(14,814) Step 12.1 (Patreon)

“Ah, Lars! There you are!” The woman– I’m just gonna call her Lady Cevan for now– proclaimed.

A series of individuals enter behind the middle-aged man, and she introduces me to each in turn. “This is Marquess Gensin Exandris, son of Duke Hevard Exandris.” The first man gives me a tired smile and tilts his head. Not knowing the proper etiquette, I respond with a full bow.

Lady Cevan gives me a happy smile, so I'll have to assume I got that right. Neat.

“This,” she continues, gesturing at an older woman and a young boy in turn, “is the Exandris’ family's head of commerce, as well as the Marquess' mother-in-law. With her is Nolan Exandris, the Marquess' son.”

Lady Cevan– actually, is it Duchess? Marquess?– stops talking momentarily to smirk at me, then announces the arrival of the last member.

She walks in quietly, and I can instantly understand what the Lady said about her being “a catch.” She's very ginger, with the orange-red hair, freckles, and pale skin, and while a small part of me snickers and recalls lighthearted jokes about redheads not having souls, the rest is desperately trying to shut that bit up to make sure I don't say anything stupid.

My first impression of her is that she's slight and small– in need of protection, if I give into the less reasoning, more instinctual part of my brain. Her face, though, wipes that thought away like a windshield wiper cutting through rain. It's strong, defiant, and striking. Her eyes cut through me with more sharpness than even Nadir exhibits, slicing some part of me into ribbons in an instant. She's only a little shorter than I am, able to lock eyes with me without needing to incline her head.

I'm meant to, what, “rizz this girl up,” to quote the less eloquent members of my generation? Why is this part of the quest? I've never even had a girlfriend! Unless you count that girl who kissed me back in 2nd grade, but I definitely don't, especially considering that she avoided me for the rest of the year and transferred out the next.

Duchess Cevan winks at me as she introduces her. “Finally, we have the Duke’s daughter and heir, Lyssaria Exandris.” She gives me a meaningful look.

My brain stutters for a second, and I catch myself right as I'm about to wave, bowing instead.

“It's good to meet all of you.”

“Likewise, young man,” the Marquess responds. “Now, my party and I have been traveling all day, and I'm afraid to say that we underestimated the length of the journey. We, ah, may have skipped lunch?” He gives my “mom” a hopeful look.

“Of course, of course! We have refreshments prepared for you.” She claps twice, and butlers start to roll out trays with those stereotypical trays with the metal covers that you see in every cartoon featuring a fancy dinner ever. Maids follow them with bottles of drinks, likely some variation of cider, like Martinelli’s.

Duchess Cevan directs me to a seat on her right, having me set Nadir’s strap across the back of my seat. Somehow– not really, screw you too Duchess– I find myself in the awkward position of sitting directly across from Lyssaria Exandris. Instead of bothering with the idle conversation of the adults, she stares across the table at me.

Again, something inside of me acts up, and this time I realize what it is: [Danger Sense]. Except, this isn't any danger to my physical health– no it's a danger to my heart. I don't mean in an emotional way, either. My Trait legitimately thinks that the Exandris heir is going to give me a heart attack.

Honestly, I'm inclined to agree.

The rest of the table eats when the food is brought out. I try, at first, but there are two big issues with that. First, they've got way too many forks and spoons, and I just cannot figure it out. Glancing at my mother's plate and etiquette allows me to steal a few bites, but it's not much. The other issue is that Lyssaria hasn't stopped staring. I mean, who wants to eat and potentially look gross while a pretty girl is staring at them?

Eventually, my name finds its way into the adult's conversation.

“Actually, Lars has recently expressed an interest in learning the art of combat,” Duke Cevant explains to Lyssaria’s father. “In fact, just today he was walking around with that glaive of his. I, of course, encourage it wholeheartedly, but polearms aren't exactly my specialty. They are yours though, Gensin. I was hoping I could convince you to give him a few pointers.”

The Marquess of Exandris looks at me curiously. “Truly? Ah, yes, that blade. Very well forged, I can tell. It's too bad that it's only D-Grade. Lars, would you like to learn from me?”

I hesitate momentarily, but then nod my head. Not only does this fit into the story that'd been built up so far, it would also be a good opportunity to get this guy to like me and to level my [Glaive Mastery] Skill.

I notice that Lyssaria's eyes have drifted away from me, but their orientation swivels back from staring at Nadir the moment I look at her.

“In that case, would you be willing to lend us your courtyard? I may as well take the opportunity to teach Lyssaria as well. It'll be a good bonding experience.”

The girl's eyes swivel to stare down her father, somehow changing to be even less friendly and soft. At this point, I don't know how she hasn't passed some sort of critical mass and had her eyes turn into black holes or something.

The Marquess raises an eyebrow at her, and a moment passes before she concedes and turns to her plate, fiddling with some pasta. I take the opportunity to eat a few more bites of food, but she looks up from her plate to stare at me without stopping what she's doing, taking bite after bite without looking away from me.

There's no way she hasn't realized what she's doing yet, right?

“So,” Lyssaria speaks for the first time, “What sparked this sudden interest in fighting?” Her voice is elegant but cold, and the words come out slightly suspicious, but in a subtle enough way that nobody could ever call her out for it.

The words also get the Cevans looking at me curiously, and suddenly the only people at the table who aren't staring at me are the little boy and his grandma, who are having their own quiet discussion.

“Well, I guess it started when I had a dream about using one to fight a wyvern. I didn't do very well, even in the dream, but it felt good. Strong, powerful, you know? And then I found a glaive that looked just like the one I used in the dream, and I guess it just felt like fate.”

Lyssaria squints at me, but the others seem satisfied. It's probably fine, right?

The adults return to their chat and Lyssaria's attention is pulled away by her father discussing the economic benefits of establishing trade routes between their lands. The whole thing goes over my head, so I just take the opportunity to shovel some more food into my mouth.

The Cevan Lady sneaks a thumbs up and a smile at me, but I don't know why. In regards to getting this girl to like me I'm pretty sure I'm failing hard.

Eventually the meal is finished, and Lyssaria only gets to glare at me one last time before they're escorted to private rooms for them to set up their stuff.

“Laaaars!!” My mother squeals excitedly, “That was soooo good!”

“She was glaring at me the whole time. I don't know what's so great about that,” I grumbled.

“I've heard that she refuses to even look at most of the suitors her parents bring her. Maybe she thinks you're cute?” She smirks and elbows me in the shoulder.

“Pretty sure it just means she hates me more than the others.”

“Well, son!” Duke Cevan claps me on the shoulders, steering me away. “Let's make sure that you don't completely embarrass yourself in front of Ms. Exandris, shall we?

He pushes me into the field in which he'd shown me how to use the soul gem on Nadir.

Once we're there, he flickers and reappears on the other side of the courtyard, an especially large bastard sword in his right hand. “Now, I'll go easy on you and only respond to clear openings in your guard that people at your level would be able to take advantage of. Consider me your enemy, and come at me with all you have.”

I accept his terms with a nod and unstrap Nadir, leveling her at him and charging.

In retrospect, not a great move.

He easily bats Nadir to the side and I'm forced to block with her handle to avoid getting slashed across the chest.

The Duke halts his movements suddenly, blade resting on the shaft of Nadir. “This is an awkward position for you. An experienced opponent could maneuver their weapon into position and stab you in the throat here. How do you stop that?”

I hesitate, then angle Nadir's blade back out front, slapping away his bastard sword.

He nods approvingly. “If you can use your defense to throw off your opponent or pressure them, then you're doing well. If you let them pressure you and go on the offensive you’re going to start taking some hits.”

He repeated his earlier swing, and I replicate my defense, though the process is much smoother since I know all the steps and what the end result should look like. I follow it up by flipping Nadir around in my grasp and swinging opposite to where I’d deflected his sword.

“Good, good!” Duke Cevan exclaims, leaning out of the way. “That attack isn’t too difficult to dodge, but pressure forces your opponent to multitask, which is something that base humans are hilariously bad at.” He returns to a ready stance and gives me a wave to let me know that he’s ready for me to attack.

I approach rapidly, levering a diagonal cut at him, sweeping from my upper right down to the lower left.

He leans into the direction I start my attack, moving just a bit faster than I think is really fair, and gently pokes me in the stomach with his blade before I’m able to recover. I give him a withering look, but he just laughs and swings at me.

I step back prod him with my glaive mid-swing. I can tell that he’s going easy, letting me get the hit, but I don’t let it affect me too much.

The Duke continues teaching me until the afternoon has come and gone.

“Best to go clean up and prepare for dinner. See you soon.”

Back in my room, I take some time to relax, preparing for yet another awkward meal.

Multiple days pass by, and I grow more anxious with each one. Not only is this the longest I’ve spent on any Step so far, it also doesn’t feel like I’m making any progress. Lyssaria still glares at me constantly, and the only time she’ll speak to me is at the table, and even then it’s only in offhanded comments that feel like they’re barely even directed at me.

The annual kingdom-wide, royal tournament is tomorrow, though, and we’ve been invited to travel with the Exandris.

In fact, I’ve been asked to participate.

Apparently, Marquess Exandris was so impressed with my abilities that he sent the tournament’s managers a letter, requesting that I be given a slot– even if I’m not on the level of his daughter, who is an absolute monster with the halberd. The Exandris seem to have a sort of style to their movements and abilities– an Art.

Arts are, to simplify it, collections of ability-enhanced movements, called Techniques. You can only have one at a time, and having one makes it easier to learn or develop new Techniques related to the Art.

To put it in more accurate terms, Arts devoured Skill, Powers, and even Traits, in order to allow you to activate them passively while performing the Techniques that synergize with the Art. They could be formed using any abilities one wanted to throw into them, but their level of synergy and particularity would determine their strength and versatility.

For example, if one were to take a [Sword Mastery] Skill and a [Cutting Wind] Power, they might be able to create an Art that passively generates wind attacks from their sword swings. The more abilities they threw in, the better the Art would be, at least in theory.

Techniques are particularly demanding on the imagination, and require a huge amount of practice and effort to handle. In battle they could be fantastic, as they could allow you to trigger synergistic effects with far less Magic, greater potency, and less thought, simply by moving your body a certain way, but to get to that point you need to practice.

It sounded perfect for me, since I’d be getting so many abilities and would most likely get to the point where I couldn’t even remember them all. Sadly, neither of my parents were willing to give me their Arts, since they didn’t work with glaives, and to create an Art you needed to generate your first Technique. Once you have an Art, making other Techniques is easier, but the first one could require years of dedicated practice. Even just making a Fighting Style, a prerequisite for an Art, can take a deep understanding of one’s self and their weapon, as well as months of planning and further months of training in battle.

I don’t have that kind of time, so I can only push forward with the intent to handle that later.

The dinner tonight is quiet. Nobody speaks. In fact, Lyssaria doesn’t even look at me, instead staring down at her plate contemplatively, as though it held all the secrets of the universe, rather than a tender steak.

My sleep is restless, and I dream of all the fighting and training I’ve done, and all the Steps I’ve completed.

When I wake, I check my status to view my progress.

Name: Xan Kim

Title: [Successor of 14,814 Steps (12)] (Upgradeable)

Level: 8 (/12)

Class: N/A

Might: 12

Mobility: 12

Mind: 12

Magic: 12

Traits: [Inheritance], [Succession], [Silent], [Danger Sense], [Freedom]

Powers: [Unkillable] Level 6, [Self-Healing] Level 4, [Power Strike] Level 1

Skills: [Glaive Mastery] Level 8, [Improvised Fighting] Level 7, [Meditation] Level 5, [Vigilance] Level 3, [Tracking] Level 1

It’s a little funny that even with all that, I still haven’t even used [Tracking] once.

I don’t really feel any different from how I did before this Twelfth Step, but I’m faring much better in the Duke’s training sessions, receiving less criticism– constructive though it may have been– and more praise.

It didn't take long for a maid to come find me and help me get ready for the day. The family had actually gone out of their way to prepare some nicer clothing for me, but I had made sure to secretly pack up my armor for when I'd need it.

We soon hitch a ride in the Exandris’ carriage.

I don't think it really needs to be said, but it's awkward. Lyssaria has started glaring at me less, but her face is still pretty uncomfortable for me.

It's made much worse by the fact that they forced us to sit across from one another. We don't really have much else to look at, so… the fact that she seems to get visibly angry whenever our eyes meet definitely isn't helping either.

Luckily, we're not too far off from the capital, so it doesn't take overly long to reach the location of the tournament.

Our bags are unpacked by servants and I'm escorted away from the group. My bags are brought with me and shoved into a private room where I'm meant to wait and prepare.

The rules are explained to me in brief: don't kill anyone, don't harm your enemy more than is necessary to incapacitate them, fight under your own power, no mind manipulation, D-Grade items only, no consumables, accept surrender… simple stuff, really.

With little else to do, I strap on my armor and [Meditate] with Nadir in my grasp. Her cold metal shaft brings sensation to my hands, and I gradually become more accustomed to both her and my armor, which I haven't used in some time.

I'd managed to clean up the gear pretty well over the past few days, and now it’s spotless, other than a couple of nicks in the fabric from where pointy objects had been stabbed into it. That isn't what really matters, though.

My armor was tough, and my blade was sharp. I don't know how much fighting there would be, but I had done all I could to prepare.

Now all I can do is fight.

It takes some time for a knock to come at the door, but it eventually does, and I am escorted away from my room and into a larger hall, filled with combatants. A few of the other fighters see me and whisper amongst themselves, while others give me hard looks.

I can't tell what they're thinking, but I don't really care either.

A quick look tells me that the battles are being conducted seemingly at random, with the winners going on to the next pool. It's all single combat, which is very relieving to me since I don't have a team or anything that could counter one. Taking on one person at a time had worked for me in the past, but I got the feeling that it might be a losing strategy here.

My first enemy– the name beside that of Lars Cevan– is a man named Yugo Kirschen, but our fight is second to last, meaning that I'll get to watch most of the others first.

There are a total of 64 D-Grade fighters, meaning that there are 5 battles before the final bout. It doesn't seem like too much until I consider that there might be people here as strong as the wyvern from the Sixth Step. Now that's a scary thought.

A bell goes off, and two men exit the room. The rest of us remain where we are, unable to view the fight. A woman tries to follow and get a peek, but she’s held back by the guards. I guess it’s more entertaining to observers when the fighters don’t already know each other's capabilities, and have to figure things out on the fly?

In any case, with little else to do, I [Meditate], tuning out everything other than the ting of the bell. Eventually, my mental tally reaches 32, and I rise to exit.

A hulk of a man is already waiting by the door, an equally huge bearded axe already gripped in his left hand. He smiles at me; a genuine smile, not mocking, teasing, or condescending. It throws me off a bit, since his appearance had given me the impression that he’d be unfriendly.

“It’s good to meet you, kid. The name’s Yugo, though I’m sure you already knew that. Let’s have fun, alright?” He extends a hand, and I clasp it, offering a firm handshake.

“I’m X- Lars. And sure.”

We’re escorted in opposite directions and I lose sight of him until we’re brought out into the ring.

“The announcer will introduce you now, so give it a few minutes before you start going at it,” a grizzled guard instructs. “You won’t hear it either, ‘cuz of the silence enchantments, so don’t worry about getting distracted mid-fight. Just circle the ring for a minute and you’ll be good.”

With his go-ahead, I step into the colosseum, being met by dead silence. Yugo steps through at about the same time as me, and we smile at one another across the great distance.

In unison, we start to angle around the center of the arena, spiraling towards the center. About halfway around the court, Yugo stops and drops into a ready stance, clearly alerting me of his intentions.

No longer angling around, he quickly approaches my position, and I interpose Nadir between us.

He dodges around her blade, raising his axe, but I quickly sidestep and slash at him. He raises a braced arm to block it, but my glaive slices straight through it and bites into his arm.

Yugo lets out a cry of shock and pain and I’m left staring at Nadir.

I guess that [Fractal] Modifier was pretty good.

“I concede the match, no way I’m dealing with that. Healer!” Just like that, I win, though it doesn’t feel too great.

Hopefully Yugo doesn’t lose his arm.

I walk off stage and am escorted to the waiting room, with all the other fighters. A few gaze at me confusedly, but I ignore it.

It takes a few minutes for the next matches to be posted. The randomization method that they’re using doesn’t seem to have many pros to it, but I’m not the organizer of the event, so…

My next match is against Kiers Rofth. No clue who that is, but I’d find out soon enough.

Once again, I’m last, so I’ll have to wait for the very end. I’m unaware if that’s just a trick of fate, or if my fights are last on purpose.

I repeat my previous method of [Meditating] and keeping track of the matches, only rising when my count reaches 16. My opponent has already vacated the premises by the time I reach the door, but I’m guided to my end of the arena all the same.

Like before, the only thing I can hear when I step into the arena is my own breath and the sound of sand being blown by the wind.

My opponent instantly makes himself known, his sword igniting in a display of force.

His face and form are masked by his full plate armor, but the darkness within his helmet is lit by two glowing red eyes.

A few long moments pass, and then he springs into action.

Fire erupts across the ground as he delivers a sweeping strike into the air, and I just barely manage to jump out of the way in time to avoid being scorched.

Kiers doesn’t relent there, though, instead pressing his advantage and dashing forward, thrusting at me with his falchion. Again, flames erupt from his movements and a bolt of fire is hucked at my face even as the other man tries to stab me.

I swing out with Nadir, and the ball of fire splashes against the blade, fizzling out. However, I miss the man himself and fail to dodge in time, allowing him to score a powerful hit against my brigandine. It smashes against one of the steel plates with immense force, but the metal holds strong.

A crack resounds as my armor gains some of the momentum from Kiers’ blade, and a flash of pain erupts from somewhere in the lower regions of my chests. [Unkillable] quickly dulls the pain and allows me to keep fighting, but I wince anyways, unhappy with the exchange. I need control.

Time to go on the offensive.

My blade flashes out, burning with a golden flame as my [Power Strike] cleaves forward. Kiers, not expecting me to recover so quickly, fails to dodge in time.

Nadir tears open his armor like a hot knife through butter.

Kiers’ falchion falls to the ground as he grasps at his chest, panic filling his glowing-red eyes. The fire around us dies, and his hands are raised heavenwards.

“I surrender!” An unexpectedly squeaky voice echoes out of the helmet.

Guards rush forward and help escort him off the stage.

And just like that, there were only three more matches to go.