Chapter 18:

  Status: Tier 3: The Lesser Hall

  Weapon proficiencies

  Sword: F-4

  Spear: F-2

  Striking: F-7

  Halberd: D-1

  Dagger: F-8

  Grappling: F-6

  Stats

  Strength: 23

  Speed: 31

  Constitution: 12

  Blessing: Loki's Eye.

  Class: N/A

  Strength: +0

  Speed: +0

  Constitution: +0

  Question Everything

  Additional effects: ???

  I stared at my stats in astonishment. I didn't even know where to start. "Halberd: D-1" obviously stood out. That was important. But it wasn't the most surprising change. That was the least impressive bit in many ways, as Loki had promised it.

  My speed was now an astonishing 31. That was an increase of 20 full points! 20! At 11, I was one point above the average adult, and now I was three times the average. It was probably faster than most Olympic sprinters. My constitution was now barely above average, but it was way better than the frail, weakling I had been. The improvement was in line with my strength attribute as well, which had also doubled. I was blown away by the raw power increase my body had undergone. Still, my eyes kept looking back at my proficiencies.

  My sword and spear were now my lowest; previously, they had been my highest stats. My striking proficiency had seen a notable improvement. Also, my grappling was rather high, and I didn't even have grappling the last time I checked! My dagger was also up to F-8.

  These were all amazing. High F was as high as most people had ever seen in Lesser Hall. They simply overmatched their opponents with slightly higher proficiencies to move on with higher stats. It was the rare prodigy that got their proficiency into the D's here. But there also had to be some reason they hadn't moved on earlier. Usually low stats, I suspected. Or maybe no killer instinct.

  But now, I'd put my stats up against almost anyone's. I would be surprised if even Bjorn had much better stats. Though he probably had a better constitution, I still didn't think he was as fast as I was now. And I had the skill to back it up. It was like I was a completely different person.

  But there was one other thing about my status that caught my eye. Underneath the blessing section, I had "Question Everything." Was that an ability? An effect? I didn't know as there was no further explanation, no matter how much I tried poking and prodding it.

  The phrase seemed to encapsulate my ability to figure out the weird things in Valhalla and see if I could game the system. I'd been doing it for a little bit before the blessing, but ever since then, nothing quite made as much sense. It might've been a bit of a stretch, but I would've said questioning everything might even help me learn faster. That would explain the increased proficiencies and stats recently, past my intensive training. But I wasn't sure. If that was the case, then Loki's blessing would be far more valuable than the other gods'. Based on the dilapidated condition of the door I chose, I knew that it wasn't exactly a common choice. Either way, I couldn't help but be thoroughly pleased.

  Right as I closed my stats, I looked out and saw my friends heading out of the training hall. I waved to them and jogged over. The now much-reduced group waited in line for the weapons rack to grab halberds that would fit us.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Hey, you're up early," Mark said.

  I shrugged, remembering that it had only been a day for them, not a month. "Yeah, I felt a little bit restless and wanted to get some movement in."

  "Don't blame you. You ready to teach us all your tricks?"

  I laughed. "Well, I have been brushing up a little bit, so I might be able to teach you a few things. Some basics, probably."

  Hopefully, they took it as a joke. They had spent a couple days practicing with me and knew my skill level. But their looks didn't seem like they were kidding around. Maybe it was me making it to the final round last night, but they seemed to honestly think I would help them. If I were in their shoes, I would have suspected that I was just lying about my placement. But then again, I hadn't caught anyone not associated with Loki in a lie here so far.

  We got to the front, and I picked out a halberd. I normally went for the lightest one, but this time, I picked up one of the more balanced polearms and was surprised at how it felt. It didn't feel like I was holding anything more than a simple stick of wood. Passing it from hand to hand, I marveled at how easy it was to catch and move. Was it because of my increased stats and familiarity with the weapon? My friends didn't seem to notice my increased fluidity, but I certainly did.

  As I swung it over my shoulder and headed over to a nearby training ring I had a spring in my step. I knew how they fought. I had practiced with them all several times. However, I hadn't been watching with my new skills, so I had them do a couple quick rounds while I watched. After they were done, I had them gather so I could show them something.

  "All right, let's go through some basics," I said. "I think the first is a thrust." I demonstrated.

  I waited for their responses.

  They listened to me with bemused smiles as they mimicked me. They thought they knew how to thrust, and I was just joking with them. I, too, had thought I knew how to thrust. But I had been very wrong. This might be a long day if I wanted to get their thrusts perfect.

  "In combat, any kind of thrust can be effective in the right circumstances. Rarely do you have the time or footing to have perfect form and technique. But if you know how to do it perfectly inside and out, even your bad thrusts will be better. They will be quicker, harder to knock aside, easier to recover from, and penetrate deeper." The other three seemed to be listening to me, so I continued. "We have a long way to go. Again, and watch my toes."

  ***

  By the time I was done with them, they had a few moves down much better. Nothing was perfect, but getting most of the benefits with much less effort was practically my motto. We got them pretty close to proficient, and I think they actually understood why they were better. I had wanted to do more than thrusts and a couple simple slashes, but it was as much as I could do for them. Time was up, and we entered the challenge.

  This time, I didn't even bother touching the dagger tucked behind me as I materialized in the area. I spun my halberd in a practiced motion, loosening up my muscles and getting ready for the first challenge.

  A shivering wreck appeared in front of me, and I felt bad as I cut him down. It was one of the worst of those left in the cold. The gods didn't favor this one. The ones working to get out would fight each other, but the worst were sacrificed to the best of the Lesser Hall—of which I was now one.

  The next fight wasn't much more of a challenge. A simple feint and cut brought me to the third fight. That was the first time I had a blow blocked.

  Well, blocked was the wrong word. A blow slowed down by my opponent's weapon was a better description. My opponent's haft caught mine right under the blade, but my newfound strength pushed through with little effort. There was still enough force behind my blow that it managed to split his skull with ease.

  The man didn't look very impressive physically, so I wasn't too surprised. But I did flex my bicep as I transitioned to the next arena in the melee, and I was surprised by the amount of definition I had. I wasn't a hulking monster like Bjorn was, but it looked like I had some pretty defined muscle and a very low body fat percentage. I resisted the urge to pull up my shirt and check to see if I had visible abs. It was always a dream of mine, but something I'd never quite gotten around to. My love of fine food always got in the way.

  When the melee started, I wasn't sure how to play it. Did I hold back and use my usual strategy or be aggressive? The other four opponents appeared, and I was surprised that each one of them hesitated. Was this the whole seeding thing that I never quite figured out because I was so much more favored? Having gotten to the 12th round last time, I was faced against easier opponents.

  Something like that made me wonder how I ever managed to get past the melee round in the first place. I guess trickery should never be underestimated. I supposed that there were a lot more people in the lower ranks, as after twelve rounds, only one out of more than four thousand got through. With the melee round, maybe even less than that.

  We all waited for half a second, but I made the first move, charging to the nearest person on my right. A few quick motions, and I was moving on to the next. The man behind me was left with no legs and only half an attached head. Before the other people had even engaged each other, I was already taking down my second opponent, breezing through with not even a hint of resistance.

  I continued in a circle, barely slowed by my third dropped opponent, and ran into my fourth one right as he had been about to engage. I could see in his eyes that he knew he wasn't getting any further. As I battered him around with the haft of my weapon a couple of times, the fight in his eyes went out, and I didn't even have to do anything fancy to finish him off.

  It wasn't until the eighth round that I even met resistance. A quick flurry of exchange blows, blocked and dodged by someone who was quite skillful and quick, started to test me. But eventually, they slipped up. Their foot turned on a thrust, and I used their moment of weakness to unbalance them and throw them to the ground. I dropped a knee on them, forcing the air out of their lungs and allowing me to finish the fight with ease.

  Then, before I knew it, the number twelve floated above me again. As the arena materialized, I realized that my opponent was once again someone familiar. Someone wearing silks and a face that I just couldn't help but want to sink my fist into.

  With a smile, I twisted my halberd and sneered with uncharacteristic vitriol. I was going to enjoy this.