Chapter 125: Chapter 124: ‘Eternal’ Youth

 

• [Behemoth] reaches lvl 4

I almost choked on a piece of meat when the notification rang through my mind. So much for the much-desired peace during my lunch break, which I believed I fully deserved after the grueling morning. 

Why did it level up, anyway?

I didn’t eat that much. Seriously, I still had an unfinished skewer in my hand.

True, it was the fourth one Deckard had given me, but that was not unusual. I always get pretty hungry after an entire morning of hellish training. Plus, these skewers were so good, exactly to my liking, and whoever cooked them up deserves my compliments.

Alright, to be honest with myself, I had quite an appetite lately, and it was a little daunting. Eat as much as I did back home, and I’d think there’s something wrong with me. 

Sure, this was Eleaden and my body was different. Except I didn't eat that much locked in the basement going through mutations either. So what was the problem? The whole shitty training thing, of course. My body was simply burning a lot of energy, hence the craving.

Yet was the amount I ate enough to get [Behemoth] leveled up? Apparently, or I devoured so much last night that my skill was on the verge of leveling up, anyway.

Even so, I found the speed with which I gained three levels unbelievable. [Behemoth] was only in my skill set for a few hours, so how? How did I level it so fast?

Another bite and another thought crossed my mind. Or you could say realization dawned on me. What I was stuffing myself with was not cheap food. It was food Deckard himself ate, quality food prepared by chefs who have gone through an evolution, cooked from ingredients sourced from the depths of the Fallens Cry. Not to mention how tasty it was, it was also very nourishing, filled me up much faster than plain food, and gave me more energy.

If I had to take a guess, that was the reason for the rapid growth of the skill, excellent food. That and [None to Squander]. I was getting more out of each bite than I would generally get. [Behemoth] was thus storing even more nutrients and energy from the already fine food than it would have done on its own.

These two skills really meshed well together.

How much extra had I already stored? The skill description was sparse on information in this regard, but I had this odd feeling on top of how full I felt. Like I have another stomach to fill. Not with food, though. With the nutrients and energy, my body processed from my meals. It was not at all difficult to determine how much to store in this extra storage, and it was no harder to tell how full it was. 

Well, I was a long way from filling that hold.

After all, I first had to digest the food I stuffed my stomach with.

Work for my digestion-boosting skill and unless I was mistaken, I expected [None to Squander] to level up faster as long as I ate decent food, just like [Behemoth].

The same could not be said for the other skills. That is, with the exception of [Striving Mule]. Running around the track, doing drills, and jumping through the loops brought it up to level five. Pretty nice, if I may say, and if it keeps up like this, the next tier was just around the corner.

“Something wrong with the meat, Korra?”

With the meat? I looked down at the skewer in my hand to see what Deckard meant, only to realize I’d stopped eating. 

“No! Sorry, I...” I said, shaking my head, and took a big bite of the meat. “I just got lost in thought.”

“Couldn’t you tell me that first and then stuff your mouth?” he grunted, then handed me a small object. “Here, put this on when you’re done.”

A metal badge came to add to the one I already had on my metal weight belt, a magical tool that, along with a pair of bracelets and ankle bracelets, raised my weight.

“Are you serious?! I barely made it through that track.”

“That was your hangover, not a skill change that made it harder for you. From what I’ve seen, you can handle the extra weight. Actually, if you want to push on, you need it.”

With a sigh, and after taking the last bite from the skewer, I clipped the badge to my belt, immediately feeling the loss of mana and increased weight.

“With [Behemoth] among my skills, I get heavier. So why are these still needed?”

“Eventually. You’re going to get heavier, eventually. It’s going to take a while, and you need to train now. Besides, where the hell did you get the idea that with more mass, you wouldn’t need the weights?”

“...” I haven’t found any reasonable answer to that. So I kept my mouth shut.

“You don’t train to be able to  move your ass when you weigh a ton. You train to be able to fight and make your mass count, no matter how much you weigh.”

“Got it. The weights stay.”

Deckard’s wordless nod spoke volumes. Apart from thinking I was a dumb hick, my interpretation of his gaze, he was mainly satisfied that I got it. 

Thoughtful, he tossed me a leather canteen of water to wash down my lunch. “Honestly. I was expecting you to be worse today. I know how changing skills can throw off one’s moves, but you’ve adapted to your strength pretty quickly. Hmm... perhaps it’s simply because you only know the basics so far, but whatever it is, let’s say another hour or two with those weights on, and I could teach you a thing or two.”

“Wait a fucking minute! You mean like teach me, like really teach me.”

“Yes”

“As in how to fight, not how to run through the meadow?”

He chuckled. “That’s if you do well with those extra weights.”

“Yes! Let’s go!” I said and jumped to my feet, full of excitement and energy. How could I not when I finally had an opportunity in front of me to really learn how to fight. All I had to do was endure two more hours of dull training that didn’t feel like it was giving me too much anymore. Sure, bigger muscles, perhaps better coordination. I was able to put my foot behind my head while standing and skip through a very tight loop in my run. That was it, though. There was nothing else

Well, other than the fact that it made me sweat like a pig.

Okay, I admit, I was a little bitter about it, especially because Deckard made me do the training knowing full well that I was suffering from a hangover.

It was a necessary evil, though. I was well aware of that. If I were to stop, my muscles would grow lazy, and my tendons, which was a fucking torture to get them to the current point, would have stiffened. I knew all that and wasn’t going to stop practicing even if Deckard gave me up as an apprentice. It’s just... it’s been a rough morning.

Returning the canteen to him, I was about to head out onto the track when my brain alerted me to something I had missed earlier.

“Did you...?” I asked and stopped short. Perhaps I heard him wrong. But did I? My hearing was painfully good. “Did you call me Korra?”

“I know. Strange, isn’t it?” He asked back.

“Heck yeah. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say my name.”

“Me too,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. Perhaps for the first time, he’d ever been self-conscious in front of me, even if only slightly. “We’ve had this conversation before...”

“...and as I recall, you said calling me by my name didn’t sit well with you.”

“Good memory. How come you don’t remember last night? Anyway, you’re right. It rolled strangely off my tongue, and it still does.”

Rude! Was my name that weird to him? “What changed?”

“You,” he said simply, pointing at me.

I’ve changed? How? “Class evolution?”

“That and more. You’re not that desperate gal I met in Esulmor anymore. Neither are you that lost. You’ve gained some confidence and guts. You’ve simply grown into...a woman in my eyes.”

Clenching my fists, I gritted my teeth. “I’ll say it again. I’m twenty-nine. A woman long ago!”

He waved off my point. “I knew an 80-year-old hag who looked 16. She acted that way, too. Now that you’ve made it to the higher leagues, age doesn’t matter so much. You should be aware of that.”

“Class evolution prolonged my life?”

“Guess again.”

“Levels...no, wait. It’s the Constitution, right?”

“Yours over a hundred, so now it’s affecting your life span too.”

Oh, a condition I had no idea about. “Why not before?”

“A disease-ridden wretch will hardly have a long life.”

He didn’t have to say more. I was healthy, so healthy that it reached the point where it was prolonging my life. On Earth, people in countries with good health care could enjoy long lives too, only as far as I understand it, I got beyond that. Eternal youth was within my reach.

“So...how old are you? You’re not an old fart, by any chance?”

You are reading story Lament of the Slave at novel35.com

“How old do I look?” He asked after a smirk flashed across his face.

That answer required some thought. I wasn’t good at this. “Forty-five, maybe forty-three.”

“That’s about right. But my actual age is fifty-one.”

Truthfully, I felt relieved, glad he wasn’t some old geezer who took me on as an apprentice so that he could ogle a young woman’s ass.

“Before your mind starts going wild with eternal youth, let me tell you that even with my Constitution, I just age slower. I’m not immortal.”

A little let down, but I gave him a nod, wondering. “And your Constitution is...?”

“Over three hundred, keep that to yourself.”

That was a given. But, just, wow! Three fucking hundred and that sure as hell wasn't his main stat.

“So, Korra. Or would you rather I called you something else? We can stay on a last-name basis.”

“You don’t have one.” I pointed out. “Seriously, why now? Don’t get me wrong, you calling me a girl was bloody annoying, a bit insulting, but something I could get over. So...why now?”

He grew serious this time and took a deep breath. “So far, you were in my eyes a recruit who just enlisted in the army, a rookie who didn’t even know how to walk on her own. Those lads and lasses back then were like chicks plucked from their mother hens, and you reminded me of them. It took me a while to realize that. After all, it’s been a while since I trained anyone,” he said and paused. “Just like I didn’t let them get on a first-name basis with me, I kept you away.”

“Okay. So you called everyone by their last name? Don’t tell me it was all boys and girls.”

Deckard smiled, reminiscing. “Mostly last names. Some have earned nicknames. Dickhead, Halfwit, Dolt, Brunette, Redhead, Ogress, Bitch, Fury,...”

“You must have been really popular.”

“I never said I was, nor did I try to. It was during the Mind Wars. I was trying to prepare them as best I could to survive, not make friends with them. Even so, only a few made it.”

Stupid Korra, you were stupid! I should have thought of that. There must have been a ton of people who he knew and who had lost their lives. It was perfectly reasonable that he tried not to let them get too close.

“Does that mean you think I can handle myself?”

“You wish,” he said, laughing. “No, I’m confident enough to keep you from getting in harm’s way while I teach you how to move your ass around, spread your wings, and soar on your own.”

There was no doubt he didn’t mean to teach me to fly, yet I couldn’t resist looking at my wings.

“For Traiana’s sake, it was just a figure of speech. Anyway, as I said, it took me a while, but I figured that you’re not one of those chicks, one of those lads, and lasses. You’re my apprentice. Damn! We drank together. You earned it, but I’m at a loss. What should I call you?”

Korra, that was what immediately came to mind. It was my fucking name. However, I refrained from saying it out loud. Deckard seemed very uncomfortable with calling me that. And to be honest, coming from him, it sounded strange even to my ears. Most likely because he’s been calling me a girl since the day we met. Only coming up with a moniker that people called you wasn’t as easy as coming up with a nickname on the internet. FlowerBabe19 wasn’t exactly what I wanted Deckard to call me.

“Aren’t nicknames something that just comes out of one’s heart?” No, I wasn’t that poetic. It was just my way of covering up the truth that I had no idea.

“Then we’ll see what mine comes up with,” he said, a little amused, seeing through me that I was as much at a loss as he was. “Now, give me fifty!”

Change in his tone made it clear the discussion was over. 

Instead of telling him to forget the insulting nicknames he was giving the recruits, I swallowed my remark and went down to the push-ups as he gestured me to do. And so my training, this time hangover free but made harder by weights, began.

In just a few minutes, I could feel the ten percent increase of my weight on top of the one in my muscles. They burned and ached, but it was no wonder when I was hauling a fair 13kg more with those magic weights. What made it even worse was it didn’t take me an hour to get through the training as I hoped, nor two, as Deckard declared. I toiled my ass off for a good three hours before he deemed me ready to move on to the next step of his training.

“So, how do I kick someone really good?” I asked as I caught my breath, standing thrilled in front of Deckard, more than ready for whatever he had in store for me.

“Hold your horses. Before we get to that, you need to learn to walk first.”

Walk? “I can walk...ah, you don’t mean just walk, right?”

“You catch on fast. You have no idea how much the right step can do, but don't worry you're not the only one, many are ignorant of that. Stomping on heels is the worst habit you can have. It’s a very heavy step, and it takes very little to throw you off balance. Luckily, that’s not your case. You’re stepping on the toes nicely, as you should be.”

Was that a compliment? It was, wasn’t it? Well, I was never the one with the heavy step. However, I was treated to a whole new experience at Eleaden in the form of the absence of a pair of shoes on my feet.

“I’m barefoot all the time,” I remarked a little bitterly. 

“Hmm...maybe I should have made those guys and gals in the army run barefoot, too. It would save me a lot of work with them. Anyway, what you’re missing is any form. Though your step is light as that of a predator, you move with the finesse of a bull.”

Did I? I didn’t think I moved any worse than other people.

“Your gait gives off just a little of confidence, but lacks any grace, and pride is out of the question. We’ve got a damn lot of work to do.”

It sounded that way. Apparently, my stride was horrendous.

“Straighten up, hold your head high and do what I do,” Deckard said, taking a simple step to the side, then a second and three back. Without questioning his methods, I repeated the steps. 

And so it went on. Not long after, he added simple forward and backward steps. Thus, holding myself upright, I moved along the flat top of the hill for over an hour until the system notification rang through my mind.

• [Dancer’s Stride] reaches lvl 4

“Deckard, am I learning to dance?!”

“After what you pulled last night, I think you really need it,” he said, almost laughing. “But before you go all bitchy on me, dancing is an excellent way to learn the basics of footwork.”

“Is it?”

“If your feet don’t get tangled up while you dance, it won’t happen to you in a fight.”

“So, you dance?” It was hard to imagine him on the dance floor.

He clicked his tongue. “Too bad you don’t remember. You asked me out for a spin yesterday. True, I did most of the work while you were enjoying yourself. Do you want to give it another shot?”

“No, thanks.” I was all too aware of what a dancing klutz I was. Now, with the hangover gone, or should I say with alcohol coursing through my veins and clouding my mind, I lacked the boldness and lightheartedness that I was brimming with last night.

“Don’t say no so fast,” he said, chuckling. “Once you learn the basics, we dance.”

“Are you serious?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Fuck!” This wasn’t what I imagined when he mentioned he was going to teach me some of his fighting moves. Then hope dawned as my eyes fell on the grass beneath my feet. “Here? Don’t you need a dance floor for that?”

“Sure, if you want to impress a gal...or a guy. But I’m not teaching you to dance to the rhythm of the music. What I’m trying to get into your brain is how to dance to the beat of a battle, and that rarely takes place on the dance floor. This grassy mound, I’d say it’s too pleasant a place to move your ass. Once you’re ready, we’ll move down a few floors. Then we’ll see how you gripe about it.”

Actually, I felt relieved, glad this wasn’t some sort of whim of his. He considered it earnest training, and even though I wasn’t seeing the full benefits of it right now, just as he had no doubt that I would be able to move down to the lower floors of Fallens Cry, I chose to put my trust in him.

“When we’re done here, I’d like to hunt down one of the horned rabbits,” I told him while keeping an eye on my dance steps.

“Oh, I heard about you dragging one across the square. Good thinking, though. Actually, I was going to suggest it to you myself.”

Probably so he could see me fight and assess my progress. I can’t say it didn’t make me nervous.

“You want to sell the rabbit?”

I gave him a nod. “Last night cost me too much.”

“If you had to pay for everything you drank, you’d already be a debt slave. Sorry, that’s not what I meant...” He added quickly when he realized his blunder.

“It’s okay.” It was, I mean, I was no longer a slave. “So, yes. I want to sell the rabbit.”

“Then do you want a spatial tool? I’ve got one you could fit in one of these beasts just fine.”

“Thanks, but no.” I didn’t want to owe him too much, and he knew damn well there was no point in pursuing the matter further.

“I thought you were going to say that. How about a lesson in the basics of butchery, then?”

You can find story with these keywords: Lament of the Slave, Read Lament of the Slave, Lament of the Slave novel, Lament of the Slave book, Lament of the Slave story, Lament of the Slave full, Lament of the Slave Latest Chapter