The hero's apparition vanished moments after delivering those ominous words, leaving the crowd alone to process the information.
Surveying the room, Luke wasn't all that surprised to see that most of those present were okay with the situation. They were all confident enough in their skills to come here, after all, and then survive the shit show that resulted from it. None of them truly believed that they wouldn't be able to learn the techniques being displayed—in fact, a significant portion of the people were walking around with excited smiles, seemingly pleased with the arrangement.
This predicament was both a chance to learn some clearly mystical and equally mysterious techniques, and walk away with a treasure at the end. A classic win-win scenario.
I might be a bit pessimistic, but I don't think there's going to be as many smiling faces when some of them inevitably realize that they'll never leave here.
"Luke. Arya. I think I might die here. I think we all might die here," Spiros said, looking more panicked than Luke had ever seen him.
"Why?" Luke asked, suddenly feeling a nervous knot forming in his gut.
"Those techniques. There aren't just motions that we need to imitate. They represent fundamental aspects of reality. It's hard to explain … but you'll get it when you try doing them. It's like, the world itself will stop you. It's … You'll see," he finished awkwardly.
"What do you know, and how do you know it?" Arya tilted her head, her eyes squinted, as if she was trying to solve a particularly hard problem.
"Well, uh. I've seen them before. I mean, not them"—he pointed to the podiums—"but other techniques like them. My grandpa showed me a few."
"Your grandpa showed you a few?" Luke looked at him incredulously.
"Yeah. He's in the Hero tier, so …"
"Huh."
"What?"
Arya suddenly stepped in really close, pulling both Luke and Spiros into a very tight huddle.
"Your grandpa is a Hero?" she whispered as quietly as she could.
Now, isn't that a bombshell. It does explain some things about him, though. Not why he shat his pants, but some things, Luke thought, recalling Spiros's startling strength when they were pulling the snake back into the town. He had meant to ask him about it earlier but had forgotten when he saw Arke not long after.
"Yeah—"
"There aren't any heroes on the island," she interrupted.
"Well, I never said I was from here, did I? My family has this thing where they send us all out when we turn fifteen, and we're not supposed to come back until we become warriors. Me, June, and Myko were all sent here."
"… so where are you from?" Luke asked.
"You probably haven't heard of it."
"Come on, just tell us. What's the harm?" Arya egged him on, batting her eyelashes.
Luke suppressed a grin when he saw Spiros suddenly turn pink.
He really is a simp.
"Nothing, I guess. We're not really supposed to talk about it, though, so on the off chance that we actually do make it out of here, promise not to tell my sister I told you, okay? She'll kick my ass."
"I promise, I won't."
"Me, too," Luke chipped in.
"Okay. I'm from Troy. It's a kingdom, way north and a little right from the archipelago."
Troy? The Brad Pitt movie!
Luke sighed softly. It only made sense that if the gods were real, so were some of the locations that featured in the myths.
Really, I should have figured it all out sooner.
Olympus is real. So is Atlantis. I have Bellerophon's sword attached to my waist; a mythicized city shouldn't really surprise me, but you know what, it still does. He eyed Spiros. For his sake, I hope his home doesn't get razed to the ground by some Greeks hiding in a fake horse.
Hmm. Does this mean that Achilles is kicking around somewhere. What about Hercules? Or is it Heracles? Whatever, it's another mystery for when I get Arke off my tail. It would be cool to meet them, though.
"What?" Luke asked as the other two looked at him oddly. Spiros's eyes narrowed.
"You've heard of Troy before?"
Well, duh. Who hasn't? … Unfortunately, I don't think I can share why I know about it, or how.
"I've heard about it in passing. A story my … The man who raised me told me when I was a kid. Something about it having legendary walls. I thought it was just one of those things they tell kids."
"Oh." Spiros grinned, buying Luke's explanation. "You've heard about those, huh. There aren't really walls—it's more like a"—he made a vague dome shape with his hands—"giant protective talisman that surrounds the kingdom. It's impenetrable. They say Lord Poseidon himself built it. When I become a Warrior, you two should come back with me and see it. The way light reflects off when the suns set and rise it is beautiful."
Luke grinned at him. "Maybe. I don't know about following you there, but I'll come and visit sometime."
"I'll keep an eye out for you in that case. Just ask around for the House of Paris."
Luke's thoughts immediately started churning a hundred miles a second.
Paris. Helen. Troy. He looked at Spiros again, doing his level best to keep his expression neutral. Is he going to start the Trojan War? Holy fucking shit. No way, that can't be it.
"Wait. Who is Poseidon?" asked Arya, looking between Luke and Spiros and pulling Luke out of his thoughts.
Fuck. Was I not supposed to know that? Keeping things secret is so much easier when I don't have to talk to anybody.
"You don't know?" Spiros looked at Arya, then at Luke. "He knows."
"Uh, the person who raised me was a fisherman … I didn't really think he was real, but when I joined the society, I thought that there might be more to those stories than I thought."
"Oh, makes sense. Lord Poseidon is a god. He rules Atlantis. Kind of like Lord Zeus rules Olympus. I figured with the tomb and everything, everyone would know about him."
"Yeah, they don't really tell mortals too much around here." Luke shrugged.
"Well, yeah. Otherwise everyone would start cultivating." Spiros shrugged, too.
Luke and Arya looked at him curiously before Arya shook her head.
"All right, this is all really fascinating. But let's focus on the techniques for now. We'll talk more later," said Arya, stepping back and looking toward the podiums. "I'm going to start with the shield technique. What about you two?"
Spiros lifted his spear, and Luke touched the hilt of his sword in response.
"Good luck." She walked off.
Sitting down on a mat, with the best view of the podium he could find, Luke joined the others in watching the hologram of the hero's sword technique.
He watched her every move with an intensity that surprised even him. For the moment, he ignored the urge to draw his sword and follow along with her movements. He traced the sword as one movement flowed into the other seamlessly and with inhuman grace.
He imagined himself, standing opposite her, his xiphos in hand, looking for an opening, some way to get past her sword. He waited, and he waited and he waited, not seeing any way to get through her defense. He grew increasingly impatient as the seconds ticked by. Seconds that turned to minutes, then turned to hours, until pangs of hunger gnawed at him from the inside, and his throat grew parched with thirst.
She's not even moving that fast. Why can't I find any way in?
As if in response to his frustration, the image of the hero fully extended her sword and lunged forward. At that moment, Luke was sure. Sure that she had made a fatal mistake. Sure that he could slip past her guard and pierce her heart.
Not hesitating for even a second, he stepped into her guard, sword thrusting forward. A strike poised to pierce her heart.
Luke's head rolled off his shoulder, and he was back in his body. Whatever had sucked him into the illusion had released its hold.
The hero continued her dance. Unfazed and unbothered.
A bead of sweat rolled down his face, and his breath suddenly came in short bursts, as if he had just gone a dozen rounds in the ring. He clutched his hand to his chest and scrunched his robes. His other hand sought support from the ground as he desperately tried not to fall over. Trying not to throw up, he reassured himself that he was alive.
What the fuck was that?
No answer came to his mind. There was clearly something beyond the physical happening. Observing the others watching the recording, he shook his head. They were all still in a trance, likely still having the same out-of-body experience he had.
Quietly getting to his feet, he ducked between the mats, careful not to disturb anyone. A thoughtful but ultimately pointless endeavor. As engrossed as everyone was, he could slice their throats and they wouldn't even realize that they had died.
Finding an open and out-of-the-way space near the arenas, he drew his sword. After spending hours watching the hero go through the same simple but beautiful moves, he was confident in his ability to perform them. Or at least go through the motions.
He lifted his sword, holding it vertically in front of him. The first motion was simple. All he had to do was tilt his sword to the side and slice it down diagonally. A motion he had performed hundreds, if not thousands of times before, since he had bought his sword.
His blade moved a millimeter forward, and immediately he felt resistance. As if there was another sword pressed against his, stopping him from moving forward.
What?
Quietly, Luke started to panic at the strange event. Remembering Spiros's words, he finally realized what they meant.
How am I supposed to learn this if I can't even do the actions?
A prompt from the Seed flashed before his eyes.
Quest Alert: A Paragon's Path
Warning—the technique First Stance of the Sword, if learned, must be fully mastered as per the Paragon's Path. Perfection in all things is required to advance to the Warrior tier.
Create Skill: First Stance of the Sword
Yes/No
Luke eased his grip on his sword and lowered it. Whatever had stopped his movements didn't prevent him from backing away. Blinking in surprise, he read over the warning.
Huh.
Luke opened the status and read through the original quest prompt. It hadn't changed. The only conditions still listed were maxing out his Bloodline and getting all four attributes to one thousand at the same time.
So what's this about, then? If I learn it, I have to master it, and if I can't or don't, I'm stuck as a mortal until I die? I guess that's not too different from being trapped in here, but still. Bummer.
His eyes flashed between the two other podiums.
Chances are, once I attempt to learn those two, I'll also be required to master them completely. I can't leave here until I learn them to the hero's satisfaction, either. Not unless I find a way out of here, but I have the first quest to work through as well.
I need to get the hero's mask, activate the portal, and skedaddle.
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Navigating back to the quest alert, he read it again.
What does it mean, "create skill"? He directed the query at the Seed and frowned when it didn't answer.
This is bullshit. The Paragon's Path locks me to the Mortal tier unless I do everything perfectly. I thought that was just my attributes—murdering a bunch of stuff is doable, easy even. Even if it ended up taking me years, I was confident I could get there. Mastering a skill, though? There's no guarantee I'll ever be able to do so.
Was accepting the Paragon quest a mistake?
His eyes skimmed through the room, and his gaze locked onto Yjarn, who sat silently in front of the spear podium, enraptured.
Anger bubbled inside him again. He remembered the fear that had overtook him when he saw Arke flying above the society's sky. The terror he felt as he watched Aeolus eat one soul after the other.
I want to be the strongest I can be. I don't want to be helpless in the face of power ever again. I know that. So why am I hesitating?
I have to get out of here. I have to learn the three techniques to do that.
I guess I could use a charge, but then what? I'll just have Arke on my trail again.
He sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.
Yes. He directed his thoughts toward the Seed and immediately sensed a change in his status.
Well, that's new.