Chapter 118: Baptism
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
Chapter 118: Baptism
Bad Jimu! You shitty cat, I'll cook you in a fucking stew!
With a meaty pork bone clamped between his jaws, the feline bandit leaps gracefully out the window, stopping to glance back at me in smug victory. I blame the twins, they're always feeding that fatty, giggling when I attempt to scold them. I have no power over them and they know it, those little terrors getting away with everything they can. Alsantset was the disciplinarian, and Charok is mostly content to let kids be kids, leaving me to fill in as bad cop, a job I'm ill-suited for. A single pout from either of them is enough to break my heart, and they're old enough to know how to take advantage.
Slamming the shutters closed, I return to cooking breakfast in the dimly lit kitchen, muttering obscenities beneath my breath. Cat doesn't taste very good but I'm harbouring thoughts of cat hot-pot every day, if only to relieve my financial burdens. I should have kept more money instead of giving it all to Akanai, over a thousand gold packed neatly in a compact case. In a few short months, those tiny, adorable kittens have grown into hulking beasts, 200 kilgrams of fangs and muscle with plenty of growing still to be done. Keeping them well fed is a full-time job, but with so many other things for me to do, I've resorted to outsourcing their meals, burning through all my coin. If not for Mila and Li Song adopting one and easing my workload, I would have gone broke feeding these stupid cats. Huu is a smarter man than I, choosing coin over these bottomless pits of debt and suffering.
A snorting chuff draws my attention as Auric rubs his head against my leg, eyes wide as he begs for a treat. Helpless against his charms, I toss a bone out the kitchen and he pounces after it with a happy yowl. Named for his golden fur, Auric still prefers to sleep snuggled against me while Jimu has his own place in the quin stables, getting along fabulously with the pups who are close in size. Pafu and Suret are teaching the pups how to hunt, unlike the worthless thief and beggar cat duo who play around all day, napping wherever they please.
Once breakfast is almost ready, I make my way to the twins' room, walking in and waking them gently, grinning from ear to ear at their sleepy faces. Good morning my little sweetlings, how are you today? Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m
Morning Rainy. Tate rushes out the room as soon as he's dressed, full of energy and calling for the cats, who react accordingly and ignore him. Tali is more subdued, leaning sleepily against me as I dress her and insisting I carry her to the dining room. Tate joins us shortly, followed by a train of cats and quins as they settle around the table, hoping for scraps as they lick their lips, fangs protruding as their mouths hang open, panting in anticipation. One pup rests his head on my thigh while Auric takes the other thigh, both staring up at me as I eat. It was cute when they were tiny, but their heads now weigh about 30-40 kilos a piece, their begging ways cutting off blood circulation.
After a simple breakfast of salted pork bone congee and fried dough fritters, the three of us walk hand in hand to the training grounds, followed by our menagerie of pets. Everyone we pass stops to greet us, most trying to make inane conversation about the weather or their gardens or some other boring topic. All the social niceties are starting to get to me and if it wasn't for the twins, I'd choose to live on the outskirts like Taduk, avoiding all the small talk and obligations that come with living in a small community. It's mentally exhausting.
Waving goodbye as Tali and Tate run off to join their friends, my heart clenches in a moment of grief. They grow up so fast, already learning the Forms, firing arrows and practicing meditation, all the skills necessary to survive in this harsh and bloody world. I had hoped Auric and Jimu would be their lifelong companions, but watching the two stupid cats lick themselves without concern as the twins run off, those dreams are fading fast. The two wildcats lack the pack mentality, independent creatures that prefer to lead solitary lives.
This is why dogs are better.
Wrenching myself away from the training grounds, I herd the animals towards the edge of the village, vacantly smiling at the incessant greetings as I prepare for the arduous day ahead. Within minutes, I am joined by a steady stream of the damned, former soldiers turned Sentinel trainees, their posture defeated and docile as we march towards our grim fate. A bleak atmosphere greets us as we arrive at the temporary barracks, the trainees shuffling off to queue up for breakfast while I stand around looking suitably imposing, eavesdropping on the conversations around me.
Behind a table, Bulat stands listlessly, filling bowls with rice as his mother Maira browbeats him into submission. Stand up straight boy, yer a soldier, act like one. You work hard out there, you hear? We've plenty to be grateful for, so don't you dare disappoint our benefactors. Grabbing his face with one hand, she twists his head to look straight at her. Answer me when I'm talkin' to you boy.
His hangdog expression is almost comical as he answers, the very picture of a dutiful and suffering son. Yes Ma, Bulat will do his best.
You just look to Gerel, do as he do. Now there's a proper soldier, always polite and straight-backed, handsome too.
Yes Ma, just like Senior Captain Gerel, a hero among men, tiger among sheep. Poor guy, he seemed happier as a cripple with no future. No wonder he joined the army.
Brushing off his collar, her hands leave trails of flour behind on his leather armour. None of your lip boy. I met a proper lass, a village girl named Dei An over there by the meat buns. Smile, boy, are you daft? Pretty as a flower ain't she? Loves to cook and sew, you go speak with her when you've a chance now. The least you could do is leave me some grandchildren to raise a'fore you go gallavantin' across the Empire .
Bulat's eyes show plenty of interest while he studies Dei An, giving her a tiny wave as she smiles back at him, a lovely young woman in the prime of her life. Yes Ma, plenty o' grandchildren. I'm surprised he isn't drooling. Is that how I look when I stare at women?
A wild swing catches me on the shoulder, sending me tumbling head over heels through the flattened grass and dirt. Disoriented, I struggle quickly to my feet, spinning quickly to find my opponent and balance. After a few spine-tingling seconds, the world stops spinning and I see Vichear standing still, his sword resting point first in the ground as he patiently waits for me to regain my bearings. Opening my mouth wide in an effort to end the ringing in my ears, I blink several times, trying to clear my thoughts and come up with a plan to defeat this Goliath.
Let me take over brother, I cannot promise victory, but I can put up a better defense.
Inwardly shaking my head, I answer him silently. No, I need the practice. I can't rely on you for everything, I gotta pull my own weight around here.
As you wish brother. Other me has been surprisingly compliant lately, more laid back and easy-going ever since his month-long nap. He's still pretty bloodthirsty, but no more than a normal Sentinel, without a single rant about doom or dismemberment. I think leaving him toys to play with helps, mostly cards and board games created in my mental space, giving him something to do in his spare time. He also loves to play mahjong, and I let him take over to play whenever I get the chance. He's not so bad anymore, and I actually like having him around, like an intangible little brother to play games with.
Taking time to adjust my breathing, I focus on the match at hand, choosing a plan of action before nodding at Vichear. With his deep belly laugh, a hearty chuckle that compels you to laugh with him, he lifts his sword and waves me forward. Come boyo, I know you can do better than this, don't you be scared of hurting old Vichy. Smacking his armoured belly, he snorts loudly over the racket. You need a few more years yet before you can put a dent in this mountain of fat.
Smiling silently, I take a single step back and ready myself to burst into action. Focusing all my weight on my left foot, I begin to perform Balance on Windy Leaf, leaning forward to begin my charge. My strength explodes, travelling down my leg and through my calf, a cloud of dirt flaring from behind my foot as I execute Bull Form: Scraping the Ground. My body surges forward in a single bound, appearing instantly in front of Vichear as my sword thrusts towards his midsection, completing the new attack with Pierce the Horizon. A three form combination charge, the next level in my most powerful attack, the culmination of months of practice after drawing insight from my match against Ouyang Yu Jin.
The world seems to move in slow motion as Vichear contorts his body, spinning gracefully as if weightless, twirling through the air and batting my sword aside. My admiration is cut short as my face crashes into his elbow, and like a puppet with its strings cut, I collapse to the dirt. The world spinning once again, I try to make sense of what just happened, staring without seeing, the warm, coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.
Welp... There goes months of practice. Back to the drawing board.
Vichear's smiling, dark-skinned face peers down at me, his teeth gleaming white. Damn boyo, you gave me a fright there, smashed yourself right into me. Fast little bugger, aren't you? Guess I was wrong, you've plenty of power in them spindly legs.
Fuck you man. My voice is slurred and drowsy, my head struggling to lift itself. You... you phony! How are you so agile? You're big and fat, you should be slow and clumsy, it's not fair... Too OP, nerf Bears please.
Lifting me by the vest with a meaty palm, he sets me gingerly on my feet before clapping me on the back, laughing heartily, taking no offense at my words. Impressive eh? Dance lessons, that's my secret. I joined for a woman, but who would have known? Soon after my debut opera performance, I killed my first Demon while out on routine patrol. They don't call it a sword dance for nothing. Belting out a few notes in a beautiful baritone, he guides my unsteady steps over to the shade, sitting me down and patting my back as I cradle my face, fighting the urge to vomit. Good show out there, you fix up that dent in your face and come back for another round when you're good and ready.
This is my life now, beating up trainees and being beaten in turn, a vicious cycle. Lamenting my fate and complaining to Other me, I heal my fracture bones while I rest my eyes, the months of built up fatigue weighing heavily on me. The six month time limit is coming to an end soon and I can only pray that my squad makes the cut, the imagined punishment enough to send a shiver down my spine. Seeing Tate and Tali enthusiastically practicing their martial skills scares me even more, the thought of those two darlings falling to the Defiled a recurring nightmare, sprinkled with tiny bones and terrifying screams in the backdrop of our ruined village. I need to be stronger, strong enough to protect them from the Defiled, the Society, wild animals and everything else this shit hole of a world has in store.
Maybe the trainees will hate me for pushing them this hard, but I'm doing what needs to be done. I miss being one of the guys and hanging out with them, gambling and dicing, talking about women and life. Now, they all grow hushed and wide-eyed whenever I'm around, saluting and bowing despite my protests. It's almost as exhausting as making small talk.
Enough rest. Stand. Gerel's firm tone brooks no argument and I leap to obey, the reflex literally beaten into me. As much as I idolize the man, easygoing is not a word I would use to describe him. He makes Akanai seem rational at times, willing to dole out physical punishment at the slightest infraction, likely with orders to whip me into shape. Standing before me with his massive glaive held to one side, he looks down at me, a bald, amber-eyed god of war, scornful of my weakness. We spar.
Sigh... Only now do I understand, life and tribulation are truly one and the same.
Chapter Meme
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Chapter 118: Baptism
Bad Jimu! You shitty cat, I'll cook you in a fucking stew!
With a meaty pork bone clamped between his jaws, the feline bandit leaps gracefully out the window, stopping to glance back at me in smug victory. I blame the twins, they're always feeding that fatty, giggling when I attempt to scold them. I have no power over them and they know it, those little terrors getting away with everything they can. Alsantset was the disciplinarian, and Charok is mostly content to let kids be kids, leaving me to fill in as bad cop, a job I'm ill-suited for. A single pout from either of them is enough to break my heart, and they're old enough to know how to take advantage.
Slamming the shutters closed, I return to cooking breakfast in the dimly lit kitchen, muttering obscenities beneath my breath. Cat doesn't taste very good but I'm harbouring thoughts of cat hot-pot every day, if only to relieve my financial burdens. I should have kept more money instead of giving it all to Akanai, over a thousand gold packed neatly in a compact case. In a few short months, those tiny, adorable kittens have grown into hulking beasts, 200 kilgrams of fangs and muscle with plenty of growing still to be done. Keeping them well fed is a full-time job, but with so many other things for me to do, I've resorted to outsourcing their meals, burning through all my coin. If not for Mila and Li Song adopting one and easing my workload, I would have gone broke feeding these stupid cats. Huu is a smarter man than I, choosing coin over these bottomless pits of debt and suffering.
A snorting chuff draws my attention as Auric rubs his head against my leg, eyes wide as he begs for a treat. Helpless against his charms, I toss a bone out the kitchen and he pounces after it with a happy yowl. Named for his golden fur, Auric still prefers to sleep snuggled against me while Jimu has his own place in the quin stables, getting along fabulously with the pups who are close in size. Pafu and Suret are teaching the pups how to hunt, unlike the worthless thief and beggar cat duo who play around all day, napping wherever they please.
Once breakfast is almost ready, I make my way to the twins' room, walking in and waking them gently, grinning from ear to ear at their sleepy faces. Good morning my little sweetlings, how are you today? Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m
Morning Rainy. Tate rushes out the room as soon as he's dressed, full of energy and calling for the cats, who react accordingly and ignore him. Tali is more subdued, leaning sleepily against me as I dress her and insisting I carry her to the dining room. Tate joins us shortly, followed by a train of cats and quins as they settle around the table, hoping for scraps as they lick their lips, fangs protruding as their mouths hang open, panting in anticipation. One pup rests his head on my thigh while Auric takes the other thigh, both staring up at me as I eat. It was cute when they were tiny, but their heads now weigh about 30-40 kilos a piece, their begging ways cutting off blood circulation.
After a simple breakfast of salted pork bone congee and fried dough fritters, the three of us walk hand in hand to the training grounds, followed by our menagerie of pets. Everyone we pass stops to greet us, most trying to make inane conversation about the weather or their gardens or some other boring topic. All the social niceties are starting to get to me and if it wasn't for the twins, I'd choose to live on the outskirts like Taduk, avoiding all the small talk and obligations that come with living in a small community. It's mentally exhausting.
Waving goodbye as Tali and Tate run off to join their friends, my heart clenches in a moment of grief. They grow up so fast, already learning the Forms, firing arrows and practicing meditation, all the skills necessary to survive in this harsh and bloody world. I had hoped Auric and Jimu would be their lifelong companions, but watching the two stupid cats lick themselves without concern as the twins run off, those dreams are fading fast. The two wildcats lack the pack mentality, independent creatures that prefer to lead solitary lives.
This is why dogs are better.
Wrenching myself away from the training grounds, I herd the animals towards the edge of the village, vacantly smiling at the incessant greetings as I prepare for the arduous day ahead. Within minutes, I am joined by a steady stream of the damned, former soldiers turned Sentinel trainees, their posture defeated and docile as we march towards our grim fate. A bleak atmosphere greets us as we arrive at the temporary barracks, the trainees shuffling off to queue up for breakfast while I stand around looking suitably imposing, eavesdropping on the conversations around me.
Behind a table, Bulat stands listlessly, filling bowls with rice as his mother Maira browbeats him into submission. Stand up straight boy, yer a soldier, act like one. You work hard out there, you hear? We've plenty to be grateful for, so don't you dare disappoint our benefactors. Grabbing his face with one hand, she twists his head to look straight at her. Answer me when I'm talkin' to you boy.
His hangdog expression is almost comical as he answers, the very picture of a dutiful and suffering son. Yes Ma, Bulat will do his best.
You just look to Gerel, do as he do. Now there's a proper soldier, always polite and straight-backed, handsome too.
Yes Ma, just like Senior Captain Gerel, a hero among men, tiger among sheep. Poor guy, he seemed happier as a cripple with no future. No wonder he joined the army.
Brushing off his collar, her hands leave trails of flour behind on his leather armour. None of your lip boy. I met a proper lass, a village girl named Dei An over there by the meat buns. Smile, boy, are you daft? Pretty as a flower ain't she? Loves to cook and sew, you go speak with her when you've a chance now. The least you could do is leave me some grandchildren to raise a'fore you go gallavantin' across the Empire .
Bulat's eyes show plenty of interest while he studies Dei An, giving her a tiny wave as she smiles back at him, a lovely young woman in the prime of her life. Yes Ma, plenty o' grandchildren. I'm surprised he isn't drooling. Is that how I look when I stare at women?
A wild swing catches me on the shoulder, sending me tumbling head over heels through the flattened grass and dirt. Disoriented, I struggle quickly to my feet, spinning quickly to find my opponent and balance. After a few spine-tingling seconds, the world stops spinning and I see Vichear standing still, his sword resting point first in the ground as he patiently waits for me to regain my bearings. Opening my mouth wide in an effort to end the ringing in my ears, I blink several times, trying to clear my thoughts and come up with a plan to defeat this Goliath.
Let me take over brother, I cannot promise victory, but I can put up a better defense.
Inwardly shaking my head, I answer him silently. No, I need the practice. I can't rely on you for everything, I gotta pull my own weight around here.
As you wish brother. Other me has been surprisingly compliant lately, more laid back and easy-going ever since his month-long nap. He's still pretty bloodthirsty, but no more than a normal Sentinel, without a single rant about doom or dismemberment. I think leaving him toys to play with helps, mostly cards and board games created in my mental space, giving him something to do in his spare time. He also loves to play mahjong, and I let him take over to play whenever I get the chance. He's not so bad anymore, and I actually like having him around, like an intangible little brother to play games with.
Taking time to adjust my breathing, I focus on the match at hand, choosing a plan of action before nodding at Vichear. With his deep belly laugh, a hearty chuckle that compels you to laugh with him, he lifts his sword and waves me forward. Come boyo, I know you can do better than this, don't you be scared of hurting old Vichy. Smacking his armoured belly, he snorts loudly over the racket. You need a few more years yet before you can put a dent in this mountain of fat.
Smiling silently, I take a single step back and ready myself to burst into action. Focusing all my weight on my left foot, I begin to perform Balance on Windy Leaf, leaning forward to begin my charge. My strength explodes, travelling down my leg and through my calf, a cloud of dirt flaring from behind my foot as I execute Bull Form: Scraping the Ground. My body surges forward in a single bound, appearing instantly in front of Vichear as my sword thrusts towards his midsection, completing the new attack with Pierce the Horizon. A three form combination charge, the next level in my most powerful attack, the culmination of months of practice after drawing insight from my match against Ouyang Yu Jin.
The world seems to move in slow motion as Vichear contorts his body, spinning gracefully as if weightless, twirling through the air and batting my sword aside. My admiration is cut short as my face crashes into his elbow, and like a puppet with its strings cut, I collapse to the dirt. The world spinning once again, I try to make sense of what just happened, staring without seeing, the warm, coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.
Welp... There goes months of practice. Back to the drawing board.
Vichear's smiling, dark-skinned face peers down at me, his teeth gleaming white. Damn boyo, you gave me a fright there, smashed yourself right into me. Fast little bugger, aren't you? Guess I was wrong, you've plenty of power in them spindly legs.
Fuck you man. My voice is slurred and drowsy, my head struggling to lift itself. You... you phony! How are you so agile? You're big and fat, you should be slow and clumsy, it's not fair... Too OP, nerf Bears please.
Lifting me by the vest with a meaty palm, he sets me gingerly on my feet before clapping me on the back, laughing heartily, taking no offense at my words. Impressive eh? Dance lessons, that's my secret. I joined for a woman, but who would have known? Soon after my debut opera performance, I killed my first Demon while out on routine patrol. They don't call it a sword dance for nothing. Belting out a few notes in a beautiful baritone, he guides my unsteady steps over to the shade, sitting me down and patting my back as I cradle my face, fighting the urge to vomit. Good show out there, you fix up that dent in your face and come back for another round when you're good and ready.
This is my life now, beating up trainees and being beaten in turn, a vicious cycle. Lamenting my fate and complaining to Other me, I heal my fracture bones while I rest my eyes, the months of built up fatigue weighing heavily on me. The six month time limit is coming to an end soon and I can only pray that my squad makes the cut, the imagined punishment enough to send a shiver down my spine. Seeing Tate and Tali enthusiastically practicing their martial skills scares me even more, the thought of those two darlings falling to the Defiled a recurring nightmare, sprinkled with tiny bones and terrifying screams in the backdrop of our ruined village. I need to be stronger, strong enough to protect them from the Defiled, the Society, wild animals and everything else this shit hole of a world has in store.
Maybe the trainees will hate me for pushing them this hard, but I'm doing what needs to be done. I miss being one of the guys and hanging out with them, gambling and dicing, talking about women and life. Now, they all grow hushed and wide-eyed whenever I'm around, saluting and bowing despite my protests. It's almost as exhausting as making small talk.
Enough rest. Stand. Gerel's firm tone brooks no argument and I leap to obey, the reflex literally beaten into me. As much as I idolize the man, easygoing is not a word I would use to describe him. He makes Akanai seem rational at times, willing to dole out physical punishment at the slightest infraction, likely with orders to whip me into shape. Standing before me with his massive glaive held to one side, he looks down at me, a bald, amber-eyed god of war, scornful of my weakness. We spar.
Sigh... Only now do I understand, life and tribulation are truly one and the same.
Chapter Meme
Chapter 118: BaptismBad Jimu! You shitty cat, I'll cook you in a fucking stew! With a meaty pork bone clamped between his jaws, the feline bandit leaps gracefully out the window, stopping to glance back at me in smug victory. I blame the twins, they're always feeding that fatty, giggling when I attempt to scold them. I have no power over them and they know it, those little terrors getting away with everything they can. Alsantset was the disciplinarian, and Charok is mostly content to let kids be kids, leaving me to fill in as bad cop, a job I'm ill-suited for. A single pout from either of them is enough to break my heart, and they're old enough to know how to take advantage. Slamming the shutters closed, I return to cooking breakfast in the dimly lit kitchen, muttering obscenities beneath my breath. Cat doesn't taste very good but I'm harbouring thoughts of cat hot-pot every day, if only to relieve my financial burdens. I should have kept more money instead of giving it all to Akanai, over a thousand gold packed neatly in a compact case. In a few short months, those tiny, adorable kittens have grown into hulking beasts, 200 kilgrams of fangs and muscle with plenty of growing still to be done. Keeping them well fed is a full-time job, but with so many other things for me to do, I've resorted to outsourcing their meals, burning through all my coin. If not for Mila and Li Song adopting one and easing my workload, I would have gone broke feeding these stupid cats. Huu is a smarter man than I, choosing coin over these bottomless pits of debt and suffering. A snorting chuff draws my attention as Auric rubs his head against my leg, eyes wide as he begs for a treat. Helpless against his charms, I toss a bone out the kitchen and he pounces after it with a happy yowl. Named for his golden fur, Auric still prefers to sleep snuggled against me while Jimu has his own place in the quin stables, getting along fabulously with the pups who are close in size. Pafu and Suret are teaching the pups how to hunt, unlike the worthless thief and beggar cat duo who play around all day, napping wherever they please. Once breakfast is almost ready, I make my way to the twins' room, walking in and waking them gently, grinning from ear to ear at their sleepy faces. Good morning my little sweetlings, how are you today? Updated from novelbin.comMorning Rainy. Tate rushes out the room as soon as he's dressed, full of energy and calling for the cats, who react accordingly and ignore him. Tali is more subdued, leaning sleepily against me as I dress her and insisting I carry her to the dining room. Tate joins us shortly, followed by a train of cats and quins as they settle around the table, hoping for scraps as they lick their lips, fangs protruding as their mouths hang open, panting in anticipation. One pup rests his head on my thigh while Auric takes the other thigh, both staring up at me as I eat. It was cute when they were tiny, but their heads now weigh about 30-40 kilos a piece, their begging ways cutting off blood circulation. After a simple breakfast of salted pork bone congee and fried dough fritters, the three of us walk hand in hand to the training grounds, followed by our menagerie of pets. Everyone we pass stops to greet us, most trying to make inane conversation about the weather or their gardens or some other boring topic. All the social niceties are starting to get to me and if it wasn't for the twins, I'd choose to live on the outskirts like Taduk, avoiding all the small talk and obligations that come with living in a small community. It's mentally exhausting. Waving goodbye as Tali and Tate run off to join their friends, my heart clenches in a moment of grief. They grow up so fast, already learning the Forms, firing arrows and practicing meditation, all the skills necessary to survive in this harsh and bloody world. I had hoped Auric and Jimu would be their lifelong companions, but watching the two stupid cats lick themselves without concern as the twins run off, those dreams are fading fast. The two wildcats lack the pack mentality, independent creatures that prefer to lead solitary lives. This is why dogs are better. Wrenching myself away from the training grounds, I herd the animals towards the edge of the village, vacantly smiling at the incessant greetings as I prepare for the arduous day ahead. Within minutes, I am joined by a steady stream of the damned, former soldiers turned Sentinel trainees, their posture defeated and docile as we march towards our grim fate. A bleak atmosphere greets us as we arrive at the temporary barracks, the trainees shuffling off to queue up for breakfast while I stand around looking suitably imposing, eavesdropping on the conversations around me.Behind a table, Bulat stands listlessly, filling bowls with rice as his mother Maira browbeats him into submission. Stand up straight boy, yer a soldier, act like one. You work hard out there, you hear? We've plenty to be grateful for, so don't you dare disappoint our benefactors. Grabbing his face with one hand, she twists his head to look straight at her. Answer me when I'm talkin' to you boy. His hangdog expression is almost comical as he answers, the very picture of a dutiful and suffering son. Yes Ma, Bulat will do his best. You just look to Gerel, do as he do. Now there's a proper soldier, always polite and straight-backed, handsome too. Yes Ma, just like Senior Captain Gerel, a hero among men, tiger among sheep. Poor guy, he seemed happier as a cripple with no future. No wonder he joined the army. Brushing off his collar, her hands leave trails of flour behind on his leather armour. None of your lip boy. I met a proper lass, a village girl named Dei An over there by the meat buns. Smile, boy, are you daft? Pretty as a flower ain't she? Loves to cook and sew, you go speak with her when you've a chance now. The least you could do is leave me some grandchildren to raise a'fore you go gallavantin' across the Empire . Bulat's eyes show plenty of interest while he studies Dei An, giving her a tiny wave as she smiles back at him, a lovely young woman in the prime of her life. Yes Ma, plenty o' grandchildren. I'm surprised he isn't drooling. Is that how I look when I stare at women? A wild swing catches me on the shoulder, sending me tumbling head over heels through the flattened grass and dirt. Disoriented, I struggle quickly to my feet, spinning quickly to find my opponent and balance. After a few spine-tingling seconds, the world stops spinning and I see Vichear standing still, his sword resting point first in the ground as he patiently waits for me to regain my bearings. Opening my mouth wide in an effort to end the ringing in my ears, I blink several times, trying to clear my thoughts and come up with a plan to defeat this Goliath. Let me take over brother, I cannot promise victory, but I can put up a better defense. Inwardly shaking my head, I answer him silently. No, I need the practice. I can't rely on you for everything, I gotta pull my own weight around here. As you wish brother. Other me has been surprisingly compliant lately, more laid back and easy-going ever since his month-long nap. He's still pretty bloodthirsty, but no more than a normal Sentinel, without a single rant about doom or dismemberment. I think leaving him toys to play with helps, mostly cards and board games created in my mental space, giving him something to do in his spare time. He also loves to play mahjong, and I let him take over to play whenever I get the chance. He's not so bad anymore, and I actually like having him around, like an intangible little brother to play games with. Taking time to adjust my breathing, I focus on the match at hand, choosing a plan of action before nodding at Vichear. With his deep belly laugh, a hearty chuckle that compels you to laugh with him, he lifts his sword and waves me forward. Come boyo, I know you can do better than this, don't you be scared of hurting old Vichy. Smacking his armoured belly, he snorts loudly over the racket. You need a few more years yet before you can put a dent in this mountain of fat. Smiling silently, I take a single step back and ready myself to burst into action. Focusing all my weight on my left foot, I begin to perform Balance on Windy Leaf, leaning forward to begin my charge. My strength explodes, travelling down my leg and through my calf, a cloud of dirt flaring from behind my foot as I execute Bull Form: Scraping the Ground. My body surges forward in a single bound, appearing instantly in front of Vichear as my sword thrusts towards his midsection, completing the new attack with Pierce the Horizon. A three form combination charge, the next level in my most powerful attack, the culmination of months of practice after drawing insight from my match against Ouyang Yu Jin. The world seems to move in slow motion as Vichear contorts his body, spinning gracefully as if weightless, twirling through the air and batting my sword aside. My admiration is cut short as my face crashes into his elbow, and like a puppet with its strings cut, I collapse to the dirt. The world spinning once again, I try to make sense of what just happened, staring without seeing, the warm, coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. Welp... There goes months of practice. Back to the drawing board. Vichear's smiling, dark-skinned face peers down at me, his teeth gleaming white. Damn boyo, you gave me a fright there, smashed yourself right into me. Fast little bugger, aren't you? Guess I was wrong, you've plenty of power in them spindly legs. Fuck you man. My voice is slurred and drowsy, my head struggling to lift itself. You... you phony! How are you so agile? You're big and fat, you should be slow and clumsy, it's not fair... Too OP, nerf Bears please. Lifting me by the vest with a meaty palm, he sets me gingerly on my feet before clapping me on the back, laughing heartily, taking no offense at my words. Impressive eh? Dance lessons, that's my secret. I joined for a woman, but who would have known? Soon after my debut opera performance, I killed my first Demon while out on routine patrol. They don't call it a sword dance for nothing. Belting out a few notes in a beautiful baritone, he guides my unsteady steps over to the shade, sitting me down and patting my back as I cradle my face, fighting the urge to vomit. Good show out there, you fix up that dent in your face and come back for another round when you're good and ready.This is my life now, beating up trainees and being beaten in turn, a vicious cycle. Lamenting my fate and complaining to Other me, I heal my fracture bones while I rest my eyes, the months of built up fatigue weighing heavily on me. The six month time limit is coming to an end soon and I can only pray that my squad makes the cut, the imagined punishment enough to send a shiver down my spine. Seeing Tate and Tali enthusiastically practicing their martial skills scares me even more, the thought of those two darlings falling to the Defiled a recurring nightmare, sprinkled with tiny bones and terrifying screams in the backdrop of our ruined village. I need to be stronger, strong enough to protect them from the Defiled, the Society, wild animals and everything else this shit hole of a world has in store. Maybe the trainees will hate me for pushing them this hard, but I'm doing what needs to be done. I miss being one of the guys and hanging out with them, gambling and dicing, talking about women and life. Now, they all grow hushed and wide-eyed whenever I'm around, saluting and bowing despite my protests. It's almost as exhausting as making small talk. Enough rest. Stand. Gerel's firm tone brooks no argument and I leap to obey, the reflex literally beaten into me. As much as I idolize the man, easygoing is not a word I would use to describe him. He makes Akanai seem rational at times, willing to dole out physical punishment at the slightest infraction, likely with orders to whip me into shape. Standing before me with his massive glaive held to one side, he looks down at me, a bald, amber-eyed god of war, scornful of my weakness. We spar. Sigh... Only now do I understand, life and tribulation are truly one and the same. Chapter Meme
