Wielding a Mighty Stick

A griffon-like creature sailed through the air, Roze in its sights. It gave off a menacing chirp as it dove straight down for a fierce beak drill.

Trying not to turn away and flee, she grabbed a fistful of rocks and flung them forward. A quick chant of Accelerare shot them forward, pelting the griffon with high-speed projectiles.

However, it merely flinched at the attack, unnerving Roze for a moment before the realization that someone was covering her kicked in.

A crackle sounded and the griffon suddenly screamed, right before it could dive bomb Roze. The bird creature, heavy as an ox, twirled in sporadic arcs before crashing into some bushes.

Gideon appeared beside Roze, cocking his head in wonder if the fowl had been vanquished. Not giving in to chance, she grabbed another set of stones, watching intently as the griffon’s leg scratched at the ground a few times before its movement died.

Seeing as the coast seemed clear, Gideon walked over and saw how its head had been caved in by his blow. He tapped his sticks together in celebration.

“And the menu for tonight will be barbeque fowl with a dash of herbs!” He held up a sharp knife, hunger in his eyes.

Hunting for their meals would be a regular occurrence on the road. With swift movements, a large chunk of meat had been fileted from the beast. Roze watched as Gideon prepared a bundle of sticks and leaves for a campfire but no flint. Before she could question him, the stick in his hand caught fire, igniting the whole pile.

“Don’t tell me you…”

“Ah, yes. I cheated,” Gideon said with a grin. “I could never be a proper boy scout as I struggled with the technique. But as it turns out, stopping time to spin impossibly fast causes enough friction to combust right away.”

Roze had never thought to use stopped time in such a manner, but then again, her usage of magic had been infrequent. She couldn’t openly practice in town where she needed to hide her lineage. Gideon, on the other hand, could disappear in an instant. As he had demonstrated in town, none of the mercenaries even knew he was there. Rather, they have been taken down by a lone girl. Surely it was something they would keep quiet about.

Gideon happily grilled the meat, humming to himself while Roze pondered more. He hadn’t lied about being a chef either, feeling right at home when it came to meal preparation on the road. All he asked of her were for some edible plants to season the meat, which gave her an excuse to go foraging for her own stocks. She had returned with a basket full, just in time to sprinkle on the finishing touches.

She bit into the slightly gamey meat, the strong flavor contrasted by the sweet and floral taste of marjoram. It was nothing like the cultivated livestock eaten in towns, but it didn’t put a dent on their expenses.

Rather than take the long and windy road to the next town, Gideon opted to cut right through the forests to save time.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Roze knew people built roads the long way for a reason.

After all, they had just been attacked by a wild beast, which Gideon slipped into frozen time to smash it into their dinner entree. He had lost ten minutes on his counter by doing so, but they would have lost most of the afternoon taking detours instead.

Gideon merely smiled at the thought of getting to eat an exotic meat. His face was covered in its juices by the end of the meal, clearly satisfied with his cooking. He wiped his mouth and stared at the campfire, the night starting to bleed into the surroundings except for the fire before them.

“Hey Gideon, why is it that you fight with those sticks? Wouldn’t a real weapon be more effective?”

He fetched them from his belt loops, inspecting for a moment before answering. They were just plain old branches that he had found on the side of the road, hardly durable or worth considering more than a child’s toy.

“Aside from this Time Stop power, I’m nothing more than a normal human, and a pretty weak one at that. It’s what happens when you devote your entire childhood to playing indoors and avoiding most social activities. These arms are used to carrying nothing heavier than a few stacks of paper and a phone.”

Roze recalled the stories of his home world. He had plenty to share. Yet, she couldn’t imagine how such a world worked where humans had the luxury of sitting around for all their tasks. She grabbed Gideon by the hand, pushing and pulling him along in an impromptu contest of strength. He struggled even against the power of a laboring town girl. How pathetic.

“While I could train and become a better fighter in time, I didn’t really see the point. Once the countdown reaches zero, I’d be back at the beginning, weak again. Instead of learning how to use weapons, I realized that I could just start with something I’m familiar at.”

“The profession of a bard percussionist?”

Gideon broke into a laugh at her guess.

“If only it was as you have said, but sadly, I can only call it a hobby.”

Gideon found that hitting things lowered his stress levels considerably. Fortunately, the arcade in the local shopping mall provided a healthier outlet in the past. The feel of pounding a giant drum to the tune of familiar melodies became a frequent pastime whenever he struggled with exams or had a particularly harsh day.

One of the saddest days came when that particular arcade shut down shortly after he graduated from high school and entered the work force, as if symbolically closing the chapter on his childhood.

Still, he never forgot the feeling and desire. Even in another world, picking up something as simple as a pair of kindling on the side of the road made more sense to him than grabbing an unwieldy weapon that he had no experience with.

That was all too clear the first time he swung around a cheap blade, pretending to be an adventurer. Each swing made his muscles groan from its weight, but the monster he had chosen to fight stood still for him to try as many times as he liked.

In a way, it seemed neat to deliver his attacks in a single instant, but when he restored time to normal, the resulting effect was plastered in his mind.

All of those cuts were compounded in an infinitely short amount of time. The resulting force in all directions was like tearing the beast apart with an explosion. Absolute overkill.

Gideon got a face full of blood and guts, a nasty surprise he should have seen coming. After that, he swore to go with something far less messy and more comfortable as a weapon.

Swords and magic were a foreign concept to him. They were a fantasy for a person born on Earth. He thought it was better to leave such things to the adept. Particularly with the strange power of Time Stop, it was a dangerous tactic, and perhaps, maybe a last resort.

But a pair of sticks – he knew just how hard to go and how many repetitions he needed to scale the strength of his blows. And better yet, he could scale it based on different verses of popular songs he knew, which formed a natural metronome in his head.

Roze gave him an upturned brow as Gideon once again looked like he was reminiscing. He seemed to do that a lot. Maybe, music was his source of comfort for grounding himself in unfamiliar territory.

She had fallen into interest of herbology for a similar reason, her gaze often turning at the sight of promising new colors and shapes. She could spend hours looking through texts to compare the flora in her hand to those on paper. Even far from home and with different goals, her habit of foraging through nature didn’t stop. She had even spent her free time at night creating healing salves. They had gone completely unused, much to her annoyance.

“How about you play me a song, Gideon?”

The imaginary drumming in the air stopped, and he looked at her. He had the face of a child waiting to show her the neat picture he had drawn. With a nod and a deep breath, Gideon tapped his sticks together and strummed a peppy beat, closing his eyes to focus on the rhythm.

It was not at all unpleasant. Maybe, even a bit of an earworm.

But then, he opened his mouth, and Roze instantly regretted it. It took all of two verses for her to surrender. The full volume belting of a total sound-deaf amateur after too many drinks at the bar assaulted her ears.

Plugging them, she yelled out “Tardus!” but that hardly helped. Now, Gideon was just singing in slow motion with a deep voice, barely noticing the change with his eyes closed. The distortion of his voice was almost comical if it hadn’t been also ear-grating at the same time.

With no other choice, Roze reached over to the campfire and plucked a hot skewer of meat, shoving it into his mouth. The heat immediately had Gideon reeling from pain, but it finally broke his concentration.

“I am sorry that I could even consider it a profession! Please keep disasters like that in your own world!”

Even in agony, Gideon had to smile. It didn’t seem like Roze’s sensibilities changed, no matter how many times he met her. No matter how angry she became at him, there was still life in her eyes, much more than the other times he found her.

He had made the right choice to arrive early this time.