The Fusionist Book 2 -- Chapter 52

Chapter 52

“I don’t see why we can’t check out the arena,” Verne said as they walked along the perimeter of the park. “I mean, we haven’t even seen it up close yet!”

“I believe that’s because they don’t have weekly duels like we did back in Crystalview,” Nedira informed him.

Larek was just listening to them talk as they walked slowly around the park. It was a gorgeous day, not too hot nor too cold, which was a rarity up north. He was used to it being either cold enough to be on the verge of snowing, or unbearably hot; the in-between temperature swings were few and far between, but they were nice when they could get them. Most of the time it didn’t matter in the forest, as the foliage was enough to block out the summer sun, while in the winter there was a palpable heat that emerged from the landscape, as the Rushwood trees didn’t stop growing even in the middle of winter.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that too, but that doesn’t make any sense! What do they do around here for fun if they’re not dueling? And I’m not talking about the crazy Martials over there,” Verne continued, waving toward the Fort side of the yard where even now, on their rest day, the trainees were practicing their fighting. Not as much during the rest of the week, but still a significant number of them were participating.

As they walked, Larek looked at his Status, something he’d been neglecting to peek at over the last week. It wasn’t as though he’d not had the time, because he certainly had plenty; instead, it reminded him a little of being trapped down below the Academy with broken legs and the events following such an experience, which was the last time he’d really paid attention to them. When he finally looked at them, there wasn’t too much different than he expected, though something in his Skills made him pause.

Larek Holsten

Fusionist

Level 17

Advancement Points (AP) : 6/16

Available AP to Distribute: 17

Mana: 1330/1330

Stama: 400/400

Strength: 48 (+)

Body: 48 (+)

Agility: 48 (+)

Intellect: 70 [133] (+)

Acuity: 104 [198] (+)

Pneuma: 244 [464] (+)

Pattern Cohesion: 4,640/4,640

Mage Skills:

Multi-effect Fusion Focus Level 6

Pattern Recognition Level 13

Spellcasting Focus Level 15

Magical Detection Level 15

Mana Control Level 27

Fusion Level 30

Pattern Formation Level 30

Martial Skills:

Throwing Level 4

Dodge Level 6

Pain Immunity Level 20

Body Regeneration Level 25

During the hyper-focused creation of the Fusions in the storage tunnels, the ones that had been placed on the Mage staves, he’d ignored and dismissed all of the notifications he’d received for Skill Level-ups and anything else that might have distracted him. What he was seeing now was that he had managed to achieve Level 17 and now had an additional 17 AP to spend; he kept them banked at the moment rather than spend it on anything in particular, mainly because he didn’t know what he could possibly use them for.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention. Thinking back at the time he was creating the staff Fusions, he remembered achieving Level 30 in his Fusion and Pattern Formation Skills simultaneously early on. After creating a few more, he also received a Level-up in Mana Control and Spellcasting Focus, but the previous two hadn’t budged.

Have I hit another wall? Will I need to start creating Advanced Fusions, then Master Fusions, and so on in order to Level them up some more? Or is it simply going to take more Intermediate Fusions to advance another Level?

He wasn’t sure, but when he finally started creating Fusions again, he’d have to experiment to discover how it worked.

That’s fine, though, because I want to learn Advanced Fusions anyway—

“Larek! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Larek’s head whipped around to where he heard the unfortunately familiar voice, only to see the blue-haired, dark-skinned Martial trainee he recognized running up to him.

And she wasn’t alone.

He stopped, unsure what to do but glad his friends were there to help him if she tried something. With his recent experience being at the mercy of a Martial trainee, he’d rather there be some witnesses because he wasn’t sure if he could restrain himself from reacting poorly. Even as she approached, he could feel the hyper-focus settling into his mind; it allowed him to look away from her to see who else was coming with her. The one directly on her heels was a short, young woman from the Kingdom wearing a supple leather chest covering, knee-length cloth trousers, and a leather cap that protected her head. She held a bow stuck through her right arm and wrapped over her shoulder with a quiver of arrows at her hip. An archery-based Martial trainee, obviously, but other than that he had no idea who she was.

The other one that was trailing behind those two was someone he actually recognized, though he only knew him as the Noble that had been nearly bisected by the woman running in front of the other two, Penelope. Or Penny to her friends, but he wasn’t about to call her that anytime soon.

The recovered-looking Noble was wearing a chainmail shirt that fell to just over his knees, covered with a steel breastplate and other leather and steel armor pieces along his arms. He wasn’t as completely covered in armor as the Martial graduate on the Network carriage ride, Crester, but with his shield and spear he looked ready for battle. It was different from what he had been wearing before, which had been mostly leather, and he could only assume that he was wearing greater protection in case Penelope decided to try cutting him in half again.

For some reason, as they all approached, Nedira stepped in front of Larek as if she was going to protect him from some sort of attack. She had taken to bringing her staff with her wherever she went, so she could definitely use it to blind them and with her stats boosted she had plenty of Mana, but Larek hoped that her defense wasn’t necessary.

“Hello, Penelope. What can I do for you?” Larek asked politely, though without any particular interest in her. Everything she had done to him over their last few interactions had figuratively left a bad taste in his mouth, so he figured this was going to be the same.

The blue-haired Martial trainee slowed down once she arrived in front of Nedira, but she almost entirely ignored the fourth-year Mage as she looked at Larek over Nedira’s head. “I brought Barty to see you because he wanted to thank you himself,” she said, waving toward the older boy lagging behind.

Larek turned his attention to the boy, nearly a young man, as he finally arrived and stood there breathing heavily. “Sorry,” he said, gasping for breath, “I’m still recovering some of my endurance.”

“You look much better than you did when I last saw you, at least,” Larek replied with a smile. He was genuinely happy that he had helped to save the boy’s life, and it was good to see him up and around after witnessing such an awful wound nearly kill him.

The Noble nodded, his breathing finally slowing after his run. “I have you to thank for that – or so I’ve heard. I don’t really remember much of the fight and my injury; all I remember was fighting Penelope and then waking up in the healer’s ward, hungry and feeling weaker than I’d ever felt before.”

Rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, Larek murmured, “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s one of the side-effects of the healing.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for! I’d rather spend a month recovering from what should’ve been a fatal wound than be dead.”

His response was so similar to what Verne had said about his coma that he was forced to believe him. Larek supposed that even a month or so of convalescence was better than death. “Well, I hope you’ve been careful around Penelope here, because I wouldn’t want to see you nearly split in half again,” he joked, though he took it seriously.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Penelope has been restricted in her sparring until she can learn how to do it properly—”

“Hey, that’s not what the Head Drill Instructor said,” the blue-haired trainee interrupted, punching the Noble on the upper arm.

Rubbing his arm despite having armor protecting it, the older boy quickly responded with, “Well then, stop calling me Barty. I told you I don’t like that name; it’s either Bartholomew or Bart.”

“Whatever you wish, Barty,” she told him with obviously no intention of doing so. “Anyway, are you done with your thank you?”

“No… actually, yes, I guess so. I just wanted to add that if there is anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

“I’m sure that isn’t necessary, Bartholomew, as I was just doing what anyone else would’ve done if they had the ability. I appreciate the thought, though,” Larek responded.

“Just so you know, the offer is still there—”

“Enough of that, Barty. We have more important matters to deal with, now.” Turning to Larek’s entire group, which included Nedira, Verne, and Norde, she asked, “Do any of you know what a Skirmish is?”

Larek understood what the word “skirmish” meant, but he didn’t think that was what she meant. He shook his head along with the others, though Nedira did so reluctantly. She was holding her staff sideways as if to present a physical barrier that any of the Martial trainees would have to cross if they wanted to get to Larek. With how tense she was and having personally seen how effective her Naturalist spells were, he didn’t like the trainees’ chances.

“I figured, especially after hearing how new you were to the Academy,” Penelope said as she nodded. “Anyway, Skirmishes are the bi-monthly competitions between multiple teams that consist of both Martial trainees and Mage students,” she continued, waving toward the center of the park where the four different fortifications facing each other could be seen. “The competition consists of retrieving a brightly colored flag from an opponent’s fortification and bringing it back to your own – without ‘dying’. It’s a great training exercise that promotes teamwork between Martials and Mages, which I’ve heard is very valuable experience when most of the trainees and students graduate and enter the SIC. I’m going to eventually teach here or at one of the other Forts, rather than go into the SIC directly, but I can see the benefits.”

Larek just stood there, confused, as he waited for more explanation. When nothing seemed to be forthcoming, he asked, “And? What does that have to do with us?”

“It has to do with you because I want you on my team! We already have Barty here as our tank and Vivienne as our ranged representative, and of course I’ll be the main attacker with my speed and strength,” she responded matter-of-factly.

“But—”

“And with your healing ability, you’ll be able to keep us going for much longer than the other teams. Plus, I’m sure you could swing a mean sword with all those muscles of yours.”

“I have no desire to—”

“You can even bring your girlfriend! We’re still locking down our sixth member, but we could certainly used the crowd control abilities of a Naturalist.”

Overwhelmed and being interrupted at every turn, Larek held his tongue until he was sure Penelope was finished talking. Nedira, on the other hand, had no such restraint.

“No! We refuse! You just want us to do this so you can get your hands on Larek!”

The other trainees appeared uncomfortable at her outburst, and so did Larek if he was being honest, but Penelope smiled at the fourth-year Mage. “That is absolutely not true. I would just love to have his help on my team, because finding a healer this late in the game is nearly impossible. We would have less than 2 weeks to prepare, after all.”

“But he’s a first-year! Isn’t it against the rules for a first-year to compete?”

The blue-haired young woman shook her head. “No, not at all. It’s never really done, because first-years are typically inept in their abilities, but we’ve already seen that Larek can heal and would be an asset if that was all he did.”

“Larek, you can’t seriously be considering doing this, can you?”

The former Logger chuckled for a few seconds before responding. “No, not a chance. Why would I want to compete? What good would it do me? All I want to do is create Fusions—”

Penelope interrupted him once again. “Why? For the thrill of battle and for experience and for the glory of victory as we crush our opponents! Why else would you do anything?”

“None of that matters to me,” he explained while shaking his head. “So, my answer is no. Was that all?”

“Wait; you’re refusing to become part of a team that will participate in the Skirmish coming up? You have no idea what you’re passing up,” the young woman pouted as she spoke. “Any first-year would jump at the chance to participate—”

“Well, I’m not your typical first-year.”

“That’s for sure,” she murmured, but Larek caught it even if she was trying to speak under her breath. Just as she began to plead for him to participate, he cut her off this time.

“The answer is still no.”

She appeared angry and disappointed both at once. As she opened her mouth, with Larek and the others starting to turn away, he heard the archer, Vivienne, say, “See? I told you that we should’ve acquired our Mages weeks ago after the last Skirmish. Besides, a first-year? I know he healed Bart here, but wouldn’t he just be useless in every other way?”

“Oh, shut it, Vivienne. You don’t know what you’re talking about—hey! Where are you going?”

“We’re going back to rooms, foolish girl,” Nedira answered as Larek and the others turned away. “I suggest you do the same our you’re going to get hurt.”

“But I’m not done talking to—”

“That may be, but he is done talking to you.”

As they walked away, hurrying back toward their rooms, Larek heard Penelope shout, “The offer is still open for the next week! Please consider joining us, even if you’re only a first-year!”

She was so loud that dozens, if not hundreds of other students and trainees heard her, which made Larek want to walk even faster. By the time they arrived in Larek and his roommates’ room, the looks that he and the others received made it seem as though half the Academy had heard about the invitation already.

“The nerve of that girl!” Nedira shouted as soon as the door shut behind them. “I just want to rip her smug little face off!”

That seemed a bit extreme to Larek, but he didn’t say anything in the trainee’s defense, as he really didn’t want to participate in this Skirmish thing. Verne and Norde, having been quite bored without the weekly duels in the arena, were of a completely different opinion.

“I think you should do it, Larek,” Norde said abruptly with Verne nodding along, interrupting Nedira’s continued tirade as he was in complete opposition to his sister.

“What?! You can’t be serious, Norde!”

And so began a debate that Larek wanted no part of, which lasted until dinner and beyond. In the end, it only really mattered what Larek wanted to do, and he said as much once they had wound down a bit.

“I’m not doing it. I have not the slightest inclination to participate in any competition, and there is nothing you can do to sway me.”

That was final.

Book 2 Chapter 53: https://www.patreon.com/posts/fusionist-book-2-84464183