Only after leveling up his Bardiche skill did Eric finally take a break, sitting his ass down right there by the pel and power napping for who knew how many hours before getting up with a groan, stretching, and carefully reviewing everything he had learned using both bardiches and his saber, now sensing more clearly than ever what he had been doing wrong before.

And taking a break only to hit the weights, making maximum use of his natural regeneration, and stuff himself on Alice's fantastic cooking, he went right back outside and began training once more, eager to solidify his insights and consolidate his gains as best he could.

“You ready for some sparring?”

A panting Eric paused in his training, catching sight of a grinning Drake now holding a pair of training staves carefully curved and covered in rubber a full third of the length, complete with hollowed areas to allow for gripping the shaft, mirroring the weapon they had used before as close as possible without actually being wood and steel.

"Sure!" Eric said, eager to see just how far he had progressed with his war blade… only to be put in his place faster and harder than he had with Louie.

“Not surprising,” Drake said with a laugh. “Your absurd Finesse and skill with the spear let you keep distance, at least until Louie traps your spear… I mean bardiche blade with his own, and closes for the kill. With me, you have nowhere to go, and our weapons are of a size and style that makes my Strength advantage tough to overcome.”

Eric could only shake his head ruefully. “You’re so strong, and your physique makes you so fast with that blade moving like a feather in your hands. I’m going to have to get a hell of a lot better, or boost up my Strength something fierce, before I can take you on with any chance of winning.” He flashed a brilliant smile. “Which is great, because I couldn’t ask for a better training partner than one who can both beat me silly and is willing to teach me, pushing me to excel as much as I possibly can.”

Drake grinned but didn't argue the point. "There's a hell of a lot to be said for maxing Strength, Eric. It's comprehensive enough to include at least a degree of stamina, so a heavy blade feels light in your hands, and your movements with pretty much any weapon heavier than a fencing rapier are far quicker than they would otherwise be. You're also hitting a hell of a lot harder, and it's a lot less exhausting swinging it around."

Eric sighed and nodded. “You’re 100% right. Sometimes I think that if I had just shifted focus...”

"You might already be dead? Because there's no point in playing what-if, when none of us know what the fuck the future holds."

Eric laughed. “Yeah, that might be true. Still, I think I know where my next level’s points are going.”

"Right on! But you might want to keep your boost to two points per level. More than that, and you'll be ravenous for several days. Definitely not a good look, if we're in the middle of a mission."

“I had wondered about that,” Eric said, before his weapon was twisted out of his hand, and he found himself with a bardiche war blade at his throat, held by a grimly smiling Drake, who then helped him back to his feet.

“Alright, Eric. Let's go over that one more time."

And Eric gamely did so, again and again. Until even Drake grew tired and called it a day, at which point Eric switched to pel practice, finally getting the hang of the deadly series of cleaving cuts and gut-ripping slashes that made the weapon style so deadly as he spun his weapon in tight moulinets.

He savored his growing mastery over those bardiches as one day bled into the next, and rapid mastery over the pels was mirrored only slightly by how long he lasted against the pair vastly more experienced than him.

At least the compound bow was coming so naturally to him that using it against the sandbags was almost a meditative break between sparring sessions and weight lifting.

He enjoyed the feel of pulling his bowstring back with a three-fingered shooting stance, thumb always level with the back of his jaw for a consistent draw length as he sighted his target and released, watching his arrow zip to its destination before plunging into the circled sandbags. And for all that it lacked the satisfying kick and near-instantaneous smack of crossbow bolts streaking through the air to their target so fast Eric could only now catch sight of their streaking forms. There was a meditative zen to the bow that left Eric feeling quite refreshed and far warmer towards classic archery than he had ever felt before.

Enough so that he smiled in genuine pleasure when a lizard vest wearing Jeffrey popped by with a grin, right before unsheathing and shooting his bow in one smooth motion so fast Eric whistled, his arrow thwacking into the target with surprising force.

A perfect bull’s eye.

Eric couldn’t help turning around and grinning at the smiling man.

“Nice vest,” he said, and it was true. The rawhide clad Vincent looked pretty sweet in his vest of glossy lizard scales, including a collar he could pull up and tie at will, effectively acting like a gorget at need, besides being a stylish addition to the tailoring.

The Harvester winked. “Damn right. And don’t think that I don’t appreciate it, Eric.” He turned to gaze with a fond sort of bemusement at the surprisingly well-constructed house that was almost, but not quite, a respectable pad. Much like the crew within. “So, how’s life with our local don?”

Eric smirked. “I don’t know about that, but life’s good! They treat me well, and we train pretty much every day.”

Jeff nodded. “They’re pretty skilled with their polearms, but it looks like your pel has seen better days.”

Eric winced and chuckled softly, because that was definitely true. The poor pell had been so badly ripped and scarred, despite wearing nearly all of his rat hides, that Eric now had to work to avoid ripping the whole thing open to worthlessness with his cuts. Which was a problem, because feeling the need to pull his blows was just the urge he needed to suppress, if he wanted to maximize just how deadly he was with all his toys.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Jeffrey nodded. “May I?”

Eric gave a curious nod, not quite sure what Jeff was up to, eyes widening in no small amount of surprise when the man pulled out a punching bag shaped cover of scales for his pel.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me slide this on?”

Eric blinked, quickly nodded, and did just that.

The hunter nodded in satisfaction. “That will serve as the undergarmet. It will keep the pell innards from deteriorating, because if you can cut through that, you've mastered the art of the draw cut, that's for damn sure. Now, for some material you can actually cut through. But it's tougher than rhino hide—don't ask how I know that—so don't think it will be easy, even for you."

And a bemused Eric soon found himself fitting not only an incredibly tough, thick canvas of rawhide to his pell, but an overcoat of fur as well.

“There,” Jeffrey smirked. “Fur, lacquered monster hide boiled in glue, and quarrel stopping lizard hide. Three layers that will put even your curious obsessions to the test.”

Eric bowed his head in sincere gratitude. "Thanks, Jeff. I'm touched."

The man laughed. “Hell, thank Hobbs. He actually feels guilty that you guys gave him an absolute fortune in crafting gear that’s skyrocketing his crafting class, and our leatherworker’s all about the extras. Our smith friend is adamant he’s already doing right by you guys, however, and I can tell you just from my vest, their first piece with the lightest scales, that he’s right. Let me show you something?”

And within minutes, a bemused Eric found himself aiming for a sandbag covered in Jeffrey's vest, holding a yew longbow at full extension, arrow knocked, with at least a hundred pound draw weight, as Jeff subtly adjusted his stance and balance.

“There. Good! So how are you feeling?”

And much to Eric's surprise, despite the burn in his muscles, the slight tremble in his grip, he felt fine. Because in a sense, all this was was another workout to push himself, with a Perception and Finesse now far closer to Olympian than high-school athlete, and whatever issues his mother's obsessive trainer had planted in his head, without Vincent going red-faced with contempt for his abysmal shooting skills, saying he was an insult to his ancestors, he found he almost didn't mind the dreaded longbow at all.

“I’m feeling okay, except for the fact that the tension increased, as opposed to easing to nothing like with the composite bow at maximum extension. But you know what? I don’t feel half bad. Even without the sight nook.”

Vincent nodded in approval. "Good. That's what I wanted to hear. Because if you're looking to truly push yourself as an archer… and I think you know exactly what I mean, Eric, you need to go beyond bows that are mechanically leveraged to within an inch of their life, more similar to crossbows than not, and lacking the spiritual connection to twenty thousand years or more of wild survival that the longbow in your hand holds."

Eric's eyes widened as his bow trembled with his shiver. Because he was suddenly certain that Vincent was absolutely right. In a world where magic was real, where there was a spiritual connection to the world around him, where existence wasn’t limited entirely by the universal constants that had all but defined it just a handful of months ago… yeah. It made perfect sense that if he truly wanted to master the bow, he’d best use the ones that had thousands of years of history to resonate with his interface and lock himself yet another awesome skill.

And if he was really lucky, it was different enough from crossbow archery that he could boost his stats once more. Maybe.

A guy could hope, anyway.

Vincent's eyes twinkled, as if sensing Eric's insight. "Alright, you've held it steady long enough that I know you have the Strength to make this bow your own. Now release."

And Eric did just that, eyes widening with something close to awe at how naturally the arrow flew from his bow… streaking every bit as fast as his compound shots had, but somehow with a little something more.

Jeffrey frowned. "Another. This time, aim a hair higher."

Eric nodded and did just that.

“Good. Now hold your breath when your lungs fill to this point,” he said, tapping Eric’s chest on the inhale. “Excellent. Now focus, and release.”

And when he let the arrow fly now, it struck the vest dead center.

Jeffrey gave a satisfied nod. “I think you got this, Eric. Hold these?” He then handed Eric a quiver of what must have been 30 long broadhead arrows specifically fletched for the bow in his hand.

Eric swallowed, touched by the enormity of the gift as the man picked up and redonned his vest. “Jeffrey, I...”

The man smiled in satisfaction. "And not a scratch on it. You know what I think? whatever their protestations, those boys are already infusing magic into their creations. I guess that's the perk of gaining Adept Tier Professions. And I should know."

There was so much Eric wanted to say to that, but all he said was, “Jeff, seriously, I’m grateful. But...are you sure?”

The man clapped Eric on the shoulder. "One of these days, this vest is going to save my life. I figure giving you my second favorite bow is just a way of paying it forward, so I'm not trying to hunt you down to repay my debt.”

He chuckled at Eric's expression. "Relax, boy. It's just nice to see a fellow archer. Even if you're just in it for the points. Hell, I was thinking the same thing, even going so far as to consider purchasing one of those over-mechanized crossbows, but Velvet was just telling me how some madman of an adventurer already cleaned him out of his entire stock."

He chuckled softly at Eric’s expression. “I’m kidding, son. Besides. If you think two points is a nice boon once you break through to double digits and hit Journeyman skill ranks, wait till you hit Adept tier!”

Eric’s eyes widened with admiration, though he thought it wise to say nothing of his own three point gains. “Shit, Sam, what happens at Adept tier?”

"No idea," the man said with a laugh. "But I aim to find out. In the meantime, isn't it sweet knowing a Journeyman's floor is now an Olympian's ceiling? So long as we have the stats to match, of course.”

With a final grin and clap on the shoulder, Jeff headed out, and Eric couldn’t help but wave and shout his thanks, overjoyed with the gift almost as much as he was at dispelling an old hangup that now no longer held any power over him as he practiced with that sweet hundred pound draw weight bow and slowly, steadily, grew to understand its quirks and strengths, doing his best to make it his own.

He waited until he was finally ready to crash before checking his interface and savoring just how far he had come already, and in only a handful of days, which left him all the more determined to push himself in the days to come.

You have improved your Strength stat to 14 + 25%!

Bardiche (Glaive) is now at Rank 7!

Bardiche (War Blade) is now at Rank 7!

(Yew Longbow) has been successfully integrated at Rank 5!