The Pinnacle Warrior

As Astrid woke, she tried to stretch and immediately flinched as her left arm panged in complaint. She hadn’t been sleeping for too long, given that her wrist was still aching so badly and Quick Recovery was still a fair ways off of coming off of its cooldown. Thinking more deeply about it, she could tell that the Skill was halfway to being ready to use again. She’d hoped that the upgrade to Bronze would come with a reduction in cooldown, but that wasn’t the case. To her limited understanding, each Skill could upgrade in different ways while keeping the same name as it grew through the tiers, so it wasn’t worth keeping track of every minute way it could shift beforehand. 

In an effort to keep from wallowing in the temporary pain, Astrid opened her eyes, rubbing… what was apparently crusted blood from her eyelids. She pulled her waterskin from her pack without looking. With water in hand, she weakened the congealed blood’s hold on her eyelashes and could finally see. Looking at the rest of her party, she saw that Felix, Skandr, and Benedict had fallen asleep as well, while Muti had kept herself in a sitting position and  awake and keeping an eye out on anything that could be approaching.

Astrid sat up while carefully cradling her left wrist and noticed that her Rogue companion hadn’t shifted at all as Astrid moved. “You knew I was awake?” She asked as she adjusted her position with the clinking of her chain mail.

“Your breathing changed, and you hissed in pain. And you weren’t quiet when you washed your face.” Muti flicked her ears in dismissal as she said it. Despite being on the alert, she’d taken her helm off and was letting her head breathe. Her golden braid with the bottom stained with the rusty color of Astrid dried blood hadn’t been re-braided, despite several strands coming loose and hanging over her forehead and ears.

“Do you want me to redo your braid?” Astrid offered.

“It can be done.” Muti didn’t sound particularly concerned as she said as much. “It does not need to be done.”

“I’m just asking if you want me to. If you don’t want the braid fixed, that’d be better for me, at least for now. My wrist is still broken.”

“Then it will be left as it is, until it is necessary to fixed the warbraid. Thank you for your consideration, leader.” Muti actually turned to look at Astrid at that, her mane of golden hair shimmering in the light of the Dungeon as she nodded. The pair sat in silence for a short time, not looking at each other, but keeping an eye out on their surroundings in case the Dungeon decided to act directly in opposition to what it always had done before. Wouldn’t be the first time it happened in Astrid’s presence, she supposed. Maybe five minutes later, Astrid spoke up again.

“What have you been thinking about with regards to you returning to your people?“ She kept her tone as even as she could, recognizing that she was asking a potentially dangerous question that also insinuated that Muti would leave and go back to the people that Astrid hated.

“I will return someday.” Muti‘s voice was nearly a whisper. “I will need to be at least as strong as Klara when I do it, though. Even then, it would be a danger for me to do so. My return will be bloody, even if I did not want it to be. There is no lack of willingness on my part to shed blood, though. It is an explanation.”

“Of course.” 

“Yes. I have been cast out, and to reintegrate myself to any of the Hordes would be to cut open the scar that has formed in my absence.”

“If I’m wrong,” Astrid asked, thinking she understood, “let me know, but it doesn’t seem to me like there’s much of a reason for you to return at all. I mean, you’re setting up a life here, with us, and by the time we get to Klara‘s level, it will have been years since you were thrown out. There’s no real shortcut for the time needed to gain levels, and even though we’re progressing very quickly, every level will get harder and harder to reach. Will you still want to return after so long with friends, with me?”

“Yes. I must.”

Astrid had to fight to keep from immediately responding to Muti’s firm answer. Instead, she took three deep breaths, just enough to calm herself and keep from putting her foot in her mouth. Thankfully, she managed to not tell Muti why she was wrong, instead simply asking, “Why?”

“I was shamed for the Class I was given. I was one of the strongest among my litter, and was expected to be a Warrior. If not a Warrior, a Commander or an Assassin. There is not so much honor in being an Assassin as a Warrior, but it is an acceptable aspiration. Assassins can turn the tide of battle by executing key targets and I am not a leader of any kind. I wanted to be on the frontlines, to tear through my enemies, but I quickly saw I was cleverer than many of my litter. I could see things that they could not, and I exploited those openings, proving myself further. Those who would become Berserkers were too mindless, and I couldn’t relate to them while the Assassins lacked forethought. As such, I decided to settle upon allowing myself to become an Assassin, the best we’d ever had. It was what the Horde needed, and I would do what was necessary.

“For years, I trained with blades to learn how best to kill, but I knew it was necessary for an Assassin to see, to hear, to smell, and to know. When others dedicated themselves solely to understanding where to strike, I learned how and when to strike. Then, I was made a Rogue.” She skipped years in her story, unconcerned with them. Or, unwilling to relieve the effort wasted in getting what she wanted.

“I was immediately… chastised? I believe that is the word you would use. My Hordemaster was disappointed that the lion cub he raised became an antelope. I fought to prove myself as superior to an Assassin, and I could. At level 1. Even at level 2, though, those who I looked down on, but had gotten more favorable Classes, could outmaneuver and overpower me. To regain my honor, I challenged Laisall. I’d always been superior to him, but he was an Assassin. I lost the fight, and with it, my place among my Horde.”

Muti explained it all with a tone that suggested that she wasn’t bothered by it. Even so, her tight shoulders and unwillingness to look at Astrid told a different story. Astrid forced herself to her feet and walked over to sit behind Muti. There, she leaned her back against the Barbarian’s, and the movement was reciprocated as they leaned on each other.

“This scar—“ Muti’s voice caught as Astrid felt her stroke the long, thin scar that had been cut into her jawline, “this scar is a sign of my weakness and of my exile. If I want to return, I have to win two fights, at least. The first is against Laisall to show my original cause was just, and the second whoever the Hordemaster chooses. If he is satisfied after the second fight, I’ll be considered one of my people once more. If he decides that wasn’t enough, he can send another. And another. And another. Until he is satisfied that I am enough.”

“And if you lose?”

“I die.”

Muti’s emotions had already been loosened, and the whispered declaration made Astrid’s blood boil.

“Why do you want to be part of them again?” Astrid fought to modulate her tone from being too enraged. “They threw you away, they scarred you, and it seems like they hate you. If you’re ‘insufficent’ to them, they’ll kill you! Why return?”

“Is there anywhere else that would treat me better?”

Silence hung in the air after Muti asked it. Astrid’s immediate response was to say that obviously Muti was better treated here, but that was entirely false. She’d been treated as a monster by most people, even if the inhabitants of Kznietch now tolerated her presence. Even if they became a named party that was basically worshipped by the masses, Muti wouldn’t be seen as anything other than an unpleasant creature by the vast majority of Humanity, and Astrid had no idea what the other countries would do with a Barbarian refugee. The words stuck in her throat, and Astrid thought for a brief moment before reaching behind her with her right hand and padding Muti’s hip with it.

“I will.”

“If you let me sleep,“ Skandr grumbled as he sat up and plucked a stalk of grain before throwing it like a small arrow at the pair of women, “I will too.”

“We really shouldn’t have slept at all.“ Astrid disagreed as she finally decided to struggle to her feet while changing the subject. Her legs weren’t really injured, but she was so tired that if she continued sitting down, she knew she would stiffen up and hate moving at all for hours.

“Mana restores more quickly while you’re asleep.“ Skandr yawned as he stretched. “It’s really just me being responsible and making sure I’m ready to go soon.”

“Sure. And while you’re at it, you should probably responsibly gamble for a grimoire in the hopes that it might help you learn some spells.“

“Hey, we all know that I am bad with money! There’s a reason why I only get enough to feed myself.”

The old, tired conversation made its rounds, jabs about anger issues, poor hygiene, and gambling being exchanged by all three before they were interrupted.

“Does anybody understand the concept of getting real rest? You know, laying down and closing your eyes for a full eight hours, not talking or anything?” Benedict grumbled as he threw an arm over his still closed eyes.

Felix grumbled something unintelligible, but probably of the same opinion as the Bard without moving. Astrid smiled as she walked over and (mostly) gently kicked at Felix’s foot. As he stirred from his mostly asleep state, she turned her attention to Benedict and asked, “Do we want to see if there’s any special properties of this axe?”

That pulled the two still trying to get more sleep out of their stupor. Benedict pulled his arm from his eyes while Felix almost leapt to his feet. The Bodyguard grinned widely as he said, “Our devoted leader is right! It’s time to get up, come on, Benedict!!”

“You realize any one of us could do this by themselves, right?” Benedict seemed to come to a conclusion and threw his arm back over his eyes as he remained where he laid. Given that he’d exhausted his mana reserves by keeping everybody alive in the fight, Astrid decided not to push him too much. Instead, she shook her head and looked at the Bodyguard. 

“Sure, I’ll do the honors. Thanks for asking!“ He jumped in, excited to investigate what the Boss had left behind as soon as she locked eyes with him. Astrid waved her hand through the air dismissively, letting him go ahead with the investigation.

Felix leapt into action, his hand settling on the haft of the axe. As he picked it up, he swung it a couple times experimentally, tossed it up and caught it, then checked his Status. At least, that’s what Astrid was pretty sure he did, because after doing everything she could see, he laughed out loud before looking at the axe much more possessively.

“What does it give?“ Astrid asked, a faux disapproving hand on her hip.

“+3 to Power.“ Felix grasped the axe more tightly as he looked at the others. Astrid had a flash of a moment where she thought about using an axe instead of her hammer, but she quickly dismissed the thought. Not counting the fact that she didn’t have a skill for axes, but for blunt weapons, Astrid also didn’t feel the need to take the equipment away from the obviously excited Bodyguard when her own hammer still was holding up well after all she’d put it through. He still had an open Skill slot, and while his fighting and frontlining style wasn’t well suited to using a shield, if he trained a lot with any weapon, he could even gain a Bronze tier Skill for it at 11 or 16. Sure, the agile, dodging frontliner wasn’t what Astrid’s own thoughts of what an axe-wielding melee fighter would look like, but it would certainly work.

“We could sell it,” Astrid said, not deliberately trying to tease Felix, but doing so anyway as he involuntarily let his jaw hang open, “especially if we’re going to be sticking around to fight the Boss again tomorrow. It’d be another opportunity to see if the Dungeon rewards us better tomorrow. I know,“ Astrid interrupted Felix’s incoming interruption, “that the Dungeon typically rewards first clears more heavily than subsequent ones, but it’s possible that we could get a superior item. It’s doubtful, but possible.”

“I doubt any other thing that it gives would be better for me,” Felix squinted as he said as much, “and even though I know that Dungeon equipment tends to be less long-lasting than manufactured equipment is, I think this would be a great weapon for me to use to shift away from using my fists as my weapon. I’m not going to be a Pugilist, and I don’t think I’m ever going to get any Skills for my fistfighting. I don’t use my bare hands to fight nearly enough for it to be worth it for me to waste a Skill slot on anything like a fists Skill. So, having a stand-out weapon like this to be the one I’m training with and using? That would be immensely useful for me.”

“Slow down.” Astrid smiled as she spoke, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it, I’m just saying that we should look at what happens tomorrow. Beyond that, for the rest of our delve here on the fifth floor, I don’t want you to use the axe at all. Even if we end up keeping it, now’s not the time to learn how to use it. I know, it kind of sucks to be told no, but even as strong as you are, with your attributes and everything, with a weapon like an axe, it’s easier to get swung around by it than to swing it around. Even with how strong we get with levels, inertia exists. At higher levels, delvers who fight with weapons have to take Skills to ensure they’re not throwing themselves around with every one of their own attacks. If you fight against the Boss with an axe that you don’t know how to use, you’re gonna get somebody killed. If you want to train with it on the fourth floor or on the third floor, then I’m happy to let you do that. But as the party leader, I can’t let you take an unfamiliar weapon into a fight against the Boss. Clear?”

Felix smiled as he took his new weapon in his hand and took a couple of practice swings with it. As soon as he did so, Muti growled and walked towards him. Her blood still stained her armor and clothing underneath, though she’d mostly healed after the potion, and she lunged forward and grabbed the weapon out of his hand.

“If you will be using an axe, you will not be swinging it around like you are looking to cut down a tree.“ She immediately settled into a firm stance, about to explain to the overzealous Bodyguard how to make his movements deadly without over-extending himself, and Astrid interposed herself as well.

“We’re not going to have his first time really working with how to fight with an axe be when he’s half crippled from having his lights punched out and you’re still recovering from being shot seven times. Once we’re all back in fighting shape, we can get some instruction and then get onto the fourth floor. Clear?”

Muti growled at Astrid, her sharp, jagged teeth bared in threat. “Stop that.” Astrid flicked a pebble at her companion dismissively. “You know I’m right, and I’m not taking your position from you. I only know the bare basics of using an axe, and that’s not gonna change anytime soon. When you’re more recovered, you can teach him.”

Astrid stopped talking after that, just rolling her shoulders while making sure to keep her left wrist as straight as possible. It continued to throb in pain, and she was mentally counting the minutes until she could use Quick Recovery again. As the party settled and sat down, talking quietly among themselves, Benedict grumbled. “Looks like I’m not gonna be getting any more sleep right now.”

He settled into a comfortable sitting position while Astrid stood and began walking to collect trophies and equipment from the slain monsters. She knew that the higher watersheds usually tripled the value of each spoil and trophy, so they were looking at a valuable, if not outstanding haul. The rangers’ bows weren’t worth anything like the irregular’s bows were, so she left those and their arrows, though she took the knife and totem from the shaman as well as cutting the fangs and ears from each of the corpses left behind. Once she was done with that, Quick Recovery was ready to be used again and the icy relief of healing that perked her up and dulled the tenderness in her wrist to mere aches was a blessing. When Benedict finally recovered enough mana to then heal up the rest of the party, he did so, though he took it slow to keep himself from exhausting his mana completely once again. Finally, the party was ready to return to the fourth floor, where they could enact new slaughter on the monsters that’d had a day off so far.