The Pinnacle Warrior

Muti’s trip had been effective, getting to the other battlefield without issue and returning without any notable problems. In fact, the other army had been not quite a distraction, with enough fighters to be able to do some damage and still retreat, but evidently the Marchioness had sent the army to be outclassed by the army they were supposed to be facing. Just like the woman whose name Astrid hadn’t learned had said, the general level of the combatants that had come here was about what was expected, due to spying and Dungeoneer magic. Meanwhile, the other allied army had been furiously trying to defeat their enemies and come to Aaron’s army’s assistance before they were swarmed and taken prisoner.

The Barbarian took no small amount of joy in repeating the story to several of the leaders in the army as the Wanderers and prisoners followed the Duchess’s forces as they led the way forward.

“It is enjoyable to watch them as they stand so unsure of how to react to a Barbarian saving them,” Muti said as the last of the disbelieving soldiers wandered away.

“I have to admit, I agree,” Astrid smiled. She jogged along, the pace painfully slow as they were escorting people multiple tiers below them, and, most especially, the prisoners. Aaron, as the commander of the army, had been trusted with a spatial pouch large enough to hold two wagons. At least, the general, mostly prepared materials for them, and the equipment to quickly assemble them. Then, a few of the stronger, higher level Iron tier soldiers strapped themselves into the yokes and pulled the wagons along a road towards their destination.

The two wagons were filled with the weakest of the captured enemies, their mana cuffs chained along the sides to keep them from being able to resist in any notable fashion. Along the sides of the covered vehicles were chained several of the stronger prisoners, Iron tiers that didn’t have the physical strength to break through the cuffs. Then, carried along the shoulders of the Duchess’s soldiers who were physically strongest, were splayed the unconscious bodies of the strongest enemies. The Steel tiers weren’t permitted consciousness at all, a man named Silas Venomancer making constant patrols through the group to administer something that kept the prisoners unconscious.

It was a strange journey, all things considered. Watching the struggling Iron tiers fighting against their chains, their eyes glazed over and their blood running down their wrists from the furious, incessant yanking on their chains was sickening. The Marchioness had no mercy on them, her orders giving them no opportunity to even preserve themselves. Unwilling tears streaked down their faces as the dust slowly covered them, and they struggled incessantly as they half walked, half were dragged along.

Even so, despite the misery of their current situation, Astrid could only consider it to be a good turn of events for the prisoners. This way, they had the possibility of encountering freedom, even if it came at the end of a long, forced march. She continued repeating that to herself as she continued on their path.

“We’re marching through the night,” the command came down the line as sunset approached. By now, it was summer and the sunlight remained until much later. A few grumbling complaints went up at the announcement, but nobody slowed their pace. The thought of having to try to guard nearly as many prisoners as the army itself had was daunting, and if marching through the night would allow them to arrive early in the morning, as the plan anticipated, then it would be safer for everybody involved for them to do so.

As they walked, Astrid couldn’t help but compare herself to the people all around her. Yes, as a person an entire tier higher than even the strongest person around, there was no real comparison to be made, but she wasn’t that long out of Steel, or even Iron tier. A year ago, she was what, level 43? At that time, she was finishing the training with her parents, was it? Regardless of exactly what the timeline was, she remembered being the same level as most of the people around her, and what she’d been like was incomparable. Thinking of how much stronger she was then than the people who now surrounded her was strange.

For so long, she and her party had only had each other to compare themselves to. Well, that and the people in Neverwood, all of whom were at least a tier above the Wanderers themselves. Now, she could compare what her beginnings were to the people all around, to see what she was like compared to more ordinary people.

Rebecca had made no secret of the fact that her Class was an uncommon rarity and she was right around level 30. As such, her attribute total was about 600, and she gained 28 attribute points a level. In Iron, by contrast, Astrid had gained 49 every level, counting the extra three from Boon of the Hero. If Rebecca reached Astrid’s current level, 91, and gained a rare Class at Steel and Mithril, she would be gaining 64 attribute points a level. Astrid, currently, was getting 109. At that rate, even if that imaginary Rebecca then got an extraordinary rarity Class at the Adamantine tier, she wouldn’t be getting as many attribute points per level as Astrid was in Mithril, and she’d only be gaining 94 per level.

“This is very slow,” Muti said, her tone flat. “These people are all very weak.”

She didn’t hold back at all, her voice more than loud enough to carry to the people nearby. What little goodwill she’d won by, apparently, helping their fellow soldiers in a different battle was lost with those words. The people nearby bristled as they stared daggers at her. Astrid could swear she heard some actual growls somewhere as some of the soldiers seemed to be trying to muster the courage to argue back with the Barbarian.

“It’s not that they’re weak,” Felix said, jumping in faster than Astrid. “They aren’t delvers, and more than that, they aren’t people who’ve been fighting for their entire lives. These are people who volunteered to fight for their freedom. They’re brave.”

“I did not comment on their bravery,” Muti looked at him, affronted. “I can see their bravery. I also—”

“This is a reminder, Muti,” Astrid said, grateful she had her helmet on, so her faint smile wasn’t visible as she interrupted a conversation that she’d now gotten used to, “that what’s totally normal and acceptable among the Hordes is, at best, impolite around here. In this case, it’s insulting.”

“It is not an insult,” Muti made eye contact with Astrid through both of their helmets. “It is a statement. If there are any who wish to learn under my hand, they need only ask. I’m happy to teach any who may be curious about becoming more capable with wielding the blade, throwing weapons, or even using shadow to strengthen themselves. If those who are weak are unwilling to work to overcome their weakness, then they will remain weak and should be shamed for their unwillingness to improve themselves. If those who are weak will stretch themselves to become more than they are, they will become strong.”

Several of the people nearby still bristled at what she was saying. As always, Muti refused to soften her words, and what Astrid had taken years to get used to was now on full display to a bunch of people who didn’t feel a whole lot of patience towards her anyways.

“You’re willing to teach me how to teleport like you?” a man’s voice cut through the growing frustrations. When Astrid turned to see who it was who spoke, she saw it was the archer in Jan’s squad. What was his name again?

“Yes, of course,” Muti said, nodding. “I do not feel any particular affinity from you towards the shadow, though your mana is uncommonly strong for an Archer.”

“My name is George Archer, and my Class is the Spectral Archer Class,” he said by way of introduction. “I won’t hesitate to say that I looked into getting this Class, and getting some instruction on practical use of mana would be very valuable for me.”

As he spoke, Astrid could see the angry energy around slowly shift to something that was no longer outrightly unfriendly but instead hesitantly curious.

“You say you wish to step through the shadows. Is that your end goal? Or do you wish for a greater understanding of how to use shadow mana to strengthen your attacks or to hide yourself? Or, do you instead simply desire to teleport and nothing else?”

Immediately, Muti leaned into using her Shadow Teaching Skill. With her newest Steel tier Skill, Unerring Awareness, her Self-Mastery and Acumen had both been boosted by 75%, and the increase of both was valuable for her teaching. It did little more than that, but her realization that she could very easily be avoided due to her mental attributes had led to her willingness to take the Skill. In addition, she, like Felix and Astrid, had been offered a very narrow, relatively low tier pool of Skills.

Astrid could tell by George’s body language that he’d partially only started the conversation as a way to diffuse the tension filling the dozens of people nearby. Jan and the rest of his squad had stuck near Astrid and asked her and her party a handful of questions as they traveled. Now, as Muti earnestly and honestly gave pointed, effective instructions to George, Astrid saw as his attempt to calm frustrations quickly became a real learning opportunity for him.

She was reminded of how little she had understood about actually manipulating mana before she and the rest of the Wanderers had been tutored by the Golden Fist. Before that, she’d only been able to move the mana to strengthen herself or to activate a Skill, and the baseline of her being able to complete her latest evolutionary quest was established in that week with the Golden Fist and then strengthened in the weeks that followed under her mother and father’s instruction. Now, she was reminded that so few people actually received any sort of training on mana at all. All of these soldiers were people who had been pushed to level up as fast as possible, without any real instruction, other than, “get stronger as fast as you can or die.”

“The primary way in which you are currently using your mana is to summon your arrows,” Muti said once she’d gotten a breakdown of George’s starting point. He’d taken a less specific stance as she’d explained what better mana control could offer him, and he’d, instead of fixating on teleportation, welcomed any advice she had to give. “We will start with that, and when you have demonstrated a greater baseline understanding of adjusting your Skills, I will instruct you on specific results you wish to achieve. Even a small improvement in understanding how to apply your mana will result in large changes in your abilities.”

George nodded wordlessly as he deliberately summoned a variety of arrows. Muti coached him through each one, on how to focus on the specifics of each arrow and to reinforce it individually instead of just trusting the Skill to do everything. “When people said that I needed to move the mana specifically, I didn’t understand what they were saying. With this, though, I can feel how much of a difference a bit of practice with this will have in the end result. The only problem is going to be getting enough practice to the point that these more powerful arrows will be second nature instead of taking ten times as long to form.”

“Do not concern yourself overly with being able to incorporate any changes to your fighting style immediately,” Muti cautioned, her tone almost threatening it was so severe. “When you are battling, do what is fast and effective, not most powerful. A…” She trailed off, her face frustrated.

“I cannot think of this translation, allow me to attempt to say it in a way that will make sense to you. Your enemy will not give you any retries. Do not fight them expecting one.”

Looking at Muti, who had dismissed her helmet and her equipment through the course of her explanation, illustrating her points with flashes of her mana going up and down her arms, Astrid could see that her friend was pleased with the amended turn of phrase that she’d come up with.

“So… in a fight, focus on doing what I’m comfortable with and can still be deadly with instead of testing out things?” George ventured, attempting to apply what she said to his current situation.

“Exactly,” Muti nodded. “Now, I will push you to mentally create an arrow that is this same improved quality while taking only one second instead of four.”

“I don’t think that my mana will make it that long,” George cautioned. “I’m making progress, for sure, but I can’t say that I’m even a little bit confident with what I am doing right now.”

“If you are too weak willed to apply yourself, say so now,” Muti shrugged. “I will give you advice if you are strong willed. If not, you may languish in mediocrity.”

George’s face, which had been apologetic, flushed as he gritted his teeth and shook his head. “I’m not mediocre.”

“Prove it. I have given you the information required for success, now succeed.” Muti didn’t speak with him any further, turning away as he gritted his teeth. Instead of arguing further, George stretched a hand out and into his quiver, where an arrow started to form. About half a second passed before it was mostly formed and Muti reached out and slapped the back of his hand, the sound making a sharp crack through the air.

“This is worse than before,” she snapped. “You are better than this. Perform better than this. You have the makings of an Archer who would deal death with every draw of his bow, if you are not creating arrows that will shatter upon contact with even the weakest defense. Do not push yourself further than you are capable yet. Make steady steps towards perfection.”

George gritted his teeth, bearing them ever so slightly, though not at Muti. He took a calming breath and started again. This time, he seemed to be in better control of himself as he started summoning an arrow again. This time, nearly two seconds passed before he pulled it out. Muti started to reach out a hand, but he shook his head in disappointment as he dismissed the result, the mana threads holding the ammunition together disappearing.

Without a word, George set about, once again, forming an arrow. This time, he slowed down even further, and nearly three seconds passed before he pulled the arrow out. This time, he seemed a bit more satisfied with the results and placed it into the quiver.

“I can feel that this is generally more mana expensive than usual,” he said, stopping before getting back into his practicing. “Even if it makes me much deadlier, I won’t be able to have all of my arrows be made like this.”

“Of course not,” Muti shook her head. “You should purchase physical arrows and, when facing those who are unworthy, use only those materials which are of lesser value. If you are sending an arrow as a distraction, you need not spend your full force in the creation of the ammunition.”

George nodded slowly at that, pursing his lips as he seemed to think about doing what she had said. Then, without further conversation, he went back to practicing with his mana. Seeing his determination and focus, Muti turned away from him.

“Who is next?”

This time, three people stepped up into George’s place, each one asking for whatever advice she could or would give. Muti smiled widely at the possibility presenting itself to her. She accepted two Rogues and pushed the third, a Warrior or Knight of some sort, towards Astrid. Astrid too smiled as Rebecca came close to listen to whatever advice Astrid had. Astrid gestured for Rebecca to come closer as she began giving instructions.

Maybe the rest of this journey, even as they walked so slowly through the night, wouldn’t be so bad.

***

“Looks like we’ll make contact with Stahlstadt within the hour,” Skandr said as his pet cloud flew down from the air and wrapped around his neck. It was an hour after sunrise, and though Astrid and the Wanderers were fine, many of the weakest soldiers, and especially those whose Classes didn’t give them much in the way of Fortitude, were struggling, hard.

“That’s good,” Astrid grunted as she adjusted her hold on the captives on either shoulder. The Wanderers had started taking a more active role in the shepherding and caring for the prisoners only an hour or two after nightfall. Astrid, Felix, and Muti each carried at least two at a time, allowing the senior officers to get a little bit of a break. From there, they had integrated themselves into the general rotation, though the Wanderers took more than their “fair share,” which nobody complained about. In terms of pure physical attributes, even Skandr could compare to some of the weaker Steel tier people who’d been carrying prisoners.

“Do you think they have beds?” Benedict asked wistfully.

“Somewhere,” Astrid shrugged. “However, I know my hometown isn’t made for actually housing so many people. I don’t know what kinds of actions the Duchess has taken to keep as many people housed, clothed, and fed as possible, but, if nothing else, I’m sure we can find somewhere with beds to sleep in sometimes.”

“I suppose I can just sleep and dream of Michel’s rooms and food,” Benedict smiled as he shifted his position and continued to try to play the flute with just one hand while steadying his prisoner with the other.

“Someone’s approaching,” the call of warning went up and down the line. Astrid turned her attention away from her party to look to where the shout was coming from and saw a small squad of maybe a dozen people running towards the army, coming from Stahlstadt. They were moving fast enough that they were either high leveled Iron tier people with good quality Classes or Steel tiers. Then, as they grew closer, Astrid realized that she recognized the suit of armor belonging to the person who appeared to be in charge of the squad.

“It’s Burning Brighid!” a couple voices called out, their excitement palpable as Astrid’s mother looked to relieve some of the other people in the column. Aaron came forward, a prisoner of his own over his shoulders as he saluted awkwardly.

“Aaron, tell me, how was it?” Brighid demanded, looking up and down the column. “It seems like your mission was quite successful.”

“We were successful, ma’am,” he confirmed. “However, that was only because of the assistance of this party of adventurers who call themselves the Wanderers. They are under the command of—”

Brighid didn’t wait to continue to hear his report as Astrid cursed her own idiocy. Brighid’s eyes flashed directly towards Astrid herself and Muti beside her, immediately recognizing her daughter for who she was. Why hadn’t Astrid mentioned her mother? She already knew that Brighid was serving on the side of the Duchess, even if she wasn’t in command, she was surely enough to have heard of.

“Why are you here?” Brighid asked as she dismissed her helmet. “We didn’t want you to come, wasn’t that pretty obvious in the letter?”

Astrid chuckled as she unceremoniously dropped her two captives to the ground and dismissed her own helmet. Then, with a sigh of relaxation as she fell into an embrace, she whispered, “I’m home, Mom.”