Mature Content Warning: None in this chapter segment.

Author's Note: So, now we end chapter 18... and... an interesting fact is revealed.. ooooh. I hope you don't mind detailed move-by-move battle scenes as I tend to write those, and well that's most of what this segment is. His training continues and he has begun to put his basic techniques that both the skill and his Valkyrie task master have revealed to him.

Chapter 18.3: Basic Training - Valkyrie Booty Campy

It was a simple dance, something that even the least athletic or graceful person could perform. The steady rhythm of sword on wood or metal was one that Blackthorne could easily manage versus his current opponents. Zombies were slow and lacked much in the way of grace. However, some of them retained a small amount of their weapons training and could use weapon and shield to a minor degree.

Blackthorne had killed off the zombies in the area to the extent that it would take a month for them to respawn to any great degree, but he did not need many of them for his current purposes. In fact, the five that he currently fought with were all that he needed.

A rust-covered axe swept sluggishly toward him and Blackthorne hopped back while simultaneously whirling his sword around. The blade slapped almost gently against the shaft of the axe, but the combined momentum of his counter-deflection and the momentum of the axe swing caused the zombie to become severely off-balanced. It fell over and to the side in a heap. It had taken no injuries, but it was out of the fight for the moment.

Several weak attacks headed toward him, but the speed of the assaults was laughable. Blackthorne dodged one, used the strong of his blade to deflect another, and then performed a spinning motion that allowed him to launch a sweep-kick to the back of the third zombie’s ankles. The best was knocked to the ground with a loud moan and the rattle of rusted chainmail.

Zombies were slow, stupid, and weak. However, they could use weapons. The zombies found in this graveyard waffled between level four and seven during the day, but up to level eleven at night. A level eleven zombie was only a little tougher than the level seven variety. Their attack power and ability to mitigate physical damage was higher, but their speed was terrible.

Blackthorne twisted slightly as he received a badly aimed punch toward his head, and rolled with the attack so that he could whip his sword around and slashed ruthlessly at the fifth zombie’s exposed ribcage. He had received no damage from the assault due to the use of his growing knowledge of heavy armor related damage mitigation.

The key to proper use of his type of armor was to withstand blows, but to do so while redirecting their force. If he moved at just the right moment, a large portion of the attacking force would be harmlessly redirected and his armor would not be as badly damaged. It would also lessen penetration damage, the term used to describe the blunt force trauma of a heavy impact’s energy traveling through armor.

If he could avoid an attack do so. However, moving in the same direction as an attacker’s strike, or redirecting the force was best if he could not. Total acceptance of the attack was a last resort and would only be done if avoidance or redirection were impossible.

An axe swung down toward him with great force, but he slipped to the side at the last moment, and then whirled his blade around to strike at the wrist of the zombie who had tried to cleave him in half. Had the monster been truly alive, that would have done great damage or at least led to a possible disarm as the hand would have probably opened due to the shock. Blackthorne had not expected the monster to drop its axe, but he still needed to practice such techniques.

The axe zombie was dragged forward slightly by the blow, and before it could recover, Blackthorne swept its feet out from under it. While it struggled to get to its feet once more, the dragon in human form turned to try and deflect another sword strike.

He knocked the sword slightly to the side then immediately reversed his grip on his own weapon and swept his blade forward to slash at the zombies throat. Blackthorne brought his weapon around and allowed his grip to return to normal during the momentum of his swing. In order to provide greater balance and power he slipped his other hand to the pommel of his sword just before he finished his combination movement with a powerful two-handed overhand strike to the zombie’s left shoulder.

The rotten, jerky-like, meat of the zombies flesh had the consistency of hardboiled leather. He heard the sound of ancient bones creaking under the force of his blow, but the weapon’s resistance of the creature was quite high.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately if one considered his current training method, the energy emitted by his Death’s Steel Longsword did not cause damage to the monster. Sometimes he almost suspected that it healed them slightly, but it was hard to tell due to the low-effectiveness of the permanent enchantment on his blade.

Blackthorne took two proper steps forward and rotated his blade in his hand in the process so that he would be perfectly set for another, much lighter, overhand strike to the zombie coming at him from behind his most recent opponent. This strike was the setup for the feint maneuver he had been taught earlier. He threatened his opponent with the tip of his blade in an overhand strike, and the zombie made a feeble attempt to block.

His blade barely kissed the side of his opponent’s sword during his half-step back, a sign that his timing was slightly off, but he still managed to perform the maneuver by slipping forward and tagging the monster beneath the chin with the tip of his blade.

Blackthorne performed a quickly diagonal step forward and to the left then used his blade to knock his opponent’s sword to the side. He kicked at the back of the zombie’s knee to break its limited attempt at a proper fighting stance then performed a retreating sideways slash to the side of its neck. He continued the attack sequence that he had devised by moving diagonally forward once more just before he cut a hard slash across the back of its head. A swift boot to the back of its other knee, and then a shoulder bash between the shoulder blades, sent it crashing forward to the ground.

He received a hard strike on his left arm that made him flinch, but thankfully his armor held. One of the other sword wielding zombies had returned to the fray.

Blackthorne used the strong of his blade to push the zombie’s sword to the side as it had not recovered completely from its attack, and then used his left hand to grip its wrist. He twisted his body and applied the strong of his blade to the spot just behind the zombie’s elbow and used its forearm like a fulcrum.

His weight and leverage were applied in a somewhat sloppy, but effective manner and the zombie was sent flying forward to the ground. It lots its grip on its sword in the process, but Blackthorne chose to leave it were it had fallen. If he was lucky, the creature would realize its location and pick it up. In a true battle, he would have taken it and stuck it in his bag to prevent his opponent from rearming themselves, but he actually wanted these slow moving idiots to have weapons.

The battle, such as it was, continued like that for several hours. He received very few attacks that he could not avoid or deflect, but each of those strikes left temporary bruises that told the tale of his failure. His body healed quickly, but his memory of being struck remained. Each of those solid strikes to the body could have been deadly in a dire battle. He had to improve, had to become better than what he was capable of doing now.

He fought till the light of dawn brought a new day to the world, and then decided to end things. One by one, he knocked the zombies to the ground with a series of inexpert but decent frame-breaking strikes, strikes designed to break an enemy’s stance and posture such as kicking the back of the knees, and then ran away a short distance to chant one of his least used spells. He drew in enough mana to cast his spell and then began his chat.

~ Death’s Embrace need not falter. Abominations of the wasteland return to thy eternal reward. ~

“ Dark Judgment! ”

Waves of fire raced outward from beneath the target of his spell then formed into a perfect circle. Dark energy swirled and formed into shadowy chains that had wickedly barbed hooks formed on the ends. Those horrific hooks pierced the zombie and it screamed out in abject terror. It was only the sound that a thing dead a damned for all eternity could make. Just like every other time that the spell had been used, which was not with any great frequency, something dark and diseased looking that was vaguely human in form was ripped out of the desiccated body then dragged into the earth.

A wave of dark energy raced outward and made contact with the other zombies as they were closely grouped together.

The remaining monstrosities immediately screeched in terror and began to panic, despite their undead nature. The power that they had sensed was terrible enough to frighten even the evil dead. They began to frantically attempt to crawl away with all the speed that their badly battered forms could muster.

Blackthorne immediately raced over and performed a maneuver that he liked to call the monkey stomp. He leapt into the air then stomped downward with both feet as he landed atop one of his opponents. He repeated the process three more times then moved to a proper position to cast his spell again.

He drew up enough mana to cast his spell and after he did so, he performed his monkey stomping procedure. He continued to send the souls of the evil dead back to the abyss until the remaining zombies were defeated. The spell took a while to activate, but its effectiveness against something as weak as a zombie was one hundred percent.

Blackthorne sighed in contentment but his limited joy was disturbed by a frightful warbling. He turned to see that his

Shadow wisp was rapidly roiling with light and color. “Hey, you alright wispy?”

The Shadow wisp made a noise that sounded strangely like a whimper. It took a moment, but then he realized what was wrong. Technically, his wisp was an undead minion. He did not know if it was evil per se, but it was probably not a nice person earlier in its existence if he could conjure it as a night light.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do that to you.” he said. In all honesty, he had thought about it. Wouldn’t he be able to maximize his training if he conjured the wisp, sent its soul to the abyss, and then conjured another wisp? It made perfect sense, really. Yet, he could not do that. It was an abhorrent thought.

Sure, if he really had been playing a game, there would be thousands of the things sent to the abyss by now, care of his desire to be stronger. However, since this was reality and the wisp was some sort of person he could not do that.

The wisp did not seem certain of his words. It drifted away from him a little then flickered slightly. It was as though it were trying to say, “I’m not sure if I believe you...”

Blackthorne smiled lightly. “If I were going to do such a thing, wouldn’t I? Besides, you’re a treasured member of the group you know.”

The wisp flickered again, briefly then seemed to hesitate. After a moment it floated a little closer then flickered once more. Blackthorne got the impression that it was trying to say, “Really...?”

“You know, I have good night vision since I’m a dragon, but you still help out a lot when we fight at night or in underground places. I can fight better because of you.” he said.

Blackthorne took a breath then continued. “You are truly helpful and I appreciate you for providing light to help me face the darkness. I promise, that I would never deliberately hurt you, or break whatever trust you might have in me.”

Sure, he had hammed it up a little, but he actually liked the timid little wisp. It seemed to have a personality at times and he did not want to hurt whatever feelings the thing might have. The last thing that he wanted to do was to cause it problems. It probably lived a rather horrible lifestyle when it was not hanging out with him.

The Shadow Wisp stopped completely. Its misty mass froze in place and then, surprisingly, its luminescence turned a vivid shade of pink.

Blackthorne did not need to guess what it was thinking now. Little fluttery mist shaped hearts began to float upward from its mass.

A soft and sweet whisper entered his ear. “Your intimacy with your conjured minion, the Shadow Wisp, has increased. She will now shine a little more brightly, just for you.... You stud, you.”

“Holy shit. The wisp is a girl?” asked Blackthorne in surprise.

A softly warbled sound reminiscent of a girlish giggle emanated from the Shadow Wisp. Her misty mass shifted and then became slightly more coherent. The vaguely humanoid form that it had sometimes worn before became even more defined.

Oh yes, she was definitely a girl. Her decidedly feminine architecture was still a bit fuzzy, but what there was of it was certainly enough to convince him of her femininity.