“Ready?” asked Silas before continuing, “Then come at me!”

  Sebastian took a deep breath, and he launched himself at Silas at top speed. There was no plan or strategy in mind. He moved without much thought beyond testing his own strength and to see how an experienced swordsman would handle it.

  With his full, considerable strength behind it, he swung diagonally down at the swordsman.

  Silas responded by calmly swatting the strike aside, using Sebastian’s own strength against him.

  As Sebastian stumbled from the sudden shift in balance, he promptly received a slap on the back by the flat side of Silas’ sword, which was enough to tip that balance over the edge and send him tumbling down.

  “Had this been a true fight, you would not have survived,” he said, shaking his head as he evaluated Sebastian’s current mastery of the sword. “There’s more to wielding a sword than simply swinging it around. The blade requires guidance. When you first start out that guidance comes from learning proper technique. Then, once you have that technique mastered, it turns to a matter of instinct. Finally, once you become a true master, your sword is guided through intent alone.” Silas got back into position and called out, “Again!”

  Sebastian stood up, rolled his shoulders, and once more launched himself toward Silas. This time he tried to be aware of where he was going, and where he was swinging. He stomped his foot right in front of Silas and swung vertically down, aiming for Silas’ head. This time he was standing firmly on the ground and had no intention of losing his balance.

  Silas dealt with this attack with the same level of calm and ease as the last one. He took a casual step to the side, letting the sword swing down right in front of him and lifted the tip of his sword to point directly at Sebastian’s throat.

  “Dead, again.”

  At this point, in spite of the fact that he had historically been a rather calm person, Sebastian was getting frustrated. He had overcome great odds to survive and make it this far. He had trained diligently, and forsaken sleep most nights. All to become stronger than any human in his home-world had ever been.

  Still, he was being toyed with by the first true fighter he faced in this world, and it kind of got to him.

  It was something he had noticed happening more and more ever since he arrived in this world. Back home, he rarely experienced many big shifts of emotion, even when he was in tough spots, but here he found himself frustrated and angry and excited at a lot of things.

  He didn’t give up.

  Sebastian kept trying to keep each of Silas’ counters in mind as he moved. Gradually he started to last more than a single swing.

  Silas too began to enjoy himself more than he let on. Sebastian’s stubbornness and unwillingness to give up made Silas question his initial impression of him.

  When Sebastian first arrived and threw money around to solve his problems, Silas figured that he was just another rich brat who was scared of the draft but clearly he was wrong. Sebastian was serious about getting stronger.

  They continued sparring for a few hours as neither of them wanted to stop. The rest of the hunting party mostly went about their business, but all of them came to watch the spar from time to time. A couple of them were even inspired to do some training of their own.

  As the two fighters sparred, Silas proceeded to teach Sebastian a few moves, nothing impressive, but he went over the fundamentals that Sebastian so desperately lacked.

  POV Bishop

  The sound of clashing steel echoed throughout the chapel. It served as background noise for the rest of party for most of the day.

  Bishop was cleaning his axe in the common area—as he tended to do regularly, even when it wasn’t technically needed—when another of the hunters walked up to him. The hunter was wearing light armor and had a bow strapped to his back and daggers at his side.

  “Hey, boss!”

  “Dolan,” Bishop responded with a nod.

  “I was wondering. I’m all for earning some more money and all, but why were you pushing for the long game with this one? We’ve been in something of a groove lately.”

  Bishop shook his head and put down his axe. “True, but there’s an issue this time, unfortunately. We’ve been running so many clients that we haven’t quite met our quotas, and the pres’ is pissed. She’s been trying to get me in a one-on-one for the past month, and I’m avoiding her like my life depends on it—which it very well might, at least until we’ve cleared the quota. Figured we could run a couple of hunts with this one, bring up our numbers and earn some extra coin as we go. But this’ll work too. We’ll just have to play catch-up on the way back. Luckily, she doesn’t know about this place, so she hasn’t been able to track us down yet.”

  A flash of fear revealed Dolan’s respect, and trepidation, about the Hunter association president. “I haven’t seen the president lose her temper for a couple of years, are things that bad?”

  Although he was one of the strongest hunters in the association, Bishop still shared Dolan’s trepidation. “With the earful she gave me last we spoke and how adamant she’s been about this meeting, I’d venture a guess and say yes. We’ll train this guy up for a couple of weeks, get him across, and we’ll be productive on our way back. Then I can make good with the pres.”

  “Alright, I’ll trust you, boss. I’ll keep an eye out so she doesn’t catch any of the others when they’re out and about.”

  Dolan walked off and Bishop went back to tending to his axe.

  POV Sebastian

  Sebastian gradually got used to fighting with a sword in way he never had before.

  Thus far he had only really swung it like baseball bat and relied on a sharp edge to do some damage, even if he had tried his best to emulate whatever professional he’d seen on TV. And it had worked wonders against weak opponents. Against Silas, an expert swordsman, however, he needed a more thoughtful approach.

  In a way it reminded him of chess. He had heard people say similar things about boxing and other sports back home, but he never really understood it. Now that he was experiencing it himself, at a level far beyond anything that was even possible back home, it was forced into his brain.

  Every strike required him to have several options for his next action already prepared. If Silas dodged left, do this. If he dodged right, do that. Always be prepared for a counter-attack and whenever possible throw out a counter-attack in return.

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  The spar also helped him practice how to use his powerful liquid essence to his advantage. Circulating his essence—especially when focusing it on places in his body that needed more attention, like his feet to move or his hands and arms to strike—vastly improved his overall performance.

  After a few hours of sparring, Sebastian could last as long as a few minutes per fight. It wasn’t much but when compared to the handful of seconds of his first attempt meant great improvement. In fact, the continued improvement was one of the reasons why neither Sebastian nor Silas wanted to stop, or more accurately, had completely lost track of time.

  At times, they took some brief pauses where Silas showed Sebastian several techniques, or movements, used in his style of swordsmanship. Even then, he didn’t go quite so far so as to teach Sebastian his sword style, he only showed the basics which were the same or at least similar in most contemporary styles.

  Sebastian absorbed everything Silas showed him like a sponge.

  He wasn’t sure how much his Titles and Talent contributed, but he felt like he was meant to be a swordsman. Everything he learned felt so natural, as though he was born to wield a sword, and he had wasted his life by never touching one before.

  That didn’t mean that Sebastian, being roughly the equivalent of level 26, stood a chance against Silas who was clearly a much higher level.

  If this had been a true fight, Sebastian wouldn’t last half as long as he did during sparring before Silas would strike him down.

  The two finally stopped their spar when the others served dinner. They had sparred for almost 12 hours.

  Silas returned his practice sword to a rack on the side of the room. “I can’t believe you’re just level 26, your strength and stamina rivals someone level 35.”

  In the middle of the room, lying splayed out on the mat, Sebastian breathed heavily from exhaustion. He almost wheezed out his words, “Oh please, you were going easy on me.”

  “I mean, that’s true but still. I’m impressed. If you hadn’t promised me otherwise, I’d say that you were born with a Talent for swordsmanship,” Silas said as he looked down on Sebastian with his hands back in his pockets.

  Bishop stepped into the doorway. “So he passed then, Silas?”

  “He sure did, boss. Honestly I wouldn’t mind if he joined us right now. Even at level 26 he’s better than some hunters and warriors I know who are well into their level thirties.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, that makes it easier. Still, rules are rules. Come, have some dinner now that you both have worked up an appetite.”

  Sebastian, having had to force himself upright, walked up to the dinner table where the entire hunting party were already filling their plates. The only exception was the vaguely Asian man—wearing what looked like a mix between a Jedi robe and a wizard’s robe—who was busy carrying pots filled with roasted and steamed vegetables to the table.

  The only member of the party who Sebastian had not yet heard speak, now spoke loudly as he shoved food into his mouth. “You’ve outdone yourself again, Rafi. This stew is fantastic!”

  “Thanks,” said Rafi as he placed down the last pot and then sat down to join the other. “I’m not sure anyone else would agree, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

  “Anyone with taste buds would agree!” the other man replied without even looking up from his plate.

  Sebastian had to agree with the massive man who he had learned was called Carvell, the stew was excellent. Carvell was even larger than Bishop, half a head taller and quite a bit wider as well.

  While they ate, the party members each introduced themselves to Sebastian. In total there were 5 hunters in the party.

  Bishop was the leader, then there were Silas the swordsman, Carvell the tank, Dolan the rogue and bowman, and finally Rafi the support mage.

  In addition to managing the support for the party during hunts, Rafi also handled the support for the party in everyday life with cooking and cleaning and various other tasks. He explained that through magic most otherwise tedious chores could be handled with relative ease. As a result, the support role tended to fall onto the mages in most parties, and this one was no exception.

  Once dinner was finished, the rest of the group moved over to the couches to play some card game while Bishop pulled Sebastian aside.

  “So, Baz, I understand you came in on the train the other day.” During the spar earlier, Silas had decided that Sebastian couldn’t be called kid anymore. Someone who earned his respect also earned the right to be called a proper name, so he called him Baz. The others in the party took to it as well. “If you need a place to sleep, there’s a spare room in the back. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s got a clean bed, four walls, and a roof. Tomorrow morning we’ll head out to purchase everything we need for the spirit bath.”

  Sebastian took him up on the offer, it certainly beat paying for an overpriced room at the Blue Bell.

  They joined the others, and they all played card games until late in the night. Sebastian wasn’t much of a drinker, but he didn’t refuse. Indulging in a few glasses of what tasted like a fruity vodka while playing a rather strange card game with a group of hunters was just the distraction he needed.

  His physical cultivation helped combat the alcohol, so he could have more than he otherwise would have.

  It ended up being a surprisingly normal night.

  The next morning Bishop took Sebastian on a trip to the center of Luxendorf.

  Sebastian had wandered around the city for a bit after he arrived, but he had barely seen a fraction of its true splendor. He hadn’t exactly known his way around, and he had other things on his mind. Now, he had a guide and could take it all in from rickshaw-esque vehicle Bishop had hired.

  In many ways it felt like traveling through London or some other big modern city from back home, except there weren’t any cars so the roads weren’t built for modern vehicles.

  Everything was built around the circumstances of this world. That meant that the streets were wide so as to facilitate both crowds of people walking around and carriages being pulled by various tamed monsters. Some looked similar enough to horses while others were the size of elephants pulling massive carts.

  There wasn’t much in the way of logistical traffic control on the streets. Once you stepped out from the sidewalk, it seemed that the only rule was, Try not to get run over.

  People wouldn’t hesitate to call out to those in their way. Sebastian couldn’t hear any honking horns, but the sound of people shouting and various monsters making noises reminded him plenty of the streets in any big city on earth.

  The rickshaw dropped them off in a busy area, and Bishop effortlessly led them to an enormous building in the central district. It practically covered an entire block.

  High above the entrance, in the center of the front facade, was a large decorative potion bottle which looked to be filled with some faintly glowing yellow liquid sloshing about. Above that, Sebastian could see purple smoke escape from a few chimneys and vents on the roof of a side section. Directly above the entrance was a grand sign.

  “Alchemical Emporium”.

  The inside was every bit as impressive as the outside.

  Once they cleared the inner gate, the space opened up to a grand shopping center, hexagonal in shape. The Alchemical Emporium had four floors, each with a mezzanine filled with all kinds of stores and workshops. In the open center was a magical display of an animated sea monster—half blue whale, half kraken—swimming in midair around the third and fourth floors.

  Bishop walked straight to a shop on the second floor where he greeted the alchemist working there like an old friend while Sebastian wandered around the store, browsing the magical wares.

  “Eleazer! Good to see you again, friend,” Bishop said with his arms out, as if going for a hug. It was rejected.

  The shop owner, Eleazer, looked like your stereotypical scientist, lab coat and all. “Bishop. I hope you’re here to deliver those jackalope horns you promised me. Supplies have been annoyingly sparse recently.”

  Bishop donned an awkward smile. “I’m afraid not. They’re coming, I promise you that! We’ll get some more on our next hunt. I’m actually here to purchase some spirit pastes. We’re helping our friend here with some spirit baths,” he said and waved Sebastian over.

  “Oh, here to spend someone else’s money, are you? I won’t complain.”

  “Thought you’d like that. We’re not going for anything top shelf, but I know you always pride yourself on the quality of your wares, even when it doesn’t live up to your own impossible standards.”

  “Come with me then,” Eleazer said as he led them to a display case in the back of the store. “These should do the trick. Lindwyrm, level 59. 7 spirit coin, 49 gold,” he pointed to his first offer. An adorned box surrounded by a faint pink mist.

  Bishop shook his head. “Too high level, anything over level 50 is just gonna go to waste. He’s level 26, he’d be knocked out for weeks, if not die outright. Got something else?”

  “Certainly,” he pointed to another box which almost seemed to be trembling on its own.

  “Minotaur, level 44. 3 spirit coin, 69 gold.”

  Bishop directed a stern gaze at the shop owner, who furrowed his brows in response. “Bring it down to 3 even and I’ll double our next delivery.”

  Eleazer couldn’t hide his shock at the shameless request. “You’re late on your last delivery, and you’re using a new promise to bargain?” The two stared at each other for a short while until he finally gave up. “Ugh, fine. Take it.”

  Flashing a satisfied smile, Bishop said triumphantly, “Pleasure doing business, as always!”

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