Malcolm Tent
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Wish upon the Stars chapter 938
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 16:27:17 +0000 UTCAs I suspected, Crell had zero leads on how to find an A-rank blacksmith here. Even a particularly talented B-rank seemed out of the question at the moment, sadly. So I just headed to bed after the exciting evening, albeit with the caveat of having spent several hours working on plans for Bethy’s shoe palace, which she redesigned at least six times and was STILL adding things to when I went to sleep.
Still, I slept like a baby, despite my excitement, and rose to greet the day with gusto (after stocking up on scrolls). I leapt out of bed, full of moxie and gusto and whatever other words old people use to describe being super pumped, and then…nothing.
“Shane, what the fuck are you doing?” My grumpy wife asked me, her voice muffled by the pillow her head was stuck under. Only one of her blue black eyes was visible, and it was narrowed in annoyance. “It’s…” she flicked a hand, checking her scan ring. “It’s four in the morning. Why are you awake? Why am I awake? Why does four in the morning even EXIST? Do we really need two of these?”
I coughed in embarrassment. “Um…sorry hon. I was just excited. My fight is today. But much later today. I guess I slept pretty lightly. Go back to bed. I’ll go…work out or something.”
My hands were near shaking with pent up energy. I felt…charged. Maybe because for the first time since getting here, I felt like I was taking my destiny into my own two hands. All the faction stuff was great, but there was something about punching your will into reality fist over fist that just made it more visceral.
She stared at me for a moment then snorted, blowing hair from her face as she sat up. “It’s so weird how you can have this much experience with our crazy lives and still be so dumb and sweet,” despite the harsh words, her smile was soft and affectionate. “I hope you never lose this part of you. The stupid punchy moron who followed me into an underground fight club on our first date complaining about how scary my bike was.”
“Ok, first of all, our first date was me cooking you dinner,” I told her firmly. “And second of all I did NOT say your bike was scary. I said your DRIVING was scary. And I stand by that.”
She hummed with indecision. “Hmmm, nope. Sorry babe. That was our first date. I didn’t know it yet myself, but I’d already been won over by what a big dumb puppy you were. You were so cute when we first met, all star struck and flustered. And don’t try to claim you weren’t need I remind you of your collection of Nightstrike novelty mugs?”
“See, this makes me not want to tell you things,” I said accusingly, pointing at her archly. “You’re never going to let me forget the mugs.”
Leaning over on her palm, she watched me happily. “Not even for a second. Love you.”
“I love you too,” I laughed as I turned to throw on some clothes. Not my armor, just a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. It felt weird dressing in cloth. “Now you coming downstairs while I cook breakfast? Seems like you’ve officially crossed the event horizon for going back to bed. I know you well enough to know that once you can form coherent words you’re up for good.”
She snorted. “Your fault, monster. You will carry me downstairs and make me crepes. With mixed berries.” She waved her hand grandly as she announced my punishment, and it was hard not to laugh at how cute she was when she was being bossy. I managed though, I didn’t want to ruin her bit.
“As my lady wishes,” I said in an exaggerated baritone. “You chariot awai-” I was cut off by an angry pounding on the wall.
“If you two assholes don’t go back to sleep or go downstairs I will fucking STAB you!” Bellowed Benny from the next room over. “It’s FOUR in the morning Shane!” I winced, and Callie covered her mouth to stifle a giggle as I swept over and picked her up.
She was wearing a set of big fluffy pajamas covered in… I frowned at them. “Are those phoenixes? Wait, are those ARCHIE? Where did you even get those?” I triggered Murmur before speaking, just to cover the sound as I carried her out of the room, but I still ended up keeping my voice low out of habit.
Blushing, she cleared her throat. “I had Bethy make them. I thought it would be cute. Since Archie is your companion or whatever.” She gestured to her back. “Plus I needed a custom pair to let the wings out. These things are gorgeous, but they are a PAIN to sleep with.”
I let her feel through the bond how adorable I thought that was, but I didn’t say it. One of the benefits of the bond is that we can be honest deep down without having to say embarrassing stuff out loud. We reached the kitchen and I dropped her on a stool as I fired up the stove, then started pulling ingredients from my ring for crepes.
“So, I was thinking we could spar after breakfast,” I told her as I mixed the batter. “Nothing insane, obviously, just some light working out to keep me sharp, then maybe have Jessie juice me up to clear out any soreness or exhaustion. Want to be in top form for my fight.”
She smirked at me. “You sure? We haven’t really sparred since I got my trait. You might not be able to handle me.”
“Are you sure you’re all the way awake?” I asked her with concern. “Because clearly you’re dreaming. You’re pretty tough now, but those flames work best on Void creatures and infiltrators, and I’m neither.” She arched a brow at me in challenge, and I grinned back. “Oh that’s it, better eat fast because we have a date with the sparring ring. I’m going to make you eat your words. Which to be fair shouldn’t be hard, since you consume anything I put near your mouth in the morning.” She just flipped me off, rolling her eyes as she tried to quell a smile.
I left her to go get ready to fight while I cleaned up the food, and then headed out to the training yard in the center of the boarding house, a spatially expanded courtyard built into the center. When I arrived though, I realized that we weren’t alone. Callie had made a pit stop to pick up one of my B-rankers. At my pulse of confusion, she shrugged. “I was thinking about it, and I feel like you can do better to prepare than working with me. We’ve trained together a lot, and I’m strong, but I’m no duellist.”
That was ironic, considering the origin of our bond, but she wasn’t wrong. “You sure you’re free to train with us little people, Alanna?” I asked the sword mistress. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”
I didn’t know Alanna very well, honestly. She and Crell were semi-close, and she’d been one of Skartaris’s ministers in the dungeon. She’d hit B-rank immediately after leaving, and was one of the few B-rankers I had that had achieved a Mythical skill, and a weapon skill no less.
She was surprisingly chill for such a powerful and intense person. She shrugged. “You’re the boss. I haven’t been doing too much since we got here. Crell has his sneaky games and they’re useful right now, but my skillset is more hack and slash than wine and dine. If I can help, I’m happy to play trainer for the day.”
Nodding, I summoned my staff. “Alright, well, if you both think this is a good training method, I’m in. The two most likely candidates for my battle are sword users. Impart to me your wisdom, oh maker of glorious battle.”
Snorting, Alanna drew her sword. It was…jarring. Not because of the blade itself, but because the motion was so smooth, so practiced, that I literally didn’t parse that it was happening. It wasn’t a speed thing, more that her body flowed through the action so seamlessly that I couldn’t pick out where each individual movement started.
“So, sword duels are both more and less complex than most people think,” she said as she started to pace a circle around me. My hands tightened on my staff, preparing to react. “There are an infinite number of styles, variations, and techniques that can be performed with a blade. But they can all be broken down into two subcategories. Commanders and conductors.”
“Commanders,” she said conversationally as her arm blurred. “Control the space. The sword dominates, conquers all within its reach. Commanders pressure, they bully, they clash head on.” Her blade clashed against my staff in a dozen places, forcing me to adjust, and I stumbled back, trying to counter as best as I could.
Suddenly though, the pattern changed. Where she had previously been overwhelming me with a volley of strikes, once I started trying to counter, the sphere of control she’d established turned…softer. “Conductors,” she continued. “Make use of negative space. Deflection. The commander conquers, the conductor leads.
“In terms of philosophy, these two things may seem similar on the surface,” she cautioned as she switched between them seamlessly. Not just one style either, there was about a dozen different sword arts on display from what I could tell, maybe more, but they all fit into those two categories. “Commanders control their own advance, and conductors control yours.”
I scowled, trying to keep up. “This is very interesting,” I told her frustratedly. “But I don’t see how it helps me here. I can’t learn to apply this in the short time I have.”
“Of course not,” she laughed. “But that’s not why I’m showing it to you. Understanding the warp and weft of bladework is a finely tuned skillset. But you can learn to recognize the base elements. Once you know what you’re looking for, you can learn to disrupt it. Each of the two main styles can be countered by its opposite. No D-ranker is going to have a particularly large library of styles. They’ll be focused on one thing.”
“So if I can identify which type they are, I employ the other type to trip them up,” I said in understanding.
She nodded, then her arm blurred, and I felt myself be basically brutalized by the flat of her blade, sending me stumbling away to collapse to the ground, wincing in pain. “Of course, that’s easier said than done. If you want to be able to do anything, you need at least a basic competence learning to parse and break sword styles. But THAT I can help you learn in a few hours. Probably.”
Groaning, I climbed to my feet. My armor wasn’t broken, somehow, or even dented, despite her managing to strike me through it. Just to be safe I triggered Mornax, but I somehow doubted it would save me.
I took stock of my staff art, the various styles I had at my disposal, and then considered what she’d done. I triggered Dantalion, because what could help me learn faster or better than that? Then I triggered my waltz and exploded toward her, deciding to take the initiative to draw out her sword arts ore thoroughly.
That was a mistake. I was on the ground within seconds, and she nodded with interest. “Not a bad plan. Try it again. We don’t stop until you manage to break one style of each type.” I groaned again as I climbed to my feet, glaring at her despite not really being that upset. She just chuckled. “You know, I’m glad you asked me to help with this,” she told my wife. “Most fun I’ve had in ages.” Why were all high ranking Ascendants sadists?
Comments
dark phoenix99
Just like in real life fencing. Control the tempo of the duel. I was a nationally ranked fencer in my younger days and a dirty lefty. My instructors taught me how to leverage fighting with my opposite hand compared to most people to really mess with righties. But sometimes you just fight someone who's so much better than you they may as well be on a different plane of existence.
Void
The answer is simple, they are frequently also masochists, and thus their standard of what is normal is severely fucked.
