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April Bonus Chapter
🕑 Added 2024-04-30 23:14:24 +0000 UTCApril Bonus Chapter
Ilya walked blindly toward the old ballroom. A massive pile of books blocked her vision and strained her arms, but she was stubborn; she wouldn’t make two trips to haul all the study material to a quiet and peaceful place to read. The western wing was shrouded in shadows, and the faint smell of humidity and confinement assaulted her nostrils, but Ilya pushed forward.
The ballroom’s great doors towered over her head. Despite the rotten beam of the old kitchen already being repaired, the kids still avoided the western wing. It was too somber for their liking, although Nokti and Virdian had been picking an interest in it lately. As dark and humid as it was, it seemed the perfect place to grow a secret potato plantation. Ilya made a mental note to tell Elincia about the secret plotting the two had been doing.
With a grunt, she pushed the door open with her hip and maneuvered the pile of books through the doorway before the doors could close. Letting out a sigh of relief, she walked to the long feast table tucked to the side of the room and dropped the pile of books. Ilya vaguely remembered the ballroom during Mister Lowell’s era. She was too young, and Mister Lowell used the room to host parties and social meetings. It wasn’t a place for orphans. Now, the walls were faded and covered in dust. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting a colorful pattern on the worn wooden floor.
Ilya grabbed the pile of books and chose a cozy armchair in the corner under the windows. Satisfied with her setup, she grabbed the Book of Classes and placed it on her lap. Specks of dust danced in the sunlight streaming from the tinted windows, but she opened the book and focused on the words. There was no time to worry about cleaning. The tournament was nigh, and she felt Mister Clarke’s method was lacking in the strategy department. As a Scholar, he seemed to ignore vast avenues of knowledge regarding skills and Classes.
Could he really be from a place with no Classes?
Ilya shook her head. A land without Classes could only happen in a place without Farlands. As if such a place existed, she thought. Orcs might have enough strength to survive the monsters' attacks, but humans certainly didn’t. The rest of the races relied on the System to keep monsters away from their cities.
Ilya flipped through the pages. The Book of Classes was organized from the most common to the most exotic classes. The anonymous author seemed well-versed in the subject because even the most unusual classes had a couple of skills under their names. The book's first section was dedicated to low-rank crafting and support classes. Farmer, Lumberjack, Shepherd, Carpenter, Angler, Mender, Weaver, Cobbler.
Before Mister Clarke’s arrival, Ilya expected to turn into one of them. They weren’t the most glamorous classes nor the most flexible ones. A low-level Craftsman could do the job of half of them; a combatant with enough strength could do the rest. Farmers were the exception. A single high-level Farmer could feed fifty people for a year without breaking their back. It was a shame non-combatants got hard-stuck between levels twenty and thirty.
Ilya wondered if a Farmer could cast [Pest Ward] on their bed to get rid of fleas or if it only worked on crops. She turned the pages, mindlessly examining the charts and the unusual illustrations, until she reached the combatant's section. The first page greeted her with the chart of the Soldier Class: almost null magical capabilities, poor mobility and attack, and mediocre defense.
“Nobles wouldn’t bring a Soldier to the tournament unless there’s a shortage of fifteen-year-olds,” Ilya muttered. “Well… turning into a Soldier wouldn’t erase Zaon’s current skill with the sword. I might as well prepare for a talented Soldier.”
The Soldier page wasn’t particularly long, and the author noted that the most dangerous skill was [Puncture]. A Soldier with Puncture and level 2 Fencing might be a dangerous opponent in a real fight where a single successful stab could greatly hinder an opponent. In the tournament context, it might mean losing two barriers with a single strike in the tournament context. On the bright side, [Puncture] didn’t boost the user’s speed or strength, so the skill would be useless as long as Ilya kept them at bay.
“New strategy unlocked; don’t get hit by the opponent,” Ilya muttered. “You will get far if you keep dropping those wisdom gems.”
The following skills were more problematic. [Quick-step], marked as a rare skill for a Soldier, and [Shield Bash], which fell into the ‘common’ category. [Quick-step] significantly improved the burst speed of the user during a short period, but Ilya already had experience with it. Istvan Kiln had used the skill during their duel back at the Great Hall, and it had been hell. Each time Istvan used the skill, he managed to score a point. Without a detection skill, Ilya could barely follow the movement, and the few times she managed to dodge the blows were because she guessed the timing. [Shield Bash], on the other hand, empowered the user’s shield, transforming it into a de facto bludgeoning weapon.
“Quick-step and Shield Bash altogether might be dangerous,” Ilya muttered.
A quick glimpse into similar combat classes, such as Warrior and Brawler, revealed they had access to similar skills. Soldier skills seemed to be a baseline for the other martial classes. Warrior and Brawler added an expansive set of physically enhancing skills, Fencers had a bunch of neat movement-enhancing skills, and Sentinels had several defensive and detection skills. Knights even had an assortment of offensive magic options.
“Low-level enhancing isn’t particularly useful. Defensive skills are useless if I time my attacks correctly, and most detection skills don’t help in combat,” Ilya mentally crossed out those skills from the equation. “Offensive and movement skills will be tricky, though.”
Ilya looked at her Character Sheet with pride. It was better than she ever imagined, but she wished she had leveled twice or thrice during her First Hunt. Another skill would open new synergies. [Longstrider] would be excellent to counter [Quick-Step]; the author had marked the skill as ‘common’ on the Hunter page, but she only had access to [Entangling Vines], [Spirit Animal], and [Mark of the Hunt].
[Mark of the Hunt] was useless in an arena combat. [Spirit Animal] was a scouting tool with the slight advantage, or disadvantage, of drawing a monster's attention if the Spirit Animal was detected. In the best case, it could be used as a diversion, but a minimally intelligent opponent could see the bluff from miles away. In practice, Ilya knew she only had one useful skill. [Entangling Vines]. On the other hand, the skill was highly versatile.
“My best bet will always be to disarm them if they have offensive skills or snare them if they have movement-focused skills,” Ilya sighed. “If they have both, I might need to make them waste their mana.”
Ilya used wisps of mana to turn back the pages until she landed on the Hunter’s page.
“Mark of the Hunt, Camouflage, True Shot, Piercing Shot, Flare. Interesting, no Entangling Vines,” she read the column on common skills.
Ilya’s mind brewed a plan.
“All warfare is based on deception,” she repeated Mister Clarke’s motto. “My opponents will expect me to use Piercing Shot or True Shot paired with speed-enhancing skills.”
A mischievous smile appeared on Ilya’s face. Mister Clarke's philosophy might be the key to victory. Most common martial classes bestowed a Lv.1 mastery, whether it was [Fencing], [Longsword Mastery], [Spear Mastery], or any other variation, was irrelevant. They will try to use the close-quarter advantage against her, but little did they know Ilya had a plan.
She hummed a happy tune as she turned the pages, looking for the most common offensive skills. Shield Bash, Ghost Blade, Puncture, Crushing Blow, and even Strengthen Weapon failed if the target was out of reach.
“I wonder if I should use my vines to trap their ankles.”
Ilya stood from the armchair and opened the window. Then, she summoned a vine and coiled it around her wrist. The downside of the spell was that it would destroy the floor planks if Ilya used it indoors. She tugged with the vine to no effect. It was strong enough to stop a gnome completely, and Ilya thought it would be sufficient, at least to hinder the movement of a low-level combatant class.
“The spell isn’t fast enough to work every time. I will have to catch my opponents by surprise,” Ilya said, massaging her temples.
The problem would be to do it consistently. Despite Ilya’s mana pool being bigger than the regular low-level combatant, Ilya didn’t have unlimited mana. She could use [Entangling Vine] a set number of times.
“All warfare is based on deception,” she repeated as a mantra. Just like she had tricked Firana into thinking she could only use the ability so many times, she would have to trick her opponents. The bigger problem was that she had to fool multiple opponents. She had to trick as many as possible throughout the tournament.
That would have to wait because Ilya dispelled the vine as Risha’s heavy steps echoed around the corner of the manor. The girl shrunk under the window only as a gnome could and spied the old garden. Risha walked leisurely, stopping every few steps and crouching to uproot weeds.
“No room for freeloaders here,” Risha said as he plucked the weeds from the old rose plot in front of Ilya’s hiding spot.
Ilya rolled her eyes and channeled her mana into her body. She summoned two vines loosely coiled around Risha’s ankles without a sound, ensuring the spell didn’t touch him yet.
“A potato?” Risha said, holding a grown plant with small tubers as roots. Risha looked around in a panic as he rapidly dug with his bare hands to return the plant to the ground. Luckily for him, no hissing child jumped him before he could correct his mistake.
Risha stood and turned around to continue his way. Only then did the vines tighten around his ankles, sending him face-first against the ground. The floor trembled under Ilya’s feet, and she asked herself how much Risha weighed. Even when the rotten beam had collapsed, she hadn’t felt such strong tremors.
“Very funny, Ilya,” Risha grunted as he walked to the window, dragging the magic vines out of the ground without effort.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know what you are doing,” Ilya replied, abandoning her hideout. “Every time another kid picked me up, and I hid in the bushes, you used the excuse of weeding to go and talk to me.”
Risha raised his hands in defeat.
“So, how are you doing? I didn’t see you in the kitchen with the other kids, so I assumed something had happened,” Risha said. “Are you nervous for the tournament?”
“I’m studying. Now, leave me alone. I need silence,” Ilya replied, vaguely pointing at the books scattered on the floor.
Risha raised his hands again, and smiling, he continued around the manor, ignoring the remaining weeds. Ilya sighed. Risha was like an older brother to her, but she hadn’t made up her mind about him yet. Despite his good intentions, Risha broke Elincia’s trust. Even if Mister Clarke had decided to accept him, Ilya thought Risha still had to pay for his actions. Dearly.
Ilya’s train of thought was interrupted by Mister Clarke opening the door with his hindquarters. In his hands, he brought a wooden tray with a plate, a bowl, and a cup. He closed the door with his foot and crossed the room towards Ilya.
“The brain requires fuel to work,” He said with a hearty smile.
Ilya looked through the window. The sun was falling over the horizon, and she had missed lunchtime. Out of nowhere, her stomach growled.
“I got you a glass of water, a bowl of fruit, and a sandwich,” Mister Clarke said, putting the tray with precarious balance on the chair’s arm. “Prepare yourself for the most egg-cellent sandwich experience of your life. Look at it. Lettuce take a moment to appreciate its beauty.”
Mister Clarke’s lame puns washed away Ilya’s hunger in one fell swoop.
Ilya wondered what Elincia had seen in him. As far as Ilya knew, Elincia was into adventurous men with scars and a hundred combat stories, not a dork with the manners of a lordling. Mister Clarke sat on the floor and watched her grab the sandwich. As soon as Ilya sank her teeth into the rye bread, a wave of delight assaulted her body.
“Nothing beats a bacon-lettuce-mayo,” Mister Clarke said.
Ilya ruminated over the sandwich. Despite not knowing the details of their relationship, there might have been a way Mister Clarke won over Elincia’s heart after all.
“Did you really defeat a Wendigo?” She asked.
If Mister Clarke had managed to kill a Wendigo, Ilya thought she had a shot at the tournament.
Comments
CF Sapper
That secret plotting pun is criminal, you should be proud of yourself. I almost missed it and groaned out loud after the double take. Well done!
