Chương 53: The Marsh - 3

LANCE couldn't believe it — the battle was over and he had won! With victory came experience and he skimmed the incoming notifications: [You Have Killed Anaconda Snapping Turtle: You Have Gained XP] [You have Reached Level 43] [You Have Gained Boon Points: 4] [You Have Reached Level 44] [You Have Gained Boon Points: 5] [You Have Reached Level 45] [You Have Gained Boon Points: 2] [You Have Reached Level 46] [You Have Gained Boon Points: 6] [Unallocated Boon Points: 91] He had a lot of unallocated points to spend.

He should get on spending them!

"Hey, dad, what would you..." but he never finished his sentence. His father had floated down from his perch of absolute safety and glared at him as if he had done something wrong.

"Dad? Something wrong?" Warhol sighed.

"Son. Your form today was sloppy. If I wasn't here, that creature would've eaten you alive. Or possibly killed you with its poisons. We can't be positive, I guess, but your healing factor is limited by poisons, isn't it? Today could have gone very differently." It wasn't as if his dad was wrong. His footwork could have been better as could his thinking. The only excuse he could offer was lethargy from their huge and unconventional breakfast. That and the time of day, early morning.

He didn't bother trying to explain himself, though. He knew his father wouldn't have any excuse.

"I know, dad. I'm sorry. It was my first time fighting something like that, though. I will be better next time."

"I hope you will, son..." Warhol sighed again.

"I feel like today was a bust. Absurd, I know, since we got you some level ups. Sorry. What was it you wanted to ask me?"

"Oh, well... I was hoping you could help me allocate some points. I have ninety-one points to spend and want to know if there are things I should purchase..." He waited for his dad's customary 'hems' and 'haws.'

"Tell me your stats and what Skills and Incantations you have, first." He told his dad all that he had which... wasn't much, he realized, as he was telling his dad everything.

"Your repertoire is limited. That said, the Boons you've purchased are incredible. It would take a normal Champion years of travel, study, prayer, and monster fighting to come to earn what you've earned already. That's the problem, though," Warhol said, his tone becoming frustrated.

"As much as you have in terms of Boons, your lack of experience is limiting you. A knowledgeable Champion would have easily killed that beast with the tools you have... invest your points in you core stats, son. I think buying more Boons from the Holy Shop would only be an effective way in muddying your repertoire. Consolidate what you have by reinforcing your physical and magical self. Focus on using your existing Boons to better your fighting style." This story has been taken without authorization.

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"Alright, that sounds like a good plan. Should I invest more points into Magical Prowess, now or wait on that?" As much as he enjoyed being a Paladin, Lance looked forward to when he could act like his dad and fling spells. His father had a spell for every situation, and it was enviable, to say the least.

"Yeah, Lance, my advice from last time is pretty much the same. Focus mostly on Martial Prowess — you are a Paladin, after all — but do put a few into your Magical Prowess. I'm sure today's battle told you how important it is to have a steady flow of mana for infusing, huh?"

"Alright," Lance spoke in a whisper. For a reason he couldn't understand, his father was upset with him for asking simple questions. Was it because he needed his help more than they thought? He should keep his mouth shut on the issue.

"I'll allocate right now..." Lance opened his stats menu and saw his sheet: [Name: Lance Chaucer] [Level: 46] [Martial Prowess: 35] [Magical Prowess: 10] [Stamina: 25] [Unallocated Boon Points: 91] He started his allocation by putting ten points into Stamina. Then five points into his Magical Prowess. Martial Prowess, at his father's blunt insistence, he dumped a full thirty-five points, effectively doubling his martial might. He still had forty-one points to spend.

Did he want to hold on to those points or invest them here and now? Lance looked to his dad, but his father was distracted. They looked to the trees as if they were birdwatching. A strange looked came over his father's face. Was it peaceful? Lance put the notion away, for now, anyways. On a whim, he put another five points into his Magical Prowess. His father was right; he did see the value of keeping a pool of mana ready for infusion.

Though he had few incantations which directly drew on mana, the few he did have usually required him to infuse a certain amount of mana into the spell's incantation for it to work effectively. That, combined with elemental charges to his weapon, meant his pool depleted faster than he would have liked. Lance finished his Point allocation by placing another ten points into Stamina, making his total increase for the day by twenty... he would suffer for almost doubling his stamina in a single day, but that was fine.

His excursion was done and now he only had recuperation to anticipate; whenever he crashed, he would be at school, doing inconsequential things.

"I'm done allocating my points, dad. I have twenty-six leftover, in case you care." But his dad remained silent, staring at the trees.

"DAD?" Warhol looked to him, as if an amusing noise had come from him.

"Oh? Done. Fantastic. We should get you back to your dorm."

"You don't have anything else to teach me for the day?" he asked, not really wanting to do more, but feeling like they should, considering the timetable they were on for his training.

"Plenty of time left in the day. Couldn't we go somewhere more?" His dad didn't make a response. He was too busy in forming the foundation of the portal which would return him to campus.

"Alrighty, son! You did fine today. Work on thinking on your feet, yes? Snap decision making and rigorous thinking on the fly are the hallmarks of a hardened warrior. Go and raid your campus library. I'm sure they have many scrolls on the subject. Or talk to some combat professors. They will be able to help you, too." Father then prodded him from his back, urging him through the portal before he had a moment to ask why it wasn't him who was teaching them that stuff.

All too soon, Lance was through the portal and back in his lonely, but now clean, dormitory. Alone in his dorm with but the mud on his clothes to remind him of the excursion, Lance again felt that odd feeling tugging at his heartstrings. First, his dad tells him that training with him is going to be brutal, non-stop; then he says the training will happen every weekend, okay; and now, one brief excursion in the first quarter of the first day of the weekend. Where had his father's initiative gone?

What happened to the intensity? Had he determined over the course of his engagement with the Horror that it wasn't actually as much a threat as he thought? Was he freezing out his own son because of it? Lance sighed. He only had guesses. That and dreams...

"Crap!" he muttered. He had forgotten his bags back in the swamp. He had textbooks in those bags! Hitting the bedframe out of frustration, and doing so far too strongly, even with him pulling his punches, the frame cracked. He sighed. Just another thing his father would be paying for at term's end. He was about to go to the gym to burn off some frustration when, from the ceiling, small oval portals opened up and dropped into his room his bags. They were covered in swamp filth, but otherwise whole.

"Well, that's one less thing to worry about, I guess." Still, he figured a nice run around campus would be nice. He had to clear his head.