Chương 44: The Stormsword's Rising

Alcyr's first thought was that the skill description was… singularly unhelpful. He tried checking whether the notification could be expanded or elaborated upon, but there was nothing more provided — not even the so-called 'aria' the description mentioned. Well, it's still a weapon skill. Presumably, once I wield a sword and enter combat, I will be able to discern what it does. Seeing as there was nothing else he could gain from reading the Status Screen, Alcyr called an end to the session early. The oracle nodded.

She gracefully stood from her chair and left, seemingly unaffected by her wounds. Her bodyguards stiffly followed behind her, their anger at Alcyr clear. There was an awkward moment as they slammed the door behind them shut, leaving him and Lenore alone.

"I apologise for that," he said.

"I wasn't prepared for… well, that."

"It's a Mystery awakening, isn't it?" she asked. When Alcyr looked at her questioningly, she shrugged.

"Something like this happened to me once before. Judging by your reaction, I'm guessing the Path of Violence?" He saw little point in hiding. Lenore seemed knowledgeable on the subject, and she would forget anything he said by the next loop anyway.

"My Mystery offered me a skill mutation." She blinked.

"Those are a relatively common bonus for higher potency Mysteries. Is it for the Awakened stage?" He hesitated for a moment, then decided to answer truthfully.

"Aspiring." Her eyes widened slightly. After a few seconds, she breathed out, slightly excited.

"An Epic-rarity mutation, then. This is cause for celebration. Congratulations."

"I would like to test it now, if possibly," he said.

"The skill description left much to be desired."

"That happens surprisingly often at the higher rarities." She thought for a moment.

"The town minister has an armoured training room in his manor. We can borrow it for an hour to test it without onlookers or risk of collateral damage. I'll spar with you." Alcyr was touched by her offer.

"Do you not wish to return to the tavern to sleep?"

"It's only for an hour. And this is more interesting." She paused.

"Unless you wish to keep it a secret? I'll understand if you do not wish for me to see it." He shook his head.

"No, it's fine. There's little point in hiding it anyway." The new skill had replaced his Sword Discipline skill, so unless he gave up on using the sword entirely, there was no disguising the ability as something minor the moment he entered combat. Lenore was a Master-tier combatant and someone with a wealth of skill knowledge. She would make for an excellent sparring partner. He was not going to let the opportunity go to waste. Moments later, they were in a room armoured with steel walls and a floor of sand.

The area was littered in slash marks and discoloured burns.

"The place is built to withstand even high-level Artes and skills. Feel free to let loose," Lenore said as she hefted a training halberd.

"I will be fine."

"If you insist." He frowned, idly swinging his training sword.

"I just… need a moment? I feel strange."

"Skill mutations are usually like that," Lenore assured him.

"The sudden shift in mental and muscle memory is always difficult to adjust to. It's worse at higher levels or if the upgrade in rarity is significant."

"I see." He hesitated.

"The skill mentioned an aria. It asked me to chant." Lenore looked pleased.

"An incantation. That is a very good sign. It means your skill has some roots in divinity. You should try it now." Alcyr grimaced.

"I have no idea what the aria is. The skill description did not tell me."

"Oh. That is unfortunate." Lenore's expression turned considering.

"I've heard of such cases before. The chances of someone receiving a random incantation-type skill from another realm are very rare. The solution is usually to travel to the world where the skill originates from to learn its history there."

"That's… not really an option right now."

"Yes, yes, I know. I was getting to that point. Consulting an academy's library on the skill's lore or legend could help. Otherwise, a worldly bard who travels across the Hundred Worlds might know the exact words to trigger the skill's full might." He grimaced. A bard… This was sounding worse and worse by the minute. Did he really get unlucky with his mutation and end up with a crippled skill?

"Is the aria truly that important?" he tried.

"Yes," Lenore answered without hesitation.

"Skills within the higher rarities aren't simply passives. Some say they are called the 'Epic' or 'Legendary' rarities precisely because they carry a fragment of storied divinity within them. Their history is thus important to their function. They can work without their aria, of course, but the incantation elevates them to something… more. Something worthy of the 'Epic' or 'Legendary' rarity, rather than just a mundane passive ability like the skills between the Common, Uncommon, or Rare rarities."

Just when he thought his luck had changed, it just had to give one final kick to sour his mood. Lenore noticed his quiet dismay and chuckled.

"Relax. Even without the aria, it's still very powerful. Did you use the mutation to upgrade your Sword Discipline skill?" Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. He nodded.

"It seemed the best choice."

"It is. Based on the appraisal orb reading we did on you weeks ago, not only is it your highest-level skill, but it's also your primary weapon skill as well. You should see a drastic increase to your combat capabilities now." That was slightly reassuring. Alcyr sighed, then straightened.

"Let's begin." He shifted, alien muscle memory guiding his body into an unfamiliar stance. Lenore raised her weapon in response. I should keep my expectations low. I'm sure it's nothing special. How strong could a crippled skill be, anyway? Alcyr raised his sword and charged at Lenore, fully anticipating complete disappointment at his newest skill.

Seconds later, the reinforced training room came crashing down on them both as the armoured walls were all utterly destroyed by a single one of Alcyr's 'restrained' strikes.

"It will cost me a fair bit of coin, but the minister has agreed to forgive us for the damages." Alcyr had the decency to at least look ashamed.

"Sorry. I will pay in full for this, and—" Lenore waved her hand.

"It's fine. It was my idea." She looked at him with an expression mixed between exasperation and fascination.

"Though of course I would not have recommended using the room if I knew you were already a Master beforehand." The secret was out of the bag. Alcyr coughed sheepishly.

"In truth, I did not think it would matter that much." Lenore sighed.

"There's a big difference between an Epic-rarity skill in the Low Elite tier and one in the Low Master tier, Alcyr. Skill levels have a much greater impact at higher levels. You should have known this."

"I did, but… I underestimated the effects." How could he have known? It was the first time he wielded an Epic-rarity skill, and one instantly bolstered to level 61 at that. He felt like an ignorant peasant suddenly given the full, unadulterated power of a thunderstorm — which, to be fair, wasn't so far from the truth.

The training room wasn't completely destroyed, but that lone, unrestrained attack from Alcyr's training sword had damaged it greatly, shattering the roof beam and tearing a giant vertical rent across all four amoured walls of the room. He hadn't even used an Arte. That was a single swing from a sword skill. Lenore, however, had turned out to be completely fine.

Her training halberd had been destroyed, but she had somehow deflected the strength equivalent of a raging storm away from her without so much as breaking a sweat. It was more proof that there was more to her than met the eye, but for the moment, Alcyr was ironically more concerned with his powers than hers.

"Let's head for the fields outside town," Lenore suggested.

"We won't be unseen, but at least won't have to worry about property damage there."

"You are still willing to help me? I nearly killed you."

"No, you didn't." She smiled slightly, as if she found his statement adorable.

"Do not worry about my safety. The day you are able to kill me is much further than you think, if it ever comes at all." He huffed in amusement.

"Fine. I will hold you to that. Let's head outside town, then." It was time to see what the skill could really do.

It could not really be called a duel. Though they used real steel rather than training weapons, it was clear they were both holding back. Alcyr restrained himself from activating his Artes, even when his violent blood sang for him to do so. Lenore, likewise, refrained from using the full breadth of her abilities and instead acted as a foil to bring out his skill's hidden depths. A crowd had gathered upon the walls, spellbound as the two Masters fought against each other upon the snowy plains outside town.

Guards, mercenaries, shopkeeps, and lesser nobles scrambled against each other alike to get a better view, the enmity between social classes lost before the majesty displayed before them. Alcyr ignored the onlookers, focused entirely on the enigmatic and awesome might of his newest skill. He had been utterly wrong: Tempestuous Sword Dance was an incredible ability, even without the aria.

In its current basic form, the Epic-rarity skill simply acted as a passive ability that bolstered his swordplay, similar in function to what Sword Discipline did. However, comparing the two felt sacrilegious, as the former was so much more formidable that it felt like comparing a sun to a candle. Never before had his swings or thrusts carried so much power, nor was his footwork ever so agile.

Aside from the enhanced strength, speed, and precision, his swordplay was influenced by the skill's invisible hands — muscle memory guiding him to execute manoeuvres and techniques he had never even before dreamed of. It was undeniably a transcendent style of swordsmanship. The skill's artistry was best summed up by the way it forced him to move. A duellist might parry or deflect. A knight might instead rely on strength and the weight of heavier weapons.

In either case, something was lost — defence over offence, adaptability over speed, and so on. Neither was strictly better or more important than the other, and thus a talented bladesman would master different sword styles such that he had the best option for every scenario. Tempestuous Sword Dance, however, had no such weakness. At its core, it was a viciously relentless sword style, fitting of its name. Every swing was violent, powerful, and sudden.

Aggression boiled beneath his every motion, making them fast and devastating. Yet while Alcyr attacked, attacked, and attacked, he somehow found himself deflecting every blow that came his way — almost as if each parry were the after-effect of his previous swing, or the prelude to his next attack. It was mindboggling. Defence was blended so seamlessly into overwhelming offence that even Alcyr — who was executing the sword style himself — could no longer see where a parry began and where an attack ended.

No movement was wasted, nor was an ounce of force ever not redirected and multiplied back towards his opponent. He did some of the most complicated sequences of feints, counters, and fencing he had ever seen with an effortlessness bordering on inattention. His sword was simply there wherever and whenever he needed it, and it always struck with a vigour so ferocious that it never failed to leave Lenore reeling or flying back.

Just with the masterwork swordstyle alone, Alcyr was already more than satisfied with the skill. But in the back of his mind, his greed kept reminding him that the Tempestuous Sword Dance was not yet complete. The aria that summons the storm. How much stronger would the skill be once he unleashed it? It was a question he fiercely wanted answered, but alas. For the moment, he would have to be content with his 'limited' gains. Fighting Lenore was an interesting experience.

The woman allowed Alcyr to rampage against her to his heart's content, never backing down nor bending under his unrelenting assault. It almost felt as if her every move was made to help tease out the buried strength of his skill, shaving away any lingering awkwardness to his stance and pushing him to optimal performance. It was strange. He had never known a sparring opponent more… solicitous to their partner's desires. That unhesitant deference and dedication to his wants was almost intimate.

After an hour, they finally ceased. Alcyr was surprised to find himself disappointed.

"I think that's enough," Lenore said.

"Take some time to digest what you've learnt. We will continue this when we reach back to the stronghold tomorrow."

"You are willing to continue spending your precious time to train me?"

"It's hardly a waste. You are interesting. At the very least, I hope to find out how exactly you grew so strong in so short a time. Going from Low Elite to Low Master in the span of a month… When news of this gets out, I suspect you will likely be drowned in questions, assassination attempts, or marriage proposals." Alcyr chuckled.

"Some of those, I deal better than others." He probably should have a good excuse ready when he does eventually crawl out of the Well; otherwise, things would not end well for him.