Over the next two weeks there was only one bandit raid on the Johns and Josh caravan. Wolf joined in on the fighting and killed a couple of bandits, but didn’t run rampant.
While this period was quite uneventful for the caravan guards, Archibald and Wolf were very excited about their personal developments.
The most important thing was the fact that the decay of Archibald’s soul had completely been halted and he started recovering. The lethargy and desire for sleep, which he’d been battling secretly, were now completely driven away, and he could function normally.
It might not sound like much, but to Archibald, not having an inner struggle every hour meant a lot. Especially since the conflict was about whether whatever he was doing was really worth him staying awake.
Just by not having to second guess himself over such a trivial thing meant a huge weight was lifted off the big man’s shoulders, which in turn considerably improved Archibald’s mood.
The second major event during this calm period was that Wolf drank the potions gifted by Red. This was enough to push the boy to the Fourth Order of Sword-Sage and unlock a number of maneuvers from his memory.
In an environment with abundant World Energy this would have been a joyous occasion. However, out here, in the middle of nowhere, the only thing Wolf felt was discomfort and fatigue. It took ten days of regularly eating that dragon-blood bear’s flesh just to get to the point where Wolf wasn’t feeling enervated all the time.
His fatigue was the reason why he’d killed less than half a dozen bandits in the ambush.
Archibald’d been grumbling for days that the boy should just take one of the Least Energy Recovery potions they had, but Wolf stubbornly refused. Those were Archibald’s medicine.
Wolf had realized that, due to his father's constitution, the bear meat didn’t have as much effect on him. So to optimize his father’s time and Soul Force recovery those potions were the way to go, while Wolf would eat the meat.
He found the whole thing strange. When advancing his Sword-Sage Order Wolf noticed that his Internal Energy capacity increased by sixty percent. But that wasn’t the problem. In fact, it was a good thing. The issue was that once Wolf’s Sword-Sage Order increased, the effectiveness of extracting energy from the Monster Beast meat decreased by some thirty percent or so.
The boy’d learned first hand that growing in an impoverished environment limited you and stunted your ability to grow. If only there was more ambient World Energy here, he was certain he wouldn’t have needed as much time to fill up his Internal Energy reserve.
Finally, after suffering lethargy and tummy-aches from overeating for ten days, Wolf’s Internal Energy was three-quarters full. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but at least he could act freely once more, which came in handy three days later.
***
The horse-drawn wagon was bumping up and down, just as it did any other day. Archibald had stopped muttering and complaining about the abysmal state of the road on the second day. He had more important things to take care of than cursing the new Duke. In fact he had better reasons to curse the new Duke Northshield.
The big man sat comfortably, his eyes closed as if he was lightly napping. From time to time he’d sip on the Energy Recovery potion, then use the technique Wolf had taught him for creating Internal Energy. Once he’d stashed enough Internal Energy, Archibald would hurriedly circulate his Internal Energy according to the second technique his son had taught him.
Even he could tell how much he was wasting. The first time was even worse. He drank the entire potion vial, then tried to convert it into Internal Energy. But halfway through he realized that the more Internal Energy he had the quicker it leaked out of his body.
So, he focused on converting Internal Energy into Soul Force. Once that was done, Archibald tried to use the rest of the energy from the potion, but found that it was gone. Ever since he experimented, and found that sipping the potions bit by bit every twenty minutes was the optimal way of doing things.
While doing his relaxed routine, the big man heard shouting outside. Archibald’s eyes shot open, but by the time he reacted Wolf was already standing at the flap of the waxed fabric.
“It’s all right dad. You focus on meditating, I’ll take care of this,” the boy said while smiling reassuringly. Then he jumped out.
Archibald blinked with confusion, then smiled proudly.
He looked kind of heroic. He thought. No, it wasn’t kind of heroic. Wolf looked like a hero there. Even though he’s just a child he nailed that look and reassuring air.
Thinking that your child could pass for a hero is reason enough for a man like Archibald to be happy.
***
While the big man once more focused on his meditation with a proud smile on his face, Wolf was also smiling.
The boy felt excited. He could now put to use those new maneuvers he’d learned.
As he ran he even cast a Subtle Swift Escape. He didn’t want to be late for the party. Despite its name, and intended use, the spell was actually phenomenal for melee combat. Doubling the speed at which you moved for a longish period of time was insane.
Swiftness was an advanced version with a significantly better effect, but it lasted only a fraction of the time. Wolf had a Subtle one ready just in case, but he should first join the fray.
A couple of wagons ahead, Wolf could hear the same nonsense shouting that happened the last time they ran into brigands.
Your money or your life, Wolf thought about those words. What sort of nonsense was that? What kind of claim do these bandits have on other people’s belongings or their lives? Besides, if they want to fight they should fight, not shout random inquiries. Why do they do it? The only thing they are achieving is giving the caravan guards some time to organize…
Luckily for Wolf, by the time he reached the front of the caravan, the fighting hadn’t even started yet.
“Look, just give us the money,” the elderly man said with undisguised desperation.
He was standing in front of a group of dirty, underfed people armed with axes and pitchforks. It really was a sorry sight. There were quite a few people in the group, close to fifty of them.
However, the man couldn’t finish what he was saying. A ten-year-old child burst out of the caravan he and his friends had stopped.
The kid jumped, and an extravagant silver sword appeared in his hand.
*Crunch!*
The boy’s feet slammed into the speaker’s sternum, shattering it. Blood gushed out of the old man’s mouth. He didn’t even get to shout before the sword’s tip found his eye socket.
“Aaaaa! Aaaaaa!” Half the bandits started screaming in panic, a couple even fainted from the gory sight.
Ignoring them, Wolf swung his sword in a downward cleave. In a shower of blood, another bandit was slashed in two.
Neat! Leopard’s Pounce is a great way to initiate combat, while the Beast-lord’s Cleave really can split a man in half!
While Wolf was thinking about his maneuvers with fascination the bandits were paralyzed from shock. It wasn’t just them. The caravan guards were also disturbed by the gory display. The young adventurer gagged, and turned away from the sight. Even Red seemed uncomfortable seeing a human bisected, making a sight that looked like a balloon of blood had popped.
True, Red would’ve had these people killed, but the way Wolf went about it was too traumatizing.
And now, from Beast-lord’s Cleave into the Charging Bull’s Pierce, Wolf thought without a care in the world as he dashed into yet another would-be bandit, this time his sword held like a spear.
*Spurt!*
The silver sword pierced through the man’s chest, followed by a dying scream.
“Nope… not good…” Wolf muttered as the scream shocked everyone back to reality.
The bandits started wailing and running away, but some of them shouted in rage. They ran towards Wolf, and stabbed at the boy with their pitchforks turned pole-arm.
Wolf snorted. These people actually dared attack instead of run?
Well, it’s commendable to face death head on. I hope they have better luck in their next lives. With those arrogant thoughts Wolf practiced his maneuvers, and sent blood and limbs flying. He considered whether or not to cast that Subtle Swiftness. Almost immediately he decided that this practice session wasn’t worth spending the Soul Force to cast a Fourth Order spell.
In a flash he finished off the four men who’d attacked him. Then, without pausing for a moment, Wolf gave chase after the others.
All the while he was saying things along the lines of “Good” and “Not good”.
The caravan guards stared dumbly as the child covered inhuman distances in a leap, and ended lives with nothing but a single slash or stab. The extent of damage he dealt was the most horrifying thing about the scene.
Wolf’s stabs weren’t just a blade into flesh. They blasted open circular holes wherever he pierced. His slashes were graceful and fluid. They made human bodies seem like they couldn’t offer any resistance before the silvery-blue blade.
Fortunately for the bandits, most of them had scattered. After hunting down about a dozen men, Wolf returned to the caravan with a satisfied smile on his blood splattered face.
This little exercise had netted him with a decent amount of practical experience. At worst he figured out how to properly use a maneuver on the second try. This kind of insight and talent would stupefy other Sword-Sages, but Wolf found it normal. His past self could do these things easily, and even without that Wolf had vague memories of a lifetime he’d spent as a Sword-Sage in that dreamscape.
As he passed the guards, Wolf spotted the young man Mark, as people called the youthful adventurer. Mark was once again retching. Just like when he stuffed himself with the poisonous stew…
Wolf shot the idiot a disdainful look. Mark didn’t get to see it, but Red and his fellows did. That look of contempt, together with Wolf’s excited shouts and happy smile, painted a rather different picture from what had really happened.
Wolf went back to his wagon, and then dropped the act of a mighty hero he believed he was putting on.
He felt exhausted. Even though he properly chained the maneuvers, some Internal Energy was wasted with every blow. Wolf was now right back where he’d started after he’d advanced his Order. He was left with just a bit more than half his maximum Internal Energy.
Archibald calmly opened his eyes when the boy walked in.
“How did it go?” he asked as if he was inquiring about the weather.
He’d heard the screams, but wasn’t worried at all. Wolf’s previous battle with bandits gave him a rough idea of his son’s power, and was assured of the boy’s safety.
“I’m exhausted. I’ve barely killed seventeen of them this time. But I wasted a lot of Internal Energy. I don’t think fighting using maneuvers is the way to go. It’s too difficult to recuperate the Internal Energy you spend.” Wolf said thoughtfully after casting Clean, and removing blood from himself and his precious robe.
Archibald frowned.
That’s way too many. He probably chased after the bandits after the guards had dropped their pursuit.
“Son, remember not to go too far away when chasing bandits. They could set up an ambush, and losing your life over chasing some lowlifes isn’t worth it.” Archibald preached while shaking his finger.
“Don’t worry dad. I fully awakened my senses when fighting. I would’ve easily spotted an ambush. And I came back after I was five hundred meters away from the caravan.” I couldn’t leave you alone… But Wolf didn’t say that part.
Archibald nodded in approval, and closed his eyes, promptly forgetting the entire affair.
He did feel a bit guilty for pushing his son into a situation like this. He’d never expected that he’d still be alive, and more importantly not dying.
If he had known things would turn out like this, he never would’ve had Wolf incinerate those bandits in Iceowl. If he now started preaching that killing was wrong, what about when the boy entered the Mage Academy? What about the people his son had already killed? Better not to be a hypocrite, nor to send mixed signals. The fact was that this was a dog eat dog world, and it would be best for his son to be the top dog, well, top wolf…
Archibald’s lessons:
If you’re preparing for battle your should also prepare your spells accordingly. When expecting masses of weaker enemies focus on spells with wider range, but smaller destructive power. When battling a single strong opponent focus on power at the cost of everything else. Those Subtle spells you came up with would come in very useful.
Over the next two weeks there was only one bandit raid on the Johns and Josh caravan. Wolf joined in on the fighting and killed a couple of bandits, but didn’t run rampant.
While this period was quite uneventful for the caravan guards, Archibald and Wolf were very excited about their personal developments.
The most important thing was the fact that the decay of Archibald’s soul had completely been halted and he started recovering. The lethargy and desire for sleep, which he’d been battling secretly, were now completely driven away, and he could function normally.
It might not sound like much, but to Archibald, not having an inner struggle every hour meant a lot. Especially since the conflict was about whether whatever he was doing was really worth him staying awake.
Just by not having to second guess himself over such a trivial thing meant a huge weight was lifted off the big man’s shoulders, which in turn considerably improved Archibald’s mood.
The second major event during this calm period was that Wolf drank the potions gifted by Red. This was enough to push the boy to the Fourth Order of Sword-Sage and unlock a number of maneuvers from his memory.
In an environment with abundant World Energy this would have been a joyous occasion. However, out here, in the middle of nowhere, the only thing Wolf felt was discomfort and fatigue. It took ten days of regularly eating that dragon-blood bear’s flesh just to get to the point where Wolf wasn’t feeling enervated all the time.
His fatigue was the reason why he’d killed less than half a dozen bandits in the ambush.
Archibald’d been grumbling for days that the boy should just take one of the Least Energy Recovery potions they had, but Wolf stubbornly refused. Those were Archibald’s medicine.
Wolf had realized that, due to his father's constitution, the bear meat didn’t have as much effect on him. So to optimize his father’s time and Soul Force recovery those potions were the way to go, while Wolf would eat the meat.
He found the whole thing strange. When advancing his Sword-Sage Order Wolf noticed that his Internal Energy capacity increased by sixty percent. But that wasn’t the problem. In fact, it was a good thing. The issue was that once Wolf’s Sword-Sage Order increased, the effectiveness of extracting energy from the Monster Beast meat decreased by some thirty percent or so.
The boy’d learned first hand that growing in an impoverished environment limited you and stunted your ability to grow. If only there was more ambient World Energy here, he was certain he wouldn’t have needed as much time to fill up his Internal Energy reserve.
Finally, after suffering lethargy and tummy-aches from overeating for ten days, Wolf’s Internal Energy was three-quarters full. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but at least he could act freely once more, which came in handy three days later.
***
The horse-drawn wagon was bumping up and down, just as it did any other day. Archibald had stopped muttering and complaining about the abysmal state of the road on the second day. He had more important things to take care of than cursing the new Duke. In fact he had better reasons to curse the new Duke Northshield.
The big man sat comfortably, his eyes closed as if he was lightly napping. From time to time he’d sip on the Energy Recovery potion, then use the technique Wolf had taught him for creating Internal Energy. Once he’d stashed enough Internal Energy, Archibald would hurriedly circulate his Internal Energy according to the second technique his son had taught him.
Even he could tell how much he was wasting. The first time was even worse. He drank the entire potion vial, then tried to convert it into Internal Energy. But halfway through he realized that the more Internal Energy he had the quicker it leaked out of his body.
So, he focused on converting Internal Energy into Soul Force. Once that was done, Archibald tried to use the rest of the energy from the potion, but found that it was gone. Ever since he experimented, and found that sipping the potions bit by bit every twenty minutes was the optimal way of doing things.
While doing his relaxed routine, the big man heard shouting outside. Archibald’s eyes shot open, but by the time he reacted Wolf was already standing at the flap of the waxed fabric.
“It’s all right dad. You focus on meditating, I’ll take care of this,” the boy said while smiling reassuringly. Then he jumped out.
Archibald blinked with confusion, then smiled proudly.
He looked kind of heroic. He thought. No, it wasn’t kind of heroic. Wolf looked like a hero there. Even though he’s just a child he nailed that look and reassuring air.
Thinking that your child could pass for a hero is reason enough for a man like Archibald to be happy.
***
While the big man once more focused on his meditation with a proud smile on his face, Wolf was also smiling.
The boy felt excited. He could now put to use those new maneuvers he’d learned.
As he ran he even cast a Subtle Swift Escape. He didn’t want to be late for the party. Despite its name, and intended use, the spell was actually phenomenal for melee combat. Doubling the speed at which you moved for a longish period of time was insane.
Swiftness was an advanced version with a significantly better effect, but it lasted only a fraction of the time. Wolf had a Subtle one ready just in case, but he should first join the fray.
A couple of wagons ahead, Wolf could hear the same nonsense shouting that happened the last time they ran into brigands.
Your money or your life, Wolf thought about those words. What sort of nonsense was that? What kind of claim do these bandits have on other people’s belongings or their lives? Besides, if they want to fight they should fight, not shout random inquiries. Why do they do it? The only thing they are achieving is giving the caravan guards some time to organize…
Luckily for Wolf, by the time he reached the front of the caravan, the fighting hadn’t even started yet.
“Look, just give us the money,” the elderly man said with undisguised desperation.
He was standing in front of a group of dirty, underfed people armed with axes and pitchforks. It really was a sorry sight. There were quite a few people in the group, close to fifty of them.
However, the man couldn’t finish what he was saying. A ten-year-old child burst out of the caravan he and his friends had stopped.
The kid jumped, and an extravagant silver sword appeared in his hand.
*Crunch!*
The boy’s feet slammed into the speaker’s sternum, shattering it. Blood gushed out of the old man’s mouth. He didn’t even get to shout before the sword’s tip found his eye socket.
“Aaaaa! Aaaaaa!” Half the bandits started screaming in panic, a couple even fainted from the gory sight.
Ignoring them, Wolf swung his sword in a downward cleave. In a shower of blood, another bandit was slashed in two.
Neat! Leopard’s Pounce is a great way to initiate combat, while the Beast-lord’s Cleave really can split a man in half!
While Wolf was thinking about his maneuvers with fascination the bandits were paralyzed from shock. It wasn’t just them. The caravan guards were also disturbed by the gory display. The young adventurer gagged, and turned away from the sight. Even Red seemed uncomfortable seeing a human bisected, making a sight that looked like a balloon of blood had popped.
True, Red would’ve had these people killed, but the way Wolf went about it was too traumatizing.
And now, from Beast-lord’s Cleave into the Charging Bull’s Pierce, Wolf thought without a care in the world as he dashed into yet another would-be bandit, this time his sword held like a spear.
*Spurt!*
The silver sword pierced through the man’s chest, followed by a dying scream.
“Nope… not good…” Wolf muttered as the scream shocked everyone back to reality.
The bandits started wailing and running away, but some of them shouted in rage. They ran towards Wolf, and stabbed at the boy with their pitchforks turned pole-arm.
Wolf snorted. These people actually dared attack instead of run?
Well, it’s commendable to face death head on. I hope they have better luck in their next lives. With those arrogant thoughts Wolf practiced his maneuvers, and sent blood and limbs flying. He considered whether or not to cast that Subtle Swiftness. Almost immediately he decided that this practice session wasn’t worth spending the Soul Force to cast a Fourth Order spell.
In a flash he finished off the four men who’d attacked him. Then, without pausing for a moment, Wolf gave chase after the others.
All the while he was saying things along the lines of “Good” and “Not good”.
The caravan guards stared dumbly as the child covered inhuman distances in a leap, and ended lives with nothing but a single slash or stab. The extent of damage he dealt was the most horrifying thing about the scene.
Wolf’s stabs weren’t just a blade into flesh. They blasted open circular holes wherever he pierced. His slashes were graceful and fluid. They made human bodies seem like they couldn’t offer any resistance before the silvery-blue blade.
Fortunately for the bandits, most of them had scattered. After hunting down about a dozen men, Wolf returned to the caravan with a satisfied smile on his blood splattered face.
This little exercise had netted him with a decent amount of practical experience. At worst he figured out how to properly use a maneuver on the second try. This kind of insight and talent would stupefy other Sword-Sages, but Wolf found it normal. His past self could do these things easily, and even without that Wolf had vague memories of a lifetime he’d spent as a Sword-Sage in that dreamscape.
As he passed the guards, Wolf spotted the young man Mark, as people called the youthful adventurer. Mark was once again retching. Just like when he stuffed himself with the poisonous stew…
Wolf shot the idiot a disdainful look. Mark didn’t get to see it, but Red and his fellows did. That look of contempt, together with Wolf’s excited shouts and happy smile, painted a rather different picture from what had really happened.
Wolf went back to his wagon, and then dropped the act of a mighty hero he believed he was putting on.
He felt exhausted. Even though he properly chained the maneuvers, some Internal Energy was wasted with every blow. Wolf was now right back where he’d started after he’d advanced his Order. He was left with just a bit more than half his maximum Internal Energy.
Archibald calmly opened his eyes when the boy walked in.
“How did it go?” he asked as if he was inquiring about the weather.
He’d heard the screams, but wasn’t worried at all. Wolf’s previous battle with bandits gave him a rough idea of his son’s power, and was assured of the boy’s safety.
“I’m exhausted. I’ve barely killed seventeen of them this time. But I wasted a lot of Internal Energy. I don’t think fighting using maneuvers is the way to go. It’s too difficult to recuperate the Internal Energy you spend.” Wolf said thoughtfully after casting Clean, and removing blood from himself and his precious robe.
Archibald frowned.
That’s way too many. He probably chased after the bandits after the guards had dropped their pursuit.
“Son, remember not to go too far away when chasing bandits. They could set up an ambush, and losing your life over chasing some lowlifes isn’t worth it.” Archibald preached while shaking his finger.
“Don’t worry dad. I fully awakened my senses when fighting. I would’ve easily spotted an ambush. And I came back after I was five hundred meters away from the caravan.” I couldn’t leave you alone… But Wolf didn’t say that part.
Archibald nodded in approval, and closed his eyes, promptly forgetting the entire affair.
He did feel a bit guilty for pushing his son into a situation like this. He’d never expected that he’d still be alive, and more importantly not dying.
If he had known things would turn out like this, he never would’ve had Wolf incinerate those bandits in Iceowl. If he now started preaching that killing was wrong, what about when the boy entered the Mage Academy? What about the people his son had already killed? Better not to be a hypocrite, nor to send mixed signals. The fact was that this was a dog eat dog world, and it would be best for his son to be the top dog, well, top wolf…
Archibald’s lessons:
If you’re preparing for battle your should also prepare your spells accordingly. When expecting masses of weaker enemies focus on spells with wider range, but smaller destructive power. When battling a single strong opponent focus on power at the cost of everything else. Those Subtle spells you came up with would come in very useful.
