Edmund never really had a choice from the very beginning. Despite not being the expedition leader, and perhaps solely because of his naval inexperience, the Baron was still the highest-ranking noble on the ship. Defying Lord Greylock wouldn’t do Edmund any good, or anyone associated with him.
After a few more minutes of convincing from and Leofric, he finally and reluctantly relented.
I left the dining hall in peace and silence. Without him buzzing around like a fly, everything felt lighter. I greeted the open air with a blissful sigh.
This ti, the main deck was relatively empty. Only a handful of people talked in low voices, most of them sailors tending to the ropes.
I had slept through the whole afternoon, and with the slap of the cold sea breeze, I was very much awake. I didn’t want to go back to the small, suffocating cabin so soon. If only I had rembered to buy a book in the port town, I might have had so form of entertainnt, especially with my [Low-light Vision].
I moved to the railings and decided that watching the waves of the open sea would have to do.
I enjoyed the sight more than I thought I would. Not in the sa way as the peaceful adow outside my window — there was nothing peaceful beyond the ship.
There wasn’t much wind, but the ship sailed over rolling swells that seed like they might swallow it whole. The sea looked like a vast expanse of moving hills, and the Defiant Resolve was just a small, helpless thing drifting through.
In every direction, there was no land in sight. Just the horizon, where the water t the stars.
The morbid thought of the ship overturning and sinking, of floating on the surface while the rest went down into watery graves, almost made smirk before I caught myself.
It didn’t entertain for very long. Past the threatening swells and the landless horizon, there wasn’t much to see. Not even anything underwater.
So, I summoned the blue sheet of light. Again, I noted how it did nothing to illuminate my surroundings, despite the glow.
[Status nu – Traits
Base Trait: Deathless
Adapted Traits:
Cold Resistance III
Amphibious Respiration
Dense Musculature
Low-light Vision
Pain Tolerance III
Balance Compensation
Rapid Clotting
Adaptive Regeneration
Kinetic Conditioning
Predator’s Reflex
Predatory Focus
Damage Conversion
Pierce Guard II]
It had beco a habit of mine to open the list whenever I had nothing else to do. Reading through the descriptions still entertained enough to waste an hour or two.
I guess you could liken it to a mage admiring his spellbook. Only, I couldn’t see spells — I had only this floating sheet of light. And while mages glory in their spells because of the years of study they pour into them, I was proud of my traits because of the pain and suffering I’d gone through to acquire them.
And if you asked whether I’d rather work for years or suffer horribly for a single day to gain them, the answer would depend on when you asked.
If during the unbearable pain — I’d choose years of hard work, or even life without magic. But once the torture was over, the thought of gaining overpowered traits just by surviving a single day almost seed too good to be true.
"What are you doing here all alone in the darkness, young sir?"
The familiar voice pulled from my thoughts. One I’d only recently co to know.
I turned, not knowing I would face imdiate hostility.
The viscount’s bastard stood close, one hand holding a lantern, the other cocked back toward my face in the shape of a rocky fist.
Maybe I could have ducked fast enough, but my body already recognized the attack. It was one I’d brushed off before.
A repeat of what happened in the line earlier occurred. The earth wrapped around his fist crumbled away, all thanks to the [Kinetic Rebound] trait.
Twenty percent of the force reflected was just enough to shatter the rock covering without damaging his hand. Then it beca just a regular punch — one I could easily shrug off with [Kinetic Conditioning] and [Pain Tolerance III].
"I knew it. I wasn’t mistaken. I thought I had subconsciously dispelled my magic when I noticed I had hit you," the bastard nervously grinned.
"Was this about earlier, sir? I think it was Master Edmund who offended you. I don’t condone his behavior, nor am I associated with him," I said calmly. After so many brushes with death, this princeling couldn’t hope to intimidate . Still, I was wary of the inconveniences this encounter might cause if it went south.
He set the lantern down and pulled sothing from his tunic. I already knew it was a blade before he lunged at with it.
He was at least two heads taller than and twice my size. His movents showed he was no stranger to combat. My reflexes were sharp, but I had no trait yet that directly boosted speed.
I couldn’t keep up. The knife was already at my chest before I knew it. My traits would keep it from being fatal, but instinct still drove my hand to catch the blade.
It pierced flesh. A sharp pain — like the bite of an ant.
[Kinetic Rebound] went off imdiately. He fumbled the knife as though it burned him. He hopped back, keeping his stance, watching with a bewildered expression.
[Pierce Guard II], which I’d picked up and upgraded during the goblin encounter, did its work. The blade had only shallowly pierced my palm, and the wound was already closing.
I glared at him. Now I knew — he wasn’t just trying to rough up, he wanted dead. I thought of shouting for help, but the nearby sailors couldn’t stop him. Besides, I already had the feeling I could handle this.
"Just to be clear, sir — you wish to take my life because my face got in the way earlier? I don’t want to insult your bloodline, but you’re playing right into the stereotype, bastard," I snarled. I was slow to anger, but he had just tried to kill .
"You— you’re a demon! That’s why! No human can sniff out a spell like blowing out a candle. No... you didn’t even try. You just stood there and my spell unraveled," he said, his voice trembling. He might have even believed it.
"Have you considered your spell might just be a little weak?" I retorted.
"I killed knights in great helms with the sa spell," he shot back.
"And why would you think switching to a knife would be better?" I asked, glancing at the weapon lying on the deck.
"That knife’s made of silver. Bet your hand burned," he grinned.
I showed him my palm. All that was left was a faint bloodstain.
"Seven gods in the seven heavens!" He staggered back. "The wound is already healed. You really are a demon!"
"How does that make sense?" I furrowed my brow. " being unhard by silver should prove the opposite, no?"
"Or the knife’s not really silver... I bought it cheap from a bald tinker," he muttered.
I shook my head. "How do I prove I’m not a demon?"
"Look! A duck!" he shouted, pointing out to sea.
I turned instinctively — then caught myself. Why would there be a duck in the open sea? Seagulls aren’t ducks, and I hadn’t even seen a gull or any bird at all.
Sothing hit on the head.
I glanced back at the viscount’s bastard, then down at the bulb of garlic still rolling on the floor.
I sighed. "Happy now?"
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