image [https://cdn.midjourney.com/28ede594-2ae8-49f6-8272-63ce52a24014/0_3.png]
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Thursday passed in a blink, with errands and shopping. Peter gained another level by hunting a few monsters, though the majority of the XP came from the exploring done the previous day. On Friday morning, the expedition left at the same time, a bit after eight.
To his regret, he was assigned to another group, led by the Sports teacher. Good for the security of the group, but bad for sneaking away. He and Regina waved to each other and went on separate ways.
During the hiking, Peter asked Sports if he could move to the other group, for he had a friend there. The teacher allowed it because Melinda's group was still in view. A hundred yards after skipping Sports' company, he entered a narrow valley where no one could see him.
"You're joking? Of course, I want."
After changing into his combat attire, Peter Warped as fast as he could toward the nearest village. There were only catfolk people in there, and he waited for a few seconds before going deeper in, but no one paid him any attention. He found the billboard in the hamlet's. There was no one in line, so he cleared his voice to wake up the sleeping clerk and whispered: "I want to list an announcement for a Bounty Hunter slash mercenary, Redroar."
The clerk took a pen and a piece of paper. "Saying?"
"Hi, I'm the guy you met yesterday… with the directions…"
"Di-rec-tions," the clerk nodded.
"Leave me a message about where and when can we meet. That's all."
"That's… all...," the clerk wrote.
"No… never mind."
"No… Never mind."
"Erase the last three words, stop the message. How much it costs?"
The clerk scratched his lower back, around the tail. "A hundred Floor Two dollars if you want your message to be speeded up," he offered a handshake that Peter ignored.
"OK," Peter said, happy to get rid of the Hitler Rex banknote. He forwarded it between his index and middle finger, trying not to touch the lion's fingers. The clerk pocketed it before pointing behind Peter with his index claw.
"Sorry?" Peter shook his head.
The catfolk repeated the gesture, adding a sort of poking motion. Turning on his heels, Peter widened his eyes. Thirty feet away, Redroar sat on the terrace, a beer in hand. Five lively cubs were fretting around, with glasses of milk in hand, or scratching each other for fleas. The barbarian waved.
It's OK, that bill was worthless.
"Sorry I let you buy a message but I have a strict policy of not ruining other people's businesses," Redroar said. "More so if they're family. That's hubby."
"Such a classy gentlemen vibe," Peter said. "Nice place you have here," he turned around, looking at the twentyish or so buildings in the hamlet. Most might have seen better days.
"It's a dump, but you go where the work is," Redroar shrugged. "How can I be of assistance?"
"Was it you that killed one of the teachers yesterday? An old lady?"
"I don't think so," Redroar said, putting down the beer and sliding her right hand under the table.
"I want you to train me. I'm stuck on the kids' planet and I could use some martial skills. You did an amazing feat… Taking down a stage seven Cultivator," Peter blurted before she could jump him.
"Oh, it was no big deal," Redroar waved her hand, which now held a small crossbow. "Sorry," she grinned sheepishly, putting the weapon on the table. "That old lady moved so slow: Iiiiiii….. wiiiiil…. smiiiiite…. fart… yoooooou… " She imitated so well Botanics' voice that Peter let out a burst of laughter, feeling very bad about it the next second. "It was mercy, really. I'm glad I didn't have to kill a kid instead… Anyway… show me your eyes."
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After a short delay, Peter raised his dark visor.
"Hm… OK, you look trustable enough. I'm a good judge of character. But I don't work for free. It will be an ounce of—"
"I prefer to barter," Peter interjected, opening the left part of his jacket. "What do you say about this?" Under his arm was a holster with a medium-sized revolver. It was a few hundred bucks worth, courtesy of the Black Market. If she accepted the deal, it was cheaper than an ounce of gold.
"Mmmm…." The Barbarian eyes widened with greed. "Three lessons, for that and all six bullets."
"I'll give you fifty bullets, silver coated."
"No way…" Redroar countered before realizing he was offering a better deal, then gasping.
"I'm not a miser. I'm confident your work is top, and I prefer to be friends," he said, detaching the holster and putting it on the table.
"It's a deal, friend," she offered a handshake. "If you ever appear on a bounty board, I'll do it myself, clean and painless. It's a promise."
Shut up. I won't appear on any bounty board.
"Good," Redroar slapped her hands on the table, raising up. "You'll train along my kids. I have to babysit them today, hubby's working. There's a good spot behind the village."
With that said, Redroar led the way toward a large clearing, surrounded on three sides by trees, and on the last one by the grasslands. "I assume you have some powers, but they're wild magic, not cultivation, right?" she asked.
"Yeah…"
"Let's warm up. Kids, hide in the grass, you'll play hide and seek."
"Yey!" the little cubs yelled as one. Running toward the grass, they plunged at its base. Five lines moved away, akin to a shark's fin through water, but they were very thin. After a hundred feet, they disappeared. Peter was at a loss. He took out his helmet and scratched his head.
"I give you ten minutes to find them. The rule is: once they settle they can't move. In real-life situations, it depends. Any ideas?"
"Come out and I'll give you choc—" Peter shouted.
"It's toxic for us," Redroar threw a slap behind his head.
"Catnip!"
"Underage!" a second slap followed.
"Can I use a drone?"
"Of course not. This is about you, not tech."
Picking a small rock from the ground, Peter threw it into the grass in a straight trajectory. There was a slight jerk on the right of his pebble. He Warped forward and grabbed one of the cubs, raising them in the air. The cub growled, angered he had been discovered.
"Four more, go on," Redroar said.
He left the cub down, allowing it to return to its mother, and tried the same trick again, but in vain. He tried to listen for noises. A little sneezing, barely audible, got him the second win.
"You're doing great," the Barbarian encouraged him. "I'll give you a tip: think how kids are. What they do, and what they don't."
No, she saw I used my hearing… it's about the other senses. Kids don't like to wash… it's about the smell…
Breathing slowly, he walked back and forth through the grass, until a soft musky scent became stronger, then weaker. Backing on his own tracks, Peter snatched up a third cub.
"Good, you're smart. Now comes the hard part. The last two are girls."
Girls wash…
Brilliant!
The fourth cub was revealed by its own cleanliness. "You smell like a princess," Peter complimented the little lioness, who smiled at him. For the fifth, he tried, and tried some more, but didn't find them.
"Time's up," Redroar said. "Look around me and count the cubs."
"Five?" Peter exclaimed. "How?"
"She played with your mind. The second you had your head turned to follow her siblings, she returned and hid behind me."
"Wow… smart girl."
"Yes… she wants to become a spy. Pays better than bounty hunting. But there's a double-edged meaning in this too," she bent her knees to be nearer Peter's ear. "She used her brothers and sister as a decoy… Sometimes, you need to let other people die to survive… It might be worth it, or not. That's up to you to decide."
"Fight time. Don't hurt each other too much. Kids, get him."
As one, the cubs jumped on Peter. Two grabbed and bit his ankles, another two his arms and the last one climbed on his back and started to scratch at his eyes.
"Whoaa!"
Trying to shake them off didn’t help, so he Warped, hoping they'd stay behind. They didn't. It was a piece of valuable information, but the scratches hurt a lot. Finally, he rolled on the ground. The cubs jumped off and raised to fight again, but their mother called the bout a draw.
"Do you have any skills with a blade?"
"Nope."
"Then learn some and come back. It's a waste of time to teach you the basics. Boxing or wrestling?"
"A bit of both, in school…"
"We'll go over that after lunch. What's your forte?"
"Ranged weapons, I suppose. I throw javelins well enough and shoot with guns decently."
For the rest of the day, Redroar tested and trained Peter with severity, but also calm. The footwork and moves he learned in boxing were also good for blades, she said. She was superior to him with a bow, albeit he was much better with javelins. There was a lunch break, on the terrace, Peter paying the bill for everybody, including her husband.
The Barbarian knew little about guns so he spent some time and extra bullets training her. Redroar said she was training him to be an instructor by that, and he owed her extra money. Peter took his leave when the System observed through Kostel that the groups were on the move.
"One more thing. You have a neat ability with that movement skill, I'll train you to use it in combat next week. It was fun," she patted his shoulder. "I remembered my days in the army… I was a Sarge… Bloody Cultivators…"
Peter nodded and Warped away, happy. He had gained two levels on a single training day. The return was eventless, and at seven sharp, he was in front of the pizzeria.