FortuneCraft in Apocalypse

MASTER

 

There was a cracking sound, like metal on stone. Draven’s head and brain were a mess, so he did not immediately process what the noise was. It took several long minutes and the continuation of the noisy metal on stone for him to finally realize that it was actually a sword grinding on a stone. Only a sword could grind and make such a high pitched sound. He wouldn't have continued lying down there if his body hadn’t automatically tensed, ready to spring. In one second, he jerked up from his sleeping position; his action was more instinct than concern. His brain was still fuzzy, but he processed his thoughts as quickly as possible. Draven knew now that this was a virtual video game and it was so very brutal. For all he knew, someone might be sharpening that sword to kill him.

“Welcome, Mr. Draven.”

He jerked around, startled. He hadn’t even processed where the noise had come from, much less behind him. Now he could see that it was his virtual sword trainer, but his brain was still fuzzy with sleep and tiredness.

“What are you doing?” he managed to ask.

“It is time for your training," the Master answered.

Draven realized then that ‘Master’ was an horrible name to call it; he had been in his feelings and emotions when he called him that, but now it seemed like giving too much control to a virtual trainer that wasn’t even real.

“Can we start this later?” he asked, preparing to go back to sleep.

Master fizzled out of his sight. Elated, Draven was just about to turn to his sleeping position when Master reappeared. He groaned; if this thing keeps this up it might just irritate him to death.

“Did you think I was actually leaving?" Master asked.

“Yeah, what a dry joke.”

“Your training begins now, Draven.”

He threw Draven the sword that he’d been sharpening. In reflex, Draven snatched the sword out of thin air. For a moment he was stunned and proud that he’d simply got it out of thin air. It seemed like the skills he had unlocked were finally manifesting themselves in him.

“I took the liberty to find you a better weapon," the Master said. “I sharpened it like a bull’s horn. Now I will teach you how to use it.”

Draven gripped the sword with all his might.

“Don’t hold it like that," the Master admonished. “It’s not that heavy, and if it is you must hold it with your inner strength. Now…”

He came around Draven and tried to release the grip on the sword and the tension around his shoulders.

"Widden your stance,” Master said as he circled Draven. “Not that wide, bring your legs a little… what are you doing? Haven’t you survived just fine before you asked for me?”

Draven shook his head. “I was barely alive. I just passed the level one stage narrowly. Hell, it was such a narrow escape that I was sure I’d be dead by now.”

The master stopped in his tracks. “A good thing you’re not dead then. A bad thing is that you don’t have the proper stance and composure to fight and survive.”

“I have the survival instinct skill though.”

“That will not save you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to harness your skills to be able to fully use them,” he raised his hand a little and motioned to Dr “You have the sword mastery skill yet you do not have the proper stance. You can easily be killed.”

Draven took a deep breath. The word ‘kill’ brought his mind to a standstill. Now he was focused, ready to get to business. What use was it doing all this to enter a game and die when you just narrowly escaped level one?

He expanded his stance just a little, following the Master's instructions. He gotta learn how to survive, and fast. Master moved just a bit to get his own sword, then made a little sword dance with it.

“Can you do that?” He asked Draven.

“I can try.”

“Then try it."

Draven squared his shoulders and released the tension there. By exhaling deeply, he reduced the energy he was using to hold the sword and held it lightly, like he was dancing. Then he followed the master’s steps and executed them perfectly.

"Good," the Master said. “You are ready.”

The words hadn’t even fully registered in Draven’s ears when Master charged towards him. He brought up his sword to defend himself, holding it high, and then to the side when Master swerved right. They had a small spar, and within seconds Draven was panting from the exhausted energy he’d used. 

“You need to utilize your strength," the Master said, stopping. “You have all that skill and nothing to show for it.”

“In my defense, they’re just three. Can I have a break?

“No, you may not. Let us begin again.”

“But I don’t know how to."

“Watch me.”

The virtual trainer inched backwards, putting some distance between him and Draven. When he raised his sword, Draven controlled his pants and raised his too. He mimicked Master’s movements and arched his back, fighting with more pronounced energy this time.

“Attack here,” Master said amidst the fight, not breaking a stride. “Hit here, and here is an open attack zone.” He hit Draven with the edge of his sword, making a point.

Draven stepped back, a hand to his side. He controlled his pants to an even breathing, not willing to back down now that he was in the spirit. After another hour of sparing, Master stepped back and let the sword disappear from his hand.

“Good. If we tried this for two more days, you would be at least above average.”

Breathing loudly, Draven dumped his own sword on the ground. “You’re only teaching me for two days?”

“No. I will only be here for two days, after which you will get on with your normal activities.”

“But—”

The sword appeared in the Master’s hand again. “You ask too much questions. Let’s go again.”