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Chapter 151: One more form

“Huh? It’s not really that specific,” Reya replied, flinching slightly in response to the touch. “I just have to master Wyrmhunger. Why? Do you know something?”

Olive breathed out a sigh of relief and let her hand slip off Reya’s shoulder. It took her a second to realize that everyone was staring at her. Her face paled a shade and she busied herself re-collecting the sheets she’d lost.

“Have you heard of Challenges before?” Arwin asked when it became clear that Olive wasn’t about to volunteer any more information on her own.

Olive paused halfway through bundling herself back up. Her gaze bored into the floor for nearly a second before she let out a sigh and straightened back up. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” Rodrick asked. “It sounds like there’s a story in the making.”

“There’s no making.” Olive hopped back onto her chair and leaned against the counter. “It’s already over. Challenges are a curse.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell us what you know about them?” Arwin asked. “We were all under the impression that they’re concealed or otherwise hidden from the general public. Nobody here knows anything about them.”

Olive drummed the fingers of her good hand on the table. It was a bit hard to make out her body language when she was covered with bedsheets, but Arwin was pretty sure that her back had gone stiff.

Her fingers fell still and curled in to form a fist. She let her hand slide of the counter and turned back to face them with a defeated expression. “Fine. I suppose you already shared a lot with me, so it would be wrong to refuse to repay the favor.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of Challenges?” Rodrick asked.

“Not in the slightest.” Olive let out a bitter snort. “I had one of the damn things.”

“You’ve got a Challenge?” Reya leaned in closer. “What is—”

“Had a Challenge. It’s gone now,” Olive corrected. She rubbed the stump of her missing arm and grimaced. “I hate the damn things.”

Nobody said anything. It was clear that Olive was going to say more, but she hadn’t quite mustered the will to speak yet. The seconds turned to a minute. Olive leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.

“I got it about two years ago, back when I was part of an adventuring group called the Grim Shadows.” she said finally. “And it ruined my life.”

***

Olive’s sword carved through the air in a streak of light, splitting it faster than the untrained eye could pick up. It sheared straight through the sword swinging at her shoulder and, before its wielder could so much as react, she planted her foot into his stomach.

He flew back, hitting the packed sand just moments after his sword did. The man went to rise — and froze, finding Olive’s sword just inches from his throat. He let his head fall back to the sand as a bitter laugh slipped from his lips.

“I’ll be damned. You actually got all five of us. How in the world did you manage to do that without getting a single scratch on you?”

“I was faster than you.”

Olive pulled her sword back and slid it into its sheath. She held a hand out to help the man to his feet, but he’d already risen by the time she’d offered it. A man and a woman sat behind her on the sandy floor of the arena, looking mildly peeved at best.

“Can’t you ever say anything better than that? It’s kind of frustrating.”

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Jason,” Damien, the other man, said as he joined them in the center of the small training arena. “Olive doesn’t know the meaning of giving useful feedback — or being slow.”

“It is useful. You need to be faster,” Olive said, her brow furrowing in irritation. They were all good warriors. There was no denying that. It was just that there was more to fighting than swinging a sword. It didn’t matter how strong a sword blow was if it could never connect with its target.

Powerful blows were great when one was fighting in a group against a monster weaker than them. It made the battles trivial — but against an opponent with significant skill, speed and power had to be balanced.

I don’t see the problem. If they just focused on learning some skills that improved their speed or putting time into practicing being faster rather than just hitting harder, I wouldn’t be outperforming everyone so hard.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Olive has a better class than you do,” Bea said, brushing her long, blonde hair away from her eyes and tucking it behind an ear. “There’s no reason to compare ourselves to her. Just do better with our rank up at Adept tier.”

“She’s a whole bloody rank below me.” Jason didn’t even try to hide the irritation in his voice as he looked down at the worthless sword in his hands.

“We weren’t sparring with abilities,” Olive said. “I would lose if you used any of your powers. This was just a difference in swordwork.”

She’d meant the words as a compliment, but by the way Jason’s features tightened in anger, something told her they hadn’t landed the way she’d intended them to. Before Olive could say anything else, Bea laughed.

“I think we’ve had enough sparring for the day. There’s a deal at the Copper Coin today. Half-off on drinks if you can beat Gorog in an arm-wrestling contest.”

“That halfwit?” Jason asked through a snort. “I could beat him with my eyes closed.”

“You don’t typically need your eyes for an arm-wrestling contest,” Olive said.

“Thank you, Olive,” Jason said dryly. “Come on. I’m starving, and we’ve been wasting time here for hours already. No point tiring ourselves out before tomorrow. Big day and all that. Everyone coming?”

The others all nodded, but Olive hesitated. “I’m not done with my training for today. Maybe I’ll—”

“Join in a few hours,” Jason finished, the inflection of his voice changing to match hers as he rolled his eyes. “Right. See you tomorrow morning, Olive. Make sure you aren’t too exhausted. We can’t afford to fail. This is our chance.”

“I know,” Olive said. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword as the others all headed out, leaving her alone in the arena.

She kept her features flat. That did nothing to still the clenched knot in her stomach. It was her choice, after all. She was the one that stayed to practice instead of spending time with the others. It wasn’t fair to complain when they left and did what they’d been planning on doing.

Nobody wanted to spend all their time practicing. That didn’t stop her from wishing that someone would stick around a bit longer, even if she wasn’t going out with them. It would have been nice to have company.

It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting stronger. Jason was right. Tomorrow is our chance. We can get ourselves ranked. We’ll get access to so many restricted dungeons. The fame and money wouldn’t hurt either.

Olive adjusted her grip on her sword, raising it in her right arm and going through a form. It felt like she’d practiced it more times than she’d drawn breaths. Olive’s eyes drifted shut as she sank into the movement of her blade.

Her mind followed its path in the air around her. She didn’t need to see anything. She knew its exact position. It was more than just a weapon. It was an extension of her body. An extension of her mind. It was part of her.

Olive danced with her sword, pressing herself as hard as she could. There were always spots to improve in. Her legs could move just a bit faster. Her balance could be just a bit better. Every single bit counted. Every single improvement was a step closer to her goals and every single step was a reminder of how far from them she really was.

She pushed herself harder. Mediocrity wasn’t enough. There was an entire world of power stretched out before her, waiting to be claimed.

If I just try harder, I can —

Olive missed a step. It was a small mistake, but it was enough for her to trip over her own feet. She stumbled and caught herself before she could fall, her teeth gritting.

It isn’t enough. No matter how hard I try, I’m not good enough. The others don’t get it. I don’t just want to be strong enough to survive. I want to be better.

She let her eyes drift open — and froze in place. Golden letters shimmered in the air before her, patiently awaiting a response.

Challenge: [Master thy Sword] has been offered.

[Master Thy Sword] – You have sought mastery over the sword for your entire life, striving to achieve it with such intensity that all other aspects of your life have been left to fester. Here’s a chance to claim that power you so desperately desire. Rewards: Variable depending on level of success.

Milestone 1: When the time comes, restrictions will be placed upon you by the Mesh. Defeat an opponent the Mesh selects to remove the restrictions and advance upon the path of the blade.

Reward 1: ?

Milestone 2: ?

Reward 2: ?

Would you like to accept the Challenge?

Olive stared at the words floating before her, her mouth falling askew in shock. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was around. The arena was empty. It wasn’t like it mattered. The only person that could see the Mesh’s offer was her.

What in the world is a Challenge? I’ve never heard of anything like this before.

Her confusion did nothing to change the letters. Olive didn’t know what had caused them to appear. This hadn’t been the first time she’d thought about trying to get stronger. It hadn’t been the first time she’d failed in her forms, nor had it been the first time she’d beaten the others in a fight without skills.

There was no reason the Mesh would have offered her anything. And yet, the floating words remained all the same. She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder again. Her eyes were drawn back to the Challenge almost instantly.

The Mesh offers things directly to people? That’s a bit concerning. It almost feels like making a deal with a devil. But it doesn’t lie. If this is really the Mesh… it could be the solution I’ve been trying to find.

Olive lifted a hand. It drifted in the air, not even daring to reach out and touch the glowing offer. She swallowed again, then steeled her nerves and set her jaw. She’d come this far in the pursuit of her dream.

It didn’t matter what the Challenge was. It didn’t matter why she’d gotten it. This was just another step. Nothing she’d gotten so far was easy. Power never came without cost, and if that cost was handicapping herself during a fight…

I don’t care what the handicap is. I’ll win.

“I accept,” Olive said.

The words vanished with a snap. Olive stood there for a second longer, staring at the empty air as if waiting for something else to appear. Nothing did. Her grip tightened on the handle of her sword. Then she raised it once more.

The night was young. She could always catch up with the others in the tavern a little later. Just one more form wouldn’t hurt.