Runeblade-Chapter 196B2 : Training, pt. 1

Kaius leapt to the side, feeling the tepid air of the training hall caress his skin as he desperately sped away from Porkchop’s claws.

It was their first day sparring, and Rieker had him strip down to his small clothes to fight his brother. No skills, no spells. Just raw ability as they tried to tear each other to shreds.

Neither of them were shy about it—Porkchop had immediately set upon him in a furious tumble of teeth and claws. With his left hand reduced to a slowly healing nubbin, Kaius felt himself at a distinct disadvantage. Even if he had the strength to use A Father’s Gift one-handed, it didn’t mean the sword was perfect for it.

Still, blood had soaked Porkchop’s fur in half a dozen places—evidence that he could still lay down the hurt even disarmed.

Not to say that he got away scott free. Facing down the mountain of meat that was his brother, Kaius finally got an inkling of the primal terror that their enemies must have felt in their final moments.

Even without armour, it was hard to hold your ground against an apex-predator more than thrice your size bearing down on you. It was enough to make a man break out into a cold sweat.

As he moved, half his mind reacted, while the other half analysed the approaching jade claws. They were going to hit him, no doubt about that. Even with the advanced warning and boosted speed from Uncanny Dodge, and his improved footwork from Tempered By Dissonance, Porkchop was like lightning given form.

Knowing escape was impossible, he warded off Porkchop’s follow through with a rapid jab of his blade—tilting his shoulder to keep the deadly weapons from his core.

Razor sharp jade punctured his flesh like it was butter, just barely glancing off the bones off his upper arm. Muscle flayed, flapping free in a bright spray of blood, dousing his body in what felt like its fifteenth coat of the visceral paint. As the slab of meat flopped open, Kaius caught the glinting white of his bone out of the corner of his eye.

It was cracked.

He grunted, shunting off the blinding white flare of agony as Rapid Adaptation pulsed, muting the pain.

Health went to work, flooding from the pool in his soul space to douse the site of the injury. Individual muscle fibres writhed like snakes, and his shoulder started to seal itself shut—thickened blood welling at the edges of the wound like water in an overfull cup.

Porkchop was already moving, lunging in with a bite. Kaius was ready for him.

They’d already choked off the bond from both ends, allowing nothing but vague emotional impressions through—neither of them were interested in cheating. Unfortunately for his brother, it wasn’t enough.

As soon as their spar had started, Kaius found the full extent of The Veteran’s Edge revealed to him. The secondary process in his mind had latched onto Porkchop like a bloodhound, analysing his every move to compare to his knowledge of his brother’s fighting style.

Within moments he could almost predict his brother’s every action—it wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

Kaius leapt back and slashed, carving through Porkchop’s snout and peeling back a lip to reveal jagged teeth.

“Uh oh,” he thought to himself, staring at the wound. Neither of them were supposed to be going for the head, but in his focus he’d reacted instinctively.

His brother howled, genuine anger flooding their narrowed bond as Porkchop raced in with renewed vigour.

Blanching at the sudden—admittedly well deserved—aggression, Kaius reacted as best he could.

He caught the next swipe on his blade, opening Porkchop’s wrist. The third crushed his guard, carving through his thigh from hip to knee—opening it like a sliced bun.

Porkchop skidded to a halt as he fell to one knee with a gasp, deep red gushing from a severed artery to pool on the stone.

“That’s for going for the nose, dick.”

He simply groaned back, holding his leg together to make the job easier for Lesser Regeneration. A burst of healing hit them both a moment later. Ianmus, standing on the sidelines next to the guildmaster.

Rieker had tasked him with holding healing skills at the ready—it was good skill training for the mage, and let him and Porkchop keep gutting each other for far longer than they would otherwise.

After a minute of lying in his own blood, Kaius got back to his feet and dove back in. Both of them had already levelled their healing skills a couple of times, but there was still plenty of time for more.

…

Sitting cross legged on the floor of the hall, Kaius grumbled as the cold stone leeched the heat from his legs. He cradled a glass bottle, one of several that Rieker had procured for him to use over the coming week. From the looks that Ianmus had given them, he knew that most of them were rare.

He sighed, uncorking the bottle with his teeth. It opened with a squeak. While his hand had mostly finished healing, it wasn’t fully complete.

When Rieker had said it would be slow, he wasn’t lying. After five days of being torn to shreds by his brother, and tearing him up in turn, his palm had only just finished regenerating.

His fingers, on the other hand, were still little more than wiggling stumps.

Sighing at the noxious blue-white fluid inside the vial, Kaius analysed it with his True Sight for what felt like the fifth time.

Frozen Blood Oil:

Uncommon - Tier I

Affinity: Ice

Turns out having ice in your veins is rather deadly.

A long-acting oil that spreads freezing ice through wounds, hampering the flesh and bursting soft tissues

Depths-brewed Weapon Oil

Creeping Hoarfrost II

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Was he really going to do this? Injure himself purely to grow his skills?

Yes, yes he was.

Kaius drew his knife.

The thick oil oozed from the neck of the potion bottle, beading on the rim like molasses. Wafting notes of the cold night of winter, and the slow burning heat of hypothermic exposure wrinkled his nose as a slow stream of toxin slid free.

As soon as it touched his knife, the viscosity changed, seeping to cover the full extent of the blade. It was oddly adhering, holding tight to the surface of the metal in a thin film without dripping or running.

Finishing his pour, Kaius capped the bottle and set it to the side. A quick flip readjusted his grip. Now holding the knife downwards, he held it over his thigh—staring at his own pale flesh.

“Just get it over with, you big baby!” Porkchop called through their bond with a snort, grunting as a crash of white light seared his chest when Ianmus unleashed a Sunbeam at him. Rieker had them pulling double duty, training Porkchop's Magic Resistance and Ianmus’s sorcery.

Kaius rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics and took a deep breath to steady himself.

Honestly, he didn’t know why he had this mental block. He’d suffered far worse injuries without even blinking, but there was just something about self-inflicted injuries that the mind rebelled against. Some instinct that held him back from plunging the knife down into his leg.

There was nothing for it.

He closed his eyes.

And plunged the knife down.

*Ding! You have been afflicted by Ice: Creeping Hoarfrost*

Cold steel pierced his flesh, diving deep into the muscle beneath. Pain flared, though it was a small thing. Easily suppressed by Rapid Adaptation.

In the back of his mind, he noted the surprising resistance his skin had put up to the blade. Razor sharp, and made of good steel, it had never had any issues of the sort before. It was a piddly thing, and not his second or even third choice of attack, but it had saved him in the past. Perhaps it was time to replace it—he could always hold on to it as a keepsake; after all, it had been a gift from Father.

Opening his eyes, he looked down to see the knife sunk to the hilt, a full two handspan and a half of blade deep. He left it there, feeling the numbing agony of the weapon oil attack his flesh.

Frost grew from the edge of his wound, bluing and brittle skin visible even through the hot red that ran in rivulets from the injury.

Counting out ten breaths, he sat there waiting. His resistance skill was slow to react to the novel affliction—it pulsed, rushing to the site of the injury, and tasted the flavour of the magic that was slowly creeping its way up his limb.

Health burned, healing the damage that the hoarfrost left in his tissues. With the dense power of the weapon oil, it mostly served to keep his agony fresh—rejuvenating tissues refrozen to the point of bursting in an endless cycle.

Gritting his teeth, Kaius yanked his knife free in a spray of blood. The wound sealed in seconds, leaving toxic oil trapped deep in his flesh.

Now he just had to wait for Rapid Adaptation to do its thing.

A ding sounded in his mind, the first of many levels.

…..

Kaius curled his fingers, staring at them in moderate wonder as he held them up to the light that streamed from the wardlights high above in the training hall’s ceiling. Finally, after weeks of wanting to crawl out of his skin at the sensation of his flesh undulating and stretching, his hand was healed. Waking up in the morning to a fresh set of fingers had been a delight—the last few days had been especially frustrating.

With mostly healed fingers, he’d been returning to base instincts—trying to use the limb for daily tasks, only to suddenly fail when the missing tips of his digits would suddenly make themselves known.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—the full regeneration of his hand meant that he could no longer put off working on reinscribing his Drakthar glyph. He could have started a few days ago, but he had kept finding excuses to put it off.

More resistances to get, and more sparing to do with Porkchop. Now though, the weapon oils were exhausted—for now, Rieker said he would work on sourcing more while they were off on their next mission—and he had nothing holding him back.

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Clenching his fist, Kaius felt the tension and pressure shoot through his palm and up his arm, mirroring the heavy demon that sat on his chest. Vesryn glyphs were…intensely complicated.

His original glyph of his father’s design was a child’s drawing in comparison, and he’d mangled himself trying to inscribe that.

Sure, his mental stats and level were far higher than they were back then, and he now had dedicated skills that would help—let alone his new Aspect—but it didn’t make it any less intimidating.

He’d already walked with Ianmus and Porkchop to the guild. While it would have been more comfortable at the Stables, it was too risky to his brother’s cover to let Porkchop arrive without his bonded partner. That, and in the likely event he cocked something up, it would be nice to have a healer immediately on hand.

A brief look confirmed that Ianmus and Porkchop were deep in their own training. Ianmus had spent the last week working on using his solar manipulation to affect his sorcery skills—his beam attack and physical buff. It looked to be grueling work, even now the man’s face was scrunched and sweat streamed off his brow.

A beam snapped out—scorching Porkchop who watched his fur and flesh burn with stoic interest. Unlike his original attacks, it hung in the air, continuing to scour flesh and blacken bone.

It was fascinating to watch—the flexibility that a traditional mage had on changing even rigid System-granted sorcery to suit their needs. So unlike his own glyph-binding. It was also a distraction, he realised, shaking his head and turning his focus inwards.

As his eyes closed, the almost-circulatory structures of his mana conduits came into the view of his mind's eye.

He focused on his hand, bringing up his long-since memorised image of his glyph.

Taking it slow would be his path to success—he knew the theory, he knew the glyph, he just had to put it into practice. Easier said than done, unfortunately.

He infused his mana-pool with a thread of his soul, and started to draw out a thin stream of mana that he pushed to his limb. To Kaius’s surprise, it was far easier than he had anticipated.

Not simply due to his increased Willpower, nor his drastically improved skills, but because of the ease he had in holding everything clear in his mind. By far the hardest part of inscribing his spells and glyphs had always been the strain of splitting his attention. The glyph itself, his infused mana, and the structure of the weave all had demands on his focus.

With his Aspect, and the Glass Mind that came with it, everything became far easier.

Unfortunately it made the glyph itself no less complex. His teeth clenched, grinding against his trepidation.

With nothing else for it, he decided to dive in.

Grasping a hold of his mana he weaved a complex knot. Each finger width dove and wound through his flesh, binding themselves recursively to the natural mana pathways that threaded his body.

It was slow going, barely a finger-width a minute. Thankfully, holding the structure stable was—well, not easy, but manageable.

Still, progress was made, and the closest he ever came to failure was the occasional ding of a skill level shaking him from his focused fugue.

Now more than ever he realised that the person who had originally designed this glyphic language was a genius. Against all his expectations, the structure was remarkably unreactive—even unfinished, it wanted to bind to his flesh, and each of his momentary slip-ups lead to little more than a waver in the tight whorls and loops of mana.

That said, his head still throbbed, and his clothes were still soaked with sweat.

After what felt like an hour he finished the first array, feeling it snap in place. Mana pulsed, flaring its connection to his soul and settled in—binding itself in place. Kaius’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise at the unexpected development.

He hoped it meant he could take a break—it was the first of nine that he had identified, and it had taken him the better part of an hour to complete.

Slowly, trepidatiously, he withdrew his grip on the mana.

A cooling rush of relief flooded him as the orphaned array stayed in place.

It was stable.