinned, from down on the ground. Sama lifted an eyebrow at them. “Nice hits, Senpai!” they called out ruefully together.
“Kip up.” Big feet slammed down, heavyfoot gripped the ground, hands slapped down and palm strikes rebounded, shooting the two of them right back to their feet.
She shook her head. “Neither of you should have hit the ground. It looks like I need to beat stance recovery into you properly. Mord, quit gloating and get over here in line.”
“Wha-? Me?” the black-bearded older brother protested.
“Can you do a fall rebound after I hit you?” she asked, cracking her knuckles. It sounded like pebbles popping to dust. “I know your dad can. You want him to show you how it’s done? I’m sure he can dust off his Hammer to give you a few pointers.”
He hopped up and got in line without another word.
While both Mohono and Grik could wield an axe or hammer, they preferred big honking swords. Grik liked him some big scimitar action, and Mohono could swing a greatsword around as easily as a normal human could a bastard sword.
Both were acceptable, if not preferred, weapons for use in the Crystal Splitting style of the Crystal Dragon school. However, Flowing Waters was a true sword style, and perfectly fine for that style of combat. Neither of them much cared for shields, as in a real fight they’d opt to be wearing armor, but they had the option if need be... and if they got in a real fight on a real battlefield, they’d likely be scrambling for them.
“Two ways to take a hit... you fall and bounce, or you roll and break. Grik, Ocean Palm to the chest.”
He didn’t pause, as if she had to repeat herself, she would first send him flying so he paid better attention to her orders.
A fluid stream of energy gathered around his palm as his shoulders worked, snapping it out right into the center of her flat chest. He could break a 4x4 with that hit, and shatter a normal man’s breastbone, maybe even stopping his heart, but all it did is slam her backwards. She went right over, bending back over, hand hitting the ground, pivoting, her feet flying overhead to absorb more of the momentum.
Suddenly her feet came down, hit the ground, and she just stopped dead. There was an impression like a steel spring was being torqued down tight. Grik’s reddened eyes started to go wide, and then abruptly she was right up in his face with both hands.
There was no visible effect like there was with chi, but his heavyfoot stance was ripped right out the ground, dirt flying, and he went soaring backwards. His head hit the ground first, his legs went flying past, and he bounced and completed another somersault and a half before he came to a stop.
“Or you can do the wet noodle approach,” Sama noted rather critically. Grik sort of groaned on the ground. “What was that?!”
“Good hit, Senpai!” Grik called out quickly, his face still in the dirt, and even managed to get a thumb up.
Nodding in satisfaction, Sama walked over to Mord, and Mohono definitely didn’t heave a sigh of relief, nopers.
Then his feet somehow were in the air as Sama swept through a full circle, hit the tree trunks called his lower limbs and broke his stance, continuing the circle with a full pirouette and in midair her palm came down on his gut.
He hit the ground with all the fun force of about two hundred kilos, plus a full palm strike hammering on his Crystal Shield of chi and letting him know it wasn’t all that.
There was a crunching, and dirt went flying.
“Mohono,” Sama noted for him, “you didn’t bounce or roll.”
“Uh, good hit, Senpai!” the ogryn managed by weak way of reply, also holding up his thumb.
Sama shook her head, and stepped over in front of the eldest of the trio, who swallowed despite himself as he looked up at her. “Gimme a nice straight Pillar Fist to the jaw, Mord.”
He almost said something about her being able to take the hit, then realized those words would be really painful, and slammed an iron-hard overhand punch right at her jaw, the rigid ripple of his chi around his hand.
He could powder a man’s jaw with this blow, or break their neck. It struck Sama’s chin solidly, smashing her head back and down, taking her down like a tower of cards.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Except her feet didn’t move at all, remaining in place as if planted. Her palms hit the ground, there was a puff of dirt exploding in all directions, and she was suddenly bouncing up like a rubber ball, snapping forward and down into him as she pushed his arm out of the way.
Their foreheads met, and to his utter astonishment despite himself, Mord and his very thick skull got slammed down and back with a loud crunching of internal powers meeting. He slammed back down onto the ground, seeing stars. He wondered how that was possible with the Haze up there, blocking away the things he’d only seen in old films...
“Mord, you didn’t bounce back up.”
Trying to get his eyes to straighten out, and groaning at the pain in his forehead, Mord held up a big fist thumbs-up. “Good hit, Senpai!” he replied a bit shakily.
Sama clucked as she looked at the three of them, not a shred of amusement on her face. “You three are going in together, aren’t you?”
“Uh, how’d you know?” Grik muttered sheepishly, crawling back to his feet.
Sama whipped her head around to glare at him. “Get up properly!” she snapped.
He instantly threw himself back down in a belly flop, took a breath, and then slammed his hands down, shooting back to his feet instantly.
Mohono did almost the same thing, but kicked up from his backside, planting his size 28’s solidly as they came down and thrusting with his hands, shooting all the way up to eight feet with remarkable and intimidating speed.
Mord planted his own big, thick feet, anchored them, and simply levered himself upright, like a machine cranking itself back to proper position. It was a nice display of true heavyfoot, and real leg strength.
Sama just shot him a glare, and he groaned. “Break stance. Bounce!” She swept his legs out from under him, and down he went.
He bounced back up, but didn’t get his feet back under himself properly, and Sama promptly slammed him down on his face. As he bounced back up with hammering blows of his hands abusing the poor and patient ground, she sent him all the way over on his back again.
He tried to resist, but her ki was cutting right through his Crystal Dragon resistance, and her strength was just unreal. He was close to three times her weight, and she was handling him like a basketball.
This irregular rhythm continued for a good minute, until he finally managed a perfect rebound and was set enough to stop her from just throwing him down again leisurely, grabbing her arm to stay partially upright as she pushed again... and half-bent over and supporting his weight, her heavyfoot still didn’t budge.
“Good hit, Senpai?” he managed cautiously, his feet planted and upper body horizontal to the ground. He carefully reached down, piston-hit the ground, and lifted himself precisely back to standing.
She slapped his hairy chest, his chi rang like a stone plate, her blue eyes as cold as ever, and the wicked one crossed by her Cursemarks seeming to crawl over his soul.
She turned her head to look up at Mohono. “You ready to bounce?” she inquired. “Lose your Stance. Bounce!”
Mohono yiped, as suddenly he was heading towards the ground, and he had a few feet further to fall than Mord did...
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Shiv shook her head slightly at the display as her adoptive father, Hank Blakhamar, trundled up next to her, his pipe in mouth, glowing green embers rising from the bowl.
“Now that is a scene you don’t see every day,” the dwarf noted approvingly.
Watching a two-hundred kilo ogryn flying through the air, all knees and elbows, and not rolling correctly to break his momentum and get to his feet, was indeed rather amusing. Grik followed, almost getting it right, and then slipping on the rebound. Mord could drag himself to a halt very quickly, and then get to his feet, but failed to bounce back to the attack.
With cries and heavy impacts, his three adopted sons went flying one after another in every direction. Of course, they weren’t really resisting the throws... that wasn’t the point of the exercise. They had to be thrown out of control to practice getting back up properly, and these little knocks and sprawls weren’t nothing. They’d learned how to take little falls like those a long time ago.
Or, in other words, they had at least DR 4/-, as befit Crystal Dragon practitioners.
“Not an ounce of true chi, no magic of her own,” he mused to Shiv thoughtfully. “That is one dangerous girl, Shivaeli.”
The faintest hint of color appeared on Shiv’s bronze-hued face. “Dad...” she began.
“I will address my lovely daughter by her lovely name, and no other,” the dwarf stated firmly, and Shiv tried to hide her blush as she looked elsewhere, and hurriedly changed the subject, reminding herself that different races had different standards of beauty...
“I did some research on Hagchildren. They are pretty rare, as you might imagine, but none of them are as strong and fast as she is,” she told her father.
“Pish,” he replied calmly. “I know where you served, Shivaeli. Don’t tell me you don’t know the difference between strong and skilled.” He dragged her over closer to him, and despite herself, Shivaeli leaned into his unmoving chest, the Crystal chi turning him into a living wall of iron, able to take all her weight.
There was probably no place in the world she felt as safe as when Hank Blakhamar’s arm was around her. A lot of the tension she always felt relaxed when she was next to her adoptive father.
“Yes. She’s using all Seven Dragons fluidly, seamlessly. She can teach Ocean and Crystal like a master, but this is all Moon with some Shadow and Sun thrown in.” Mohono went flying with another yodeling call, and this time managed to snap into a tuck, roll, and then snap out of it, finally stopping himself short, but gouging up the ground and losing the chance to bounce back properly.
He still got himself back to his feet and charged back in a big purple show, a wide grin on his face.
“You think I didn’t see you testing her Fire styles out?” Hank scoffed, giving her another shake. “Assessment?”
“She’s not as good as me at knives, but she’s so much faster and stronger that it didn’t matter. She pops those golden soul-claws of hers, and she might as well be wielding meat cleavers for fingers. Hitting her is like hitting scales over stone. She sat there and let me beat the fuck out her until my hands were bleeding, and was just healing up as she did so. Then we got done, and she pulled the injuries out of my hands into her own, and I watched my broken knuckles get healed all away on her hands...” she trailed off.
“Aye, you treat her different than any other woman, even your sisters. You’re afraid of her.”
Shiv nodded once at her foster father’s keen discernment. “Her soul’s gold, Papa. That fire in her eyes, I’ve seen that in a lot of eyes that end up in bad ways, and bring trouble to a lot of people when they fall, when their enemies come looking for revenge.”
“Mmm.” Hank Blakhamar did not judge Shiv’s view on life. “Did you notice something else?”
“What?” Shiv asked, brow furrowing.
“Nobody she associates with is weak.” Hank took a deep puff of his pipe as Shiv thought that over. “She’ll protect weak people, she’ll watch over them, she’ll respect them... but she doesn’t take them as friends.” He pointed his pipe slowly. “She’s willing to be friends with the children of Hank Blakhamar.”
Shiv could hear the pride in her foster father’s voice, and realized why.
Hank Blakhamar’s family could take care of themselves, and so could he...