Battleforged
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Chapter 547 - Any time is sling time!
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 04:00:04 +0000 UTCEric gently tucked in a sleeping Maja as Hanna saw to Ella's comfort, a soft whimper slipping from her pressed lips before both girls eased
Eric gently tucked in a sleeping Maja as Hanna saw to Ella's comfort, a soft whimper slipping from her pressed lips before both girls eased into deeper sleep as Hanna sung a soft, motherly lullaby.
“Thank you,” she whispered once they stepped out of the girls' bedroom, squeezing Eric’s shoulder before blinking in surprise. “You are a strong one, aren’t you?”
Eric forced a chuckle. “Yeah… I’m not saying it was worth it, but my crooked path did give me some muscly muscles.”
“That it did. And you’re still vibrant with good health.” Her smile was sympathetic. “I’d say you quit at the perfect time. Your physical body is both strong and vital. Showing absolutely no signs of…” She shook her head. “Perhaps it’s youth’s natural glow infusing you and fighting off that which will eventually corrode. But with our morning meditation sessions soon to be your future, I think you’ll enjoy a ripe old age, nonetheless.”
Eric grinned. “I certainly hope so.”
Her gaze locked onto his own. “So long as you understand that, whatever your former path was… you dare not take another step along it.”
Eric shuddered despite himself. “Trust me. No one knows how damn close I came to…” He swallowed. “Yeah. I’m taking things slow and steady, from here on out.”
She smiled in approval. “A wise choice. Now let’s head up to your bedroom. There’s something I’d like to show you… Eric? What are you doing with the squash?”
Eric shrugged. “Well I should put the plants back first, right? After serving me so well, the least I can do is respect it enough to place the roots right where their happiest beside the corn.”
Hanna snorted. “Sure, Eric. You do that.”
He quickly returned to the garden, feeling more relieved than he cared to admit when the squash leaves and corn stalks both rustled happily as balance was restored. The beans didn’t do anything, of course. Just hanging around, as they always did.
Eric chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I’m definitely giving off faerie prince vibes, aren’t I? Time to blend in like every other teenager, which I guess I still technically am.”
With that resolution in mind Eric brushed off his shoes and left them on the patio steps before entering inside in his freshly purchased cotton socks, glad that 3000+ Vitality meant that his skin wasn’t irritated wearing new clothes without a double wash first. He grinned at the old memory as he made his way up polished wooden steps to the second floor, going down a hallway lined with pictures of Hanna and her family, his gentle smile turning pained when he saw the three figures he recognized joined by a smiling young man with his mother’s Han features and his father’s shaggy brown hair, just a year or so older than his sister.
Eric’s gut clenched, fearing the worst.
His smile was strained with sympathy and gratitude when he gently tapped on the door to the room he had woken up in, surprised to see Hanna finishing making his bed and giving a pleased nod before turning to Eric with warm twinkle in her eye.
“How’s the squash feeling, Eric?”
Eric grinned. “Very pleased. Their roots were tingling. There’s just the right ratio of alkalinity and moisture in the soil. The corn also rustled happily, and you know beans.”
“Ecstatic?”
“Lazy.”
This earned a snort. “You’re teasing me.”
Eric winked. “Who can say?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully, hands folded as she sat on his bed. “Eric, if there’s anything we should know about your dietary restrictions… if it makes you uncomfortable seeing us eat—”
Eric quickly shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Eat what you like! If farmers weren’t growing the plants or raising the livestock, they never would have been given life in the first place. If there was no profit in selling them, neither plant nor animal would have never existed in such abundant quantities. Instead, we’d have far sparser foliage that didn’t gather any Qi at all… and far less animals that had to constantly fear being eaten alive instead of enjoying a year or more of peaceful life before enduring just one bad day. A day that would be so much less awful, like turning off a light… than being hounded by nightmare predators before being eaten alive, squealing your last as wolves tear out your intestines. So… yeah. I’ve seen enough nature documentaries to know that farm animals, when properly raised in healthy outdoor environments, are often a hell of a lot better off than their wild counterparts.”
He flashed a nervous smile, realizing he was running at the mouth, some part of him fearing whatever Hanna clearly wanted to talk about. “But that’s just my take on things. Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. You could also just raise cows and chickens and enjoy all the egg and dairy protein you like, without killing anything at all. So I say, eat what makes you happy. Within reason.”
“Fair enough.” Hanna smile was oddly understanding, as if she saw right through Eric. And for all he knew, she probably did. God knew she was a far more attentive and devoted mother than—He killed the thought dead, refusing to dishonor the angel he loved with all his heart, or blame her for the broken state she had been in for so long, before finally being allowed to ascend with her firstborn children.
Eric would honor his birth mother with his love and forgiveness, even as he felt a touch of awe for a woman now before him, showing such concern for a damaged, headstrong wildcard she had only known for a couple of days.
The least he could do was be brave enough to face her questions… and answer honestly. Praying she wouldn’t ask questions that would reveal far too much.
“Thank you again for agreeing to let us host you,” she said gently. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have your help, to show Ella and Maja how much they mean to us, even if our languages are literal worlds apart.”
Eric couldn’t help but grin. “No problem,” he assured. “I truly am happy to help.”
“I can tell. And nothing speaks better of your character than that.” Her smile turned wistful as she gazed out the floor to sliding glass door opening up to veranda and steps that led directly to the rustling pear grove, just a short distance away. “I just wanted you to know, Eric, that as grateful as we are to have you in our lives… we respect what you’ve been through. We respect the fierce sense of independence that all but the most damaged survivors cultivate in their heart.”
Eric blinked in surprise when she gestured to the documents on the study desk… as well as the modest leather pouch filled with what could only be silver, the metallic tang hanging in the air as brightly as Hanna’s rich floral scent, and the sharp woodland breeze slipping through the open door.
“If you ever find yourself feeling restless, trapped, dizzy with the need to break free… you’re always welcome to slip outside and take a walk as long you like. Whether a few minutes or hours… or longer. As long as you need,” she assured with a smile. “We only ask for two things in return.”
Eric swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat. “What would that be?”
“Leave us a note, if you can. If we should expect you for dinner, breakfast, or at all.”
She sighed, giving him a wistful smile. “Of course, we truly hope you’ll choose to come back. To savor our meals and learn our ways… but we won’t force your hand. And the documents before you will assure that, should you choose your own path completely, you can find lawful work in the city. Or in one of the many thousands… millions of farms dotting the countryside. Though why you’d choose to work for strangers rather than be part of a family that would love and care for you… John and I both know that the choice has to be your own.”
Eric quickly nodded. “Of course.”
“Eric? There is one thing I pray you’ll take to heart.”
Eric winced at the change in inflection and tone as a mother’s tenderness turned to a warrior’s intensity.
“Yes?”
“No matter how bitter your grief, no matter how raw your wrath… no matter how strong you are, or think you are… you won’t use your bitterness as an excuse to lash out and destroy the lives of others. You won’t shatter what could have been, should have been, happy, loving families, filled with the hope and joy you and I and my children all deserve. I pray that you won’t betray our trust so utterly, so cruelly as to do that. Can you promise me that much, even if you were to take both papers and coin, slip out the door, and never look our way again? Can you at least promise John and I that NanDushi will never know the wrath of the bitter survivor we would have gladly welcomed into our home?”
Cheeks flushing, Eric bowed his head. “I would never let my grief, my anger spill over to casually hurt innocent people like the abominations that overran my world.” His fists clenched. “I’ll never coldly slaughter innocents like a fucking orc psychopath, Hanna. I can promise you that.”
“Good,” she said, steely features softening into a mother’s approving smile. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Now come. Let’s meet with Johnathon by the target range. You were good enough to sit through my morning meditation session, the least I can do is allow you a chance to spar with John and Louise while I watch over the girls.”
Eric stiffened at that. “Umm… honestly, I don’t feel up to sparring,” he said, earning a curious look from Hanna. “But I wouldn’t mind some friendly target practice! I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready for any sparring.”
Surprisingly, Hanna looked pleased by the answer. “And that’s totally fine. John might be a tad disappointed, but you three can bond quite well over missed shots without anyone getting a lump or bruise with overly enthusiastic sparring.”
The pair then slipped out the sliding glass door and down the balcony steps. Hanna quickly took him past the gardens to a well used woodland trail.
Eric smiled, enjoying the feel of dappled sunlight against his skin as a cool breeze rustled his locks, the air alive with the scents of forest loam and ripening pears.
Hanna gave him an approving nod. “I think walking through the forest suits you, Eric.”
Eric grinned, holding up his hand, palm high.
Perception check: Success! You understand the eager rustles of the trees all around you!
“It’s a beautiful pear grove,” he conceded, smirking at Hanna’s expression when he took a juicy bite of the pear that had just dropped into his hand.
“How?”
“Pure random coincidence, of course. Want one?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Sure, Eric. But pears don’t actually…” She blinked when three perfectly ripened pears slipped free of fruit-laden branches to plop right into Eric’s waiting hand. A hand that moved so gracefully with the catch that not a single one splattered or was even bruised.
He grinned at her expression when he handed her the trio. “For Louise and John.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh, running a farm will be so much fun with a faerie prince keeping all our arboreal charges in line!”
He winked. “Won’t it?”
Hanna’s bemused gaze then turned to a look of consternation. “Eric…”
“Yes?”
“Your fine hemp pants and those lovely leather slip-ons…”
“Yup. Beautiful clothing. Thank you again for the purchase.”
She gave him a look. “I can’t help but note that you’re now barefoot and wearing a piece of… blue-colored pants?”
Eric glanced down at himself, his fine cotton socks, leather shoes, and luxuriously soft and creamy pants replaced by an artifact forged in blood, sweat, the slaughter of countless foes, and shockingly intense amounts of hyperion radiation.
He nodded, lips curving in a relieved smile when he sensed absolutely no radiation or funky odor emanating from his favorite pants. Behaving just as artifacts of unknown power should.
“They’re called bluejeans. Or just jeans. Everyone knows what you mean, so long as you’re not talking to a geneticist.”
Hanna smirked. “I’ll pretend I understand what you mean by that. Do I even want to know how?”
Eric shrugged, before pointing at the clearing on the other side of the grove. “Ooh, looks like John and Louise are practicing already. Hopefully, they weren’t too bored waiting for us.”
He whistled while continuing the hike, enjoying the feel of soft forest loam between his toes, hearing the twang of a crossbow string and John’s quiet commendation as he slipped past the foliage to see an intently-focused Louise wearing leather gloves, a polymer breast plate strapped to a tightly cinched steel hauberk, and a high tech helmet with a crystal clear face plate that looked like something Eric might have plucked off a Bronze-tier mercenary, not that long ago.
Eric smiled in approval. Clearly John wasn’t worried about cultural emulation when it came to the safety of his daughter, especially when learning the ins and outs of the tools of war Eric now saw neatly displayed on a polished hardwood table. Everything from recurved bows to pilum to… “Wait, are you serious? He has a Mark-II Hyperion sniper rifle? And it works, here? How?”
He pretended he didn’t sense Hanna’s gaze turn sharp.
“You’re awfully well-informed, Eric.”
Eric flashed a cheeky smile. “You wouldn’t believe all the cool, high-tech gadgets they showed me while I was traveling between the stars, Hanna. Though I will say that learning about just how big and vast and developed the galaxy beyond my own planet was truly blew me away. And, yeah, it was a great distraction so I wouldn’t stress too much about…” He shrugged, turning to wave at John who tapped Loiuse’s shoulder. She immediately eased her finger off the multishot crossbow trigger and placed it on the shooting stand she was using.
“Looks like our newest addition’s finally arrived,” John said with an approving grin, kitted up in high tech polymers, steel hauberk and reinforced leather gloves, just like his daughter.
“Hi Eric! Did you enjoy meditating with Mom? Are you ready for me to kick your ass in weapon’s practice?”
John gave her a look. “Louise…”
Eric chuckled. “I’d love for you to give me some pointers, kung fu sister.”
Only as the words slipped free of his cheeky smile did he think that perhaps he should have said something different in a world that placed such an emphasis on cultivation, academies, and he’d bet, martial arts as well. Add to that the possibility that she might truly become his sister if he chose to walk this path…
But before he could even think to apologize, he sensed Hanna’s flinch turned to an approving chuckle as Louise’s smile turned to a fierce echo of her father’s.
“Damn right, I’ll give you some pointers!”
“Louise…” Her mother’s tone caused her to stiffen, filled with maternal tenderness and warning both.
Louise’s lips curved into a challenging smirk. “Don’t worry, mom. I just mean at target practice. I won’t need to crush him with full contact combat as well.”
Eric laughed. “You’re on.” He then affected a youth’s cautious curiosity. “So… what are we competing with?”
“Whatever weapon you like!”
Eric grinned, slipping off his belt, laughing at the expressions this earned him as he bent down to claim the stone conveniently at his feet. “Then how about the sling?”
Louise gave him a deadpan stare as he began casually twirling the baseball-sized rock.
John laughed at the expression on Louise’s face. “Oh he has you there, darling. You gave him an opening and he took it! And like any good slinger… he always has his weapon close on hand.”
Hanna blinked and laughed. “So that’s why you’re wearing your bluejeans!"
Eric nodded. “I’m always prepared for sling-time.”
Louise scowled, before her lips curved in a challenging smile. “I’ll bet you think you’re pretty good with your weapon, don’t you?”
Eric winked. “Good enough to have this conversation with you.”
Louise furrowed her pretty brows, clearly not understanding what he meant, though John gave him an approving nod.
“Best not underestimate him, pumpkin.”
“I know, dad. Which is I propose we make this interesting! Eric can use his leather belt sling… because that’s the weapon he favors. And I get to use the weapon I favor! We’ll see who hits the target better at 20, 50, and 100 yards. What do you say, Eric?”
Eric grinned. “I’d say you’re on.”
“Awesome!”
A beaming Louise turned to her father. “Deathblaze time, dad.”
Her father gave her a look before roaring with laughter. “Not going to hold back, are you, darling?”
“Hell no! The wise tactician uses every tool in her arsenal. And if you can goad your enemy into underestimating you enough to think sling stones equate with plasma blasts… than you do just that to secure victory!”
John gave her helm a friendly rap with his nuckle. “Fine. So long as our newest member agrees… and afterwards you two can play with different weapons, if you wish to continue the contest.”
Louise’s smirk faded but she nodded her head.
Eric grinned and gave a thumbs up. “Sounds good to me. Lots of choice ammo here,” he said, pointing to the small collection of surprisingly smooth baseball-sized rocks he now had at his disposal, earning a curious look from Hanna and a frown from John.
Louise blinked. “How? There aren’t that many loose stones under our feet that you could gather them in five seconds, are there?”
Eric grinned. “One of the advantages that slingers have over other ranged fighters is that there’s always a ready supply of ammo on hand.”
John eyed Eric thoughtfully before chuckling his daughter’s way. “Best you be prepared, darling.”
“For what? Crushing victory?” She quipped as she expertly checked over her weapon before setting up the tripod and resting it on her chosen shooting bench.
Eric smirked. “So we’re not going be taking standing shots?”
“Why the hell would we? A skilled sniper keeps her head down and her body profile low, and takes full advantage of terrain.”
Eric laughed, dipping his head. “Fair point. Unless you’re fighting while moving or in an urban environment, standing shots are for the movies.”
“Right. What’s a movie?”
“Holocams, darling. You saw one for your birthday in the city, remember?”
Louise gave a distracted nod as she lined up her shot and slowly squeezed the trigger. “Heart,” she said, giving a satisfied nod when the man-sized mannequin holding both spear and shield sported a smoking hole right where the heart would be.
Eric nodded his approval, liking how these mannequins had red dots for all the vital areas in the body and concentric rings which clearly gave a shooter multiple targets to aim for.
She gave Eric an impish grin. “You’re turn!”
John flashed Eric an apologetic smile. “If you can just hit the target with your sling stone, that will count as a kill.”
“Dad…”
“He’s using one of the oldest weapons known to man, love. You’re using one of the most advanced. Now back up, darling. Let’s all stand behind the oak. Slings, besides being one of the deadliest early weapons, were also one of the most difficult to aim accurately, and this is his first time making use of a—”
His words broke off as the air rang with the crack of exploding wood, Eric stepping forward and gracefully following through as he released his stone without any overabundance of speed or power at all. Just aiming for as smooth release as was worthy of his skill, not even compelling the sling to obey his will. His shot as natural as could be.
It wasn’t his fault that the entire target exploded into shrapnel on impact. Had he released any slower… damn it, he should have released it slower! Even if it had begged for just the teeniest snap at the end with its release.
Eric stiffened at the expressions he received, forcing an innocent smile on his features.
“Did I win?”
“You exploded the target!”
Eric blinked at Louise’s look of outraged disbelief.
“Ah. Fair point. We don’t know how close I got to a perfect heart shot. Should we count it as your victory, then?”
Louise’s pretty violet eyes bulged. “You obliterated the one at a hundred yards!”
Eric shrugged. “I mean… yeah. I didn’t want to crowd out your targets. Or… you know… hit anyone with flying shrapnel?”
“How did you obliterate it? It’s enchanted wood! Your using an ancient relic that shouldn’t even hit at that range, if dad’s giving you full credit for a twenty yard shot! If I weren’t using dad’s Deathblaze, I’d hardly leave a mark! And mine will still heal by tomorrow at noon! But the one you totaled is fucking totaled!”
Eric blinked. “I…” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t know that.”
John gave Eric an approving smile. “Slinger, I’m guessing?”
Eric shrugged. “I have been accused of such, and had personal lessons from a mentor who crafted me this very sling.”
“A deceptively powerful class, with millennia of racial history behind it.”
Louise gave her father a curious look. “But Eric’s an elf, right? Shouldn’t he favor the bow?”
John nodded toward Eric. “You should ask your foster brother about that.”
“The bow is a fine weapon,” Eric conceded with a placating smile. “Far more accurate than most slings, with a piercing head that can drill through eyes, throats, and between the ribs of most creatures. But an arrow is also very light, and though its quite possible to get off a one in a thousand bullseye, most of the time, well made armor deflects most arrows. But when it comes to sling stones—especially baseball-sized sling stones that weigh a couple of pounds—if you can get those missiles launching through the air fast enough, you’ll crack helmets and shatter ribs. And chain mail, so popular with orcs that’s so good at catching spear and sword thrusts, won’t protect you any more than your mail hauberk can protect your limbs from a bone-crushing mace. It’s sheer kinetic energy transfer. It will shatter bones, bruise or rupture organs, or, if you get enough of a crack and spin, it will tear right through your target like a musket ball. Or if your scary skilled, a cannonball. I mean… maybe?”
He suppressed a wince before three pairs of eyes now focusing way too intently on him.
He forced a sheepish smile. “But if I can break an orc’s unarmored leg at a hundred paces while other elves’ arrowheads bounce right off their thick mail hauberks and thicker skulls… then that’s a win in my book.”
“But don’t orcs fight with muskets and cannons?”
Eric nodded. “Correct, Louise. Which is why fighting in the right terrain is everything. Clumsy clueless orcs crashing through the underbrush are easy targets to skilled elven archers quite at home in the branches of any tree, if they can get the drop on their prey. Then, after releasing our shafts, we dart back around cover in the time it takes the stink-heads to lift their oversized spear muskets to get off a round of ball and shot. Then, while their spending way too long reloading, we’re peppering them with arrows and sling stones, or just throwing heavy rocks down on them, which also works surprisingly well.”
Louise furrowed her brow. “But Eric, you’re sling… isn’t whipping around a sling that size going to wreck your shots?”
Eric winked. “It’s all about positioning and timing, Louise. In the right position, slings are awesome. But when I’m not in the right position, who the hell says I can’t use a doubleshot crossbow?”
John gave an approving nod. “Practical, skilled, and resourceful. Exactly what you’d hope to see in the military of any newly ascending world.”
Louise’s eyes filled with unexpected sympathy. “Because that’s what you had to be. A soldier fighting for his people. His life. When you’re no older than my…”
Louise swallowed, lowering her gaze. “Dad, I think I’m done practicing for now.”
John dipped his head, rubbing her curls when she took off her helmet. “Of course, honey.”
“Would you like to help me make lunch, dear? I’m going to go check on the girls.”
Louise dipped her head. “Okay, mom.”
Eric’s gut twisted at the pained sympathy he saw in Louise’s gaze, sensing as well the scars on her own heart.
“It’s alright, little sis. As long as you agree that sling kicks blaster’s butt… I’ll let you make me lunch.”
Louis stiffened, cheeks flushing with sudden heat.
Eric flashed a teasing grin. “Unless you still think you can beat me.”
“I’ll crush you!”
“Prove it. 20 and 50 yard targets are still intact. And I’ll even let you call out what targets I’m supposed to hit.”
Louise’s eyes flashed, her lips curving in a mischievous smile. “Deal. I’ll shoot first, since you don’t need to duck and cover for my shots…”
“Ha ha,” Eric quipped.
“Then I’ll choose your targets. And if I win… you’re cleaning the dishes! Shake on it.”
Eric solemnly did just that.
The air filled with evil laughter. “Too bad you forgot to limit how far a target I can choose!”
“You got me there, Louise.”
“Louise…”
“Don’t worry, dad. I won’t make it impossible. I promise!”
Hanna’s warm smile took in them all. “I’ll let you three play. I’ll check on the girls and see if they’d like to help me make lunch.” She then pantomimed stirring and eating, two gestures Eric knew they understood.
“Okay, mom!” Louise said as she re-donned her helmet and lined up her next couple of shots, hitting the heart dead center at both 20 and 50 yards.
“Looks like you’re winning,” Eric commended.
“Damn right, I am. Now for your first shot… see the top pear on that tree over there?”
“You mean the one on the topmost branch, with the red-feathered birds roosting to the left of it?”
“Yes, the family of redwings.”
“Redwings? That’s what you call your birds?”
“Shutup and hit the target, Eric. If you can!”
John snorted. “That’s over two hundred yards away… fucking Grom’s beard!”
Louise’s smirk as she pointed to the far off pear from behind the cover of her armored father turned to a look of gobsmacked disbelief when it exploded in a shower of pear pulp an eyeblink later, the air ringing with a sonic crack Louise’s helmet hopefully protected her from
Eric grinned at her expression, even as a tiny part of him worried he was showing off just a bit too much. Bullwhips also cracked the air when they broke the sound barrier, so it wasn’t that big a deal, he was sure. But mostly what he felt was smug satisfaction at the look on Louise’s face.
“Ooh my… I do believe my little sis will soon be making me tasty snacks on the regular.”
Her look of awe turned to outrage. “That wasn’t part of our agreement!”
“Tell that to the spattered pear.”
Louise crossed her arms and glared. “Okay, then. Last shot. Hit the redwings right now!”
“Wait, you mean the obvious family of nesting birdies that had been plucking the overripe peaches that already splattered on the ground, leaving nitrogen rich dung in its place?”
“Yes!”
Eric shrugged, winding up his sling with slow revolutions, sensing exactly where he wanted his final shot to go, factoring in air resistance and the fact that he was only applying a tiny fraction of the force and velocity he was capable of… before he released the power in his coiled hips and shoulders and the air rang with the crack of his sling.
Louise gazed at his target for a long, panicked moment before her eyes crinkled in a relieved smile. “You missed! That means you’re on dish duty… yay!”
Eric gave a dramatic sigh, shrugging his shoulders despondently. “I guess you got me in the end, Louise. Well done.”
Louise positively beamed as she patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Eric. Just remember… not a single spot! I want those dishes shiny!”
He snorted as Louise sauntered off, though his bemused sigh turned to a wince at the measuring look her father was giving him.
“Eric?”
“Yes, John?”
“Did you really miss?”
Eric shrugged. “What can I say? Louise just proved that tactics and maneuvering is about more than just levels and talent. Because at the end of it all, whatever my attributes or level, I’m the one doing her dishes.”
This earned a snort. “Sure, Eric.” The larger man clapped his relaxed shoulder. “And thank you for showing restraint. Now, are there any weapons your curious about, or would like to practice with, before lunch?”
“Actually, I did have a question or two, if you didn’t mind.”
“Of course, Eric. Ask away. It’s every parent’s duty to teach the next generation.”
Eric did his best to keep his features calm. Trying not to give away how much he was burning with curiosity. “How is that Mark-II Deathblaze even firing, in an area this infused with Spiritual Energy?”
John smiled in approval. “An astute observation and an excellent question,” he said, brandishing the weapon. “If you look very closely, you might be able to see the tiny silver glyphs etched into both the barrel and hilt of the blaster. These are warding glyphs that force the flow of Spiritual Energy around the weapon. But no need to strain your eyes. If the symbols start to waver and give you headache… you know that means they’re still working!”
Qi Perception check: Critical Success!
Eric of course saw the sigils blazing perfectly clearly, but he nodded in appreciation of the confirmation before making his request.
“It’s so different from Sylvan runes. I don’t suppose it would be okay if I copied them? I’d love to expand my knowledge. Who knows? With enough time and study, I might even be able to pick up a new skill.”
John furrowed his brow, before giving a thoughtful nod. “You can certainly try. Though if they waver in your eyes or just won’t focus… don’t force it. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you the perils of an imperfectly forged glyph. Assuming a chance-made symbol works at all. Yet considering all the letters of all the alphabets of countless worlds… is extremely unlikely. I take it you’ve dabbled in the arcane?”
“When not just fighting to survive? I made a point of learning whatever I could from whoever would teach me,” Eric admitted gamely enough, earning a sympathetic grimace from John.
“Sure, Eric. You’re more than welcome to draw the sigils. Fair warning, you’re going to need to etch them in wax, clay, or wood later, even if you can see them clearly. Ink tends to fade to nothing here on New Titan with the constant streams of Spiritual Energy constantly cleansing everything, which is why students learn braille or use braille typers in most—what are you doing?”
Eric had already claimed the vellum binder and fountain pen John handed him. What caught his interest was the way Eric pressed the ball of his thumb to the unscrewed top.
“Eric?”
“What’s up, John?”
“Did you just put a drop of your blood in the ink chamber?”
Eric winked. “I did indeed.”
The older man stared at Eric for a long moment, before snorting. “You’re using blood magic, aren’t you?”
Eric winked. “Or maybe I’m just using common sense. The blood’s infused with my life force. That’s mixing with the ink, which means there’s a bit of me in it, which means my writing should last for quite awhile, without getting eroded by the constant flow of Spiritual Energy.”
John crossed his arms. “Tell me you didn’t infuse it with just a bit of Soul Reserves or Magic.”
Eric grinned. “Sure. I’ll answer that, if you tell me how far you ascended as a Bronze before settling down to a much happier ending.”
Granite features glared into Eric’s own… before softening into a father’s tired smile. “Fifteen, Eric. Fifteen steps up the precipice of Bronze, over more blood and conflict than I really care to share.”
Eric dipped his head. “Fair enough. My blood is infused with a sliver of my life force. Which means that the ink is, in a sense… alive. Infused with Mana and Soul Reserve energy both. And it isn’t going anywhere that I don’t want it to.”
Which said all that needed saying. No need to blather on about having Rank 38 Blood Mastery, or admit to a Blood Runes skill evolution or having Runic Lore as a nodal talent.
For long moments John just stared at Eric, but he didn’t mind. All his focus was now on the exquisitely complex sigils covering the Mark -I Deathblaze just like the one he had once bonded to his soul.
He wasted no time, doing his best to transcribe them all, sensing that there was so much to learn, and all the symbols were quite different from the Runic Alphabet that came to him so intuitively. That was, in fact, tied to his nodes and basically a part of him.
This was the farthest thing from that, yet he sensed the faintest tingle of their potential, that there must be a common pattern or theme somewhere… some fundamental truth that bound both alphabets together. He grinned in anticipatory excitement, eager to unravel whatever secrets he could. Because finally, there was a path forward! And if he could one day learn how to balance runes that manipulated Spiritual Energy with his own arts…
He took a satisfied breath when lifting his pen from the vellum, having double and triple checked all the glyphs, copying them just as methodically and carefully as he could.
“Thank you,” he said to John in all sincerity. Before being slightly taken aback by the man’s overly intent stare.
“You write very quickly.”
Eric’s cheeks flushed. How much of himself had he revealed? He had been concentrating, working very carefully to transcribe with extreme precision, not rushing at all!
But he had most definitely been using Battletime.
“I try my best,” he said with a shrug. Because what else could he say?
He then turned back to the house. “Is that lunch I smell?”
This earned a snort. But all John said was, “Could be, Eric. Come on. Let’s head back.”
Eric nodded, contentedly doing just that, pretending he didn’t feel John’s measuring gaze on his back the whole time.
A tiny part of him felt so foolish, having revealed so much… too much. Just a tiny bit of himself, really. Yet he knew it was only a matter of time before John or Hanna called him on something he missed, and solemnly let him know that it was time for him to go.
His gut clenched surprisingly tight at that thought. Which was absurd, he knew, as he helped himself to yet another portion of chicken and dumplings while Maja and Ella chirped at his excess while sipping their own vegetable soups and trilling about learning the basics of cookery with their new denmother.
Eric swallowed the lump in his throat, warmed to sense how the girls were already forming strong bonds with Hanna, who looked as touched as Eric felt when he translated that word. They might not be comfortable calling her mother, yet. Maybe not for a long time. But already, Hanna was becoming family to them. And that realization alone filled Eric with warmth that lasted right through an afternoon gaming session so reminiscent of board games Eric had once enjoyed what now felt like a lifetime ago. Battlefield Risk, Mercantile Monopoly, go and chess and even a flying kings variant of checkers. And Louise absolutely beaming when she triumphed over them all.
Though Eric made her earn the chess wins… he didn’t have to fake losing at go when it was his first time playing and the girl was clearly no fool.
“You have to guard your pieces better, Eric. You can’t just let me control the board. Then its only a matter of time before I’m controlling you!”
Eric smirked. “Nonsense!” He declared, kissing his bicep. “No way you’re ever controlling these guns.”
This earned a surprised blink and flushing cheeks and Eric realized he was being an idiot. Again. He wasn’t the goofy brother of a brilliant starlet… he was an unexpected stranger in Louise’s life, smiling at her with his Super Punch Man-Tier attributes and, even if he tried not to think about it, an airbrushed, glossy, always perfect hair and jeweled eyes 40 Appearance.
What made it worse were the trills the twins gave him, Ella’s cheeks flushing brightly before she fled out of the room.
Hanna sighed at the sound of ripping cloth. “And we just got you that shirt.”
Eric winced, gazing down at his fine silk shirt that he really shouldn’t have worn for a casual weekend… was it the weekend? Did they have weekends? Gaming session. Because it had just burst open, revealing muscles he had deliberately kept from popping, until now.
Then Eric’s eyes widened. The solution was so obvious! It wasn’t cotton… it was silk! Even if he was pretty sure he could get cotton to work with Flesh Sculptor with a bit of practice… he didn’t have to! This was just as much part of a creature as their flesh, bones, or chitin!
“It’s okay, I can fix it!” He declared, and did just that. The shirt disappeared for the blink of an eye as he focused on it in his ES space, relieved to feel an instant connection to his shirt. And far from being overly complex a weave or just on the cusp of his comprehension like those exotic runes, it was no more difficult to restore the silk to its former intact shape than it was to form lizard hide bulwarks or spiked platforms sure to doom any number of honorless assassins trying to ambush him. Best of all, this was one ability he knew, thanks to his own quest to obtain Spirit Peaches back when he had been desperate for Pristine Meridians that might now forever be beyond him, Flesh Sculpting was the one necromantic skill that should cause him absolutely no problem at all! Because even leatherworkers and boyers made use of animal parts with hide, bone, gum, and sinew. It was as natural as tool making itself. And even if he wouldn’t eat the silk shirt he was now tempering to be extra resilient and have just a bit more give in the arms… no one ate animal products that had been tanned and treated for hard use, not for a soft palate!
“There!” He said, just a few Battletime-boosted seconds later as his shirt popped back on his form with just two additional seconds needed to summon it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to soul-bind it yet. But it was certainly an option, he thought, because it certainly did look fine!
“Good as new!” He flexed his arm, and this time the shirt didn’t rip at all.
But everyone was still staring at him.
Especially Louise.
“What?”
“Eric?”
“Yes, Aunty Hanna?”
“I can’t help but note that your shirt is covered in crimson symbols?”
Eric nodded. “Yup. Blood runes of strengthening and resilience.” He gave a satisfied smile. “Trust me, this shirt isn’t ripping anytime soon.”
“Your shirt that you made disappear and reappear. Like magic,” Louise said breathlessly as she slowly walked over to him, her finger solemnly poking his chest that he carefully kept relaxed, not wanting to hurt her finger and having absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do when his foster-sister? Step-sister? Bit her lip and solemnly declared, “You got some serious muscles, Eric. You know that?”
Eric blinked, thoughts racing for something to say. “Go rematch?”
“I will crush you to dust.”
Eric winked. “You can certainly try.”
Eric kept his mind off the looks her parents were trading as Maja trilled nervously before curling up in Hanna’s lap, blinking owlishly at Eric as he proceeded to get ground to dust, just like Louise had predicted.
“But I captured three pieces at once!”
“That’s called bait. It was a trap, Eric. Do you know what trap means?”
Eric snorted. “A whole fuckton of orcs know that I know what trap means, little sis.”
“Language!” John rumbled.
Eric winced. “Sorry, Sir.”
“John, Eric. Uncle John if you like, or just John.”
Eric forced a smile. “Sorry, John. It’s just… you got that military vibe something fierce, you know?”
“I know, Eric. My wife has been trying to temper me into someone fit for indoor living for nearly two decades. I’d say she’s over halfway there.”
“On good days,” Hanna huffed, before turning to Eric. “Now. How about you change into one of the nice, comfy, short-sleeved cotton t-shirts we got you? Your enhanced shirt, though quite pretty, is also quite… vivid, and I’m not sure how comfortable your sisters are with it.”
“Oh it’s okay, mom. I think it looks awesome!” Louise assured, giving Eric an intent look. “Eric, um… can you—”
“No, Louise,” her mother snapped. “Your brother is not ‘enhancing’ your clothes, or you, with any blood runes or tattoos!”
Louise instantly pouted. “That’s not fair, mom! It would look so cool if I could show off a tattoo made by my super-hot brother! Ya Ling and Josie will be so jealous!”
Her eyes bulged when her words caught up with her. “I mean…”
Eric coughed. “I think a t-shirt’s a great idea, Aunt Hanna. Too hot for this shirt, anyway. I’ll be right back?”
Eric returned seconds later wearing the baggiest of his hemp shirts and equally comfortable lounging pants, happy to receive a relieved hug from Maja who assured him that he looked so much nicer without scary blood runes all over him and did he want to play blocks with her?
“Sure!” Eric happily agreed, before turning to Hanna. “Do we have any, um… building blocks?”
Hanna smirked, turning to a pouting Louise. “Louise, dear, how about you pull out your old play blocks? That might be just the way for you to bond with your new sisters.”
Louise’s features flickered a gamut of emotions before settling on a gentle smile for the two youngest additions to her life, Ella smiling as she returned with a glass of water she shared with her sister.
“Sure, mom. I’ll get the blocks.”
Eric just smiled and trilled with the excited girls, happy to put certain awkward moments behind them all. When a perfectly calm and not at all flustered or embarrassed Louise brought out a rather large box of wooden blocks that Eric should have helped retrieve before realizing that that was the last thing he should have done… the four of them were building a rather impressive edifice that Eric only gave a tiny bit of help to keep in one place.
“Think we can fit one more block Eric?”
Eric grinned at the question, before shaking his head as he gazed up at the precariously built tower of blocks. “Nope. My Structural Integrity sense makes it clear that would be one block too many, Louise.”
Louise gave him a pointed look. “I’ll bet you a week’s cleaning that you can’t do it.”
Eric blinked. “That’s a lot of dishes Louise.”
Louise flashed an evil grin. “As you should know. Because your allowance is already getting docked for the two you broke.”
Eric winced. He really had tried his best, only realizing in retrospect that, as skilled as he was holding mithril blades or cherishing delicate babes, or pounding the shit out of anything or anyone that crossed him… applying just a bit of extra force against stubborn bits of grime that didn’t come up with an effortless gentle sponge soak… yeah. That had taken just a tiny bit of fine tuning.
“Only the first couple. I’m better now.”
Louise gave a sad shake of her head. “Doubt it. You’ll be breaking so many dishes that you’ll be paying mom instead of the other way around, next weekend.”
“So there are weekends here!” Eric grinned triumphantly.
Louise huffed, tossing her hair back. “Of course there are! 3 days to savor life with family, and 7 days to earn the funds you need to take care of your family. Same as anywhere sane.”
Eric smirked. “My country was 5 on, 2 off.”
Louise frowned. “Is that better or worse?”
“Do the math, dear,” her mother, who looked like she hadn’t been paying attention at all, scolded even as she nodded and praised Maja chirping about her toy bird. “It is a beautiful treasure, isn’t it, Maja? And you can mirror its chirps so well!”
Louise pouted. “Practical math.”
Eric grinned. “It’s easy, sis.”
“Okay, you do it.”
“Sure. What’s 10x7?”
“Seventy.”
“Yup. So out of seventy days, we get twenty off. And out of seventy days…”
“Shit. Ten day weeks, seven of them… we get twenty one days off! Easy math, why am I being an idiot?”
“Because you know you can’t stack that final block up there, no matter how hard you try?” Eric teased.
Louise glared. “Watch me, big bro. Now hoist me up. Then prepare to do more dishes!”
A smirking Eric happily did just that, effortlessly lifting Louise on the palm of his hand, mentally including Louise as in his care, which meant she was blessed by the same Speed Racer trait that would allow him to twist and zip around at MACH 5 without rustling a hair on him or anything or anyone he carried. Because inertia, velocity, and relativity were malleable when he was in the mood, which also meant that Louise wasn’t disoriented in the least when Eric lifted her up.
“Wild! That didn’t even feel like… the house felt like it lowered itself!”
Eric’s mind screamed warning, but it was too late. He was now the object of way too many stares. “Ha. You’re distracted! Just as I had planned. My master plan is coming to fruition… shit, you actually did it?”
Louise snorted when Eric lowered her back down, crossing her arms in satisfaction. “Let’s see you top that!” She said with a satisfied smirk as she gazed up at the wooden toy that looked suspiciously like a giraffe at the very top.
Eric bowed his head in surrender. “I’ve been defeated once more. Now if that isn’t a snack bowl that needs cleaning, or at least refilling, then I’m a poor dishwasher indeed.”
Of course that was the moment the tower of blocks crashed to the ground, Eric’s touch no longer stabilizing it, but he had already left the room.
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