Maou Razonica
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Chapter 17: Furious Attack!
🕑 Added 2024-05-18 13:01:15 +0000 UTCI found myself back at the orphanage after Mom and Dad dropped me off to play. They didn’t want to risk me going out on my own for the time being because things were tense around town. Sentiment about the inhex reached an all-time low, which just exacerbated the problem of people provoking them into acting. Thankfully, there were only a meager few passing through town, and they would be gone soon… sent off to die in a war that they wanted no part of.
I’d had a lot of time to think about that, following the incident. I was pissed at having almost died, of course. But I was always aware that I would’ve lashed out far sooner than most of them, put in the same position. It was always the slaver at fault, not the enslaved. Someday, I would be powerful enough to destroy this paradigm.
“Aaahhh!! Noo! The Inhex has got me!” My thoughts were wrenched towards the kids playing on the playground. It was typically a fun sight, but today I found their method of play to be a tad distasteful.
“Rawrr! I eat you!!” Angerly roared, poorly pretending to be an inhex. The ogre girl held onto the boy that she’d caught, pretending to eat him.
“Run! Run away from the inhex!”
“Aaahhh!!”
“They will get youuu!!!”
I really didn’t want to ruin their fun, they were just kids who didn’t know better and anything I did here wouldn’t really have an impact when it was the entire town that thought this way, perhaps even beyond. But, I had to… I wanted to do something, even if it were just to appease my own ego. Because this situation bothered me, and I’d be damned if I did nothing about it!
“Hey!” I shouted at them, a bit of anger leaking in my tone. I masked it as confidence and dominance. “Let me play as the inhex next!”
They looked towards each other, and it was Angerly who readily agreed to my plan.
“Okay! You are inhex now!” She scooted forward so she was right next to me. “Haell, right? I’m Angerly!”
I looked up at the girl who was supposed to be my age, but was already as tall as a high-schooler.
“Yep. That’s me! Now scram before I, an inhex, gets you!”
The other children took that as their cue, and I began prowling for my hunt. My face contorted in an expression of anger and grief, a deep weariness that settled into my exoskeleton.
“You took her…” my voice came out as a rasp. “My queen. Our mother. You took her from our home and imprisoned her!”
I caught an ishkawtan girl, and lacerated her body with my front legs, sharp like a lance.
“Gurk!” She hugged her hand to her body and fell.
I continued, “You take her hostage so that we will listen. You force us from our homes to fight your battles!”
I feinted many times over, and caught a centaur boy younger than I. We collapsed in a heap, and I cut apart his body with my inhex wiles.
“You enslave us! You ridicule us! You humiliate us for your pleasure!”
I caught up to Angerly who was still laughing from our play, but there was a hint of dread now in the atmosphere. Everyone was trying their hardest to ignore it.
“And yet it is our fault, when we fight back for even a fraction of the harm you’ve done!?” I caught her by the foot, and the ogre girl fell in a largely exaggerated manner. “You treat us as tools of war, yet lament when the blade is pointed at your own!?”
“How about you free us then!!” I screamed as I chased the remaining children. “Let our queen go! Quit using us as hostages against each other!”
One by one, I caught and brutalized all of my opponents. “Give us back our empire. Give us back our continent. Give us back our life!”
The final person to fall was Moonwash, who did participate in the game, but just hang back for the majority of it.
“I would if I could,” she said, with an uncharacteristic somber. Her expression remained neutral and devoid of emotion, but her presence seemed to radiate with sorrow.
I blinked, and got off her.
Moonwash dusted herself off, and sat on a nearby table. I found myself joining her, in absence of anything else to do. The other kids were already huddling together again, talking about who the next inhex should be. I didn’t know how many of them actually got the message, or if they thought I was just playing like them.
“Describe to me what an inhex looks like,” Moonwash commanded. It took me a few seconds to process that.
She wanted to make a drawing of them, it seemed. So I talked about the experience I had a few days prior. I emphasized how a whole crowd provoked an inhex man into action, and I described in great detail the sickening grin on the soldier’s face who started it all. They were doing it on purpose, they wanted the inhex to slip up, meanwhile, they were just trying their damn hardest.
Moonwash kept quiet all throughout my tale. She barely even met my eyes. I would’ve thought she wasn’t listening, except her hands worked rapidly throughout the entire time I was talking. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and waited, allowing hours to pass as I just watched her whole process. In the end, she came up with a masterpiece, a struggle between an inhex that conveyed such sorrow and his wide movements, and a human soldier who met him with her blade, trailed by a legion of fanatical and unthinking supporters.
“It’s amazing.”
“Yes.”
I chuckled at Moonwash’s bluntness.
“Can we be friends?” I asked, feeling an uncharacteristic knot in my heart. I… felt envious of her talents once, but now all I saw was a girl that I desperately wished to be my friend. It felt so stupid, how I almost lashed out before. I was both proud and glad that I did not.
“Yes,” Moonwash’s response was as curt as ever.
“So… we’re friends then?” I asked to confirm.
Her head turned towards me a fraction. “Of course.”
I hugged my new friend.
She returned it, and her longer arms wrapped around me.
~~~
There were so many injustices currently that just did not sit right with me, but I could do nothing about it, being as weak as I was. I wished to become stronger, so I reapplied myself to my training. I worked further on the sword, while simultaneously having to dodge balls and pellets that randomly came my way.
Dad made sure to mix it up, and he increased the force and finesse of his throws as I got better at dodging. I was constantly kept on my toes, the next improvement always just a single step away.
One time, I managed to hit a moving pellet out of the way with my sword, and Dad had high praise for the maneuver. He was so impressed that he integrated it into my training, one where I didn't have to just hit the damn small things, but my strokes had to be in proper form.
Sometimes play was also integrated into my training, and my parents took me to the orphanage for a better environment. They insisted on escorting me there for months after the inhex incident was over and done with, and all of them had already left, but I hardly complained about it. It was, after all, nice to have Mom and Dad around.
I introduced the orphans to the game of dodgeball, and I immediately dominated from the first match. Not only were my Mutations more advanced than those my age, aside from those who were born stronger, but I also had the advantage of a whole different lifetime of memories. One where I had played the game plenty of times before, because I did love to move my body, and playing some sports casually was an enjoyable use of my time.
I always managed to rope my friends into it, even the ones who were more the indoors type. That streak did not stop another life later, as I managed to drag Moonwash out for some games. She was terrible at it, as to be expected, but I could tell that she did have fun.
…I'll also admit that I got at least a little bit of enjoyment from seeing her fail for once. But we were friends, and it’s all in good fun!
The rules were altered as we played more games over the coming months, until I was surrounded on all sides by the other children, armed with not just one, but dozens of projectiles. It was intense having to dodge and keep track of them all, and it was too much even for me… at first. I learned very quickly, with my mind brought well past the human standard because of my Reincarnator Soul Feat, not to mention the improvements afforded by my now Level 4 Flutter Feet.
I became a master at dodging, just as the other children too became better at their aim. It really felt like we were pulling each other up.
Eventually, they did learn to just overwhelm me all at once, leaving no room to dodge no matter what I did. I pouted for a little while, a few days at most, but I got over it and offered to play a different game. This time we all had full freedom of motion as we played dodge tag, where everyone else was 'it' and the way to tag me was by hitting me with one of the only handful balls afforded for the game. Chasing me down to hit me with it was a valid tactic.
This again was a learning curve, but it was something that really paid dividends for my training. I became much better at tracking multiple bodies in motion, imparting upon me some solid responses and instincts for combat situations.
Over a year of this passed, and only then did my dad deem me worthy of finally sparring. I was so excited when we faced each other off, our wooden swords held high.
The anticipation boiled over, and I immediately rushed off into battle…!
…I promptly got my ass handed to me.
I didn't know what else I was expecting, really. But I got back up, and sparred again. Dad switched from attacking, to defending, to meeting me in the middle, with a healthy dose of holding back.
I hammered myself against the indomitable wall that was father over and over, honing my technique further all the while. My pattern-recognizing brain really helped with this, helping me to improve rapidly. The other Piss Hunters also sparred with me, including Mom, whenever they were around. This gave me a more well-rounded education, and I learned of all the different styles of fighting. They weren't equally good, but they all at least knew how to handle something as fundamental as a sword. Add to that physiques that would literally be godlike back on Earth, and I never once managed a win, or even a proper hit! Grrr!!
Eventually, Dad reached a point where he started using feints, and I fell hook, line, and sinker for them.
My mind knew of the moves he was using, I'd learned and internalized the different patterns. That was why it was all the harder when my opponent deviated from those same pre-established patterns. My brain was doubly wired to recognize and react to them.
I had to relearn a lot of things, differentiate the real from the fake. It took a lot of work, and practice, and constant repetition, but that had always been the case. I continued to hone my instincts and my swordsmanship, until I came upon a new realization.
The feints were predictable, at least in a way, to a certain extent. They appeared in specific circumstances, in response to openings or lack thereof. I then extrapolated from that and saw all of swordplay as reactive to one's opponent. I could predict a lot of things based on the current state of battle, which I was already doing to a great extent, but I could take it further. I had to step back and take a look at the bigger picture, instead of being stuck in the moment while fighting.
I immediately used this new epiphany, and tried to build upon it. Results were of course not instant, it never was, but I managed to learn how to command the flow of battle and even use feints of my own. I allowed myself to be pushed back in order to bait my opponents into overextending, I pushed harder to get them to defend. And in those moments when we were in equilibrium, I made sure to keep a particular eye out for feints because that was where they were most common. I even made deliberate openings to get a predictable response.
These improvements resulted in myself almost getting a hit in multiple times, but by sheer physicality I was thwarted. My opponents were not just common adults, but some of the best fighters among them!
It was good that I had plenty of internal motivation because constantly losing could really get one down. Namely, power and demonhood. The two most important things.
~~~
My magic training naturally continued alongside physical combat. I loved magic after all, there was no way I'd ever let it go!
A lot of my time was spent honing my image for fire, and the image I imbued into my magic upon manifestation. This was because while I managed to get a really good result the first time I did it, it wasn't yet possible for me to do so consistently. Not to mention that it took a while to get the proper image, even when I did succeed. It was far from viable to use in actual combat.
And so I trained and trained until my personal understanding of fire deepened and seeped into my core, to where I could consistently call upon it at a moment's notice.
It took over a year of training, but I eventually graduated from using a practice wand to something more practical. A true wand that mages would use in war and battle.
My handling of mana improved by leaps and bounds through constant effort and practice. I learned a whole lot of new tricks, and I became able to wield a variety of elements other than fire. Not that I was very good at most of them, some because I did not have a good image to match, and others because I had trouble manipulating the consistency and innate characteristics of their mana, but it did not hurt to at least try. I wouldn't focus on the ones I wasn't amazing at, as I preferred to specialize, but knowing at least a little bit about the more common elements could be useful in the future.
I did a lot of exercises in regards to the mana replenishment loop, allowing the flames to burn at the maximum capacity it was able, all the while constantly replacing whatever amount of mana was consumed as fuel for the blaze. Later on I began to do this with distractions around me, such as dodgeball and other similar training methods. It was mostly my parents and the Piss Hunters doing it, as I got scolded when I tried to make a game of it with the kids in the orphanage. It was dangerous and I should have known better. Mom took away my wand privileges FOR AN ENTIRE DAY!
What I hated most was how sad she looked, when she barred me from the wand.
All in all, it was hard grueling work that culminated in me reaching the level of 9 with my brain at the young age of eight. At least two levels higher than my next best Mutation.
I was only 1 level away from a Level 10 Mutation. At that point I'd have the option of evolving the Mutation in order to advance it even higher, but I wasn't sure yet about what I wanted to do when the time came.
Well, I knew exactly what I wanted to happen. I wished to become a demon. That much was obvious.
But I still had no idea how to do that, only that my Mutations would very likely play a large role.
I needed to make more serious inquiries into the matter, and soon.
Comments
ZephanyZephZeph
Moonwash the little Wednesday of this story (I will keep making this comparison, pale as hell, shows little emotion, sense of justice but likes the macabre and is an autistic icon? With a name like Moonwash which is entirely different from everyone else's naming scheme? I can't help but see the similarities and I love that.)
