Aaron had lost count of the times he’d been knocked down and healed. The sun had moved overhead and toward the Dusk Mountains. Bug had led him through the basic offensive and defensive forms of the three grips. One by one, feints and counters had joined the training regime. No matter how hard Aaron pushed, he only ever got a few cuts or hits in—ones Bug just shrugged off.

  Not for the first time, he silently cursed the resistance attribute. A fist to the nose should at least bother someone. Never mind a kick in the groin.

  He had long since stopped caring about the sound of fighting around them. There is only my pain and my enemy. As Bug instructed him on how to deflect halberds with the buckler, their hands touched. Bug’s telepathy crackled through the contact.

  After–Night–New–Orders.

  Bug took a deep breath and touched one hand to his temples. Maybe I can beat him if I give him a killer headache?

  Then Bug continued. What–You–Do?

  Aaron stilled, gripping Bug’s hand. I can’t tell him. But Bug had made a mistake. A tactical error, he liked to say.

  Aaron focused on the magnetic sphere of his mind shield. Bug’s eyes widened, but Aaron locked his grip around Bug’s hand like a vice. Then he mentally screamed into the construct. The sound rang out like a furious gong.

  I–I–I C–C–CAN N–N–NOT T-T-TELL!!!

  Bug's mind pushed back, but Aaron felt his defenses flickering. A trained telepath could block stray thoughts. But this wasn’t a thought. It was a tidal wave of noise, a feedback loop turned sonic boom.

  Bug’s fingers twitched. His nose bled.

  He stumbled back, dropping his weapon. His eyes had gone dull. Aaron took two steps forward and placed the feather tip of his halberd on the fallen man’s throat.

  “Victory!” Aaron roared. His grin died as Bug convulsed.

  “Healer!” he bellowed, heart hammering. Fuck. I broke the one rule. Brain damage?

  A green-robed woman appeared instantly, running to Bug. She pressed her red-covered hand onto his face and frowned.

  “Grandmaster, I got brain damage!” she yelled, pointing toward the healer’s observation platform. A blur of grey and purple shot of the platform towards them. The grandmaster landed in the mud like a crouching predator, her braided long hair dangling over her shoulder. Of course. Bio manipulators. No wonder they bounce like cats.

  The lavender-robed woman touched a red fingertip to Bug’s forehead. At her hum, Aaron dropped to his knees, tears brimming. What have I done? Is he going to die?

  The Grandmaster tilted her head, amused. “Now, now, boy. No reason to panic. A little intracranial hemorrhage is not urgent.”

  She pressed two fingers to Bug’s temples. Red veins sprouted outward and grew into his skull like fast-growing vines. Aaron’s breath hitched. I did create brain damage. The green-robed healer held Bug down as he convulsed. Then, suddenly, Bug went still.

  “I cut the motor pathway for now. I hate it when the little shits keep squirming.” She clicked her tongue. “That’s why you need a better neuronal spell, girl. Never mind that your boy toy would appreciate it as well.”

  Aaron blinked in disbelief as the lavender-robed woman bickered like an old crone. The younger healer blushed furiously. Still pressing Bug’s chest, she kept her eyes down. The Grandmaster just rolled hers. “And your hemokinesis does need work too, if you look that ashamed.”

  Then, with a grin, she released Bug’s temples and slapped him hard. “Time to wake up, mighty master mage.”

  Bug groaned and stirred. With a splash of mud, the Grandmaster vaulted onto the palisade. Three more jumps, and she was back on her platform. The scarlet-faced girl mumbled something and ran off. Bug clutched his skull, groaning.

  Aaron rasped out, “Are you fine?”

  Bug croaked through the pain. “Get your weapon. Your training isn’t over.”

  He wants payback. Fuck.

  “Master Bug—”

  “Get. Your. Weapon.”

  Aaron retrieved the halberd, trembling with dread. Bug began the wide, long-grip attack sequence. The terrible anticipation in Aaron’s chest built with every motion. Bug’s strikes were clean. Precise. No anger on his face. This is worse than yelling. What will he do?

  They moved through the routine. Bug ordered Aaron to attack. They passed the halfway point. Still nothing unusual. Then center-defense. Short-offense. Long-defense. Maybe he really is just continuing—

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Suddenly, heat shimmered off Bug’s body. It felt like an entire cathedral’s worth of glass shattered behind Aaron. He got me. Fuck!

  Aaron threw himself forward—but a thunderous clap pulled him back like a vacuum. He screamed as he fell, still clutching the halberd with one hand. Then he hit something with a crack. Cold poured over him like fire. Ice. His hand scraped across the same deep blue crystal from before.

  He screamed in pain. Then something hooked his shoulder and yanked him out. Aaron dangled from Bug’s halberd like a fish on a line, shivering and panting. His blackened hand burned from frostbite.

  The healer approached with an awkward smile. Asshole. Though... I did deserve that.

  Bug coughed. “As your teacher, I admire the strike. As the one now cursed with the headache, I say: The Mother’s scales are balanced.”

  Aaron nodded as Bug pulled him free. Their clasped hands met. Bug’s grin infected him. “I’m still sorry about the brain damage.”

  “Don not be. I have suffered worse. I underestimated how dangerous you are. I should have known better, considering who you are keeping company with.”

  Bug stared at Aaron.

  Aaron shook his head and made a cross with his fingers over his ear. Bug nodded. Do I really want to tell him? No... The question is how much I can. He’ll learn eventually. But I need to understand his loyalties first.

  They moved on to basic katar techniques. Simple stabbing at first, but the transitions from halberd to katar—parries, binds, mid-combo switches—were far more complex.

  Aaron’s muscles were leaden by the time Bug knocked him over again with a casual sweep. Then came the most beautiful words imaginable.

  “Alright. Time to head back.”

  Aaron sighed and leaned on his halberd’s staff.

  Metal flashed.

  But this time, he was ready.

  He stepped back, deflecting the low slash with the butt of his weapon. The impact rang across the training ground. Aaron dropped into a low stance, halberd raised in high guard.

  Bug’s grin stretched wider. Aaron met his gaze with a feral smirk. Bug nodded. “Very well, I swear on the Chained Fist that it is over.”

  Aaron didn’t relax. Bug turned, then paused mid-step. “No trust. No safety. That’s the real lesson.”

  Then he walked off toward the underground armory. Aaron lingered for a moment before following. His legs ached. So did something deeper, something he wasn’t quite ready to name.

  Having handed in their equipment, the group gathered at the top of the stairs. Rhea was animatedly chatting with a cluster of Presidential Guard—who looked worse for wear. Shard glowered at the scene with her usual glare.

  Theon’s hair and face were smeared with blood and sweat, still damp from poor rinsing. He idly spun a strange blade through his fingers. Aaron approached him, casting a wary glance at Bug. He won’t get me again. Not like in the armory.

  “What’s up with your weapon?” Aaron asked.

  Theon twirled the blade again. “It’s an Estokar. A duelist’s blade.”

  Aaron examined it—a long, triangular blade with an odd hybrid grip. One side like a rapier, the other like a push dagger.

  Theon nodded toward Magus Blade, who gave a faint smile. “She gave it to me. Says it’s good for delivering poisons.” He pointed to the indentations running along each of the three flat faces.

  The group started walking toward the cottages. Conversation meandered as the students kept a wary eye on their instructors. Aaron tapped Theon’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t a halberd outclass something like that?”

  Theon shrugged, flipping the weapon into a defensive position. “In melee? Sure. But I’m training to become a Rifleman.” He nodded toward Shard’s obsidian combat suit. “Eventually, I want one of those. Plus, an energy rifle.”

  Aaron glanced at the black armor. The explosive bolt launcher on her arm with which she has been confident enough to threaten the werewolf alien. The smooth plates. She looks like something out of a sci-fi novel. How do they have this kind of tech—and still practice slavery? Or whatever this system is?

  He gestured at Shard’s suit. “Where do you even get something like that?”

  Rhea looped her arm through his. “In a Dungeon, of course. The Genius Loci provide arcane items and all sorts of wonderful loot.”

  Aaron raised an eyebrow. “What’s a Genius Loci? You mentioned the Academy has one.”

  Theon puffed his chest, slipping into lecture mode. Rhea groaned, but Aaron smiled. “A Genius Loci is the spirit of a place,” Theon explained. “Like seas or cities, they have domains. They defend them, but also shape them—generating resources, arcane materials, even trials.”

  Rhea gave Theon a jab with her elbow, which he dodged with a smug grin.

  “They’re usually aligned to a discipline, a location, or a concept. You’ll know when you’re near one—if you see glowing crystal growing out of the ground, you’re probably already inside their territory.”

  Bug, still walking ahead, threw in a casual comment over his shoulder. “The excursion in three ten-cycles goes to Azure Island. You’ll get to see a Genius Loci’s dungeon firsthand.”

  Everyone froze. Bug chuckled to himself. Shard glared at him. Theon’s jaw dropped and Rhea blinked twice in disbelief. Bug gave Shard a deeply apologetic look. “Better not tell anyone that I spilled a little secret. I really need to be more careful.”

  Thanks for the heads-up, oh great master mage. Aaron cleared his throat. “What exactly will we be doing on that island, Master Bug?”

  Shard cut in coldly. “You will accompany collector troops gathering herbs. If you’re lucky, you’ll fight something and maybe find an arcane resource.” She paused. “No more questions.”

  The group walked on in silence. Shard scowled at everyone. Aaron noticed someone missing. Where’s Bark?

  He turned around—and only then saw the quiet man walking beside him. Why do I keep losing track of him? I keep forgetting about Bark and Blade. Just like how I forget about the mindmage. Are there artifacts or spells that make you resistant to attention?

  If there are—I want them. I’d finally get some peace. Though… with everyone already naked all the time, invisibility might be less entertaining than back on Earth.

  They stepped onto the cottage plaza. Esnita stood there, hands on her hips. She glared at them like unruly children, waving the soldiers off like a mother chasing away fat pigeons.

  Then she locked eyes with Bug. “I have prepared a feast,” she declared. “This is still a squad, even if it doesn’t train together.” She sniffed. “So they will eat together.”

  Bug sighed and waved the trio forward. Aaron exchanged a glance with Rhea and Theon. And the day had been so nice. Now I can only hope that merely the mood is toxic.

  +++ Shout-Out Time +++

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