Chương 82: The Gifted Child

Day 9 Sarah sat where I had waited for Lucy to prep my coffee just this morning, while I worked behind the counter, trying to figure out how to operate the machines well enough to make proper hot chocolate.

"So, how has your day been, Eve?" Sarah asked.

"During dinner you looked a bit miserable, to be honest." I looked up from the machine I'd been inspecting at Sarah.

"Sorry, I'm bad at this. Do you want the small-talk answer or the honest one?" A smile crept across her lips.

"Did I give the impression I was one who wants platitudes? If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine; it's no skin off my back. Just don't placate me." I turned back to my work.

"Honestly? Fucking miserable. I won't go into too much depth on all of it—if I did, I'd probably turn into a sobbing mess again. Which I think would go too far with the entire honesty thing. But it would fit the pattern of losing control today. Over and over again." I finally had a solid idea for what to do and turned on the first device. Basically just a fancy kettle for milk, which should prevent it from burning.

"Losing control? Want to talk about that?"

"You've been there the first time, when I had that flashback while we were running. It just keeps blindsiding me, you know? Later I kept my anger in check but completely lost myself to the carnage in the jungle. And then—then even later I fell to anger. Again. And hard." I distracted myself by focusing on this, preparing the best cup of hot chocolate I could.

"How do you do it? You fight professionally. But I've seen you. You laughed while fighting. How do you keep it from overwhelming you?" Sarah thought about my question a bit before she leaned forward as she laid out her answer. She did that thing with her fingers again, holding three up.

"There are, like, three of you while fighting. Three different brains, kind of. On the lowest level, there is the muscle memory." She counted down one finger.

"That's years of practice and repetition, which we all get a shortcut on with the Blessing. That's what skills seem to replace, you know? For a long time it felt like my Swordfighting skill did nothing at all. It went up quickly, but I still relied on those same lessons I learned before the Blessing. But at some point, that skill's progression slowed down. And when it rose after that, I felt my muscle memory improve. That's the most basic level."

"What's your skill at right now?"

"Uh," her eyes unfocused as she checked something in her UI, "twenty-six."

"Damn. So skills don't translate the same way Attributes do. Maybe twenty-five is closer to the peak of pre-Blessing potential there. What about the other two?"

"Oh, right. The other two brains. Then there is the tactical brain. Which I don't think is a skill at all, but I think mental attributes help. The muscle memory knows how to execute which attack, which parry, any movement really. But you need that tactical brain to know how to change the flow of the combat. To spot the patterns in your opponent's strategy and how to abuse those. Notice moves they are less practiced with. That kind of stuff." She was down to one finger now.

"And lastly?"

"Everything else. That's the emotions, that's the grocery list you have to do, the taxes you still need to file. That's the one you learn to shut out. Real fighting isn't like in anime. You don't get a big boost when you let yourself become angry. All you get is that you become sloppy and predictable. If I can piss off an opponent before the fight even starts, and they haven't learned to keep their emotions in check, that means I'm already halfway to victory." My first attempt was ready, and I took a sip.

For a first try, it was pretty good. Sarah laughed.

"Really? All that effort, and you get the first cup? You've got a lot to learn about being a proper host." I looked at her, aghast.

"This is scorching hot. I have fire resistance. And I wanted to make sure I wasn't serving you a liquid insult to your taste buds."

"Huh. You can just sip a drink that'd burn me. Kinda cool."

"The opposite, rather. I'll happily inform you that this cup was indeed adequate, though. Do you want it?"

"After you already drank from it? Nah. I'll take the next one. So you can deploy your entire Barista skill for me." I gave her a faux bow.

"At your service." I began making a second cup.

"Did any of that three brains thing make sense to you?" she asked.

"It did. I am not sure what to do about it, though. I operate bodies that work completely differently from the one I spent my entire life in. And for that I'm relying on a skill called Instinct. But it's not just a replacement for the lack of proper muscle memory. It also comes with literal instincts. Some shapes want to fuck shit up more than I'm comfortable with, but it's difficult separating those desires from the instincts that tell me how to pounce on someone's throat."

Sarah took her time thinking about my words before she replied.

"How much did you practice?"

"Practice what?"

"Operating a non-human body while resisting its instincts."

"It happens all the time when I'm out and about. But dedicated practice? Training? I… haven't done any of that."

"You were a gifted kid, weren't you?" Sarah asked, badly hiding a smile.

"Yes. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Seems like the kind of person who'd lament not being good at something after having spent exactly zero hours practicing that very same thing." I put the second cup in front of Sarah.

"Enjoy your giftedly made hot chocolate while I lament being an idiot." A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"No more lamenting. Let's find a place to duke it out."

"How about we finish our drinks while exploring the tower a bit, and then we get down and dirty." Sarah hopped off her seat.

"I like the way you think. Let's check out that crib of yours." Using the 'Tourist Guide' Ash had written for me as our guide, we explored the tower. In some places the decadence was obscene. We found a conference room with a literal golden calf as its centerpiece. Someone had paid a small fortune for a very stupid joke. But there was also half a floor that contained a fully automated tropical garden. At this hour it was illuminated with UV lights, and a sprinkler system misted the air.

There were small creeks flowing through it and ponds with exotic fish. While the experience was entirely artificial, it was also clear that someone had put a lot of care into perfecting it. After leaving the garden, we stood in silence, while I definitely did not notice what the misted rain had done to Sarah's dress. I was a proper paragon of willpower.

"That might be the most beautiful place in New York," I said.

"Honestly? Yeah. Take good care of it."

"I'll ask Ash to read up on botany. And on how to take care of those fish. And the technology that keeps that place running."

"Ready for a sparring match?" I pointedly looked away.

"Only if you happened to have brought spare clothes." There was another long moment of silence, and I could have sworn I could feel the heat radiating off Sarah as she noticed.

"Just stand exactly like that for a moment." I heard fabric rustle. It seemed like she did have spare clothes in her inventory.

"Okay. Less dinner-appropriate, but more presentable than before," Sarah said. She had switched into a jersey and jeans.

"It was a nice dress, though," I said.

"I don't remember if I had complimented your look before."

"You didn't."

"Fuck." Sarah laughed.

"I forgot, too, I think. Time to throw down?" I headed towards the elevators. There was a fencing hall on Ash's list. That'd probably do.

"Absolutely."

"You got something small-ish that comes with a mean attitude? Proper instincts that want to throw fists? Without actually tearing me to shreds, if you can't keep them in check?" I thought about it for a moment.

"Yes. Yes, I do. I can boost the size of a honey badger. That'll do."

"Oh, hell yeah. They are awesome." We entered the elevator.

"Just to set some ground rules," Sarah began, "I have some protective gear with me, and if this goes sideways, I have healing potions. And I will try to provoke you, which might hurt you, but I'll try to avoid harming you. Sounds good?"

"I've been hit many times on the head when I practiced dodging with Liz. I've become very resilient against pain. It'll be okay."

"Good. Before we begin, have you done mindfulness meditation before?"

"I tried for about twelve seconds before I got bored with it. Why?"

"We'll start with that. Just a bit. The trick is to acknowledge the emotion but to not let it steer you. Meditation works on a similar principle, but with thoughts. Might be a better start since thoughts are easier to spot."

"Did you do this specific training before with someone?"

"Nope, I'm mostly mixing my HEMA experience with my experience in handling dangerous animals here."

"That sentence is a bit degrading, but also kind of hot, to be honest." Sarah turned to face me and gave me a wink.

"Don't let those emotions distract you either."

"... I'm starting to have regrets." # The training was incredibly frustrating, but then that was the point. We had kept the meditation part short, but she took her time to explain the basics and recommended I'd find time for it every day. Easy to say when there is nothing else to do in the apocalypse. Then we moved on to the practical part. With Might of the Meek and Dense Musculature, the honey badger was one hell of a grappler.

So my task was simply to get my hands, or rather paws, on Sarah while she harassed me with a bo, a Japanese type of quarterstaff, and evaded my attempts to get up close and personal. Which she was annoyingly good at. She also kept a close eye on the way I was acting. Every time I let my frustrations guide me, she'd stop and ask, "Thoughts or feelings?" Not the kind of date I had imagined this would be. At least whenever I did land a grip on her, she'd topple easily, thanks to my massive weight advantage.

Grappling was a natural weapon skill, too. So by the time midnight rolled around, I'd reached level 5 already, thanks to Lethal Adaptation increasing the speed I trained those.

"Okay, I need a break. I have to look over today's options. Actually, I think I'm done with exercise for today." I canceled out of the honey badger shape and sat down on the soft floor.

"Options?"

"I get some temporary shapes every day. And since yesterday, they all come with mythical powers, associated with Norse mythology." Sarah sat down across from me. At least our training had left her winded, too.

"Remind me to ask you more about this tomorrow. Even if you explained it now, I don't think my brain could retain anything anymore. What did you get?" I looked over my list and got the desire to punch Fate in the face. Probably the intended effect.

"Heimdall-touched American barn owl, Baldur-touched gorilla, and… Fenrir-touched Ussuri boar."

"You don't sound too happy with that selection? Out of those three, I only really know about Fenrir."

"It's not even the associated entities. I just can't help but notice that at least two of those seem a bit judgmental, considering yesterday's anger issues." Sarah shook her head.

"If anything, only the boar. Gorillas are very gentle souls. They have very specific rituals to solve conflicts, and those look threatening. They barely ever get into fights among each other, though. What's Baldur's deal, though?"

"Uhm. I think he's universally beloved, associated with light and maybe the sun, and nearly entirely invincible. If the instincts really aren't this aggressive… this might be one of my stronger combat shapes so far." I stood up and held out a hand for Sarah.

"How about we—" An ear-piercing distortion from the speakers and a flicker of the room's lights interrupted me. The distortion continued for a moment, modulating in a pattern similar to speech, but nothing I could parse.

"What the—" A new voice came from the speaker.

"Apologies for the sudden interruption, but—" It wasn't any voice I could identify.

"They are going to come down on us like goddamn locusts. We'll have to—" said another voice over the speaker, before it too got cut off. Something dawned on me.

"I think those are recorded voices. From people in the tower. Are you trying to talk to us?"

"Why, yes indeed, I am," said yet another voice.

"What's happening?" Sarah asked.

"This place will look like a warzone soon. We have to get ready, or they'll eat us alive," replied yet another voice. I pulled Sarah out of the room with me. There'd been a security post nearby.

"Do you have them on camera? Can you show us?" I asked.

"Certainly, ma'am. At your service." In the small room, the tower showed us the invaders on the security feeds. The shimmering shapes of seven demon scouts, prowling through the upper floors of the tower.

"If you can, please turn on every light in the tower," I said while I picked up the phone. I dialed zero-zero-zero for the reception.