54: Off the Wild Ride

54: Off the Wild Ride

As a group, we rematerialised from our adrenaline fuelled sojourn to help the other cities and immediately I was hit with a gut punch of nausea. Oh, oh gods—

I threw up, spraying puke all over the now cooling battlefield that we’d left behind. By the sounds of it, I wasn’t alone. Vesuvia, mum’s friend, and the rest of the gladiators were doing the same as the rest of us, except they were laughing too.

“Y’all are fucking crazy,” Noah giggled between retches, clearly speaking to the gladiators.

“Did you—” Ethan said, before his stomach rebelled again. “Did you see when Jace jumped five metres in the air to hit that fairy with his claws? Bloody hell.”

The gladiator in question, a tiger beastfolk, chortled and flashed his claws. My mum's friends were very much crazy.

"I think the part where they slapped explosives to a boulder and used it as a shrapnel-launching shaped charge was way more hectic, to be honest," I said, my stomach finally letting up.

“Okay, but it isn’t just the friends,” Elena interjected. “Your mum got into a fist fight with a fucking ogre.” She fixed her eyes on my mum and her dishevelled red hair. “You got into a fist fight with an ogre and you won! What did they feed you when you were growing up?”

“Ay, ye’ know, me mother suckled me when she was on a diet of soup cooked with the tears of her enemies until I was ould enough te drink mey powdered bone from me buttle,” she said, thickening her irish accent so much that I think I was the only one who actually understood what she said.

Poor Elena snorted and laughed, which sucked some sick back down her throat. She began to hack and cough, then dry heaved some more.

My friends weren’t wrong though. After the trip through all sorts of cities and towns along the human-controlled coastal nations, we’d seen some wild shit. Absently, I checked my quest progress.

Quest Progress: Threat from the Faelands!

Assaults Defeated: 13

Cities Fallen: 7

Assaults in progress: 0

Seven whole cities had fallen, but 13 were saved. Of those seven cities, three were outright lost, with players from those areas now tasked with protecting NPC refugees as they retreated to safer regions. The other four were recaptured, although very much non-functioning currently. The players there had rebuilding quests.

In Ardgour, there was nothing, no notification to tell us what to do next. Still, it felt like there might be something coming soon.

Moving away from the gross puddle, I picked a mushroom corpse and sat down heavily. That was about the time I realised my "gear-rating-normalised" arena provided armour was still equipped. For me, that was shin guards, a studded leather skirt made of straps, and a chest harness made of the same. It squished my boobs in and covered my nipples, but that was about it.

Looking at his lance again, Noah replied, “I got the choice between Impact and Bulwark. I have no idea what Impact would’ve done, but Bulwark lets me create shields that act like physical objects. So like, I summon a big cube of shield and it goes thunk onto the ground like it was made of brick or something. I can even crush things with them. I also have stats I can put the point into instead, called Damage, Durability, Speed, and Spellflow. I’m not sure what to make of those either.”

“Fascinating,” Ethan murmured, running a finger down the lance in thought. Noah’s eyes tracked that finger all the way down the shaft of his weapon. When he noticed my ever-so-slightly raised eyebrow and amused smirk, his cheeks flushed red and he fought a grin in return. Yeah, I see you, you hopelessly gay king.

“Well, if the game is going to be all mysterious and shit, I guess I’ll just pick the word that appeals to me the most? Or, I have those stats, maybe I could do those?” I asked, more to help myself make a decision than to actually solicit their opinions.

Noah nodded. “That’s what I did.”

I picked Instinct, and watched as an actual description materialised under the word.

You have attuned further with your sword, and it has responded to your desires. Instinct born of many hours of practice has honed not only your skills, but the bond between swordswoman and blade. The Tobubana Katana now shares those instincts, and can act on your intent, even if muscle and bone have not yet moved to guide its movements.

Level Three Paths: Flow, Clarity.

When I read the description out to the two boys, Ethan threw his hands in the air. “That’s just as bad! What does that even mean!?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not touching level three until I’ve figured out what the hell is different about my sword,” I sighed, dismissing the menu. Stupid sword.

“I’m going to put my damn robes back on,” Ethan grumbled, turning his frustration to something he could actually solve.

Oh, right. I was going to do that too, before I got distracted by my sword.

The short kimono and flowing pants went back on, along with the shoes and everything else. I considered what to do with the gladiator armour for a moment. It was actually better than my current gear by quite a lot. I needed to upgrade, and badly.

“Oh, Keiko!” Noah blurted. “Don’t forget to spend your trait points in your sword. It gives the weapon a nice boost to its stats.”

“Plus, don’t forget all the levels you got from the battles,” Paisley said, startling me when she appeared right beside me.

Smiling thanks at her, I stretched my arms out above my head. “I’m going to need a drink for that. Where’s our tree gotten to?”