Chapter 85: We Are Getting That Wizard Potion And I’m Also Changing My Weapon
The wolf tries to retaliate with another icy breath, but I'm ready this time. I roll under the frost and come up behind it, driving my spear into its back. The wolf howls in agony, and I can see its movements slowing. I pull the spear free and strike again, aiming for its neck. With a final, pained yelp, the Frostbite Wolf collapses, defeated.
"Well done." A delicate, feminine voice sounds from behind me which is accompanied by clapping. I turn my head tiredly to see that my lovely samurai has long since dispatched her opponents and was busy enjoying the show of me running like a headless chicken from the damn annoying ice spells of the wolf monster.
"Ayame, we are getting that Wizard potion and I'm also changing my weapon. I'm done being this straightforward of a combatant that I am currently. I'm basically a fucking foot soldier, a peasant farmer that got conscripted into the lord's army and was given a steel spear to go plunge it up my assho- excuse my language- I'm getting a bit frustrated."
She raises an eyebrow as she silently observes me vent my sudden anger. I don't understand why I'm so irritated out of the blue either. "I have two damn usable spells, [Power Strike] which lets me thrust my goddamned spear with slightly more power and [Lesser Evasion] which allows me to move slightly faster. How boring of a combatant am I?
After we are done with today's agenda we are renting the pack mule thingy and selling our hidden stash of wares in another town, then I'm getting the alchemic elixir and a new weapon." I state matter of factly.
Her questioning gaze turns into one of understanding as she smiles at me gently, like a mother would when seeing her angsty teenager son vent about his trivial problems.
"First of all, I don't know how armies functioned in your old world- on a side note I would greatly appreciate it if we could chat about your previous world sometime later as I'm honestly dying from curiosity- but in this place Farmers are never conscripted.
A single level 10 combatant could massacre a battalion of Farmers, even if they are properly armed and armored, as they have no combat abilities and their non-class levels are almost always between 1-3."
She then continues, "as for your concern regarding your lack of current attack variety I understand you completely, but you should realize that this is your fourth day being a combatant… On my fourth, and even my hundredth day I was hacking away with a wooden sword at a training dummy or having a mock battle with my instructor but you are having death battles against war trolls, level 15 Warriors, and are a certified labyrinth diver.
Though, knowing you, all of this matters little, right?"
I finally stand from my seated position and dust my clothes off. "Right. These are all meaningless niceties if I die because my opponent realizes that all I can do is poke them with my spear and strategizes accordingly."
She nods, finally understanding the nature of my sudden anger spike in its entirety. "I see. Well, we shall do as you said then. I agree on the spear part at least, you are way too crafty of a fighter to wield such a straightforward weapon. It was an excellent beginner tool that allowed you to learn the very basics of combat but you've clearly grown out of that phase of your training."
Hearing her logical reasoning I finally manage to calm my nerves. "Sorry for lashing out, I don't exactly know what came over me…" I state somewhat apologetically.
She looks at me with a slight smugness evident on her features. "The first time we came to the labyrinth you told me that you enjoy being my student because I'm patient, didn't you? I'm going to help you improve to the best of my abilities, so don't hold your thoughts back next time either.
It was our original deal after all; I train you for three years and you help me exact vengeance on all who are responsible for my fall from grace and my father's almost certain assassination."
I return her gentle smile with one of my own. I'm once again reminded that I, in fact, have the most amazing teacher I could ask for. "You are right, Ayame. Let's get going then. I have a proposal, though. These wolves seem to be pretty good at strategizing as they intently split the two of us up, though the fact that you just dashed into the midst of them certainly didn't help…"
She looks away sheepishly. "You are right… I thought all four of them would focus on me but they didn't behave how I expected them to."
"It is what it is. Could you handle all of them at once?"
"I wouldn't die but I would have to be on the defensive, that's for certain." She then grins at me mockingly, "what, don't tell me your brilliant strategy is to throw your delicate companion into the midst of five angry and hungry canine monsters while you poke their behind at your leisure."
I scoff, "delicate? You? The girl who stood up after taking a war troll's full-force punch is calling herself delicate, what a funny world I've found myself in! Let me remind you that Blossom was only thrown to the ground and she was completely out of commission for the rest of the fight while you went back and beheaded it!" I joke. Well, somewhat.
I've described her with that exact word at least a dozen times by now, but my hypocrisy knows no limits. I might call her that, but my little murder machine can't label herself as delicate. It simply doesn't feel right.