7 Experiments
CLANG
The sound of blades clashing against each other fills the training arena as I'm forced on the defensive. Jazus goes for a vertical chop which I narrowly block, using my superior strength to push him off and create distance.
This fucking *Safu
Phantom heat and the sudden smell of rotten eggs clue me into Jazus's plan to use fire magic, which is supposed to be banned in duels. I drop my practice blade and throw myself to my right, a pillar of fire sprouting from where I once was. If this Fusa doesn't want to play by the rules, why the hell should I?
Jazus and I are now at a stalemate, just looking at each other menacingly. Jazus puts his hand palm out facing me, and the dumbass stupidly informs me of his next move.
"Fireball. A basic magic spell takes a medium amount of mana to pull off, casting time is 1.5 seconds" One of my scars visible on my arm informs me. I have 1.5 seconds, that's barely enough for me to grab a water balloon from my pouch as I fling it towards him as he unleashes it.
SIZZLE
The water balloon and fireball clash, causing a loud sizzling sound like a screen of smoke in front of us. Not wanting to put this opportunity to waste, I pull out my handbow, aiming it at Jazus's silhouette and pulling the trigger.
"ARRGH" His squeal of pain clues me in on my arrow's success as a synthetic blast of wind surrounds the training arena causing the smoke to rapidly dissipate. With the steam gone I see Jazus on his knees, clenching his shoulder that has an arrow sticking out of it. Reloading my handbow, I holster it away as I walk towards the crying brat, who's currently complaining to Skizzazu, our elder, and who was supervising the duel.
"Elder! That bastard used his weird crossbow! We clearly stated that long-range weapons were not allowed!"
"And we also stated that magic wasn't allowed either, *Fusa" I sneer, not even feeling an ounce of guilt for the pain I caused him.
"You slumie cheating Safu I'll-"
SLAP
Jazus's rebuke was violently cut off by Elder Skizzazu slapping him cleanly across the face, causing Jazus to fall square on his ass.
"Your correct Jazus, Judas did cheat. But not only did you cheat first and use your fire magic against a defect, but you could also have injured or even worse killed him. And on top of that, you lost. You lost against a slumie defect who couldn't even use magic, who won by not only his superior skill, strength, and reaction time, but also by outsmarting you. In all honesty, you should be thanking him for only injuring your shoulder! He could have done so much worse and gotten away with it since you cheated first."
Jazus silently nods in shame, understanding finally dawning on him. "And you Judas" He starts, locking his eyes with mine.
"I know you know Jazus here is actually a noble, and you only did the bare minimum of damage upon him to get away with it. You're a smart kid I'll give you that, but remember that you're only a slumie defect, a cog in the wheels." Skizzazu finishes, an obvious threat underling his praise as a whirlwind surrounds the two, the intensity causing me to cover my eyes. By the time I could see clearly, they were gone.
"Yeah fuck you too" I murmur, picking up the practice sword off the ground and putting it back with the others. Looks like my self-harm experiment paid off, by reciting notes on basic magic spells while simultaneously harming myself, I automatically remember everything about said magic spell automatically, which seriously saved my ass in that duel.
There are only three days left until the expedition, and I'm using all the time I can to train, plan, and stock up on gadgets. Oh, speaking of gadgets I need to meet my supplier at the black market for my materials. The meeting time we set up was 3 PM and it's only 1 PM, so I'll do some more training to pass the time.
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"That... that was a good workout" I rasp, out of breath. Going through the stances of Blood floats on water always left me exhausted. Hmm, Blood floats on water is a good martial art form no question, but it can only be used best against daggers, axes, knives, and short swords. I can hold myself good enough against longswords, bastard swords, and other two-handed weapons, but good enough won't cut it. I need to train against people with heavy blades more often, both with Penance and my handbow/Ardor combo. I trained for like uhh roughly 1 hour right? So it should be around 2 Pm, which should give me enough time to get home and wash up before I meet my supplier.
The walk home was unfulfilled and bland. Fricn offered for me to live in his estate now that I'm officially his sponsor, but I declined as I grew attached to the shabby, moldy guest room above the Masked Pig. After stripping into my undergarments, I grab the bucket of questionably clean water, dipping a finger in it to test its temperature.
At least it's cold.
I soap myself with my shitty soap bar, the familiar sensation of scrubbing over my keloid scars threatening to bring back memories better left buried. Pushing the memories to the side, I grab the bucket of cold water and pour it on my head first, activating my diver's reflex and automatically calming me down to a manageable extent.
After washing off all the soap and fruitlessly trying to scrub off the scars all over my body, almost the point of causing my skin to bleed, I grab my towel and dry myself clean. I throw on some slacks and my belt, clipping Ardor to its sheathe on my waist while Penance finds itself home in its leather scabbard on my waist. Finally, I grab my money pouch and tie it on, officially having everything I need to meet my supplier.
I leave the tavern by its back exit, traversing through the alleyways of Mirefield's slums until I find myself at the market square. The market is right in the middle of the town, giving access to both rich and poor alike. I walk through the crowds of people until I see a hooded figure in the edges of my vision, his cloak perfectly camouflaged in the dark alleyway... almost anyway. Being extra careful to avoid suspicion or any possibility of being followed I make my way to the hooded figure, my movements so silent that even he didn't notice.
"If we were created in their figure," I start
"Then doesn't that mean the ones who created us are even more of a sinner than we are?" He finishes as he turns around, the hood on his face hiding any surprise he might have had from being snuck upon.
"You have what I want?" I ask him, I'm paying good money for something so common in the higher circles.
"Yeah, yeah I do" He stutters, grabbing a case from within his cloak and opening it, showing a thin hybrid between a needle and a scalpel. The blade had runes ingrained all over it, causing it to give off an eerily blue glow.
"This isn't a toy kid, are you sure you know what you're doing with this type of stuff?" He questions me.
"Stop asking stupid questions, of course, I know what I'm doing, why in Mary's name I would spend One sliver for it?" I respond irritably, trading the one sliver for the runepen.
"If you say so," He says grumpily, disappearing into the crowd of Mire Market.
A pained look spreads across my face as I pocket the runepen,
"Three days? I'll be cutting it close."
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"I hate this" I sigh as I pull the rough gloves made of cowhide over my hands, the screams and begging for me to stop turning into begging for the sweet release of death as I worked on perfecting my rune smithing, almost breaking my will for the umpteenth time. "Try to activate the rune" I ordered my newest test subject, thankful the mask on my face hides my utter disgust and sympathy.
He deserves this, you saw with your own eyes how much of a scumbag he is. Stealing from kids, assaulting the waiters at the local tavern. The rational part of me informs me.
"What about the homeless man last week?" I whisper back.
The rational part of me had nothing to reply, no excuse for what I've done.
Shaking myself out of these thoughts, I look closely as the man tries to feed mana into the rune inscribed into his flesh. His muffled screams escalate even more as the familiar, sickening smell of burnt flesh fills the basement, the rune burning his skin as it goes from red and blistering to black and charred over the span of five minutes. He's not screaming anymore, probably passed out due to shock.
Wouldn't be the first time.
Clicking my tongue in disappointment, I open my logbook and write down the results of my newest experiment:
Monday, Experiment "Icarus".
While successfully inscribing the rune on human flesh, when activated the fire produced implodes instead of explodes, causing 3rd-degree burns in as little as five minutes. Aborting the idea of inscribing offensive runes on self. Put all focus and resources onto Experiment "Assimilation."
Once I finished logging the results of today's experiment, I walked over to the test subject, checking his pulse. Albeit faint, his heart still beats. After putting him out of his misery, I walk to the other side of the basement, sliding down against the wall as I start to violently sob.
"HOW MANY MORE PEOPLE DO I HAVE TO TORTURE? HOW MANY MORE WIDOWS ORPHANS WILL I MAKE UNTIL YOU'RE SATISFIED!" I scream among my sobs, my broken heart turning into a powder with each more atrocity I commit.
*Runepen is what I'm going to call the blade, for now, think of it as ink needles for tattoos. The name is subject to change
*Fusa and Safu are curse words.
Fusa means Coward, a spineless bastard
Safu means pig, but is usually used more as calling someone a bitch
