January 15th, 2022
***
"Status."
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[Name: Richter Maier || Mana: 100%/100% || Level 19: 30% XP || Unused Attribute Points: 12]
[Class: Swordsman (intrinsic)]
[Attributes: Strength: 24 || Agility: 27 || Constitution: 17 || Magic: 23 || Intelligence 14]
[Abilities: Transcendent Bloodlust (innate), Transcendent Sense (innate), Swordsman's Tenacity (passive), Swordsman's Agility (passive) || Skills: Sunder, Harden]
[64 Copper || 1 Healing Potions || 2 Mana Potions]
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Richter analyzed the floating, transparent page on his way back to town. His Sense pulsed out regularly to check for any dangers.
He decided to ignore Intelligence this time around as he distributed his attribute points.
Of all the attributes, Intelligence was still a mystery to him. He hadn't invested much in it, true - but even then he never felt like it mattered. On the other hand, Magic was the most important. He reveled in the sensation of it, of pushing past human limits. He dreamt of the possibilities that power could bring and invested in it further. Mana flow came naturally to him. Or perhaps, more accurately, it felt no different than the training he'd done for nearly two decades.
His Swordsmanship traced back to the feudal era of Japan. At the height of skirmishes and clashes for power, their progenitor created the style to surpass the traditional samurai techniques used at the time.
It worked.
And it'd been passed down through the generations ever since. Changes had to be made to accommodate the peace-time shift through the centuries, but Richter taught it as authentically as possible. Meaning his students essentially had to know the human body inside and out. The intent was so that they could identify their own injuries as well as the best spots to inflict damage.
It was a Sword Style meant for killing.
His thoughts flickered between disciples, past and present, during the journey; his stats increasing moderately. The addictive feeling of growing stronger played in the back of his mind.
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[Name: Richter Maier || Mana: 100%/100% || Level 19: 30% XP || Unused Attribute Points: 0]
[Class: Swordsman (intrinsic)]
[Attributes: Strength: 25 (24 + 1) || Agility: 28 (27 +1) || Constitution: 18 (17 + 1) || Magic: 32 (23 + 9) || Intelligence 14]
[Abilities: Transcendent Bloodlust (innate), Transcendent Sense (innate), Swordsman's Tenacity (passive), Swordsman's Agility (passive) || Skills: Sunder, Harden]
[64 Copper || 1 Healing Potions || 2 Mana Potions]
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***
A teenage boy raised his sword across his body with the blade angling out. His lean frame covered a girl of similar age behind him as the two stared down a shadowy figure across the path.
"Why have you been following us?" Cain spoke lowly.
The cloaked adversary pulled back their hood to reveal their alien features. Light purple skin and scales covered their face; their tongue was forked and their blue irises sat in the shape of slits. Streaks of red decorated the weapon they pulled out and the edges of their mouth. The scent of iron radiated from the crust of rust on the serrated knife. The handle was well worn, a detail Cain picked up on immediately. His eyebrows furrowed, but he couldn't stop smiling.
Was he picking up Richter's bad habits? The idea of a decent fight made him...excited.
"Stay out of this one. Please." He spoke softly to the girl behind.
Mira opened her mouth to object but relented. He had put his faith in her before. She should do the same. Mira nodded and stepped back to watch.
The enemy's tongue flicked out to taste the air around Cain.
"Not ssssss-so bad. You might be good for a warm-up, unlike the other waste."
Jet-black mana coursed through their body.
The off-putting mana felt slimy and sluggish as it diffused into the air. Cain's body grew a little heavier. His senses started to dull.
[Mana Surge - 10%]
The smiling humanoid leapt toward him with the knife outstretched toward his heart.
Cain's mind struggled to process everything happening. His own magic coursed through his body as he did something strange-
-He sheathed his sword.
Cain knew he had the range advantage with his blade's length. The opponent should be immobile while airborne too. The tendons in his right wrist wound tight as he relied on the lessons drilled into him countless times.
[Shikigami Sword Style: Draw - 70%]
His whole body lit up blue as wisps leaked out of his skin. He wasn't skilled enough yet with mana. An ear-piercing ring rang from his sheathe as his blade slid out at increasing speed. Every muscle worked in tandem to bring the cold steel out. His upper body twisted toward the figure. His arm unfolded, extending toward their body; and at the last moment, his blade accelerated even faster as he flicked his wrist out. The small movement only added several inches, but the flexibility and training allowed it to push the blade to blinding speeds as he strained the tendons.
The blade flew through the creature's neck with such force it popped its head into the air. Their last memories were that of a forest spinning round and round. Blood sprayed out like a geyser from the corpse.
Cain would have celebrated the kill notification, but the backlash was immense. The snake guy had such a strong body that cutting through felt like hitting a wall. It'd be more accurate to say he sheared through their neck instead of cut. His right arm hurt like hell from the strain. He wouldn't be using it for a little while.
Mira stepped forward, both impressed and slightly worried at his condition. Blood spurt from a section along his forearm where a vein had popped from the pressure. Tears leaked down his cheeks as he fought the pain to stay conscious.
"Here, drink." Mira tilted a health potion between his lips.
The injury slowly closed up, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief as the pain subsided.
"Damn, what was that guy made of..." Cain cracked a smile and fell back onto the forest floor in a relaxed position.
"That was incredible Cain. I've never seen a skill like that before."
Cain made snow angels on the dirt as he replied, "It wasn't a skill."
Cain stood up, dusting off his clothes. "It was a technique."
"A technique?"
"Yeah. One of several that uh- well, 'that guy' taught me." Richter had become a sore spot for Mira. Just mentioning his name made her sweat and tremble uncontrollably.
Her eyes widened slightly. She surged forward, gripping his shirt excitedly.
"Can you teach me? Please?"
"No can do. Only the head of the dojo can teach others."
She let go of his shirt and scoffed. "You're really gonna hold onto those stupid rules? Even with everything happening?"
Mira realized her mistake as the words left her mouth, but she couldn't take them back. Cain wheeled on her with a harsh, frigid gaze. Cold steel crept into his voice.
"They're not stupid." He picked his blade off the ground and sheathed it. "They matter to me. And I bet every other disciple. Those rules gave us purpose."
Cain turned away and started walking toward their next destination. Mira hurried after him.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it. I was just thinking about Richter and wasn't paying attention to what I said."
"Mmhmm," Cain acknowledged curtly.
The conversation stopped dead after that. The two traveled in silence the rest of the way as they went toward one of the new dungeons.
***
'Ahh, Finally back in town.'
Richter surveyed the makeshift fortifications along the entrance. Hundreds of people milled about adding wooden spikes or building extra layers of padding. Someone on one of the roofs noticed his approach and yelled down.
"He's back!"
Quinn pushed through the crowd, stepping past the protective wall. A crowd of people gathered around nervously as the two came face-to-face.
"Relax, I took care of it."
Quinn's grip tightened around the pommel of his sword. "You could be some kind of skinwalker, or mimic, or...fuck, anything. How do I know you're really Richter?"
Richter raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Seriously Quinn? Is this really necessary?"
"You have no idea what's possible, Richter. Mutants are unpredictable. I have to make sure."
Richter sighed, "Very well. I'll prove it's me. Here I come, top left."
That was the only warning he'd offer before lazily pushing his vibrant mana through his arm and into the wrist. His hand enclosed around the sword's handle as he took a casual stance.
[Shikigami Sword Style: Draw - 5%]
Quinn's eyes widened, unwanted memories flooding back as he saw the technique being used. His own mana roared to life in response. He caught Richter's edge on his own, sparks raining down as the two blades clashed.
"Yeah, it's you alright."
Richter disengaged and walked into town. The eyes of onlookers followed him, with a mix of emotions. He detected envy, wonder, and even a few traces of hate or ill intent. The flickers disappeared just as quickly as they appeared.
Richter took a path back to his dojo for a change instead of the inn. He wasn't in the mood to talk to Wesley. His body plopped onto the mattress of his plain bamboo room as he drifted off to sleep.
***