Death Smith - Book 2 - Chapter 4

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Boot camp

Two days after the funeral.

Mid-March, 14 AR.

United Kingdom, London, Lance’s apartment.

Warm, gooey cheese and the crunch of grilled bread filled Lance’s mouth as he bit into the grilled sandwich. Lance could taste the garlic in the butter, mingled with the velvety texture of bread and milk. He had his eyes closed as he savoured the meal, knowing full well that it would turn sour the moment Lance opened his eyes again. He could feel his right foot maintaining pressure on Ash’s knee, maintaining the connection. As long as Lance did so, he could continue to use his skill, ‘Repair item’, on Ash.

It had been the third time Lance had used this skill, although this was the first time that Lance had done so with Ash outside of his inventory. Lance felt bad for what happened, even more so when looking at Ash’s blank face with just a trace of confusion hidden underneath it. When Lance finally finished his sandwich, taking the time to clean lick the crumbs of his fingers, he finally opened his eyes.

Ash was wearing Lance’s old gym clothes. The grey jogging pants and black t-shirt did nothing for Ash’s already pale complexion. Ash’s partially dislocated shoulder was still noticeable, but the repair skill had fixed most of the damage already. It was now more tolerable to look at the shoulder compared to how it had been before.

“Ash, I said I was sorry. Please, don’t give me that look,” Lance said as he placed his plate on the seat next to him. Ash stared at Lance before shifting his gaze back to his pale and dislocated left shoulder, monitoring the state of it. “Come on, you know it was a training accident,” Lance added, hoping it would be enough to placate his own conscience. It truly had been an accident, but it still made Lance feel guilty. For the last two days, Lance had been working hard with Ash to see if Lance could teach and train his companion.

It had taken Lance about a day and a half to teach Ash how to properly stand on his own, maintain balance, and even increase his pace while walking. This had been both frustrating and exhilarating, turning Ash from a seated blank slate into something that could follow Lance. Ash could now even grab things in the room where Lance was pointing at. It had not been a smooth learning experience, seeing as Ash had slammed into a wall one time and face-first into the table another time. This had damaged Ash on both occasions, displaying a minor cut the first time while suffering a broken neck the second time. Both times, Lance had repaired Ash after storing him in his inventory, although the second time had freaked Lance out beyond what words could describe.

[Repair Item: Lvl 1]

[Cost per usage: -25% Stamina/Magicka regen (Temporary)]

[Effects: Allows the user to repair item.

At lvl 1 restores 1 Durability per minute on 1 item.]

Lance had read the skill description, and its effects, about a dozen times. It seemed straightforward at first, but reality was never that simple. His skill, ‘mend wound’, was similar, in that it was just a minor healing ability, but it also blinded the recipient. The ‘Repair item’ skill also was more complex than what the description listed.

“So, here is what we know so far,” Lance said, pointing at the scribbles he had made on a piece of paper that was located next to a cup of tea. Lance chose to ignore the fact that Ash seemed more interested in the cup then the notes Lance had made.

“One, ‘Mend wounds’ does not work on you, seeing as the system classified you as an item,” Lance stated, remembering the dozens of times he had tried before his Magicka ran out. He had also tried using his skill on Thomas’s broken shield and torn R.A.M. uniform. The results had been similar, in that it only worked on the living people or animals.

“Two, to repair an item, it either has to stay in my inventory, or I have to maintain physical contact with it,” Lance explained, demonstrating further as he removed his foot from Ash’s knee. Instantly, Lance spotted the notification in his status screen that the Repair item effect had stopped. Lance then placed his foot on Ash’s knee again before reactivating the skill.

“Three, repairing takes time, and I can only repair a single item at a time,” Lance said, placing his hand on the torn R.A.M. uniform next to him and trying to activate the skill, only to receive a notification that it was impossible.

“Four, the skill repairs one durability per minute for a normal repair. If an item is missing large amounts of its material, it either needs additional suitable materials or enough black-shards to serve as a substitute,” Lance explained as he glanced at both the R.A.M. uniform and the shield. The badly damaged shield was missing a lot of steel. Lance had tried to repair the shield but was missing the raw resources or the additional shards to repair it. The torn R.A.M. uniform was in a terrible state, but the fabric was still all there, meaning Lance could repair it without additional materials.

Lance glanced at Ash and realised how different Ash was if Lance was to compare the man to an average Rifter. Ash had broken his neck several hours ago, and that had marked him as ‘broken’. Still, Lance had repaired him just fine, seeing as Ash had lost no parts of himself. ‘He is so different compared to Rifters,’ Lance thought, realising that Daniel was a prime example to serve as a comparison. A torn arm was something Daniel could survive, yet a broken neck was beyond healing. For Ash, it was the opposite.

“And number five. The reforging of a deceased Rifter into… well, whatever you are, does not create an item of similar strength,” Lance stated, remembering how he had tried a ‘light sparring match’ with Ash a few minutes ago, only to end up with Lance striking Ash’s shoulder hard enough to dislocate the joint. Lance had initially thought that Ash’s current capabilities were like that of Thomas when the man had been a Rifter. In reality, Ash was now comparable to how strong, durable and agile Thomas had been before he had become a Rifter.

‘The decrease in strength and agility makes things harder for us. Still, I can’t complain. Even having an extra pair of hands and eyes around will help a lot,’ Lance thought, remembering how he and the other weak survivors had helped Daniel and Dieter during their first Rift. They might not have been able to kill the monsters one on one, but in a group or as a distraction, they had contributed a lot.

“But, if you are to remain at base strength, we need to train you as much as we can,” Lance said, waiting for the Repair item skill to finish mending the damage Lance had done to Ash. As Lance waited for that, he grabbed his smartphone and began planning the next step for Ash’s training course. It wasn’t long before he concluded they would need some training gear.

* * * * *

A few hours later, Lance was waiting patiently, doing his best not to feel the judgmental eyes of the woman next to him. “There are a lot of items there,” The woman said, watching the absurd number of items in Lance’s cart. The steel cart was struggling to contain all the hefty weights, steel bars, ropes, elastic bands, and other sport-related equipment. Even then, Lance’s list went on, with several items being fetched by other employees that worked at the store. Lance watched the middle-aged woman, seeing the blue and black company jacket that contained her nametag. ‘She looks like a Margret,’ Lance thought as he felt the icy gaze of the woman.

“I am sorry about taking up so much of your time. I am nearly finished with shopping,” Lance said, ignoring Margret’s concern about whether Lance could get it all to his car and if he might be able to afford it. Although she made it seem like it was genuine concern, Lance could almost taste the judgmental tone in her voice. He then noticed two other employees return with tennis balls, archery equipment, some boxing and hockey gear, as per Lance’s request. “Thank you!” Lance said with a warm smile as he grabbed the items and placed them in his car, only to spot the third employee that came rushing over towards them, holding onto several folded and empty boxing bags. The way the other employees were watching Lance was different compared to Margret’s. There was excitement in their eyes and one of them was sweating, as if he had sprinted through the store to get the things on Lance’s list. ‘Dammit,’ Lance thought, chastising himself for not buying the items in several different stores to draw less attention.

He had gone to a store that was nearly an hour's drive from his house, to prevent running into an acquaintance, or God forbid Dieter and Daniel. The last thing Lance needed was rumours circulating in his neighbourhood about a weird Rifter that was buying sports goods in bulk.

Lance thanked the employees as he grabbed the rest of his items, afterwards pushing the cart towards the cashier. Each item was carefully scanned, with the cashier struggling a bit when it was time to scan the heavy weights. Lance smiled but figured small talk wouldn’t lessen their suspicions of him. He could feel the eyes of several onlookers as he placed the items back in his cart, handling the weights with relative ease. As a Rifter it was useless to him in terms of equipment, seeing as Lance couldn’t bring any of it with him inside a Rift. But to help train Ash, it would be vital.

Lance and Ash could use those weights in a dozen ways, from slowing down Ash’s movement, to teaching Ash how to throw a heavy object. The boxing and hockey gear would hopefully lessen some of the damage Ash would sustain when the two of them would spar, or get Ash used to gear that might restrict movement. The steel rods, archery equipment and other items would mimic distinct threats. Lance would blunt some of the arrow tips and wrap layers of cloth at the ends of the steel rods. All this to make it less lethal, thus prevent unnecessary repair time. Ash might only be as strong and quick as an average human, but Lance would make sure that Ash got as much training and experience in combat for the man to survive a Rift. Or at least as much as Lance could force in a short period.

Lance noticed the successful transfer icon appear on the register, indicating that he had just spend over a thousand pounds on items. This not even including the amount he had spend on the car he had rented for the next few days. Lance suppressed the urge to groan as he slid his wallet back in his pocket and said goodbye to the cashier. In the grand scheme of things, a thousand pounds was pocket change for an average Rifter. Basic provisions for inside a Rift were usually even more expensive than that.

Still, training with Ash and buying the equipment was helpful for Lance’s emotional wellbeing. Lance could focus his mind on the task ahead, rather than deal with whatever emotions and memories he tried to bury underneath the anger and the oath he had sworn.

With a cart overflowing with stuff, Lance made his way over to his rental car.

* * * * *

“There we go,” Lance said a while later, after he and Ash had unpacked all the things from his car. Lance then placed the last box on the floor next to the others. Ash did the same, placing a bag full of tennis balls as he eyed the strange circular objects. It had taken some time to get used to, but the quiet, observing nature of Ash had its charms. Lance had tried to teach Ash how to speak, but the sounds that Ash produced were akin to stone grinding against metal. Like some sort of unnatural growl. Lance had stopped teaching Ash afterwards, deciding he’d spend more time on the actual training, rather than him get nightmares from Ash’s vocal lessons.

Lance smiled as he stepped backwards, seeing the sorry state the old factory was in. Thomas and Lance had been inside of it a dozen times when they had been younger, daring one another to smash in a window with a brick or to risk their lives at traversing the rusty old walkway on the second floor.

From what Lance remembered, this building had used to be a cookie factory before the competition had driven it out of business many years ago. The city had scheduled the place for demolition several times, but eventually just left it alone to rot, out of sight. Lance had decided to make it their training ground because of the abandoned state. That, and it was nearby, allowing easy access for Lance either by bike or simply after a short walk.

“This will work for now,” Lance said both to himself and to Ash. Hardly anyone ever visited this place beyond the occasional daring teenager. Seeing as Lance knew the place well, he figured the two of them could barricade the entrances and windows with a few heavy steel beams or some old crates. If anyone happened to enter it, Lance would hear them coming and be able to hide Ash. That, or Lance would scare them off. Just in case, Lance made sure that Ash was always wearing regular clothes and a hoodie to hide most of his unnatural features when they were outside of Lance’s apartment. At a distance, Ash looked like a pale person, something that wasn’t all that strange in the United Kingdom.

Inhaling, Lance took another look around, seeing dozens of sharp edges, mouldy wood, and rust-stained metal. If Lance wanted to train in a safe environment with all the equipment and opportunities he would ever need, his best course of action would be to go to one of the many GRRO training facilities. For only a minor fee, he would have access to swimming pools, climbing walls, obstacle courses, VR-chambers, gun ranges and all the professional trainers he could ever need. But Lance did not want a safe environment. He had seen just how different the GRRO facilities were from an actual Rift. There wasn’t any risk of a cave collapsing or a Rifter stepping into jagged thorns or crashing through brittle terrain.

To prove his own point, Lance pulled on a nearby handrail, only to rip half of the steel support pins out of the wall, clearly rusted or broken from decay. This place could fall on their heads at any moment. That constant fear would make the perfect place for them to train. The best part was that no one beyond Lance would know where to look for them. No one would link this place to Lance. Not the GRRO, nor Dieter and Daniel. He could train Ash here every day with no one noticing. The two of them could hide the equipment they used in some of the nearby boxes, stash them on the second floor, or simply keep it where it was. Worst-case scenario was that some teenagers would steal his bow or gloves. He figured no one in their right mind would steal the heavy fitness weights. And if they did, Lance felt that they would have earned it at that point.

Beyond training Ash, Lance realised that he himself would need to grow as well. Connor, Kira, and Louis were all dozens of levels higher than he was, if not hundreds. Lance would need to grow both in skill and levels if he wanted to get justice for Thomas. Just tagging along with a company such as R.A.M. and following strict rules wouldn’t work anymore. He needed more freedom and flexibility to do what he wanted and to get as much experience within a short amount of time. Ash would help him in that. Beyond that, Lance’s own abilities had to be honed to perfection as well.

Then, with a wolfish grin, Lance grabbed the protective boxing helmet and a chest piece as he turned towards Ash.

“Ready for round two?”

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Author: Osirium

Copyright: 2022 OsiriumWrites

Released: 2022