“Again.” Brannoc passed on the patio as he watched the three of them spar.

  Greg could not remove the stupid grin from his face, even as he was bobbing into and out of range of Clover’s hammer. He’d just breached the precipice of peak human speed, and then dumped all three of his free points into dexterity for good measure. Boy, could he feel it! Nothing like the superhuman levels that he’d seen from Doran and his team, but almost doubling down on his highest stat made dodging the heavy weapon a breeze. The fire was another story entirely.

  He landed several quick strikes on Clover, leaving her skin welted and glowing. Ricard was much faster than his partner, but letting off gouts of flame in Greg’s direction while he was actively fighting her was a good way to light the Titanblood on fire and not him. He alternated between trying to help Clover fight in close quarters, and backing off to line up a shot.

  Volatility—30 of 100

  Greg dropped beneath a wild swing of the hammer and glanced up at Ricard, fire already gushing from an open palm. The flame licked the packed dirt, lighting what little dead grass was left over from their months of near constant training. Greg left nothing behind but a faint, shadowy silhouette.

  A trepidatious quiet suddenly hung over the large yard as Clover stepped forward and batted her hand through the shadowy substance. It dissipated like smoke, and she muttered a string of curses under her breath.

  “Did you just roast Greg?”

  The teleportation itself was basically instant, but the lightheadedness took a second to shake off. Greg had never been a space guy, but the chill that radiated from his bones as he reappeared behind Ricard was what he imagined the temperature of the vacuum of space to be. He brought his sword up and popped him on the back of his head with the pommel.

  “Owe!” Ricard called out, hands flying up to cover the quickly rising knot.

  “Wh…you can teleport?” Clover complained. “How is that fair?! I’ve been training for years! This guy gets three months and he can fucking blink around?”

  The corner of Brannoc’s mouth turned up, and he slowly clapped.

  The three of them continued training for several hours, despite Clover’s initial complaints, she was integral in helping him find the perfect points to utilize the disorienting new ability. Its range wasn’t great, but it was perfect for dodging big hits and putting him in the perfect position to counterstrike. Once they’d been dismissed, the teens left, and Brannoc led him inside.

  “Seems like you made a smart decision.” The elf eased himself into his rocking chair and exhaled the fire from his lungs into the fireplace. “Speed has drastically improved, and the teleport is an interesting wrinkle.”

  “Thanks,” Greg said, taking his seat on the couch across from him. “It was this or gravity mage.”

  Brannoc gave a slight chuckle as he lit his pipe and pulled air through it. “I’ve been thinking about your predicament. Nobody can tell you why you were summoned except the god that did it, but we can make an educated guess.”

  “Okay.” Greg gnawed at the inside of his cheek. He’d been warned not to say anything, but the secret was fresh and ready to boil over. What harm could it do? Hey Brannoc, your dead wife lives in my head and already speculated what I was summoned for.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Isabella’s whisper sounded in his head as a little text box popped up at the bottom of his vision like subtitles just in case he missed it.

  “It’s gotta be to do with the frost. I’ve talked to a few of the justicars and they’re saying it’s being made locally. Didn’t want to divulge any other information, but I assume that means they’ve got the docks under heavy monitoring.”

  “Well, he’s on the right track at least,” Isabella said.

  “So what? We start busting drug dealers until we find the source?” Greg raised an eyebrow. Seemed weirdly like tactics Earth cops would use, but if it worked who was he to argue.

  “We?” A cloud of smoke burst from his nostrils as he exhaled a quick laugh. “You will. If I go out and start roughing up street level thugs there will be a problem.”

  “Why?”

  Brannoc lifted his hands, using them like the baskets of a balance scale. He lowered one side. “Any low-level street thug is going to be much weaker than I am. If I start applying pressure…” He lifted the other side so they were even again. “The other side will naturally apply more until its even, or worse. I’m not trying to start a war in the streets.”

  “So you’re saying I’m weak enough that anybody powerful behind these people is going to brush me off as some nobody?” Greg clarrified.

  “Exactly,” Isabella and Brannoc said simultaneously.

  “Wow.” He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Feels good. Thanks, Mr. Miyagi.”

  Brannoc rolled his eyes and hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the front door. “Go get my jacket.”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Greg got up and retrieved the fur-lined leather duster, offering it to the man, but he didn’t take it.

  “Use that fancy scanning ability you got on it.”

  Greg furrowed his brow, but shrugged and scanned the jacket.

  Scanning…

  Brannoc Stroud’s Leather Duster

  Rarity:

  Unique Lineage Item

  Description:

  Lined with the fur of a Ashlands Direwolf, this duster renders you immune to weather effects. Additionally, acts as magical leather armor, protecting you from most piercing, slashing, and blunt damage from non-magical sources. Its pockets act as a small extradimensional space.

  This is a lineage item. Its previous owner has relinquished his right to it in favor of giving it to GREG NORWOOD. Any upgrades or new abilities granted by the previous version of Brannoc Stroud’s Leather Duster have been purged.

  LINEAGE ITEMS

  Lineage items are Dragonheart Artifacts that have been crafted for a specific person. These items increase in power with the individual and can scale indefinitely.

  A sniffle echoed in his mind as he looked up at Brannoc. “I don’t understand. Why would you give me this?”

  Brannoc raised a bushy brow in his direction as he blew smoke from his nostrils. “You can put it back if you don’t want it.”

  “No!” Greg said holding it up with one hand, and wiping at his eyes with the other. “I-I do. Thank you.”

  Brannoc nodded at the coat. “One more thing in the pocket.”

  “More?” Greg let out a little laugh before clearing his throat and reaching into the pocket. Sifting through the jacket did not feel like going through his inventory. This felt less like a vacuous infinite space, and more like he was blindly searching through a broom closet. His fingers grasped metal and slowly lifted it from the pocket.

  A modestly weighted pommel emerged first, then the hilt wrapped in freshly oiled leather. It was soft to the touch, but firm, unlike the well-worn leather of the jacket. Its guard was a simple asymmetric basket of blackened steel and ended at a blade thinner and slightly more flexible than he was used to. The dark steel seemed to drink in the firelight, never reflecting it…only growing darker.

  Scanning…

  Light Drinker Rapier

  Rarity:

  Uncommon

  Description:

  Made from strange metal found in a meteor, this rapier absorbs light from any source. As long as Light Drinker is on your person, you can see through natural and magical darkness. Should you be separated from the blade for more than five seconds, it will reappear in its scabbard.

  Increase luck statistic by 2

  Greg tucked his lips between his teeth and swallowed hard. “You got me magic items?”

  “Don’t get all blubbery on me. You made it this far without dying. Thought it deserved a reward.” Brannoc turned away from him to look into the fire again.

  “Big softy,” Isabella whispered. He was pretty sure a soul couldn’t cry, but she certainly sounded like she was on the verge of it.

  Greg sat the jacket and rapier down on the couch behind him and slowly walked up to the man rocking back and forth in his chair. When Brannoc glanced up at him from under angled brows, he reached down and wrapped his arms around the large man. His teacher stiffened under his grip, but eventually relaxed.

  A meaty hand patted his forearm after a minute or so. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” Once Greg let go, Brannoc straightened out his shirt again and took another puff from his pipe. “So, your new contract is from me. You’re going to hit the streets. Find a lead on where the frost is coming from, and once you do come back to me. Training is over until the contract is complete. Don’t come back without a lead.”

  ###

  New Quest

  Find a Lead

  Frost is flooding the streets

  Find a source of information on its trade and report back to Brannoc.

  Reward:

  Continued training with Brannoc Stroud

  “I can’t believe he just gave me this coat.” Greg said, fingers digging into the thick fur lining as he pulled it taught against his body. The moment he’d put on the old duster, it’s magic had shrunk it down to his size. Were it still sized for Brannoc, he’d certainly look like a toddler put on daddy’s jacket.

  “I told you he’s developed a soft spot for you.” Isabella said. “He always wanted children. We talked about adopting a few times, but the adventuring life was very hectic.”

  “I’m thirty-four years old.” Greg turned down an alley, taking a shortcut toward the docks and his eventual destination. “I’m not a child.”

  “Brannoc is over seven hundred years old. I was two hundred fifty-five when I died.”

  Greg grimaced and shook his head. “I thought you said you left Earth in the sixties? How does that math work?”

  “I never pinned down the intricacies of time travel, but once you’ve got Gifted blood, aging doesn’t work the same. There are those of us out there who are thousands of years old. Not many, mind you. We mostly die to the hazards of the lifestyle. Don’t find many gifted that want to sit back and relax for eons.”

  “Okay, that’s new information.” Greg scratched at his scalp, further messing up his already frizzled hair. “Why couldn’t you guys have children then?”

  “We could have.” Isabella sighed, which made a chill run down his spine like someone was breathing down it. “Especially after Killean took a break to raise Maeve. I was deep in my research, though. It was taking me all over Etheon…I didn’t have time for pregnancy or child rearing. I’m sad I couldn’t give that to Brannoc, but I don’t regret it either.”

  “I can respect that. I never saw myself as being a father. My dad…”

  “Who are you talking to, freak?!” They’d stepped out of the alley and into the docks proper when the nasally voice called out from ahead of them.

  Greg took a deep breath and plastered a smug corner of the mouth grin on his face. Ahead of them, Horatio Rillon stepped strode toward them, one of his everpresent goons at his side while the other shut the heavy double doors of a warehouse they were exiting.

  “Horace? Is that you? The guy that works at Adventurer Supply?!” Greg gave an over-the-top surprised expression. “Good to see you again.”

  Horatio shook his head, clicking his tongue at him. “Not this time, Greg. See, I’ve learned your game. You say outlandish things to try to get under my skin and throw me off balance.”

  Greg pursed his lips and shook his head. “I’ve got no idea what you mean. That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” The second bodyguard caught up, cracking his knuckles like some kind of cartoon evil henchman.

  “I told you Stroud wouldn’t be able to save you next time we met.” Horatio was within feet of him now, fingers tightening around his blade. “I want my apology.”

  “No judgement, but how much is your pride worth?” Isabella’s voice sounded in his head.

  How much was his pride worth? Was he a proud man? He swallowed hard as Horatio stopped a stride away and pointed to the ground.

  “A normal apology would have sufficed before, but now I want to see you grovel.” He sneered.

  While the question of his pride was still up in the air, Greg was certain of one thing. He wasn’t going to grovel. Setting his feet, he let the sly grin crawl back onto his lips. “Oh, I get it. I apologize.” Nodding slowly, Greg indicated the flesh mountains on either side of him. “I made a mistake. I thought your balls hadn’t dropped. Turns out you had them surgically removed and pumped full of roids.”