Chương 237: Chapter 489: The Varangian Mercenary

"Oh god, are we done? The ground is so comfy, I just want to lie here." The Butcher was lying face down in the churned mud of the corral, covered in welts and bruises, and not wanting to move. Ben laughed, and Rolly assured Ozzy that the fight was over.

"Oh, it's over all right. I don't think Marcy will care if you take a break."

"Good. I give up. My stamina hit zero on that last round. Those swooping attacks and combos are neat, but they burn a ton of stamina. Swinging that chunk of metal around for six hours straight wore me down. If I were using my axes, I'd have most of my stamina left."

"It sort of wore Marcy down too, at the end." With everyone laughing like that was a joke, Ozzy rolled over and sat up from where Marcy's last hit had deposited him. He was expecting her to be at the Apple Kickass again. Once she'd realized it was an energy drink, she'd started imbibing heavily, with Rolly and Ben handing her mugs over the fence. She chugged them down in seconds, giving Ozzy very little time to catch his breath before she waded back into their sparring match.

As the hours went by, even his huge supply of stamina wore down. And, she'd told him he'd learn faster when tired, and he started depending on muscle memory, not his brain, when fighting. He'd grudgingly agreed, not knowing that she was dead serious about fighting until dawn. Then he saw the dented great sword on the ground next to the headstone.

"Oh, damn! How the hell did that happen? She was kicking my ass at the end. I was off balance and stumbling around. She kept moving behind me and throwing head and leg shots at me. Must have hit me in the head five times in a row." <Squirmie counted seven blows. It was enjoyable to see another predator at work, harrying a large prey beast until it collapsed in the mud. A shame your last, flailing strike was successful. But it is a good lesson for Rolly that even a defeated foe has fangs.

> Ben had been watching the fight closely, trying to learn Marceline's techniques in the hours-long brawl.

"From what I could see, she was targeting your footwork when you engaged. She'd circle and kick you, or toss a blow that would push you off-balance midstride. Then she'd throw a hard shot at your head. Once you told her how much mitigation you had, she didn't hold back. She was alternating blows to keep you stumbling, and then slamming you with those shots to your head and back.

She had to be careful of your swings and took a huge wound when you connected, but she's faster on her feet than you are with that new weapon. Quite effective at the end."

"So why is she dead?"

"Oh, you stumbled, tried to turn, and swung your big cleaver around one-handed to try and keep your balance, just as she was coming in for another shot. You know, sort of like the maneuver she taught you at the beginning? You did it instinctively. I daresay that indicates a breakthrough. Anyway, it caught her in the side where her armor was broken, and you cut her in half before you lost your balance and fell in the mud." <Squirmie declares the fight a draw and suggests fighting it over tonight. > Ozzy groaned.

"It was like fighting the Energizer Bunny. She just kept coming at me, over and over again, never letting up. Didn't help that you three were feeding her energy drinks and healing her wounds to keep her going." Suzette tossed some healing to Ozzy, taking care of some of his bruises. He hadn't taken major wounds, no matter how hard Marcy tried.

"Poor baby, I'll have to take good care of you tonight." Rolly picked up her sword and examined it. The steel was slightly rusty, and the edge was entirely dented.

"This thing is a piece of junk. Totally normal and made out of cheap steel." Suzette looked at it, "Makes sense. For sparring, you wouldn't want some highly magical weapon with a sharp edge that could hurt your opponent. No wonder she swung it like a club sometimes." Ozzy was feeling his head, "It felt like a club." Ben was checking the potions Suzette had brought, lifting the barrels, and seeing how little was left in them.

"These are your normal vintages? I'm curious, now that I consider just how much alcohol that woman drank. She should have been both awake and dead drunk. We've seen that when butchering and someone drinks too much as the night goes on. She must have a massive alcohol tolerance or poison resistance."

"That's because there's no alcohol in these two barrels. Marcy can't have alcohol. Even if she tries, the System pulls it out and scolds her about it. She's been drinking a lot of non-alcoholic maple fizzes at the tavern. She's only sixteen in the real world." The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Ben's eyes got huge as what Suzette was saying sunk in.

"Rolly, this just gets better and better." Rolly looked at the exhausted and battered Butcher, leaning against the corral.

"Are you implying, madam, that our champion gladiator entered the ring and was soundly beaten by an underage child of the female persuasion?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm not sure we can put him in the ring again." Ozzy was ok with that.

"Sounds great. Which of you is fighting her tonight?" Ben wasn't fond of hours of pain, but he did want to get better at fighting with his weapon, and Ozzy had certainly been a lot faster on his feet at the end, swinging his hogsplitter with a skill he hadn't had before, but still..."How about a Teamup? I'll start, and you take over when I drop."

"Sure, we'll play tag team. If both of us drop, Suzy takes over, and then our wounded and weary Butcher." Ozzy staggered to his feet, "A weary Butcher who has to get to some breakfast and get to work. Those minions I took on need a lot of supervision." They walked to the center of town just in time to see Vernon, Marceline, and a dozen players resurrect at the fountain. Vernon quickly sat on the edge of the fountain, holding his head.

Several players did the same, while a couple walked to the tavern, and one crawled. Marcy yelled out, "Oh man, that was awesome! Love this game." She skipped over to Ozzy and slapped him on the back, making him wince.

"That was a great workout. I managed to come up with two or three more combos and got a lot better at dodging and blocking your heavy swings. You got a lot better by the end, too. You're a lot quicker on your feet than most big guys." Ben stared at her, then at the players and Vern, before looking at Marcy again, searching her face for a hint of pain or depressing thoughts. He saw only sunshine.

"I'm sorry, but how are you avoiding the resurrection debuff? Even contract workers get hit with it, and we shrug off most psychological effects." She said, her face dead serious, "When I joined the Varangian Guard, the King of the Byzantines promised that the sun would always shine upon me and I'd never have a bad day." They all stared at her, and Ben said, "Where the hell do I sign up?" She elbowed him in the ribs, "Anytime after 988 A. D.

, but you've got a couple of centuries until they go out of style around 1200. Another reason might be that my demographic group already suffers from a high level of depression and anxiety, and the game figured out it would be a bad thing to inflict that on poor, innocent little children. What's for breakfast? I'm starving and I want to plan out our next sparring sessions and plans for torturing Vern until he improves." Ozzy paused at that news. Ben smiled innocently, "Oh, to be so young again. Isn't it glorious?"

The Butcher grinned, "Tell me after you've dealt with her tonight."

"Hmm, point taken." Seeing the dozen recovering adventurers, Suzette made sure Granya had extra food for when they made it over to the tavern. It was pancake day, and she took the first loaded tray to her group, where Ben and Ozzy ate a little while Rolly and Marcy refilled their plates several times. Vern came in, helped by Ricardo, and looked for fifteen minutes at his smorgasbord of selections before saying, "It's all poisoned!" Suzette clapped, "Well done.

And yes, it's all poisoned, from the pancakes to grapes. But some of it is nearly edible, and other things will make you regret your poor choice for the rest of the day. Choose wisely." Vern made his selections and ate carefully, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he followed his assistant out and began the jog to Bunny Hill. Marcy asked, extremely curious, "What's going to happen to him today?"

"He actually did pretty well. His skin is going to turn yellow, his scalp will itch until lunch, and he's going to see phantoms out of the corners of his eyes. He'll be pretty paranoid for the day. Mild compared to the stomach cramps, muscle spasms, and boils that he could have ended up with." Marcy seemed disappointed.

"I guess there's always tomorrow. Today, after he clears the rabbits, he gets to order around a team of twenty recruits and march them all over creation. I wonder if the paranoia will help him spot the ambushes the veterans are going to spring on him. But I should get a move on. I need my spare armor and a sword to wave around today. I'll see you all at midnight, and since you're all wearing such spiffy magical gear, I'm bringing out my good stuff. I want to make sure you get a good lesson."

She looked at Suzette, "And more of the apple, and healing stuff, if you don't mind. You people have the best ideas."