No one felt more surprised than the one that relied on surprises to win. More often than not, Dallion had relied on out of the box thinking that he’d come up with on the spur of the moment when facing an impossible situation. Thanks to the lack of awakened limits and his time back on earth, he had found several ways to surprise and ultimately defeat his opponents. Even back when he was volunteered to take part in a chainling hunt, he had managed to create rockets out of dartbow bolts. Naturally, in most of the cases, he’d had additional help, but it was his unorthodox thinking that had led him to victory, one of the things he prided himself on having. Seeing March do something that defied his expectations had left him virtually petrified.

Weapon armor, he thought.

There was no reason for him not to have suspected that. He had already seen shapeshifting weapons when fighting in the Nerosal festival tournament. Just because March had never resorted to using that trick up to now was no excuse to ignore it. In hind-sight all the signs had been there. Of course, in hindsight, everything was obvious.

“Did the idea come from me or the real March?” Dallion asked, trying to calm his breathing.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters for next time,” Dallion replied. “It matters for the real world. It might change the way I behave.”

“In that case, consider that it’s from the real one and act accordingly.”

That wasn’t a useful answer, though the lesson behind it was. If he had assumed the same thing at the start of this battle, things would have been very different. At the very least, he would have followed his attempt to cocoon her with a subsequent attack of his own. Instead, Dallion had been so certain that his plan had worked, that he had effectively stopped fighting.

“Better luck next time,” March said, then swung to strike Dallion with her mace.

Before the weapon could reach him, however, Dallion took a step back, vanishing into the wall. Not expecting such a turn of events, the woman tried to redirect her blow, but it proved impossible. She was already midway through the strike, so doing anything different until it was over proved impossible, even for her. The delay was only going to last a few fractions of a second, but in such circumstances, a few fractions were enough.

Nox! Dallion ordered.

Three black silhouette cublings leapt out of the wall, claws bared, aiming straight for March. Normally, that would hardly be a concern. However, in addition to having a cat-like appearance, the creatures were also cracklings; their claws had the power to crack through any non-indestructible material. What they couldn’t break, they’d weaken—leaving spiderwebs of cracks behind—to the point that anything else could break.

One landed on the woman’s shoulder, clawing her neck guard off before March dispatched it.

MINOR FAMILIAR WOUND

NOX’s health has been reduced by 20%

A red rectangle emerged in front of Dallion’s eyes, followed by two more, just as March’s piece of armor crumbled to pieces. This was more than enough distraction. If he couldn’t win under such circumstances, he deserved to lose the trial.

Bursting into twenty instances, he leapt forward, dagger in hand. The wall, or rather the illusion of the wall, vanished allowing him to go on an all-out attack. His speed, naturally, was no match for that of his opponent, but of twenty possible attacks, two were met with a block. Naturally, one of those two instances was the one Dallion decided to accept as reality.

The Nox dagger sliced through Marche’s gauntlet. Its edge shared the properties of the familiar itself, cutting through sky iron, flesh, and bone.

CRITICAL STRIKE

Damage dealt is increased by 200%

“You’re not the only one with surprises,” Dallion whispered, going into a series of counterattacks. One hit was precisely what he needed to keep going, striking at armor joints just as fast as March protected herself.

For several moments, the fight came to a stalemate. After a combination of tricks and good fortune, Dallion had managed to close the skill gap between him and March. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to last long. A sharp kick threw him to the side, almost knocking him over. There was no damage rectangle, but the attack had cost Dallion the initiative. Now it was up to March to resume with her attacks, and given that she had two weapons, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

The whip blade darted through the air, flying from the other side of the room in an attempt to perform a surprise strike. Unfortunately, the weapon was deflected long before it got close via another circular line-attack.

Three quarters of Dallion instances vanished on the spot, the remaining ones only saved thanks to Lux’s ability to fly. Despite that, Dallion didn’t give up. Bursting into another set of instances again, he unsummoned his current weapons, dripping a dartbow in his right hand. With a double twist, he moved closer to March, shooting two bolts straight into her torso. The metal projectiles bounced off, merely pushing her an inch back. A counterattack was imminent.

Lux, flash! Dallion ordered as he closed his eyes. The flame surrounding him became incandescent, filling the entire room with light.

Dallion could feel the intensity through his eyelids. No doubt March would have felt it as well.

At this point, there were many possible ways of attack. Dallion, however, chose to proceed with his original plan. Once again, he summoned the armadil shield, but this time it wasn’t strapped to his arm, but rather helped in reverse.

Cocoon! Dallion said.

Once more the shield extended, its metal pieces surrounding March. This time, Dallion followed through by having a dozen of his instances dash behind her, firing as many bolts as he could.

One more red rectangle emerged, indicating that the woman had received additional damage. Then, silence. The cocoon closed fully, its prisoner securely inside.

That’s it? Dallion wondered. Experience taught him to be cautious, though as the seconds passed it was starting to look like he’d won this battle.

“Looks like the tables have turned,” March said from inside the metal sphere. “Now I’m in here with no means to get out.”

“You can always surrender,” Dallion said, summoning his harpsisword.

“Unable to finish me off?”

“Oh, I can. I just prefer not to.” After spending so much time in the wilderness, he had become accustomed to such things. While for the larger part he had captured creatures instead of killing them, there were cases in which he wasn’t given much of a choice. At the end of the day, even for one following the path of the empath, it was kill or be killed. Thankfully, the only creatures killed had been Staw spawn. “Also, I don’t have to kill you to knock you out.”

On cue, Lux moved from Dallion to the metal sphere, taking the flames with him.

“I can have Lux spin the shield around at mach five speed until you faint.”

“The wilderness has made you seasoned. Don’t let your guard down, though. The higher you climb, the more will try to push you down.”

“Isn’t that always the case?”

You have broken through your fifty-seventh barrier!

Your level has increased to 57.

Choose the trait that will serve you best.

Without even waiting, Dallion chose empathy. Now that he had gotten used to it, the trait was a tremendous boon. No wonder it was considered one of the broken skills out there. What was more, it was going to be quite useful when visiting the provincial capital. The more area and item guardians he got to talk to, the easier it would be to obtain information.

She’s right, though, Nil said. You ruffled a few feathers here and there, but for the most part you’ve kept in the wilderness, far from intrigue in the cities. When you get involved with an archduke, you’ll be considered a real threat.

“I doubt I’ll be involved directly. Besides, March will be there. She’ll attract a lot more attention than me.”

That much is true. Just try not to stand out too much, dear boy. Your level is starting to show.

Dallion’s surroundings disappeared, returning him to the forge. He felt somewhat relieved after the experience, but still didn’t have the will to forge a thing. Apparently, some of his new flaws ran deep. After a few more minutes, he decided that it was better that he went back home. If nothing else, he could grab some food on the way. Things might have changed a lot in the last year, but his appetite after leveling up remained the same.

Despite not having used the forge, Dallion put everything in place, cleaned it to a shine, and only then left. It wasn’t even evening outside, the sun still a quarter of its way to the horizon. Last winter—and the only winter that Dallion had experienced as an awakened—had been rather mild in the area. In Nerosal itself, it was almost as if it hadn’t occurred at all. Sure, the wind was a bit colder, and the temperatures were a bit lower, but the city overseer made sure that none of the chill and snow that had been present elsewhere. Even Dallion’s own village further south had experienced a far harsher winter. All that was in the past, though, for now spring had begun bringing with it warmth, harvest, and a whole lot of magical creatures, not all of them merely mischievous.

The city offered a vast range of inns, taverns, and food stalls for awakened and ordinary people alike. Still, there was one particular place that Dallion liked to pass by each time he had the chance. If circumstances permitted, he’d go there every day, but the innkeeper and Euryale didn’t get along well at all. As a compromise, Dallion would pass by, have a bite, and take several large portions home. The innkeeper would pretend that she didn’t know who they were going to, and Euryale would pretend that she had no idea where Dallion had gotten them from. It was a weird arrangement, especially since both women were quite logical when it came to pretty much everything else. Despite that, the food was worth the minor inconvenience.

The Gremlin’s Timepiece was one of those inns that people usually didn’t notice due to how good it really was. It wasn’t at all flashy, located in an ordinary neighborhood, twenty minutes’ walk from the nearest city gate. Only the local regulars and those who’d have the chance to stay there during the festival knew what a gem it really was, more specifically, the food.

Two dozen steps away, Dallion could smell the fine aromas coming from within. He had no idea what the exact recipe was, but instantly recognized it as an Aspan original. A smile on face, went to the entrance and walked inside. As usual, there were half a dozen regulars there. Each of them waved to Dallion as he made his way to the bar. There was a time when he had worked here, though that was before some of the large transformations had taken place.

“So, you’re back,” the innkeeper said with a grumble as she slid an empty mug along the counter in Dallion’s direction. Tall, red-haired, and with an attitude that could crush stone through sheer will alone, the woman was known for several things, chief of which was her grumpy attitude and always finding a way to remain in the black.

“Nice to see you, Hannah,” he greeted. “Something needs improving?” he looked at the mug.

“Don’t get mouthy with me!” she slid a bottle of glowing amber liquid. “One of my regulars was short on coin, so he gave me this to make up for the difference. Supposed to be some exotic fruit from somewhere. No one can afford a cup, so you’re buying the whole thing!”

“Sure.” After all the favors she had done to Dallion, he couldn’t refuse, not to mention that money wasn’t an issue right now. Without asking, he emptied half the pouch he got from his last job. Eighteen gold coins rolled out. “Enough?”

The innkeeper didn’t say a thing, instead collecting the coins with one swift action.

One of these days I’ll figure out if you’re an awakened, Dallion told himself. “I’m here to see Aspan.”

“He’s busy right now. Wait until dinner is over. You can see him then.”

Dallion looked around.

“Dinner doesn’t start in a few hours.”

“That’s right.”

So, that was it. He could tell she wasn’t upset with him, thanks to his music skills, and still there was a distinct sound of determination coming from her.

“I’ve already prepared a table,” the woman said with another grumble. “Have a drink of that stuff. You’ve already paid for it.”

“And offer you a drink as well, I guess?” Dallion grabbed hold of the cork.

“No. I need to be sober for what I’m about to ask.”