Mythshaper
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B2 Chapter 11: Preparation
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 22:05:04 +0000 UTCA/N: 3.5k words. I dream of the day I can casually drop behemoths like Pirateba and Rhoden.
The next one will probably be as long, then a short interlude, before finally we enter the stage at Klearon. Things will move faster in this volume, though there will be some family moments.
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Chapter 11: Preparation
In the morning following my advancement, my parents and I sat down once again to come up with plans to help me prepare for the provincial contest. After learning about my intention, we all agreed on a few facets of my training which would bring out the optimum result.
First was getting used to the freshly formed essence threads. Thankfully, they were not actually new threads, or their efficiency would have been only a fraction compared to the older ones. Relics had the capacity to adjust their power according to their wielder. The essence threads within it were all from Mum; needless to say, they were of the ascended rank—something beyond my power to wield. Even so, the amount of essence they could handle was vastly greater than my regular threads. However, there was still a consideration for efficiency, and what better way to train it than weaving duels against Mum?
A couple of half-hour sessions for fifteen days would be enough to get me into the groove. Which brought us to another facet of my training: crafting.
Having reached Journeyman rank, I had barely touched on advanced artificing. Before the tournament, it was time to tighten my grasp over it. According to Mum, it was not unusual for some generational talent to turn up for the provincial contest every once in a while.
Yet for most of the days, my crafting training only revolved around designing. Mum introduced a vast number of articles, be it from simple bowls, various ornaments, to intricate musical instruments. Only when I faced a problem did she push me to craft them, as that would allow me to look at the potential fabricator from different angles.
The only good thing that came out of the demon incursion was the raw materials they had left behind. Now, the skeletons of common devourers amounted to little, but those of the elite ones were good enough for prestigious-class fabricators after refining, whereas anything from the Ashhound—be it their bones, blood, scales, core, or other magical organs—were the top material for artificing and alchemy. And my parents got the lion’s share of the materials, being the prime offenders in stopping the greater demons.
While I practised, Mum had them all refined and stocked into the workshop. It could not have been any more crammed—so much so that Mum had donated many of the materials to help rebuild the town. The Empire did allocate a sum to assist the reconstruction, but that amount was measly compared to what the people had lost.
One evening, I caught Mum dabbling in a design of her own, having the Dawn essence core set on the table. She was too invested in the design to notice me coming.
“Is that for the new artefact?” I asked, peeking at the stacks of parchments filled with intricate designs.
Mum did not answer immediately. She glanced between me and the papers, considering. “Can’t make up my mind on one,” she said. “Look for yourself. Tell me if you fancy any of them.”
I took hold of a few of the designs, though my eyes darted to the marble brimming with dawn essence. Despite more than half of its essence threads being lost, she had restored it to the best of her ability—enough to make it the heart of the artefact.
“Mum,” I said tentatively, “I don’t think I need another artefact right away.”
“You do, sweetheart. Thinking of the wound you got from the corpse fly, I cannot, for the life of me, leave you unprotected against something like that again.”
“But I have [Vigil of Protection],” I countered.
“You do, but it cannot heal you, can it?”
But there wouldn’t be any need for healing if nothing could break through its defence. I did not say that aloud, thinking of what had happened against the corpse flies.
“If you’re making a healing artefact,” I said instead, “I think Father needs it more than me.”
That stopped her for a moment, but she soon shook her head. “Dawn essence cannot help with the wound he’s gotten.”
“But it will help with all the wounds he’ll get.” I crept near her, waking [Vigil of Protection] on my wrist. “Mum, I’m not going to throw myself at demons at the next chance I get.” I showed her the gleaming relic. “The bracelet will protect me forever.”
She stared at me, a voluntary sigh escaping her lips. “I didn’t think you could convince me.”
I didn’t either, at least not with so few words. I was prepared to go further, but I guessed she saw the reason.
“So what do you think will suit Father?”
Mum considered the stacks of designs. “It’s not all about suiting,” she said. “If it were, I’d have half my job complete. We need to come up with something small that will stay out of the way of his aura; else, even with an artefact’s durability, it would not last long.”
“So something like my bracelet.”
Mum agreed. “But not something to place on the wrist.”
That was evident, with most of Father’s aura being charged from his arms. “A pendant, perhaps,” I said, “or earrings.”
“Earrings will be difficult with their tiny form factor.”
“But not impossible.”
“Very few things are, Pumpkin,” Mum said, tousling my hair. “Most times, it’s only a matter of convenience. Regardless, the dawn seed still needs some rare ingredients for it to function properly, even if I can sort out an alchemist quickly.”
Apparently, most essence seeds lost their connection to the Aether once the awakened died, and that had been the case with the one the Legatus offered us. To repair the link, an alchemist needed to garnish it with some extremely rare materials—things that were not usually up for sale in stores.
"Let's keep it all a secret from your Father until then."
She stole the words right out of my mouth. It would be another debacle convincing him to have the dawn seed, as I was quite sure he'd be adamant about either me or Mum having it.
Anyway, onto the final portion of my preparation: combat practice.
Father helped in all the ways he could, but there was no way I could surmount him in a duel. Thus, I returned to battle someone of my class. Delric had been my usual sparring partner before and had helped a lot in refining my swordsmanship. However, I had another interest in battling him beyond further improving myself. Delric had participated in the provincial tournament a couple of years ago. Of course, he did not win it, but he had gotten to the final round—into the top eight—from where he earned his chance to squire under a knight.
Yes, it did not pan out, but none could spit at his accomplishment. It was almost unheard of that someone without any support, and from an unknown town, had gotten as far as he did.
I had never been able to defeat him before, but a lot of things had changed since then. For starters, I had also reached Noble class. True, he was still a few steps beyond me on the path, but I had advantages he never had.
We stood facing each other in the familiar field, obscured by the shifting mist, divided only by twenty paces. A dozen sword strings pointed from his sword. Half of them were defensive, waiting for me to make a move. The other half targeted many of my organs. They shifted and readjusted as I deviated from my usual form.
"Are they going to stare at one another all day?" Prium complained.
"Shh." Eran pressed his finger to his lips. His father stood behind him, flanked by my own. They stood in silence, eyes observing intently. Only they could glimpse the invisible contest between Delric and me.
It had been a minute or so since our duel had begun, and since then neither of us had made a move yet. Well, at least not a genuine one. Both our sword senses were clashing against each other from the beginning, shifting and adjusting to each other's forms. But that was all within sword sense. Although the sensory ability was great, it could not predict victory, not where we were at.
I struck first. I began slow, without activating my boots or any other abilities. Even so, my body sprang forward, and the sword in my right hand came down in a swift and crashing blow. Delric parried it with ease and made a move of his own. My blade fell to defend. Mist swirled about our blades as they met half a dozen times in a quick exchange before both of us withdrew a few steps.
Our sword senses barely acclimatised before we lunged at each other again, swords falling into the same moves, each trying to outdo the other. Delric concentrated on his area of attack. From dozens of options, he opened himself to a mere three or four.
At first, we were evenly matched. On multiple occasions, our sword senses cut at each other before our blades crashed, echoing metallic clangs through the drifting mist. Neither of us managed to earn a point—not for lack of trying, however. Yes, I was tentative at first, measuring him, and to my surprise, Delric was doing the same. However, once the caution wore off, my sparring partner thrust at full force.
I had no choice but to use the levitation boots. It was unfair that Delric did not have access to such fabricators, but he had also taken more steps along the path—only a couple away from reaching Prestigious class. There was hardly a way to make the duel fair.
Delric's speed and aura rose to match my pace. In quick succession, we both earned a couple of points. He somehow managed to break through my defence to strike at my right shoulder, whereas I landed a blow on his lower body. I was chancing a returning slash when a sword string dyed red pointed towards my torso. It shifted some more, locking onto my heart.
Haste flared from the rune imprint I had saved up in my prime seed. Before an eye could blink, I ducked under the blade that followed the dyed string. Delric had invested his hundred per cent in that swing. Once his sword failed to strike true, he was wide open. Before I could decide on the move, my foot moved on its own, shifting into the third stance of Whispering Gale. A blade came with a gashing wind, striking low to high, straight across his chest.
“Three points to Arilyn,” Uncle Dalin called.
5–2, then.
Since I had already begun showing my cards, there was no point hiding them anymore. I shot forward, the haste in my boots and the rune imprint on my body allowing me to move several times faster than my usual speed. Delric’s eyes narrowed as he quickly shifted to Walking Mountain. He managed to parry the first strike. He blocked the second. Then I appeared behind him before his eyes could track me. His sword sense perhaps could, but his body failed to defend against the blade from striking his back.
Two more points—but there were more to be earned.
Delric was thrown off, though not injured at all. We were allowed to empower our bodies with aura, but not imbue aura into our weapons. Even so, the blades were sharper than any common sword you could find and could penetrate flimsy aura defences with ease. Thankfully, Delric's aura mastery was enough to obstruct a full strike, despite being flung away. I chased after him, striking fast and true, gaining another point, bringing the tally to 8–2 in my favour.
All that short exchange barely cost two series of Haste runes. A cheap price, to be honest.
Finally, Delric seemed to wake up and made his move. The way I was going, he knew he could not win if he only defended. In all our battles before, he had been the one to hold the reins; however, here I had overthrown that hierarchy completely. If Delric could not take back the reins, he was defeated already.
For the next few exchanges, he tried to wear me down. He knew I’d run out of rune imprints, and my stamina could not compare to his. His sword plunged at a berserk pace, his body moving erratically. It was almost akin to Father when he was fighting the Ashhounds. Even though he could only imitate the force of nature my father way, I had to put my everything to dodge and parry his sword as he led me backwards. It did not take him long to find a weakness in my defence. Striking once, Delric was ready to press further, seemingly having forgotten about my most powerful weapon.
My essence flared in an explosion of wind, flinging him off. His sword sense cried in alarm, but there was no escape as the wind rose from all directions.
"So you are using shaping, then," he said, eyes locked onto mine.
"I never said I wouldn't."
After all, this was preparation for the provincial tournament. I would have to use everything in my arsenal to fight against those who outstripped me in raw power. Father was adamant about having me develop a style of my own that gathered all the facets of my abilities—be it shaping, runes, aura, or swordsmanship. It might not sound like much, but in the heat of battle, when I only had a fraction of a moment to decide the optimum solution among a multitude of options, my default approach was to go for all four at once.
I had quite a sharp battle instinct despite still being inexperienced, but that was mostly when I was dealing with one thing. Fill me with four, and you’d have a clusterfuck of inefficiency.
The Arnean swordsmanship had been drilled well into my muscle memory. However, I did not have much experience with my essence or aura. The psyche could be trained in a similar way to muscle memory, where my aura or essence acted on its own at particular cues. So far, it only reacted to mortal threats. Even then, it was awful—almost as instinctive and useless as closing my eyelids involuntarily when someone came swinging his fist at my face.
Now I could keep my eyes open forever, but I had been told training the psyche was a lot harder than that, more so with aura. Auric force could be wilder than essence. Essence was a borrowed power from the spiritual realm, whereas aura was a part of me. So, despite having access to essence for a longer time, if my life was at stake, my aura would flare first every time. While that sounded good and all, that burst of aura was hardly ever concentrated. It might defend against flimsy attacks, but I was a corpse against a skilled opponent.
Sword forging helped with that. It trained my psyche to act according to a razor’s edge. [Vigil of Protection] could defend me at all times, but that would only count in real battles. The provincial tournament had a multitude of rules and regulations to account for relics. I had barely wrapped my head around them and had learned that they were all subject to change.
The only way to rise above them was to have no weakness.
Delric was resilient, all right. Although his gift was not anything marvellous, it gave him unmatched stamina on top of his already superior physical attributes. He could try to wear me away all he wanted, but there was no way I was giving him easy points today.
With my shaping, I kept his sword sense distracted most of the time. Once his sword sense became obsolete, I made my moves, impressing with the Sword Unities, where the blade fell as swift as wind in one move and cut like water in the next. With all the distractions, I managed to hide my true intention with the blade and feinted to make a move on Delric's back once again. He had a particular weakness there—if I moved low and swiftly, Delric could not bring himself into position in time to defend.
Gaining the upper hand, I did not hesitate. I dealt two quick slashes, biting into his aura enforcement.
To Delric, it was as though he were fighting against an Awakened who was both a shaper and an augmenter. Coupled with the trouble he’d been having with his swordsmanship these days, he did not stand a chance.
He did manage to exhaust all my rune imprints, but by then the duel was in its final stage, and he was trailing behind by five points.
Frustrated, Delric poured everything he had into making a quick comeback. He earned a point, slashing at my thigh. Unfortunately for him, that also pushed him into a trap I had set for him. The result did not disappoint me.
[Way of Sword Sense I (100/100) is complete.]
[+2 Enhanced Aura.]
[Way of Sword Sense II (100/250) is available.]
"I thought the battle would be more challenging," Prium muttered.
Truth be told, I had thought so as well. The duel ended twelve to seven in my favour. Before my advancement, that tally had usually been the same—but in Delric’s favour. It was quite an improvement, perhaps even alarming to my opponent, as evident by Delric’s defeated posture.
Of course, I was delighted to win for the first time, but the duel also let me see the areas I could improve upon. It reminded me of the phrase that an elite shaper was equal to a group of augmenters. I guessed I was beginning to see the truth in it, despite not using much of my shaping capabilities.
My friends congratulated me while I snuck a glance at Delric. He had his shoulders slumped, jaw clenching and unclenching as he gazed up at his shaking palm.
Then he smiled towards me. "I guess a trophy is due."
"There's still some way to go," I mumbled.
Delric nodded. "You have changed your approach to battle," he said. "Before, you were more meticulous, watching for errors in your opponent's moves to capitalise on them. But now you are pushing me to make the wrong choices. And Solas help me, I made so many of them in this duel."
Well, I did make a conscious choice, though I wouldn't say it was a complete one-eighty to my approach. Before, I did wait for my opponents to make a mistake, but that was because they were far stronger than I was. And I was training my sword sense.
"I would have chanced a rematch, but I have to get home and prepare," Delric said. "Tullia will kill me if I come to the ceremony looking like a bum. Save a date for another day."
“Anytime,” I replied, then finally turned to Father. "How did I do?"
"As well as I thought you would," he said.
I blinked. That sounded like praise? Well, considering even I did not think I’d get a win with such a gulf between our scores. That did not mean I had thoroughly overpowered Delric—he had his fair shots at me a few times.
"You know, in a real fight,” Father said, “it won’t be quite like this.”
“I know.” In a real fight, we would not watch out for each other. There were multiple chances in the duel where we could have wounded one another, and in a real conflict, the one wounded first was usually the one defeated as well.
“I don’t think you quite do,” Father laughed. “In a real battle, you’ll kill twice over, and Delric still would find a way to penetrate [Vigil of Protection].”
I blinked. That thought had not surfaced in my mind at all.
“And you also hadn’t cast any powerful shaping at all.”
That was something I had thought about and had voluntarily restricted myself to using only as a last resort. Because a full-powered wind blade or fire arrow could wound Delric severely, despite his Uncommon Constitution and aura defence. Whereas he would not fare any better than the devourers against a fire harpoon.
“I have too many advantages over him,” I sighed.
“Then let’s fight against someone you have no advantage over,” Father grinned.
I snorted, though I did not waste a moment before hurtling at him. Finally, finishing the session with sword forging, I turned towards our bath with Eran for relaxing body forging.
Eran had drunk an essence tonic a couple of days ago and now stood at the fifth step of Common class. His swordsmanship had also improved remarkably, but alas, his actual power had not developed enough yet for him to have a real shot at the tournament. Thankfully, there was still next year for him—and even for me, if I somehow floundered there.
Comments
ThoMiCroN
Prium->Priam*
Stephen Pearson
Thanks for the chapter! :-)
