Chương 212: Finishing the Favour

By the time we finished all of Shatter's nodes, it was well past midnight. We waited in silence for the Keepers to repair the last node. This would tell us if it worked or not. The moment of truth… The keepers crawled out the hole we'd made. Blood slicked off their back like oil and water, and I scooped them up with my finger before they could avoid it, then wiped them off and returned them to the jar.

"Can you feel anything different?" Sage asked.

"It—" Shatter blinked.

"It doesn't sting anymore. Aside from the holes, but those will heal." Sage held out her hand. A warm light flickered on her palm, and she said, "They are gone, now."

"You never said the damaged leys stung," I said.

"I didn't want you to think I was looking for pity." Shatter crossed his arms.

"Yet you insisted on helping me anyway."

"You did me a few favours. I'm always gonna do my best to help those who help me."

"I— Thank you." Shatter tilted his head.

"How do we know if it worked, though?" I rummaged through my kit bag until I found my reading slate, then pulled it out and handed it to Shatter. I'd brought it with me specifically for this reason.

"You'll be able to see it here, won't you? You'll have a proper connection to the System now." He took hold of the slate, then held it up and stared at it.

"It works. I've got a connection, and… [Blacksmith] class? I thought I was supposed to be a [Soldier]."

"Well, I guess it just registered all the work that you did before forming your connection," I said.

"That's the only way I can explain it, but that seems right to me."

"I guess so…" Shatter said. He handed the slate back to me.

"I'm only a Copper, still, but I'll get working. But…I'd better get going. It's already late, and I don't have anywhere near as high as your stats. You guys can go without sleep far better than I can."

"Of course," I said.

"Best of luck." Hanging his head awkwardly, he scampered out of the library. Sage said nothing, and neither did I. Finally, after a few seconds, she glanced at me and said, "This isn't how thegns typically behave."

"You should know by now that I don't care."

"It's that way for a reason. Path-walkers learned long ago that if you do a favour for a mortal man, that is fine and honourable, now and again. But if you help him too often and too much, he will grow resentful of you. A favour so big that you can never repay feels like a noose around the neck." I swallowed.

"I don't think Shatter's like that. I'm making investments—even if people might think I'm bad with money. And now we have a highly motivated blacksmith armed with the System."

"Would that be…better? Has the System ever not been a chain around your neck?" I pursed my lips.

"Perhaps. But it's also helped me advance faster than a regular Path-walker, no? By combining your body reforging techniques with the System…"

"He doesn't have the blessing of a Slumberer." I sighed.

"We don't know what, if anything, the [Blacksmith] class will do, too. He's probably the only Dupe in the world with that class." I paused.

"Does the [Soldier] class do anything?"

"It makes you more predisposed to gaining offensive Arts and gaining weapons Skills."

"So he'll be predisposed to crafting Skills?"

"Perhaps." Sage shook her head.

"We'll have to wait and see."

"Either way…" I stood up straight and moved closer to the door.

"We know it works, now. We can manipulate the Keepers with the dust. Now we just need a way to make them see something as part of the Labyrinth, lock in its ideal form, and have them constantly repair it for us." And if all went well, perhaps I'd have a solution to one of the problems Lord Ceonwin brought up. If I could repair damage to Shatter's leys, there was a chance I could use that to repair my own leys from an overwhelming Presence draw. This story originates from Royal Road.

Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I wasn't ready to test it yet—it was too much risk—and I couldn't advance the Art, anyway. At least there was a potential way out. ~ ~ ~ There was no fanfare when we reached the third phase of our training. I barely even remembered the phases were switching until the morning of. The Drillmaster stood in front of all of us—all the remaining Dupes. There were about sixty of us still in the training program. Fifteen squads. No lieutenants, though.

They were all assisting with the front lines.

"The third phase is individual combat training," the Drillmaster began, his voice booming over the crowd.

"You will remain with your squads for the duration of the phase. You will spar against your squadmates, and you will spar against others in your three-squad training group. We will pair you with the instructors we deem best for your squads. Please check the board behind me, then head to your designated pit and begin." After checking the board, I raced to the same pit that I'd been training at with the other spearmen. Moonhand was still there, still waiting for us, but only I and one other in our group knew him.

Our training group included my squad, Yesman's, and Habit's. That was it.

"Welcome back, Levi," Moonhand said coldly. In truth, I was glad. It gave me more chances to attempt to score a hit on him, and that was exactly what I needed.

"During this third phase, we will attempt to hone your combat abilities, as well as your Arts. You cannot think about what you are doing. In Ohnethil, we say that this is 'like a tree.' You must not think about lowering your shield or swinging your sword, any more than a tree thinks about dropping its leaves, or an elf thinks about dropping his whiskers." At that, the branches growing behind his ears and on his cheeks trembled. They had dropped their leaves over the winter, leaving bare, spindly branches.

So they are called whiskers… I thought.

"Since you all have a basic foundation, I will split you into pairs. You will fight each other for as long as you can. Between two masters, a fight should last about five minutes, and it will leave you exhausted." Habit scowled.

"In my experience, most of my real fights have been short."

"Then you are no master yet. But these are training weapons, and you will survive a strike or two, just like in a true fight between powerful Path-walkers. Few blows are fatal on their own." Everyone was silent after that. Moonhand paired us up into partners—even the druids, who were expected to have a basic combat proficiency. My first fight was with Squirrel. He wore light chainmail hauberk and pauldrons, and of course, a helmet, but no other armour.

With every step, he bounced, his shield bobbing and his small battle axe swaying. From what I could gather, his Agility was exceptionally high, and he'd continued to push it as high as he could.

"Begin," Moonhand instructed.

"Your druids are here. Injure each other if you must. Strike with intent, and do not hesitate." A cold breeze blew across the sparring pit, carrying flakes of snow in it. As far as I could tell, the worst of winter was over, but we still had a month or so before spring began in earnest. I didn't shiver anymore. I barely even noticed it, and I hadn't needed to put on any heavier clothes, even with my chainmail and scale mail getting as cool as it did.

We were training in our armour, both to mitigate the damage done to each other and to simulate its weight in a real battle. Compared to the riftrocks we also had to carry, it was like wearing a light tunic. I barely felt a difference—in weight or mobility. Squirrel began his attack by zig-zagging to the side. He held his shield up, protecting himself from my spear, while twirling his axe, as if trying to get used to its weight. Or maybe it was to intimidate me.

I had the advantage of reach, so I used it, trying to keep him at bay with long attacks and heavy jabs. He may have been faster and more agile, but all I had to do to keep up with him was turn. We circled for a few minutes, testing each other's defenses. When Moonhand navigated around, he adjusted both of our stances with absolute precision. Even if my foot was a half inch off, rotated the wrong way to the outside, he corrected it. We adjusted mid-fight.

"Thank you for listening, Levi, and for the quick corrections. Squirrel, you must correct yourself sooner. I do not have time to debate with you about the proper footwork."

"Apologies, sir," Squirrel nattered.

"I was just—""No response required. Do better next time." Then he moved on. As soon as he left us, Squirrel lunged. He ducked under my spear and used his shield to guard his head. Instead of pulling back, I whirled my spear upward, catching him under the chin with the shaft of my spear while blocking his axe with my shield. He skidded along the ground, but rolled back to his feet and attacked right away. I kept up the pressure, preferring to jab, but every so often, I whirled my spear to the side.

Eventually, I caught him on the side of the helmet, knocking him to the ground. There, I pounced on him, pressed my spear against his neck, then knocked off his helmet with my shield. After a few seconds of squirming and struggling, he gave up. He flattened his arms to his side and said, "You win, Sir Levi. I am just a Titanium."

"You've gotta be getting close to Silver."

"Close." The morning continued on similarly. In the afternoons, Moonhand put us in the exact same activity again, except this time, he pulled one of us aside to train directly. Of course he picked me to pull aside first.