After collecting Jack's new clothes, the trio made their way into a more spartan-looking shop. Each item was carefully secured under thick glass and chains, with a complicated lock keeping each of them secure. The shopkeeper welcomed them in and spread his arms around the room, drawing our notice to each weapon in their presumed glory, along with the more standard quality ones in racks. Pulling him to the side, Shin brought Jack to the first row of weapons.

  "So, I know the tribes teach children how to use weapons, but they also tend to do it rather randomly, so tell me what you've used and we'll work on it."

  "None."

  "Don't be afraid to tell me, I've had many students, and lived a very long time, I can teach anything you know."

  "No, I mean it literally, I've never used any of these weapons."

  "...You must not have been well-liked by your family."

  He almost corrected the man, but the issue was that Jack was pretty sure some CQC his brother taught him, and his decent gun skills wouldn't translate well to magic swords and spears.

  "Very well, I can work with this. Why not just pick a weapon, and we'll see if it's a good fit."

  Looking over the various weapons, Jack would pick one up and give it a swing or thrust, but none of them felt all that good in his hands. Sure, he did at one point know vaguely how to use a longsword thanks to high school, but that was choreographed stage fighting at best. Still, if he had to make a decision, he'd choose a European design since that was simply more familiar in how it might be used compared to these less familiar designs.

  "Does he have anything different, perhaps a sword or something that, uh, my kind might have made?"

  He told the shopkeeper, who responded after a minute to consider.

  "The man says yes, but that they're mainly made from metals stolen from actual weapons, and that it might be better to melt them for scrap."

  The rat-faced man dragged out a barrel full of assorted weaponry, most in dire need of work, but a few looked decent. Rummaging through them, he almost gave up until he found it. In no way was it special, but the design and refinement were leagues above the others.

  "The man says that he got that from a sage who wiped out a tribe that was stealing grain; he claims that the strange sword was amongst the spoils. I would suggest you pick something else, it is hardly fitting of a sage to use such an unusual design."

  "I think I'll take it."

  Shin shrugged, not really caring one way or the other.

  "Very well, I can teach you what you need to know, but such a weapon is unfortunately outside of my immediate knowledge. Now, were it a proper sword or perhaps a spear or bow, I would have plenty to say, but your choice wouldn't fit the styles I know."

  After paying the man and carrying a leather bag with maintenance supplies, they made several more stops, buying a small number of supplies each time that Shin decided would be useful to have. Seeds, fluid holders, and an assortment of random vials and pills that did this or that, they eventually started heading back to his residence. Looking at his new weapon, a steel longsword, it made him remember back when he was a kid, wanting to be a gallant knight, slaying monsters and commanding armies. He shook his head, part of him still wanted that, and perhaps here he could at least learn to slay monsters, if nothing else. But that wasn't the only thing, deep down, a part of him still remembered what it felt like when he held the technique of Saint George, perhaps it even changed him since holding this just felt right.

  Passing through the gate, they saw a small commotion as a man from whom he could feel a slight amount of spirit was sent flying out of the ring. Walking through the crowd, he saw that the girl from earlier was destroying a small gang of guys, most of them beaten badly on the ground, curled into themselves. The girl turned around, slightly winded, and saw him. Instantly, she went red as she was holding one guy by the throat and stepping on another. Is it weird that I knew a concerning number of people who would pay for that, cause the thought crossed Jack's mind and made him regret having such weird friends back home.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Hm, home... shit now he's depressed.

  Giving her a small wave before turning back into the crowd and back towards his master.

  "Not bad, your posture could use some work, and your attire is lacking, but not a bad first try."

  "What?"

  "Nothing, let's just hurry up and get back."

  They made their way back through the city and up the grand stairs to his residence as the sun began to set.

  "I believe that will be all for today. I'll stop by tomorrow for a few matters, but the remainder of the day is yours."

  "What about the training you promised?"

  "I intend on accompanying you for about half the trip; afterwards, it will be up to you to keep up your lessons until you reach the sect, they will continue with what I have given you."

  Both Shin and the guard left the room, leaving Jack alone with the bags packed with unknown goods. Not with anything to do, he pulled out the other two scrolls and opened each. The Sky Dragon Arts was much like the fortress in that it was an incomprehensible mess of moving letters and symbols, just that this time it was in English lettering. Injecting his spirit, he could feel the knowledge imprinting itself into his brain, detailing the life of a dragon. How to be a dragon, how to live like a dragon, how to fly like one, how to kill like one, and most of all, the glory that is their kind. It was as much a text on how to wield their power as it was an altar to their greatness. To follow this technique to its finish would have him proclaim to the world his right over it, a bold and dangerous idea.

  It would certainly fit the criteria of power beyond his imagination; the only issue was that he could feel what he would become, and he wasn't sure he wanted that. Oh sure, the power would likely make up for it, especially if he got more dragon techniques, but if he took this path, he didn't know if he could turn back, how much of him would remain, and how much would the dragon replace? He didn't know, and as hopeful as he was to never find out, he knew that was unlikely.

  Setting it down, he picked up the other, the one of the saint. Justice, duty, and faith flowed into him as he applied spirit to the scroll, seeing forms and movements, the right way to kill non-humans, and the ultimate justification for doing so. Setting it down, he felt similarly with it; the fortress technique was just knowledge, a methodology of using his internal energy to achieve a measurable result, but these two were more than that. Both offered great power and skill, but both demanded he accept their mindset, either unparalleled power and arrogance, or a bottomless sense of duty to exterminate the unknown, and all that may change things, including the new and exciting. Holding each in one hand, Jack knew he couldn't cultivate without risking becoming too familiar and connected to this world and its ways of thinking, but why couldn't he have both the dragon and the saint's power? Holding both, he injected his power one last time before bed to see if he could compare them.\

  Instead, he felt his mind tear in two, the energies within both scrolls rejecting each other as the two battled for dominance in his mind. It felt like every neuron in his brain was being deep-fried in tar, lit on fire. Clutching his head, he felt the clash of ideals and origins, western knighthood swinging a silver sword to slay the mythical, and unparalleled magical mastery and power being brought to bear.

  Slay thee, says the man atop a white horse, sword drawn in one hand, lance in the other.

  Devour this one, says the divine lightning, fangs and claws ready to strike.

  Desperate to make the pain stop, Jack began circulating his spirit to wrestle the two warring impressions within his mind, attempting to crush them with his power. But the only thing that resulted was his energy being stolen and an ice pick to his brain. His energy was taken by the impressions to fuel themselves in their duel. Low on spirit, Jack ripped the top off a pill bottle and choked down a handful of pills as he once again tried to control them. Only this time was different. In that moment when his body was surging with spirit, he saw something forming between them. It was not a thing, in a traditional sense, instead more of the concept of a possibility, one that deeply offended the two techniques. Rather than choosing one or the other, this possibility offered peace between the two.

  It asks, was there not a time when man and beast were as one? Where the dragons of yore let the fur-covered ancestors of man ride atop their forefathers to reach delicious fruit? Was there not a time when primeval man became the greatest of the beasts and was gifted the weight of choice and intelligence?

  Yes, says the regretful dragon.

  Once, says the old knight.

  It states that it was not the arrogance of scales nor the forgetting of their duties that made them enemies, but the great lie.

  And as one, they agreed, remembering it is not the beast's fault they live in the dark, nor the fault of man that they should forget their purpose. So together, as Jack fell to the ground, they reconciled, mixing and merging to make something new yet old. Seeing the two scrolls merge into one another, forming a book, yes, an actual book, he read the new title.

  "Scaled Apostate."