12 Chapter 12, Path Forward

"Bwa ha ha!" Basilio roared, slapping me on the back. "You sure know how to grab the troll by the balls, don'tcha Huntsman!"

My friends and I ended up drifting into the West-Khan's territory. The Feroxi guards stationed at Longfort were startled to report they'd seen a dragon flying into their lands, so Basilio personally rode out while leading an army to confront the creature and uncover its intentions. Imagine his surprise when he saw Nowi's passengers. The Khan instantly offered to share his hearth with us at his castle, promising warm beds, soapy baths, and good booze.

How could we say no?

Oh, and it turned out Basilio and Gregor knew each other, as they greeted and talked to one another like old friends.

When we got to Basilio's fortified home, we all took a long bath, ate whatever we could get our hands on, and promptly absconded to our assigned rooms and fell asleep.

I woke up the following morning, the message [HIT POINTS: 47 / 47] promptly displayed over my face.

Basilio kicked down the door the instant he heard I was up and ordered his staff to haul in as much food and drink as they could carry. Once the table was set, I got busy shoveling bacon, ham, bread, and eggs into my mouth. Ah, sweet glorious protein, how I missed you so!

"Still, sneaking into an enemy kingdom all for the sake of a girl! She must be one hell of a woman! She that great in bed?" Basilio asked, waggling his eyebrows.

I somehow conveyed my stony glare despite my Keaton Mask. "She's my friend."

"And I usually take my friends out for drinks, not invade cultist ridden nations so I can find their piss-drinking fathers and put an arrow in their arse."

"She's my best friend."

"Does the poor girl know you've tossed her into the bottomless zone of eternal friendship?"

I shut Basilio up the Khan-way. I Traced a sword overhead, blunted it with [Alteration], and fired the dull blade at the one-eyed oaf's face. Basilio swore as he barely yanked his shiny bald head out of the way.

"Well that's a new trick!" Basilio chortled, observing the iron sword impaled in his chair's headrest before I made it fade away. None of the servants in attendance so much as blinked from my impromptu attack on their Khan; some were even suppressing chuckles. "But in all seriousness," he said, retaking his seat, "these Deadlords you mentioned sound like trouble, especially if they damn near tanned your hide. How strong would you say they are?"

"At least as strong as you and Flavia," I answered through a mouthful of bacon.

Basilio became uncharacteristically grim. "And they've 12 of these things on a leash? All of which are armed with weapons from the time of legends? Sheesh," the West-Khan rubbed his brow, "our spies were writing some damn ugly reports, but none covered this."

"10," I corrected. "They've only got 10 left, since I destroyed two."

The Khan's lone eye widened, before a challenging smile stretched his lips. "You saying you beat two enemies as strong as Khans? Them be fighting words, boy."

I met his grin with my own. "Careful. You might throw out your back, old man."

Basilio's brow twitched. "Oh ho, now you're just asking for it, whelp."

Our friendly banter was interrupted when we heard footsteps racing down the warm hallways, their owner soon bursting into my resting quarters.

It was none other than Lon'qu. The boy I'd met four years ago was now a young man, sporting muscles that could've only been earned through rigorous training and a subtle confidence forged by the hammer of combat and anvil of victory.

NAME: Lon'qu, the Pursuer of Strength

AGE: 17

CLASS: Myrmidon

LEVEL: 13

EXP: 86 / 100

HIT POINTS: 28 / 28

STRENGTH:12

MAGIC: 0

SKILL: 19

SPEED: 18

LUCK: 15

DEFENSE: 10

RESISTANCE: 4

STATUS: Delighted, Excited, Eager

"Huntsman! Fight me!" Lon'qu shouted earnestly, the hand squeezing his sheathed sword trembling in anticipation.

"Hello to you too," I chuckled while using [Structural Analysis] on his weapon.

[Steel Katana, Rank: C]

A single-edged blade forged in the lands of Chon'sin. Their unique smithing techniques result in a blade of folded metal that is superior to its counterpart, the steel sword.

Might: 9

Hit Rate: 85%

Critical: 0%

Durability: 39/40

Magic Cost: 1

[<Steel Katana, Rank: C> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]

"You know, those are almost the exact same words you said when you first met me," I said, smiling lightly in reminiscence. "Guess some things never change."

"Ah." A light blush dusted Lon'qu's cheeks. "My apologies." He gave a small bow. "In my excitement, I have abandoned decorum. But you are wrong: not everything has remained the same. I am stronger now, and wish to uphold the vow we made years ago: a match, your mettle against mine."

"Sure, after him," I said, pointing a thumb at Basilio. "This geezer's been slacking so much he's getting flabby around the edges." The West-Khan's hands edged towards his waist to see if this was true.

A small smile graced Lon'qu's lips. "A worthy battle, one I shall witness without neglecting the smallest detail. Khan Basilio," he tilted his head to the Khan, "I shall sharpen my spirit at the ring."

He left without another word, striding with the poise of a samurai.

"He's gotten stronger," I said, feeling oddly proud of the kid.

"No surprise there!" Basilio laughed. "All he does is train, fight, eat, sleep, then train some more! I've tried to get the kid to relax a little, but the hardheaded twerp's got a goal he's running towards at full speed." He gave me a knowing look.

"Me?"

"You," he confirmed. "Far as Lon'qu's aware you're the strongest warrior he knows, the peak he seeks to surpass."

"He thinks I'm stronger than you?" I asked, grinning.

Basilio scowled. "Only because he's never seen you fight me, runt! Almost sorry I've got to break his delusions, but needs must and all that rag."

Four years ago, I would've balked at the idea of sparring with the West-Khan. Now? There was only excitement.

"Still, aren't you glad you took him in?" I asked, finished off the rest of my breakfast. "You're still the regnant Khan, so he must've won you the last Grand Tournament."

"That he did!" Basilio guffawed, slapping his knee. "Trashed Flavia's champion in a single move, then left without a word! Destroyed the poor sod's body and spirit! Flavia's still kicking herself over not finding the kid first!" After he enjoyed his bout of glee, Basilio stood up. "Do believe it's time for me to find and dust off my sweet Heartbreaker. I'd better see you in the ring in an hour, Huntsman, or I'll gather a search party to find and drag you there."

"Believe me, Basilio: I've no intention of missing this." After the death match was narrowly escaped from with our lives, I was looking forward to simply testing my new limits with a friendly spar.

"Well said," Basilio said with a massive grin. He left with his attendants shuffling after him, while the servants picked up my empty plates and carried them away to be washed.

Alone (and wondering how often the Khan's people needed to fix the doors he kicked down), I turned my attention to the SYSTEM. Destroying Anguilla, Aversa's Dark Knight Deadlord, gave me the EXP I needed to reach Level 15, and the reward that came with it.

[Ding!]

[Congratulations! You've successfully reached your third milestone! The SYSTEM will now bequeath you a reward for your continuous hard work!]

[Please select <Option #1> or <Options #2>]

[Option #1: receive THREE gifts of your choice from across the Legend of Zelda series!]

[Option #2: receive FIVE randomized gifts from across the Legend of Zelda series!]

I didn't even bother glancing at [Option #2], because I already knew what I wanted: a reliable shield. At the moment, I was torn between two decisions: the indestructible Hylian Shield from Skyward Sword, or the Mirror Shield from Ocarina of Time. The Hylian Shield was imbued with great power to make it impossible to destroy, while the Mirror Shield could absorb and reflect magic. Both were great, but which was better?

Wait, why limit myself to one when I could simply ask for both?

"Option 1."

[Ding!]

[<Option #1> selected! Please choose your desired gifts!]

"The Hylian Shield from Skyward Sword."

There was a flash of light, and the iconic heater shield appeared in my hands. Its rim was reinforced with steel that shone like pearls, while its body was colored a deep blue. On its center, it bore the symbol of the Triforce—three golden triangles joined together to form a greater whole—and the crimson Hylian crest: a stylized Loftwing. I couldn't contain the nostalgia bursting from my heart, as the Hylian Shield felt at home in my hands.

[Hylian Shield, Rank: S]

A shield once under the care of the Thunder Dragon Lanayru and infused with the heroic power of old, rendering it indestructible.

Protection: 100

Durability: ∞

Magic Cost: 3

[<Hylian Shield, Rank: S> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]

I brushed my fingers across its smooth surface, marveling in its design. It had a bit of weight to it, but nothing I couldn't carry with ease.

[Ding!]

[Please chose your second desired gift!]

"The Mirror Shield from Ocarina of Time," I said, reverently placing the Hylian Shield on the table.

Another flash, and another dimensional delivery from the SYSTEM. The Mirror Shield was roughly the same size as the Hylian Shield, but hexagonal in shape. Its rim was red like a ruby's, while its surface was polished metal so reflective it was basically … well, a mirror. Embossed in its center was the symbol of the Gerudos.

[Mirror Shield, Rank: A]

A sacred treasure of the Gerudos, the all-female desert pirates of Hyrule. Its unique enchantments allow it to absorb magic and store it within itself. Once enough energy has been amassed, the Mirror Shield will release a concentrated burst of magic in the direction its facing.

Protection: 50

Durability: 100/100

Magic Cost: 3

[<Mirror Shield, Rank: A> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]

Judging from its durability, the Mirror Shield could be broken if I wasn't careful. Definitely something to look out for.

[Ding!]

[Please chose your third desired gift!]

Oh yeah, I could pick 3 things instead of 2 this time. Honestly, I didn't know what to choose. Another shield? Seemed a bit wasteful, with the Hylian Shield and Mirror Shield covering my bases. Was there anything I absolutely needed at the moment?

You know what? I didn't care. I was pointlessly worrying myself over what I needed. How about what I wanted?

I smiled beneath my Keaton Mask as I thought of just the thing.

~

Basilio's sparring ring was a large indoor arena that made up a fourth of his castle. Amply lit by early morning sunlight, the floor was covered in a layer of packed dirt while racks upon racks of weapons lined the walls, ranging from wooden practice swords to used steel axes.

It was far from empty when I arrived, with visiting mercenaries testing their mettle against soldiers who wanted to keep their skills sharp. Sometimes young men and women gathered from nearby cities and settlements, seeking employment by impressing their Khan with their abilities. As it was, a hush fell over the arena when I entered, led in by a servant. If I thought my fame as the Huntsman would wane with time, I was evidently mistaken as looks of recognition flashed on nearly everyone's faces, yet unlike in Ylisse much of the admiration here was also accompanied by the fierce yearning to cross blades with the fabled Huntsman.

"Huntsman." Lon'qu approached me. Although he was trying to keep his expression neutral, his lips were curving upward ever so slightly.

"Is he here?" I asked, searching for my opponent.

"He is now!" Basilio boomed as he waltzed in, accompanied by two fierce looking guards and a large customized silver axe that was slung over his shoulder. "You ready for the fight of your life, runt?"

"I doubt you'll be that much of a challenge," I teased.

Basilio's one eye narrowed. "Someone's been getting cocky in my absence. Guess it's up to Basilio to set that right. Get your arse in the ring."

I chuckled, but walked to the center of the sparring ring alongside the West-Khan. Everyone hurriedly backed away to give us as much room as we'd need, with many taking bets on who'd win. From what I could overhear, things were 7:3 in Basilio's favor.

Basilio and I stood several feet apart from one another, at a dueler's range. The West-Khan readied Heartbreak, which was about 60% larger than the standard silver axe, and said, "Whenever you're ready, Huntsman."

"Hold!" Out of nowhere, Khan Flavia marched into Basilio's arena with a contingent of her own men. The fighters of the West and East Klan glared at one another in an almost familial rivalry.

"Ogre's teeth! What're you doing here?" Basilio demanded.

"I'm here because you invited me to discuss matters pertaining to our southern neighbors," Flavia scoffed, her greatsword, Arbiter, at hand.

Basilio looked sheepish. "Uh, I'd actually forgotten."

"It's alright," Flavia said kindly as she boldly strode into the sparring ring. "Everyone knows memory is the first to go with men your age." Basilio growled. "Besides, I can see you've been entertaining a most distinguished guest." She turned to me, her smile showing all her teeth. "Huntsman, it's good to see you on Regna Ferox's lands again."

"Glad to be here," I returned. "Need something?"

"Yes: spar with me!"

"What is it with everyone wanting to fight me today?"

Flavia laughed. "It's the Feroxi way!"

"Keep your evil fingers away from my champion, witch!" Basilio said, unamused.

"I see your dementia has progressed! Sad of you to forget the name of your current champion!"

"I challenged him first!"

"And forgot entirely about your meeting with me!"

Geez, I've seen cats and dogs squabble less than these two.

"I'm the regnant Khan! I could order you to leave!" Basilio growled.

Flavia glared back with equal intensity. "Yes, you could."

Sparks nearly flew between the two as they tried to cut one another down with their gazes alone. I half expected them to start brawling and drag their soldiers into the resulting chaos.

Instead, Basilio groaned, "Fine, fine! Never let it be said Basilio didn't have a big heart." His one eye glanced to me. "What say you, Huntsman?"

"Fine by me," I shrugged.

"Excellent!" Flavia cheered, muscling Basilio out of the way as she took his spot across from me. "Get lost, oaf."

"Bah! Not even a 'thank you'. Shame on me for expecting manners from the evil crone of the east," Basilio grumbled.

"I'll 'thank' you by not reminding everyone how many war councils you've missed, meetings you arranged!"

"Everyone's in for a treat tonight!" Basilio shouted to our audience, trying to drown out Flavia's painful remainder. "The Huntsman against our very own East-Khan! Make sure your eyes are peeled, because this is a fight no one should miss!"

As a boundary was established, Flavia said, "I've been looking forward to this day, Huntsman."

"This about me beating Priam? How is he by the way?" I asked.

"Fine, I believe. Last I heard, he took a ship to Valm, the continent across the ocean to our west. We do a bit of trading with a few of their countries, such as Chon'sin." I'm guessing that's how Lon'qu got his hands on another katana. "And you're right: I haven't slept a single night without seeing your mask in my dreams, not since the day you aided that oaf in dethroning me."

"Feeling vengeful?"

Flavia scoffed. "Hardly. Your duel with Priam was above reproach. No, it's your fight that plagues my unconscious hours, a bout that deserves its place in song and legend. How could I rest easy knowing I let such an incredible warrior slip past me without challenging them myself?"

"Well, you're in luck," I said, stretching my arms, "because I've been looking forward to fighting a Khan today."

I didn't know Flavia's grin could get any hungrier, but it did. "That's what I want to hear, Huntsman." She readied Arbiter. "Are you prepared?"

I brought out the Hylian Shield from the Inventory, fastening it to my right arm. As for a weapon, I Traced a simple silver sword.

"Ready."

Flavia eyed my shield, as if she were trying to discern where the design originated from. "A shield? Interesting choice. Copying someone else's style again?"

"No," I said, bracing my stance. "Using my own."

There was nothing more to say; now was the time for combat.

Flavia kicked things off, swinging Arbiter with both hands in a horizontal arch. I intercepted with my Hylian Shield, stopping the greatsword cold with nary a flinch. Shock flitted through the East-Khan for an instant before she quashed it with a smile and struck again. Left, right, up, down; she attacked from a variety of angles, and every one was repelled by my impenetrable defense.

~

It'd been a long time since Flavia felt such awe. Her first few strikes were to test the waters, gauge the Huntsman's reaction, yet everything she threw was outright stopped by his blue aegis. Soon, she ceased holding back entirely as she swung Arbiter with the force to fell trees in a single blow, yet the result never changed. The Huntsman's defense was impenetrable, his eyes doubtlessly watching her every move beneath that mask of his. Not even feints worked, as he saw through every single one with but a glance. And why wouldn't he, when he knew her fighting style inside and out?

Then the flow of battle shifted.

~

Hunkering down and weathering everything my opponent threw at me was one way to use a shield, but definitely not everything. While Flavia wasn't the strongest I'd faced, not anymore, I wasn't going to win by turtling up. It was time to take the offensive.

I'd remained as stationary as a fortress when the spar began, but not anymore. Now, I took a single step forward, voluntarily entering Flavia's zone of control. This time, instead of waiting for her attack to come to me, I intercepted it with my Hylian Shield while it was in mid-swing, shutting her strike down before it could ramp up to full force.

And I kept at it.

With every forward step I took, I pushed Flavia one step back. I saw the intense concentration making her brow furrow, her darting eyes searching for an opening to seize yet finding none. When she positioned Arbiter for a forward thrust, seeking to shove me away, I went on the offense.

When her greatsword's tip met the surface of my Hylian Shield, I parried, swinging my shield and smashing Flavia's weapon aside; this left her wide open. I could've retaliated with my sword, but chose not to. Instead, I stepped forward, pirouetted, and slammed a back kick into her stomach.

Her armor blunted most of the damage, but still elicited a pained grunt from the Khan as she was knocked away. Nevertheless, she rolled with the hit, landing on one hand before back-flipping onto her feet.

I charged her down, always keeping my Hylian Shield between myself and Flavia. Gritting her teeth, the East-Khan kept her distance, knowing a frontal assault was doomed to fail against me. Still, her greatsword was longer than my silver sword, allowing her to attack me from outside my range, though nothing got past my shield. She was nimble, always keeping me at a set distance no matter how hard I tried to close in. Her base speed was higher than mine, but I didn't bother with [Reinforcement].

I knew I'd win if I used it; easily. That, plus Balmung? It wouldn't be a contest. I didn't want that. I wasn't here to crush Flavia in a match of numbers and stats, but see how far my sword-and-shield style could take me against a Khan of Regna Ferox.

So I stopped chasing her aimlessly. Instead, I began heading her off. While she was faster, by managing where I positioned myself I could effectively control which direction she fled in. Our spectators hurried out of the way when we nearest the arena's walls, and that's when Flavia grasped what I was doing, right as I corralled her into a corner.

With her trapped, I rushed in shield first.

Flavia wasn't worried. Instead, she grinned as she kicked off the wall and leapt high into the air. Was she trying to jump over me? No, she was holding Arbiter with both hands as she performed a forward flip while slashing downwards at me with all her might!

She copied my Helm Splitter!

Not bad, except I knew exactly how that technique worked!

I protected my head with my Hylian Shield, feeling it shudder as Flavia's Arbiter slashed across its surface. Then, right as the East-Khan was landing behind me, I spun around and closed the gap in a single step. I was too close for her to evade, so her focus snapped to my silver sword as I brandished it for an attack.

It was a feint; I punched the rim of my indestructible Hylian Shield against her not-so-impervious chest plate, denting the metal inward. Flavia gasped as her own ruined armor constricted her breathing, restricting it to short gasps.

An ordinary person would've surrendered; Flavia was not. Instead, she marshaled all her strength as she committed herself to a final assault. She instinctively knew her carelessness cost her the match, so she chose to lose on her own terms: to go down fighting. Taking the deepest breath she could manage, Flavia went all-out on her assault against me.

I didn't turtle up, respecting her decision and choosing to meet her head-on. My silver sword screamed against her Arbiter, chips of the blade falling off its fracturing edge as it went up against a superior weapon. Inevitably, it broke in half, causing the Projection to fade.

Flavia's face, slowly turning blue from a lack of air, lit up when she thought she still had a chance to turn things around; she didn't. Her fully-committed overhead slash was parried by my Hylian Shield, nearly knocking it out of her hands. Seizing the moment, I grabbed Flavia by the wrist and threw her over my shoulder, slamming her against the arena's dirt ground. In case she still had some fight left in her, I raised my Hylian Shield, preparing to slam it down and end this match.

There was no need.

[+10 to EXP!]

Flavia's limbs were splayed out around her, her slackened grip releasing Arbiter in a show of defeat. Her expression was still pained as she struggled to inhale freely, so I used [Alteration] on her armor to even out the dent and restore it to pristine condition.

The Khan blinked, a flicker of surprise when she noticed her breaths came easily.

"A new trick?" she asked, taking in lungfuls of air.

"Something like that," I said, offering a hand.

She accepted, and I pulled her to her feet.

Around us, our spectators were stunned into silence. They'd known the Huntsman was powerful, as many witnessed my champion's duel with Priam, yet very few truly expected me to emerge from a match with a Khan—one of their greatest warriors—victorious.

Except Lon'qu. He was looking rather smug as he collected his winnings from his stupefied compatriots.

"Troll's toes, Flavia," Basilio murmured as he approached us, his lone eye watching me with renewed respect. "Don't you think you were holding back a bit too much against the kid?"

Flavia didn't hesitate to sock her fellow Khan in the gut, making him double over. "You know I did no such thing, oaf. Do not lessen the Huntsman's feat with your buffoonery."

"Sorry, sorry, bad joke," Basilio wheezed, massaging his bruised abs. "I'll admit, kid, I didn't think you'd actually win."

"No faith in your former champion?" I asked jokingly.

"Hey, I'd plenty of faith! Just didn't think there was anyone besides me that could put this witch in her place!" Basilio laughed.

Flavia wanted to retort, but winced when her injuries flared up.

"Need healing?" I offered, Tracing a Heal stave.

She shook her head. "I'm no toddler that requires magical aid for every split hair. I much prefer to let these marks heal the natural way, but I appreciate the offer."

"You do you," I said, undoing the Projection. Then I asked Basilio, "So, you next old man?"

Basilio laughed. "Looking to add another Khan to your belt? You've gotten greedy, Huntsman! I like it! But don't think your strategy against Flavia will work on Basilio!"

"Of course not, you're an entirely different type of fighter, and it's the variety that makes things interesting."

"Well said! But it looks like someone else is getting impatient to face you." Basilio pointed to Lon'qu, who'd finished gathering his winning and handed them off to a servant to look after. Now he was entering the ring, almost vibrating in impatience and anticipation.

"Khan Basilio, I humbly ask to take this match," Lon'qu requested.

"Granted! Show him what you've got!" Basilio said, giving his champion an encouraging pat on the shoulder before helping Flavia move out of the ring. Surprisingly kind of him, especially given how they usually act around one another.

Our spectators were abuzz with excitement once more: Khan Basilio's champion versus the Huntsman. More bets were made, yet it was clear barely anyone believed Lon'qu would be walking away with a win.

Not even Lon'qu himself. I could see it in his determined eyes. While he would give this match his all, his goal wasn't victory; it was to show me how far he'd come since we last fought 4 years ago.

I placed my Hylian Shield in the Inventory, then Traced a steel sword.

Lon'qu made no comment about my change in approach, drawing his katana soundlessly from its sheath and holding it at the ready.

We faced each other, unmoving.

A minute passed, and neither of us so much as twitched.

Then Lon'qu darted forward, his katana aiming for my throat. I leaned aside and dodged, but Lon'qu anticipated this and executed a series of concise strikes all aimed at my vitals. Unable to avoid them all, I raised my sword to block his beheading cut.

"Much faster," I noted, comparing his movements to the old him.

Lon'qu pressed on, using both hands to increase the pressure. While my sword didn't budge, I felt the strength he was exerting.

"Stronger, too."

He disengaged, retreating a step while simultaneously performing a vertical slash to prevent me from giving immediate pursuit. He then took a fortifying breath before committing himself to his offensive. His form was wonderful, cultivated through hours upon hours of yearly practice, allowing him to perform one cut after another all while remaining light on his feet, letting him swerve and sway around my counter attacks while performing his own.

Lon'qu even succeeded in catching me off guard once. He was aiming his katana at my stomach, and I positioned my steel sword to block it. Except when he fully swung his arm, the attack never came. He'd released his katana mid-swing, faking me out, before snatching his weapon out of the air with his other hand and slashing my face. I only managed to lean out of harm's way thanks to Bullet Time, but despite it the tip of Lon'qu's katana triumphantly scraped against the cheek of my Keaton Mask.

I wondered why I didn't see this technique when reading his katana's history earlier with [Structural Analysis], as it wasn't something anyone could pull off without dedicated practice. After a second of consideration, I think I knew why: because it was a trick Lon'qu mastered while using an entirely different weapon. He was familiar with my [Structural Analysis] and came up with his own way to fool it.

And his diligence paid off, allowing him to land a hit on me.

"Nicely done."

But he wasn't done yet. He withdrew, putting several yards between us, and sheathed his katana. Then he widened his stance, coiling his body in preparation for a single strike.

I recognized the move he was preparing.

He burst into motion, flying towards me like a crossbow bolt in flight, and I readied myself. The instant I was in range, his right hand latched onto his katana's handle and pulled it free in one explosive motion; a beautifully executed battōjutsu. His quick draw was accelerated by his running start, vastly exceeding the one I'd demonstrated to him so long ago.

I needed Bullet Time to see Lon'qu's katana in motion, and I watched the masterful arch it flowed in, a move only possible with blood and sweat spilled from endless determination. I noticed he wasn't aiming at me, but my sword … a sword that had a deep divot near the base. Crafty punk, he'd been continuously hitting the exact same spot on my sword, weakening it bit by bit. Now he was going for the finishing stroke.

I could've countered or avoided this a number of ways, but didn't.

Lon'qu deserved this.

So I watched as Lon'qu broke my sword in two, reducing it to particles of magic.

"Magnificent," I sincerely praised.

Lon'qu kept his game face on, but I could tell my approval made him swell with pride.

I think it was safe to assume the young man before me was stronger than the Lon'qu who joined the Shepards near the start of the game. It was nice to see a positive change occur due to my mucking about, as his admiration towards me pushed him to greater heights.

And he still had room to grow; room to become much, much stronger.

Basilio said I was Lon'qu's goal, the summit he wanted to climb and surpass. The higher the peak, the further he would push himself to reach it.

In that case, I'd best show him he had a hell of a way to go.

"It's time for a lesson," I announced, and brought out Balmung.

Lon'qu's tension skyrocketed. His light sheen of perspiration, wrought from mild exertion, became a deluge of nervous sweat. He was anxious, overwhelmingly so. I didn't accidentally trigger some sort of trauma, did I? Even if I did, Lon'qu took his unease and wrestled it into anticipation.

"I await your instructions," he said, katana at the ready.

I had a myriad of ways of defeating Lon'qu. I could've gone back to the sword and shield, taken advantage of his lacking resistance with magic, bombarded him with a Full Barrage, or simply overpowered him with [Reinforcement]. So I chose the means of victory that would best motivate Lon'qu: by demonstrating what could be accomplished by a true master of the sword.

And who better than the man given the title of Sword Saint: Crusader Od.

I harmonized with Od's echo, lingering deep within Balmung's saga, and allowed the Sword Saint to walk this world once again. Balmung, which felt familiar in my palm thanks to [Structural Analysis], became more; an extension of our limb, a part of our very being. Our stance shift in a dozen minute ways, all to bring out Balmung's true potential.

Then we moved, a combination of speed and first-rate footwork allowing us to fly beneath a frozen sky. Our talon made for the boy's heart, and was hastily blocked by the child's immature fang. A paltry hindrance, as our assault continued unabated. Our every movement was minimized to the height of efficiency, refined to conserve energy as Balmung dealt nothing but death blows, its every bite focused solely on our opponent's vital areas.

For we were a Crusade of the revolution, fighting for justice against the tyrannical Loptrian Empire's endless armies. Our skill was honed by the blood of hundreds, so that we could fell tens of thousands more on the battlefield.

But not today. Today, we were merely imparting a lesson.

Our bout had last for but 12 moves, yet the boy was already beaten. His undeveloped claws could not withstand our tempered ferocity. We restrained ourselves greatly, yet the child was bleeding from 12 separate wounds; each would've ended the boy had they been but a hair's breadth deeper.

Yet while his body was defeated, his spirit refused to yield.

Admirable. We've known lesser men who would've fallen to our first four attacks.

I suggested a technique to end this match, one that made Od's echo quirk a brow in interest. It was a ridiculous move I could've never pulled off with my current level of swordsmanship, nor could Od have performed it with his own physical limitations.

But together, the possibilities were endless.

We agreed, and I felt Od's ethereal blood roar in excitement.

I activated Full [Reinforcement]. The golden magic from my circuits and the scarlet aura of Balmung became as one.

The boy, realizing we were up to something, raised his cracked katana as he readied himself for our offense.

Nothing he could've done would've prepared him for this.

Utilizing our superhuman skill and speed to their fullest, we executed not one, not two, but nine consecutive attacks so swiftly they practically took place simultaneously. Nine strikes, all capable of dealing a mortal blow. Even if our opponent blocked/avoided one strike, nothing would save them from the other eight.

We held back, greatly.

The boy was given nine additional nicks, cuts so small they weren't even bleeding. Yet all who witnessed knew if we had followed through with any of the attacks, the child would've perished before his corpse hit the floor.

I almost staggered as I let Od's satisfied echo fade away, allowing myself to regain full control over my body. Ugh, that was disorienting, and the fresh headache's not helping either! I hadn't known I could take [Structural Analysis] so far, but it wasn't something I was eager to try again. It reminded me too much of the time I lost myself as the Fierce Deity. If I'd kept going, kept sinking into Balmung's history, could something similar have happened?

Let's not think about it too much.

I shut down my [Reinforcement] and stashed Balmung in my Inventory.

"W-What … was that?" Lon'qu rasped. Oof, Od and I sure did a number on him. His katana's edge was so chipped it would've made a better saw, and he was bleeding profusely from at least a dozen different wounds.

I Traced a Heal stave and mended the worst of his injuries. "The Nine-Headed Dragon." At least I think that's what it was called from the manga I shamelessly borrowed it from. All I really wanted was to see if Od and I could pull it off, and we did! "Nine strikes all aimed to inflict mortal wounds."

"Nine … I barely saw the one," Lon'qu murmured. "When did you perfect such a skill?"

I scratched my head awkwardly. "This is actually my first time using it."

Lon'qu stared at me, searching for a hint of deception; he found none. In the end, he couldn't help but laugh. "The first time?"

"I guess fighting you again inspired me."

"I see the mountain has grown ever taller. My journey might very well be an endless one," Lon'qu sighed, before his eyes blazed in resolution, "but I would have it no other way."

"Glad to hear it. I was worried I might've gone a bit too far."

"Hmph. I am not so weak that this would cow me."

"Guardian!" Robin, awake and well, entered the training arena. She was smiling brightly as she wiggled around our spectators to jog over towards us.

"HRK!" Lon'qu's reaction was instantaneous, paling until his skin was white as snow while backpedaling so fast it looked like he'd used Warp magic.

Robin eyed the female-fearing swordsman curiously. "Erm, did I say something?"

"He has personal issues with the fairer sex," I assured her, then asked Lon'qu, "Seriously, what're you going to do if Flavia's next champion is a woman?"

"T-The heat of life-or-death battles suppresses the fear, if only momentarily," Lon'qu said, still glaring at Robin while ensuring there were 20 paces of distance between them. "I must be off. I thank you for your lesson, Huntsman. It was most instructive."

He basically fled, giving a wide berth to the other female soldiers and mercenaries as he ran. I suppose they were more familiar with Lon'qu's gynophobia and respected him enough to give him the space he needed.

Hope he remembered to get the rest of his injuries treated first.

"Sleep well?" I asked my friend.

"Like the dead," Robin said.

"And how're you doing?"

"I'm … I'm good, actually. No, really," Robin promised. "I haven't felt this light in ages." That was wonderful to hear. "Can we … talk? Not here, but elsewhere. Just the two of us."

I glanced around, and saw Robin was attracting a bit of attention. Many were wondering who the Huntsman's companion was, and how skilled she was in combat.

"Sure, I think we can find a quiet spot somewhere," I said, searching for Basilio so I could reschedule our bout. Oddly enough, I couldn't find him. Did he already leave? "Any chance you've seen a one-eyed man on your way here?"

"Bald, and built like a berserker?" Robin asked, and I nodded. "I did. I think he was carrying someone to the infirmary." I noticed Flavia wasn't here either. Where'd those two disappear to? Well, I'd find out later, as right now Robin deserved my full attention.

~

Flavia groaned as she settled into a chair in the oaf's personal sickroom. Her guards were worried for her, but she waved them off.

"Damn, the brat really got you good," her insignificant other mumbled, claiming the seat across from her. His healers stepped forward to offer their services, but he told them to fetch some mead instead; they all glared in disapproval. "I owe the gods for sending you to take my place! Would've hurt the morale of my warriors if they saw their handsome Khan get his arse handed to him! Bwa ha ha!"

"Ha! So you admit you would have lost as well, oaf?"

"Naturally." The instant admission caught Flavia flat footed. "Flavia." Gods preserve her, he actually sounded serious! "As a fellow Khan, I know what you're feeling."

"Do you?" Flavia challenged.

Despite their reluctance, a pair of clerics returned with Basilio's prescribed "medicine": two bottles of Feroxi mead. Basilio passed one to her, and she tore off the cork with her teeth before downing the whole bottle. The harsh flavor was soon followed by a pleasant buzz that took the edge off her groaning bruise.

"We're Khans," Basilio said after taking his own swig. "The best of our people. Those who can face us are as scarce as dragons."

"I heard you've got one sleeping here at your castle."

"Balls, I really do. Fine, bad example." The oaf started over. "Four years ago, you could've taken that masked whelp with one arm tied behind your back. Now he beat you while making it look easy!"

"He wasn't going all-out either," Flavia groused, her empty bottle cracking in her grip. The Huntsman hadn't used that strange golden magic that turned him into a spirit of war; it'd been reserved for Basilio's champion, and—by the looks of it—was also vastly more powerful than before.

"You see that last move the brat used?"

"I still have both eyes, oaf, unlike you."

Basilio huffed, but moved on. "How many attacks did you count?"

"… six, perhaps seven."

"Troll's arse, I barely caught four. Damn kid hasn't just caught up to us; he surpassed us."

Basilio hit the root of her restlessness on its head. The Huntsman's rate of improvement blew her expectations out of the water harder than a Bolganone. Exactly what had he been through these past four years? Flavia felt like she'd wasted that time in comparison.

It was frustrating.

"Damnation, I'm definitely going to have to take his warning about these Deadlords seriously," the oaf grumbled.

Flavia sat up. "Explain."

"The Huntsman had a bit of an adventure in Plegian lands, and confirmed something our spies only heard hearsay of. Our southern neighbors are involved in dark stuff; necromancy dark."

"They're reviving the dead?" Flavia snarled. The deceased deserved to rest, not be forced to prance about to a madman's tune!

"Thank the Grimleal. I thought they were just a bunch of Fell Dragon loving nutjobs. Well, they are, but turns out they're dangerous Fell Dragon loving nutjobs. They're helping the Mad King use the dead as a labor force, one far more efficient than a bunch of tuckered humans. The worst are these things they're calling Deadlords, special undead given special toys. From what the kid told me, each Deadlord is about as strong as you or me, and they've got 12 of them."

Flavia shot to her feet, outraged at the mere notion. To disrespect the dead was bad enough, but to claim these soulless Plegian constructs were her equal? She'd beheaded men for lesser insults!

"Wait, scratch that: 10. They've got 10 of them," the oaf corrected. "Our dear Huntsman took care of two of them himself, and acquired some very fine spoils of war, like that shiny new sword he was showing off."

Flavia needed to quell her raging breathing, which aggravated her wounds with every hiss. So she demanded another bottle of mead from the oaf's servants and chugged it as well.

Throwing herself back into her seat, Flavia spat, "This is bad."

Basilio grunted in affirmation. "Judging from the intel we've gathered and confirmed, Plegia will be declaring war on Ylisse using whatever casus belli they decide to pull out of their puckered holes. And after them: Regna Ferox. The Mad King won't be satisfied until he's got the whole continent under heel."

Flavia scowled. "How much time do we have?"

"Our best guess: five to six years."

A more youthful Flavia would've demanded they strike first, to rally their armies and cut down the Plegian bastards with Feroxi steel, but time had tempered her. If what Basilio said was true, and her other would never lie when their Regna Ferox was at stake, the Plegians had lined up a number of disastrous aces, and those were the ones they knew about. Their enemy desecrating the dead was bad enough, but now they owned 10 Khan-level subordinates as well! She shuddered to picture what havoc they could wreck on the battlefield.

Regna Ferox wasn't ready.

Not yet, at least.

"Five to six years?" Flavia asked for confirmation, and Basilio nodded. "Then we prepare! We put our warriors through rigorous training! Increase conscription! Begin stocking on preservable provisions! Declare a war tax! Hires blacksmiths en masse to fill our armories with weapons and armor! Conduct war drills! Scour our lands for possible Plegian spies!"

"All good ideas, though I'd suggest we take things gradually. Like you said, we don't know if the Mad King managed to sneak any of his snakes past Longfort, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious. This information's given us an early warning, and we can't afford to squander it."

"You actually sound like a respectable Khan. Will wonders ever cease?"

"Har-har, woman." In a rare moment of comradery, the two clinked bottles. While they got along like oil and water, they were still the Khans of Regna Ferox, and any who threatened their lands and people would face their combined wrath. "What of Ylisse?"

Flavia paused. The Halidom of Ylisse, Plegia's primary target. Last she heard, the Exalt was doing an adequate job spreading a prosperous peace across her country, but they were in no way prepared for war. If Plegia attacked, the Ylisseans would be crushed like untrained militia being plowed over by Valmese cavalry.

"You're not going to warn them?" Flavia asked.

"Plegia's been sending the bulk of their snakes to Ylisse. While the kid's been doing a bang-up job hunting them down, he can't patrol the entire halidom. We send word Plegia's up to no good and the Ylisseans start preparing for war—"

"—the Mad King might kick things off early," Flavia concluded.

Basilio nodded solemnly. "Bye-bye prep time. Another unfortunate truth: when the Mad King sends his armies to Ylisse, we'll get an idea of their tactics and numbers and be better equipped to deal with them ourselves."

"So we're to leave Ylisse to their fate?" Flavia asked, disliking the bitter taste those words wrought.

"Not necessarily. We won't warn them, but nothing says Regna Ferox can't form an alliance with Ylisse when the time comes to defeat a common enemy. Why let Plegia take us out one at a time when we can flip the table and gang up on the bastards? They want a war? Then we'll give them one."

Flavia smirked. "Quite devious for a buffoon."

"Bwa ha ha! They don't call me Basilio the Brilliant for nothing!"

"I've literally heard no one refer to you as such."

With that, Flavia stood to leave.

"Going so soon?" the oaf asked, beckoning his servants to fetch another bottle.

"I've no time left to waste on pleasantries," Flavia stated bluntly. "War will bloody the continent, and I will ensure it is Plegia that bleeds the most."

The East-Khan had a greater goal to strive towards, one that went beyond merely finding a champion for the next Grand Tournament. It wasn't just her warriors that required additional training, but herself as well. The frustration born from her recent loss was reduced to tinder, and the embers of war set them alight into a blaze of determination.

It'd been years since she'd felt this motivated, and she planned on feeding these flames until their brilliance rivaled the sun's.

~

Basilio watched the witch march from his sickroom with her personal guards scampering after her heels, unaware of the fresh hell she'd be putting them all through soon. How long had it been since he'd last seen Flavia so driven? Once a strong-minded woman like her got moving, very little could make her stop. The next time he saw her, he doubted he'd recognize the person she'd become.

Ogre's balls, she might even become stronger than him! Unacceptable!

"Damnation," Basilio grunted as he left his fresh bottle of mead unopened, "guess I better get to training too."

~

Robin and I found an empty parapet in Basilio's castle, covered in a thin layer of morning snow. Robin was shivering a bit, as it was cold enough to see her breath. I Traced a winter cloak for her and draped it over her shoulders. She gave me a grateful smile as she pulled the thick pelt tightly around her.

For a moment, the two of us simply gazed into the distance, appreciating the view. The tundras of Regna Ferox were as uninviting as always, but in this quiet and cloudless morning the unbroken snowscape held a serene beauty to it.

"I'm sorry," Robin began, her nose slowly turning red from the cold. "Talking you into sneaking into Plegia with me was beyond stupid."

"It's not your fault," I said. "I was the one who went along with it."

"Only because I manipulated your feelings of guilt."

I shrugged. "Then let's split the blame. It's your fault for coming up with the idea, and my fault for going with it."

Robin considered this, then smiled. "Alright, 50/50. We were both dumb."

"No arguments there."

We shared a soft bout of laughter.

"I've got another thing to apologize for."

"Again? Did you make a list?"

Robin playfully smacked my chest. "I'm talking about your Stone Mask. I dropped it when I let Aversa get to me."

"Oh, that." I took the Stone Mask out of my Inventory and passed it to her. "No worries."

This surprised Robin, who slowly accepted the mask. I observed as she stared into its uneven eyeholes, wondering if she was going to put it back on.

She didn't.

Instead, she asked, "How much did you actually hear? About what Aversa said?"

"Everything," I admitted. When Anguilla's Mjölnir dropped my hit points to nil, I could still pick up the shit Validar's bitch was espousing before I could fully pass on, and it pissed me off enough to activate [Too Angry To Die!]. Afterwards, with the Deadlords believing I was dead and ignoring me, I placed Balmung in my Inventory and Projected a Heal stave to gradually patch the worst of my wounds.

Once I could move, I socked the shrew right in the kisser.

Felt damn good, too.

"She knew my greatest fear," Robin said, her eyes lost on the snowy horizon. "That the person I am now is nothing but a fake, a temporary persona operating this"—she gestured at her body—"before Validar awakens Grima. It's the nightmare that's been haunting me ever since I learned the truth from mother."

I wanted to ask why Robin never brought this up before, but kept my mouth shut. She was talking about it now, and that's what mattered.

"I think that's why I constantly kept this on," Robin continued, raising the Stone Mask to eye-level.

"It wasn't because you were afraid the Grimleal would find you?"

"Certainly, but that wasn't all. A larger part of me believed that the world wouldn't miss a fake's disappearance, because she was never real to begin with. And if it kept me hidden from Validar's sights? Even better."

I wished I'd never asked the SYSTEM for the stupid mask.

"But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't force myself to keep living like that. Alone? Isolated from everyone and everything? It drove me crazy when mother raised me that way, leading to … the argument. The Stone Mask made cutting myself off even easier, yet all the more painful. The world was there, right in front of me, so close I could touch it, but somehow even further away than ever before. If you hadn't been there with me every step of the way, I think I would've gone insane.

"When I was younger, I'd always wonder why I had to live this way. Now, I know why: Validar. Everything was Validar's fault. Because of him, and the ridiculous 'destiny' he and the Grimleal planned for me, I felt … trapped, unable to escape; a prison of a cruel fate. I wanted to be free, to live, and I believed I couldn't so long as Validar was alive. As long as he drew breath, I'd always live a life of unending fear."

"Which is why you wanted him dead," I said.

Robin nodded, taking a shuddering breath. "But I was stupid. So what if we succeeded and Validar died? Another Grimleal would've doubtlessly taken his place. And if we killed them? And the person after that? Erased the Grimleal down to their last? I'd still be living in fear, constantly hiding behind a mask, because of my dreaded 'true' nature."

I wanted to protest, tell Robin was she wrong.

But I didn't have to, because when she turned towards me I saw her radiating a peaceful sense of sureness that'd been absent from her for years.

"You saved me. Your confidence, your words. I wasn't the monster the Grimleal created me to be, but the person I'd chosen to live as: your friend. Knowing how much you believed in me, in the Robin you knew, how could I keep doubting myself? Which is why I decided …"

She scrambled atop the edge of the castle's rampart, balancing precariously yet standing fearlessly nonetheless. Bewildered, I could only watch as Robin took in a deep breath, inhaling to her limit, before …

"MY NAME IS ROBIN NIRVID!" she announced to the world. "DAUGHTER OF MORGAN NIRVID, OF PLEGIA'S SIX HIGH HOUSES! I AM WHO I CHOSE TO BE, AND NOTHING VALIDAR, AVERSA, OR ANY GRIMLEAL SAYS OR DOES WILL EVER CHANGE THAT! IF THEY WANT ME SO BADLY, THEY CAN COME AND GET ME! THIS IS MY LIFE, MY FUTURE, AND I REFUSE TO LET THEM, MY FEAR, OR ANYONE ELSE CONTROL WHAT I DO ANY LONGER! THIS"—she cocked back her arm holding the Stone Mask—"IS MY CHOICE!!!" and threw it off the palisade, letting it tumble down and disappear into the castle courtyard below.

This was Robin, no longer the scared child hiding from her dreaded destiny, but the Tactician who could change the world.

Having screamed her heart out, Robin gasped heavily until she tilted backwards and collapsed into my arms.

Her fatigue did nothing to dampen her megawatt smile.

"Hi," she panted.

"Hey."

"Is it okay … if I experience this world with you?"

I grinned. "For as long as you want."

Robin snuggled into me, her shoulders a hundred pounds lighter.

While I wanted to let her bask in this moment, there was something I needed to point out. "Robin?"

"Hmm?"

"That Stone Mask …"

"What about it?"

"It was the original."

Robin stilled in my arms, and I mirthfully watched as her ears turned red. "I-It wasn't one of your Projections?"

"Nope," I chortled. "I picked it up after you dropped it and ran at Aversa like she owed you gold."

Robin didn't dare look up, unwilling to show me the depth of her embarrassment. "I-I should go look for it."

I patted her back. "I'll help."

~Current Stats~

NAME: ???

AGE: 21

CLASS: ???

LEVEL: 15

EXP: 26 / 100

HIT POINTS: 47 / 47

STRENGTH: [25]

MAGIC: 17

SKILL: 21

SPEED: 20

LUCK: 0

DEFENSE: 17

RESISTANCE: 21

~Current Skills~

PERSONAL SKILL 1: Projection, Trace Version

PERSONAL SKILL 2: Inventory of the Wild Hero

PERSONAL SKILL 3: [ERŘ̴͓̂̃̚OR!]

SKILL 1: Too Angry To Die!

SKILL 2: Reinforcement

SKILL 3: Poison Immunity

SKILL 4: N/A

SKILL 5: N/A