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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (125/?) Revised Version 1
🕑 Added 2025-04-19 22:29:08 +0000 UTCAuthor’s Note: Hey everyone! There’s been quite a few revisions and additions in this one so I do suggest you guys give this another read! :D I basically added a bit more pieces here and there in Sorecar’s section to better improve the flow and to enhance the meaning behind what I intended from a few of his passages, as well as rephrasing or replacing entire sentences from him too! :D This was my first foray into a full-on Sorecar POV and I’m still trying to get a feel for his POV vibes so I really do hope it’s alright now! :D I’ve also added a bit to Emma’s challenge with Ping, including the addition of the red scarf shenanigans, as well as a few more sections that hopefully improve the intensity and impact of the fight! That’s about it this time around! As always, all of the revised sections are highlighted with an underline to easily see what’s been revised! :D
Author’s Note 2: I’ve also attached the PDF and EPUB versions of this chapter, since Patreon is still working on a solution for the recent formatting bug! :D
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Armorer’s Workshop. Local Time: 1955 Hours.
Sorecar
In the theatre that is life, mages take center stage. They are the protagonists, antagonists, supporting cast, and orchestra combined.
But for every actor, there exists a set designer. A writer, painter, sculptor, and artist who must toil and work towards the same ends, but through vastly different means, utilizing entirely divergent mentalities.
Because while a mage performs, an artificer creates. Forging the tools by which civilization stands, setting the stage for the mage’s performance.
This distinction, whilst nominally irrelevant in one’s day-to-day, becomes oh-so important when confronted with instances such as these — when reality itself seems poised to undermine eternity’s worth of progress.
For the artificer in me wept, partially out of frustration — but primarily out of burning curiosity — upon being confronted by the earthrealmer’s manaless conveyance.
An… artifice by any other name, save for the discordantly vital operative word…
Manaless.
It was a manaless artifice.
A… construct, as per Emma Booker’s words.
Or at least, that’s how she phrases it in High Nexian.
Animated Manaless Construct, Non-Magical Moving Article, Magic-less Powered Conveyance… my manaless, armored friend had a whole litany of flowery descriptors with which to describe this anomalous thing, each one more puzzling than the next.
But none as puzzling as the projection that stood before me.
And while a mage may simply disregard the ‘manaless’ descriptor as nothing more than an exercise in hyperbole, choosing to simply accept this construct as it was… an artificer simply couldn’t walk away from such a bold and outrageous claim.
For it was the equivalent of approaching a master healer, casually presenting them with a living, breathing, manaless being and expecting them to simply accept it after some casual banter.
Which was to say, it was akin to the presentation of the impossible, as it stood in defiance of all conventional wisdom.
It doesn’t take a seasoned wainwright to understand the fundamental principles of construct animatics — the complex interplay of moving parts and their associated forces which were required when considering the physical movement of a construct within the confines of the corporeal world.
Any artificer can tell you that in the process of creating a simple horseless buggy from scratch, one could write for a cleric a litany of issues. Ranging from the limitations of a given material, the convergent and divergent forces at play when an object is in motion, and the various systems that need to work seamlessly in order for a wheeled conveyance to stay in motion.
These limitations, imposed by the natural world, did have their manaless solutions.
However, those solutions were rudimentary, limiting, and most crucial of all — basic.
This was why artificing as a field came into existence.
A coalescence between the works of early enchanters and would-be tinkerers — the discipline of artificing was founded to overcome these obstacles.
Our forefathers studied our limitations, embraced the physical world in all of its tedium in order to forge solutions in the hearth of enchanted fires.
This was the reason why Emma Booker’s construct was as bold as a claim as it was impossible.
It was a far different beast than her armor or even her exceptional weapon.
For those were simple constructs; easy enough for a manaless forger to create. With the sole caveat of time and experience being exchanged for the final product.
No, what my manaless friend was presenting today wasn’t another suit of armor, enchanted parchment, or even the taming of an admittedly anomalous insect familiar. Instead, she was proposing the existence of an animated construct. One built to withstand the rigors of the outside world, capable of autonomous movement using entirely unenchanted, unattuned, non-magical parts.
This was a discordant claim I simply could not wrap my nonexistent head around.
…
And I oh so loved every second of it.
I felt closer to my artificing forefathers than I ever knew was possible.
The rush of the unknown, the thrill of being faced with an unassailable cliff face, and a burning desire to cast this darkness into the light.
This… was a challenge.
And Sorecar Latil Almont Pliska never backed down from challenges.
Though by that same logic, Sorecar Latil Almont Pliska needed to balance his professional enthusiasm for the practical considerations of the present.
For despite the unquenchable thirst for knowledge and discovery, there existed a barrier even I wouldn’t cross.
That barrier, being the safety and wellbeing of the first genuine acquaintance I’ve had in…
…
How long have I been here?
…
Regardless, I had to play it safe.
I had to respect whatever boundaries she wished to maintain in the secrecy of her manaless constructs.
But thankfully… I had the instincts of millenia toying with expectant decorum to keep her claims safe and shrouded from prying eyes. Even if there were miasmic gaps in between centuries of monotonous drudgery.
“So let old Sorecar regain his bearings here—” I began, as I once more poked a single gloved appendage through this manaless projection. “—this conveyance not only lacks any mana-imbued, enchanted, or artificed components, but likewise doesn’t tap into the manastreams for any of its processes?”
“Yeah! That’s correct.” The earthrealmer replied jovially.
“And yet you’re still capable of generating physical motion, animating this conveyance… without the assistance or power of mana?”
“That’s correct. Erm, I’m sorry for being so vague here, Sorecar. I think we both know that—”
“Bah!” I waved a hand to dismiss the unfinished thought. “There’s no need to apologize! Discretion is the best defense against malicious intent. I know, I know — this does sound bad when phrased in such extremes, but I do believe that it is better to exaggerate than to suffer the consequences of understated mildness.” I tried my best to reinforce and reassure the earthrealmer, though I was just as much attempting to convince my twitching curiosity from diving any further than was safe.
A twitching which manifested physically, rattling my plates and flapping my visor as the conveyance’s fundamentals proved beyond perplexing.
“An animated conveyance. Capable of motion without mana.” I posited, moreso to myself than to the earthrealmer who merely nodded once more in affirmation. “And I assume there is no manaless biological trickery afoot?”
The earthrealmer cocked her head at that. “No, Sorecar, I can assure you we aren’t one for manaless biological or druidic methodologies.”
I nodded, my focus remaining on the projection before me.
There needed to be an answer. A soulless, nonliving object couldn’t simply up and move without an injection of power. Be that of flesh, of magic, or… something in-between.
My hands fiddled aimlessly at this manaless projection, my mind wandering as to the function of this earthrealmer toy.
Then suddenly, It clicked — as did the clasps at the base of my helmet head — as I once more found myself bending my form at the knees, placing both armored elbows on the table’s surface to stare wildly at the manaless apparition in front of me.
I grinned.
Or at least, that’s what my soul wished it could do.
“If I may be so bold, might I posit a theory as to the source behind your bi-treader’s motion?” I offered through a sly and tinny manipulation of the stagnant air within my chest cavity.
The earthrealmer, clearly noticing my intent, crossed her arms in dramatic fashion, eliciting a giddiness deep inside me as I recognized that motion as an attempt to overcome the limitations only kindred spirits trapped in armor would understand.
“Yes, Sorecar.”
“Its motion — does it stem from the same enigmatic source that animates your projector?” I replied the instant the earthrealmer responded.
I tapped my feet in anticipation.
“Indeed it does, Sorecar.”
Then, I exploded into an all-out jolly jig.
“I knew it.” I bellowed out, letting through a series of boisterous hearty laughs.
Oh how I wanted to tear that artifice open, to gawk at what made it tick.
But this realization alone was enough to partially satisfy my growing hunger.
For it broke the Nexian stranglehold on the keys to a truly civilized polity.
It offered… an alternative.
Another method in which to put society in motion, solving the five obstacles of the fledgling civilization.
“Erm, Sorecar, are you alright?” I finally registered the earthrealmer’s voice through the auricular enchantments imbued along my form, her voice registering in the annals of my transient mind.
“Heh? Oh, yes yes! I am just… this is… oh, your kind are a truly remarkable people, Cadet Emma Booker!” I beamed. “Why, this practically reframes my eternal toil as a long wait for something exciting, rather than an arduous march into futility!” I managed out in a surprising turn of earnesty that even I hadn’t expected from myself.
Still… my subconscious was right.
This truly was worth the sacrifice of time and sanity.
“Right then! Erm, oh!” I finally steadied my train of thought, forcing myself back into the role of the tepid conversationalist.
Though by doing so, I found myself incapable of forming words.
There were just… too many topics to broach, too many questions to ask, with most of them being off limits for obvious reasons…
Though, there was one that successfully crept up to the surface above all others.
A question that was vague enough to be overlooked by those who may decide to meddle, but whose answer would be reality-defying to those who knew what its implications held.
“If I may ask, Emma Booker, exactly — or rather, roughly — how many individual components exist within this conveyance?”
This question… seemed to give the earthrealmer some pause, as each second of contemplation felt longer than entire weeks’ worth of mindless toil within the manufactorium.
“I’ll refrain from going into specifics, but it’s somewhere in the hundreds, Sorecar.” The earthrealmer finally responded.
…
“Why’d you ask—”
“Because this serves to provide invaluable context in the approach and limitations of our two parallel paths, Emma Booker.” I responded immediately, leaving little to no time to waste.
“It is a general rule of thumb in artificing that the more advanced an artificed conveyance is, the fewer individual components are necessary for its function. With the role of each piece taking on greater tasks within the function of a conveyance. However, given that your — ahem — hypothetical conveyance doesn’t utilize any enchantments or artificing… this leaves you little room to stack, as it is colloquially known within our circles. As each component of your conveyance will be required to operate solely upon its physical properties, reliant on its inherent form in relation to the forms of its constituent components — cycling and conveying the animated motions of energy from one component to the next… like an infinitely complex dynamic puzzle.”
My mind traveled leagues in mere seconds, memories from long lost eras harkening back to classrooms and lecture halls in which the basic components of unenchanted artifices were referenced for their limitations.
“It would take an unenchanted tinkerer over a hundred components to do what a trained artificer could do with only a handful of magical integrants. The complications of the physical are simply outweighed by the practicality and utility of the enchanted. Only in a world devoid of mana would one be forced to consider pursuing the former, given no other options exist in the pursuit of advanced conveyances. However, given the principles by which life arises, such a notion would be best suited for flights of fanciful fantasy.” I uttered out verbatim, as a long-lost memory rose to the surface amidst a sea of dull and repetitive recollections.
My modest musings of my memories aside, I could notice from the silence and unmoving stature of the earthrealmer that she was undoubtedly giving me a quizzical look.
“That… is what was taught to me, millenia ago by my professors.” I quickly added, providing some context to what was in effect a sudden and abrupt interlude in our otherwise rapid-paced back and forths.
“I mean… that only makes sense, Sorecar.” The earthrealmer acknowledged. “Civilization tends to find solutions to their immediate problems. Transportation being one of them, right? It just so happens that with our lack of mana, that we were forced to really think outside the box to innovate. Otherwise… we’d be stuck.”
I nodded slowly, the ramifications of these revelations still reverberating through my transient mind.
“Artificing provides a means of… circumventing the complexities and inherent weaknesses that come from manaless tinkering. It provides for a robustness that—”
“Probably can’t be matched by early tinkering.” Emma Booker completed my thoughts for me. “We experienced that when we first started. That’s just how things were for a while, until incremental improvements finally made things reliable and robust, and with successive innovations, we were even able to stack. To a certain extent, of course.”
I continued nodding, my visor flapping every which way as I did.
“Remarkable.” Was all I was able to say by the end of it.
“Remarkable… for a fantastical story, mind you.” I added promptly, and with a cheeky metallic bending of my visor’s ocularia.
Yet throughout it all, my vision — my true vision — remained entirely focused on the projection in front of me.
This… two-wheeled conveyance that taunted me with the impossibilities of an alternative world.
It then hit me.
“Just a moment.” I sprung up, every armored piece of my physical form clattering against one another as I did so, as I lacked both the mental capacity and willpower to control the motions of every individual piece. “You said you’d be working on this, didn’t you?” I managed out abruptly, shaking my index finger furiously at the projection.
“Yes.” The earthrealmer nodded.
“This. An entire conveyance. To fit your form. In time for the Quest for the Everblooming Blossom.” I spoke in rapid succession. “With as many individual components as you’ve mentioned—”
“Yup!” She once again interjected, leaving my visor to slowly droop down below where my eyes should have been, my subconscious doing so as the sole means of mimicking an opened slack-jawed look of shock.
This shock, however, took on a different life as yet another thought arose.
A giddiness once again took over as I brought two thumbs pointed at my chest.
“AH! AHA! And that’s why you’re here, aren’t you? To request the aid of the storied and talented Sorecar Latil Almont Pliska!”
“Well, yes—”
My soul runes pulsed as I leaned forward, awaiting the coveted news.
“—but only for the bodywork I’m afraid.”
…
My helmet slumped, as did my back, my two hands bracing myself against the table in sheer disappointment; a dark aura erupted around me as a result.
“Ah.” I responded. “Very well.” I promptly added, attempting to mask my disappointment with a steady nod.
“I’m sorry, Sorecar. I know you would’ve done an amazing job at this, but I have my own protocols to consider when it comes to—”
“Discretion is the best defense against malicious intent.” I reiterated. “You’re simply doing as you must, Emma Booker. Do not be discouraged by my… personal disappointment.”
…
…
…
“Emma Booker…” I began, as that dour melancholy soon evolved into genuine curiosity. “If not me, then who? Who have you commissioned for this most delicate and urgent of projects?”
“Me, myself, and I.” The earthrealmer responded slyly.
To which I had but one response to.
“Excuse me?”
My mind raced as the tandem beating of hammers on anvils pulsed intermittently in my mind.
“You… are more than welcome to use my workshop if need be then, in that case—”
“Oh, no. I meant I’ll be producing it in-house, at my own setup.” She once more interjected…
This brought up even more questions than answers, as I felt myself requiring a chair for the first time in millennia.
“To clarify, Sorecar, I won’t be doing any of it by hand. I have… a construct that my people have built with the express purpose of crafting these delicate components one after another. It’s all automated, is what I’m trying to say.”
“I see.” I acknowledged, simultaneously summoning a chair from the ether as I did so. “Another manaless artifice, built in order to craft the components of other manaless artifices… Am I correct to assume you have yet another artifice with which to assemble these components?”
“Yeah! How’d you—”
“I think I will need a moment to ponder the implications of all of this.” I managed out through a rumbling motion of stale air.
A moment passed.
At which point, I moved back to the pertinent task at hand, my excitement more than enough to overcome the shock of disbelief.
“Thank you for waiting; my soul runes are properly intact. Now how’s about you give old Sorecar the necessary details about this commission, eh?”
=====
Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 19, Residence 20, Peer Group Leader’s Inner Sanctum. Local Time: 2200 Hours.
Auris Ping
Kneel.
Bow.
Head against the suede cushion.
“I will bring light to dark.”
Repeat.
Kneel.
Bow.
Head against the suede cushion.
“I will bring light to dark.”
Repeat.
Kneel.
Bow.
Head against the suede cushion.
“I will bring the newrealmer to heel.”
I breathed deeply, my eyes opening to witness the first and most important object to grace this room.
The helical rings of His Eternal Truths.
Made of attuned gold, refined with Nexian flame, within the hallowed halls of the Mages of the Ministry — this was my connection to the divine.
I breathed slowly, steadying both heart, mind, and body, as I slowly exited my sanctum and returned to the currently empty room Ladona and I shared.
Her scented perfume complemented the burning of incense, imbuing within me a feeling of repose in a world that had been tainted by the arrival of this… intruder.
With an adjustment of my cloak, I left my room to find the others gathered around the tea table.
There, I couldn’t help but to overhear the rumblings of dissent perched amidst stray conversations.
“Why are we taking on such an unnecessary risk? Surrogate championship for a nameless peer group is simply not worth it when you consider the opponents involved!” The antlered noble countered loudly.
“Are you doubting Lord Ping’s leadership, Lord Vicini Lorsi?” The distinguished Lady Ladona countered.
“I am merely stating that it is unnecessary.”
“So is maintaining the established order also ‘unnecessary’, Lord Lorsi?” I questioned, entering the fray with firm footfalls.
“L-lord Ping! I was merely—”
“Answer the question, Lord Lorsi.”
The man’s pupils constricted in fear, fear at what he knew was right, like a child being confronted with his own fallacies.
“No it is not, Lord Ping.” He relented, lowering his brown-furred head in submission.
“Good. I am pleased we see eye to eye.” I smiled in response, moving over to place a single hand atop of his head, squeezing and kneading his scalp in the process.
From there, I moved towards my strategist’s board; a large and mobile corkboard that had now been filled to the brim with illustrations, names, and the portraits of familiar faces.
All of which were tied and bound together in strings of glowing twine.
The most notable amidst the portraits, placed next to the insufferable Qiv, was the discordant newrealmer.
Her featureless helm staring forward, taunting me even now with its insufferable emotionless stare.
“There is a natural order to this world.” I began, as I trailed my fingers up and around the board, flicking each string to the tune of a lute. “And those who try to upend it do not fare well.” I continued, placing a palm against the newrealmer’s portrait.
“Tomorrow… I reset the board. Tomorrow, I will make things right.”
“Tomorrow, we come out on top, Lord Ping.” Lady Ladona quickly added, giving me a firm nod of support.
=====
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 1200 Hours.
Emma
The end of PE had arrived, which meant the challenge was soon to be issued.
Chiska had made sure to emphasize how staying for the challenge was voluntary, and how only one extra peer group needed to remain behind to act as witness.
However, much of the student body had elected to stay behind.
On one hand, this was probably because of the high-profile nature of the matchup.
On the other hand though, the fact that this PE class had been a health lecture in disguise meant nobody was tired enough to leave, at least not right away.
“Lords and Ladies! As all of you know, a challenge has been issued within the hallowed halls of learning! And as the resident Physical Education Professor, it is my honor to not only act as arbitrator, but deliberator for said challenge.” Chiska began, making her way back onto the field in the middle of the stadium.
“The only requirement Professor Belnor requested is that the challenge must be a quick one. So no marathons—” The professor turned in my direction, before shifting towards Ping. “—and no gauntlets!”
“And considering your rather novice dueling potential, it is my decision to instead opt for a simple challenge.” The feline spoke with a sly grin, before gesturing to the rapidly changing field, one that was quickly filled in with sand, leading all the way up to the track that bordered the edge of the stadium. “Lord Auris Ping, Cadet Emma Booker, you are both invited to partake in the Crimson Waltz.”
Murmurs erupted as Chiska elected to perform a demonstration using two familiar bears, with one standing still and the other gearing up to charge it.
“The challenge is simple. One party acts as the attacker, and one the defender. The attacker must incapacitate the defender, leading to either their surrender, or their physical inability to continue resisting. The defender must either tire out the attacker leading to their voluntary surrender, or must counter said attacks by means of martial or magical arts, leading to their inability to continue further attacks. No sustained fighting is allowed, for the Crimson Waltz only allows for an opening strike to carry its own weight.”
The two bears demonstrated the two scenarios in kind, with the attacker shown as winning once the defending party was knocked out after being slammed by a ramming charge, and the defender shown as winning following some kung-fu-like grapples of the attacking bear leading to a wrestling take-down.
A taste of dramatic irony crept up on me, but it wasn’t clear yet if it would come to fruition.
I’d soon find out however as we made our way to the professor, and were both faced with a mystery cup.
“Your roles are sealed within this cup. Cadet Booker, you may pick first.”
I nodded, reaching and pulling out a piece of paper.
Ping soon did the same, as we both unfolded our tickets at the same time.
We both grinned at our respective results.
Though probably for vastly different reasons.
“Lord Ping has pulled out the attacker role! And Cadet Emma Booker, the defender!”
This was literally some sort of cosmic joke.
And I was here for it.
What’s more… I had the perfect tools for the job.
“I can’t believe this is happening…” I muttered out under a muted breath, as I grabbed hold of the red scarf that constituted my ‘PE uniform’.
“To not waste time, will both parties please move to your designated places!” Chiska urged, prompting me to move to the middle of the field, whilst Ping trotted over to the very edge of it.
He elicited a series of uproarious cheers as he did so, raising both arms up high above his head, garnering loud and louder screams of support.
“SEND HER TO FIRST DEATH, LORD PING!”
“YES, YES! DO IT!”
I spotted Etholin practically hiding behind the crowd at this point, with Teleos giving me a disappointed shake of his head.
Meanwhile, Ilunor had moved to the back of the bleachers, pulling out a sack and a familiar tally board from the previous week.
“Does anyone care for another friendly wager?” The EVI could just about make out his words. “Win back your losses! Double it or nothing!” He egged the gathered crowd on.
But whilst Thalmin watched on, giving me a solid thumbs up, it was only Thacea who looked on at me with significant worry.
“Be careful.” She said, right before Chiska cleared her throat, causing all eyes to land on her.
“Round one. Are both parties ready?”
“Yes, professor!” We both shouted, as I quickly turned towards the EVI.
“EVI?”
“Rapid-Reflex Assist Mode Active. Enhanced Strength Systems… Armed. Adaptive Power Parity Mode Active.”
“Good picks.” I grinned as I stood there ominously, unwaveringly staring down the raging bull. “Operator grants the Electronic Virtual Intelligence full motor control and overriding administrator privileges over the course of this engagement. Take over if you need to, but I’ll see how far I can handle him first. Addendum: make sure not to make any moves that can kill him.”
“Acknowledged. Priority Directive: Defend Operator. Primary Objective: Incapacitate OPFOR. Engagement Protocols: Mitigate risk to injury and death of OPFOR.”
“On my mark.” Chiska quickly sounded, prompting me to ready my scarf, holding it by both edges much to Ping’s confusion.
This confusion wasn’t limited to Ping though, as murmurs from the crowd was picked up by the EVI.
“What’s she doing?”
“Is she coaxing him?”
“Some sort of mind game, no doubt! You must resist her ploys, Lord Ping!”
“Ready…” Chiska continued, seemingly unbothered by the stream of accusations. “Steady…” I breathed in deeply, fluttering the red cloth, loosening my shoulders, and embracing the strangeness that came with the complex interplay between both body and armor. “Go!”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 180% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
I saw a flash.
Then, a mad dash that belonged in the Venutian Grand Prix.
As the bull simply rushed me at speeds way beyond what he was capable of during the gauntlet.
He reared his right arm—
[Collision Warning!]
—poised it for my face—
[Operator—]
—before missing just a second before impact, as I reacted just in the nick of time.
The man nearly tumbled following that, stumbling forward before righting himself at the other edge of the field.
Meanwhile, I found myself very nearly tumbling rightwards, a rush of adrenaline bathing my world in a twitchy breathlessness.
“Round one complete! Let’s reset for Round two!” Chiska announced, as the whole song and dance started anew.
“EVI, QAAR.”
[Generating Quick After Action Report…]
In the time it took for Ping to walk back to the startling line, the EVI had managed to run through a report on what was effectively our first real matchup against a mage.
Whilst the confrontation with Mal’tory was definitely worth an entire report unto itself, this isolated exercise with Ping was a far more discrete case study for vital analytics.
Slow motion footage revealed a startling capacity for course correction and environmental awareness ‘mid-flight’.
Whilst the raw numbers crunched from the force of impact based on the speed, velocity, and sheer mass of Ping’s bullish form would’ve made even the most fearless of matadors wince in dread.
“Manual evasive maneuvers by operator resulted in a 55 millimeter clearance margin. Accounting for nominal human margin of error, the likelihood of impact—”
“Yeah, that… that was way too close for comfort.” I admitted. “Right, okay, just stay sharp, EVI.”
“Acknowledged.”
I found myself staring Ping down as he arrived back at the starting line, the man choosing to rear his foot back, kicking sand behind him as he did so.
This prompted me to respond in kind, pulling out the red scarf once more to egg the bull on.
A series of chuckles erupted from the stands because of that, prompting the bull to silence them with a stern glare, before turning towards me with a drawn-out snort of hot air.
“Ready!” Chiska began.
“Steady!” She continued, eliciting a sharp breathy exhale from Ping.
“GO!”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
I didn’t even see a flash this time around.
[Collision Warning!]
[Evasive maneuvers!]
Instead, I felt my whole body lurching right, avoiding the bull as the whooshing of wind and a small gust of sand sped right by me.
This resulted in Ping taking half of the track to come to a complete halt, though this did little to undermine Chiska’s enthusiasm.
“Let’s reset for round three!”
The man nodded, raising his arm as if to ask for a reprieve.
“Do you yield, Lord Ping?”
“N-no, Professor, I just need a moment to—”
“There are no rests in the Crimson Waltz! The process of resetting is as much a part of the challenge as the act of attacking and defending itself!” The professor explained through a chipper voice.
At which point I understood it.
The challenge, which at first seemed to heavily favor the attacker… was just as fair to the defender.
All a defender needed to do was to dodge, wearing down the attacker given how there was no chance of respite from the moment the attack began to the moment the next attack was reset.
Ping finally seemed to get this as well, as he seemed even more pissed off than before… if that was even possible.
“Ready!” Chiska started yet again.
“Steady!” The man breathed out wildly, priming both arms.
“GO!”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
I couldn’t see anything.
Not Ping, not a fist, nothing.
It all happened so quickly that I just felt winded by the suit’s sharp and jerky movements.
“Reset for round four!” Chiska shouted.
This forced me to look over at the QAAR for answers, and what I found was nothing short of unnerving.
“Cadet Booker. If this persists, the armor may not be able to effectively evade the next attack.”
“Ready!”
“Right, ready up non-lethal CQC presets. You got admin privileges, feel free to use it.”
“Steady!”
“Acknowledged.”
“Just remember the engagement pro—”
“GO!”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
I felt my arms move against my will.
Then, a significant force of pressure was applied all around me, as haptic feedback brought with it the feeling of both the force of impact and the weight the suit had just carried.
My eyes widened, as I saw Ping’s face suddenly appearing inches in front of me in what felt like an instant. Then, just as abruptly, I saw the world rotating, before being flipped entirely on its head.
I’d just grappled and flipped Ping over my shoulder.
“LET GO OF ME, PEASANT!”
I acquiesced, letting the squirming man go following a return of motor function.
I felt my bearings slip in that moment, but only momentarily.
“Reset for round five!”
As we were once again brought to the next round of this Waltz.
And I braced yet again for what was to come.
“Ready!”
“Steady!”
“GO!”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 550% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
I blinked.
THUD!
And it was all over.
I found myself flipped over, now with a writhing Ping once again in my arms.
“Lord Ping… Do you wish to yield?”
“NO!” Ping yelled back, getting back to his feet as he began limping back towards his starting position.
This song and dance… just wouldn’t end.
But as I would soon notice, it was clear Ping was starting to reach his limit.
As each—
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 550% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—and every other round—
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 520% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—was met by the same ‘level’ of mana radiation.
When taken alongside the stats offered by the QAAR, it was clear he’d reached the extent of his capabilities. His speed, maneuverability, and force seemed to be at their limits.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 530% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
The man just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Round nine!”
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stop and give it his all. Because this time…
“GO!”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
CRRKKKK!
I felt and heard something breaking, just as Ping and I were sent down to the dirt in a loud THUD.
My heart stopped as my eyes focused on the armor’s active status readout.
[NON-VITAL DAMAGE DETECTED. SUIT INTEGRITY NOMINAL.]
[DAMAGE DETECTED ON RIGHT EXO-DEX, FIFTH DIGIT.]
I brought up my right ‘hand’, seeing its ‘pinky’ equivalent still intact, but simply bent backwards beyond its intended range of motion.
I gulped, wincing at the damage done to my surrogate hand, my gut twisting at the sight of it as I relied solely on my training now to disassociate the connection my brain was trying to make between its surrogate hands and the real ones just above it.
However, it was Ping who probably got the worse end of the deal here, as he lay next to me in a crumpled heap, moaning and groaning in the process.
Eventually, we both got up, each dazed in our own ways.
However, instead of the expected RESET I’d gotten used to, we instead both heard an ear-splitting whistle, followed closely by the raising of a white card in Chiska’s hand.
Comments
Michael Halpern
Patreon glitch read the pdf
Swaren
I wasn't able to see any underlining coming through on the patreon app at least. Is that part of patreons formatting incompetence? I haven't seen that issue in other revised chapters before
trebor
I have two interesting tid bits concerning this beautiful chapter the first being something I found out while I looked up how to write Matador is that there's a specific female name for this profession it’s Matadora and the second is that there's actually a strategy to being a Matador that Emma could have used here behind the red cloth of a Matador they're with their hip standing really far to one side because the bull goes for center mass making dodging a lot easier.
