Chapter 26: Restore

With the very essence of turmoil, I stand at the center of a maelstrom of metal. Iron shards throng and thrash around me clanging into each other with vicious force. Despite crouching for my own protection, the edges of the storm creep closer with each of my breaths.

My body deforms as each piece of me loses tension until I am but a pile of human slop. I pour through a drain in the middle of the storm right as the metal wind encloses on my body.

Falling down the drain, I flop around slowly until limbs of unknown proportion grow from my body. Fangs and claws pierce my skin as the darkness abates leaving a desolate room of white wood keeping me contained within.

Each of the panels grow an image like a mirage coming into focus. The blur slowly fades revealing a nightmarish spectacle. A semi-human slop with eight limbs from different animals hobbles as a deformed mutant fears itself.

Worms crawl from the walls splintering through cracks of green until only a sea of flopping wet maggots surround my body. They close upon me crawling into my ears and mouth while pushing against my eyelids.

They pierce my head slithering behind my eyeballs with a sensation mimicking a painless stab like I can no longer feel pain. I fall out from my body seeing the abomination in all its horror.

I scream as the sloppy horror gurgles, “I am you. We are one.”

I jerk upwards as Luke pushes against my shoulder. His red hair flails against the air in maintained curls that frame his lean face like vines hanging from a branch. His eyes smile as he says in his splints, “How’s it going buddy?”

I grin back at him happy without reason, “I just had this awful nightmare, but that is over now. How is your health?”

He lifts his shoulders and arms slightly displaying each of his injuries, “What do you think?”

“You look as though you fought an abyssal bat glowing pink.”

“The only thing I fought was Florence. She completely destroyed me at my very first practice. They said it would be tough, but damn.”

He grimaces slightly while looking down, but after a moment he looks up with renowned vigor replying rapidly, “I have heard about your exploits though. You apparently walked from campus with the arm of some slime while covered in blood.”

“I might have, but you have received a rather negligent training session it appears. What was the fool thinking setting you against an experienced gemchainer.”

“I really don’t know. The thing is, she got actual gemchaining equipment with enchanted gear and everything. Her first swing was so hard she broke my arm.”

Feigning a wince as he verbalized his punishment, my false discomfort spurs him on.

Luke says, “Oh it didn't stop there. She kicked me in my stomach breaking a few ribs. Afterwards she slammed her sword downwards at me, but I blocked the blow with my leg. Alastair enchanted me some stilt golems to help with my leg while I’m crippled, but I quit gemchaining the moment I woke up.”

“I can imagine. I haven’t heard any hearsay from that sleazy cockroach of a trainer. Do you know what has happened to him?”

He leans closer despite us being alone, “The strange thing is, no one has even seen him or his body since the incident. He just up and disappeared as though he were air.”

“A rather pleasant surprise.”

“Aye. I don’t know what was wrong with his head, but he really laid it on me. I’m back now though. You ready for Alastair's class?”

I rub my hands together with vigor, “But of course. Do you need a preparatory recap before you enter the classroom?”

“If you wouldn't mind.”

While gathering and donning my clothes we chat about rumors of the campus and classes when Luke stabs a soft spot with his words, “So how are you and Joan doing?”

I freeze for a moment before replying, “We aren't. I blew my chances with her, though I doubt my own capacity for capturing her heart.”

He playfully punches my shoulder saying, “You gotta be joking. Hell, you look even taller than before I broke my bones, and with words like yours, the ladies have to be crawling on you.”

I clench my fist before I reply, “My intensity will drive them off in droves regardless.”

“We’ll see about that. Either way, I can always just hand a few off to yah if I find too many of my own.”

“Hah. You're as attractive as a porcupine covered in salt and poison.”

“Man, I am a king with the ladies. You’ll see.”

I roll my eyes before lifting my cloak when Luke shouts, “WHAT IS THAT?”

Flinching for a moment at the suddenness of his bellowing, I reply, “It’s a coat.”

“That isn't just a coat. That is a fassar coat with three pelts! How in the hell did you get one that looks that good.”

“I improvised.”

“That has to be worth at least 1000 gold. Your family must be rich you lucky bastard.”

My breath catches in my throat for a second as my chest pinches my words, but after the momentary lapse, I reply, “They are the bravest beings I have ever met. They face each day as though their last. The sky and stars would weep at their passing.”

“Uhh, well, they sound cool. They are loaded at least. And what the hell is that sword?”

As I brandish the saber, the light reflects from each angle perfectly deflecting rays of light onto the paintings in the room and across the wooden floors. I put the blade in a leather strap that hangs from my waist then reply with a planned response,

“It’s a family heirloom. My great grandfather Deluge found it in the forest. On a trek through the forest, he met fairies of all colors who tore through the air. He followed them, but as he reveled in the splendor of the wisps, he found a lost cove. Even as he approached undaunted, a wooden creature lifted itself from its resting spot over its pile of treasure.”

I flourish my arms as I continue, “With each step closer he took, the creature that unwound itself grew until a woman stood before him glowing green as a tree python. He looked at the eyes of the creature, and he saw reason lying deep in the beings pupils.”

I lean over while opening my hands continuing, “He asked the creature,

‘What is it that you protect fair one.’ The forest spirit understood his language as if her own, so she replied,

‘I guard this place and my treasure.’ My grandfather knew that what she protected must be special, and he composed a plan both clever and cunning.

‘What would I have to do for your treasure?’

The spirit replied, ‘There is nothing you may do besides slay me leg walker.’

‘Ah, but what if someone perfect asked?’

‘There is no being who is perfect.’

‘But what if there was?’

The spirit pondered the question as she understood what he meant, so she replied, ‘I would give such a person my treasure, but you are no such thing.’

‘You are correct. I am no one.’

‘Then be as no one and leave this place.’

‘But didn't you say that no one was perfect earlier?’

‘What? Of course.’

‘Then I ask for the sword.’

The wooden entity questioned and questioned itself, but it could find no reason the man was wrong. The spirit eventually looked back at my grandfather and replied, ‘Clever ruse mortal. I shall give you one gift for your scheme.’

My grandfather knew of the value of things, so when he was presented with the gold and jewels he said, ‘Nay.’

When he was presented with glimmering crowns and cups he said once more, ‘Nay.’

As the spirit brandished a pearl the size of a man’s fist, my grandfather shouted one last time, ‘NAY.’

The spirit grew restless and angry, so it formed a dagger of perfect white and unmatched sharpness. The entity told him, ‘This is the finest sword you shall ever see or use. With this blade, no enemy shall survive your wrath.’

My grandfather grinned with glee as he took the precious object, but he had been fooled by the spirit’s own cunning.

Once he reached his home after his long journey, he told his wife, ‘Gaze upon my prize!’

But as he said so, the sword pierced his skin and veins deeply. As he tried shaking the blade from his hands, the spines only grew deeper. He felt his blood entering the blade as he struggled to escape, yet he only grew weaker.

Once the blade had finished draining his blood, my grandfather stood as a dried husk barely able to move, so he shouted with his last breath a voice as dry as winter wind, ‘This blade is scourged by a forest spirit. May no mortal use it for all time, else they perish by this blight.’

Over many years, the blade collected derelict dust, but I found the demonic sword of pure white laying in my parents attic. When I gripped the blade, no spines stabbed at my hand, and I have wielded the saber ever since.”

Luke had sat down on his bed wide eyed at my tale. My words enraptured his attention until he shakes his head of his own stupor, saying, “What a story. I hope the blade doesn't suck all your blood one day.”

I grin mischievously, “Only time will tell.”

We head towards Alastair’s classroom entering through the reinforced doors. The cages are empty now, but the enchanted iron lamps radiate a healthy glow of blue that fills the body with energy despite the gray, tomb like stone lining the walls with rugged square blocks.

The granite on the floor contrasts the light gray walls with a dark blue owning white blotches speckling each polished surface. The blue light, that the iron lamps emit, wavers through glass bulbs that create dark lines that move through the classroom as though we wafted underwater.

We arrive just before the lecture starts. As we enter, Alastair smiles slightly saying, “Are you ready for learning how to interlay runes?”

Several students groan at the overall complexity of the task, but I revel in the obstacle. Excitement builds as I find myself facing a challenge.

Alas, the task proves rather simple. The complexity of the runes disguises a system where they intermingle depending on combinations of the ten elements. While the process is tremendously difficult if one tries memorizing the patterns, If you convert each of the elements into a number then correlate each set into an equation the task becomes trivial.

While I teach Luke the system I constructed, Alastair walks up asking, “Well Jack. You seem to get a handle on such tasks rather quickly.”

“These tasks are only difficult if you assault them with brute force. With just a slight maneuver you can strip the difficulty away. The process is like eating a fruit with the peel versus peeling the fruit first.”

Alastair leans over then asks, “So would you care to explain how you finished the assignment so fast?”

“I took the elements and correlated them with one of the numbers from 0-9. After that, I look at the rune setups you presented and solved the codes by using a mathematical sequence.”

“So you took and converted the elements into numbers already? Rather impressive. That is actually the course material for next semester Jack.”

“Just that? Surely there is more to this science than just basic equations.”

“There is more to it yet. You would be surprised what you can accomplish by changing your mindset Jack.”

I raise one of my eyebrows while smiling, “You would be surprised at you accomplish when you don’t.”

“Hah, hah. Maybe so. Keep up the good work.”

Luke and I leave class early as we both finish the assignment due to my method. We split with goodbyes while I head over to the gemchaining building. As I walk into the arena, I prepare myself for the trails to come.

Petra coaches Joan who dodges knives that Petra throws at her while Joan stands against a wooden wall. Joan’s eyes trace the movements of Petra’s arms and wrists rather than the daggers themselves allowing her to consistently dodge despite the pace and speed Petra throws her weapons.

The knives fly directly at her vitals from her eyes to the arteries in her legs. When Joan moves, she uses the smallest movements to dodge the obstacles as the platform she stands on has a thin film of grease making dramatic movements near deadly.

While they perform their own training, I pick up several sandbags, and I flop them onto my shoulders then pick up several more holding them in my arms.

With the same vivacity of yesterday’s pacing, I tear my feet through the sanded arena. My feet throw up far more grains than before as my weight catches more traction on the sand. Despite my attempts, my gravity combined with the burden of the sandbags produces a small quake where I land.

After the hour is up, I toss the sandbags from my shoulders while letting go of the weights in my arms. The overall difficulty of the activity degrades the trail of yesterday, so much so that Petra questions,

“You should be so sore you can’t move. You even look taller.” She leans closer being slightly shorter than me now and continues, “What are you?”

Before I can reply, she kicks me on my chest like she’s kicking down a door, but I only shift backwards two steps while she nearly falls down.

After she balances herself she says, “What the hell. What’s in your bones? You weigh at least 250 pounds.”

I shrug nonchalantly, “I am a terrifying eater. Some even say there is a parasite living in me.”

She eyes me slightly before continuing, “Well your conditioning is plenty good to continue. You and Joan will spar after you change into your gear. Hop to it.”

Joan and I trot into the main building with an iron door meeting our entrance. The smoothly oiled construct slides open like ice on ice. Once we enter, we put on our gear in silence.

I initiate a conversation through the heavy atmosphere, “So how has your classes been flowing? I pray like a gentle stream in a forest brimming with life.”

She looks around then replies, “They go well I guess.”

“Excellent. I assume your approach towards classes mimics your training philosophy. Your discipline is a marvel Joan. Your fervor outpaces even my own by bounding strides.”

She looks down squeaking, “I just enjoy fighting.”

“If only you enjoyed my company with such earnest zeal.”

She looks up saying, “It isn't like that. I just don’t know what to say after everything that happened.”

“Then instead of changing because of what happened, let our connection foster as it did before. When I confessed to you, I didn't expect a reply. I merely voiced my own feelings regardless of yours.”

“It was rather sudden. I was so embarrassed, and your harp-”

“I need no apology. I am should and am sorry for my tactlessness. My own brutish handling of the circumstance afflicts you with a disease that eats at your mind.”

“I don’t know. I just went to fast so you felt pressure, and I feel like I’m just pushing you around, and you're so young so you don’t know what's going on...”

“Then let us learn together at our own pace. There is no need to rush.”

“...I would like that.”

A air of warmth like a summer breeze comforts the aura between us. The tension dissipates spurring me on, so I say teasingly, “Have you prepared since our last battle?”

She smiles confidently while her eyes shine, “A little.”

“That is the Joan I know. Let’s go before Petra forces us to drink a bucket of boiling water.”

We scramble outwards towards Petra shuffling in our armor pieces over our clothes. Petra shouts, “What the fuck are you lovers doing? Fucking?”

Both Joan and I redden at her accusation, but she continues relishing in our discomfort, “Alright then lovers, prepare to beat the shit out of each other.”

My cloak and sword remain in the locker room while I brandish the training sword that resembles a block of iron. The object moves like air in my fingers, so I twirl the object in my hands using my fingers to steady the rotation.

Petra shouts, “GO.”

Joan dashes at me, but I stomp forward lifting a shield of sand while a dull thud emanates from my foot. The opaque barrier only lasts a second, but I dash towards Joan tackling her shadow.

She dances her feet rotating around whipping my back with a trained movement perfectly countering my tactic. Her years of training grant her a smooth, fluid motion that allows her to whip her momentum into a strike against my back.

I crouch downwards rolling so the blow only scrapes stinging a patch of my skin. I turn towards her fainting a throw of my sword tricking Joan into a dodging movement. As she slides across the sand, her body rapidly grows in size as I near her swinging my sword forward in my right hand.

She parries the strike, but the force of the blow throws her slightly off balance while I whip my left arm into her side. The force bends the metal guard over the side of her torso while throwing her to the side.

She spits through her mask gasping for air as I swing my sword downwards towards her helm aiming for a knockout blow. She leans her own sword against the sand at an angle shoving my arm toward the left and into the sand which stumbles me slightly. As I balance myself, she grabs my right arm with her own arms while putting her legs across my chest then she shoves her belly against my elbow.

The leveraging contorts my joints as exploding pain spikes from my right arm. The ligaments of my joint snap as I grab her arm then lift her body with my l arm. Relentlessly tearing through the pain, I jerk her upwards as though lifting a log overhead then I shove her head with her body into the sand using my right arm.

She plows several inches into the sand with a loud TOOM while my arm curves back into socket. Her body slackens, and guilt assaults my mind. I bashed Joan with excessive force, but Deluge calms me with a statement of irrefutable logic, "She broke your arm and tore your tendons. Of course you will react with violence."

As I shake out the injury, Deluge rapidly heals the dislocation. The tear only bended my arm slightly out of place, but Petra says,

“How did you heal your arm?”

“Me? Oh, I just have rather flexible joints. My elbows can bend back below 90 degrees.”

“I heard popping Jack.”

“Shoulders pop all the time. You're over analyzing this Petra.”

“Hmmmm...Maybe. Get a bucket of water for Joan. She has never lost two fights in a row to the same person. The little shit deserves failure for her conduct.”

Before I trot away, she says, “Wait one moment. You have some rather interesting tactics for a beginner. Where did you learn them?”

”I didn't. I noticed how my steps influenced the sand earlier for the stomp. Joan had been practicing sword throwing, so I thought her instincts may kick in if I pretended to throw my sword. I used that to close the distance. I was only lucky when she resorted to grappling.”

“Hmmm. We may have a fighter in you yet. You battle like you've been at death’s door.”

“Well how can you even know you're alive unless you've faced your own death?”

Her eyes squint slightly as she replies while crossing her arms, “How old are you?”

“13.”

“What? No. Do not spit lies at me.”

“I carry burdens of those much older. My own hardships give me an age well past my years.”

“If you say so. Go get that bucket of water weaver of tall tales.”

Ignoring her jab, I jog until I reach the edge of the building where a well with twelve buckets surrounding it slowly rots. The dilapidated construct still serves its purpose, and I return within moments.

Petra orders me to dump the water on Joan, so I do so regretting my task. Joan breaths deeply as the cold water drips down her back. She then says, “What happened? I must have lost.” She whispers under her breath, but my enhanced hearing catches her words.

“Fucking dammit.”

She rips off her helmet and tosses the metal object on the ground wilting at her loss. Struggling to contain my laughter, I watch as Petra walks up to her. She then slaps Joan hard enough that spit flies from her mouth ceasing my chuckling. Joan wobbles under her own weight, but Petra backhands her stumbling figure in the other direction before shouting, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Joan looks around then says, “Me? I just lost. I’m sorry for my failure-”

Smack. Another loud clapping of palm against cheek blares through the air. Petra shouts, “You tried to maim him Joan. You nearly broke his arm. Hell, I still believe you did.”

Joan cringes as Petra continues, “The boy has only fought three times, and you try ripping his arm off. I don’t give a shit if you think you're going to lose. NEVER mangle an ally for your own petty self satisfaction.”

Petra pushes Joan away saying, “Now get out of my sight.”

Joan stumbles off as Petra turns toward me.

Red hot fury seethes from my frame. How dare she hurt Joan. How dare she strike her face and tear her down. Before I explode, Petra walks up and says,

"Show me your arm. I told you about that fighter who fought through a broken one right? I aim to not repeat my mistake again.”

I rasp out, “I’m fine Petra-”

“Show me your arm.”

Her concern dampens my ire, so I grudgingly remove my equipment then roll up my sleeve revealing my arm prominently displaying the veins lacing my limb. The color of my skin changed to a somewhat dark yellowish color. My hands also expanded from limber and graceful instruments to well balanced fingers with wide palms for punching.

She looks closely while moving the joint. After a few more motions, she lets go of the arm saying, “Well, you have beaten the best I had. We will have to get you more sparing partners after today.”

I question, “After today?”

“I will be your opponent next. Florence is in a class while Michael is off Gaia knows where.”

“Hmmm. It will be an honor to fight you, slayer of nightmares.”

“Hah. You had better be ready for more than just that.”

We walk into the arena where students of all kinds fight with a variety of weaponry in the arenas laced throughout the room while other students smash their targets with whatever tool they have in hand. The walls of red marble have thin, jagged white lines tracing their bulk with webs of black intermingling as well.

The roof’s wood contrasts as a thick border of white maple wood meets the ebony center of the roof. Windows with black trim show the campus’s botanical greenery. Even the worn equipment shows signs of quality akin to a older man who still retains his handsome features.

We reach an empty arena where Petra says, “This is the arena for grappling. You will need to learn about this if you ever want to be able to face a technical opponent.”

I shake out my shoulders while preparing my stance with my arms at my side when Petra dashes towards me. Despite my anger from earlier, my focus remains unblemished, so I shoot sideways while striking with my left hand, but she dodges while maintaining her distance.

She steps on my foot while swinging a strike with her left hand into my right side. tendrils of agony explode from her blow like a metal octopus was shoved in my chest cavity.

I lurch downwards where a knee greets my nose. My vision whitens as I fall backwards landing on my back. A hard object strikes against my stomach and throat before I roll over onto one of my knees. Her heel comes flying towards my shoulder like a scythe towards hay in an attempt to knock me over.

I angle my shoulder so her kick slides off while I jump towards her. She latches above me under my neck pulling upwards. The pressure snaps my head like a guillotine, but I brace through the jolt.

Despite her jerking, I grab her back as she increases her lurches strength, but I plant my feet leveraging off her back to pull her upwards. Her feet leave the ground where I raise her by her waist then snap her body towards the ground.

She rolls against the platform using her hands to guide her her balance as she slingshots the force into her heel which hooks against the back of my face.

The ground smashes my forehead as my vision bounces violently, and Petra moves onto my back gripping my neck with her vice like arms. I lose my breath as my face swells. My vision grows red dots, but I struggle. I do not relent.

I push upwards with my hands against the floor as she latches onto my chest with her legs. I stand up slowly while grabbing a hold of her legs. After I stand tall, I jump upwards then fall leaning backwards.

Petra raggedly gasps as her body bears the brunt of both our weights, but she holds with the same iron like tenacity. She pulls upwards digging her forearms against the veins of my neck.

My face expands with pressure as I steel myself against her leverage. I pull her arms in my last gambit for release, but she resists like a brick wall. I squeeze her arms jerking and squirming with fidgeting motions as though I were drowning before my vision starts fading.

I slam Petra's back and head against the floor as I writhe, but despite the punishment she continues. I reach my hands towards her hair grabbing her mane then I reach my arm outwards. I smash her jaw with my knuckles.

I pound relentlessly until her arms slacken leaving me gasping for air. She lays limply at my side as I struggle upwards, but once my posture straightens, my vision blackens until all is dark.

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