Ch 24 — Training on the ship

  Arthur lunged forward with his sword, aiming toward Gustav’s left shoulder.

  Gustav took a graceful step back, perfectly calculating his distance—leaving the point of the sword barely a couple of inches from him. And then responded by pushing the sword away with his own sword, and making a quick backswing toward Arthur’s stomach.

  Arthur had to jump back to avoid the sharp blade.

  Gustav pursued him. He took a couple of fast steps forward, riposting towards Arthur, first up, then down, then to the side, keeping a stumbling Arthur on the defensive, walking backwards and trying to parry the attacks.

  The rest of the Gamers sat on the ship's railing, witnessing the sparring match. At one point, Arthur got too close to them while retreating, and Mark had to grab Liam to make sure he didn’t fall down into the ocean—it wouldn’t have been the first time it happened.

  Three days of heavy sparring had helped Gustav improve his [Swordsman] Class to Level 5.

  And for the first time, he seemed to be about to defeat Arthur.

  Arthur’s face betrayed his frustration. He kept trying to find some weakness in his opponent, but Gustav’s improved speed, reflexes, and his [Basic Footwork] Skill were keeping him ahead.

  Gustav managed to graze Arthur’s forearm, making him drop his sword—and it could have decided the spar. But Arthur responded by kicking him in the stomach with his left leg, making him retreat a couple of steps. And he recovered his sword, keeping a low guard and letting the blood from his forearm drip down the steel blade.

  There was a murmur of appreciation among the Vikings on the other side of the narrow deck. Erik Bloodaxe and Harald interrupted their own sparring match to watch the Gamer’s spar.

  The Vikings had been training the Gamers, teaching them as much as possible about warfare, about the use of swords, daggers, and axes, trying to make them into worthy allies for the upcoming fight against the Mongols. They seemed proud of the Gamer’s learning speed—accelerated by Level Ups and Skills.

  Arthur and Gustav circled each other for almost a minute, studying their opponent. Both were breathing hard. Arthur feinted high, then struck low—towards Gustav’s stomach. Gustav avoided him with a gentle step back—a product of his [Basic Footwork] Skill—, again getting just out of reach, and then used the balls of his feet to spring forward, gently pressing his sword on Arthur’s neck.

  Arthur loosened the grip on his own sword, letting it fall to the wooden planks of the deck, conceding defeat.

  It was official.

  Arthur had been defeated.

  For the first time, one of the Gamers had managed to beat him.

  A smiling, proud Gustav gently moved the sword away from his opponent.

  “Good fight,” Arthur muttered, grabbing his sword from the ground and walking away.

  “Yeah, good fight to you too,” said an exultant Gustav. Some Vikings approached him and patted him on the back, congratulating him.

  Liam was jumping from the excitement of the fight. He walked towards Gustav and asked to be his next sparring opponent.

  Erik Bloodaxe looked with interest at Arthur, who approached the two water barrels and drank a little using one of the wooden cups. The two big barrels of water, completely full, had been there on the deck when they had been brought onto the ship. There was more water and some preserved food in the lower deck.

  Emily approached Arthur and offered to look at his forearm. He didn’t seem eager to speak with anybody, but he did let her grab his arm, and she whispered her [Heal] Spell to close the injury.

  Emily had picked up healing magic faster than anyone expected.

  After just one day, she had gone to sleep and received the [Healer] Class, with a basic [Heal] Spell. It consumed a lot of her mana, and sometimes she had to take a couple of hours of rest before she could heal some injuries. But it helped a lot.

  Thanks to all the sparring matches, and the fact that they seemed to Level faster if they went all in, Emily had increased her [Healer] Class to Level 6.

  It had been a little weird to explain to the Vikings that the “wench”—as they called her—had some magic healing abilities. Mark had shown them the book they had used to learn magic, and even allowed the Vikings to try their luck with it, hoping they would awaken some Class that would help them survive the Mongol battle—but none of the ten Vikings had been capable of facing the book for more than a couple of seconds.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Luckily, the Vikings had shown themselves to be pragmatic people. And even if they couldn’t learn magic, they had happily taken the opportunity to have the pretty girl cure their injuries.

  Gustav told Liam that he would spar with him later, that he was too tired to do it now. And it was decided that it was Wyatt’s turn to spar with Liam.

  Wyatt had been the first one Emily had healed. It had taken her almost a full day of work, but he was walking again—and Emily had leveled up almost three times in a single day. Wyatt was still a little stiff with his left leg, but they didn’t know if it was because it wasn’t fully healed or if it was something psychological.

  Mark ignored the incoming spar and approached Arthur, still near the water caskets. Arthur was looking toward the back of the ship where Tobias was practicing his magic, ignoring everybody else’s training.

  Tobias had also achieved a [Mage] Class. He was Level 4 and had unlocked a [Fireball] Spell.

  He was currently practicing his accuracy on the back of the ship, throwing [Fireballs] toward barrels tied to the deck with some rope, swaying in the ocean at different distances to be used as targeting practice.

  His [Fireballs] were the size of an apple, and could be pretty dangerous if he managed to hit a vital spot. Nobody had offered to act as a guinea pig, but judging by the holes he made on the barrels, they would easily take a decent chunk of meat if they managed to hit. It wasn’t enough to kill somebody with just one hit, but a few of them would get the job done.

  For obvious reasons, he was forbidden from using his [Fireball] Spell within the wooden ship.

  “Fucking Gustav,” Arthur said, acknowledging Mark’s approach. “He’s improving fast, isn’t he?”

  “You have to stop. I know what you’re doing.”

  Arthur smiled.

  “What am I doing?”

  Mark looked around to make sure nobody was listening. Then he focused on his friend, trying not to raise his voice too much.

  “You don’t have a fucking Class, you arrogant motherfucker.”

  “What are you…”

  “Don’t bullshit me. I have known you for all my life. You refused to gain a Class the first night, and you have been refusing it since then, haven’t you? It wasn’t special enough for you, right? You got [Swordsman] like Gustav. Or [Scout] like Liam. But that’s not enough! Not for Arthur the Great! He shouldn’t have a basic fucking Class.”

  Arthur smiled a little—as if he had been caught and didn’t really care.

  “So?”

  “You cannot beat them—not Gustav today, after he’s managed to gain just five Levels. Not the Mongols in a few days, when we have to fucking fight them. You need a Class. You need Levels. You need to accept whatever Class you receive. Because we’ll need any edge we can take.”

  “It’s easy for you to say, you have a fucking awesome Class. The rest of the Classes everybody has received are absolutely dull. The first Skill seems to be basic footwork, or shit like that. Nothing about premonitions from gods, or avoiding swords by becoming a fucking ghost, or throwing goddamn fireballs.”

  Arthur looked at Mark, who, like everybody else, was covered with little bleeding injuries that were too small to bother Emily with.

  “Look at you, you’re too good to even train with the rest of us. You’re fighting with the Vikings already. And I have to take some loser Class?”

  It was true. Mark’s Skills, and the instincts provided by his Class were allowing him to fight with some success against the Vikings. He was still losing more than he won, but he was getting more and more dangerous with the dual dagger style—Mark knew the style had a disadvantage on reach, but the instincts provided by his Class drew him toward it. After a particularly close fight, Harald had said that he fought like a “goddamn demon”.

  Mark insisted:

  “Don’t get us all killed because of your massive ego. Please.”

  Arthur smiled.

  “I don’t promise anything. Anyway, I’ll go take a nap. And if I’m offered something worth having, I’ll accept the Level-Up.”

  They had instituted a nap time regime to maximize level growth. The last three days had consisted of training and sparring matches at full intensity, and then going to sleep below deck, hoping to Level Up and get some new Skill.

  When he came back to the upper deck, Arthur looked at Mark, rolling his eyes, and announced that he had accepted the [Swordsman] class. Level 2. And he had received the [Power Strike] Skill.

  “At least it’s not as boring as the footwork shit,” he added. “Happy now?”

  “The only reason you accepted it,” Mark answered, “is because you can’t stand losing and not being the best at everything. Don’t act as if you’re doing me a favor.”

  Arthur chuckled.

  “I’ve grown up a lot since we last met, you know?”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  Arthur immediately approached the Gamers and challenged Gustav to a new sparring match—eager to recover his supremacy.

  Gustav accepted.

  And, again, Arthur completely dominated. He was faster than before. He had more reflexes. More strength. Gustav seemed surprised at the difference and found himself immediately on the defense.

  “I see your friend decided to finally accept a Class,” said Erik Bloodaxe, approaching Mark.

  Once again, the Viking king proved to be way more observant than Mark was comfortable with.

  Mark nodded, not seeing the point in lying about it, and continued witnessing the spar.

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t punish his comrade too much for daring to defeat him,” Erik Bloodaxe added.

  “Let’s hope so,” Mark answered. He was a little worried about Gustav; the Viking king was right—it was dangerous to hurt the ego of somebody like Arthur.

  The spar ended fast. Arthur broke through Gustav’s defensive stance with his [Power Strike], cutting a diagonal slash across Gustav’s chest.

  Gustav fell to the ground. His face contorted with pain. His shirt soaked with blood, which started to filter down through the wooden planks.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Emily asked, rushing towards them. She immediately started healing Gustav’s injury. “You could have killed him! If you’re not careful, you’ll get an injury above my healing spell.”

  “I’m okay,” said Gustav, with gritted teeth. “The Mongols won’t have any mercy. We have to be ready.”

  That got Arthur’s respect. He nodded to Gustav and helped him get up.

  “Again?” Arthur asked.

  Emily had barely managed to stop the bleeding. She was about to start shouting when Gustav answered:

  “Again.”

  And they started sparring again.

  If the Mongols think we’ll be easy pickings… Mark thought, they’re in for a brutal awakening…