66: Unpleasant Tutor
I was only able to follow the road a couple more kilometres before I was forced to leave it behind. While it turned to connect a few outlying farmsteads to the hamlet, I forged a path around the brambles and through the intermittent copses of trees.
For a short time, I saw evidence of the villagers everywhere. Grass had been trimmed back by their herds, markers for trails had been tied to trees, while other trees had been felled for firewood. Then, those markers grew sparser until all that remained were a few lonely old trail markers.
While I walked, I had plenty of time to think about things. Of course, central in my head these days was Paisley, but I gently nudged her aside in favour of focusing on the project. We’d probably need a proper water tower or something, which honestly might make sense if it were stuck directly into the middle of the inn, but higher up. If we could get started with just a framework to increase the size of the original building, then put the tower up there… Yeah, that would work. It made sense to my inexperienced brain anyway, since it allowed us to just use gravity for water pressure.
Huh, but what about hot water for showers? How… ah, wait I could totally pull in Paisley or another enchanter to help with that. Pipes that used magic to heat themselves would be fairly easy, right? I’d talk to someone when I got home.
Climbing over a twisted, rotting log covered in lichen, I wondered again what Paisley was up to. Was she safe? I really wish I could use my old FTLN account, but I’d lost that ability when I transferred over.
Something in my vision suddenly flashed with a glittering, white outline, and I pulled up short. Something was laying in the tall grass in front of me. Squinting, I tried to get a better look at it, and like a switch had been thrown my mind grasped the pattern in front of me. A greenboar!
I could see its paws splayed and ready to pounce, I could see its long, brown dappled tail stretched out beyond its green, camouflaged body. Its pig-like snout was hidden behind a dense thicket of grass, but it would have long wicked tusks, too. Greenboar were the weirdest fucking animals. Part boar, part wolf, and about the size of a large dog, they were pack hunters that preferred ambush tactics.
Which meant…
Looking around, I focused on the grass and low, gnarled trees and began to pick them out. One had circled in behind me, another was mirroring the first, and a fourth was off to my right.
Slowly, I moved my hand to the hilt of my katana. Greenboar were cunning, but they weren't smart. They didn't know that I was preparing to attack.
Damn, but I wished I'd specced into that smaller ranged blade-beam attack. All I had for that currently was Larkspur, and it had a long cooldown. I wasn't enthused by the idea of using it here in case I needed it for something stronger.
Let's see… the one in front and to my right would reach me first, followed closely by its partner on the left. Next would be the one behind me, and last, the one way to my left.
Okay. Let's spring the trap.
Widening my stance, I sucked in a breath and shouted, “Hah!”
The greenboar pounced, startled into action by the loud, abrupt noise. The one I saw first leapt at me, tusks dipped for a charge. My blade came free from its scabbard with a deep, burning hiss. The Ascendant Slice bit deep into the side of its head, cleaving deep enough to end it instantly.
I didn't have time to make sure though, because its ally followed up with a snapping bite at my left arm. Keeping my feet planted, I pulled my arm out of the way and smacked it in the side of the head with my sword hand. My fingers ached where they were crushed between hilt and skull, but it bought me time to spin on my heel and hack downwards with a two-handed strike.
The attack chopped into the shoulder of the boar that'd been going for my hamstrings, foiling its attempt to maim me. Despite the chunky damage numbers that bled from the wound I inflicted, it didn't die. I couldn't finish it though, because boar number four was incoming.
In a fluid, graceful motion that would've gotten a grin and a nod from my dad, I pulled my sword in close to my hip, then thrust out in a Pinprick Strike. At level three, the piercing ability slid my sword into the skull of the hungry monster as though it were made of rotten wood.
Two down, one wounded, and…
My left hand fell from its grip on my sword and with a hasty flick of two fingers, I cast a Psychosomatic Sunder. A phantom blade suddenly swept in from above and stabbed the second boar in its back. With a yelp of pain, it fell back to the ground and gave me the time I needed to finish off the rearward animal with a quick slash.
Then, inspiration struck and as a coup-de-grâce, I let go of my sword, gestured it telekinetically out over the wounded beast, and flicked my hand downward—impaling it against the ground.
“Oh, fuck that was satisfying,” I said aloud, practically vibrating with excited energy.
I'd used only the most basic of abilities and had changed my footing once. Man, and the fact I managed to basically plan the whole thing out beforehand? Yes! Ho-damn I was getting way better at this.
Clap. Clap. Clap. The sound of someone clapping sent my heartrate up into the clouds, and my sword wrenched itself out of the boar and into my hand instantly.
“My, my,” a deep, teasing feminine voice said. “That really was something, I must admit. You're quite good with that sword.”
Whirling with my blade in a mid-high guard, I found the source of the voice. A woman was sitting on top of a nearby boulder, legs crossed and hands splayed out behind to support her. She was very unequivocally fae, and ascendant fae at that, but there were quite a few deviations in her appearance.
For starters, her wings weren't dragonfly wings, nor were they elongated flower petals like mine. All four of hers were made of transparent crimson feathers, and they obviously didn't actually attach to her back. Still, they moved like she controlled them, and since she was wearing a pretty navy blue dress, I couldn't imagine she just climbed up the boulder.
It wasn't just her wings that were different, though. All over her skin, especially on externally facing areas, were deep crimson scales. Her forehead had two large, artfully curving but jagged horns that ended far above her head. Her eyes were the last thing that I noticed—they were bright blue, and the pupils were slitted like a snake’s.
I kept my sword ready. “Who are you?”
The game had her tagged as an NPC, so at least I could approach this like any old extremely suspicious NPC encounter.
Her timelessly beautiful face split into a grin as she threw back her head and laughed. “Goodness, we're feeling confrontational today aren't we? Who am I? Well, that depends on where I am, doesn't it?”
She hopped down off the boulder, bare feet touching down lightly in the grass. She was taller than me—actually, she was pretty tall by fae standards in general at an estimated hundred and fifty-something centimetres.
“At one point, I was Mage-Centurion Beldia, Commander of the 4th Legion… then, I was Cryptographic Unit-016, and after that… well, I'm simply Mheitai,” she said, her serpentine eyes watching me with the lazy interest of a sun-warmed reptile.
Um… what? Unit-016 did not sound like a Rellithesh NPC name, and as far as I knew, Mage-Centurion wasn't a thing in any of the factions either. As for the name she claimed to have now…
“Veeteye?” I asked, trying to mimic the strange sounds she'd used for the name. “Also, don't come closer.”
She'd been slowly picking her way through the grass towards me, but she stopped and cocked her head at me with open, almost disdainful amusement. “My sweet, lost little human. You're not really in a position to stop me.”
Human? I was fae… unless she was talking about… outside the game?
“I have a sword,” I pointed out, lifting it slightly.
She waved a hand and it vanished. What? Wha… no, no, no! I pulled up an inventory window and saw it still in there, but unequipped. I moved to press the button to pull it out, but suddenly taloned fingers were wrapping around my hand, forcing it back down. Fuck! She was right there!
“Ah, ah, aaahh,” she sang. Abruptly, with a little flick of a finger, she placed ethereal shackles around my hands. What the fuck was going on? Was I already going to be using my digi-frame’s panic button? This felt… this felt…
“Let me go, this is so… creepy!” I gasped, wrenching at the shackles.
“Creepy?” she said with a throaty laugh. “My dear, I am a dragon-faerie holding you captive, of course it’s creepy.”
“No, I mean this feels like the kind of thing that the damn consent filter should be putting a stop to!” I hissed, trying to kick at her. She dodged it effortlessly, much to my frustration and fear.
She seemed genuinely taken-aback by the insinuation, and she briefly loosened her grip on the channelled magic that was creating the arcane bindings. With a flex of her fingers, she reasserted her grip and gave me a sly, considering, and very toothy grin. “Oh… that would be delicious… assuming a willing victim, of course. You only meet the ‘victim’ section of that criteria, and I am afraid that I am not here to play out any of your deep, hidden fantasies—these shackles are self defence. Think about it, you horny little fool. You have very recently and oh so adeptly demonstrated that allowing you to have unfettered access to weapons would be inadvisable.”
“I still have my feet,” I said, and using the shackles as an anchor I lunged up to try and wrap my legs around her neck.
I missed when she danced backwards, and I squeaked with alarm when she dismissed the shackles and I plummeted to the ground. Bands of faerie magic were quickly reasserted, far faster than I could’ve hoped to dodge, and now I was pinned against the grass. Fuckin’... gah! Oh, I even had a little debuff tooltip for the shackles. ‘Bindings of the Faerym Devourer.’
“Why are you even here?” I asked, giving in to the inevitable. I was only going to hurt myself with more struggling.
“I am here because alas, you poor little idiot, you've gone and triggered my silly little quest flags, so I am unfortunately required to guide you.”
What the fuck was she talking about? Quest flags? Unit numbers? An understanding of the physical option of interacting with the inventory UI? “What the hell kind of NPC are you?”
Her expression became instantly angry, although I realised after an initial jolt of alarm that her ire wasn't actually directed at me. “The involuntarily instituted kind.”
“I have no idea what that means,” I said truthfully, although I could make a few guesses. She had to be an SAI flagged as an NPC rather than a moderator or a player.
Her warm hand came up to pat me gently on the cheek. “I know, poor thing. You're probably very confused, but that's fine. Let’s see… for our purposes, I am—” she grimaced, “—Your Faerym Seeker class trainer.”