Tutorial Day 8

  Claude exited his room in the morning and smiled, clearly pleased with what he saw.

  As for me? Not so much. I had never wanted to punch someone in the face more than I did in that moment. Sure, I’d slept a bit—on and off.

  But for the most part? I struggled against the weight of the armor the man had tied and buckled me into. I heaved. I shoved. I husking likely got what I was convinced was a hernia at some point before Recovery fixed it.

  The only thing I managed to do, other than exhaust myself so much that I passed out, was roll over onto my side. For a brief moment I had celebrated that. Until I realized that even after the ‘accomplishment,’ I couldn’t get up with hundreds of pounds weighing me down.

  Claude didn’t even acknowledge me, as he moved around the Dojo, seeming to check it over for something.

  Does he think I’d managed to steal something in here? I mentally growled. First, if I’d been able to put anything into my Necklace of Holding—it would have been this husking armor!

  Yet, far more importantly, did he think I had stood up, somehow pocketed what sparse nonsense I could see on display then laid back down in the same husking spot!

  “Husking piece of husked dung! Get me the hell out of this armor!” I shouted, my temper eventually overpowering Mental Fortitude, and its inane desire to let Claude speak first.

  “Ahh, I’m afraid not. You haven’t completed your task yet. Look at this dust,” the translator said into my ear as Claude ran a finger over an even worse looking spear that hung on the wall. His finger came away spotless, making my jaw clench.

  At least he hadn’t put on a helmet, so I could lift my head and glare at him.

  “Oh, look at that,” Claude said cheerfully in English. “It’s both breakfast and payment time.”

  I wondered what he meant about the second part until he came over and touched the back of my forearm.

  My mind actually blanked as I read the blue system message. Then like a wildfire well into its burn, rage consumed me. “That’s theft—you Greed Hog, pile of Husker Dung! How is it even letting you get away with this?!”

  I kept swearing and screaming until I realized that Claude hadn’t responded. That got me to stop long enough to look around the part of the room I could see and discovered that my ‘teacher’ was likely not even still in the Pavilion.

  The rage inside of me, now bereft of an outlet, puttered, but then blazed even higher. I planted my arms under me and, uncaring about strain, or pain—shoved.

  Like I was some Super Hunter on Hunter Wars who had been knocked down but wasn’t out. I started to lift off the wooden slatted floor. My arms, stomach, chest, toes, and basically every muscle in my body shook as I fought to right myself.

  ‘Shook’ might have been a bad descriptor for what it felt like. It felt like my body vibrated, as every single muscle contained within my skin strained against the weight. Centimeter by centimeter I rose. Fraction of an inch by inch. Until suddenly the vibration stopped.

  Like I was a hydraulic lift with its air lines cut—my arms collapsed, causing me to hit the floor hard enough that I thought the whole building would shake, or at least that the floor would splinter.

  But all that my eyes and brain registered was just how fast that floor was coming at me. Just how much weight and momentum I was building in my short fall. Just how weak my neck muscles felt.

  My chest hit first, but was protected by the armor. All the momentum on my body was transferred to my neck and I gave the floor a great stress-relieving head-butt.

  Stress-relieving because I was consumed by darkness.

  * * *

  “You’re awake faster than I expected,” Claude’s translated voice said in my ear. “You also discovered your Qi, it seems.”

  I was just blinking my eyes to clear them of the fuzzy, grainy quality—when the translator spoke. Because of its presence, it took me a moment to remember where I was. Then it took another few seconds to realize that my vision was quite literally grainy because I was staring at the Dojo Floor.

  I looked up to find Claude sitting, cross legged right in front of me. He proffered a spoon, which was filled with something that could have been porridge, or pudding. It didn’t look appetizing. Still, the translator from the Tutorial Town took over for Claude as his mouth moved.

  “It’s a full meal replacement. Totally tasteless. You’ll need it after using your Qi as you did.”

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  “I didn’t use y-ci,” I tried to state, my mouth feeling like it was full of sand.

  Closing my mouth, I failed to create any saliva, which was strange. The strange porridge-pudding suddenly looked a lot more appetizing than it had a moment ago.

  My hesitation lasted only a moment before my body’s need outweighed my feelings of anger and embarrassment. I opened my mouth and Claude inserted the spoon. The first ‘bite’ was tough to swallow but wet my tongue enough after sitting on it long enough.

  Once the first bite was traveling down my esophagus, I lost all vestiges of shame. My body truly displayed how much it needed sustenance with a furious roar of hunger from my stomach. Afterward, my embarrassment at being ‘baby-birded’ by Claude only returned when I heard the spoon clatter into an empty bowl.

  As soon as that ‘gong’ sounded, my rage and embarrassment fought to consume me.

  “Get me the hell out of this armor, Claude!” I roared.

  “Hmm—”Claude said, seemingly considering my demand before replying in simple, accented English. “No!”

  “Why the husk not?” I roared again, unable to control my volume with a man who was likely feeding me so he could just continue to steal my Tp. My only hope was to be as loud as possible—perhaps someone outside would hear me.

  Claude bent down and put his face right in front of mine. The translation robot made sense of his words for me. “Room and board here cost extra!”

  He touched my arm again.

  “You husking son of a Witch,” I shouted and began to strain against the armor. Claude stepped back and tilted his head—looking unconcerned as I shook violently against the load.

  My arms began to straighten again, as I performed my impossible push up. I felt as though I’d passed a fulcrum point and some of the strain seemed to lesson, even as I continued to inch up. However, my arms burned—my chest screamed and I knew I wasn’t even halfway up yet.

  The blood in my biceps, and chest reversed or—at least felt like it did, as the Strength I thought I felt abandoned me. Thankfully, this time Claude kicked a cushion under my head just as I hit the ground.

  My face got smothered by the pillow for a terrifying moment, mostly because in my efforts, I desperately needed oxygen. However, I quickly pulled my neck back and heaved in a gasp air, while not forgetting to glare at Claude.

  He had another bowl of porridge-milk in hand.

  My eyes narrowed even as he pulled the pillow out from beneath me which did lessen the strain on my neck. I spat the first spoonful at Claude. He wouldn’t be getting more money from me because I ate his food!

  I’d rather die!

  “You should eat.” Claude smiled broadly as my attempted ‘attack’ fell well short of him. “You only pay Room and Board once a day.”

  The only thought in my head was whether I should trust him. If what he said was true, he was feeding me for a different reason. But what reason could it be?

  A gamble of a hundred Tutorial Points shouldn’t hurt. Skeptical, eyes narrowed and fiercely staring, I opened my mouth.

  Claude fed me and then stepped back with the empty bowl. This time, he didn’t say anything—he just observed.

  Thanks to my suspicion I observed him in return. What was he waiting for? Did he think I was just going to rage out again and try to—

  Was that it? Did he want me to try to push myself? Was this essentially a high-priced personal trainer hellbent on torturing me?

  My Mental Fortitude seemed to be calming me down, finally. I regarded him even as I flexed my muscles a bit. I could feel weakness, soreness and stiffness—all three stages of healing after a lift. So, I was gaining something, but why was he using this method?

  There was a relatively easy answer to that as well. He said, ‘I’d used my Qi.’ I didn’t know how I’d done it, but I presumed that my rage had been something like a trigger. I was still upset, certainly. This husker had me trapped and at his mercy.

  But through the right lens—he was, in fact, training me. Sighing, I grumpily asked, “How do I gain consistent access to my Qi?”

  Claude’s smile was very bright a few moments after I spoke, letting me know translation had probably taken over. Looking down at me, he tapped a spot on his chest—no lower than his chest. His abdomen?

  “Rage, fright, courage—they come from here.” the translator intoned. “A gut reaction as you Americans say—”

  “I’m Canadian,” I interjected.

  “Oh, sooorry,” Claude responded sarcastically in English. “Now shut up.” He spoke once more in English before switching back to French. “These emotions are the easiest to tie to your Qi. When you are scared, you might run very fast, or fight very hard, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “When you’re angry you might attack with added strength. If you have courage you might do what you had never imagined. This is Qi.” He tapped just below his sternum again.

  That wasn’t exactly a good description—and for once, I wished for Smegma and his garden analogies. Maybe a hose with holes? I shook my head, which was still the only part of my body I could move. That still left a large problem. What if I had been E-rank in my Strength and other Stats upon entering?

  “How come I can’t just use my Strength Stat to lift more?” I asked, slowly trying to feel out what I wanted to ask as I did it.

  “Strength Stat has to have the power come from somewhere, no? One of two ways to utilize this. Fuel it with Qi—or work the muscles. Did you think the System just made you ‘stronger’ when you gained the Stats?”

  “Ummm—well, I mean Hunters with high Stats are way stronger—”

  “First, Hunters on Earth—know nothing, okay? Second, have you seen how hard someone like King Anubis or Gamonji trained?”

  At his words, the documentary I’d watched with Dave came to mind. Holy crap! I’d always thought they were working out to gain Stats or be a fraction of a second faster.

  Claude saw my realization and course-corrected me slightly. “The Stats give you a threshold. So that if you train them, you can utilize that Stat without Qi—or, at least, with very little Qi.”

  The puzzle pieces started to come together in my mind. I used my head to motion at my current situation as best I could.

  “So, that’s what all this is?”

  Claude smiled and gave me two thumbs up.

  “Husking Shatter shit,” I cursed. “Just like him, you’re a giant rat,” I insulted but didn’t actually mean it. Sighing, I grit my teeth.

  Well, you better wax on, you mother husker, or become a failed Turtle Ninja for the rest of your life… I thought, grimly.