Chapter Eight - Barbarian Buddies

“I want to fight you,” Saka said.

I stared at him for a moment. “Are you entirely certain?” I asked.

The man nodded, and so did his muscle-bound barbarian buddies. “I am. You can tell a lot about the worth of a man--” one of the sect members coughed. “Of a person, by how they fight. That’s how we do things at the Lava Fist sect.”

“Why person instead of man?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“We’re trying to be more inclusive,” he said.

I nodded. “How very kind of you,” I said. “I’m afraid that a fight between us wouldn’t end very well for you. I don’t doubt that you’re a spectacular pugilist, but that would place you at a disadvantage when fighting me. Would you perhaps like to fight my maid instead? He’s more of a physical combatant.”

“You think I’d lose against you?” Saka asked as he leaned forwards. He seemed excited at the prospect, and I could understand why. Men like him tended to learn a lot from a loss.

“I am fast and strong,” I said. “But I am predominately a wizard. I suspect that even your disciples have better technique than I do.” I gestured to where the limpet was currently being baptista bombed by a boy that had to outweigh her three times over.

She made a very strange gurgling sound on impact. I made a mental note to fix her later.

“My speciality is large-scale destruction magics and very precise micro spellwork,” I continued. “Neither lend themselves to a satisfying battle.”

Saka crossed his arms, then flexed his muscles. “Fine then. What about your maid?” He pointed to Alex. “That’s just a catdude in a dress.”

“Saka,” one of the guys said. “Bro, we talked about being inclusive and stuff man. You can’t just forget. Everybro’s a bro.”

“Right,” Saka said. “Sorry maid bro.”

“It’s alright?” Alex said.

“Would you mind terribly fighting these young men, Alex? I suspect there’s no need to hold back,” I said.

Alex nodded. “Certainly.”

Saka jumped to his feet, eager grin on, and fists so tight his knuckles popped. “Alright, let’s do this!”

“Actually, I did have some questions. I think that our deal was contingent on that?”

Saka deflated a bit. He looked like a boy who’d just learned that he had to do his chores before he could play. Then he perked up. “My bros can answer for me,” he said.

That was acceptable. “In that case, enjoy yourself.”

The space in the middle of the sect’s garden was cleared out. The disciples rushed to the side where some waist-high wooden walls were set with benches behind them, and someone dragged the insensate limpet off to a door marked ‘infirmary.’

A glance at Saka revealed him to be a fair bit stronger than Alex.

Saka Firefist, Brobarian of the Lava Fist, level 458

He was definitely the highest-leveled human I’d seen so far. Still, Alex could hold his own, and in either case, it would be a learning experience.

“So,” I asked the other members of the sect. “I’m here for two things. A certain ancient item of power called a font, and to learn of the location of a group called the Dread Knights. Possibly the Dead Knights.”

One of them nodded. “The Dread Knights are a real big problem. They’re these incredibly tough skeletal warriors from the far North. And they occupy some of the islands nearby with their army of the undead. Every few years they’ll raid down from the top of the Flaming Steppes.”

“They used to be able to sweep through the whole region and into the mainland,” another said. “But their raids have grown weaker, and we’ve grown stronger. Now most of the sects in the Flaming Steppes can stop them before they get too far.”

“Truly?” I asked. “Even the Dread Knights themselves?”

“Nah, those are too tough. But that Insect God calls the steppes her home, and when they come down she’ll often fight them herself, or with her daughters.” The man gestured to our mantis friend who was fretting off to the side while Alex and Saka prepared to fight. “With them we can push the Dread Knights back.”

“I see,” I said.

Saka shifted, one foot sliding across the gravelly ground and his stance lowering while his arms rose, fists poised to strike.

Alex bowed to him, then stood tall, feet together and back straight, as demure a pose as could be expected from a maid.

“Are you ready, maid bro?” Saka asked.

“I am, mister Saka,” Alex said.

Saka burst forward with impressive speed, his fist lashing out with a thundering boom and a burst of flame.

Alex spun around the blow, and moved into Saka’s guard. One of his arms swung, the flat of his hand aiming towards Saka’s face.

It was intercepted midway by Saka’s forearm. The collision set off an explosion of gravel and wind that set Alex’s dress fluttering.

“You’re quite strong,” Alex said.

“You’re not bad,” Saka replied. He bounced back, reset his stance, then burst forward again.

Alex slapped the first strike aside, weaved around the next, then stuck out with the flat of his palm.

Saka twisted out of the blow’s path and rammed a quick hook into Alex’s side.

My maid went flying, but while in mid-air he spun and used the flaring of his skirt to slow himself down to a dead stop and came to a gentle landing on the point of a foot.

The ground exploded under where Alex landed as he shot out towards Saka.

“Kill the idiot, stupid maid!” Rem cheered. “And bring me the corpse, I’m hungry!”

Alex and Saka traded blows at speeds that the average human would have a difficult time seeing as anything but blurs. Saka was faster and stronger, that much was immediately obvious, and his technique was brutal and straight forwards.

Alex, on the other hand, had an easier time ducking and weaving out of Saka’s way, his footwork, partially hidden by his skirt, was on a whole different level, and he tended to be more flexible about his angles of attack, hitting from above with little leaps, and spinning on the ground to sweep at Saka’s feet.

The uppersect members were all leaning forwards, paying rapt attention to the fight, and cheering raucously whenever Alex or Saka landed a hit.

I was quite bored with it after a few moments. Saka’s ‘lava fists’ was an interesting technique, but some observation revealed it to be little more than a very odd, very wasteful casting of something akin to fireball. It was impressive, but more so because he wasn’t lighting himself on fire than because of any additional damage.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” I said as I moved over to the infirmary.

Alex had switched over to using a meat tenderizing hammer to fight. Each aborted blow sent tremors through the ground and made the sect buildings rumble in place. The locals didn’t seem to mind all that much, and I suspected that this wasn’t the first or last fight that would occur here.

The infirmary wasn’t locked, likely for obvious reasons, and held a surprising number of beds, many of them currently filled with young men and some young women.

A woman in a simple white gown walked over to me with the sort of expression I’d come to expect from medical workers. “What do you want?” she snapped.

“My apprentice is here,” I said.

“Which one is that? I’ve got thirteen ‘young masters’ in here with broken arms, legs, ribs, two jaws, a skull fracture, one with a dislocated spine and one with a urinary infection.”

“A urinary infection?” I wondered.

She scoffed. “He played the noble son routine and some idiot local bought it up. Now he’s here with his manhood aflame. Closest he’ll ever come to being a Lava Fist if you ask me.”

Someone groaned in the background.

“My apprentice is a young woman. Approximately this height. Dark hair, glasses. Checkered shawl over a kimono.”

“Oh, her,” the woman said. “She’s basically dead.”

I nodded. That sounded reasonable. “Entirely, or only at death’s door?” I asked.

“Eh, she’s still in one piece. And breathing even. I give her maybe a few hours.”

“I see, I see. You don’t seem phased by that.”

“Do you have any idea how often the idiots in this place get hurt? They’re getting better about it now, but it used to be that they thought it was macho not to worry about injuries. Look at the old guard and start counting limbs. I bet that three-quarters of the missing ones were taken by infections, stories about tiger bites be damned.”

I nodded. “Interesting, but not something terribly new. Fools and their limbs are easily parted. Speaking of which, my nearly-dead apprentice?”

“Oh, she’s here.” The woman moved to the back of the room, very easily ignoring all the cries for help and pleas for mothers, gods, and other divine assistance until she stopped by a bed where the limpet was resting. Her dog was laying next to her, letting out pitiful whines with every exhaled breath.

“You let the dog stay?” I asked.

“It can hardly make it worse,” the woman said. “You going to dispose of the body?”

“Eventually, but she’s still alive,” I said. I placed a hand on her head and took stock of things.

Name

Class

Secondary Class

Fenfang Fang

Warlock

N/A

Race

Alignment

Human

Neutral Neutral

Current Level

EXP to Next Level

21

498

Hit Points

12/114

Armour Proficiency

Light

Armour Class

10

Resistances

None

Flaws

Shortsighted

Concussed

Broken Limbed

Near Death

Affinities

Rapid Learning

She was making very good progress so far. If a little slowly. Still, more than a level a day was acceptable. I expected it to slow down soon, but until then that was good work.

I pressed a hand to her chest.

“Greater Cure Wounds.”

The limpet’s bones snapped back into place with satisfying little snaps and she soon gasped awake. “M-Master!” The dog barked and shoved his face into the limpet’s chest, his entire body trembling with excitement.

“Yes?” I asked as I removed my hand.

“I’m alive?” she asked. “All I remember is, uh, some boy grabbing me very rudely, and then, um, am I in a hospital?”

“That sounds correct, and yet, you are. An infirmary, at least.”

“Oh,” she said. “Did I mess up?”

“No, you did well enough, about as well as I would expect. Did you learn anything?”

The limpet stared at the ceiling for a moment, absently petting her dog. “I need better spells.”

“That is certainly one of the lessons you could have learned. Anything else?”

She sighed. “I need to learn how to cast faster, and while distracted.”

“Wonderful! Now, once Alex has won or lost, we can see about getting another sparring session going. I’m certain the locals wouldn’t mind facing off against you again.”

“I’m pretty sure that I mind,” the limpet said.

I looked at her for a moment. “Power, not in this modern system-less world, and not in the greater world of the past, did not come to those who didn’t put in the effort to grasp it.”

“I know, I know,” she said. She rubbed her dog’s head a last time, then shifted to the side of the bed. “Alright, fine. As long as you heal me again after.”

“I think I’ll just teach you Cure Wounds. It’s an evocation spell. Perhaps you can help those in here, or at least practice on them.”

She perked up. “That sounds a lot more fun.”

“I’d imagine,” I said.

I stepped out of the infirmary, the limpet following after me, and found the stony garden turned into quite the mess. The decorative stones were mostly torn apart, a lot of the gravel was melting in pools of bubbling magma, and in the middle of it all a Saka that looked like a lava elemental was swinging at a still-impeccable Alex.

“They’re still at it?” I wondered. At this rate it would take forever to get some answers.

***