Book 2. Chapter 26

Book 2. Chapter 26

Brin did not beat Davi for the first time. Like always, Davi won with overbearing humility. He knocked Brin into the dirt again and again, without ever hitting harder than he absolutely needed to or taking any cheap shots.

His fighting ability did see a marked improvement, though. Using [Directed Meditation] didn’t make him stronger or faster per se, but it did make him better. In a state of total focus, he read Davi’s movements better. His movements were smoother, more intentional, rather than the panicked swinging and flinching that often came up in the heat of the moment.

He thought he might’ve scored a few hits if not for Davi’s strength. The Prefit’s “a pound of strength is worth ten pounds of skill” was a frustrating fact of life. It didn’t matter how much better he got if Davi could simply bowl straight through every parry with gentle yet overwhelming force.

Davi held a hand out to help Brin to his feet after a particularly quick foot sweep had knocked the air out of him.

“You’re getting a lot better,” said Davi encouragingly. “You’d already be beating me half the time if you were stronger.”

“You are getting better. Somehow you got a lot better overnight,” said Hogg, except he had a sour look on his face like he thought Brin had something to apologize for. He nodded, “Go again.”

Brin picked up his practice sword, and squared off. He waited for Hogg to start the fight, but blocked off everything else, going deep into [Directed Meditation]. The word “go” and then the fight. Nothing else existed in the entire world. He waited, single-minded, body primed for action.

Something hard hit him in the stomach, winding him and knocking him to the ground. He lost all of his concentration, but why? Davi hadn’t moved. He saw Hogg standing over him with a thick quarterstaff in his hands.

“What was that for?”

Hogg snorted a laugh. Brin looked at Davi, but rather than being offended on his behalf, the big guy looked confused. “Why did you just stand there?”

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t sneak up on you or anything. Like this,” said Davi. He mimed putting his quarterstaff in the air and taking a few practice half-swings like a golfer would do. Then he swung straight through.

Brin shook his head. “Oh.”

“He doesn’t remember. He’s using some kind of concentration Skill. Am I right?” said Hogg, who of course knew he was right. His [Inspect] could see everything.

“[Directed Meditation],” said Brin.

“That’s the problem. Well, it can be pretty good for a training tool, but never use it in a real fight. Combat is all about information, and when you’re that focused on the enemy in front of you that you’ll lose the ability to notice if the situation has changed. And let me tell you something: the situation always changes. Everyone has some kind of trick or trap up their sleeve, and no one wants to fight alone. They’ll always bring in an ally if they can. You need to be thinking. Always thinking.”

“Alright, let’s try one without the Skill,” said Brin.

“Nah,” said Hogg. “Keep using it in training. I just wanted to make a point. That Skill is helping you do things the right way. It’s good to make sure to do things the right way when you practice. Your body will remember what it feels like to do things right and you’ll carry that into real life.”

“Then why did you hit me with that stick?” asked Brin.

“Just making a point. Your body will remember that lesson, too.”

Brin sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry about using a Skill without telling you,” he said to Davi.The roots of this story extend from novell bìn origin.

“No, it’s fine. But actually? Can I use a Skill? Against Hogg.”

“Absolutely,” said Hogg. “We’ve been focusing too much on Brin. What do you need me to do?”

“Just defend against Brin’s attacks. Maybe block them so you can tell if he’s getting stronger,” said Davi. He picked up his lute. “And Brin, do you mind–”

“I got you.”

He launched himself at Hogg practice sword in hand, and started wailing on him.

Hogg blocked each of Brin’s strokes with casual ease. He took a step back or to the side only when he had to to make sure the two of them didn’t collide, but otherwise stood still.

Brin supposed he could’ve just chopped at Hogg over and over like he was trying to cut down a tree, but that didn’t seem like what Davi needed. He went through the sword forms for variety’s sake. Left, right, up, down, kick, stab... Hogg blocked them all.

Davi began to play, jumping into a blistering solo right from the beginning. He didn’t recognize the song from anything Davi had played before. The music was triumphant and upbeat, but it was frankly too exciting to be an epic or a ballad. It was hero music, the song that plays in action movies when the main character finally turns the tide.

He felt the difference immediately. Even though they’d been at this for more than an hour, his exhaustion faded. The aches and pains from a dozen little bruises faded into nothing. His body felt smoother, more liquid.

He moved through the sword form again. Up, down, left right... only this time he was moving twice as fast as before. No, even faster than that. From the beat of his sword matching the beat of the music, he could tell that he was striking four times for every one he had before.

He wasn’t going softer, either. The quick, brutal impacts were leaving his hands stinging and the sound of practice swords cracking against it were playing a double-time bass drum to the sound of Davi’s song.

Hogg deflected a downward swipe and flung Brin’s practice sword out of his hands. Rather than stop the fight, he flew at Hogg with his fists and feet, delivering a flurry of punches and kicks.

Hogg deflected them all with his off-hand, keeping the practice sword ready.

Without thinking, Brin jumped backwards in the air. He felt himself go into a back-hand, landing it perfectly, and when he came back up he had his practice sword in his hands.

Sancta Solia. He’d never done a back hand-spring in either of his two lives, and he’d just pulled it off. Just like that.

Not wanting to ruin the flow, he jumped into the air, sword back in both hands. The music swelled to crescendo. He brought the sword down in a huge overhand strike.

Hogg poked him in the stomach and then stepped to the side to avoid Brin’s crash.

“Why’d you stop? That was awesome!”

“Mana,” said Davi. “Let me think.”

He stood there for a minute, staring at the music box. He scratched his head. Finally, he said, “I didn’t think it would work. I guess it worked because I turned the crank? So technically I was still playing the music. It feels like a cheat, though.”

“Oh. Is that what you think?” asked Hogg, with a twinkle in his eye. He was enjoying this way too much. “Brin, get your lute.”

“Sure,” said Brin.

He fetched his lute from inside and then came back into the yard. Davi seemed to already know what to do. He started one of the war songs that they both knew, and Brin played along. Then Davi switched to the backup parts, so Brin switched to playing the melody in order to keep the song going.

He felt it when the magic activated. The power filled him, but in a different way. The magic was somehow coming from both of them now, except not, because Brin’s mana wasn’t draining at all. Apparently [Bards] could use the music they made together with someone else to carry their Skills. Now that he was on this side of it, he understood it in a way he hadn’t before. He felt the intention behind it. Strength, power, speed. This was all about being more powerful. Better. A hero.

This time, he wasn’t the target of the magic; he was only the conduit. It took most of his concentration to keep playing without making too many mistakes, but part of his mind idly wondered who the target was supposed to be. Davi put down his lute and picked up the quarterstaff.

Somehow, the magic kept flowing even while Brin was the only one playing.

Davi stepped forward, then seemed to blur as he burst into action. He spun the quarterstaff like a helicopter blade as he ran. He leapt, and his spinning quarterstaff seemed to carry him in the air, making his leap longer than it should’ve been. His first blow against Hogg’s defending wooden sword cracked like thunder.

Davi stepped forward, battering into Hogg. His thick arms moved in a smooth, controlled way that left the quarterstaff moving as if it were a living thing. The staccato cracks of wood against wood were so quick together it sounded like an avalanche.

Hogg blocked every single blow with one arm behind his back, but his eyes were narrowed. There was a look of serious concentration that had been missing in his spar against Brin.

He fought on, pressing forward. The song had one notable solo in the middle, and Davi used that time to launch into a complicated set of maneuvers that Brin had a hard time following. Hogg countered all of the moves perfectly without losing his composure in the slightest, until right at the end when he was forced to move his head back slightly to avoid a thrust.

Davi kept fighting. He didn’t tire or fumble even though Brin could see his arms growing red from the enormous strain. It was Brin that stopped first. He got to the end of the song, and didn’t think of something to replace it in time before the magic faded.

The fight ended immediately. Davi dropped the quarterstaff and bent down, hands on his knees. Breathing heavily, his face started to go a bit green as if he were about to throw up.

“Well done,” Hogg said once Davi had recovered enough to return to look like he’d be able to hear it.

“I can use any music, as long as the person making it is on my side,” Davi finally gasped out.

“Correct,” said Hogg. “Your magic will affect all allies, and the music of all allies can be used to carry your Skill. You’ll find [Bards] with every army, and not just to entertain the troops between battles. Now, let’s try that again. Pick up your quarterstaff. Brin, start playing.”

“What?” Davi asked with a look of alarm on his face.

“This is training, isn’t it? We don’t stop training because we’re tired. And I said it before, didn’t I? I’ve been too focused on Brin. It’s time to give you some attention. Pick it up.”

By the time they were done, Davi had gotten a point in Strength and two Vitality. Brin didn’t get any notifications, but he’d never say that the time was wasted. If anything, it just made him vow to spend more time practicing his lute in his free time, if only to be able to help Davi out.

The next two days went back into a routine, though one much less busy than the previous weeks had been. He alternated between Chamylla and Ademir. With Ademir, nothing really had changed. Ademir was still open and friendly, always ready to lend a hand, to teach Brin what he knew, and to jump into any conversations Brin had about things he’d learned from [Memories of Glass]. They didn’t talk about how Ademir was a [Witch]. If the [Crafter]-turned-[Witch] knew that Brin knew, he didn’t show it or he didn’t care.

The one big difference was what Brin saw when he used [Inspect].

Name Ademir Sa Race Human Age 34 Class Witch Description Ademir loves to create. He reached level 30 in Crafter before advancing to Witch. His familiar is a wooden doll, but not one that you’ve ever seen.

Alert! [Inspect] leveled up 18 -> 20

Later, he managed another quick peek into Clementine Agua’s window, and confirmed her as a [Witch] as well.

Alert! [Inspect] leveled up 20 -> 21

He also asked around about the silo, and quickly found out that it was owned by the [Butcher], a woman named Bianca Furda. The official story was her silo was specially enchanted to safely store lots of meat, which is why no one else was allowed in there.

He’d expected a [Farmer], but honestly this was the perfect setup for someone who wanted to discreetly experiment on animals.

Bianca didn’t just chop the meat; she also slaughtered the animals, a chore that many kind-hearted [Farmers] were happy to give to someone else. That meant that no one saw what happened to these chickens and cows after they were given to Bianca and before they showed up in her store as meat.

Brin was certain she was a [Witch], even before he started asking around about her personality. Everybody thought she was great. She had a cheerful, friendly personality, if a little on the morbid side, but what else would you expect from a [Butcher]? When asked about her family, everyone said that she used to have a husband and son, but they couldn’t tell exactly why she didn’t have a husband and son anymore. “No, I haven’t thought about them in a while. No, I don’t think it’s strange. No, I don’t think it’s weird that they left without telling anyone where they were going. No, I don’t really feel bad for her to be abandoned like that; I don’t think about it at all to be honest.”

On the afternoon of the day he was supposed to fight Zilly, he visited her store, and came away knowing that he was completely wrong.

Bianca was not a [Witch]. She was a short, stout woman with an easy smile, a relaxed disposition; always quick with a laugh. She had a big apron that was perfectly white and spotless and gestured with her pristine meat cleaver when she talked. Her store was tidy and organized. Plump steaks and juicy cuts of chicken were displayed in neat little refrigerated boxes. He’d only needed to chat with her for a few minutes to know she wasn’t the [Witch] type.

She’d given him a sweet-meat, some kind of juicy, delectable glob of meat on a stick covered in honey. Marksi had taken offense to it, but it was delicious. He’d taken a bite and the juice had flowed down his chin.

Even now, walking away, he was licking the juice off his fingers and– It wasn’t real.

He stopped. He looked at his hands. Covered in juice... no, blood. The taste in his mouth was disgusting. Raw beef, but with a strong note of liver. He spit out the rest, and saw flecks of white organ lining.

What? But how could that happen? He’d just been in Bianca’s shop and–

IT WASN’T REAL.

That was his Skill, [Know What’s Real] acting on his memories. He’d gone into the shop, that was real. He’d left, eating meat. That was real. The last few minutes in Bianca’s shop? They weren’t real.