Chapter 30: Talent

Chapter 30: Talent

It's been a year.

We managed to crawl into this cave, dug out, and used it for... some kind of experiment?. They didn't label any documents, and their projects contained sparse information. The best we've been able to determine is that they were trying to create miniature self-contained environments, though why bother doing so far beneath the earth?

It doesn't matter to us. We've been able to start small farms thanks to their work, and a few have begun to make use of the Blessing.

At least that's what the church is calling it. They said a glowing figure came out from the sky and told them to come here, and we took them in; they're humans, after all, not like those monsters out there.

Everyone we send out above dies, eventually. Gets sick and dies over time, aside from those priests, which I don't get. But they say in time, they'll be able to heal the sickness, and it'll go away.

Is this hell?

- Aaron Dunwick, Assorted Notes (2, 3rd Era)

After submitting his form, the priest sent Erec back to the other initiates. One by one, the instructors called them up in pairs to fight in the ring.

Garin was one of the first to fight, along with a girl from the Order of the Crimson Lotus.

If you could call it a fight. The Dame tried using Mysticism against his friend, but Garin could easily counter and break her concentration by pressing an assault. She’d worn down in a few minutes, yet the fight dragged on and on.

Garin never went for the kill. Either it was because he felt embarrassed for her or knew her in some way, he withdrew just before landing an ending blow. It was like he kept trying to give her a chance to shine on the field, yet she never did.

Eventually, the girl, outmatched, forfeited.

But the overall effect was that the fight made Garin look like he lacked the drive to win, while it made the girl appear hopelessly weak. To Erec, it seemed crueler than a decisive victory.

Another rather disappointing match-up was Lyotte against her former maid, Olivia. At the announcement, Erec leaned forward to watch.

Within the first ten seconds, Olivia intentionally threw herself too far into a swing and took a ‘lethal’ blow. The two gave one another respectful bows and had a small conversation afterward.

One might argue that Olivia simply made a mistake, that it wasn’t an intentional loss and just an overestimation. But Erec doubted it; that would be too convenient. There was something hidden beneath the surface of Olivia. A Knight Commander yelled at them to break up their conversation and clear the battlefield.

Before Erec knew it, the Commander Knight yelled loudly, “Sir Erec of House Audentia.” He broke apart from the crowd and headed to the weapon rack. Even as the announcer yelled his opponent’s name. “—and Sir Soren of House Crisimus.”

The Prince. He was to face the Prince. The crowd burst into cheers and hoots of excitement.

Erec stuffed down his nerves and the accompanying flare of excitement. This was only a spar. Even against someone like the Prince, it changed nothing; Soren was simply an opponent with far more training than himself. Yet the thrill of pitting himself against a superior enemy was palpable. It also meant he’d have to rely on the ‘experiment’ to compensate for that skill difference if he wanted any chance of winning.

He didn’t want to stomach a loss—that drive to win burned higher and higher with every attempt to temper it. So many times growing up, he felt the sting of lingering in Bedwyr’s shadow. Whether it was at his job in the bio-cavern or at primary school, where their teachers hounded him about getting worse grades.The debut release of this chapter happened at Ñøv€l-B1n.

No, he didn’t want to win. He wanted every voice crying out for prince Soren to yell out his name instead. To hear them chant, “Erec!”

His fingers shook as he took in the weapon rack.

Of course, there were about five styles of dulled swords, as would be expected. A couple of spears with their points removed. And a one-handed axe with a flat edge—not as balanced as his new weapons, but it fit nicely in his palm.

A fine enough weapon for the job.

He took his place on the field as Soren picked out a simple longsword. He took his position and stood stoic in the Academy Uniform.

The dark-haired Prince wore a blank expression, whereas Erec fought to keep his heart from hammering in anticipation of the fight. There was nothing from the Prince. A calm, serene gaze that bordered on boredom. Even with the crowd cheering him on and filling the ring with more energy than any match before,

“What’s your deal?” Erec asked, waiting for the Knight Commander to start the fight.

Soren tilted his head. “Deal?”

“Yeah, you look like you’re watching a protective coat dry on your Armor. Is facing me boring to you? Are you that confident you’re going to win?”

The pain only drew the Fury out more. His weapon jerked outward, but his arm lagged behind the instincts, giving Soren enough time to slip out of range and disappear—or rather, appear to flee backward.

Minutes flew by, yet the dance of their fight remained the same, Soren would dart in, and Erec would react, often nicked but still surviving. He was unable to retaliate with his axe. Every second that the fight dragged on, his body felt less responsive. Dulled and drugged.

It was frustrating. Pain and anger swelled in him, numbed by the constant feeling of sedative unleashed in response—a limiter keeping him from flying off the edge.

But it also limited him from winning.

Retaining the barest of his senses and drugged, his body couldn’t react with the pure instinct that this fight demanded. All he needed was to let fury take control, and he’d have Soren. As the drugs and fury rampaged his mind, his sense of logic hung by an increasingly frayed rope.

“Stop the sedatives.”

[That would violate the goals of this experiment.]

“I don’t care,” Erec growled as another stab came in from his right, kindly warned by VAL before it happened. The blade scored a nick on his cheek, its dull edge catching and ripping enough skin to cause blood and pain to swell. His vision pulsed in waves of red, deepening in crimson only to flush back to color as VAL released more sedatives to keep him in check.

[You’re aware you’ll lose control?]

“I want to win.”

[We must let new employees make their mistakes to learn. Experiment concluded.]

The change came ten seconds later. Erec’s vision filled with red completely; he tasted his blood. That deep metallic and beautiful taste.

There was a buzzing in his head. But he didn’t need it anymore. No, he sensed the direction of the killing intent. A blow was coming directly for his midsection. Erec jumped forward with sudden abandon; his axe caught the sword’s edge. He slammed the weapon, his Strength spiraling, whacking the sword far aside.

The edge of the axe went in for a killing blow to the neck—only for the target to redirect the weapon with a deft movement of their blade. After which, Soren used fancy footwork to twist away and maneuver his blade to jab directly into Erec’s heart.

No choice but to pull back; Erec put temporary distance between them. The failed assault only deepened his fury, especially as Soren tried to fade away again, his shadow running off in one direction.

He wouldn’t get away.

There was another annoying buzz in Erec’s skull.

Erec yanked his arm back and threw the axe for all it was worth—spinning through the air directly to where he knew Soren was.

There was a clang of metal as Soren’s sword barely deflected the weapon. A feat that should’ve been impossible, yet this enemy pulled it off. Erec grinned, taking a stance to move in with his fists, charging in after they blocked the hit.

A sword hit the side of Erec’s neck as he closed the distance.

But he knew that the enemy’s sword couldn’t slay him. It’s blade was too dull. They’d picked the wrong weapon for this fight.

Erec sprang forward and tackled the enemy to the ground. They should’ve brought a real sword. That poor excuse for an axe was just as useless.

He’d bash this enemy into a pulp with his bare hands.

He raised a fist to start raining down blows against Soren and secure victory. A hand grabbed him by the collar and flung him far away.

[Administering sedatives.]

Erec tumbled across the ground, gasping as more pain filled him—but the moment he stopped, he scrambled to his feet. His legs shook; they threatened to give out as the drugs pumped in him without end. Each muscle strained and started the spasm. It felt like his body was heavier than it had any right to be. An overwhelming urge to lay down and accept defeat poisoned him.

No

He took a few steps towards the opposite side of the field, weathering the struggle. It’s not over.

The one who threw him flew in and slammed a fist into Erec’s stomach.

Erec doubled over from the pain, collapsing to the ground with a gasp.