Aeres Academy - Chapter 6 preview

There is a reason I fought unarmed and it had a lot to do with familiarity. While I had trained with weapons a little, I rarely pressure tested myself with them. I certainly never pressure tested any of my skills against monsters. Having watched some of the other Ternioth fighters train their katas during the occasional celebrations and shows held through the city, it was clear that some of the forms and movements were markedly different than my own, human-specialized ones.

Fighting creatures on three, four, eight and no legs was rather different than dealing with humans. How you held your weapon, what you targeted, when to strike and where all differed. Multiple opponents, the need to stick and move, to cut and fight and the utilization of various footwork to best take into account a wide range of environments made my prior training less than optimal.

Your average adventurer was more an MMA fighter - a jack of all trades, a master of none - than a specialist. They had to be, when the environment and what they fought changed constantly. Adaptation and versatility were the key.

I was a specialist. One who had spent decades honing his craft on Earth. In the ring, when I was younger; then the octagon when it became popular, before I grew too old to play rough. Never competing too far beyond the amateur level, neither having the time or money to do so. In my old age, open mats and friendly competitions, hours of play with those I trusted took over, as did the forms and theory, the slow practice and theory crafting of techniques before arthritis and injuries slowed me further.

For the last two years, I’d been busy. Doing my best to adapt and synthesize the methodologies of adventurers here, to integrate it into my own style. 

A long way to say, that when the worms started leaping, I got busy.

Tenebrous worms were mostly dark, the darker they were, the older. The smallest that attacked were about the size of my arm and light gray, the largest my thigh and knee combined and charcoal black. Lots of striking surface on offer and their leaps were generally straight forward. I utilized hammer strikes and short, sharp jabs, bouncing them off into the distance before elbowing one close. A quick foot stomp ended that monster’s life, before I was forced to move.

Knee raised, swung sideways to deflect another jump. Drop and slide, a quick hook and then an uppercut. Always moving, never staying in one spot long enough for their leaps to be well targeted. Slipping back and forth, overhand and hammer fists to bodies when I could, bouncing them off the ground before a soccer kick sent them to the same spot on the wall, over and over again.

Creating a tidy pile to deal with later, if they stopped moving.

The first few were simple to handle. Unfortunately, they kept coming, the damn boy's lure drawing them from the walls. A nest filled with dozens of the smaller creatures, fewer adults as they crawled from the walls, dark hides hidden against the gray of the stone. Not all those I sent flying returned, smaller worms fleeing the destruction; tiny creatures leaving their nest to crawl against the ground. Unable to burrow their way through stone – yet. 

Good as I was, it's nearly impossible not to get hit. The light leather armour I wore saved me from a few hits, razor sharp teeth on open mouths sliding along smooth leather, leaving white score marks on brown. Occasionally, they caught raw flesh or cloth, got a bit of teeth on skin and left me with bleeding cuts that burned. 

Surface wounds, most of it, until I found myself hemmed in, unable to dodge. Three worms launched themselves simultaneously. I took care of two - an elbow and a leg block, as I pivoted into a muay thai standing defense; only for the third to manage to clamp itself just under my buttocks. Pain seared up my back, down my right leg as I let my foot drop, right onto a warm and then hopped away.

I struck once, again behind me. Pain from teeth that refused to let go, as flesh tore. I gave up, and snatched my knife out of its sheath, stabbed it along the body without looking and waggled the weapon side-to-side.

In the meantime, I caught another worm, tossed it back into two others. Slid to the right, hiding behind a flat pillar to avoid the worms for a moment as I surveyed the cavern.

Bodies all around, many of them injured and dying. A few fleeing, a lot more on the approach. I stomped on another, cursed the flash of pain as I was forced to utilize bloody and tender muscles. Ignored it, as I felt the creature stop wiggling and teeth release as I finally hit a nerve release. 

The boy was doing well. His own knife flashed, over and over again, the shorter weapon his primary. The short sword – chipped and battered, definitely a loaner – was utilized in his off hand more like a bat. 

A half-dozen worm corpses all around him. The boy moved with some grace, but more aggression than skill. He chopped and swung, bisecting bodies as he dripped blood everywhere from his wounds. New ones, across his torso, along one calf. However, I am surprised to note that the wound around his arm, on his thigh wasn't bleeding as freely.

No wonder he didn’t bother bandaging himself. He had a healing skill.

He wasn’t the only one.

***

“Why not a knife?” the boy – Yorrick – asked, as we worked to clear up the cavern, tossing emptied bodies into one corner. “Something to do with your skill?”

I grunted in answer. My leg hurt, throbbing from where the bite had sunk deep into the meat of my body. The bandages I had wrapped around had stained through, but the blood was – finally – drying, such that I assumed I was not going to bleed to death. Crouching was a pain and a half, though worse was shifting positions.

“Really? You going to be a broken level like that? We just fought side-by-side. You going to freeze me out?”

I flipped another corpse to the side as I dropped the handful of shards I’d been holding into the pouch. “If I used a knife, how would we know which was your kill and which, mine?”

“You got a point, but not as much as I do.” Knife waggled as Yorrick tossed a crushed body towards me. “Though, you fight worse than a gang finding a dropped drumstick.”

I had to admit, he had a point. Punching, kicking and otherwise causing massive blunt force trauma also had the unintended consequence of causing the worms to fly through the air wily-nily. Attempts to keep things contained had failed as things got really hectic and after my injury. Nevermind the creatures having no aggro meter, and just charging whatever was closest to them, meaning that some had crawled towards Yorrick later too. 

On the other hand…

“Mine’s less messy than yours.” 

One thing they don’t tell you about fighting with weapons, especially weapons that cut and dismembered was just how messy it was. Blood pumping all around can make even the most artful of fighters the equivalent of a pollock painter or cover the ground in blood like a psychopath’s living room while dancing to Huey Lewis & the News.

“Good level, that.” One last check, before Yorrick straightened. “That’s me. Thanks for the help. Nearly got eaten, with the lure in play. Might have been a real wandering boss.”

“Wandering boss. Right, right.” The curse still felt weird, as did most of his slang, but I managed. “Two more and then I’m done.”

Rather than leave, the kid hung around, shifting from foot to foot. “You know, all those fists. Feet. You’re good. Never seen anything like it, really.”

“Not surprised.” Tionerth was not a place for unarmed styles. What few there were, weren’t an integrated style – or were just enough to get the user to his weapon. On top of that, adventurers were generalists. They had no time to train a style exclusively, focusing more on things that worked rather than forms, especially forms and kicks that were a little showier. It took time, training and focus to learn the variety of kicks, elbows and knees that I knew, never mind the footwork necessary to make them actually useful.

Not many people took the time to learn how to generate power on one foot, standing still against a punching bag. Or to hit with their shoulders from an inch away, and do so with enough force to actually cause damage. Or disrupt a person’s balance with two fingers.

Silly skills, for the most part, tricks that you learnt and practiced because you could not fight or were too injured to do so. Techniques that could be combined into styles and attacks that became something more. All of which were pointless, if you had a sword or knife or gun. 

“What I’m doing, it’s not something you need, unless you have a skill.” 

“Which you won’t tell me,” Yorrick replied.

I grinned, finished up with the corpses. Quite a few bugs and insects hard arrived, headed for the corpse pile by that point. Enough so that I grimaced at the sight, shuddering at the twitching, crawling sight. One thing that was clear, from everything that I had heard – and I’d spent more time listening in to former adventurers and going to basic courses during my free time than I cared to think – was that dungeon monsters acted similar to Earth’s.

Including the attraction of scavengers to large amounts of blood and meat. 

In fact…

“Slime.” I pointed as the eponymous creature oozed out of the walls.

That caused Yorrick to back off. I’d gathered enough, watching him to be confident he was a leech or siphon. Something that needed another body, a corpse to draw from. That was why he was healed, and why the slime was so dangerous to us both.

“Time to portal to the next floor,” Yorrick muttered. 

Carefully, we backed away. 

Slimes were either the easiest or hardest monster to fight – depending on what kind of skills you had. Since neither of us had an elemental or magic skill, taking this one on was a terrible idea. We liable to die by suffocation or slow, acidic dissolution.

Back near the entrance to the next level, we shared a long look. It was Yorrick who broke the silence first, giving me a half-smile.

“Right. See you around. Thanks again, for, you know…”

“No need.” I was a little relieved he chose to scamper off, down to the second level. So relieved, I gave him a headstart since he had not suggested a team-up. Nice enough as the kid was, I was not interested in working with anyone.

They’d just slow me down. 

As I was about to leave, a girl popped out. She was trembling, afraid. Short cut, pixie hair, clothing bundled together and a single, short sword in one hand, she stared at the exit, shook her head and turned to where we had just emerged from. 

I shook my head and muttered, “Slime.”

To my surprise, she brightened and marched right in.

Well, I guess some of us have all the luck with Skills.