Chapter 17 - One Week to Lillinberg (Night 2)

Camp that night was much like the night before. Quiet and uneventful. Sol played with his magic, Luna read her books and Clint observed. Tonight he observed the stars, what he could see of them, at least. He had never noticed before how they differed from those of his world, not just in shape and placement, but in size. The stars over Gallia were bigger and bolder, like something out of an illustration more than real life, shining with a brilliance that suited the magical land.

Just as the night before, right when the others were about ready to sleep, Luna closed her book and announced her exit. Today’s excuse was different, she claimed she had to “go cast Detect Magic”, as if that wasn’t something she openly did earlier. Sol paid no mind to this, trying to force himself to sleep through his hunger pangs. Clint too, said nothing.

Silently though, he followed her, through the woods and to the riverside. He was slow and methodical, allowing her a head start and taking his time to find a good perch. By the time he regained sight of her, she was well into her nighttime activities.

She battled the air, as if fighting ghosts, open palm strikes making invisible contact before pulling fiercely back. Her strength wasn’t particularly impressive, but her movements were, each one flowing smoothly into the other like a waterfall giving way to a river, giving way to the ocean.

The ocean in this case was her stance, just as tranquil and calm from a distance, but with unbelievable depth and capacity for danger. She’d stand there, legs wide, arms raised, breath steady, you’d think she was going to relax, you’d think she was calm. That’s when she would strike, bursting into well-choreographed movements that crashed like waves against the air.

Her eyes were closed, but it was clear she saw something, something totally fabricated from her imagination or recalled from her memory. Whichever it was, that was what she was fighting. She transitioned to a focus on evasion, ducking, rolling, side-stepping. Her movements were reminiscent of Clint’s own in some ways but steadier and slower.

Every now and then she’d stop and sigh, muttering something along the lines of “Nope. Dead again.” to herself, before repeating the movement. This could happen tens of times, but she always saw it through, eventually conquering whatever phantom she was fighting.

Her training continued well into the night, leaving her panting and coated in a layer of sweat. She fell to her knees. Whatever this last fight was, it was a tough one, she had failed it 30 something times already. Clint wondered when she’d give it up.

He had mostly figured it out by now. This drill was against multiple enemies, a staggered assault from all sides. One hit would lead to another and she’d be buried under the weight of attacks, meaning it had to be perfect. She had disabled the use of an arm for this drill too, it held on to something imaginary, which seemed to be the target of the assault. If he was right about her envisioning prior experiences, there was only one thing it could be.

She was reliving her fight against the Slime Queen.

With a deep breath, she began again, eyes closing to the world but opening her mind to a memory. She began muttering the Munditia incantation, just as she had then. The first slimes began raining down from her left, two small individuals. She tucked her staff behind her back, causing them to fly harmlessly past their objective.

Above, two more dropped, merging as they did, their momentum suddenly increasing drastically as a result of their combined mass. She had failed here thirteen times but by now she had the timing. She stepped back, but not too far back, as a slime from her right was launching itself toward her staff. It just barely missed.

The staff being tucked into her back had one key advantage. It centred the attacks naturally around her, making her entire body a focal point, rather than the disconnected staff. It meant she didn’t have to focus on moving her arm separate from the rest of her, she could be as one in her evasive manoeuvres.

Her other arm served as a fly-swatter of sorts, striking down any slimes that came from awkward angles she couldn’t dodge through movement alone. There was a particularly nasty instance where two slimes struck from either side at the same time, one high, one low. That got her a few times. She had figured it out now, however: A quick crouch for the high and a jab at the low left her free to roll the follow-up bombardment, easily dismantling their assault.

It was just the finale now, ten or so slimes had merged into a fastball projectile. This was the damning blow in her first encounter, the one that led the charge and completed the capture of her staff. In this scenario, it was a more direct threat, coming straight at her back from her blind spot. By now, she had of course learned to jump over it, but that alone wasn’t enough. Its superior speed served as the opening salvo for several slower, floatier slimes that came from above in a ring, capturing her no matter which direction she leapt. Her only hope was to strike them all down mid-air. She had gotten close a few times, but she often fell flat, leaving herself vulnerable to a follow-up from the original large slime.

It was quite likely the manoeuvre was entirely impossible, but she’d be damned if she let that stop her now.

The fastball came and she leapt. She didn’t make a sound as she did, such control in her leg and foot muscles that she only ascended the precise 6 feet she was aiming for, already an impressive feat in the eyes of the observing Clint, but nothing for Luna. The ring of slimes were descending now, dropping like gooey hail toward her. If she had calculated correctly, she’d have just enough time… Her palm struck one, then the edge of her fingers cut through the one next to it. After that, she was at her apex, she began to fall, buying her just enough space from the other slimes to thrust a leg outward, kicking through one, then swinging her foot to tear through another. The sheer momentum of this kick carried her, allowing her a new angle to strike the remaining slimes with her hand, turning them to a sludgy rain around her.

There was just the big slime left. It was already lurching toward her, sticky body reaching skyward to meet her. There was no hope, she was falling head-first toward it, its core too deep into its sickly flesh for her to properly strike it before it reached her.

Another memory overlapped with the one she was reliving. A vague, fuzzy one, something she only half-observed as she agonised over her own weakness. It was a trick Clint himself had used.

She took her staff and cast it downward, stabbing it through the slime and pinning it to the ground, snuffing out its attack in an instant. From there, it was all up to her. She crossed her hands, palm-springing off the top of the staff, flipping and landing with a two-footed kick, straight to the slime’s core. A comprehensive and total victory.

At least, that’s what she would’ve done. Such a move was impossible without an actual, physical staff. The vision was so clear in her mind, she was near certain she would be able to do it if given the chance, but with her staff burned amidst their battle with the Slime Queen, there was no way to recreate the conditions precisely enough to be sure.

Sighing, she fell into a roll and allowed herself to take a sitting position. “That’s enough for today.” She conceded, accepting that this was the closest she could get to a victory.

Luna leaned back, looking at the stars through the tree-tops, she breathed heavily, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I know, I’m wasting my time.” She murmured, eyes closed. Another invisible conflict with some remembered foe. “I’m weak.” she whispered.

A rustling from the trees snapped her out of her memories, but when she turned, she found no one there.

Clint returned to camp. He didn’t sleep until Luna returned. He watched over her, made sure she was sound asleep before he allowed himself to drift away.

He slept well that night. No more dreams.

Remaining Bullets: 5