Chapter 747: Training in the Rain

“Whoa! That's incredible!” Bjorgrund cried, shielding his eyes from the blasts of heat. “I can't believe this!”

“Me neither,” Alex paused, “I've got a plan if you'd like to help me.”

“What is it?” Bjorgrund asked.

“I'm going to do something I think I should call Operation Aeld-Sword-Staff,” he said.

“That doesn't sound like a very good name,” the giant said.

“I get that a lot. But anyway, while I'm doing that, I'll also be learning a bunch of combat spells, and—” He looked at his bottle of soul substance. “Getting my mana pool ready for seventh, eighth and ninth-tier summoning spells.” Alex looked at the giant. “Every day, when I'm done working on those things, I’m hoping you and I can do some sparring. We were both so much better just from today.”

“No objections here, I’d love to!” the giant cried.

“Great, I'm hoping you and your father can help me with some battle strategies: The idea is to get every trap in the sanctum ready,” he said.

“And then what?”

“And then, my friend,” Alex said. “It’s show time. I’ll be turning myself into bait for those hunters by opening a portal, and stepping out of it for a bit so they know where I am. We’re going to lure the hidden church, but it'll be on our terms, for a change. They’ll be meeting you, me and a whole lot of my summoned monsters…including one particular summons that'll be a real nasty surprise for them.”

“Then what?” the giant asked.

“And then, we're going to kill them.”

###

Theresa felt phantom pains throughout her body.

Even though months had passed, she could still feel the bite of the First Apostle’s blade cutting into her. She dreamt about it. She thought about it during the day. It was her first thought when she got up in the morning, and her last one when she went to bed at night.

Everyday, she remembered the pain.

She remembered the bloody ruin he’d left of her body.

She remembered gasping for breath, bleeding to death in the snows of the far north.

She remembered that terrible moment when her dying body began turning ‘warm again’, and she remembered the exhaustion. The afterworld called to her, and she’d nearly answered. Some nights, she would awake in the middle of the night, screaming, dreaming of flashing blades, metal gauntlets, and the freezing ground combined with that seductive, welcoming song of death.

She’d been closer to dying than she’d ever been in any battle since they’d left Thameland. Merzhin had healed her physical body, but the scars and trauma still lived on in her mind, still needing to heal.

And the worst part of the secret church’s attack on them?

Was that the monster who had nearly taken her life was still out there, looking to finish what he’d started. For now, all she could do was stew, and grow more frustrated. Ever since she, Brutus, Selina and Alex had left their sleepy hometown in the Thameish countryside, she had fought to protect her family.

Without hesitating, she'd thrown herself at the very first silence-spider they’d been attacked by, determined to kill it with one of her great-grandfather’s swords, regardless of how thick its shell was, but she hadn’t been able to.

Though she’d hunted a range of beasts throughout the Coille forest, she hadn't been able to fight the Ravener-spawn off on her own. At the time, she knew she had to do better, and she would.

And, when they’d encountered the Hive-Queen in the Cave, she’d struck the final blow, stopping her in that dungeon. Since then, she’d grown, trained, and learned new skills, using them against monsters, cultists, even demons, and winning. She'd slain many monsters, and left many battered. She had even gone against enemies as deadly and as powerful as greater demons like Zonon-In, or the hidden church at Uldar’s Rise, beating many of their opponents.

Even against greater odds—or foes more powerful or more numerous—she had fought back and been able to walk away.

…until the First Apostle had bled her like he was butchering prey.

She hadn't felt so helpless since that first fight in the Cave of the Traveller. On top of the grim memories of the First Apostle and what he’d cost them physically, she could still see him looking proud, righteously ravaging their entire lives, leaving her constantly worried for Alex, and filled with rage at her own helplessness as his memory curdled inside her.

And her only way of coping was by training.

Training.

Something she’d done every single day since Alex left.

Even now.

On the rainiest day Generasi had seen in months, the huntress was outside—in the courtyard of the villa—drilling with the Twinblade. Rain poured down her hair and face—soaking her clothing—but she couldn't care less.

Her death stalker face was on full display. Her eyes were focused, her breathing even. Droplets of rain water ran down the shining steel of her weapon. She stood for a time—still, in a fighting stance—feeling the touch of the droplets on her skin.

The huntress imagined the First Apostle standing before her, his visor down his blade raised.

She clenched her jaw.

And sprang.

In silence, she threw herself at the imaginary holy warrior, the Twinblade making twin cuts through the air with every slice. Rain droplets split in their path, steel gleamed in the grey light as her breath misted.

In front of her, she imagined the image responding, striking back with its sword, throwing a blow with a gauntlet, casting spells through divinity. She parried the attacks, deflecting the magic, dodging the divinity, and striking at his blade and fist.

“Faster,” she whispered, her voice growling, “He was faster. I have to be even  faster.”

Drawing on her enhanced life force, she pushed herself to the limit. Then pushed to go beyond. Her swords blurred, blades reflecting in the rain, firm footfalls splashing through water collecting on the cobblestones.

“Faster!” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Her body blurred, the Twinblade hissed with her.

“Faster, faster!”

She remembered a day, many months ago, when she’d sparred against Grimloch and Hart and had blocked a blow from Hart’s enormous sword, despite being in an impossible position to do so.

To this day, she had no idea what she’d done…but it was something much deeper, a deeper enlightenment, a new power that she could draw on…

And she wanted to find it. She had to.

The First Apostle was even quicker than Hart was.

“Faster, faster, faster!” she demanded.

Her imaginary opponent fought with rising speed, Theresa fought back,  forcing herself to match him. Her body flowed from one stance to another, and from one strike to the next; she improvised against his attacks, trying new moves, chasing that sliver of enlightenment.

But, it remained elusive.

Even as she moved faster, she found no hint of a new and waiting path.

Slowly, she began falling behind the First Apostle’s speed.

The phantom blade cut into her flesh, making her old wounds burn.

Growling, she fought back, pushing herself as hard as she could.

And something shifted.

Theresa felt her perception of space begin changing as a memory drifted through her thoughts. After the ambush, when she, Brutus, Birger, Bjorgrund and Claygon were gripped in Alex's power and teleporting to Merzhin for healing, she remembered being teleported at other times.

Herself and the Twinblade.

Herself and her weapon.

The pair moving as one.

Something tugged at her mind, like a memory eluding her.

It was close.

But, it slipped.

As did she.

One instant she was pushing herself, forcing her body past its limit, the next, her boot slipped on the slick cobblestones, and she was off-balance, tumbling to the ground, barely holding on to the Twinblade.

She looked up from the stones, rain running down her face, the imaginary First Apostle, standing victorious above her.

The huntress imagined his blade passing through her neck; had he been real, she would be dead.

“Dammit all!” she swore, pounding the cobblestones with the pommel of her sword. “It's not good enough! I'm not good enough!”

A part of her screamed that her frustration was unreasonable; the First Apostle was a Chosen of Uldar with centuries of experience and life enforcement to empower him.

Of course, he would be able to beat her.

It made sense.

But she didn't have time for sense.

‘I have to be ready if he comes here…or if I get the chance to hunt him down. I can't let myself be a liability ever again,’ she thought. ‘It doesn't matter how much stronger or faster or more experienced he is than me. We have to kill him. And I have to be ready…after all, if I can't even fight him, then how in all the hells am I supposed to face the Ravener—and all of its monsters—with our friends? How am I supposed to face a fae lord if we have to fight this ‘Aenflynn’ guy? I have to be better. I have to—’

“Theresa?” a woman’s alarmed voice called from inside the villa.

Theresa looked up as her mother rushed outside.

She was on her feet in an instant, looking sheepish. “I'm fine, mother.”

“No, you're not,” her mother said, throwing an oiled cloak around her daughter's shoulders, wanting to keep the rain off of her, even though it was way too late for that.

“I am,” Theresa insisted. “I just have to keep practising. I'm not making any progress.”

“Yes you are!” Mrs. Lu protested. “Come, under the overhang with me before you catch your death of cold.”

“Mother, my lifeforce is enhanced, I'm not going to—”

“I don't care, Theresa, come with me!” She took her daughter by the arm and steered her to the overhang. “Do you know Brutus has been clawing at the door, trying to come to you? I had to get your father to hold him back.”

“I'm glad you did,” the huntress said, stepping under one of the villa’s overhangs, near where an iron golem stood guard. “I wouldn't want him to get wet out here.”

“But, it’s okay for you to be out here getting soaked? Theresa, you do this all the time, you eat less than you should, you sleep less than you should…we're worried about you!” her mother protested.

“I have to keep going, I'm not getting any closer to where—”

“That's not the way it looks to me, yes, you are!” the older woman said. “I've been watching you when you spar against Claygon or Grimloch, and when you practise out here by yourself, and you look so much faster and better than you did just a few months ago! I'm no swordswoman, but my eyes can hardly follow you now. You've gotten better, now you can rest and take care of yourself!”

Theresa shook her head. “Mother, you don't know the kind of monsters that wait for us. Maybe I am a little bit better than when I almost died—”

Her mother winced at the words.

“—but that's nowhere near good enough! I have to keep pushing.”

Mrs. Lu shook her head. “Theresa, you're not thinking straight. You know that you have to rest. You're not resting and I'm getting more and more worried about you!”

The hunteress tried to step away. “I need to get back to training, mother.”

Her mother stepped in front of her, spreading her arms, blocking the way. “You're going to hurt yourself if you keep this up. And that will kill your father and me and your brothers.”

“What else am I supposed to do, mother?” Theresa raised her hands in frustration, feeling helpless. “I can't exactly sit down and relax.”

“It's not just your body that needs rest, it's your mind. If you keep pushing yourself like this, one of those things will break,” Mrs. Lu warned. “You need to find a way to rest somehow. And I don't mean for you to just sit inside reading a book or knitting. My daughter is not like that; when you were young, and something troubled you, you used to always go off to the Coille to hunt. It cleared your mind and healed your soul, even when you were most upset. Why don’t you go for a hunt?”

“You expect me to just drop everything and go out to the woods for a nice little hunt?” Theresa asked.

“Maybe there's prey around here that you can hunt and that would do some good. Something to make you feel useful while giving your mind a break,” Mrs. Lu said.

Theresa paused. “You know what…you might be right. Maybe it's time I did switch things up a bit. Maybe it’s time I went hunting for something.”

“Like what?” her mother said cautiously.

“The Ravener,” she said. “I don't mean for me to track it down and fight it alone, but after all these months, we still don't know where it is. The Heroes have tried their best…but like you said, I'm a hunter. Maybe I can try and figure out where it could be.”

“What? How is that rest and anyway, where would you even begin?” Theresa's mother demanded.

“I’ll start where its trail begins.”

‘Uldar’s Rise,’ the huntress thought. ‘I'll start there, maybe team up with the Watchers that are still there, and see if I can pick up a trail. That's one way I can help Alex. That's a way I can prepare for our next step.’

###

Author's Note


Hello THIRTY-SEVEN cool fools, almighty chosen, wise sages, and mighty champions! Thank you for your support!

Weeeelcome back after the holidays! So I wanted to make a plane joke in the chapter title cuz it's chapter 747, but I couldn't make it work.

As such, I just have two words in the title that RHYME with plane.

I hope everyone had a good day yesterday whether you celebrate or not! :)

Cya tomorrow!