Dungeon Runner

Stepping Up, Chapter 86

Tibs's slash missed Alistair again, even if, as far as Tibs could tell, his teacher hadn't moved.

Alistair had been impressed with Tibs's ice sword, but he pointed out a flaw with it by placing a finger on the jagged blade and shattering it with a thought. Tibs had felt his control ripped away, but couldn't do anything against it. He comforted himself knowing that only another water adventurer could disrupt his control and that unless that adventurer was much more skilled or powerful than Tibs; he had his core reserve to use in such a contest.

His next attack almost connected, maybe. Tibs couldn't tell.

His teacher wasn't trying hard, Tibs was certain of that. He didn't have to; he had decades of experience over Tibs and he wasn't the one practicing something. Tibs was the one who had to keep his body suffused with water as he fought.

And Tibs now understood why his initial fights while keeping his body suffused with Water hadn't shown much results. He hadn't kept his body suffused.

He could suffuse his body with only thought under ordinary circumstances. Even walking didn't strain him. Fighting, on the other hand, posed multiple problems he hadn't considered. He could suffuse himself with essence with a thought, but he needed that thought to keep it suffused.

Fighting required him to use all his thoughts. He wasn't sure why he didn't notice he was no longer suffused at the end of a fight, but considering he'd tried it in the dungeon, in larger fights, exhaustion could be the answer.

He didn't have that problem with his shield and sword, because he couldn't not think about them as he fought. They were there; they were how he survived, so they were always in his thoughts. Other water essence-based attacks and defenses were instant, done, and over with.

"I think this is enough," Alistair said, as Tibs missed him again. This time, it had been Tibs's aim that had been horrible.

Tibs let go of his sword and it splashed to the floor as he put his hands on his knees and focused on breathing.

"How are you feeling?"

Tibs glared at his teacher. He wanted to switch elements. Purity would take away all his aches, wouldn't it? Make breathing simple again?

"Were you able to keep your body suffused?"

Tibs shook his head.

"Your fighting form is good. Did you get one of the fighting teachers to train you?"

Tibs shook his head again. "Another Runner," he wheezed out. "A convict."

"Ah. Yes, they are older so some of them would have proper training. Please reform your blade."

His breathing came in smoother, enough that he could stop thinking about it. He extended his shaking hand and his jagged sword reformed. It was more jagged than while he'd been trying to hit Alistair. His teacher studied it. "The jaggedness concerns me. You should be able to make a smooth blade with the level of control you demonstrate. That you can't, tells me you are deeply angry about something."

Tibs snorted. "I think the guild's given me plenty to be angry about."

"Anger and water are not—"

"That's bullshit," Tibs snapped. "Water doesn't care how I feel. Water's who is about soothing and making nice. I'm me. I'm a kid who got pulled here instead of losing a hand. And that I'm grateful for. But the rest? Everything since I got here? Being treated like food for the dungeon? Like some commodity the guild's already made plans for once I'm strong enough. And that was before I realized the guild doesn't care enough about the town and the people here to stick to the agreement it used to get them to come. That fucking guild of yours left us to die!" He waited for Alistair to snap at him angrily. To offer a defense for the guild's action. To say something.