"Alright, enough of that; let's go, girlie," Baelvyr said, standing up as his cup disappeared.
"Oh, okay. What was that, anyway?" Beth asked a little disappointedly, getting up and following him out of the lounge room.
"Just a lower leveled combat bout, nothin' to be antsy about," he answered calmly.
"That was lower leveled?! They moved so fast I couldn't see them!" Beth cried out in shock.
"Of course, it was low level. Just listen to what I tell ya, won't be long 'fore ya can move like that," he replied with a lethargic wave.
"Really? You can train to move like that?" Beth asked eagerly.
"Ya really have the heart for it, huh? What makes ya so eager, girlie?" Baelvyr asked her curiously as they ca up to the elevators.
"I dunno," Beth replied, finger tapping away. As they stepped in the elevator, she continued, "I've just always wanted to be strong, you know? I practiced fighting and I trained, and I spent so ti studying a lot of different things, but it didn't really matter. I could've practiced my whole life and not been half as strong or powerful as I already am. I guess after seeing a path open up to actually beco soone I've always dread of being, I just decided to do whatever it took to make that dream co true."
As they walked out of the elevator and down the hall, Baelvyr replied, "Others might laugh at ya for that kinda talk, girlie, but not . If ya can find an ambition like that to cling to, a dream that ya can feel even in your bones, that'll carry ya farther than any kinda expectation or responsibility. Ya want to be strong, ya'll beco strong. It's that simple."
Beth was quiet as they finished the walk to the training room, seeing it was the sa one they had used the day before. She spent the minute thinking about what he had said, and thinking about what she really wanted. Being strong, soone that could beat anybody, solve any problem; it was sothing she had dread of for a long ti. She still felt it was just a dream, even with the Path there to give her, well, a path to realizing that dream. She didn't really believe that she was all that special or strong, feeling like she was just so nobody. But she was determined to try, an ember already ford within her. Small now, but perhaps one day, it would beco a fla that could consu even the stars.
When they entered the sa room as yesterday, Baelvyr grabbed a controller again and started sothing similar to the second program they had worked on the day before. He had Beth go up and stand before a dummy, copying its stance and movent, walking her through the basics. As she trained, he first lectured her on the premise of the exercises before they really got started.
"Now, this part is important here, girlie. We're gonna build up yer foundation, the basic principles of how ya fight, and even before that, how ya move. Even how ya stand is important. I'm gonna drill it into that small head o' yers; by the end of next week, ya'll be standin' the right way even when yer brushin' yer hair in the mornin’, so help ," Baelvyr rumbled at her, a small frown on his face as he watched her move back and forth with the dummy.
His threat proved not at all for show, as she spent an entire hour just standing, moving forward, moving back, and moving to the side. Baelvyr gave her a break afterwards, telling her to get so water and one of the protein bar things in a blue wrapper out of the fridge, which would be safe for a normal human to eat. Afterwards, it was back to moving. Moving, and moving, and moving; another entire hour on moving.
As she was grabbing two drinks on her second break, she asked her instructor, "I know moving is important, boss, but I'm not getting any levels out of this. When can I start hitting things?"
"Don't ya worry none 'bout levels. Yeah, growing yer skills is important, but that's secondary for us right now. Let put it this way, girlie; ya think ya can build a tower to the sky with a first floor built outta mud? Of course ya can't, that's just stupid. It's the sa thing with all these damn kiddos these days, always talkin' about 'skill levels this; skill levels that,' " he expounded with a shake of his massive head.
"If ya don't learn and understand the basics, how are ya supposed to get to even Master rank in a weapon skill? Let alone all these kids dreamin’ about bein' the next Sword Sage or whatever. They don't even know where to put their two damn left feet, and they're gonna be a Sage or what have you? Bunch o' damn knuckleheads," he finished, his voice more a low grumble by the end.
"Alright grandpa, enough about the kids," Beth quipped, sitting on a bench near him while slugging down water.
"It's a damned sha, I tell ya," Baelvyr ignored her quip, seemingly building up a full head of steam. "So of these damn brats have so real potential. We could see a new Sage or even Divine. Can ya imagine that, a Sword God or sothin'? But do these kids take the ti to train and practice? No, of course not. Especially them rich assholes. They basically have mommy and daddy buy 'em a bunch of skill levels, gettin' them easy runs through dungeons or a decent trainer to whack 'em a little. Then they're so surprised when they can't figure how to get past the first big bottleneck at the top of Expert realm. Stupid punks."
Beth had given up already on stopping him, enjoying the longer break while listening to him rant. It wasn't all worthless, either, with his rant revealing several new things. It seed there were rich families who still had wealthy privileges, just like on Earth before the integration started. It also sounded like Baelvyr was very ridiculing of those that spent money to level up, being much more a hard work and effort type. Not really surprising; just after a day and a half being around him, Beth already had this sort of 'work hard, do it right the first ti' impression of him.
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"Now enough blatherin'. Finish that second bottle and get back up there, girlie," he rumbled at her, scratching the side of his massive gut with his pillar-like fingers.
She hadn't quite believed his earlier threat, but maybe from his fit of pique, or maybe because he was just a straightforward type, Beth spent the entire day training her footwork. In the afternoon it wasn't just the dummy, but Baelvyr himself stopped just passively observing and started to instruct her, comnting on how she placed her feet, how big her steps were, the exact angle she moved, and even a slight tilt of her body this way or that while she stepped. And if anyone thought moving for a whole day might not be that hard, they could think again. Under her instructor's relentless commands, Beth was drenched in sweat and barely had the strength to stand by the end of the afternoon.
"Not bad. I think ya might have a little potential," Baelvyr comnted while absentmindedly thumping the top of his gut with his free hand.
"I feel like I'm dying," Beth wheezed, lying on the stage looking up at the ceiling control chanism.
"Relax kid, ya ain't dying. Trust , it feels a lot worse than a good workout," Baelvyr responded, a slight hint of grimness in his tone.
"Oh, I know. I ca pretty close a few days ago. One of the reasons I don't mind all this," Beth replied, sitting up and waving around the room. "I know I have a lot to learn. Almost got killed by a shitty little level eight wolf."
"Haha, so ya do know how to cuss a little!" Baelvyr bood out, slapping his gut as he rumbled a deep chuckle that again made her teeth rattle. "Well, good! We'll work more on this tomorrow then."
"Just let rest a little and I'll be heading out," Beth sighed in response.
"Get so more water and have another nutrient bar. Room'll lock after ya leave," he rumbled out in response before walking out the door.
Beth did just that, draining yet another bottle of water before having her third bar of the day, the second having been eaten in the early afternoon. She might not even eat much for dinner tonight, especially after Baelvyr had told her just how many minerals and calories were in each bar. Finishing up, she dumped the containers in a chute in the corner of the room, everything disposed of in such a manner falling into a type of recycling system that ran throughout the building.
Beth headed out of the training room and wandered down to where Jaq resided, marveling at how easy it was for her to rember the couple turns to get there. She entered to once again find the room empty, the cases full of various equipnt and gear. She walked up to the counter with no one behind it and leaned against it, looking over at Blood next to her while she waited.
"Bored, girl?" she asked casually.
Blood just chuffed in response, wandering off to sniff around the cases.
"Oh, it's you," Beth straightened around hearing the voice, seeing Jaq walk out of the far-left door this ti. "What do you want?"
"Is that what you call custor service?" she asked a little testily.
"No. But then, you're not a custor. Don't make that face, girl, I know you're absolutely flat broke," he replied coolly, overriding her before she could interject.
"Well, I will be a custor when I get more money," she snapped back.
"And I'll be a king when I find a crown lying about. I repeat, what do you want?" he answered, totally nonplussed at her venom.
"How much would a bastard sword and two good daggers of mana copper be? And how much for so decent armored shirts and pants? How much is the stuff that, like, Tazeen wears? And how much would actual steel cost? And what do you do all day back there?" She fired off at him in rapid succession.
"A sword would be eight silvers. Ten silvers for the pair of daggers. I could outfit you with armored chest pieces at twenty-five silvers each. Armored pants at twenty silvers. The stuff Tazeen wears would bankrupt your planet. Mana steel for your level would be well over twice the price. And what I do on my own ti would make your head spin, if it didn't just pop from trying to understand it," he replied coldly, waving her off as she prepared to fire back at him.
"Fine, I'll be back when we have the money ready. Let's go, Blood," she said petulantly.
"See that you have so silver the next ti you bother , little ndicant," he replied uncaringly, walking back into the far-left door as Beth stomped out, Blood trailing silently after.
She walked back to the elevators and took them back up to the ground floor before navigating back to the front area and out into the lobby. As she exited the door, she found a group of people were standing at the outer doors, all looking at one person. Looking closer, she realized the person was the man she had encountered the afternoon before, and he was unable to enter through the doorway. She walked over and leaned back against the counter between Tazeen and John, watching the spectacle with the two of them.
"A gold piece they try to push the dumb bastard through," John said with a smirk. Tazeen clasped his hands behind his back and didn't respond, rely watching the show.
"How long have they been there?" Beth asked.
"Oh, about four or five minutes now," John answered, quirking an eyebrow as two people indeed tried giving the unruly man from the day before a push. "Damn, my gold piece!" he bit off grumpily.
"No one would take such an obviously lopsided wager," Tazeen said calmly.
"Leave my imaginary gold pieces alone, you loon," John muttered angrily.
"Well, as funny as this is, I do want to leave at so point today," Beth said calmly.
"It seems they are abandoning their poor companion to the whims of fate," Tazeen comnted, the group leaving the unruly man standing outside the door.
The group approached the counter, seemingly stunned by Tazeen and John's appearances, not even taking note of Beth and Blood at first. It was only after a mont that one of the group of about eight noticed the two of them with a start, elbowing another mber of the group. That set off a whole round of startlent, as the group noticed the two of them standing in front of the counter.
"Welco to the Combat Ranking Association White Hall. How may I be of service?" Tazeen caused round three of bewildernt to ripple through the small crowd as he addressed them in English with his standard first ti greeting.
"You really do speak English!" exclaid a man in the group, several others quickly shushing him. Beth sidled along the counter a little farther from the group, stopping on John’s far side.
"Stop if you've heard this one before: Eight yokels and a loon walk into a bar…" John muttered, leaning forward on the counter next to Beth. She covered her mouth and made a coughing noise to cover her laughter, but the group was distracted as Tazeen continued talking.
"Yes, we have acquired the rudints of your language. How may I help you?" he said to the group.
"Uh, can I ask why Tom can't get in the door?" sobody else in the group spoke up before the leader could say anything yet again.
"Because he was impertinent and threatened a mber in good standing, as well as the organization itself, within CRA premises. He has been barred entry for a period of one year, pursuant to good and honest behavior," Tazeen replied levelly.
"Yokels," John muttered again.
"Look, we can talk about Tomas and his behavioral issues later. We have co here to discuss this group's seizure of town lands," the woman in the lead spoke up sharply, glaring around at the rest of the group.
"Head yokel," John muttered again, sounding sohow both impressed and sarcastic at the sa ti.
"How'd you sound like that?" Beth muttered back to him, giving him a bit of a quizzical glance.
"Centuries of practice," he replied, a casual reminder that there was a new kind of life expectancy in this new kind of world.
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