by J. T. Wright
Even a young Elwire was resilient. The half-blade of Trent’s knife cut and absorbed the hard wood, but, because he could not make much noise without drawing attention, it took Trent an hour to fall a single six-foot sapling. He chipped and sawed more than he hacked and often stopped to listen for approaching footsteps.
Stripping the small tree of branches and leaves took nearly as long. Once he had a straight staff, he stored the wood, collected the trimmed branches, and, switching knives, started on another. Cutting through a single Elwire only restored a small percentage of Sorrow and Strife, but there were dozens of trees. By the time Trent was ready to begin his project, ten Elwires occupied his Storage, and his knives had grown from half an inch to nearly two inches long.
With a six-foot length resting on his knees, Trent envisioned the spears he had seen Guardsmen train with. Along with the image came a feeling of disquiet. He had never trained with a spear, and, like other times when he considered doing something unnecessary, he could hear Sergeant Cullen telling him to think carefully.
Actually, the booming words in his head told him not to be stupid. They said to concentrate on what he knew and not go pissing about inventing trouble. Was Trent a Spearman now? Had he become a Weapons Master while turning cartwheels on the road to Bellrise? Maybe he should pull his head out of his ass and remember that his sword techniques were better developed than all his other Skills!
The blade that formed under his knife was thin and three feet long. Single-edged with a slight curve, it resembled an Al’rashian longsword without a crossguard and lacked the comforting weight of a metal blade. A test with his thumb told him the edge was dull, and Appraisal confirmed this. Trent had created a training sword with a Damage Rating of 1.
He produced a vial of Liquid Silver with the intent of coating the wooden blade but pulled back. This was wasteful! How much damage could a training blade do even when covered in corrosive poison? He should carve all the wood away and try to restore his knives.
The Dog sleeping beside him woke up and yawned. Brown eyes blinked up at Trent, and a black tail began to sweep the ground. Trent sighed and rubbed the back of the Dog’s neck.
“What would you know? I had to try!” He muttered at the puppy, tossing the failed sword aside and setting his hands on his knees. “It wouldn’t have been a waste of time if it had worked.”
The Dog yawned at him again and nudged his hand. Its nose pushed against the red jewel set in the knuckle of his glove. Brown eyes questioned him silently.
“You think I should see what happens?” The Dog’s head tilted and one of its ears perked up. “Fine, what do I have to lose? Besides one of the few effective weapons I have.”
Trent retrieved the wooden sword and opened the vial of Liquid Silver. He meticulously applied the poison to the blade, attempting to coat the entire length. The pores of the Elwire wood seemed to suck the Liquid Silver up. When Trent finished, he could see no noticeable difference in his homemade weapon.
“I told you,” he rebuked the Dog. “I don’t know what I was thinking, trusting you to…”
Trent was about to toss the useless blade in his hand aside again when it caught fire. Bright, flickering light filled the grove as a pure flame erupted. The heat of the flame would have been welcomed if it had not been so damning. Trent had counted at least three Wererats that patrolled the perimeter of the grove in irregular intervals. If one were doing its rounds now, there was no way they would miss the flare in Trent’s hands.
“No, no, no!” Trent hissed. He waved the burning blade futilely, trying to cast the flame aside. He was about to attempt plunging the wood into the ground, when it occurred to him that he had a more practical solution. Fire Manipulation had been used to keep him warm in this Trial, but that was hardly its purpose.
Connecting with the flame using his Ability, Trent tried to put it out, to disperse it. Nothing happened. It was his first time working with a flame besides a campfire or that he had created with a charm, and though he could feel it, it didn’t respond to his will.
He concentrated, wrapping the flame in his Mana. He could not put it out, but that wasn’t something he had ever tried to do before. Most of his practice had been in controlling the intensity at which a fire burned or shone.
Trent pushed at the flame, not outwards but inwards. He begged it to dim its light, to burn softer, to withdraw into the wood. The fire responded, although not in the way Trent expected. All at once, the fire dove into the blade. There was a rush of wind, and the smell of fresh cinnamon and honeysuckle filled the air, refreshing, spicy, and sweet.
Trent let out a soft sigh of relief. The yellow wooden blade had turned ashen and felt even lighter than before. It was still a waste, but at least the fire was out, and his hiding place had not been exposed.
He looked down at the wide eyes of the Dog. “You shouldn’t worry so much. I know what I’m doing.”
The puppy might have disagreed with this statement, but Trent was spared its judgment. The Dog’s attention went from Trent to the form that was rushing through the Elwire grove, ignoring the cuts it accumulated from the sharp leaves tearing through its skin. One Wererat had noticed Trent’s experiment and had decided to object.
Trent came to his feet. His shield formed on his arm even as he realized Sorrow and Strife lay forgotten on the ground. His few remaining vials of Liquid Silver were locked away in Storage, and the only weapon at hand was the ashen branch in his hand.
He had only cleared a ten-foot section of the grove cutting down the Elwires, and unless he wanted his own skin torn to shreds running through the leaves, there was nowhere for him to move to. The Wererat’s first blow knocked his shield aside, and a second set of claws slashed his mail, slicing his chest.
Trent swung the wooden blade in his hand instinctively. The sword slammed into the Wererat’s paw as it drew back to strike at his throat. It screamed as its stubby fingers were cut away, and it jumped backward, hunching over.
The ash of Trent’s blade fell away. Underneath, the yellow wood had turned black. Trent had carved the sword to have about a palm’s width, but all that was left now was about two inches. Judging from the severed fingers on the forest floor and the blood that spurted from the Wererat’s stumps, the edge of the blade was not dull anymore.
Trent followed up his first cut with a slash. Three bleeding wounds decorated his chest, and it was only fair the Wererat experienced that indignity itself. Blood flew as fur and hide parted. Twisting his wrist, Trent cut into the paw that attempted to bat his blade aside, and when the Wererat stepped back, Trent thrust, piercing the Beast’s heart and ending its life.
The corpse collapsed at his feet, and he wrenched his sword free to stare at the blade wonderingly. The puppy pounced forward and seized the Wererat’s foot in its mouth, biting savagely and growling in victory.
Trent looked down at him. He had been thinking of the Dog as an it to keep his distance, but the pup was clearly male. Watching the Dog pulling at the corpse, Trent noticed that even with the Wererat dead, the Dog’s teeth could not penetrate the Rat’s hide.
“Stop that!” Trent said, pushing the Dog back with his foot. The pup dropped to his haunches and perked up both its ears. “You can’t eat it.”
The Dog’s nose wrinkled, and it sneezed, expressing its disgust at the very idea. Trent shook his head. He had to stop interpreting the animal’s random actions as attempts to communicate. The Dog wasn’t as intelligent as the mare he had once ridden, after all.
Turning his attention back to his new sword, Trent Appraised the blade.
Imbued Elwire Longsword
Basic item/Average Quality
Damage Rating +20
Permeated with refined Liquid Silver from a Wolf Vine’s petal, this blade will do +30 Damage to the Moon Cursed.
Trent whistled softly as he read the description. This accidental creation did more additional damage than any blade he had ever wielded. The Damage Rating alone was almost as good as the
second form of Sorrow and Strife. When combined with the bonuses from Military Fencing and his mastery of Basic Longsword…as long as it didn’t break…
Trent used the Elwire sword to Harvest the Wererat’s Core. The blade parted the Beast’s hide with hardly any effort. After he collected the drops, Trent sat down and added three more teeth to his knife’s length.
They restored less than one percent to the blades, but Trent no longer felt discouraged by the minuscule progress. His armor was broken now. Appraisal said the Wererat’s claws had dropped its Defensive Rating to 2. It was a good thing he had a reliable means of defense in his new sword. He had a weapon, the resources to restore Sorrow and Strife and time, and all the time in the world!
He lost himself to carving new weapons out of the remaining nine Elwires he had already cut down. After whittling two short swords out of a single log, he received a welcome notification.
You have learned Weapons Crafting Level 1. You will now find it easier to craft simple weapons. +1 Dexterity. +1 Wisdom. 200 Experience for learning Class related Skill.
Trent worked in a frenzy. He carved the remaining logs into various types of swords and knives, and when he ran out of wood, he collected more and continued. Weapons Crafting reached Level 3 and provided another point to his Dexterity, before he concluded that creating the same types of weapons repeatedly no longer raised the Skill.
Best of all, the wood that Sorrow and Strife had absorbed increased their restoration to eighty percent. He used two more complete Elwires to finish what he had started and Appraised the results. The axes, the first form, had their Damage Rating back at 15 and as knives, the soul-bound weapons were at 25 again. Seeing that he could channel his spells through the knife form, now that they were repaired, caused Trent to chuckle wickedly.
This sound caused the Dog, asleep tucked in beside his leg, to wake up and whine. Trent ruffled his ears absently as he considered the armory laid out in the grass. The original sword had not degraded yet, leaving Trent to hope the imbuing process had solved that issue.
If so, five more blades could be coated and turned into real weapons without the worry that he was wasting his resources. Even if the corrosive effect of the Liquid Silver was only delayed, putting them in Storage would keep them sound until he needed them. Trent picked out two short swords and three longswords that he was happy with and stored the rest away.
Sorrow and Strife were settled on his hips as Trent stood and stretched, a vial of poison in one hand and a wooden short sword in the other. His movements disturbed the Dog, and he sat up and yipped. Trent frowned.
“We have a problem,” he said, lifting his mask to peer at the animal with an uncovered face. “You’re going to die here.” The Dog’s ears wilted.
“You have no pack and no way to hunt,” Trent continued mercilessly. “The only way you will level up is to join my party, my pack.”
Feeling a fool, Trent extended an invitation with his Leadership Skill. The Dog was an animal, not a Beast, certainly not a high-leveled intelligent Beast. It probably would not understand what was happening.
Trent felt a tug in his chest as the Dog accepted his invite. His hand went to his sternum, and he rubbed at his chest through the hole in his armor and shirt. He winced as his fingers flaked away the scab that had formed there. In his excitement, he had forgotten to take care of the wound. Checking his Status, he saw he was still down 30 HP. That shocked him enough that he disregarded the strange feeling that forming the party had caused. It had not been more than a scratch, and he lost 30 HP! Balm restored 3 HP per use, and Trent started casting as he considered his new party member.
With Tersa and Orion, Trent had been able to see their Levels and Health when he concentrated on the party link. He also had a vague sense of their position and Skills. With the Dog, all Trent got was that it - he - was a Level 1 animal with 30 HP. Trent’s brow furrowed.
If the Dog had any Skills, Trent could not tell what they were, and yet, he had seen the animal take a hit as hard as the one he had taken. It should have killed the Dog, but he had walked away with a limp.
The Dog hopped and pranced around the feet of its new pack leader, oblivious to Trent’s suspicions. The pup rubbed against Trent’s legs and pulled at his pants. It wanted something from him.
“No, I’m not giving you a name.” Trent met the Dog’s expectant gaze. “That’s not my place. I will call you Pup, but it is not a name. Do you understand?”
He squatted down and leaned over Pup to impress upon the Dog his seriousness. Pup placed his front paws on Trent’s knees. He had to leap to deliver a lick of agreement.
Pushing the Dog away, Trent wiped his face and pulled his mask back on. He now had another reason not to take it off. The wound on his chest was healed, but he continued to apply pressure on the area it had been. He could still feel an ache there, not on the surface but beneath the muscle. He checked his Health pool and double-checked his Status, but his Health remained full. If he had been poisoned, the effects weren’t apparent.
Enough! He had work to do. Telling Pup to stand back, Trent armed himself with a wooden short sword and took out a vial of Liquid Silver. The process was the same, and as the liquid burned and imbued the wood, a chittering call sounded through the woods, and a Wererat rushed for him.
“Time to level up, Pup!” Trent met the running Beast at the end of the clearing he had created. It dropped to all fours and lunged for him, but Trent stepped to the side and used Long Slash to remove a front limb and carve a bloody groove in the Beast’s side. It fell to the ground with a wail.
Trent would have finished it off ,but his pyrotechnic performance had brought him two Wererats, the second following on the heels of the first. The second howled with its Paralyzing Skill, and Trent gritted his teeth as he felt his body start to seize up.
Pivoting, Trent angled his body and extended his arm in a thrust before the Skill could take hold completely. The charging Beast impaled itself through the throat on the tip of his short sword. Its Skill failed as life fled the Beast, and Trent was free to move again.
The first Wererat had recovered and lashed out at him with its remaining arm as he was turning. Using Parry, Trent struck the back of the Beast’s claws, intent on forcing the Beast’s arm out of position. The imbued short sword was too effective for this maneuver, and Trent found himself removing half the Wererat’s hand instead.
Teeth snapped in his face, and blood sprayed across his torso as the Beast came on undeterred. Elbowing the creature’s jaw, Trent stepped back and delivered a backhanded swat. He brought the flat of his blade slamming into the Beast’s eye, and there was a popping, sizzling sound as the weapon made contact. The Wererat reeled back, clutching at its ruined face. The imbued short sword only needed to touch to deliver the 30 extra damage it promised.
Basic Small Blades now Level 5. +1 Dexterity.
The notification came as Trent slit the throat of the Wererat, putting it out of its misery. That was one of the conditions of leveling his Survivalist Class, level 5 Basic Small Blades and 4000 XP. He was over 1000 XP short, but that was a small matter. At 100 experience apiece, the Wererats would provide what he needed soon.
A little longer, now that Trent was sharing the XP from his kills with a mooching Dog, but the Moonlit Forest was filled with Wererats. Trent could spare a bit for Pup. When he cut out the Cores and found Pup sitting up on his hind legs, his front paws curled against his chest, staring at one of the Cores and whining, Trent started to have second thoughts.
“You want this?” Trent held up the Core in question. Pup’s eyes grew wider. “Sure, why not?”
The Core was almost as big as the Dog’s head. Thinking the animal would get tired of the toy quickly, Trent tossed it to him. When Pup pounced and started licking the Core, Trent thought hunger had gotten to the animal. The Winter Wolves had said hunger sharpened the hunter, but they had not turned down a meat skewer. Was Trent going to have to feed this freeloading scavenger?
&n
bsp; The Core dwindled beneath the Dog’s tongue, and Trent’s jaw dropped. When the Core disappeared, and Pup looked up with a burp, Trent almost dissolved the link connecting them. The Cores were the only decent loot this Trial provided. In the back of Trent’s mind, he already saw himself trading them for new clothing, armor, and supplies. It was unacceptable for the Dog to eat them.
Then Pup howled.
“Arooow!” It was a weak, pathetic sound that Tersa would have described as cute. However, Trent did not find him cute. He shivered as a Skill washed over him. As a party member, Trent was mostly protected from the effects, but his legs still stiffened briefly.
Pup had just learned the Were-Beast’s Paralyzing Skill.
Chapter Twelve
You have learned Sewing Level 1. You will now find it easier to repair and create items made from cloth and leather. +1 Dexterity. +1 Wisdom.
The notification confirmed a suspicion that had lingered in the back of Trent’s mind. Learning Skills manually provided an increase in Wisdom that Skill Stones did not. He would need to discover more Skills that could be acquired this way. His Mana regeneration was still abysmal, and only Wisdom could cure that.
Trent held up his shirt and examined it with a critical eye. It had been repaired by unskilled hands, and that was apparent. Sewing revealed all the things he had done wrong, which was basically everything. The stitch was too loose, the knot was on the wrong side, and he had used the incorrect knot at the beginning and end. All in all, the Mend charm would have done a better, cleaner job, but Mend did not provide increases to his Attributes.
