303 Vol. 5 pt. 11 (1/2)
The sun is already hanging over the far mountains by the time the party reaches them. There are only a couple of hours left before the sun sets beyond the tall, snowy peaks, but that does not matter to them. After all, thanks to time in-game moving twice as fast as it does in real life, they can just find a nice spot to set up a temporary camp and then wake from virtual reality to go do whatever they need to do in real life.
For Azalabulia, that means grading papers. For Rao, it means running to the store to buy some more alcohol and spicy chips. For Cassiel and Nell, it means playing with ferrets in real life, watching random videos online, and doing whatever chores need doing around the house since it's their turn to do them.
Then there is Fenrir and Serra.
The only two who do not wake from virtual reality have different plans now that everybody else has left their virtual bodies under their protection.
And, for once, the plan does not involve anything lewd despite Serra being involved in it.
”Here,” Fenrir says, handing his sword in its sheath over to Serra.
”What now?” Serra asks.
”Draw it.”
”But you don't have a sword.”
Fenrir takes Rod off of his belt and extends the living tool into the proper length of a fishing rod. ”I've got something better.”
”Cheesy.”
”I know.”
”Won't a sword cut a fishing rod?”
”Come on, Serra. You've got to have some more faith in Rod.”
”I have faith in your rod.”
”Different rod.”
”I know.”
Fenrir taps the top of Serra's head with the tip of Rod.
”Come on. You want to get stronger too, right? Then let's teach you how to sword fight.”
”I want a hammer like Tabs.”
”All you get is a sword for now.”
”But hammers are used differently, aren't they?”
”Learning how to fight is still learning how to fight. You still need to learn when to attack, when to defend, how to dodge – all of that. Those skills are going to transfer even if you start swinging a hammer around instead of a sword.”
”I guess.”
”Trust me. Not only should you trust me, but you should be grateful that I'm your teacher!” Fenrir declares with a confident pose. ”I may not be the best swordsman ever—”
”Cass Cass is better.”
”As I was saying, I may not be the best swordsman ever, but I'm still pretty good. I taught old guild members how to fight in games before plenty of times when they were still new to VR games.”
”Will it make me better in real life, too?”
”I think so? I'm honestly not sure. I mean, for you, you would probably get better results than me since your character is just like your real self. For me, even though the system does a great job of smoothing over the transition between my real body and this one, things still don't really feel right sometimes. You ever feel that way?”
Serra shakes her head.
”Then anything you learn how to do in-game will probably translate really well for you to real life. Though, it's not like you have to learn how to sword fight in real life or anything. I don't really see how any of this would help you.”
”So I can dom you.”
”You're hoping fighting skills in-game translate to you being able to dominate me in real life?”
Serra nods and says, ”I'll be able to beat you up and get whatever I want.”
”That makes you sound like a mugger. And a rapist. A rapist-mugger.”
”It's not **** if I ask you for permission to beat you up first.”
”Oh, you're going to ask me for permission before beating me up to get whatever you want? Well, that just makes everything better. Congratulations, you've been promoted from a rapist-mugger to a friendly mugger.”
”Level up.”
”Right. You didn't get promoted. You just leveled up. Congrats.”
”I'm the best.”
”Yes you are.”
”I bet I could kick your butt with this sword.”
”Swords are for stabbing and slashing, not for kicking.”
”I want you to stab me with your sword.”
”I can't since you're holding it right now.”
”Your other sword.”
”I'm beginning to believe that it's impossible for you to go more than twenty seconds without somehow perverting whatever the current topic is. I could probably talk about intestinal worms and you would somehow turn it sexual, somehow. Actually, I know how… there's some really weird hentai out there,” Fenrir says and shivers.
”Makes me think of spaghetti.”
”Please don't ruin spaghetti for me.”
”Too late. Worm spaghetti.”
”You know we just bought the stuff to make that, right? What am I supposed to do when they make it and I'm the only one who looks sick when I look at it?”
”Be a man and eat it.”
”You're cruel, Serra.”
”I'll distract you under the table to take your mind off of it.”
”You're a cruel pervert, Serra Berra.”
”Because I'm the best.”
”Yes, you are. Now, try swinging the sword.”
Serra drops the sheath, holds the sword in both of her hands, and just sort of waves it around rather than trying to actually swing it in any meaningful way.
”Is… that what you call swinging a sword?” Fenrir asks.
”Yeah,” Serra answers.
”Haven't you picked up anything just from watching me and Cass?”
”We don't fight a lot.”
”You're not wrong, but still. Swing the sword like you mean it. I know you know how to.”
Serra shrugs, lifts the sword up over her head, and swings it down in front of her in a vertical slash.
”Aside from the fact that you were so slow that anybody would be able to counter, block, dodge, or kill you in the time it takes for you to move your arms a few inches, good job,” Fenrir says.
Serra pouts and waves the sword at him.
”That is sharp, you know.”
”It's okay, I know you're an M sometimes.”
”Remind me to keep all of our knives away from you the next time we wake.”
”No.”
”Am I going to have to sleep with one eye open?”
Serra smirks and tries swinging the sword again, this time sacrificing form for speed.
”Faster, but sloppy. You're not going to hit where you want to hit if you can't swing straight.”
”But I'd still hit them.”
”What if you hit a protected spot instead of a vulnerable one because your sword went to the side? It won't matter if you hit them since you won't be doing anything other than opening yourself up.”
”Then how do I get better?”
”Keep doing that. Keep on swinging over, and over, and over until your arms hurt.”
”I disabled pain.”
”Then keep on swinging until they start feeling numb.”
”You're not good at this. I want Azawaza to teach me.”
”She a caster. Unless you want her to teach you how to explode mountains—”
”Yeah. I wanna make huge explosions.”
”You already do that with my dick.”
Serra grins and points some finger guns at Fenrir.
”I hope you enjoyed that fanservice. That's the only perverted joke you're getting out of me until you prove to me that you can swing a sword better than… however it is you are right now.”
She goes back to pouting. ”Is there anything else I need to do?”
”Swing again.”
”Other than that.”
”I just mean to swing again so I can pay attention to your form.”
She swings the sword once more as Fenrir rubs his chin.
”You're using your wrists too much. Try to keep them straight and still. Only swing your arms.”
Serra swings again with his advice in mind.
”Perfect. See? You've already improved – you know how to swing straight now.”
”I'm ready for a break.”
”It's been like, less than ten minutes. We have almost six hours to go.”
”I give up. Fighting is too hard.”
”Don't be lazy.”
”Carry me and do all the fighting for me.”
”You can't have sex if you're lazy.”
”Yeah you can. You just have to do all the work.”
”Here, to make things more fun and exciting, try hitting me.”
”What if you get hurt?”
”One, it's a game. Two, you won't be able to hit me.”
”Sounds like a challenge.”
”That's exactly what it is. So, come on. Try cutting me.”
Serra steps forward and swings her sword at Fenrir. He barely has to put any effort in to stepping out of the way and avoiding her swing. Then, to top things off, he taps her on the back with Rod.
”Come on. I'm right here,” Fenrir teases.
Serra straightens her hat, looks up at him, and swings!
And completely misses.
”The sword isn't as long as you think it is. You're short, so your arms aren't that long, meaning you've got to get closer to me if you want to actually hit me,” Fenrir explains.
She takes a step forward to close the distance, and he takes a step back to maintain it.
”It's not fair if you move away,” Serra says.
”Do you expect somebody to stand still and let you hit them?”
”No, but it's still not fair.”
”Fighting isn't supposed to be fair.”
”I thought knights were honorable.”
”Neither of us are knights.”
”I wanna be a knight.”
”A short, perverted knight with a giant hammer who wants to blow things up?”
”Yeah.”
”That doesn't sound very knightly.”
”Then how do you be a knight?”
”Uh… I'm not completely sure. I've always been on the side that all the real knights hate, so I guess you just do the opposite of whatever I do – well, what I used to do.”
”Sounds boring. What you used to do sounds fun. Does that make you an evil knight?”
”Sure. Let's go with that.”
”I wanna be an evil knight.”
”A short, perverted, evil knight with a giant hammer who wants to blow things up?”
”Yeah.”
”Well, I guess that sounds pretty evil knightly.”
”Then it's settled.”
”Says the munchkin who can't even hit me.”
Serra pouts, steps forward, and swings!
She ends up missing, again, and getting tapped on top of her head.
”I think I might have to go even easier on you than I thought,” Fenrir says.
”Let me hit you.”
”I thought you were worried about hurting me?”
”It's only a game, and if you have pain enabled, it means you're a masochist who wants it.”
”That's not how it works. It's about immersion, not masochism.”
”Only masochists think that pain means immersion.”
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Fenrir taps her on the top of her head again using Rod. While she did try to avoid it this latest time, she was nowhere near fast enough and almost tripped in the process.
”You know, I think we might be approaching this the wrong way,” he says.
”How?”
”Because. You want to be involved in fights more, but you have no idea how to fight. You do love firing cannons and are pretty good at that though, right?”
Serra nods and says, ”Especially your cannon.”
”Of course. Anyways, maybe you would be better at ranged combat than melee combat. If me and Cass basically tank, then you and Azawaza wouldn't ever have to worry about being attacked unless we mess up. Well, that can't be guaranteed, but you'd get to focus more on aiming and delivering big attacks rather than having to dodge, attack, and pursue all at once.”
”Sounds easier.”
”Well, it requires a lot more skill in the aiming department, but you're pretty good at judging that if your skill with a cannon is anything to judge you by. I think that might translate to you being a good – well, maybe not an archer. What ranged weapon could you do good with…”
”A hammer that shoots cannons.”
”As much as I think Tabs would love to try and make something like that, I'm not sure it's possible or that it would even be allowed by the overseer. But… maybe a portable cannon isn't too much to ask for? The only problem is that you'll have to get even stronger so that you can carry it around properly. I doubt that it would be light.”
”I want a portable cannon. Can't I swing it like a hammer if I have to?”
”I mean, when you look at it that way, sure. It's basically just a really big tube hammer. I guess.”
”Tube hammer that shoots big balls.”
”But the real question is: does it shoot balls, or does it shoot balls?”
”You lost me.”
”I – I mean, like, does it shoot at balls or does it shoot balls as ammo.”
”Oh.”
”Never mind. Anyways, you still need to learn how to dodge just in case, and swinging a sword will help you out in case you ever need to actually swing a cannon around like a hammer. Just try to dodge my attacks and swinging at Rod whenever you can.”
”Okay. Will you ask Tabs to make me a portable cannon?”
”When we get back. Promise.”
”Sweet.”
”Now then, get ready unless you want to be smacked over and over.”
”Spank me.”
Fenrir, with a deadpan expression, smacks Rod against her rear while trying to be as unerotic as possible about it.
”Ahn,” Serra fake moans, her voice just as emotionless as Fenrir's deadpan expression.
”Come on. Let's see how much you can improve,” Fenrir says.
The training begins once more.
At first, Serra hardly manages to avoid any of his attacks. Four out of five attacks result in her getting gently tapped by his sentient weapon of a fishing rod, and the one out of five attacks that don't hit her usually aren't because she did a good job of dodging. Instead, they're because she trips and falls in an unpredictable way, so that Fenrir can try to boost her confidence a bit by going extra easy on her, and because Rock has decided to occasionally help out by nudging Serra in the right direction to dodge Fenrir's slow attacks.
Even Rock could easily dodge his slow attacks. After seeing Serra fail to dodge so often, she started to feel bad.
Meanwhile, the only other member of the party present and awake is Shogun. As the other three train and essentially play around, Shogun stays on guard facing the mountains.
”Is this really working?” Serra asks after almost an hour of dodging attacks and rarely getting to swing her sword.