Lament of the Slave

Chapter 114: Detour

Skills, skills, and skills. Right now, it was the only thing occupying my mind, and the same questions kept popping up. Which ones to choose, which one to forget, and last, which current skills to replace?

Even before class evolution, it was obvious that this was going to be challenging. Just the choice of the class itself was. After all, it was a decision that would affect the rest of my life, but I didn't think picking the right skills would be any harder. Right now, it even seemed impossible.

The problem was that I didn't have a clear idea of what I wanted to be.

Was it a fighter like Deckard? Handing out kicks or whatever it was he was doing. Come to think of it, I've never seen him fight before. However, he wasn't the problem now; I was.

So back to me, to my fighting style.

Should I use my claws? That would require some specific combat technique, though. Has anyone even fought like that? Terrans, perhaps? It was worth asking.

Or my claws could be like Deckard's swords, a backup option in case my fists weren't enough. The [Fierce Pounce] could help me deliver some heavy hits, and combined with the [Mantle of Magic]....ah my imagination went wild.

On the other hand, the [Fierce Pounce] made my claws sharper and even deadlier. Basically, the skill was telling me to use them if I chose it. Plus, the [Mantle of Magic] could have given me so much more than just lit my fists on fire.

I let out a sigh. Life on Earth seemed much simpler now, or rather more peaceful. There, I never had to think about how I wanted to kill. Those were the days!

That all changed here on Eleaden. I become a fucking murderer? Yes, I did, had to! Still...better not to think about it. If I wanted to avoid similar situations in the future, I needed to solve my current crisis, a problem that didn't seem to have a solution. Which skills to choose?

"Grr...." A frustrated growl escaped my throat while I ruffled my hair in despair.

"You all right, lass?" The voice that reached my ears snapped me out of my thoughts, almost making me yelp in fright. Looking up, I expected to see Marcus, but instead, I found a middle-aged woman in front of me. Who was she? Why was she here?

[Florist: lvl 58]

What the actual fuck?! Did the imperial soldiers let her in?

Then, as someone nearly brushed up against my wings, passing by, a realization hit me. This wasn't a barracks. I left those some time ago with Deckard. That raised the question. Where the hell was he? And more importantly, where the heck was I?

Judging by the busy street behind me and the flower-lined shop in front of me, I was somewhere in the city. Where exactly? I had no idea.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought."

The woman laughed. "I could see that. Is it a guy that's on your mind?"

Guy? How the hell did she come up with that? "No! Why would...?"

"Are you sure? You muttered this one name...what was it...Deckard?"

"That's my mentor," I said hurriedly, to avoid any more misunderstandings.

The florist chuckled. "Oh... many hearts have fallen for their mentors, teachers, and masters."

"For real?" Not what I meant to say, as I intended to correct her that it wasn't my case. Though my curiosity got the better of me. "Does that happen a lot?"

"I married mine."

"Oh..." What could I say to that?

"Are you buying flowers for him?"