I settled in a clearing a fair distance away from everyone else, where I think my actions wouldn't be a bother. I expected flashing lightning and violently swinging a long blade around to be looked upon unfavorably, especially considering there were a few children scattered around.
Unsure where to begin, I decided to just do what I could, focusing on one skill at a time. First, I wanted to figure out how my storm cloak skill worked.
I grabbed the handle of the machete at my waist and inexpertly pulled it from the sheath, the action taking a bit of effort due to the awkward angle. The machete itself was rather long; close to two and a half feet of scratched and scuffed steel connected to a handle without a guard.
As I held it in my hand, I activated the skill. Instantly, the blade was cloaked with crackling energy, the instrument glowing with an angry blue hue. In the light, I could see that when the blade flashed through the air, it would leave a trail of what looked like watery mist.
Was that what made it storm magic, not lightning magic? The combination of both the cloud and the lightning? I couldn’t confirm that suspicion without seeing lightning magic by itself, but I suspected it was the case.
Pulling up my menu but letting it fade into the back of my mind, I kept track of my mana drain while Storm Cloak was active. At the count of thirty, I lost a single mana. Another thirty, another mana. I repeated the process three times, each time with the same result.
Given that I had a total of sixty mana, I could therefore keep the skill active for thirty whole minutes. It was an impressive amount of time. I was particularly curious whether increasing my proficiency in the skill would increase the time I could have it active, but that was a test for another day.
Next, I found a tree and cautiously pushed my cloaked machete into the wood. The blade bit through the bark like it wasn’t even there, only slowing slightly once I had pushed it in close to a foot. The glowing blue mana and wisping mist seemed to corrode or dissolve the wood more than burn it, making it fade away into the atmosphere.
As I continued this test, I noticed that my mana did tick down faster than it did before. It seemed that while keeping the blade inside of something would deal a considerable amount of damage, it was also a huge waste of mana. Quick, effective attacks were the way to go.
Curiosity sated, I released the Storm Cloak and started to focus on my combat skill. This, though, was a very different experience than using my racial skill.
Just like with Storm Cloak, I toggled the skill on. Instantly, I felt a sense of wrong, and I just knew that I needed to correct my stance. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, just an acknowledgment that I was doing something incorrectly. It took some time and effort, but eventually, I managed to get into a position that the skill deemed correct, and the wrongness fled. Then I tried to move, and the wrongness returned again.
After close to two hours of experimenting and a large amount of patience, swearing, willpower, and swearing, I figured out what the skill was trying to walk me through. There were three basic attacks from a set stance: a horizontal slice, a vertical slice, and a lunge, all while maintaining stable footing.
As I got used to the moves and practiced through them again and again, I eventually got to the point where I could move through a full cycle of attacks without the feeling of wrongness four times before I made a mistake.
After another hour of cycling through the attacks, I felt my skill level increase.
Combat Skills:
Novice Swordsmanship: 1->2
Taking only a few moments to parse the message, I continued working through the stances. This time, though I was sure I was doing the movements correctly, I could feel that sense of wrongness yet again.
After another hour of experimentation, I found that I now needed to incorporate some basic footwork into the attacks, so that I was now slowly pirouetting around an invisible enemy. This added even more complexity to the movements, leaving me stumbling. I would have fallen over many times, but each time I lost balance, I simply willed myself to float, regaining my stance instantly.
I repeated this practice until, like before, I could work through the moves without messing up close to four times in a row. At that time, my skill level increased yet again.
Combat Skills:
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Novice Swordsmanship: 2->3
Checking my phone, I saw that the battery had finally managed to die. I needed to get it charged again. Thankfully I still had that solar battery pack from Mom’s garage somewhere. The phone itself couldn’t be used for its main purpose anymore, but the camera, notes, and calculator were still useful. There was also the clock, of course, though without satellites or cell signal I wasn’t sure it would ever be accurate again.
My stomach informed me that it was now lunchtime, so I sheathed my machete and took off into the sky, zipping back to the hotel. There were still a few people around the camp, though the number had lowered to only a dozen or so, everyone else out scavenging for people or supplies. I grabbed some lunch and sat down on what was left of the curb outside of the hotel door, looking out at the crumbling buildings and forest at the edge of the field.
As I tucked into a simple sandwich of ham, lettuce, and tomato, I heard a commotion coming from the south. A large white truck slowly trundled over the grass, its bed filled with tools, furniture, and an overjoyed Dragonborn. Behind it was an even larger truck; this one was from a rental place and had a large water tank attached to the tail end.
Donny was back, and it looked like his task was successful. He even brought back extra credit. He joined me at the hotel once the vehicles settled into place, building his own sandwich piled high with meat and plopping down next to me.
“I take it you found your crafting supplies?”
“We did! Getting there and back wasn’t easy. We had to cut a path through some thicker parts of the forest. These new trees must be made of some tough stuff, as our chainsaws kept breaking over and over again. We went through something like four chains before we were finally finished.”
His description of the difficulty made me remember pushing my machete through one of the trees like it wasn’t even there. Was my ability just that strong? I’d have thought a chainsaw would be able to cut through them just fine.
Donny took a massive bite of his sandwich, cutting the inch-thick monstrosity nearly in half.
“Strange. What about the water truck? Was it just a lucky find?”
“Yep. Managed to pick it up on the way back. Looks like whoever it belonged to abandoned it when the second wave struck after they got marooned between two forest zones. It’s almost out of gas and the water tank is bone dry, but it can hold 2000 gallons. Should give us a decent stockpile.”
That was extremely fortunate and would go a long way to improving our living situation. It made me wonder how the other people in the city were faring. Austin was fairly large, after all. Nowhere near the biggest city in Texas, but large enough. It was starting to feel like our group was the only one around with how little interaction we’d gotten with other people.
“Say, Donny. You run into anyone while you were driving around?”
His expression turned sour.
“A few people, yeah. We offered to take them with us, but they turned us down. Looked like almost everyone was just staying inside with their own groups. What’s more, most places weren’t lucky enough to show up next to a nice open field. Almost the whole city is covered in dense trees making travel a huge pain, and it looks like the trees are still growing. I saw a few houses that had saplings growing right through their foundations, and the workshop where we got all of this stuff was covered in vines that were eating straight into the steel walls. I bet the workshop isn't even going to be there after a few days. These new plants are no joke.”
I imagined that the exotic flora was only one part of the problem. No one knew where anything was anymore, so they’d need to either go looking for somewhere to hold up, an inherently dangerous proposition, or just keep staying home. Also, most people didn’t live in downtown Austin, especially in our area.
There were a few small apartment buildings and townhomes scattered around our area, but it was mostly businesses. Most people lived outside the city and then commuted in for work. And, of course, I imagine that anyone that could have left the city when shit started getting bad likely did.
On top of that, the population density was just cut from that of a bustling metropolitan area to a rural town. And that was the best-case scenario. We’d need to go pretty far to find another large group; probably past the river, into south Austin, or out east towards whatever was left of the airport.
“Yikes. Any sign of more of those crazy people?”
Donny took another bite, finishing off the rest of his sandwich.
“Nothing directly, but I did see some graffiti that was strange. It had that symbol you mentioned, the upside-down trident, and the word ‘Gors’. Does that mean anything to you?”
“No, doesn’t sound familiar. Maybe it’s an acronym? The name of the group?”
He just shrugged and brushed some crumbs off his shoulder scales. Apparently, a snout did not lend itself well to clean eating.
“Maybe. So, how did your training go?”
I was happy about the change in topic, even though I was the one who brought up the crazy people in the first place. The idea of meeting more like those I had fought filled me with unease.
I gave Donny a run-down on how my combat training went, explaining how it was more like a guide on how to fight rather than a magic ability, and he listened with rapt attention. I was trying to get through my explanation quickly though.
In all honestly, I was raring to get back to training. There was something about feeling that instant improvement and success in real-time, to knowing exactly when you’ve gotten to the next level of personal skill. To understand that it was your ability, not one granted by the system, even though the system served as a guide.
It wasn’t like Storm Cloak or Eyes on the Road weren’t cool or useful. They just felt cheap. They had been given to me essentially for free, no questions asked. The improvements in my swordsmanship skill, on the other hand, felt earned.
Once we were done with lunch, Donny set off to get his workshop up and running, while I returned to my small clearing. I had just started to go through my forms again, making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything when I heard something rustling behind me. I turned, just in time to hear a piercing shriek from the forest.
Machete ready, I dashed into the trees.