NOVEL NEXT B2 – Lesson 40: “Real (Wo)Men Speak With Their Fists!”
Boarslayer ducked out of the way at the last second as Bert's right hook soared over her head. As she did, she planted several sharp jabs into Bert's ribs, to little effect. If anything, she did more damage to her own hands than the man, like punching a brick wall.
Although the man's massive fist seemed slow in her eyes, it radiated a sense of overwhelming danger. The next instant, one of the massive trees several meters behind her shook. A long, smooth groove was carved out of its trunk like some giant spoon had scooped a piece out.
Boarslayer stared at the wound in the tree with wide eyes. That was dangerous. If she'd actually been hit by that…
In that moment, Boarslayer felt something she'd never felt before in her life.
Pure awe at the sheer strength of another person.
She also learned another important lesson; taking her eyes off Bert had been a mistake.
Crack!
Boarslayer's head snapped back as Bert's knee shot up, catching her square on the jaw. More than that, the force of the blow was enough to send the 300lb of pure muscle that was Boarslayer into the air several feet.
Yet, for as powerful as Bert seemed, Boarslayer was talented in her own right. Despite the ringing sounds between her skull and the white light enveloping her sight, her battle instincts screamed for her to move. With a monumental force of effort, Boarslayer twisted in the air and caught Bert's follow-up punch with her arm instead of her gut.
Even then, the strike was enough to send Boarslayer spinning through the air for several meters before finally slamming into the same tree Bert had previously taken a chuck out of.
Boarslayer fell several meters to the ground with a thump and rolled to her back, panting heavily. After a moment, she rolled over to her knees and struggled to push herself up, spitting out a mouth full of blood.
Bert stood a ways away, his arms folded.
"You've got good instincts, lass," he said, grinning like a madman. "But you rely on them too much. You let your talent do the heavy lifting your brain should be doing."
Boarslayer snarled and charged Bert. The large man nimbly dodged the woman's charge and kicked her feet from under her as she passed.
"It's not totally your fault, of course," he continued. "That's not too uncommon for our kind."
As Boarslayer fell, she twisted, turning the fall into a sweeping hook kick aimed at Bert's blind spot. Without even looking, Bert shuffled to the side and caught Boarslayer's kick in the crook of his folded arms. Then, with a heave, he flipped the woman so that she spun in place several times before slamming hard on the ground at his feet.
"That's not always a bad thing, per se," the man said as he knelt beside the struggling woman, "but it makes you predictable. Reactionary. That's the Titan blood in you."
As if to prove his point, he leaned back slightly, just in time to avoid a backfist from Boarslayer. Bert grinned further and stood, his hand tucked into the side of his light cloth pants.
"I promised you a story, didn't I? Well then, Lassy, listen and listen well." He hooked Boarslayer with his foot as he spoke and tossed her into the air. She flew several meters, but there had been no actual force or intent behind Bert's action, and Boarslayer managed to land on her feet — if a tad shakily.
Bert began slowly circling Boarslayer, his stance loose and unworried, though his sharp eyes never once left her.
"Long ago — before the Prima, before this world was formed, before even the Grand Firmament had been established — there existed a People."
Boarslayer spat a glob of blood into the grass and narrowed her eyes. Bert's posture seemed relaxed, but the more she looked, the fewer openings she could see. As she circled him in the opposite direction, she began to think that even those were purposeful. Traps to lure her in.
"Little remains of that time. What were they? Where did they come from? What did they look like? Why did they do what they did? None alive can say."
A bird call cut through the night air, and Bert's eye twitched. Boarslayer took the distraction and lept at the man, keeping the firelight behind her. Bert chuckled, and he took a step back.
Boarslayer adjusted, but suddenly found her next step a little too deep. Her eyes widened as she realized she had stepped into a small crater in the soft ground — hidden by the grass and shadows — that had formed when Bert had thrown her to the ground previously.
Before she could recover, Bert's fist slammed into her gut, knocking the wind out of her. Boarslayer doubled over, gasping for breath.
"What we do know is that the People were violent and warlike. Even by the standards of that time. They traveled from world to world, spreading destruction wherever they went."
Bert pulled Boarslayer up by the hem of her shirt and dusted the woman off. Boarslayer smacked the man's hand away and lept back away from him several steps. Bert just chuckled to himself.
"They cared not for the worlds they conquered, however. They warred not for resources or for some arbitrary morality. The People cared little if those they fought were saints or demons. Beast or sapient."
Boarslayer crouched, her hands spread wide. Bert was reading her like a book, and she knew it. It infuriated her she was being toyed with so easily. That the man insisted on telling his story while they fought only further stoked those flames.
"No, not even for glory or power or honor did they shed endless seas of blood and turned vibrant worlds into ravaged wastes. The only reason the People fought… was for the fight. An entire race, reveling in nothing less than pure battle lust. War for the sake of war. In time, their shadow stretched so far and wide over creation that the People came to be known by another name."
Bert spread his arms wide, dropping all pretenses of defense as his face took on a far more serious look.
"Titans."
As Bert spoke the name, the world itself seemed to react. Space throbbed with something Boarslayer couldn't define but that her heart beat in sync with.
Whatever it was, Boarslayer didn't like it.
It felt like a clawing hand on the edge of her existence, trying to worm its way into her very being. Screw that! Boarslayer was Boarslayer! She didn't need some existential dread telling her who — or what — she was! Instead, she reacted in the way she knew best.
Violence.
Boarslayer metaphorically punched the odd, clawing hand in the back of her mind in its stupid face. How the figurative representation of a hand had a face, Boarslayer didn't stop to consider, or even really cared about.
"Shut up and fight me!" Boarslayer said, kicking off with her feet. At that moment, something clicked in place for Boarslayer. Her charge became less a charge and more of a flying leap as a massive gust of wind manifested behind her, propelling her forward at high speed.
Bert's eyes widened, and for the first time since the fight started, he raised his arms to do something other than strike. In an instant, he'd locked hands with the large goblin. The force of her charge drove him back several meters and even dug deep grooves into the ground.
When they finally stopped sliding, the pair struggled against each other, their feet braced against the ground, and their hands locked together. Both muscles and meridians strained as both parties sought to overpower the other. The clash of their auras was so strong that even the Spirit Energy in the area reacted, flashing and sparking between them.
Boarslayer snarled at the man, her eyes bloodshot, and her fangs bared as veins pulsed along her neck.
Bert, in contrast, grinned wider, as if he was having the time of his life.
"Yet that nature proved to be their downfall, in the end. Be it through neglect, pride, a desire for stronger opponents, or ever simple boredom, the worlds ravaged by the Titans were never truly destroyed."
Bert's spiritual signature suddenly exploded, magnified a dozen times as it towered over Boarslayer. Its force was so overwhelming that all across the camp, every eye suddenly turned to the sparring pair. Even the forest itself went deadly silent, as if some massive beast had wandered through.
Bert roared. Then, as easily as an adult lifted a child, he raised Boarslayer into the air.
Boarslayer's eyes widened, and she tried to release her grip, only to find she couldn't. Bert's own grip on her hands was as firm and unmoving as a mountain.
Boarslayer got one last look at Bert's cheesy grin… before he slammed her into the ground.
BOOOOOOOM!
The force of the impact threw up a massive cloud of dirt and dust that obscured the two. When the rain of debris faded, Bert stood looking down at Boarslayer from the edge of a newly formed crater.
Boarslayer moaned. Everything hurt, and she could barely twitch a finger. That last toss hadn't just been a toss. Bert had infused something else into it. Something… heavy. For the briefest moment, Boarslayer had felt like the entire weight of the world had pressed down on her.
And it scared her.
She didn't have the slightest doubt that had Bert not simply 'flickered' whatever it was he had done — giving her just the tiniest taste — she would have been utterly crushed beneath that weight.
Instead, she was just mostly crushed…
Bert stood at the rim of the crater and smiled down at her.
"On every world that the Titans touched, some survived. Some overcame. Some… changed. And through the eons — fueled by anger, hatred, and a thirst for vengeance — these 'Titan-Touched' grew in both power and number. Until even the Titans fell to those whom their cruelty created."
Bert flicked his hand, and a green talisman appeared. He infused it with Spirit Energy and tossed it toward Boarslayer. The talisman never touched her, however. Instead, it halted a few inches from her body and began slowly rotating. As it did, it let out a faint golden light that enveloped Boarslayer.
As the light seeped into her body, the pain began to gradually fade. Boarslayer could even feel the cracks in her bones fuse back together, and the lingering weightiness of whatever Bert had done, faded.
By the time the talisman crumbled to dust a few moments later, Boarslayer could sit up on her own power. She wasn't fully healed — not by a long shot — but the talisman also seemed to have boosted her own natural healing power.
Bert smiled and stretched out his hand toward her. Boarslayer stared at the offered hand for a long moment, looking between it and Bert's stupid face. Finally, she grabbed it with a sneer, and the large man pulled her out of the crater.
"The Titans are long gone," Bert spoke when Boarslayer was standing on her own. "As are the Titan-Touched. But… Echoes — for lack of a better term — remain of that ancient conflict. They reach out through space and time itself, like scars on existence. We call those who 'resonate' with these echoes' Titankin.'"
Bert dropped the cheery grin and looked Boarslayer in the eye. "This power. It's one born to destroy. Its very nature is rage and violence. How we direct that nature determines whether we — as Titankin — reflect more of the Titans, from whom the power derives, or the Titan-Touched destined to destroy them."
Bert sighed and shook his head. "Those who learn to control that nature become the heroes of stories. Mighty men and women who crush the world's evils under an unyielding boot. Those who give into the echoes and revel in the battle lust like the Titans of old…" he shrugged, "Well, men like that, they become the Boscos of the world."