Battle Admin System 3

3 - Grimmer’s Throne

Prosthetic Adjustment leveled up from 2 to 7!

Lillea smiled at the notification. The runes adjusted automatically based on when she viewed them last. Whoever made the system designed it to be efficient.

The single-armed pushups with her metal arm weren’t getting any easier from what she could feel. They only felt a tad smoother. It was always hard to tell with the early levels.

Prosthetic Adjustment leveled up from 7 to 11!

Euphoria spread across Lillea’s mind. Chills passed through her body. She loved seeing the numbers go up. She could faintly feel her prosthetic improve more. The last rep felt even smoother than before.

There was still pain and discomfort. It wouldn’t grow on her instantly. The spot where metal fused with flesh throbbed and ached. But Lillea kept pushing, her ears filled with her pounding heart.

She couldn’t stop now.

I won’t ever stop!

Prosthetic Adjustment leveled up from 11 to 14!

She sweated a little. Just a little. Her athleticism was monstrous compared to her human counterparts. Most adventurers had no idea how mighty Lillea could be. Most didn’t know she was ranked a legend. They assumed she was noble, a lesser rank.

She hadn’t shown the full extent of her abilities in front of others yet. She’d been humble while building herself up the past couple of years. It was slow going. She taxed her mind more than usual.

For once, she focused on connections outside of her kind. It was worth the trouble, and she was merely scratching the surface. The metal arm was proof. Ogun had come through for her despite the challenge of servicing a giant.

The power of friendship was real if she tended to it with care and commitment. Pruz was scared of her, yes, but she cared for him and the goblins. They worked hard because she had their backs. That, too, would bear great fruit.

Prosthetic Adjustment leveled up from 14 to 17!

Lillea struggled at the border of pain and ecstasy. She wanted to keep pushing. She wanted more skill levels. But the arm was new. The flesh hadn’t adapted fully even after the healer’s administration.

The mana channels needed time to flow correctly through the arm. The healer and Ogun were of accord on this. They told her to take it slow.

Lillea still wanted to push. At least let me get to Level 20. Just a few more levels.

“Please don’t hurt yourself, Lady Moonstrider.” Fiona cowered in front of the giant. The adventurer receptionist was trying to inform her of the commissions. Her fear remained, but her concern for the giant was greater.

That was both embarrassing and adorable.

Maybe Lillea should listen.

Or maybe I should get to Level 20.

She could hurt herself and ruin her new arm.

I’ve been careful for so long. Please, let me push and break free! Let me run wild!

“Do not fret. For I am mightier than my size.” Lileah completed more reps, grunting in pain. “I must keep going.”

Adventurers old and young watched in admiration.

The giant didn’t soak in their attention. It was welcomed, but unnecessary right now. This was all about her progression and breaking away from the past.

I will reforge myself anew. I will not be the weakling of before.

Prosthetic Adjustment leveled up from 17 to 21!

Lilleah collapsed with a rumbling thud. Fiona tripped backward. She squeaked like a mouse but found herself sitting in Lillea’s right hand, safe and sound.

Pain throbbed around Lillea’s left shoulder, washing over her in waves. Her hunger grew ravenous as her body mended the micro damages to her tender flesh. She felt lighter.

This pain didn’t compare to battle wounds. She relished in it. She loved her new arm.

Lillea rolled lazily to her right and gently swung Fiona closer to her face. “I’ve decided. I’ll do a partial escort to the south and handle another job on my way back here. What of the bandits? They must be holding the routes to the port town.”

Fiona nodded rapidly. “Dangerous bandits, these men and women. Level 200s mainly. Might have 250s as team leaders. Might have a 300 or two at the top. Ranks? Adventurer, most likely.”

Lillea nodded along, listening intently. Her silver-white eyes beheld Fiona as if the little human was the most important person in the world.

Fiona fidgeted in Lillea’s palm. “So, yes. These are stronger than usual bandits. Might be due to the high levels of the north. That’s pretty threatening for young adventurers, for sure. We’ve received reports of kidnappings, deaths, and thievery. It’s choking out our recruiting supply, and many of these young adventurers are from distant lands. And you know how the nonhumans struggle.”

Lillea helped the receptionist stand. Then she propped her cheek on her right palm and lounged in the middle of the adventurer’s square. She looked inquisitively at Fiona, and the commoner stood straight under the giant’s inspection.

Lillea asked about the pay. The receptionist answered and received a snort from the giant, gusting Fiona’s outfit.

“The bandits would be less of a problem if the pay was better,” Lillea said. “Senior adventurers won’t take those jobs compared to exploration of the north.”

“We can’t afford to pay more for banditry clearing.” Fiona grimaced, doing her best to represent the guild. “These bandits are both stronger than normal and a tricky lot. Adventurers have been bought off on these jobs. Gave us little to show for their work while taking from the guild. It’s normally guard work, but the stretch between Cold Tooth and Port Precipice is long for guards.”

Fiona leaned close and pushed up her spectacles. “Maybe if you clear it up and provide proof to the port, you can get paid there and here.”

“You’ll believe me if I say the bandits have been cleared?”

Fiona nodded vigorously, her brown curls bouncing along. She pressed her glasses back up her nose again. “Your reputation is flawless, Lady Moonstrider. When you are sent on a job, it is taken to task without reproach.”

Lillea glanced away and hoped she wasn’t blushing. Sometimes, even she could be overwhelmed by praise. Fiona’s words hit exceptionally hard. Right to the heart.

“Is there something wrong, milady? Did I fail you? Please forgive me.” Fiona lost her confidence and went back to trembling with fear.

Lillea carefully poked her with a metal finger. Fiona stumbled back and tried to keep from dropping her papers. Clearly, Lillea needed more practice with her metal hand. She played it off with a warm smile.

“You’ve served me well, Fiona. Assign me the closest escort. Half-pay for partial safety. Leave the banditry job for later. It doesn’t interest me right now.” I’ll have a goblin tell her to assign me the job before I leave. It will do no good if bandit ears hear of my approach early.

Fiona looked disappointed that Lillea turned down the bandit work. The giant felt her heart hurt a little. But this was necessary.

Lillea loved attention. But she also strived to understand its pros and cons. That way, she could trick humans who constantly think they were smarter than her.

***

The caravan was leaving from the southern gate tomorrow. Lillea had the rest of the day to enjoy herself before returning to the wilderness. She normally stayed longer in Cold Tooth. But gaining her left arm lit a flame inside of her that burned hotter than a dragon’s breath.

She left behind the adventurer square, granting a gaggle of children a ride from one part of the city to another. They sat in her palms and forearms. The more daring of the lot hung from the threadings of her pant legs.

No danger would befall them since Lillea was long practiced in moving softly when necessary. And children tended to have survival skills that toughened their bodies.

Their mothers chided the children once Lillea dropped them off. The giant stayed to chat about the daily gossip.

A few interesting events worth commenting on floated about. Lillea usually had the effect of reeling up the brightest conversations from commoners or she would move on.

Apparently, Lord Oxford had a mysterious woman visiting him at night. Servants at the manor caught her using the service entrance for common laborers. The rumors had only reached these flock of mothers because they had family members working at the manor, confirming such with multiple witnesses.

Interesting, interesting. If it’s as innocent as a mistress, I might have the weapons to tease that old human for the next time he ‘battles’ me.

Lillea tried to hide her predatory smile with an innocent one. She had an interesting relationship with the Official Cold Tooth Lord. Thankfully, her current stay would be too short for him to bother her.

Satisfied, the giant lended the mothers her ear while carefully chasing children with her left hand for dexterity training. She stayed longer than necessary, but the commoners seemed to appreciate it before she departed for Grimmer’s Throne.

Prosthetic Adjustment leveled up from 21 to 22!

Grimmer’s Throne looked like a chair for a giant. The bottom floor was longer than the second floor. Before Lillea became a regular of Cold Tooth, seeing the tavern from a distance and knowing the owner, Grimmer, gave the name credibility. With Lillea a known factor of Cold Tooth, there was an undercurrent of suggestions for the tavern to be renamed Lillea’s Seat.

Every time she went, Lillea pushed aside the temptation to sit on the low ceiling and lay back against the second floor structure. She doubted it would survive her.

Worse yet, if she happened to crash through and sit on patrons– and they didn’t die– she would never hear the end of those tales. There were already more songs about her posterior than she cared for.

Behind the tavern was a walled-in courtyard. Tavern wenches and cooks moved to and fro with large items in hand. A young girl lifted an entire table by herself and propped it against the wall. Another girl carried a barrel under each shoulder and on top of her head.

A broad fire crackled with red embers, the flames licking at a fat and juicy slab of boar meat spinning slowly on a spit. One cook threw fireballs to heat up the fire. Another cook conjured a gust of wind to fan the flames. A third cook split logs with his fingers and stacked them for later burning.

Lillea made her entrance known by walking normally. The tavern laborers greeted her with cheer and respect.

Grimmer came out from the tavern. For an elderly adventurer, his long golden hair remained a subject of topic. He held himself like a king who’d abdicated from his throne to live a humble life. The tavern had ‘throne’ in the name for a reason.

Lillea graciously accepted his warm welcomes and the spirited cheers of his workers. They even had hay piled against the wall for her to sit comfortably.

For hours, Lillea played, feasted, drank, and enjoyed whatever entertainment the staff had to offer. One brave wench placed herself at Lillea’s mercy to improve her metal hand’s dexterity.

With the other hand wrapped around a large cask of mead, her metal hand chased the nimble wrench up and down and around her lap. Sometimes, they’d settle into a playful tussel where the wench wrestled with her fingers. Or she would dance with the giant’s fingers when the bards put on a thrilling performance.

Prosthetic Adjustment leveled up from 22 to 24!

Playing with her metal hand was a worthwhile exercise for Lillea. Dexterity was just as important as strength. Having a drink increased the difficulty.

No doubt, the wench suffered a couple falls and a few bruises. Lillea always stopped to ensure her safety. But the girl was the sturdiest among her peers. And there were coins involved for her participation. She did not stop until it was obvious she was too beaten to proceed.

Prosthetic Adjustment leveled up from 24 to 25!

That was quite fine. Lillea hit a soft milestone at Level 25. The progress would slow some. She would need more difficult challenges or training.

Since she had a good bit to drink, she focused on feasting. Roasted slabs of boar meat disappeared down Lillea’s gullet. Fatty juices dripped from her chin and onto her bust. Mead washed it down her throat before she reached for another slab to feed her ravenous hunger and add to her survival.

Ravenous Survival leveled up from 178 to 179!

Ah, that’s a pleasant surprise. Lillea tried to think positively. Ravenous Survival was a helpful skill. Even if the way she had earned it was dark and brutal.

And evil.

But that was from a time before Cold Tooth. A time when Lillea was more akin to a beast after losing her family and her arm. It’s a good skill. I’m more than what I was before. I’m not evil. Not anymore.

Lillea checked the skill runes.

Ravenous Survival (Level 179): Feast to your heart’s content. Dead or alive, your meal will add to your survival. Feast on more meat and bone, increasing the density of your body. Injuries and poisons can be healed from excess density.

Images of the past flickered through her mind.

Darkness. Pain. Sorrow. Other giants. Not Moonstriders. Not the killer. Acceptance. Hunger. People crying in terror. Fleeing. Begging. Unable to escape. Apathy and hunger. No more crying people.

Satisfaction.

“Lady Moonstrider, you’re getting pig fat all over me!” squeaked a tavern wench caught in Lillea’s metal hand. The girl laughed like it was good fun, held inches away from Lillea’s face.

When did I grab her? Lillea forced herself to smile and placed the wench down.

More slabs of roasted boar meat fell on a wooden platter in front of Lillea. Another cask of mead replaced the empty one. Wenches danced merrily between Lillea’s thighs. Bardic melodies and poems shifted from slow to fast, retelling of old legends or new tales.

They sang a song with her name without angering her. The song complimented her deeds and sounded good while she engorged herself and let the wenches keep her entertained. It helped her move past the near slip-up.

Finally, Lillea’s hunger was satisfied. Her mood for drink settled. She shooed away the tavern girls and ignored their cries for her to stay. When she moved to a crouch, her footfalls sounded deeper, heavier. Her leathers strained a little more than before.

She looked forward to her next location and trusted Grimmer to pick out the appropriate coins plus a generous tip from her pouch. Grimmer and his workers bid Lillea a farewell, bowing like proud servants as she carefully strode toward the hot baths.