Much as I tried, I wasn’t getting that [Sure step] evolution. It eluded me. Mud and puddles didn’t push my balance enough to cross the threshold into whatever it was that came next. For all I tripped and slipped in the mire, it didn’t actually hinder me much.
Having the sword explode in my face drove home just how dangerous mana weapons really were. I’d survived the blast on pure luck, sufficiently hidden behind the shield that I didn’t facetank the whole thing.
But that did waste one sword, and I was set on getting the second. Not to sell it to Methol—because fuck her—but because I wanted to break it into pieces and use them like little hand grenades.
The furnar deviant’s blade went up and I clenched for the blow.
[Eye track]
[Only fear the unseen blow for it is the only one worth fearing]
[The eye must be trusted]
[Drastically improve motion tracking across all perceivable wavelengths]
[Set a target and perceive its every discrete movement while this skill is active]
[COST: 10 MP / activation + 5 MP / second of activation time]
It came out of my [Sword aptitude] stack, following on the same branch as [Adrenaline surge].
The moment the mana sword went up, I did a few things in very, very quick succession.
Dropped the free skill point into [Eye track] and activated the instant MP regeneration.
Followed up with immediate activation of [Adrenaline surge] the very moment my MP climbed high enough. Instant MP regeneration did not actually mean instant, I realised in the moment as I tracked that sword coming down.
Funny how anxiety spikes so much more when you’re trying to follow a plan. No plan, no worries. Should’ve probably stuck with that, but now was too late.
The sword slashed down like lightning even in the dilated perception of the surge. It didn’t matter.
I wouldn’t risk the black sword exploding on contact again. My ribs hurt from the previous disaster and the shield was beyond saving. If I hadn’t activated [Iron flesh] the moment I’d figured my fuck up, the blast would’ve shattered my arm. Or blown off my head. Neither seemed survivable.
With heart thundering and muscles screaming in protest after all this effort, I executed the last part of the gambit: I raised my free hand and shoved as hard as I could into the furnar’s forearm, letting the skill knowledge guide me. Air swished by my ear as I turned in place, aided by the surge, and got the sword missing me by a millimetre. A fucking millimetre. It grazed the tiny little hairs on the lobe of my ear and nearly took my fucking shoulder off.
Melenith’s Ignis flashed to life in its reduced, bloodless form, and the furnar’s arm disappeared from elbow to wrist. The black sword dropped to the ground without a sound of protest from its master. It was too late for any sounds anyway, as I spun the blade around and slammed it into the deviant’s chest.
Half its torso disintegrated on impact. The rest melted to slag in the sword’s wake.
[Congratulations]
[You have defeated: Furnar consort deviant x1]
Well, I’d gained nothing from the fight except for the blade at my feet and the knowledge that I could hold my ground if need be. It would have to be enough for now.
[Area is now secured]
[Dungeon seal is now in effect]
[Thank you for your support, candidate]
Fucking finally!
I fist pumped the air and whooped with joy. Were I a better man, I wouldn’t have kicked the still twitching corpse of the deviant writhing on the ground as it decomposed.
When I turned to Methol, holding up the mana sword in triumph, she had a look on her face as if I’d kicked her dog. It took the whole wind out of my sails and I immediately looked around for other threats I may have missed.
I was alone in the churned mud. Nothing came from the forest. Nothing came from the village.
“What?” I shouted. “What happened?”
Nothing came from the village, but a crowd gathered at the gate. Two figures broke away from them and were making a beeline straight for me. Crystal and Tusk were almost running out of the village, as if chased out.
Murmuring reached me even at that distance. That wasn’t pleasant murmuring. Words on the edges of anger, barely contained shouts, some sort of fury that I couldn’t understand.
“Human idiot,” Crystal shouted above the gathering din. “What you do? You no know nothing?”
My eyebrows went as far up as they could go and I turned to Methol again. “What the fuck’s going on?”
She too was making a beeline towards me, in that half-running type of walk that wanted to look casual but ended up as anything but.
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“I suggest we get you away from here,” she said, voice urgent and serious. “You’ve stepped in it to the knee.”
“What did I do?!”
“Killed something unbelievably holy to them.”
She reached me, grabbed my hand, and yanked me towards the forest. Behind us, Crystal and Tusk were also running now, splashing mud everywhere as they caught up.
“But…” I stumbled over my feet and my words. “But it was a deviant. It’s not… real.” I halted hard on the word as if slapped with my own ignorance. “Right? It’s not real. It wasn’t a real furnar.”
Methol huffed, ears twitching back and forth like a cat’s. “Complicated. God incarnate. Punishment eternal. That sort of fire and brimstone belief. Furnars are complicated.”
“Deviants are not real creatures, Klaus,” Eternity provided as it swooped overhead, easily outpacing us. “They are mana constructs and return to mana once destroyed. There is no consciousness behind them.”
I chanced a look back, almost expecting a mob brandishing torches and pitchforks working its way across the moors, but was only met by a compact crowd blocking off the gate into the village. They did not look to be out on a pleasant afternoon stroll, but neither were they braying for blood.
“Why are they angry then? I’ve saved them.” This wasn’t making any sense. “Their village is okay now. Node’s sealed. They can rebuild.”
Crystal reached and passed us, short legs pumping as she ran on through the mud, going up the hill into the forest ahead of us.
Methol tried to explain as we were definitely not breaking into a run. “To furnars, their queen is their goddess. Her consorts are her will incarnate.”
“It’s precisely why I wanted to step in,” Methol huffed. “This is the third time this happens to me. Be thankful Harriet herself wasn’t out here to see you. I don’t recommend you return to this village anytime soon.”
We were already past the tree line and still going, Methol dragging me by the hand. Tusk waited ahead, saw us approach, then took off deeper into the Brightleaf. There went my hopes for rest, relaxation, and maybe a fucking hot bath. No food. No medicine. My bag was… fuck knew where. And I was left with nothing but my boxers, boots, gloves and swords. Fat load of good a second sword was going to do me.
“S?-mi bag pula…” I grumbled, stumbling over my feet to keep up.
I yanked my hand away from Methol’s and stopped to catch my breath. This was not fair! I’d bled so much for those people, been tossed around, stabbed, almost died in the mine. Twice! I had bruises, cuts, so many scars, and a new, healthy aversion to getting punched in the face.
And all that didn’t matter for shit because one of the creatures I’d killed happened to look like baby Jesus to them.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
I slammed my sword down into the ground and screamed. Inarticulate. Incoherent. It ricocheted off the trees. Just needed to get it out of me because otherwise the absurdity of it all threatened to make my brain swell up and explode.
“They’re mad because I killed a mana monster that looked like their… god?! They can’t… How… What?!”
Making sense was not on my priority list because the whole situation refused to make sense in the first place. I’d bled so much for this victory! Just to be chased out of the village like some thief?!
How was that even remotely fair?!
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Methol didn’t wait for me, her voice growing distant as she disappeared through the silver foliage. “This will not be the last time you’re run out of a village, I promise you.”
Lovely. Fucking lovely.
With no more audience save for whatever bugs crawled through the turf, I grabbed the sword and slunk after the rest. Thick forest on bare skin feels like sandpaper in your ass crack and I couldn’t help my mood souring like week-old milk by the time I caught up to Crystal. Even Eternity kept away from me.
We’d gone uphill almost the entire way. Looking back, I could just make out the village’s huts through some gaps in the forest, and the smoke signalling fires being lit and life restarting. Bitterness sat like coal in my stomach.
I hadn’t even gotten another piece of that jerky…
“What stinky human thinking?” Crystal launched into her verbal assault the moment I caught up with her. She had set down her pack on the ground and had a large bundle atop it. “Why you attack furnar lord? You no know nothing?”
“My name is Mud and I know jack shit,” I answered, too bitter to defend myself.
On reflex, I tried to sheath my sword at my waist. But I’d dropped the scabbard before the fight. Lovely. That was lost too.
“Mud? No. Your name Klaus and you a stupid human,” Crystal countered, levelling a beady-eyed glare my way.
“Fuck off,” I suggested, already past the point where I cared to be lectured. “How the fuck would I know they’re—”
I was going to say religious nuts but felt it a cruel reach. What did I know of customs and behaviours on this world? Frustration and all, I swallowed down the jibe before I spilled something I’d hate myself over.
Instead, I sunk the sword into the nearest tree and quietly fumed. For a brief moment I wanted to rage at Methol for not saying anything. But she had tried to stop me. Then I wanted to get angry at Eternity. But Eternity never tried to stop any harebrained idea I had.
Which only left me to be angry with myself. Which sucked. A lot.
“We probably should’ve warned you the furnars are a whole cultural thing,” Methol said from where she leaned against her own tree. “They won’t chase you down or something, if you’re wondering. You didn’t actually hurt any of them. But if you go back there anytime soon, expect to get pelted with stones.”
Ever appeared on her shoulder and leaned against her cheek. “We tried to distract them. It generally doesn’t work. They have an uncanny memory and ability to hold on to a thought even under the effect of some of the most powerful illusion magic. Methol, you’ve wasted that skill point; I only managed to get them past the gates before they were outraged again.”
Crystal picked up the bundle and threw it my way. I barely caught it.
“Here, Mud. Furnars finished before you did stupid thing.”
My eyebrows rose.
Rolled together, I found my scuffed jeans and black t-shirt in the bundle. Not patchwork but actually remade almost as good as new. How exactly that happened, I had no idea, but I’d never been happier to see my clothes in all my life—except maybe one time where I woke up in a ditch, bare-arsed, and found my stuff hanging off a nearby fence.
It had been November and really fucking cold.
A couple minutes later, I felt human again. The fabric was almost perfectly the same as it had been on the first day I’d gotten the things. Lovely work. Uncanny work for people without an interface.
Then felt doubly human when Methol made my whole backpack appear out of thin air.
“I grabbed it earlier,” she said when I goggled. “Drew it into my reality marble. And this is also yours.”
I got my scabbard back, belt and all. I admit it took the edge off my anger, at least enough that I didn’t fume anymore. I still didn’t have any food since my old one was mostly spoiled by the earlier spill. Before I went ahead to deal with that, somehow, I tapped my shoulder for Eternity to land on it.
“Did you talk to the villagers to get help from Eklil?”
“I have. They are open to buy food from the iepurrans. I have given them directions based on your map.” It shrugged. “They do not want us as intermediaries and will send a group to negotiate. Do not ask me to explain their reasons.”
Well, that was a done thing at least. In spite of this setback, the furnars at least had a chance to recover without more grief. Eklil would see to it if given the chance.
“So… where’s that tree you threatened to throw me at?” I asked Methol. “I need a good vantage point.”
“Looking for the next node?”
“Pretty much. Work here’s done. May as well keep moving.” I shrugged as I picked up my pack. It seemed lighter somewhat, though the inventory didn’t show any changes. My strength had increased though. “No reason to linger where I’m not wanted, right?”
Methol exchanged a look with Ever, part exasperation, part amusement. “He’s definitely in the right percentile,” the drake-born said. “Finished a gruelling bit of adventuring and is already off towards the next one. Take a moment, Klaus. Go fishing or something. Rest. You need to give yourself time to recover.”
“Crystal know place for fishing,” the gnark piped up. “Follow. Good place. Lots of fishes. Good and fat. Come come.”
It would’ve been nice if she and Tusk had at least waited for a confirmation. Instead, they just turned and went right up the hill, not really caring if we followed or not. I shared a look with Methol. We both smiled. Guess we were gonna go fish.
“Come on,” she said as she took off after the gnark. “I’ll teach you how to fish.”
“Excuse you,” I huffed. “I’ll have you know I’m a very good fisherman.”
“A gold coin says you’re full of shit.”
“You’re on.”
So, we went fishing. And it went horribly for me. Because of course it would.