19. Likely Story (Patreon)

“Who are you? Why are you looking for me?”

“Orin sent me,” Ike said quickly.

Silver’s eyes narrowed. He flicked his wrist again, and the water’s pull grew stronger. A whirlpool opened up behind Ike. Immense force pulled him toward the whirlpool. “What does he want?”

Fuck! Orin, why? Ike clung to the stones on the bank with all his might, struggling to keep a grip on the wet, mossy stones. “I just—I have some monster parts. He suggested bringing them to you! Said you could turn them into a weapon!”

Silver’s eyes narrowed. He kicked once and soared directly out of the water like a breeching fish. He backflipped and landed on the surface of the water. Ike expected him to fall through, but he stood atop the churning fluid as naturally as breathing.

“What the…” Ike looked Silver up and down, flabbergasted. Is that a skill?

Those gold eyes bored down on Ike. “Why would he say that? I asked to be left alone.”

“I don’t know. I’ve been a hunter for a week, I don’t know why you’re angry at me,” Ike said desperately. The stone slipped under his arms. Ike kicked with all his might, but the whirlpool pulled harder.

Silver glared down at him. Ike’s hands slipped off, and he dropped into the water. The whirlpool sucked him down.

Dammit. I’m not dying here. Rather than just give in to the whirlpool, Ike kicked hard, swimming with the flow. The whirlpool accelerated him, and he hurtled toward Silver. He drew the axe from his back pocket and swung it at Silver’s legs.

“Interesting.” Silver leaped off the water, flipped again, and landed on the edge of the pool. With one final flick of his wrist, the water stilled.

Ike swam to the edge and leaped out of the water like a bat out of hell. He staggered away from the pool, feet slipping and sliding over the mossy stones. Snatching up his wet boots, he shoved his feet into them, stepping down the leather. “Message received. I’m leaving.”

“Wait.”

Ike continued to yank his shoes on. Hell no.

Silver grabbed his shoulder. “Wait.”

Ike flinched. He glared at Silver. “What?”

“I thought you were…something else. I’ll make the weapon.”

Taken aback, Ike squinted at him. “Something else?”

Silver gave him a long, silent look.

Ike returned the look, then turned away. I’m not going to beg this guy to make a weapon after he treated me like shit. I don’t care how good it is.

A tug at his back. Ike reached back to find his shoulders bare. The claws had been stripped away.

“If it interests me, anyways. I won’t work with boring materials,” Silver said over his shoulder, tapping the claws against his leg.

“Hey! Give that back. I’m going to someone else,” Ike asked, chasing after him. Again, despite Silver’s seemingly relaxed pace, the man steadily pulled away from him.

“Are you? I’m the best there is.” Silver said simply. Not waiting for Ike to follow, he turned a corner around a rock and vanished out of sight.

Ike stared after him. He hesitated, then wrinkled his nose and cursed under his breath. Orin recommended Silver, even said he was the best. If anyone would know the best weaponsmith around, it would be the Rank 3 adventurer. If he’s willing to work for free…I don’t want to play along with a bully, but I have to be realistic about my budget. Tapping his chin, Ike stared after Silver. He had three options. One, spend all his money right now on a mediocre-at-best weaponsmith, and walk away with a mediocre-at best weapon. Not ideal. Two, hope he could take down another few monsters with a blunt axe and a razor and not die while he saved up. Put his life on the line. Also not ideal. Or, option three, put up with an asshole for a few hours, and walk away with a top tier weapon.

Ike twisted his lips. As little as he wanted to admit it, the choice was obvious. He lifted his head, looking after Silver. The man walked away, a white-wrapped bundle in his arms.

Besides, he has my claws. Pushing himself to a slow jog in his sloshing-wet clothes, he chased after Silver.

Silver’s words bounced around in Ike’s head. He thought I was something else. Not someone else. Tana and Ket came to mind, with their black-on-white eyes. Is that ‘something else?’ Or…does he mean something completely different?

Around the stone, Silver climbed a hill. He ducked into a wall of ivy that draped a cliff face beside the falls.

Ike followed him, and found himself in a cave. A placid stream of water coursed along the edge of a stone floor. Smooth, washed stone formed a round tunnel through the earth, widening out the deeper they went into the cave. Abruptly, Silver turned a corner. Ike followed, and found himself in a remarkably homey, if simple, space. A rug of woven reeds stretched across the floor. Atop it, low driftwood table and two water-worn stools had been neatly placed. Herbs dried from a string overhead. Two brightly-colored fish swam in one of the many pools in the floor, their scales flickering brilliantly in the low light. Behind it, a pot dangled over a fire, boiling merrily. Its smoke vanished into a hole in the ceiling, which also served to let sunlight in. At some point, someone had tucked soft grasses onto a shelf in the back, and a Silver-shaped intent stretched across its center. 

A forge had been built into the back wall. Right now, it stood dark and dead, waiting for a spark. Tongs, a shovel, pinchers, hammers, an anvil, and other tools Ike didn’t recognize hung on the wall beside it.

Silver tossed the claws haphazardly onto the driftwood table. As he passed by the fish pond, his hand blurred, and one of the fish appeared in it. Casually, he snapped its neck, then carried it to a shelf in the back and lifted a knife. “Fish stew?”

“Er…yes?” Ike asked, lost.

With a grunt, Silver turned back to the fish. Scales flew.

Not sure what else to do, Ike folded his legs and sat at the low table, his hands in his lap. He stared at the mantis’ claws. I could take them right now. Take them and go. Find another weaponsmith.

“Boy.”

Ike’s head snapped up. “My name is Ike.”

Silver gave a careless snort. He pointed at the hanging herbs. “The white grass. Put two tufts in the broth.”

“Uh, sure.” Ike tugged two tufts free of the line and tossed them into the broth.

The second the grass hit the boiling broth, the entire dish turned dark. Ike blinked. “I think it’s burning?”

“The four-lobe ivy. One leaf, now.”

Ike jumped to. Snatching the ivy leaf, he tossed it in the broth. It paled out again, turning almost clear. “Now it’s colorless.”

“Good.” Silver appeared beside him and dropped the cleaned fish into the broth. The broth turned a vibrant ruby red.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Ike asked.

Silver gave no reply, instead walking over to start on the second fish. A few moments later, he called, “Blue flower. Seven petals, added one at a time.”

Obediently, Ike pulled a dried flower off the line. He plucked the petals off the flower, letting them flutter into the broth one at a time. “Why are we making fish stew?”

“Because I’m hungry,” Silver said.

“Oh,” Ike muttered. I can’t fault him. I’m hungry, too.

Ike edged toward the stew, shivering. Outside, in the sun, it wasn’t so bad to be soaking wet. Inside, the cave was cool and dark, and he was freezing.

Silver walked over and dropped the second fish in. He glanced at Ike, then lifted his hand and tapped Ike’s shoulder.

A strange warm sensation crawled over him, and then he felt dry. He looked down at himself. His clothes were dry, his body clean. Confused, Ike turned to Silver.

Silver shook himself. All the filth and water vanished from his clothes and hair. His hair transformed from an unruly mess to a sleek, smooth ponytail, the silver streak marking it all the way to the end of the ponytail.

Ike blinked. “You have a self-cleaning skill?”

“It’s very useful,” Silver said.

Ike nodded, then did a double take. A long, pale scar cut from Silver’s right cheek, vanished behind his glasses, then sliced through his eyebrow and into the white streak in his hair. The dirt and wild hair had hidden it earlier, but now it was clear as day.

Noticing his gaze, Silver tipped his head back. Behind the glasses, his eyes narrowed.

Ike looked away, getting the message. He doesn’t like people staring at it. Understandable.

He cleared his throat. “Orin mentioned you could teach me a sword skill?”

“I could.” Silver retreated to a shelf and stole a spoon, then tested the stew. Satisfied, he ladled it into two bowls and handed one to Ike.

“Will you? Please,” Ike asked, taking the bowl.

Silver hummed, deep in his throat. He sat down at the table and gestured for Ike to do the same. “I don’t carry a sword.”

“No…you don’t,” Ike said slowly. Was Orin wrong, then?

“I don’t need one. But I have a sword skill. I’m willing to condense it into a skill orb and give it to you, if you help me.”

“Huh? Isn’t that…really hard?” Ike asked.

“For most people. It’s easy for me,” Silver said. He lifted the bowl to his lips, then flinched back. Snapping his fingers, he sent the stew into a furious whirlpool. A cool wind appeared from nowhere and blew across the stew’s surface.

He glanced up as a thought came to him. “It’s harder if you want to keep the skill. I don’t.”

“Oh,” Ike said, nodding. “So…what do I have to help you with?”

“An owl,” Silver said. He scowled.

Ike blinked. “An owl?”

“Owl monster. Keeps eating all my fish. I need it dead, but I don’t have ranged skills, and it knows my scent, my shape, the sound of my heart. It flies away whenever it senses me coming. I need someone new to the area to kill it. Someone whose scent it doesn’t know.”

“An owl monster?” Ike’s eyes widened. “Has it condensed a skill orb?”

Sipping his stew, Silver shrugged. “It’s a weakling who has had the good fortune to live for a thousand years. It might have.”

A thousand years. One out of ten chance. Whether it’s a skill I sell or a skill I absorb, it’s a decent shot! And if it has no skill…a thousand-year-old owl monster corpse should be worth at least as much as the mantis’s. Ike nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Silver nodded. He pointed at Ike’s stew. “Drink the soup. It’s fortified with herbs that stifle your smell and mute your body’s sounds. As a creature the owl doesn’t recognize, you should be able to sneak up on it with the help of the soup…as long as it doesn’t see you.”

Ike nodded. He sipped the soup. Warmth filled him—not just the warmth of the broth, but the warmth of mana. The flavors of fish and herbs danced on his tongue, mixed into a salty, vibrant broth. In a few moments, he’d gulped down the whole bowl of stew. Ike eyed the pot hungrily. I don’t know if I’ve ever had food that good.

Silver stood and took his bowl. He ladled a second portion for Ike and passed it back to him. “But no more. Food made with magical herbs and mana can be toxic in large quantities to low Rank mages.”

“Understood,” Ike said. Eagerly accepting the bowl, he gulped down his second serving the same as the first. He eyed the pot again, but lowered his gaze after a moment. Let’s not be stupid. I don’t want to die for food, no matter how good it is.

Sitting back, Ike looked at Silver. He furrowed his brows. “How did you end up with a sword skill you don’t want? Do monsters even drop sword skills?”

“They can,” Silver said. He sipped at his soup again and offered no further explanation.

Ominous. Surely Orin wouldn’t have sent me to a guy who hunts hunters for their skills…? Ike eyed Silver with suspicion.

Noticing his gaze, Silver looked up over the top of his lenses. His gold eyes bored into Ike again.

Ike looked down quickly. What was it he said? ‘Something else.” He didn’t necessarily kill a human. There could be other humanoid races who wield swords and sword skills.

Is that better, though?

Ike stood. “You said the owl fishes?”

“Yes. It swoops down from the air and snatches them out of the water.”

“And then?”

“It flies away,” Silver said.

Ike pursed his lips. “Does it fish often?”

“Every night.”

Ike nodded. “Show me where.”

Tonight, I’ll lie in wait. Figure out a strategy. Tomorrow… I strike!