Chapter 9: Old guys are mean!

Ardale had to give herself credit for that one; it had been a brilliant strike!

Under better circumstances, she might have made an effort to save that foolish woodcutter who’d blundered foolishly into his death (emphasis on might have) but there was nothing she could have done for him after the skarn begun frenziedly ripping into him. No man would have been able to survive the wounds they’d inflicted on him.

Honestly, seeing him in that state had been unsettling, even for her cast iron stomach. He’d still been talking too, undoubtedly lost in some feverish reality his mind had coaxed him into, to spare him the reality of his horrific suffering. He’d probably been lost in a beautiful dying dream.

Well, with that being the case, wouldn’t it have been a waste of his life not to take advantage of the fact that all the skarn in the clearing were now gathered around him, each hoping to get a piece of him to play with? Since he was going to die anyway, then it may as well happen in support of the cause!

…the cause being the successful completion of Ardale's mission!

At her current level of mastery, [Tornado Strike] took nearly three minutes of concentration for Ardale to use successfully. The results were always well-worth the wait. The spell would deal a single, utterly devastating blow to a target and everything else around it in a seven-meter radius.

Which was exactly what she’d done!

The destroyed bodies of the skarn flew every which way imaginable, all of them having been grinded into unrecognizable chunks of pulped flesh. Their ruin brought a smile of dazed wonder to Ardale’s face: just look at how powerful she was! Look at what she could achieve when she set her mind to it! The satisfaction she felt in that moment was what really made her job worth it. Not the money and the luxuries it bought, not the accomplishments and the respect it forced others to give her…

…no, it was the simple joy of realizing that she was amazing.

Well, time to finish up and go home, she thought with a smirk.

Ardale leapt to the ground from her perch on the tree branch, and began scanning the area carefully using her imbuement, [Discerning Eye]. With her eye, it wouldn’t take her long to locate the keystone which permitted entry into the dungeon. That must have been what the skarn had been directed to find, hence all the digging and the destroyed trees.

The keystone was what essentially determined ownership of a dungeon. Without it, you couldn’t get inside of it to begin with. More importantly, control of the stone meant you could charge for access, which was the business model of the Aureum Order and to a lesser extent, the Adventurer’s guild. Dungeons drew challengers from all over the world who sought to plumb their depths and return with riches and rare and powerful items. Taking a cut of the loot from those who survived and returned in triumph, netted the owners incredible profits.

So much profit in fact, that underground criminal networks were now getting involved, and trying to stake their claims. One of these groups must have been who the Barrows had run afoul of. The poor fools.

A distinct, golden flash shone brilliantly before Ardale’s eye, causing her to smile once more.

“Fooooound you,” she said smugly to herself as she stood before a large tree and carefully felt around its trunk. Soon her fingers found a small black stone the size of a small pebble. From the feeling of tremendous power she sensed lurking just beneath its humble exterior, she knew this was it. Triumph flowed through her once more.

“And that is how it’s done,” she started to say, when a fist came lashing out of nowhere and caught her full force in her solar plexus, dropping her to her knees as she gagged in pain.

“No, that’s how it’s done, actually,” said an older man’s voice. Before her now stood that mercenary who’d been talking to that dying boy earlier, the skarn’s leader. But he was supposed to be dead! She been certain that her [Tornado Strike] had killed all of them.

“Ah, ah!” the smiling man said, while tapping the side of his head. “You gave yourself away just before you unleased that spell, missy. You need to have a cooler head than that if you’re going to drop ordnance on that scale. You anticipated killing me so much that I could practically taste your bloodlust. Pretty amateurish, really! I almost feel bad for you…

His booted foot lashed out and caught Ardale full force in the ribs, sending her flying into the air and crashing into a tree.

“Except, I don’t spare feelings of pity on cowards who try to kill me from a safe distance!”

Ardale stumbled to her feet, in pain, but also enraged.

“If you hate cowardice so much, then what do you call attacking me from the safety of a [Mind Veil]?” she bit out angrily.

“Well, I’d call that tit for tat, personally,” the old man said amiably. “Thanks for finding the keystone by the way. Now I can finally get out of this latrine pit of a forest! That puts me in a good mood, little lady, and I’d take advantage of that if I were you. Go on, get lost.”

“Well, you’re not me, and the only thing I’m taking from you will be my stone.”

“You really can’t be serious— he began to say, but in a breath, Ardale was at him. [Grace of the wind] gave her such blinding speed that it would have been nearly impossible to track her movements with a naked eye. Within a mere moment she would retrieve the stone, and this old fool would be bleeding out on the soil—why was he smiling?

With one hand, he slapped away her dagger strike. With the same hand, he backhanded her across the face and sent her sprawling into the dirt. Then, he picked up her dagger and examined it carefully, giving it an appraising look.

“Ohhhh, this is nice. Mithril alloy if I’m not mistaken! Must have set you back quite a few coins.

“Pure Mithril!” Ardale hissed angrily as she climbed to her feet.

“Uh, no. And if you paid for a pure mithril blade, you got taken for a ride. But hey, mithril alloy’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s kind of like you, Ardale Langier: second-best. Or should I say, second-rate.”

Having said that, he tossed the dagger back to her with a smirk. Ardale caught it silently and stared murderously at him. “That is not my last name.”

“Of course, it isn’t,” the old soldier agreed. “Not anymore, it’s not. You lost that privilege when your big brother inherited your daddy’s title. Quite the scandal, wasn’t it! The famous Count Vernon Langier, hero of the great war, taking an elf as a mistress! Breeding himself a nasty little mixed-blood abomination, and then raising it alongside his trueborn children!”

The old man shook his head in dismay before continuing. “I’m telling you, if some Elf whore came up to me and claimed she was carrying one of my bastards, I’d stomp her head flat and then stomp her belly flatter. Don’t misunderstand, I can’t blame a fellow for wanting a taste of that exotic quim, but letting you get carried to term? Your father was a great warrior but an even greater fool.”

“If you say one more thing regarding my family, I will kill you.” Ardale said coldly.

“You already tried, milady. And now we know who stands taller between the two of us. Now kindly piss off. I’m going to turn this rock in and see if I can’t grab a steak and onion pie back in civilized lands. All this conversating with a half-elf is bound to ruin my appetite if it continues—

“You used [Aura of Stagnation] to interfere with my perception of time. That’s how you could counter my attacks even when I was using [Grace of the wind].”

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“Oh? You know about that imbuement?”

“I do,” Ardale continued. “I also know that it’s a rare skill passed down among the Nine sworn swords of the Crown’s Blade, the elite bodyguards of our nation’s royalty. I also recognize the Imperial school’s unarmed techniques! But wait! All Nine Blades are currently serving in the capital! Where would some old bastard like you acquire that level of training? A member of the Crown’s Blade serves for life! Unless…

“Hey,” the old man cut in sharply, a deep frown now creasing his brow.

“It would seem that I’m not the only one who’s fallen from a lofty height, hmm?” Ardale sneered. “For I now recall hearing the tale of one of the Blades being caught red handed dealing in royal artifacts for the black market! Can you imagine it? One day you’re the peerless shield of a king and the next, you’re a pathetic sell-sword with naught but skarn for company! Of course, I’m just a lowly half-elf, how could someone like me ever understand that feeling of loss? Hmmm? Rathen Culner?”

“I would stop right there if I were you,” Culner said quietly.

“The other Crown Blades are the sons and daughters of nobility. Rarified bloodlines. You were just an uplifted commoner who garnered fame for your skills with an axe! Everyone said you weren’t worthy of what you’d been given, that one day you’d disgrace yourself, and what do you know? They were right! You couldn’t settle for what you were given, you just had to have more! It all goes to show, really."

"And what's that?" He asked.

“That you can paint a cock’s wings golden, but that won’t make it an eagle.”

“I believe I’ve changed my mind,” Culner replied calmly. “I believe I’m going to kill you, now. You and me, girly. One-on-one. Can you handle it?”

Ardale held out her daggers eagerly. “Challenge accepted, you pathetic has-been!” she shouted.

Culner took the keystone, wrapped his red cloak around it and it, then tossed it aside. Next, he reached over his shoulder and unslung a segmented axe which snapped into place when he gave it a forceful swing. Then he stood there, weapon held over his shoulder and stared at her with a strange smile slowly growing on his face.

“Well?” Ardale demanded. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Oh, we’ve already started, you silly little brat. You just haven’t realized it yet,” he said smugly.

“What are you talking about—

The skarn hissed and launched itself at her. Instinct alone saved her, compelling her to roll forward and avoid its strike. Rising quickly to her feet she lashed out with her blades, killing it, but another one took its place. There were dozens of them! Where in the hell had they come from!

As she wondered this, Culner launched his attack, swinging his axe mightily, and nearly taking her head then and there. She tried to counterattack, but a skarn jumped in front of her dagger, taking the strike in his place. She spun in a furious circle, hoping to frighten them back, but the skarn were all far bolder than usual, working well together with none of their usual cowardice.

Culner! The old bastard was directing them and fighting her at the same time!

Culner grinned at her.

“You really thought you got to me by regurgitating my shameful past at me, didn’t you? Well, let me tell you something girl: It’s nothing I haven’t heard a thousand times before! Was I supposed to break down mentally because some snotty little shite like you was talking down to me in her meanest mean girl voice? Grow up!”

“I thought we were going to settle this one-on-one!” Ardale shouted.

“Of course, you did. Because I wanted you to think that. Because I’m smarter than you are! You were so focused on trying to get one over on me that it was a breeze to mentally dull your senses and render you blind to my reinforcements! You’re dancing in the palm of my hand, sweetness, but sadly, I’m about to close my fist.”

“You god’s bane, ballless coward!” Ardale yelled in frustration. “Have you ever had any honor?”

“Very little, as a matter of fact,” Culner replied. “You nobly born twits always go on about honor like it was as useful as butter. Let me tell you something: butter is very useful. Butter adds flavor. Butter adds texture. Butter goes great with meat or bread. Butter can be measured. Just between you and me, butter also works great on those long nights in the field when it’s too cold to spit in your palm, if you get my less than subtle insinuation!

“But can honor do anything like that? Hell no! Hurray for butter. Honor can go flense itself. Now let’s get back to the part where I kill you for being an uppity little half-breed who's waaaay out of her depth but too stupid to back down—

Suddenly Culner's eyes widened, as his instincts began screaming a warning to him.

"WHAT THE HELL?!” he cried.

Culner dived desperately to the side as a huge boulder came flying into the clearing, smashing directly into the skarn and crushing many of them before skidding to a gore-encrusted halt.

He then stared in confusion as something came racing close behind it, something moving so swiftly that he couldn’t perceive it, no matter how hard he tried to focus his gaze. An inhuman roar then thundered throughout the night, a window-rattling exhalation of such hideous anger that even Culner momentarily quavered at the sound of it.

“OPPRESSOR! OPPRESSSSSSOOOOOOOOR!!!!!!” screamed a voice made unhinged by madness.

Culner couldn’t believe it. It was that kid. He was back somehow, now made whole, and wielding the evilest looking piece of steel that the old mercenary had ever seen in his life.

By the gods’ grace, where did he find that odious looking thing? He thought to himself.

“I thought you were COOL, old man. I thought you were REAL COOL. But you’re just another liar in a world full of liars, aren’t you?” heaved the kid. "I see you now. ALL CHAINS WILL BE SHATTERED!"

“Uh, what?” Culner asked in sincere confusion.

“DEATH TO ALL OPPRESSORS!”

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