Chapter 68 - The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer (Patreon)

Twisting to the side, the short blade passed in front of my chest, the man dressed in grey blinking at my dodge. Slipping into the slowed time of [Meditation], I had all the opportunity in the world to strike out with the active effect of [Unarmed Combat].

Unarmed Combat - Tier 1: 14

The primal form of combat often causing as much pain to the defender as the assailant. Feet, hands, elbows, knees, head, and teeth. Every part is a weapon.

Passive Effect:

Lesser: Painful Blow - Unarmed strikes cause slightly more pain.

Active Trigger Effect:

Minor: Overwhelming Blow - An unarmed strike will deliver significantly greater force.

Minor: Pugilist's Protection - Your strikes are protected.

I felt like I could take forever in the slowed time of [Meditation] to align the knuckles of my right fist an inch above the assassin's grip. When I first learned [Unarmed Combat], I had hoped for the Skill's speed-enhancing version. I wasn't a massive brute of a man like my father, and Overwhelming Blow seemed to be a poor fit. It took my mother to demonstrate the actual value of the Skill. Combined with pugilist's protection, my fist slammed into the blade, metal denting slightly behind my blow. Then the cost of using the active effect of [Unarmed Combat] slammed through my body. I shrugged off the non-physical exhaustion from many hours of practice, but I knew that I would have to time my usage I wanted to remain upright. Under the sudden ringing blow, the blade jumped from the man's hand, his eyes going wide in sudden surprise.

The disarming was as much a surprise to me as it was to the man in grey. I had struck hard but only counted on the blow to open his stance and give me room to attack. Stepping forward into his sudden retreat, I kept my body in tight, arms held in a pugilist's pose. Behind me, I could hear a sudden shout of surprise, the sounds seeming to come at a typical speed, but the slowed world told me that was simply a trick of my own mind. Before I could strike again, a brief flash of magic curled over the man's arm, a lash of magic whipped out and grabbed the lost blade. The weapon scraped across the ground then jumped, handle first, toward the assassin.

There was no way I would be able to disarm him a second time, and an unarmed fight against a sword-wielding opponent was a quick way to leave my intestines on the floor. Dropping my protective bare-knuckle stance, I charged and tackled the young man. Slamming into his body, I let out a burst of air from my lungs, the man far more substantial than his slim body suggested. In fact, my tackle almost became a toss as he tried to twist and throw me away from his body. If the man had been trained at any point, his strength would have been enough to overcome my attack. As it was, he was distracted, trying to use his newly claimed sword while attempting to peel me from his waist. In my twisted half-wrestling position, I could see where the man was distractedly looking as he scrambled to bring his sword down on my body. My direct assault had been enough to allow Snowy to enter combat while Abby looked on in surprise at her feet where she had been dropped.

Snowy was unarmed, but with her [Improvised Weaponry] Skill, she was never without a weapon. Grabbing the decorative table beside the door, the vase of flowers falling without notice, Snowy never slowed as her weapon rose and slammed leg first into the man in grey. The impact clearly stunned him, his weapon falling from limp fingers as I scrambled away, scooping the blade from the carpet for myself. Snowy continued to rain down blows on the man, his body cracking with each impact, blood flying, but reforming as he tried to back away. Snowy's table snapped, leaving her a broken piece of wood that she used without compunction as a splintered shiv. The wood entered through his stomach with a sickening sound of ripping meat.

In my magical sight, I watched the magic flowing into the man. Each impact pulled a burst of magic from the world to condense into his body. His Skill stopped the bleeding and healed his broken bones. Stepping away from the man, Snowy tried to grab a fallen piece of broken furniture to replace the weapon encased in the man's flesh, which was the pause the assassin needed. Ripping the broken wood from his stomach, the man pumped air and magic into his body like a bellows then roared a sound of pain and anger. He no longer looked hurt or in pain. Instead, he sneered at us as his hand came back, and magic flowed into him and out to his arm, his fist bursting into flames.

"MAGE!" I screamed—the first words spoken since we entered Abby's suite.

Flicking my new weapon up in a cross-cut, I watched the flames burst forth from the man's stump, his severed hand spinning through the air in a spiral. Across the edge of the blade, a light shimmer of magic coiled like an oily film, the thinly etched runes flaring with magic, then returning to a dark glow. Staring at the severed limb, the man gasped, his jaw-dropping in surprise at the injury, though I could see bone growing even now from the end. Whimpering as he curled himself over his wound, he fell to his knees. Swinging with all her force, Snowy slammed her new impromptu weapon across the wounded Mage's face. His body arched backward over his kneeled position, the back of his head making a hollowed sound as it hit the carpet. The man's nose was so much shattered meat and blood, teeth bending from the split lip, but he still blinked at the ceiling as I approached. Putting his hands, both now whole, on the ground, he tried to rise from his awkward bent posture.

“AAAAAH!” Snowy yelled as her broken club slammed into the man's face again, the bone-shattering, his eyes crossing in confusion.

Slicing down, I severed the arm closest to me, the limb flopping to the carpet in the ever-growing pool of blood. Still, the man tried to move, his glassy eyes coming into focus again as we stood over him in horror. The stump of his amputated arm flopped in a half-hazard manner, even now beginning to regrow. At the same time, he tried to rise—the look in the Mage's eyes as terrified as our own. The magic swirling around the man was like a deluge, mixing into his body through every inch, his Skill keeping him awake and moving. His bent, twisted position left him unable to take a deep breath. His rasping breath unable to draw in for a scream, but I could hear it in every one of my own gasps.

Again, Snowy slammed her weapon down, the wood cracking from the new blow. The skin and bone over the man's forehead peeled back with the strike but reknitted before Snowy could do more than raise her broken weapon. Driving the enchanted rune blade through the man's chest, I felt the moment the blade cut through the Mage's heart, the magic stuttering. Both his hands scrambled along the blade, the magical edge removing fingers as he tried to grip the weapon, his body shuddering as he tried to inhale. Each shake was followed by slow, jerky movements of his hands, his arms eventually falling to his side. The magic stagnated around him until he finally stopped. Wide-eyed, the Mage's body stared at the ceiling, his body bent backward in a torturous position, arms wide in a pool of blood.

Facing Snowy, her look of terror matched my own, the fight passing all bounds of sanity and entering into the realm of surreal horror. The Mage's ability to recover against everything we brought to bear left him a juggernaut. His only weakness was his pathetic lack of combat training. Even with both of us attacking, he would have eventually recovered and set us both on fire or escaped. Only our relentless assault and the enchanted blade bisecting his heart had finally ended his recovery. If he hadn't been disarmed at the start and left in such an awkward bent position, we wouldn't have won.

Abby stood in the doorway, staring with a horrified look to match my own. Her body shaking in fright, only partially blocking the view of the servants behind her. Shoving his way into the room while demanding they make room, one of the estate guards pushed Abby to the side. At the site of the pair of us and the mutilated corpse between us, he choked then retched. His face went green at the view of the body skewered with a sword surrounded by blood and body parts.

"What is going on!" Shouted the Baron in a slightly slurred voice, his eyes widening as he pushed through the crowd of servants who quickly withdrew. Blinking blurrily at the corpse and the blood, he shot a look of disgust at the still vomiting guard.

"Get out of here. Out!" He shouted, his voice quickly regaining its strength and dropping the slur, though I noticed he still swayed slightly.

The guard staggered past, but the Baron grabbed his shoulder in passing.

"Stand outside. Let no one else in," the noble said.

Closing the door, the Baron stared at the corpse then swayed again before he leaned on the door, his face green.

"What? What is this?" the Baron said, his eyes snapping from a bit of broken wood to a severed limb, to the intact corpse.

"Mage, Father. I think we interrupted him poisoning Abby's things," Snowy said. She used her broken wooden weapon to point to the corpses' left hand, where I noticed a leather-wrapped stick of what looked to be a green oily wax. That was the moment I realized that the Mage had been so distracted from the fight he hadn't even dropped his poison and had been fighting one-handed the entire time. Shuddering, I stepped away from the corpse, grabbing a bit of lightly red dotted wall hanging and used it to wipe the blood splatter from my face.

"Why did you…do that," the older man said, his voice was clear and without judgment. Seeing his face, I could see only confusion at the scene.

"He kept healing," Snowy answered with a shrug, her normal unflappable stability returning to her now that she had come to grips with the horror.

Nodding, the Baron came closer to look at the man's face, then shook his head.

"Mage you said? I don't recognize him. Not that I would. I only know some of the Noble Mage's-" the Baron began, but I waved him to silence as I stared at the corpse.

Mana was pouring into the corpse, a stream that started slowly but rapidly increased. Waving everyone back, I pulled free the blade embedded in the carcass and held it ready. The mana became a giant wave, the magic entering and continuing out, as the body began to shake, the rent in his chest silently closing before our eyes. Then the body shuddered a final time, and the eyes blinked. Hands grasped at its chest and scrambled around, the undead body looking left and right as a look of surprise passed over his face, then anger. Bending forward, the undead took a deep breath as mana continued to gush in through its body and into the world. Pulling one knee out from under itself, it rose only to blink in surprise when a thrown blade sprouted from its chest like a street performers trick.

Standing there, weapon held out, ready to defend us from the undead creature, I could only stare in shock as the corpse spoke.

"What?" it said, one hand touching the handle of the blade in its chest. A finger gently touched the handle, then flopped back to rest lifeless at its side. The body slowly gave a final twitch before collapsing. In my magical vision, the mana rushing through the corpse twisted and bent, a disturbance flashing around the blade in its chest. Then the magic gushed free like a bung removed from a wine cask. Instead of rushing into the corpse and out again in a wave, the mana curled, twisted, and knotted, breaking apart as it tried to enter the still form. Then, it slowed and stopped.

Staring past the Baron at my apprentice, I found her with a vicious look of pride. Abby's hair was no longer bound but freed. The black strands flowed over her shoulder in a wet, oily cascade, her other blade still in hand and dripping with Noble's Bane.