Chapter 31: Dreams

Chapter 31: Dreams

Harel was currently training. She had been training for the last twenty hours straight. Marven and Harel continued their journey and reached a bigger settlement. Here, they had rented a large building and dedicated it to Harel’s training.

And the training was dedicated indeed.

Harel was thoroughly exhausted, but she didn’t want to say anything. Marven was watching her intently.

Was he angry?

She couldn’t tell. Ever since she blew up on him, he had been strangely quiet. A stern expression was permanently stuck on his face, and he made her train every waking hour of the day. Harel felt that he was angry at her and that this was some sort of petty punishment, but she couldn’t deny the results of the last few days.

While her progress in cultivation wasn’t as fast as it was in front of the lotus, she was improving much quicker in her skills. She had already mastered nearly all the forms of Marven’s swordsmanship. She was currently practicing the eighth form. Harel hadn’t started the eighth form all that long ago, which regretfully signified she would be training for at least another few hours.

Although Harel didn’t want to speak up against this treatment, primarily due to her pride, she couldn’t hold back anymore. The eighth form of Marven’s swordsmanship was terrible. It was a form designed to prepare a fighter to react to counterattacks. She couldn’t keep this to herself anymore, so she stopped her practice. Marven raised an eyebrow.

“I do not remember telling you to stop.”

“Wait, I’m not stopping the training, but there is something I have to point out.”

“And what exactly may that be?”

“This form is bad.”

Marven raised the other eyebrow as well.

“Oh really? Mind if you enlighten me as to why?”

Harel then took a few swings and showed off a few of the moves.

“This attack, this attack, and especially this attack, this stance, and this footing are useless in practice.”

“Why do you believe that?”

“Well, first, I have to ask you a question, did you add the eighth form because you were one form short of ten? Was nine not a good number?”

“I did not ask for sarcasm, young lady. Either speak or continue swinging.”

Harel sighed.

“The entire eighth form is pointless. It is a form designed to allow one to react to counterattacks, right? But the form itself essentially opens you up for counterattacks.”

“Indeed, that is how it’s designed. I made it to face someone willing to take risky openings. The form is strong at defending a few critical areas while also putting you in the position to defend against strikes directed at areas that are not protected. Had Elder Kaphor not been arrogant in the fight against Neave, he would have used this form and likely won.”

“Had he used this form, he would have lost immediately.”

“What makes you believe that?”

“Because the eighth form has a hard skill ceiling. It only really works against opponents up to a certain level. Past that, the defenses become more openings, and the openings become useless.”

“Which is when you would use another form.” Marven sighed, “Look, I understand what you’re saying, but no swordsmanship style is perfect. Which is why it's best to have a set of tools to face specific circumstances.”

Harel remembered the way Neave fought. The way he held the sword. She hesitated for a bit, but then she asked.

“What about...? What about the way Neave fought?”

Marven sighed again at that one.

“What about it? Look, Harel, it is almost certain that the book was some sort of inheritance. If Neave had acquired the skills of some long-deceased swordsman, it is pointless to fantasize about replicating such a style.”

“But... It was so... Fluid. All he did was dodge the strikes he could, parry those he couldn’t, and strike when he found an opening. There was no form, no set rules he followed. He just created and broke the rules as he went along.”

Marven raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn’t witnessed Neave’s swordsmanship personally, so he was having trouble believing Harel’s words.

How much work would one have to do to accomplish such a style?

“So what are you suggesting now? You want to learn a style like that?”

“I... I want to believe. I’ve seen something like that, and I can not help but feel like my style is far too inferior.”

“You mean my style?”

“Yes.” Harel nodded. She did think Marven’s swordsmanship was inferior to Neave’s.

“Were you not the one begging me to teach you?” Marven frowned. “And now you’re diminishing my work? Calling it inferior?”

“Your swordsmanship is superior to most other styles. Iit is a style you have created entirely on your own. Mas–No, Marven, I wanted you to teach me, but not because I believed your current style is the best. I wanted you to teach me because I believed in your swordsmanship. Is this style not merely just a step on the path to reaching true greatness?”

“Those are childish dreams, Harel. I don’t see us coming across any inheritances like that soon.”

“Whoever made that inheritance must have been a childish dreamer, then? And it is a dream that your child has already realized. Perhaps it is time for you to be more childish again.”

Marven smiled a bit at that.

“Alright then. I can be childish. If you wish to accomplish what you’ve set out to do, we will have to change our approach to your training.”

Harel did not like where this was going.

“We can still quit this job. You’ve heard the report from Pavarrie. Chasing this thing might not be worth it.”

Lank looked at him, smiling with his mouth but not with his eyes.

“But we are running out of time. We are never going to get the money needed through our regular work. The Yixine empire is just too damn fucking big. We will never make it without a teleportation circle to get us over the biggest danger zones. And teleporting nearly thirty people will be expensive. Really fucking expensive, shit man, I wish we hired someone to do our finance.”

The other man laughed lethargically.

“What if we... What if we stayed? Is it worth risking our lives over this?”

“There is no risk-free option, Bev. If we stay on the Yixine continent, we will die within five years. You remember what that woman had said?”

The other man nodded and sighed.

“I wish there were a better way.”

“Don’t you now, you fat asshole?” Both of the men laughed. “Who the hell doesn’t want that?”

Suddenly they spotted two men walking in the darkness. Immediately both Lank and Bev grabbed for their swords.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, boss, relax! It's just us!”

“You dumb cunts.” Lank blew air out as the tension left him. “What the fuck are you doing in the wild in the middle of the night anyway?”

“Recon.”

“Yeah, my fucking ass.”

Bev then took a jab at them.

“Pone, Nehval, you two have something to tell us? I’ve seen you two sneaking out in the woods a few times already, don’t worry. We ain’t gonna judge you.”

“Ah, shut the hell up, you fatass!”

The men walked past them, and as Bev was about to slap Pone on the back of his head, Pone jolted as if he was about to stab him.

“Hey, man, what’s with the tension? You know I feel about people calling me fat.”

Pone stepped back nervously.

“Lank does that all the time, man. Give me a break.”

“Lank is my brother, man, and I beat his ass just the same, hahaha!”

Pone tried running, but Bev was a step higher than he was. He was caught with little effort. Bev slapped the back of his head. The slap resounded with a metallic thud.

All of the men paused. Lank ran over, distress plain on his face.

“Come here, Pone. Let me touch your skin.”

“No, boss, please.”

It was too late.

Lark pinched Pone and reeled at the sensation. His skin felt metallic. Lark’s face contorted, first in shock, then in disbelief, and then in anger...

And finally, in despair. He started crying.

“Pone...? Don’t tell me, Nehval, you as well?”

Both the men lowered their heads in shame.

“Are you fucking...?” He turned and put his fist up to his mouth, eyes reddening as he did his best not to weep. “Are you braindead? Did you think you would get away with this?”

“Boss...”

“Don’t... Don’t call me that, please. Just get out. Please just leave.”

“Boss, listen...”

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT! You're a disgrace, both of you. You could never have gotten away with it! The gods’ agents would have noticed immediately!” He screamed at them. Then he pointed his finger into the forest. “Just get the hell out. And don’t come back.”

Lank and Pone walked away, Lank in tears and Pone with a disapproving expression on his face. The two men stood for minutes, wanting to return, but they knew the jig was up.

They turned around and dejectedly walked into the forest.

***

Neave ran through the forest at incredible speed. He had learned how to utilize the body morphing power to accelerate his running drastically. After coupling that with his long-distance movement technique and his general increase in speed and physical performance, he could run several times faster.

As he ran through the forest, he eviscerated any monsters he encountered. As soon as he killed them, and sometimes even before, he would eat their meat and absorb whatever he could. The speed at which he increased his physical abilities was already drastically slower than at the beginning. Even though he was consuming several times more flesh, several times faster, he was only slowly making progress.

It was then that he noticed something unusual in the distance. A patch of the forest where the trees were thinner. After he came closer, he saw them.

There was a massive tribe of goblins ahead.

He didn’t hesitate even a second before running at them and slaughtering them.