Muddy Waters
My first idea is to ask Ron for help, but I've relied on him too much, I need to be able to solve things on my own. I brainstorm, thinking about any places where hunters can train without concern. Of course, the association has places, but outside of the initial course, you need to rent them out. Guilds have training grounds too, but that's not a possibility either. 'What about Sam? No, if he is using the group finder program, he shouldn't be part of a guild.' After some more thinking, I come up with a decent idea.
Leaving the apartment, I take the bus to the old industrial part of the city. Once I arrive, I walk towards the abandoned warehouse my friends and I used to hang out in. We never really looked into why the warehouse was left unused, but for some kids that wanted a cool place to hang out, details like that didn't matter. Miraculously, the place is still abandoned, it should be okay for me to practice in here.
Moving around some of the crates, I pile them up in the center, to use them as a target. I step away from the crates a bit and prepare to launch a water slash. 'What went wrong with the first one? It didn't really have an attribute; how do you apply an attribute to mana? Doesn't it just happen on its own?' With this line of thought, I question the source of an attribute in a hunter's mana. 'It can't be personality; the king wouldn't have an affinity to water if that was the case. Water is supposed to be calm right?'
I look back on the king's slash and can't help but think of it like a waterfall. 'Can waterfalls be considered calm? The slash the king performed was full of chaos and violence. Can I emulate such things? Do I even need to?' Instead of creating a slash equal to the king's, I try to create my own. Focusing inwards, a small pond appears in my mind, the surface sways with the wind in a calm, rhythmic manner. The pond is muddy, filled with debris and muck. 'Why does it look so filthy?' Ignoring the dirty aspects, I project the image of the pond into my spear and slash sideways.
CRASH!
Instantly, the crate at the edge of the pile has its front face shattered. There isn't a lot of damage, the rest of the crates are perfectly fine and even the one that was hit is still holding up. Regardless, it was a success, all of the crates are soaking with water. Unlike the king's, my slash wasn't just fast, it was instant. My mind throbs and I grow dizzy, forcing me to take a knee. 'I used too much mana. The slash is horribly inefficient, but that should be because of my lack of proficiency. If I keep practicing, it should get stronger and cheaper.' A new goal is set, to destroy all the crates with a single slash. With that goal in mind, I use enhanced absorption to recover my mana and continue to practice.
The rest of the day goes without much improvement, at least I can use it consistently. I decide to call it a day and head back home, I'm too tired and it is getting late. Even if my mana is recovered, the extreme focus drains me mentally. Tom and I talk about what's going to happen now that I'm officially a hunter, despite the previous celebration, he doesn't look so excited now.
"Don't worry so much, I'll be careful," I tell Tom. "Not only that, now that I can defend myself, it is technically safer than when I was a porter."
"I know, I know, shut up," he says, still looking upset.
The day ends and I head to bed, this time, there are no dreams. After waking up, I check the group chat to see if Sam found the last member, but to no avail. There isn't much for me to do while we wait for another member, so I go back to the warehouse to continue practicing my water slash. The speed at which I can use it has improved slightly, but I can't seem to improve the power. 'Why is it that? Even if I use more mana than I'm comfortable with spending, the power remains the same.'
Unable to find an answer, all I can do is keep practicing. A couple hours into my training, my phone vibrates, a message from the group chat. I unlock my phone and look at what they're talking about. Apparently, Sam found a decent candidate, with one exception, he has a record. His profile states that he was part of a raid that ended with him as the only survivor. Investigating events inside of dungeons is hard enough, let alone when the dungeon was cleared, which just so happens to be the case.
Whenever a single person survives a raid that was successful, they are immediately suspect. It isn't hard to imagine what one could do to be the lone survivor. Sabotage the boss fight, hold back during a fight, and then jump the group when they are tired, etc. In cases where solid proof of a crime isn't found, a record is placed on the hunter's profile as a warning to others. The fact that he was involved in an incident like this, doesn't make him immediately guilty, but it sure makes it harder to trust them with your life.
[We've been looking for new members for too long, I believe none of us have the luxury to sit idly like this. – Sam]
[A newbie and a murderer, great… - Chris]
[Don't be like that, you of all people know how desperate we are. - Anna]
I understand their feelings. 'For them to risk their lives in a dungeon for E rank profit, it is clear they are in a similar position to mine.'
[What do you say Will? – Sam]
[I'm no different, I really need the money. – Will]
After a couple more exchanges, we reluctantly agree to recruit the new hunter, Daniel. We confirm that Daniel accepted our offer and setup a meeting for tomorrow. Now that things are moving forward, I practice my slash with more fervor. 'I can't die in my first dungeon raid; I need get be stronger.' Despite my efforts, I still fail to further improve on the water slash. Frustrated, I call it a day and leave the warehouse, at home I wait for Tom to arrive. When he finally arrives, I tell him the news,
"We've found the last member; we're meeting tomorrow to talk about the dungeon Sam chose." Tom simply nods at my words and enters his room, shutting the door.
At night, another dream begins, this time I'm in a cell. The space is small, it is difficult to see anything else since there is no light at all. The walls are made of stone, one of them has a wooden door with a barred window on it. There is absolute silence, only the faint sound of breathing can be heard. 'Are these still the king's memories?' Footsteps resonate from outside the cell, when they get to mine, they stop.
"Hey kid! Wake up!" yells the owner of the footsteps.
The door opens, and a rugged man walks in, filthy too. My vision shifts as the king stands up, but something is off. 'Since when was King Zaun so short? No, the man called him a kid, are these his childhood memories?'
"Come on brat! The clients are waiting." Says the man.
He grabs my shoulders and forces me out of the cell. Now that I'm outside, I can see the surroundings clearly. A large corridor contains more than a dozen doors like the one on my cell. I don't know if they all have people inside, but I did see a couple of people peek through the bars. The man continues to shove me forward, until we reach some stairs. Zaun refuses to climb the stairs, causing the man to slap him across the face.
"Didn't I fucking tell you? Important people are waiting!" he yells, spit flying all over.
Zaun is shaking now, and I know why. 'Fear. The person who cut down thousands of elves is shaking in fear at the hands of a single man.' At the top of the stairs, the man stops in front of a door and pulls out a handkerchief. He turns around and bends down, meeting my eye level. He then stats to rub my face and neck with the handkerchief.
"You better behave. If you act out, I'll fucking kill you. You understand?" he says in a low voice, almost growling.
The image of the man contorts into a shapeless demon, Zaun's fear spiking. 'What looked like a homeless man to me, looks like a demon in his eyes.' The man opens the door and pushes me through. Inside, a woman sits on a couch, 2 men stand behind her. She is wearing a fancy dress while the men are in light leather armor.
"Madam, this is my finest boy, I make sure to feed him properly, so he doesn't get too skinny," says the man.
"I'll be the judge of his quality," replies the woman.
She stands up and begins to inspect my body. After a couple of seconds, she returns to the couch and says,
"It's okay, I'll give you 3 gold coins."
"Th-three? Isn't that too little madam? How about 3 gold and 5 silvers?" says the man.
"Are you stupid? How could such a mediocre boy be worth so much? 3 gold is already too much, take it or I'll go somewhere else," she says.
"No! 3 gold coins are perfect madam, thank you for your generosity," he says.
The woman signals to one of the men behind her, he pulls out a brown pouch. From it, he retrieves 3 gold coins and tosses them onto the table, one bounces onto the ground. The slaver grabs the 2 coins on the table and begins to look for the one that fell.
"Oh, you mustn't bother yourself with such a task, here let me help you," says the woman. "Boy, fetch the coin."
Despite her words, Zaun stands unmoving. She raises an eyebrow and signals to her guards again. One of them walks towards Zaun and promptly punches him in the gut. My vision drops as Zaun falls onto the ground, he begins to puke, gasping for air in between retches.
"Oh my! You've made a mess boy; I believe a punishment is in order. Get the coin quickly so we can leave and punish you at home," she says.
Zaun searches for the coin, fearing the punishment to come. After finding it, he hands it to the man and stand back up.
"Well then, let's leave, I'm really excited," says the woman.
The dream slowly fades as Zaun enters the woman's dark carriage. When I wake up, the king's fear still resides within me. 'How did he end up in such a situation?' Filled with questions I cannot answer, I stand up and get ready for the meeting.