M.S. Davidson
patreon
33. Freshets and Foothills [Bonus]
🕑 Added 2025-08-18 15:40:01 +0000 UTCCass inspected three curved swords like a surgeon choosing scalpels. They looked solid—well made, with leather-wrapped handles and brass crossguards—but they lacked the telltale orange gleam of Orichalcum.
I sat nearby on a wooden bench, still nursing the aftershocks radiating from my groin, fiddling with Erik's staff pieces like a puzzle. Putting the staff together? Easy enough. Storing it in my earring without bankrupting my mana reserves? That was a real challenge.
Each piece seemed to register individually when stored, making the mana costs stack up like a credit card bill—especially with that razor-sharp spear tip attached. Another quirk to figure out in this increasingly bizarre new life.
"These will have to do." Cass tested one blade's weight with swift, practiced arcs before slamming it home in a worn sheath. The sound rang out like a declaration of war.
The remaining Florans armed up with sleek recurve bows made of glossy black wood, their quivers loaded with short, sturdy bolts that looked more suited to crossbows than traditional arrows.
"Okay, I have a few questions," I said, taking the staff apart with exaggerated care. Red hopped up beside me, tilting his head like he was actually following the conversation.
Cass strapped both swords to her hips and flopped onto the bench across from me with fluid grace. "Shoot."
"You sure you're good?" Her eyes flicked to my still-tender groin. "I may have hit you a little hard."
"I'll live. Barely." I grimaced. "But seriously—if the road's that bad, shouldn't we get backup? Like, actual full hunters?"
"We don't want to be out there after dark." Cass's tone carried the weight of experience. "Lantern orbs are great, but there aren't enough on the roads. With this rain, it'd be a nightmare. We either handle this now or wait until morning—and the town would rather not wait."
The unspoken hung in the air: people might die if we wait.
I sighed, running a hand through my damp hair. "Should I put the armor on now?"
My tone made it obvious I already knew the answer. Cass perked up like she'd completely forgotten.
"Oh, yeah, probably." She said it so casually I wanted to throttle her.
My heart skipped a little. I'd been waiting all damn afternoon for this moment.
Taking out the sevenfold bottle, I knocked back a swig and passed it to Cass. "I'm going to try putting it on with the earring. Pretty sure I've got the hang of it."
"You've had it for an afternoon," she said, raising an eyebrow. The flicker of worry in her voice was almost maternal. "Let's see it."
The other Florans turned to watch like I was about to perform magic. Which, technically, I was.
I reached into my earring for the armor box, excitement bubbling in my chest like shaken champagne.
Starting small, I summoned the gloves first. The wicked leather gauntlets materialized and slid onto my hands like liquid, their design sleek and menacing. They felt like heavy-duty work gloves—restrictive but functional. The Florans nodded appreciatively. Even Cass looked impressed.
Confidence surging, I stored my vest and tried to swap my shirt and pants for the armor pieces. A strange vibrating sensation buzzed in my ear as I willed the pieces into place.
Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up. Cass smirked.
I glanced down.
I was completely naked.
"Ah, fuck me," I sighed.
"Hmm, maybe," Elizabeth replied, her tone dripping with amusement.
The room exploded with laughter. Everyone except me.
"Still the crazy naked curtain guy," Cass said, passing the bottle around with a grin.
Face burning with embarrassment, I concentrated with panicked desperation. The pants finally manifested, fitting as if they'd been painted on. Tight enough to make skinny jeans look baggy. Things were... supported.
I let out a long, defeated sigh as a chunk of my mana vanished. Figuring out why the armor hated me would have to wait. Priority one: not being naked in front of people who I had just met.
Several eternally long minutes later—far longer than I'd ever admit—I put the rest on manually. The entire set fit me... mathematically. Like someone had taken my exact measurements and said, "Yeah, make it exactly that size. No breathing room."
It felt like wearing spandex made of elastic cords. Stretchy, sure, but unrelenting once on. Every movement felt calculated, like the armor reminded me it owned my body now.
I twisted experimentally. Snug didn't begin to cover it. Restrictive in places I hadn't expected, but it moved with me in a way that felt oddly precise. Functional, definitely. Forgiving? Not a chance in hell.
"Ugh, okay, armor sucks," I muttered, waddling over to a bench like a penguin. "No helmet?"
"Most leather sets don't use one," Cass explained, then paused mid-sentence. Her eyes widened as realization hit. "Most fighters like to see around themselves in combat. But with your aura, you might actually prefer metal..."
She trailed off, staring at me.
"Fuck me. You're a Guardian."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Even the Florans turned to stare.
"Either way, it's better than being eviscerated by a monster!" Edward shot back without missing a beat, grinning like a maniac. "You get to handle any monsters we come across, Breaker."
Wait, me?
My stomach dropped through the floor. "I'm sorry, what now?"
"Ooh, I've always loved the word 'eviscerate'!" Cass stepped forward with that dangerous glint returning to her eyes—the same look she'd had right before destroying my manhood. "You look worried."
I was beyond worried. I was approaching full panic.
"That mana-hardening thing you did a few minutes ago?" She circled me like a predator. "I was going to show you at the farm, but you figured it out quick. Probably saw Erik do it, didn't you?"
I nodded, and her grin turned absolutely feral.
"Do it on your shoulder now."
"Oh good, shoulder punching," I said, rolling my eyes. "My favorite part of every day."
Bravery screamed warnings in my mind. I braced myself, pushing everything I could into my shoulder. But this time, the mana didn't just stay—it flowed into the armor itself, disappearing like water into sand.
I didn't even see Cass's fist move.
Her punch hit my shoulder with a sound like a thunderclap. The impact sent shockwaves through the room, benches screeching across the floor as I stumbled.
Cass was shaking her hand like she'd just punched a mountain. "Ow, shit. That was everything I had."
I barely felt a thing. The motion was more disorienting than the actual hit. The mana I'd used was completely gone, but when I tried to reinforce again, it took much less effort.
Something else had changed too. Bravery's sensory reach had shrunk from ten meters to maybe five. And my passive mana regeneration? Gone. Completely.
"Yeah, I get it now," I said, looking up at Cass with newfound respect for the armor.
"That's some seriously good armor." She rubbed her knuckles. "You're not allowed to wear it when we spar—it's not even fair."
"Oh, we're going to spar? Seriously, everyone here loves fighting way too much."
Cass smirked but didn't argue. "What do humans do for fun, then?"
The question hit me like a brick wall. Half the things I wanted to say would make no sense here, and explaining Netflix? Forget it.
"Stories," I said finally. "Massive amounts of stories told in more ways than I can explain. Books, songs, plays, moving images—it's endless. Music—any song you can imagine, available instantly." I paused, trying to summarize human civilization in thirty seconds. "Sure, some people fight, but most of us build, travel, study, invent, cook, raise families. Normal stuff. We don't brawl with the same people multiple times a week."
Elizabeth tied her hair into a ponytail, considering this. "Sounds boring. But we do those things too—traveling's just dangerous and expensive. A monster won't stop for a song, so it has to die. That's why we fight each other—to get stronger, to enjoy the world. It's why we're Strikers."
That actually made sense. In a world where death had claws and came howling out of the forest, you'd want backup.
"So Strikers fight, Arcanists study, and Guardians protect?" I asked. "And any of them can become Hunters?"
"Anyone can become a Hunter if they graduate Sylvarus," Cass explained, tucking pouches into her vest. "The Hunters share resources from all three factions. Elena oversees them; the Council oversees Elena."
"Seems like things have changed since the Gaius days?"
"The council formed because more than just the three factions wanted to contribute resources," Cass said. "Like the Sentarians."
"And the Nobility?"
"Plenty join the Hunters." Edward's tone carried faint mockery. "Fastest way to gain strength. They train, then scurry back to their little kingdoms. Some actual nobles forsake their lands entirely—like Lady Winters."
All eyes shifted to Cass. My eyebrows shot up.
She scoffed. "That was before I was even born. I grew up on a farm. We used to farm for the Empire. We’re farmers!"
Before she could elaborate, a sharp, shrill whistle pierced the rain—distant but loud enough to make Red flinch. With his ears pinned flat, a low whine escaped his throat.
Everyone tensed. Jake bolted to the door, calling out to someone in the street.
"Jorrah and Ferris went to the blockage," Jake said, returning with tension written across his face. "Must've seen a monster. Hopefully, the howler scared it off."
He paused, meeting our eyes.
"We need to go. Now."
"Ferris?" I glanced at Cass. She nodded.
“He and Felix were working on projects here. Felix planned to pick them up later for Sylvarus. Lucky Ferris was still around.”
And then we were moving.
Edward slung a massive pack over his back—tools clanging ominously inside. I stored the gadget boxes and lantern orbs in my earring and sprinted after the others, following the whistle's direction.
The road felt more sheltered now, the thick canopy catching most of the downpour. Cass led the way like she could navigate blindfolded, while I struggled to keep up in armor that seemed designed by someone who hated running.
"They went up the aqueduct!" Jake yelled.
Another howler screamed through the forest to our left—this time it felt physical. It felt like someone screaming directly into my skull.
"Fucking ow, that's loud!" I yelled, grimacing.
"They have to be," Cass shot back, leaping over shrubs onto a narrower path. Water trickled under our feet as we climbed a gradual incline.
At the top, we found ourselves on a massive stone bridge. At first glance, it looked like the one we'd crossed earlier—chest-high walls, relief holes for drainage. But this one stretched much farther, its incline smooth and purposeful. Water barely covered our ankles.
I glanced over the edge and froze.
Instead of a river below, a sprawling forest stretched fifty meters down, nestled in a wide valley that disappeared into gray haze. The structure beneath my feet curved gently, and understanding clicked.
This was the aqueduct. Designed to divert water toward Rainhaven and the river, probably to prevent flooding of the valley below.
But the flow was sluggish, barely moving.
Blockage indeed.
The aqueduct was wide enough for us to jog side by side. I stayed close to Cass, Red hot on my heels, while the Florans followed. We were all soaked—the exposed height leaving us at the mercy of wind-driven rain that lashed from every direction. I wished I had a helmet.
Gray skies pressed down like a weight, limited visibility making every shadow a potential threat. Being exposed with only two options, forward or back, made me wince with vulnerability.
I assembled my spear hastily; the pieces clicked together with satisfying precision. Cass glanced over, slowing as she drew one sword.
“Are you picking something up?”
"Not Bravery," I said, scanning our surroundings. "Just hyper-aware of how exposed we are."
Cass nodded grimly and drew her second sword. Behind us, the Florans followed suit—Jake and Elizabeth knocked arrows, Edward pulled a massive sledgehammer that looked more suited to driving railroad spikes than fighting monsters.
We increased pace, not sprinting but moving with deadly purpose. The aqueduct curved toward the valley's opposite side, every step heavier than the last.
Waterfalls emerged on both sides—wide streams pouring over hills into the valley thirty meters out. Ahead, the aqueduct resolved into a towering structure, its walls stretching high above the forest floor. Rain poured relentlessly, streaming down stone and pooling into sluggish rivulets.
We passed through a massive archway—sound muted briefly in shelter—before emerging into ankle-deep muddy water.
The aqueduct stretched behind us, mostly empty save for narrow trickles seeping through.
In front of us stood a dam.
The structure was immense. A ten-meter-high barricade of fresh-cut logs rose like a wooden fortress, still wet and sticky with sap. Bark clung in thick patches, jagged branches jutting at wild angles—built for strength, not aesthetics. Water pressed against the far side, dribbling through gaps but unable to breach the bulk.
"That's new," Cass muttered, approaching the steep log hill. Her sharp eyes narrowed as she tested the sticky sap. "We need to see what's on the other side."
Without hesitation, she holstered her swords and began climbing. I followed, storing my spear, cursing the armor that fought every movement. Below, Red paced nervously, whining softly.
The climb was treacherous. Rain made everything slick, the sap alternating between glue-sticky and dangerously slippery. I reached for a branch—it snapped under my weight with a sharp crack. My foot slipped, sliding me back several feet before desperate fingers found purchase.
Heart pounding, breath coming in sharp bursts, I clung to the logs like my life depended on it.
"It's not even vertical," I muttered through clenched teeth. "Why is this so hard?"
"You'll live," Cass called back, though concern flickered in her tone. "Keep moving."
A smooth voice cut through the rain, loud and clear despite the storm:
"Monster or mortal?"
"Definitely mortal," Cass called back without missing a beat.
As we crested the dam's top, two drenched Sentarian figures came into view—tall silhouettes against the stormy sky.
"Amituofo," one greeted. Ferris stood in blue robes plastered to his carapace, serene despite the chaos. Beside him, another Sentarian in a heavy oiled cloak—younger, more casual, but with sharp, wary eyes.
"Ferris!" I called, hauling myself up the last few feet, hands and knees slick with mud and sap.
"This humble scholar is pleased to see you," Ferris said, calm despite everything. "We may have underestimated the threat."
"Jake said it's an Arbortrux," Cass replied, wiping her hands and shaking water from her hair. "We should handle it together."
"It is six," the other Sentarian—Jorrah—interjected, his melodic voice carrying casual confidence. "I frightened them with a howler. They returned. I frightened them again. Now I have no howlers, and Ferris suggests retreat."
Cass's jaw tightened at 'retreat,' but Ferris remained composed.
I caught my breath and took in the scene. We stood atop a massive makeshift dam—logs and branches bound with mud and vines, stretching in both directions. Before us, a deep, raging river surged nearly to the structure's top, water spilling over the edges into roaring waterfalls.
The sheer scale was staggering.
"This is all Arbortrux’s work?" I asked. Unease prickled my spine. It looked like a giant beaver dam.
Of course. Giant beaver monsters. Why not?
Ferris nodded grimly. "Arbortrux are industrious when unchecked. This dam serves dual purposes: reshaping the environment and creating a defensible position."
Cass scanned the treeline, hand moving instinctively to her sword hilts. "What's the plan?"
"Our primary objective should be unblocking the aqueduct," Ferris said, measured, "but if left alive, they'll rebuild in hours—wasting more trees. If we do nothing, the foothills will flood by morning."
The water's surface shifted.
Several sleek, dark shapes glided from the trees, bodies almost completely submerged. They moved with terrifying, unnatural speed, wakes slicing through water as they surged toward us.
Even mostly underwater, their glowing red eyes stood out like hellish lanterns.
"Here they come," I said, gripping my spear as it materialized.
"Please avert your eyes," Ferris said suddenly, voice calm but commanding. My head snapped toward him just in time to see long, dexterous fingers forming complicated mudras. Blue runes blazed along his arms, illuminating the rain-soaked dam in flickering light.
Bear witness to the Pride of Storms.
The rain's sound vanished, replaced by a deafening thump. A shockwave exploded from Ferris's hand, accompanied by blinding light that seared afterimages into my vision.
Pure lightning erupted between his outstretched fingers—thick, jagged bolts shooting across water. It struck an Arbortrux head-on, detonating in sparks and a towering geyser.
A split second later, a thunderous crack tore through the air. The explosion's force sent us tumbling backward, careening down the muddy slope.
I landed hard, sliding to a stop in tangled limbs and mud. Ears ringing, pulse thumping, I pushed up on my elbows, spitting dirt and blinking through rain.
Nearby, Cass cursed creatively while Red licked my face in encouragement.
"That should buy us time!" Ferris shouted, voice cutting through the storm like a whip. "We must destroy the dam!"
"On it!" Edward's reply came from behind. I twisted to see him rummaging through his massive pack. With a casual air, he pulled out several wax-coated satchels and rolls of wick.
The man had a bag of bombs.
Edward strode over, handing Cass and me satchels. "Ben, Lady Cass, help me plant these in the dam. Some higher up—look for gaps. We'll destroy it and buy time for the Tower." He slapped wick into my hand with a pointed look.
I stared up at the impossibly steep slope of logs and mud. A really stupid idea began forming.
Before I could stop myself: "Shouldn't we blow it up while they're on it?"
Edward paused. His face broke into a wide grin as he clapped my shoulder.
"We're going to get along just fine, Breaker."
