Chapter 6-162: Playing with Fire (1/2)

His name was Edward Freundul, a smiling and cheerful fellow eternally fighting chubbiness, with ruddy cheeks and a happy-go-lucky attitude. His father ran a well-known high-end machining company supplying parts for Gritworks Firearms, and had made quite a fortune off the demand for high-end firearms there.

His son’s spiritual bias was definitely with the freewheeling flamer set, but Fire was based on Charisma and Dexterity, and Eddie’s highest Stats were in Strength and Con at 15 each, by her eyeball. He simply didn’t have the ability to break Three and enter the higher Levels of the truly talented Powered as a Fire Dragon Warrior.

That said, he could use chi, which many people would give their left arm to be able to do, and if he had to, he could take up Melee and Level up that way, although it would not be as good as sticking with the Dragons if he could.

Despite himself, she could see he was shocked when he drew the two short, curved Wingblades out, and put his chi into them. His whole body trembled at the feeling of completeness and harmony in the Blades.

“I have already named them. This is the big Wingblade... its name is Gross. This is the little Blade, its name is Klein.” She touched each Blade in turn. They looked absolutely identical to the naked eye, but neither of them was fooled by that. Internally, they were very different, indeed.

“Little brother follows the big brother,” he smiled, his head bobbing as he spun the Blades between his fingers and over his hands, exclaiming excitedly at how smoothly the whole process was. “This, wow, this really feels like they were made for me...”

Sama didn’t press matters, as that was exactly what they were. The Denthek terms were excruciatingly precise about matters like this, covering strength, build, reach, hand and finger sizes, natural coordination, and other factors when making the right weapon for someone.

That was what high QL was for. Magical or not, he was the one the Blades were built for, and nobody else would feel as harmonious with them as him.

“My dad already paid you, right?” he asked belatedly, realizing something.

“Yes.” Sixteen goldweight each, these things were far from cheap. His dad had shelled out the equivalent of nearly five million dollars for these for his Powered son. Obviously, he had high hopes. “Appreciate them. They were not cheap, even for him.”

“Yeah.” His eyes were dancing as he spun them around again. “Hey, I’m doing a demonstration at the high school here, do you want to come? I figured I might as well, since I’d be stopping to get these.”

“Sure. It’s about a half mile down the road. We can just walk there. I imagine you want to stretch your legs after that drive.”

“That would be great!” he agreed, his smile standing out in his scruffy orange-red beard.

------

She noticed him glancing at her feet as she glided along, and he couldn’t hold it in. “You know lightfoot?” he had to ask, doing a quick back and forth juking too fast for just muscles, unless you thought inertia was just a joke.

“Wave-Skating Step. It’s not as maneuverable as a Hotfooter like you, but it’s more sustainable and ignores terrain. At speed, it can run over water, too.”

“Really?” He looked out over the lake to their right, enjoying the view. “Sounds pretty useful...”

“So is Hotfooting, especially in a fight when you are dancing around quickly. You just need the foundation for it.”

He looked at her sharply, and she lifted an eyebrow at him. He sighed despite himself. “You know I’m not very good, don’t you?” he had to ask.

“Not every Powered is a genius, or even talented. Like anything else, it is something you build to if it’s not natural to you.”

“You look like you’re in pretty good shape. Do you fight?”

He actually drew back when she smiled, and her whole demeanor changed. “Yes. I fight a lot, and would even more, if I could.” It was a bit of a drive downstate to get to a good arena...

“Uh... how good are you?” he had to ask.

“I’m a Six Melee.”

He swallowed as he looked at her in a new light. “That’s pretty impressive...”

“It’s why I know you’re only a Three. You’ve got strictly average coordination, although your physique is pretty good otherwise. You’re a bit of a charmer, which is how you’re at a Three, but it’s going to be years before you make Four, without some real help. I think your father realized it, and its why he bought you the Swords, so you’d be able to fight above your weight.”

“Not just a status symbol?” he asked, his thoughts clearly on other things, like the showiness of them, and a father with money to throw around.

“Wingblades are supposed to be showy, glittery, attention-getting. The idea is to underestimate what the weapons can do, and be drawn into their dance. A dull wingblade is like a chick who can’t fly. You want to soar, to show and be seen. Fire Dancing swordplay is neither humble nor demure. You throw it all out there and make it a show. It’s all part of the style.”

“You’re familiar with the House of the Fire Dragon?” he had to ask, a bit startled.

“You trained in Detroit, so you’re using the orthodox Fire style, which is all over on the internet. Yes, I am familiar with it.” Fire Dancers loved performing in the fighting arenas, too, as the roar of the crowds was something they lived for... and they really nursed grudges when she beat the crap out of them, too, always wanting to come back for more. “You want some help with your show? They are bringing the whole school to see it, you should make a good impression, above and beyond showing off flaming fists and performing a few katas.”

“That would be great!” he blurted out in relief, clearly showing that he might have been a little too eager to do that.

“I’ve been teaching some of the kids here, so they have a basic grounding in fighting. Seeing how a Fire Dancer fights and how to counter it would be something they could get behind.”