Gregory ended up walking back through the gates of Templeholm just as the sun began to peak above the horizon. Between waiting for the hunt to end and then the trip back he’d ended up skipping the night, leaving him rather tired. Thankfully it seemed his stat bonuses prevented him from being irritable, as he normally would have been. Which was good as Lex was waiting for him with her arms crossed.
“Kyle?” she asked after looking around as he approached.
“I couldn’t kill him,” Gregory admitted.
“He is stronger than us,” she sighed, and Gregory bit his lip at the misunderstanding but decided not to correct her. He didn’t know how to feel about Kyle anymore and guessed that Lex was even more confused. On one hand Kyle had been helpful, giving both advice and more direct assistance, and seemed quite nice. On the other he had tried to kill Lex, even if some promise or ability was pressuring him to do so it would have been cold comfort had he succeeded.
“I’m surprised you didn’t come racing back out,” Gregory said.
“I thought about it,” Lex admitted, “but I figured if I did he’d just restart the hunt. I also thought about asking other Ascenders for help, but it was late. The city guard also put out a call for all Ascenders, they said to meet outside the guard barracks this morning.”
“Why?”
“Probably something to do with the Mutts,” she shrugged, “let’s get going before we’re too late, we can grab something to eat on the way.”
That something, it turned out, was a couple buns from an early street vendor they ran into on the way to the guard barracks. Considering they had to cross the entire city, walking from the south gate where they’d returned to the north gate where the barracks was, they passed more than a few vendors who were still setting up. While the vendors weren’t allowed atop the stone, with the temples, there were no such restrictions in the main city.
Despite Lex’s worries they arrived well before the meeting was to start. What surprised Gregory, however, was the number of people who showed up. Lex explained that it wasn’t uncommon for Ascenders to bring their companions to meetings like this, just like how she’d followed him, so that explained the numbers in part. But even then there had to be at least a dozen Ascenders, all of which stood out from the locals thanks to their odd clothing or fancy weapons. Compared to them Gregory almost looked like a local, if not for the ease with which he handled his halberd and how little the weight of his armor bothered him, despite having been active all night.
Also early to the meeting was a man in what looked like wizard robes, dark blue complete with a pointed hat and gnarled staff. A woman in tight leathers and more swords than seemed necessary stood guard next to him, giving anyone who got too close a glare. But the one group that really stood out was a pair of Ascenders who seemed more impractically dressed than anything. One was a bear of a man who stood at least seven feet tall, clothed in nothing but a thick pair of trousers. His torso was partly covered by thick chest hair that failed to hide the massive muscles that rippled beneath. He didn’t have any obvious weapons, but with how large his fists were he likely didn’t need them.
Next to the giant of a man was a woman who wore what Gregory could only describe as a chainmail dress that ended just above her knees. A more solid breastplate covered her chest, but did nothing to hide her bust, if anything it seemed built to emphasize her assets. Metal pleats a hand-width across hung from a steel belt that clung to her hips, almost weapons in their own right based on how sharpened their ends were. Armored boots covered her legs up to just above her knee, leaving a thin strip of pale flesh visible between their tops and the hem of her chain dress.
“That… doesn’t seem practical,” Gregory commented.
“You’d be surprised,” Lex replied as she followed his gaze, “if you have the strength, and money, for it a thick chain with steel plates offers good protection.”
“But a dress?”
“Typically they’ll wear a tight slip or thick shirt and shorts underneath, if only to stop the chain from pinching,” she shrugged, “and the hem of the dress is buckled to the bottom of those metal pleats, meaning there’s a limit to how much the skirt can flare. I imagine even if she was upside down it wouldn’t show anything… untoward.”
“Isn’t she taking ‘breast plate’ a bit too literally though?”
“Do you have any idea how painful it is to stuff myself into this leather cuirass?” Lex asked, “if I could afford armor fitted for a woman’s figure I would. It requires more work, and often has to be customized for each individual so it can be quite pricey.”
“You sound like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Gregory commented, giving her a sidelong glance.
“If I had a figure like hers, the strength to manage it and the coin to afford it I might wear something similar,” she shrugged, returning Gregory’s glare almost daring him to disagree, “I mean, I cut my hair shorter once, every other person thought I was a man.”
“I… see,” Gregory replied slowly, looking back at the armored woman and her giant companion, “what about the heels? Can you explain those?”
“That’s… no that’s just weird,” she shook her head, “I never understood how other woman walk in those things, much less dance. But to fight in them as well? Either she’s really good or values appearance over comfort… and effectiveness.”
Before they could continue their conversation the doors to the barracks swung open and the gathered Ascenders, and their companions, went silent. An older man, his dark hair flecked with streaks of grey and a face that was half wrinkles and half scars emerged with two others just behind him. All three wore the shining armor of the city guard, but only the man in front omitted his helm presumably so everyone could see his face.
“That’s the guard captain,” Lex whispered.
“This all we got?” the old captain grumbled, his eyes sweeping the gathered crowd, “Or are the others slow to wake?”
“Get on with it old man,” the woman in tight leathers complained, opening her mouth to continue but froze when her wizard like companion glared at her.
“New Ascenders too,” the old man almost spat before stomping up to a small stage so he could address everyone, “I don’t know how much everyone here knows, but it seems the Mutts are coming early and in numbers. There was a minor group of about a hundred that was led to the city a few days ago, already the slayer knights have reported several more groups of similar size making their way down the mountains.
“But even that seems to simply be the vanguard, mutts only congregate in numbers around a strong alpha, or pack leader. The stronger the pack leader the larger his pack, and the larger the packs surrounding his. We estimate the main group is less than a week out and consist of at least ten thousand beasts.”
Even the ascenders were silent at that, glancing nervously within their groups. Gregory had seen the damage and chaos a hundred or so Mutts could wreck, chasing a group of Slayer Knights through the night before catching up and fighting a protracted battle. Even with the presence of Gregory and Kyle many of the Knights had fallen that day, not to mention the city guard who’d joined the battle. Nathen had been the most impactful presence there.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Nathen! Gregory straightened and glanced around the crowd once more but couldn’t find the other Ascender. None of the others seemed to be from his world either, were they the only two to make it this far? And where was Nathen anyways?
“As if that wasn’t problem enough,” the guard captain continued, “the local counts have refused to send any troops. Seems there’s a minor rebellion on or something, so while the Slayer Knights have turned out we lack numbers. And numbers are what we need to fight the Mutts, more bodies to spread their mark out.”
“What about the churches?” a local man asked as the captain paused, “aren’t they supposed to help out as well?”
“Most of the help we get will come from the Protector,” the Captain replied, “most of the city guard and Slayer Knights have his blessing, but beyond him I wouldn’t expect much more than medial aid from any others.”
“This city is theirs too!” the woman in leather spoke up, ignoring the glare she got from her companion this time, “they realize they’ll be killed if the walls fall as well, right?”
“Templeholm has fallen before,” her companion answered, “atop the temple-stone the bishops will knock down the lifts and wait for rescue. Between the gods of water and farmers they have plenty of supplies to wait practically indefinitely.”
“That’s ridiculous!” she snapped, “what if help never comes?”
“I’ve already petitioned the churches for aid,” the Guard Captain interrupted, his deep voice cutting through the argument with ease, “but he is correct in that aside from a few heralds that decide to join in the defense, don’t expect any divine assistance.”
“So what’s the plan,” the large half-dressed man asked, his voice rivaling even the captain for how deep it was.
“I hope to draw the main hoard of Mutts into the city walls, then you Ascenders can hunt down and kill the Alpha. Without him the hoard should break apart and scatter.”
“That will endanger every other village in the region!” Lex shouted angrily.
“Maybe that will get the local lords off their damned asses then!” the Captain snapped back, his glare shocking even Lex into silence, “and we’ve sent messengers to the cities we could warning them to evacuate or prepare a defense/”
“They won’t listen to the captain of the guard here,” Lex said defiantly, even if her voice was softer.
“We can’t force them to do anything,” he said, glaring again and daring her to continue, but Lex seemed to back down and the captain returned to scanning the crowd, “Unless anyone else has a better idea that’s the plan. I know I can’t force any of you to stay here either, so all I can do is ask you to assist. Just know that if I find you hiding in the city and the walls fall, it won’t be the Mutts that kill you.”
With that last threat the old man turned and strode back into the barracks, leaving the gathered Ascenders looking thoughtful.
\*\*\*\*
Nathen had learned much in his first day of fighting the Custodian. He learned that while the construct’s blade was dull, it still hurt like hell. If not for his leather armor he’d likely have multiple broken bones after the first fight. He also learned that the Custodian wouldn’t pursue him past a certain point in the hall, allowing Nathen to retreat and regroup. Finally he learned the water in the fountains near the entrance of the vault had healing properties. It wasn’t as strong as his healing water but it was enough that after a half hour he was generally feeling good enough to challenge the Custodian again.
“Again?” the Custodian asked as Nathen approached once more, “Eager for another beating?”
“It’ll take more than a few beatings to get me to back down,” Nathen smirked, taking a stance and charging in. Despite his words he was getting worried. The Custodian didn’t seem much faster or stronger than he did, the real issue was the vast difference in skill. The Custodian’s dull blade was always perfectly placed to deflect Nathen’s own blade, and seemed to curve through even the smallest opening to slam into his gut, shoulder or thigh.
He'd even become convinced that the Custodian was intentionally targeting non-vital areas. Whether that was normal or if the construct was just happy to have someone to fight after who knows how many years of doing nothing but sitting Nathen couldn’t tell. For an empty suit of armor the Custodian wasn’t like what he expected of a construct. The more they fought the more it seemed like the Custodian was a person. Perhaps he had once been human, just with his soul transplanted into the armor to guard the vault.
Thus far Nathen had yet to land even a single strike against the Custodian, so even though their strength and speed was equivalent he couldn’t start building up Focused Strikes. Even if he could, he had a suspicion that the Custodian would match his strength and speed, it just seemed like the test was built to test his skill with a sword and not just his physical might. There weren’t any mental threats, so Dangerous Mind didn’t come into play. And Looting said it was damaged, so even if he had something to loot he couldn’t rely on it, though he’d yet to test exactly what ‘damaged’ meant.
Nathen lasted barely ten minutes before various strikes forced him to back off once more, the Custodian relaxing as he retreated.
“You’re never going to pass the test if you’re this weak,” the Custodian called, causing Nathen to pause.
“I’m at least as strong as you are,” he countered, irritated from being forced back again and the pain.
“Not physical strength,” the Custodian replied, “I mean mentally, barely a few hits and the pain is already too much for you?”
“You expect me to sit there and take more of a beating?”
“The next trials are even more painful than this one, if you can’t handle a few light hits you won’t make it.”
“None of my facets or abilities reduce the damage I take,” Nathen groaned.
“Do your facets define you, or do you define your facets?”
“What?”
“Are you controlled by your facets? A mere puppet to their gifts?” the Custodian insisted.
“I mean,” Nathen paused, “my facets influence me.”
“And do you not influence them back?”
“It’s not that easy!” Nathen insisted, “I have a shattered facet that penalized my willpower.”
“Then fix it,” the Custodian said simply, “Or are you so weak that your failings cripple you?”
“I am not weak,” Nathen growled, stomping back towards the Custodian.
“Then what are you?” it replied, lifting its blade.
“What do you mean?”
“You claim to be strong, yet how can you be strong if you don’t know what you are?” the golem scoffed, stepping forward to swing its blade as Nathen got into reach.
“I’m human,” Nathen said, deflecting the attack and attempting a counter that the Custodian easily avoided.
“Obviously,” it said mockingly, “are you just a simple human? If you die here could your god send another human to replace you?”
“I’m… a Herald of Freedom,” Nathen nearly shouted as he lashed out in a series of wild attacks the Custodian parried or avoided.
“And if that title is revoked will you cease to exist?”
“I’m…” Nathen stuttered stepping back to avoid a couple swipes from the Custodian.
“WHAT ARE YOU!” the Custodian roared, pressing the attack harder and harder as Nathen struggled to fend off the blows.
“I’m a Gamer!” Nathen shouted in reply, barely aware of what he was saying as he desperately fended off attack after attack.
\-\-\-\-
*FACET* Gaming (shattered) *HAS EVOLVED INTO* Gamer (moderate)
\-\-\-\-
\-\-\-\-
*FACET* Gamer (moderate)
Just because the world isn’t a game doesn’t mean you aren’t a gamer
-Increased willpower
-Increased learning speed
-Some abilities can be leveled up with practice, repetition and skill
\-\-\-\-
\-\-\-\-
*ABILITY* Looting *has been partly repaired*
\-\-\-\-
Strength surged through Nathen’s body even as he ignored the windows popping up around him, what had been throbbing welts faded. No, not faded, they still hurt, Nathen was just more able to push through the pain. Better able to focus. At the same time the sense he’d had for what he was doing wrong with his blade returned, small details that he should have noticed before became impossible to miss. How he held his sword, the angle the Custodian held his own weapon at, how the two weapons rebounded when they struck one another. Ever since he’d realized the world wasn’t a game he’d pushed those thoughts into the background without even realizing it. After all how could the game help him learn to fight if he wasn’t in a game.
But it wasn’t the game helping him, it was his own abilities. His own soul was attempting to guide him using the method he found most comfortable, gaming.
The Custodian must have sensed the change as it went silent, seemingly happy to help Nathen express his new found awareness. Their swords clashed at an increasing rate as they danced around one another, sparks flying each time the blades met. With a grin Nathen finally felt like he was taking control of the fight. No, not just the fight but his path. His life.
Nathen parried the Custodian’s attack, pushing it off just as the blades met causing them to rebound. Changing his grip he lowered the point of his own weapon, his grin growing as he spotted the opening as the Custodian recovered and he pulled his sword in, lashing out with the tip with all his strength.
Only for the Custodian to catch the tip of the blade on the hilt of his own weapon between where his gauntleted hands held it. Nathen froze in surprise, he’d felt certain that blow would land, yet not only had the Custodian blocked it, but using the hilt of his sword. He was in too much shock at the move to even respond as the tip of the golem’s dull blade swept in and slammed into his side. He was catapulted across the hall by the strike, slamming into a column before crashing to the ground.
“What-,” Nathen coughed, flecks of blood in his spit, “what was that?”
“Knowing what you are is but the first step in this trial,” the Custodian explained, “now it can begin in earnest.”