Chương 42: Anchor

"Hear him out?" Sage exclaimed.

"He almost shot me! He almost killed me."

"It wouldn't have hit you even if you stayed still, druid." Anchor walked toward us.

"And it wouldn't have hit the Atoning either, no matter how much he would have deserved it."

"Oh my fucking god…" I hung my head and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"I guess everyone knows."

"We are not your average Copper-and-Iron Battalion sent as fodder to the front lines," Anchor said. He drew another arrow and fired it, annihilating the base of the scarecrow and sending it toppling backward. The arrow continued on and struck the wall, but it clacked off harmlessly, like it had chosen its target and knew exactly what it wanted to pierce.

"We can deduce things with ease that other inferior Dupes wouldn't."

"So who even started the rumours?" I asked.

"Is this truly what you want to be worrying about, brother?" Brawl asked me.

"Well, I want to know who might stab me in the back, so yeah."

"Regardless, I need a team, and you need me," Anchor said.

"You're in no position to deny me."

"We have twenty-four hours still," I returned.

"Which you should use to practice with your team."

"Tell us why you, a capable archer such as yourself, wants to join our squad," I said.

"Do we not want capable archers?" Sage asked softly.

"You two are more foolish than I thought."

"No, I don't want people with ulterior motives," I said, glaring at Anchor.

"If he's that good, why doesn't he have a squad yet?"

"Oh, he's just pissy because I clocked him as an Atoning and called him a soulstealer," Anchor replied.

"You didn't actually call me a soulstealer, but thanks," I replied.

"I'll keep it in mind. Now, can you answer my question, or are you going to get lost?"

"I had a squad," Anchor said.

"But they kicked me out yesterday to replace me with a different archer. They said I wasn't a good teammate."

"Who would've guessed…?" Sage grumbled.

"They, mockingly, told me that you three were looking for an archer. So I took them up on the offer. You are my best shot at getting into the SAP. Even if the squad falls apart after entering, at least I'll be in. I'll have a chance to find some other squad and join up with them instead. Now, are you going to take my help or not?" I glanced at the iron pendant hanging around his neck. We were all Iron-tiers, like most of the other candidates. But Anchor was right.

We didn't have much of a choice, even if I didn't want him in the team. I turned to the others and said, "Look, we have to take him. We might find another archer, but not one that's this good."

"If he does not fit in with the team, then it does not matter how good he is," Brawl said.

"See, that's what they tell you in Homecamp, and it's what the different-faces tell their five-year-olds to make them clap like selkies, but it's not true," Anchor said.

"You're not going to find an archer like me—or perhaps any archer—in twenty-four hours, and even if you do, you're not going to have time to train." I sighed and shook my head.

"He's right. Sage?"

"What?"

"You have an opinion, don't you?"

"No one ever asks my opinion on anything."

"Well, here's your chance to speak up."

"I—I…" She hung her head.

"If you're giving me a shot, it's only right that you give him a shot too."

"Then it's settled," Anchor said.

"We need to practice a little, get used to fighting in each others' company."

"You are not the leader here, brother," Brawl told him.

"And who is, big guy? You? Or the Atoning? You really think I'm going to leave Gate's fate in the hands of an Atoning?"

"You really think we're in control of Gate's fate?" Sage asked mockingly. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I think—""Guys," I snapped.

"We can't start like this. I'm going to use up the rest of my arrows on that scarecrow"—I pointed to the one in an aisle over—"and then we can get started." I fired the rest of my shots from my quiver, landing a few good hits on the scarecrow's upper body, but not with any real consistency. About half of them hit its limbs—or would have if it had any, and a few struck the wall behind it. Finally, on my last shot, I used another point of Presence.

The arrow flew straight through the scarecrow's head, piercing with ease instead of sticking in. Again, Anchor gave a sarcastic clap.

"Wonderful shot, truly wonderful. Now, let's get to practicing properly." I glared at him, but chose to keep my mouth shut for the time being.

"Why did you choose archery, brother?" Brawl whispered.

"Why keep the Skill? You are no good at it." I chuckled.

"It's just novice-tier. But here's the thing—I know I can get better at it over time. Anchor probably has a lot of natural skill that doesn't come through in the System, but beyond that, he probably has a higher-tier archery Skill."

"Finally, someone noticed," Anchor replied.

"It's Journeyman tier. The highest-ranked archery skill among all the SAP candidates. I sacrificed my Art for it after I got in." I raised my eyebrows.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because one day, I am going to be Gate's best bowman."

"He's going to get himself killed…" Sage mumbled. Wonderful. We had the 'best warrior' with Brawl, and the 'best bowman' with Anchor. At the moment, I'd bet neither had an accurate assessment of their capabilities. I turned back to Brawl.

"The point is, I'm keeping my archery skill because I know I can get better at it. I may not have the natural talent, but if I keep pushing, I know I can improve. And I don't know how it's going to integrate into my fighting style yet, but we'll figure that out soon. Now, Anchor is right. We need to get training." We walked back to the sand pits—taking the short way around this time—and picked an empty pit.

"For today, we need to figure out what we're all capable of," I said.

"We need to know how much Presence everyone has, what Skills we have, what we can make them do. Got it?" Anchor drummed his fingers on his bow.

"I'm not listening to a soul-stealing—""Just do it, brother," Brawl said, looming over Anchor from behind.

"I—" Anchor looked back at the mountain of a Dupe behind him.

"Fine." All throughout the afternoon, I took stock of what we had, paying attention to their abilities. Brawl had three points of Presence, and Anchor had four, just the same as me. For Sage, it was harder to say. She couldn't condense her Presence into single points, but according to her, she had enough Presence to heal us all once. As we were sparring with the wooden weapons, the three of us Dupes taking turns against each other, I made a mistake.

I drew too close to Brawl when he was swinging his flail, and it smashed my bicep, tearing muscle and cracking bone. It may have been just a wooden flail, but Brawl swung it hard enough to do real damage. I tumbled across the sand. Anchor laughed, and Brawl rushed over to make sure I was alright. Clenching my teeth, I tried to push myself up. But my arm was good and broken, and it blazed with pain. Bone scraped itself, and it sent the same feeling as scraping your nails sideways on concrete through my body.

I toppled onto my back. Anchor laughed again, earning a glare from Brawl.

"Hold still, mothbrain!" Sage called. Morph carried her over like a spider, and she leaned forward, then held out her arm. Bone cracked again, flesh tingle, and my arm straightened out with a thud. She winced for a few seconds, but the expression quickly faded from her face. Curious—she looked genuinely in pain as she healed me, no matter how well she hid it. After a few seconds, though, the pain in my arm had disappeared.

"Now you can get up," Sage said.

"Don't do that again. I don't have unlimited Presence, and Morph still needs some."

"He needs some?"

"He won't work without a little bit of my Presence. I've deduced that it's the equivalent of you Dupes giving him one point a day." I nodded.

"Thanks, anyway."

"Now, let's stop hitting each other," Anchor said.

"Hey, you're just a guy with a bow," I countered.

"You haven't done too great in our sparring."

"That's 'cause I can't stick you with arrows right now, soulstealer." I sighed, but before I could say anything else, the dinner bell tolled. ~ ~ ~ We spent the evening much the same, trying to figure out each others' abilities, and the next afternoon, after our daily tasks, we returned to the sparring pits. They were all taken up by the time we arrived, though. I grimaced, facing the crowds of Dupes, until a voice called out, "Anchor? You really joined them?"

I glanced toward the nearest sparring pit, where three Dupes and a druid were practicing. There was nothing remarkable about them, except their druid had pointy ears. Was she an elf? I didn't have a chance to find out.

"I thought you guys didn't need any more practice," Anchor grumbled.

"At least, that was what you said when you kicked me out."

"Well, we have to get used to our new archer," the Dupe at the front of their group said.

"Good luck tomorrow, Anchor. You'll need it." He grinned.

"It's a shame you were just too slow on your way to the training pits, but everyone's betting on your squad getting eliminated first. I myself have a hundred silver sceats on it."

"A hundred?" I hissed.

"You don't want to know how he has that much coin to spare," Anchor muttered to me, and that was probably the warmest I'd ever heard his voice yet.

"I can see why you left them," I whispered back.

"I didn't. Not willingly."

"Yeah, that's even worse," I replied. I sighed. We needed to practice, and we needed to figure out what we could do.

"I propose a contest," I said.

"All of us, we'll fight all of you. Winner gets to use the sparring pit."