Chapter 99: Chapter 99: White World

Digging my toes into the sand of the training ground yet again, I rushed at wannabe-elf. He was brimming with determination. Sure of himself that he’d seen through me. A few moments later, I proved him wrong. Like before, I pushed him on the defensive with my fast approach.

Though not everything went my way either.

The onlooking city guards, whose crowd seemed to have grown, mocked us before for mistaking this fight for a ball. Ironically, the two of us looked like we were at one. I floundered around Freyde, like a nimble dancer, while he led the dance with his sword art. All that was missing was the music, that and any rhythm in our moves.

My effort to avoid unnecessary injuries made me less daring. So it took me a bit longer to find a gap in his defense. When I did, all I managed to do was give him a minor scratch. Barely bleeding wound, not affecting his mobility.

Caught in this bizarre dance, I noticed a brief flash with the corner of my eye just beyond the range of my perception. Paying no further attention to it and focusing on a sword-wielding bookkeeper was a mistake I realized as soon as a bolt appeared in my domain, hurling right at me. Six meters was too short to react to something approaching so fast. I tried, anyway, by throwing myself on the ground.

Pointless.

The bolt hit my calf with such force that the tip came out on the other side with a spray of blood. A painful whimper coming out of my chest as I fell to my knees was something beyond my control. 

My mind blanked out for a few heartbeats. Then came the ‘What the fuck happened?’ moment and the realization that I was a sitting target. So, gritting my teeth, I moved.

“What the fuck, Harper?” shouted Freyde, equally surprised by the attack of the baker, who already had a reloaded crossbow in her hands. “Are you insane?”

He took the question out of my lips. What the hell was she thinking?

“Break off the tip and pull out the bolt,” Deckard promptly instructed me.

His lack of response to this despicable attack baffled me.

“What?!” I barked back. 

“Break off the tip, or rip the bolt out, but do it while they’re giving you time to do so,” he said louder and more forcefully to make me realize the gravity of the situation. It worked. Though it was not easy to follow his instructions. Break off the arrowhead/bolt? I’ve never done that.

Since it was embedded in my leg, and given my inexperience, it caused me quite a bit of pain. No less so than pulling it out.

Harper sneered at Freyde’s rage. “From here, it looked like you needed help.”

“Then there’s something wrong with your eyes,” he retorted.

“Is it? As far as I could see, you only hit her once. Or did I miss something?” She asked, mocking him. “Maybe the fact that you’ve been defending yourself the whole time?”

“That’s not true,” the bookkeeper growled.

“Oh, come on. Everyone could see that she had some issue in her head.” the baker argued, and to make it clear, she tapped her skull. Quite rude of her and remarkable of her to notice.

The pissed-off-elf gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. “No reason for you to interfere!”

“So should I watch my squadmate get whacked?” She wondered, her voice no less sneering. I was with Freyde on this one. Why the hell did she think interfering in our fight was okay? She just fucking shot me and had the gall to act like she had the right to do it. What struck me even more was that none of the onlooking city guards found it despicable, not even Rayden. Was she allowed to do that?

I raised the question with Deckard, and he sounded a little tired when he heard it. “I’ll say it again. This is where you’re supposed to get to know each other. No one said it was going to be a duel. Get that out of your head.”

It wasn’t supposed to be a duel? “So I was expected to fight all three at once from the very beginning?”

I could almost feel his mental shrug. “If the first guy kicked your ass, no.”

“You bet I’d win, though,” I argued, not taking my eyes off Freyde or Harper and checking the bolt shot. It already stopped bleeding.

“Of course, I saw you fight,” Deckard said as if that should explain his confidence in me.

Bookkeeper’s sharp scowl made my ears twitch. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Harper was right. He wasn’t the one who controlled the fight. Yet, the idea of ganging up on me didn’t sit well with him. “It’s not fair.”

“Damn right it isn’t,” the baker snapped. “She is twice our level and has a mentor who no doubt taught her some shit.”

Deckard stopped me before I could refute them. “Leave it, girl.”

Well, so be it. What I couldn’t let go of was the reason I was in this mess. “You saw me fight, so what? Aside from a few self-defense lessons, I’m self-taught, a flat-out amateur.”

“I’m not telling you you’re not.”

“Then why do you think I’m so much stronger than the others? Freyde has been training for years, what makes him weaker,” I pointed out what the not-so-quite-elf said to me.

“Yeah, in the training hall. I heard him,” Deckard said. The fact that he didn’t think much of it he made more than obvious. “I’m not questioning City Hall, the trainers there, or his effort. For a bookkeeper, he’s outstanding.”

“So what makes me so much stronger in your eyes?” It couldn’t just be pride, merely because I was his apprentice.

“You experienced desperation, fought for your life,” he said, pausing as Freyde’s attention turned back to me. “Sorry, Korra. I thought I could handle you on my own, but Harper’s right. I dance to your beat.”

Oh, even he got that remark stuck in his head. It made me chuckle. 

“Let’s see if you can keep up with her backing you up.” The confidence I wanted to put into my voice didn’t quite come out the way I wanted it to. The truth was, I had my doubts, but if I backed off now, I’d be a laughingstock, a wuss in the eyes of Harper at least, if not the whole baracks. 

It wouldn’t kill me. It’s just that no matter where I went, I could already hear people talking about me, my unusual appearance, and my Class. More remarks were not what I wanted to reach my ears.

So while I didn’t feel the confidence Deckard had in me and doubted I could beat the two, I wanted to prove to them I wasn’t afraid to at least try. 

“Well said, girl.” Deckard praised me. As good as it was to listen to, I hadn’t forgotten that he hadn’t finished saying his thought. Why the hell did he think I was stronger? “That I almost died a few times can’t make me a better fighter.”

“No, it makes you lucky as fuck!” He laughed...loudly untroubled by the others who heard him. “Sure, Welkes has honed his technique and knows what he’s doing. But you’re giving yourself too little credit.”

“...” What? My question remained unasked as I was forced to shift my full attention to Freyde, who went into a fighting stance, and Harper took aim with her bloody crossbow. 

“You’re a natural,” Deckard said, what he was saying as if nothing was happening. “Whether it’s in you from birth or it’s your new beast part, I don’t know, but you know how to fight. So believe in yourself and show them what you’re made of. Kick their asses!”

Was it an innate trait of mine? Should I have pursued a career as an MMA fighter instead of a florist? No, I never had any inclination to do that. It must have been my beast instincts.

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And on them, I reacted when Freyde attacked. Moving in his shadow to block Harper’s view, I took a cautious approach. 

He went for my left side, trying to force me to move aside. It would be as simple as taking two quick steps, save for exposing myself more to Harper and her bolts. So I chose to leap through his attack, finding some merit in my previous training with the hoops.

Not-a-true-elf scowled when he missed, and I wasn’t standing where he wanted me to. Now he has his back exposed to me, a chance to give him another bloody gash that came unexpectedly quickly. 

Only a fool wouldn’t have taken it and I wasn’t one.

So as soon as I landed in the roll, I put all my strength into my legs, at least as much as my still-healing calf would let me, and with a growl, threw myself at him. My speed wasn’t enough, though. 

That or the baker was damn good with her crossbow.

Freyde’s exposed back was within reach of my claws when I had to give up the attack and twist to avoid a bolt that flew just past his elbow. It was that or pull another pointy stick out of my body a moment later.

What I couldn’t figure out was how she did it. She couldn’t see me behind the slow-elf, yet somehow managed to take that shot. Were bakers always this precise? Not the question I was going to ask her right now. She wanted to dance with us. So I decided to get to know her up close. Meaning my target had changed from the bookkeeper to Harper.

Once she was out, this fight would be much easier, right? It was common game sense to get rid of the long-range strikers first. At least that’s how I remembered it from my gaming years.

Her eyes widened when I rushed out to get her, Freyde reacting in the same way. I don’t know what he was thinking or what his calculations told him. My body language may have fooled him like before. Because the fact was he didn’t anticipate me going after Harper and responded too late, unable to stop me. Even with my injured leg, I was more agile and faster than him.

Did she shoot me in the leg intentionally? If so, if she wanted to slow me down from the start, that was brilliant of her. She just underestimated my regeneration and willpower. I suffered through far worse and without any skill to dampen the agony.

The baker gave me two surprises. She didn’t panic. She didn’t try to run away. On the contrary, she loaded the crossbow with such speed that it rendered me speechless. When she aimed again, I was left with two options.

Avoid the shot and give her another chance to reload, or risk a charge forward? Not wanting to allow her another shot or Freyde on my tail to catch up, I chose to trust my barrier skill for once. [Master’s Shield] wasn’t a weak skill. I didn’t think so. It was just a matter of facing the right opponents.

Ready for her shot, I formed a glass-like barrier in front of my chest the moment the bolt left her crossbow. 

The impact shattered the magic shield like a thrown stone breaking a pane of glass. 

So many things happened in that one moment. My instincts kicked in, and I put my hand in the path of the bolt just in time for it to hit my forearm and not the heart she was aiming for. Yeah, it shattered yet again. But the barrier slowed the projectile down enough that it wasn’t able to pierce me through. It only stuck in my hand. Still hurt like hell, though.

Of course, I felt the ten percent of the mitigated impact that weighed on my body. Pressure so negligible that I would dare say my regeneration was hardly needed. It was just one bolt, after all. If there were a hundred of them, that would be a different story.

Without slowing down, I yanked the damn feathered stick out of my hand and bared my fangs in a wide grin. Now it was my turn.

Harper’s eyes widened even more, and panic flashed across them. Already holding another bolt in her hand, she took a step back, glimpsing at the Meneur. A brief glance, telling me that even taurus would be a problem. I just didn’t know what kind, what was his magic? Earth, fire, air, water, I knew from Aspen that magic wasn’t that simple. 

Even for me, it was possible to learn how to form mana into all those. But the problem was to master it. For most magicians, that meant focusing on one element, one school of magic. All the more so after their evolution. So what was his chosen school of magic? The mind was utterly out of the question, nor was he a healer. Was it shadow magic like Ward’s then?

Whatever it was, I couldn’t change my target a second time, not when I was so damn close. Just a quick few steps away. I closed the distance in a heartbeat, even before she could reload. With a hurting calf as a reminder of her aim, I slashed my claws across the hand holding the crossbow. 

Her cry of pain made my ears ring.

Unfortunately, she managed to put her firearm away in time before I could cut the string. That crossbow literally shattered my hopes of using the barrier against them. With their levels, I thought that if I stuffed all the mana I could into it, it would withstand their attacks. 

Tools didn’t cross my mind. 

They were something humans created to overcome their weaknesses, and I had no idea exactly where they fit in this system-driven world. Were they part of it, or outside the rules? Well, the weapon that Harper was now having trouble holding was strong enough to go against a skill, albeit at a measly level 16.

It was a shame I couldn’t put more mana in the barrier. I had plenty of it, especially since I was restricted from using [Tail of Poison Empress]. At first, it wasn’t that obvious to me, but the more I used [Master’s Shield], the more I realized that no matter what I did, no matter how much mana I used, it didn’t get stronger. The skill had an upper limit. 

“Meneur, what the fuck!” Harper shouted at the terran, angry at his lack of action. Thinking quickly, she made the crossbow disappear in her spatial tool, replacing it with an orb the size of a tennis ball. Before I could stop her, she smashed it on the ground.

The next second I was deafened by an explosion and enveloped in a white cloud. A grenade of some sort. Fortunately, not the limb-ripping kind, but the smokescreen type. Inhaling it made me cough, but the notification of poisoning didn’t pop into my mind. I didn’t smell any particular scent, and tasting it on my tongue led me to conclude that it was flour.

What kind of fucking flour could block perception?!

The outer domain was utterly gone, and the inner one was like TV grains. All I could perceive was the fine flour dust around me.

I moved, not knowing if Squad Four had a way to see me and, most importantly, to get out of this damn flour dust. It was truly difficult to breathe. The idea of creating a spherical barrier like the one in the training room at the City Hall crossed my mind, but it was already too late.

Moving a half-dozen steps made no difference. The white mist still surrounded me. Pondering how wide the area of effect of this flour grenade was, I tried flapping my wings and using Sage to disperse this annoying powder.

When Deckard’s laughter echoed in my mind, I nearly jumped out of my skin. “I told you it was just an overgrown duster.” Gritting my teeth, I growled loudly, letting my frustration show. Not only was he making fun of Sage, but his perception was good enough to see through this white hell. I realized too late that I had let the others know where I was.

They say that if you lose one sense, the other will grow stronger. Now I couldn’t see shit. So was that why I heard the bowstring sound so clearly? I didn’t think it would be so fast. Perhaps it had something to do with the dust. Just another question that went through my mind as I rolled aside while forming a barrier.

Then, when a bolt hit my shield despite my efforts to dodge and the explosive speed, I held my breath, anticipating more pain. It didn’t come, though. Bolt bounces off the barrier. A miracle has happened, and it blew my mind. Sure, it wasn’t a direct hit, and the projectile just grazed the barrier. It was still something that never happened. 

“Damn it Harper, how am I supposed to find her in this?” came the voice of a furious Freyde to my ears. Not-so-quite-elf was to my eight o’clock. That was the best way to navigate this white world.

“If Meneur had used his fucking magic, I wouldn’t have had to use it!” the baker barked back. One o’clock. Where was the taurus?

The bookkeeper grunted. “If you hadn’t shot at her, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Kiss my ass!” she hurled an insult at him. “Do you even use your eyes? She has a fucking shield. She wasn't giving it her all until I shot her.” I heard her smirk. ”Do I have to spell it out for you? That slave chick was just playing with you.”

There was no contempt in her voice when she called me a slave. I thought of her as a baker based on her Class, and much to my displeasure, that’s what I was. Still, I didn’t avoid repeating the mistake, and a disapproving growl escaped my throat.

“There!” I heard Freyde at my rear and moved before the sound of plucked crossbow string reached my ears. That was when I found the taurus mage. Or rather, his magic. In the white flour mist, it looked like a bolt of blazing lightning. 

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