[1761-1770] - Y07.261-270 – Nightval is Cold (Patreon)

01

As the game of Warriors and Wanderers began, the elder children, Adam’s cousins, played first, all the while Jirot sat nearby, checking through her notes, for Adam had began to keep things to himself, and they needed to recall the information themselves, although it was Jirot who was best at such.

‘Even though Kavgak is the leader, it looks like she prefers to step back to watch them play,’ Adam thought, rolling his dice. ‘Little Maygak and Faygak are still so shy, though…’

As Adam continued to play with the children, and as they claimed their victories, they swapped out, with Kavgak remaining, as the other children wished their nieces and nephews luck, and they joined their elder siblings to greet the other Iyrmen around. It was Adam who had recognised the children grew bored and disruptive when they weren’t actively playing, and to play with them all, it was a little difficult even for him, so he had asked their elder siblings to take them away as an excuse not to hurt anyone’s feelings.

‘I should probably let them roll a die and then come up with their own ideas for what happens,’ Adam thought, for when it came to being a Game Master, he was probably the best out of everyone there, even though there were a great many more in the Iyr now, who had allowed the game to spread to teach the children their future abilities, and to understand the concept of luck, as well as to give them a vague idea of how strong various creatures were.

The elderly of the Iyr had even come together to assist in designing the various creatures the children had faced, although some continued to argue that certain creatures were less or more tough compared to their own experiences.

“No!” Virot cried aloud.

“Oh dear…” Jirot called, taking her sister within her arms, rubbing her back tenderly. “Even though you rolled a one, it is two failures, not death just yet.”

“Kako!”

“It is my turn now,” Karot said, and he held out his hand. “I pray to Mother Soza to replenish my kaka’s health!”

‘This punk, when did he become so cute?’ Adam thought. “Which spell do you use?”

“Cure Wounds.”

“Which Gate?”

“Mm…” Karot looked at his sheet. “I heal for maximum because Virot is down?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I will use… Third Gate.”

Adam whistled, doing the maths in his head, for it was three times eight, and then when he added his modifier of-,

“Thirty five,” Jirot said, her lips forming a tiny circle. “Virot, papa healed you, and now you are so strong!”

Virot gasped, turning towards her brother. “Papa! You saved Virot.”

“Of coarse!”

“Of coarse!” the children echoed, as Virot crawled over to hug her brother.

“Papa, love you.”

Karot flushed. “I love you too, Virot.”

Virot smiled shyly, and the girl turned her head, and as Adam allowed them their moment, Kirot threw her dice.

“How dare a chimera harm my sister!” Kirot declared. “I will slay it!”

“Wait, wait…” Adam noted the one and six. “Karot, are you done with your turn?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? You moved, but you can move around, maybe in front, and then you have a Bonus Action too.”

“Mm…”

“You could drink a potion yourself if you need it?”

“Ock!” Karot did so, rolling his dice.

Adam turned to Kirot. “A one is obviously a miss, and a six is… barely a hit, since it’s Defence is thirteen, and you have plus six, plus one from the magical bonus.”

“Does it have vulnability to smashing?”

“Vulnerability, and no.”

Kirot rolled her three dice, and she gasped. “Seventeen!”

Jirot also formed a tiny circle. “Wow! Almost the full damage! Twenty one with the bonuses, daddy.”

Adam noted the singular health which remained, and he smiled, crossing off the creature’s health, and he let Kirot claim the victory, for the sake of her little sister.

“Do not worry, Virot, I will defeat the chimeras!” Kirot declared, holding up a fist.

Konarot pouted slightly since it was her turn next and she had wanted to slay the chimera, though a hand threatened to swallow her face whole.

“Konarot, are you going to keep an eye to make sure no one ambushes you?”

“Yes!”

Afraz stared at the play, rubbing his chin lightly, and his eyes darted between all the children. His eyes then floated to little Jarot, who was holding up a sheet of paper, staring at it intensely. He had struck the creature first, but as he stared at his inventory, he tilted his head.

“Daddy, what is an Elixir of Fiery Dragon?”

Adam shrugged. “You haven’t managed to Identify it yet, since you’ll all been so busy chasing this chimera, right?”

“There are more chimeras now,” Jirot said. “Is it the Shadow Council?”

Adam shrugged his shoulders, as Jirot turned to her siblings, and they began to discuss who it could be, but the only people they can think of were the Shadow Council.

“I loot,” Damrot said, stating the most important phrase after the slaying.

“Ah. Of course.”

“Of coarse!”

‘This seems like a fun game,’ Afraz thought, for somehow little Jarot, who did not like numbers much, would keep track of his inventory so zealously.

As noon came, the triplets buried themselves within the snow elsewhere, with their greatfather watching over them, and as the various Iyrmen came to check on them, they realised which trio they were, and so they merely greeted the Mad Dog and stepped away.

As the twins made their way to greet the business, checking in on them, Adam held Virot within his arms, as Vonda held little Xarot, and they made their way to greet other Iyrmen families. Thankfully, Jurot had come along with Damrot too.

“Did you have fun today?” Adam asked.

“Yeah!” Virot rested her head against her father’s shoulder.

“Do you like Warriors and Wanderers?”

“Yeah!”

Adam smiled, rubbing his cheek against hers. “Did you know, you get your leaf shaped ears from me.”

“Ears?” Virot asked, glancing up to her father’s ears.

“Mhmm. Your papas and kakas, I gave them their pretty ears.”

“Damrot ears are different?”

“That’s because papo Jurot is…” Adam turned, seeing Jurot’s eyes side eyeing him. “Who knows why?”

“Damrot is my son.”

“No!” Virot declared, reaching up to her papo. “My papa!”

“That’s right! You tell him!”

“You think! You think, papo?”

“Yes.”

“No more thinking, papo.”

Vonda kissed Xarot in order to hide her smile, and as Jurot held Virot’s gaze.

“Do you think because you are so cute I will forgive you?” Jurot asked.

“Yeah.”

Jurot glanced down to Damrot, who shrugged his shoulders, because they both knew it was true. Jurot wondered if he should run a game of Warriors and Wanderers for the children too. Since he was about to step out, perhaps a…

What did Adam call it?

‘What did they call me at the tournament?’ Jurot thought, trying to recall how he had defeated so many warriors with a single blow. ‘Ah. One shot.’

02

The shadow loomed tall.

The twins stared at the back of their father, who was staring at the wall, his arms tied behind his back. The two glanced between one another, for though they had rushed over upon seeing him, seeing how he was so focused on the wall, Jirot understood her father was thinking about something important.

“Daddy?” Virot asked.

“Daddy is thinking.”

“Oh dear.” Virot shook her head, and as she held Jitool’s hand, she was dragged away by the girl, who led the two children away, while little Jirot and Jarot led her forward, the girl who held both her niece’s and nephew’s hands.

‘The Reavers...’ Adam thought, and as he had been training harder recently he had realised how awkward it was to train the way he had. ‘I probably shouldn't continue Awakening the Iyrmen, but at the same time, the more Iyrmen that remain, the easier it is for the business…’

Adam closed his eyes.

He thought of all he knew about the Reavers, and how powerful they were.

‘They say the Reaver King has yet to step onto the battlefield. Does that mean...’

Every morning he would complete light cardio, followed by his routine of punching and kicking. Then in the afternoon he would walk to stretch his legs from enchanting. Then, in the evening, he would complete his weightlifting, often alone, although at some point his brother, and the other Rot began to join him.

“Daddy, you are eating so much...” Jirot finally said, having noticed the large meals her father would claim for himself, and though he would sometimes feed little Jarot, who was eating three bites consistently, plus a bite of dessert, he was piling on more food.

“I'm bulking since it's nightval,” Adam replied, and he scratched his beard lightly. “Since it’s nightval, what do you think? Do you like my beard?”

“I like it daddy!”

“Daddy, you are so rugged,” Jarot said.

Adam flushed lightly. “I am?”

“So rugged, daddy!” they all confirmed.

“Daddy, you can grow a beard?” Virot asked, raising her brow, glancing aside towards Jurot, who had begun to let it grow, every week cutting it slightly less than usual.

“I can, although, because daddy is a half elf, he can really only grow a beard during nightval.”

“Daddy is a half elf?”

“Yes, like you. Uh, wait, I mean, daddy is a half elf, even though you are an Iyrman,” Adam said, noting the way his daughter was about to say something, but Jirot settled down.

“Daddy is not Iyrman?” Virot asked, turning her head to her mother.

“I’m not, but I am close with the Iyr.”

Virot tilted her head, furrowing her brows, and as she turned to her sister, her confusion remained evident. “Daddy is not an Iyrman?”

“No…” Jirot thought about how to explain it.

“That is right,” Jurot said.

‘Don’t do it,’ Adam thought.

“Your father, he is not an Iyrman.”

‘Jurot, not like this.’

“He is a half elf.”

‘Jurot!’

“You and I are Iyrmen.”

Virot held her papo’s gaze within her own eyes, long and hard, and then, slowly, she turned her head towards her father, narrowing her eyes. “Papo is daddy?”

“You!” Adam reached out to his daughter, picking her up. “How can you be papo’s daughter when you cause so much trouble like your kaka?”

“No!” Virot smirked.

“Your sister, she causes trouble because she is my daughter, because I am daddy!”

“Ah!” Virot gasped, completely understanding that her daddy was her daddy, because it was he who was so troublesome.

“That’s right! Daddy is trouble, and your kaka causes so much, because she is daddy’s daughter!”

“Virot is daddy’s dohta?”

“That’s right! Forever and always!” Adan pulled the girl to his chest, peppering her with kisses all over, though she squirmed and escaped to her elder sister, who hugged her tight, smiling towards her father.

“Daddy is my daddy, because daddy is an Iyrman, and Damrot is an Iyrman too,” Damrot said.

“That is right,” Jurot said.

“Papo, you are not an Iyrman?” Damrot asked.

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“It’s sort of like how your mother isn’t an Iyrman.”

“Mummy is an Iyrman,” Damrot returned.

“Is she?”

Damrot looked towards his mother, then, up to her forehead. His brows furrowed. What happened to the tattoos on her forehead? “Mummy, your tattoos are gone?”

“I didn’t have tattoos.”

Damrot turned to his father, an incredulous look within his eyes, denoting just who he spent so much time with.

“Your mother is not an Iyrman, but she is your mother,” Jurot said.

Damrot looked down at his food, and as he did so, the boy’s face began to contort, and as he began to cry, Virot, too, began to cry, and soon they were within Adam’s arms, the half elf holding the most guilty of smiles upon his lips.

Pam reached up to her lips, glancing aside to her husband, who was also doing his best not to crack a smile. “I should start to teach him about my side of the family.”

“Mm…” Jurot replied.

“Is that alright?”

“Of course.”

“Of coarse!” came the echo, and a moment later, even the sniffling children spoke the words.

As the children eventually gathered themselves, and Damrot was trapped within his mother’s arms, and Virot within her papo’s arms, Jirot stopped Jurot from stepping away.

“You are so funny, papo.”

“Yes.”

Jirot slowly nodded, and with that, she stepped away, following her mother away, though soon her feet were floating in the sky. She turned her head, seeing her greatfather’s eyes staring into her eyes.

“I said it is my turn today…” Jarot warned, already holding Jarot within an arm, the boy half flying from beside his greatfather.

“Ah…” Jirot replied simply, and with that, she was taken away by the old man, allowing Xarot to be spoilt between his mother and father.

Xarot, however, was fast asleep, and as his mother placed him down, she turned to find her husband hadn’t followed them inside.

03

There were others who were deep in thought, for they had yet to speak of certain matters. Adam approached the group, soon being joined by Jurot, who had taken Damrot and Virot and sent them to their grandmother, so Pam could sleep peacefully, without any accidents happening to her stomach at this time.

As Adam settled opposite them, he glanced aside between them all, each roughly his age, each Masters, like him, but also not like him at all.

Tanagek began by pouring them all warm milk, and he raised his small cup to them all, and they lightly sipped at the warm milk, placing down their cups.

“It seems like we all had the same thought tonight?” Adam mused.

“It seems that way,” Chosen replied, and they could feel it, the chill of the wind that day, and as they continued to sip at their milk, they relaxed further within their seats.

“Are you excited about next year?” Adam asked, for only he was stupid enough to ask a question like that to Iyrmen.

Jurot closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, feeling his lungs expand wide, and as he let out the soft sigh, watching the light vapour fill the air and float away, he began to pour the warm milk in. “For my upcoming child, my son, my daughter, I should spill a sea of blood.”

‘What the hell, man…’ Adam thought, his eyes trailing to Chosen.

“I shall slaughter my way through a few Reavers, so all may remember the name Sen, and then, perhaps on our journey, I shall find a lovely man or woman to marry.”

‘Huh?’ Adam though, furrowing his brows to Chosen, who stared down at the cup of milk. ‘I remember him making a comment but I thought he was just joking…’

“I cannot allow Chosen to claim all the glory,” Tanagek replied simply. “Perhaps I shall find someone too.”

“I guess I’ll need to train hard so I can spoil your children without you being able to deny me,” Adam joked, flashing a smile towards the pair of them.

“I suppose I shall marry a lovely woman for your sake?” Chosen joked.

“I mean, isn’t it difficult to have children if you marry a guy? If you don’t give my children cousins, are you able to accept the consequences?”

“There are a great many children within the Iyr,” Chosen replied simply. “Perhaps I shall adopt Asorot as my own child?”

“It’s a shame you aren’t able to, since he’s too old, and he’s firmly my cousin.” Adam sent out quite a dark aura out towards Chosen, who dared to covet his darling Asorot.

“I wish to take the next step,” Kitool finally said.

“The next step?” Adam asked. “You mean you want to Level Up?”

“Yes.”

“Oh? What do you get?”

Kitool sipped her cup of warm milk, and she held Adam’s gaze, the shadow of a smile appearing on her lips.

‘What does she-,’

“Perhaps I shall marry too?” Kitool said.

Adam stared at Kitool for a long moment. “I need to train even harder if I’m going to be able to spoil your children since you’re so scary.”

“You spoil Jurot’s children just fine.”

“Yeah, but Jurot’s my brother, he has no choice.” Adam’s eyes darted aside to Jurot, who nodded, since it was true.

“You may just ask Jirot,” Kitool said.

“No, because you’ll be able to turn her against me.”

“As long as you know,” Kitool said, sipping her warm milk, hiding her smile behind her lips.

‘Jurot and Kitool are too scary…’ Adam thought. “I’m glad you two are so easy to beat up, because I’ve fought Kitool before and she was terrifying, and Jurot… I don’t think I can defeat him when he can tank everything.”

“What does it mean to be a tank again?” Chosen asked, before choosing how offended he should be by Adam’s words.

“It means someone who can take a great many blows.”

“I can…” Chosen began, though when he recalled Jurot’s great fortitude not just against simple steel, but the elements too, he slowly nodded his head. “Perhaps Tanagek and I, together, are enough to deal with you, now that we are both Masters?”

“If it’s a Rage Dancer and a Fighter…” Adam mused. “I mean, maybe.”

“Shall we test it out?”

“What will I say to Dana and Chi?” Adam let out a soft sigh, as though he had already defeated them in his mind.

Chosen chuckled, for he was fairly certain the half elf would be able to defeat both he and Tana, although if they had managed to gain the first strike… No, even then, Adam was too tanky.

“Perhaps we shall meet Amokan and Timojin upon the field?” Tanagek mused, for he hadn’t seen either of them in so long, and whereas they had gone to assist Adam during the dark days immediately after, Tanagek and Chosen had managed to assist during the aftermath.

“Should I send them word?” Adam asked, thinking about those two. He recalled how terrifying both of them were too, especially Amokan, whose fighting style was the kind that did not allow him to hit reliably, but when he hit, he hit as though he were a rampaging chariot.

“Perhaps during the start of the year?”

“I wonder where they are.”

“They are mostly likely…” Jurot began, though tilted his head. “They must be within Aldland somewhere, though…”

“I wonder if they’re alright.”

“They must be…”

“Perhaps you should send them word tomorrow?” Kitool asked.

“Yeah…” Adam frowned slightly, hoping they weren’t in any trouble.

As they finished their conversations, they all said their goodbyes, although Chosen motioned a hand for Adam to follow him.

“Sorry, Cho, I’m taken.”

“You are not my type,” Cho replied.

Adam frowned. “What? I’m handsome!”

“You are too stupid, and I believe I should be the stupid one in my relationship.”

“Ah.” Adam slowly nodded. “I get that.”

“I just wished to thank you.”

“For what?”

“It was no doubt thanks to you I have stepped into Masterhood so early.”

“You worked hard…” Adam replied, holding Chosen’s eyes.

As Chosen held Adam’s gaze, he smiled, bowing his head, since as long as Adam knew, that was all that mattered. “Good night.”

“You too.” As Adam returned to bed, he found little Xarot was holding onto his mother’s hand. “You punk, why are you flirting with my wife?”

“He is allowed to,” Vonda whispered, rubbing her eyes, and in the dim light, she was barely able to see her husband, but he was able to see her, clear as day.

Adam rinsed his mouth with the sour concoction, and as he shuddered, spitting it out to the side, he climbed on the other side of his wife, and claimed her other hand. He leaned in, nuzzling her cheek lightly, and as the two exchanged a kiss, he slipped behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist, feeling her warmth against his.

“Between Xarot and I…”

“Of course it’s Xarot.”

“Of course…” Adam replied, leaning over to rest his cheek against his wife’s, their cheeks rubbing one another gently, sharing their warmth. “I’d probably pick him if it was me or him too.”

“Probably?” Vonda turned her head, and knowing he could see her face even in the darkness, she raised her brow.

“Good point.”

04

“Why are you crying, young man?” the Iyrman asked. He was bronze skinned, with long hair, dark, like his eyes, and he carried a sword upon his back.

The boy, who was perhaps six, or perhaps a little older, stared up at the Iyrman, and then as his eyes trailed to the side, towards the grey wall of another Iyrman, who was grey skinned, with long braided hair which fell down, and a thick beard that covered most of his lips.

The boy cried harder.

“To think we would awaken so early to the sound of death,” the Iyrman said, inhaling deeply, and as he raised his arms, he welcomed the morning dawn, as the giant seven headed hydra screeched, and leapt onto the encamped caravan. “A true delight.”

“We should assist,” the grey wall said.

“What? We? We of the Iyr, who were called cowards?” the bronze skinned Iyrman asked, turning to face the grey skinned Iyrman. “We-,”

It was then he paused, hearing a voice, which seemed to whisper along the wind, only for his ears.

“…”

“We are well, cousin Adam. There is a hydra before us. Give our greetings to the children. Timojin is still…” Amokan smiled. “You know how he is.”

“A Sending?”

“He wished to ask us if we were well.”

“To think he would worry for we,” Timojin replied, and he flexed his muscles as the hydra tossed aside a guard as though they were made of silk, and crunched another between a pair of heads. He reached up to his greatsword, and stepped forward, and as his skin turned darker, almost purple, the crimson skinned Amokan leapt over him, and charged towards the hydra, and as he leapt and spun, he drew his greatsword and almost cleaved through a head, as Timojin’s steel sung within the air, threatening to bisect another.

It was within the Iyr, over breakfast, Adam nodded. “Amokan and Timojin are facing a hydra, but told me to give their greetings to you. Timojin is so handsome, and muscular, as always.”

Inakan smiled. “My brother is so strong, cousin Adam.”

“He is, but is he as strong as you now? What with your magical gauntlets?”

“I will allow him to be stronger, for he is the big brother,” Inakan joked, cackling with delight.

“If they are facing hydras, they may be near Life River,” Jurot mused.

“Ah, so they may,” Adam replied, slowly nodding his head. “Perhaps we should have sent a few to donate some shields?”

“We will do so next year,” Jurot assured.

“Right…” Adam leaned back slightly as Xarot began to stand atop his lap, and grabbed onto his collars with both hand.

“Daddy!”

“Yes?”

“Iz boh go?”

“You’d have to tell me.”

“Go!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go, but, when I go, I don’t want to hear that you’re crying, alright?”

Xarot blinked. The boy smiled and cackled, leaning in to plant a firm kiss on his father’s forehead, and then turned to flee, taking from sunrise to sunset to flee as he gripped his father’s collar tight and slowly, tentatively, stepped off his father’s lap, onto the chair, and as Jurot held a hand, the boy reached for it, though he half dropped, with Jurot’s arms catching him by his pits, and Adam catching him by his waist, placing him to the side. As the boy stabilised himself on the floor, he turned to look towards his father and papo, blinked, and then recalled what he was meant to do, and swiftly fled away.

“My son is so cute,” Jurot said.

Adam’s jaw dropped. “You can’t do this to me!”

As they made their way to begin their work, Afraz considered what he should do. He assisted lightly in this and that, but otherwise was mostly a guest thanks to Gangak, and, technically, he was a mentor for the business. He made his way to the business, finding a great many there, and as he greeted them, he approached the triplets, beaming down towards them.

“Shukhur, they are so handsome,” Afraz said.

“They take after their mother,” John replied.

“You sound just like my grandson!” Afraz exclaimed, patting John by his shoulders. “Oh ho. I see. Good build. You wish to learn with big sword?”

“The Executive will teach me.”

“Ah! Aha! Yes, yes, I remember.” Afraz sighed lightly, turning, finding the others relaxing that day, many completing various hobbies, others working on maintenance, of weapons, clothes, buildings, and their bodies and minds. He found a particular fellow who carried a greatsword beside him. “Yonn, yes?”

“Jonn,” Manager Jonn confirmed.

“Mm, mm. You are Manager.”

“Yes.”

“Mm. You wield big sword?”

“Yes.”

“You learned in…” He snapped his fingers. “With Kal Yamas Greatwood?”

“I was once a member of the Thousand Hunts, before they became High Garden,” Jonn confirmed.

“Mm. You still use their sword?”

“It was a gift from the Executive.”

“Mm! What of… style?”

“I still use their sword techniques,” Jonn confirmed.

“Mm. It is good?”

Jonn slowly nodded.

“Shukhur. If you wish to learn, I can teach.”

Jonn slowly nodded his head, and as he tilted his head, he considered Afraz, who smiled innocently. “You wish to teach me?”

“I am old. Sitting down. No drinking. So bored.”

Jonn considered who he was, and that he was a Grandmaster, or so, and he stood. “Are you a Rage Dancer?”

“No, no, Fighter.”

“Ah?” Jonn replied. He thought he had been a Rage Dancer, though he realised that, since he was from Aswadasad, it was awkward to wear heavier armour?

“I will teach you?” Afraz asked.

“Please.”

“I will see you tomorrow, when Lord Noor shows his face,” Afraz said.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Shukhur, shukhur, betta.” Afraz pat Jonn’s shoulder gently, and then turned, towards the other children, and as he noted the fellow, dark of skin, an Aswadian, he held Bilal’s gaze for a long while. He was certain Bilal was someone who was a fellow like he, a man who spilled blood.

05

‘Next year, all through dawnval, I’ll enchant, and then in noonval I’ll step out?’ Adam thought, half within his meditations, before he stood, beginning his morning practise, working on toughening his fists and forearms. ‘Why does it have to be noonval? I guess it’s fine for me, but isn’t everyone else going to suffer in their full plate? I guess we’ll need to bring along more water, and maybe I should make some more rings so we can cool the armour? I guess I can’t cool everyone’s armour at once with them, so it’ll just have to be the water?’

As the snow continued to fall within the Iyr, Adam took his children out, sometimes one by one. On this particular day, the half elf led Virot out, walking her out towards Jirot and Jarot, who had stepped out to bully their ahms, and as the girl sauntered through the snow, adorned in her thick attire, wearing a thick hat, thick gloves, and a thick aura of mischief, she dropped face first into the snow.

“Ock!” Virot complained. She stood, looking down at her front to see all the snow, then turned to look to her father. The girl blinked. Her face made to contort to cry, decided it was the time to cry, and as she did, her father swallowed her whole within his arms.

“The snow was so mean, wasn’t it?”

“So mean!” Virot cried.

“Well, if it’s being mean to my darling daughter…” Adam pulled back, holding his daughter within his arm, and as held out his fist, he clenched it, and concentrated his mind onto his fist. “Flame Fist!”

Virot pulled back, clutching her father’s collar in shock as the flames engulfed around her father’s fist and shot down, striking the snow, causing the snow to sizzle and melt. The girl turned, staring up at her father in utter bewilderment, while her other hand was on her own chest, as though aghast.

“I dealt with the wicked snow,” Adam said, pulling his daughter in tighter with an arm. The girl turned her head, raising her brow, her mouth agape.

“Daddy! Is fire? From your hands?”

“It’s magic.”

Virot gasped once more. “Daddy! You know magic?”

Adam blinked. He kicked the snow over the wetness, and continued to pile snow, just in case it would harm someone else for being so slippery, and he continued to make his way to the business, where he found his twins, and as Virot hopped out of her father’s arms, or so she thought, as Adam guided her down, the girl rushed towards the twins, tripping in the snow, but immediately standing and hugging her sister, as her brother hugged her from behind, and the pair sandwiched her in affection.

“Kaka!” the girl exclaimed.

“Virot!” Jirot returned, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Daddy!” Virot accused.

“What did you do?” Jirot asked, her eyes snapping to her father.

“This time…” Adam turned his head away.

“What did daddy do?”

“Daddy is running snow and Virot trip and snow all over my face and daddy, daddy’s hand on fire and snow is gone!”

“Virot was walking in the snow, fell, and cried, and I used my magic to punish the snow.”

“Ah!” Virot said, and she hugged her girl tight, kissing her red nose. “Did you say thank you to daddy?”

“Kaka! Daddy is magic!”

“Virot, I always tell you daddy knows magic, how do you not know?”

“Kaka! Is fire!”

“Daddy used Flame Bolt?”

“Yeah!”

“Daddy is so strong, and daddy uses magic.”

“Woa!” Virot gasped. “Daddy is magic…”

“I know magic too,” Jirot declared.

Virot gasped. “Kaka?”

Jirot reached into her pocket in which a chain was clipped to a ring and as she held the ring, she waved her hand and began to speak the words of magic, and upon Virot’s sleeve, a small symbol of the Rot family appeared.

“See?”

Virot blinked.

“Jirot, undo the magic, so she can see,” Adam explained.

As Jirot did so, Virot gasped, turning to show her sleeve to her sister. “Is gone, kaka! Is gone!”

“I know! I cast a trick!”

“Twick!” Virot gasped. “Kaka! I know magic too!”

“Oh?” Jirot blinked, and as Virot held out her hand, she closed her palm and then revealed it once more.

“See?”

“Amazing!” Jirot declared, hugging her sister.

“May Zing!” Virot declared, and she hugged her elder sister equally as tightly.

Adam exchange a look with Jarot, who smirked, and the boy reached out a hand, gently patting his father’s knee. “Good job, daddy.”

“Thank you.”

“Your cousin knows magic, and you do not?” Dunes accused, staring down at his daughter, who was younger than both Virot and Jirot.

Ranya turned her head, raising a brow to her father, and as the girl hopped off the chair, with her father’s sight upon her, she marched over to the half elf. “Ahm!”

“Ranya!”

“Daddy! Mean boy!”

“What? Your daddy is being mean to you?”

“Yeah!”

“What did he do?”

“Daddy gone all way!”

“Oh my gosh!” Adam gasped, picking up the girl, who pouted up towards the half elf. She buried her head into his neck and hugged him tight. “I’ll tell Jirot to sort him out.”

Ranya pulled back slightly, smirking, as though it had gone all according to plan.

“Jirot, did you hear? Your ahm is bullying his daughter, he was gone all the way, and now your cousin is so sad.”

Jirot gasped, the girl turned around, only to find Dunes was already mid flight, running out of the business. “You dare!”

‘Is Dunes funny too?’

As Jirot chased after him, Korin called out to her, and the girl stopped. “Ahm, I must go!”

“Ah, yes, but aila Sara wished to play with you, and if you go, who will play with aila then?”

Jirot inhaled deeply, turning to Ranya, who continued to hold onto her own foolish father’s foolish neck. “Sorry, ahm, but I must go, for the sake of my cousin.”

“Ah?” Korin’s brows raised. “I see. If you must go for the sake of your cousin, what can I say?”

“Sorry, ahm, sorry.” Jirot then rushed off, Jarot following after her, and Virot doing the same.

“Jirot, wait, Ranya, do you want to play with abnem Jirot?”

“Pay?” Ranya’s ears perked up, and she held out her fists on either side. “Abnem…”

Jirot narrowed her eyes to her father, for how could he betray her this way, and yet, for the sake of her cousin, Ranya, she would forgive him, just this once. As she was about to speak, the girl watched as he father placed little Ranya down, and high fived her, allowing the girl to waddle her way to them, and Jirot opened her arms, hugging the girl.

‘Jirot is so…’ Korin’s heart swelled lightly. ‘To think she is more sweet than she is vicious…’

“Magic!” Virot declared, as though explaining Korin’s thoughts.

Korin leaned back, watching the children play, little Jirot and Virot, and little Jarot, along with Ranya, each of them speaking a mixture of the tongue of fire and the tongue of sun and gold. He stared beyond them, to another time, as a boy, within the harsh mountains of Black Mountain, and he wondered, did he speak like that to the other children around? Was it so full of affection? Was he so full of affection?

The Aswadian reached up, brushing along the corners of his eyes, the warm wetness turning cold quickly. He looked around to the Iyr, and wondered, if the children would remain this sweet and tender with one another for years to come.

‘Ah,’ Korin thought, his eyebrows raising.

It was up to them, wasn’t it?

06

“Today, this greatfather of yours will teach you boulder rolling!” the old Iyrman exclaimed, for though the snow around them lightly fell, the children were to remain training.

Mulrot reached up to her forehead, rubbing it lightly, for how was he meant to teach the children when they were so heavily armoured in their thick clothes.

“Since you are children of the Rot family, you will train your bodies well, to form skin that is like iron, and when you rage, your skin will be like steel,” Jarot stated firmly.

“It is because steel is tougher than iron,” Jirot whispered to her siblings, who all nodded their heads.

“Boulder rolling is a technique of the Rot family, and many Rage Dancers, in the same way the Fev and Ool family are swift on their feet, those of the Rot and Kan families are tough with their bodies, and you are of the Rot family, which is different to a great many Rage Dancers for other than our mind, we are able to resist all material wounds. You, too, will…” The old Jarot stared down at his children, who were six years old, the children old enough to train lightly, but not yet old enough to begin their harsher training. “Since you are of the Rot family, and you will learn to Dance like your greatfather and your grandfather, and your uncle, you will have to learn boulder rolling.”

Though the old man spoke the words, he could see his greatdaughter’s eyes, the little girl glaring at him so brazenly, for she could do so.

Jarot cleared his throat. “Your greatmother will attack me and I will show you boulder rolling.”

As Mulrot, with perhaps too much eagerness, thrust her spear towards her husband, the Iyrman half swayed away, and as the spear threatened to pierce his neck, he threw his shoulder under the steel of the spear, which only managed to slice his red neck, and though a gentle stream of sanguine began to flow, the old man had deflected most of the blow.

“This is boulder rolling, or rolling the boulder, however one may wish to say it, and though one can wield it in armour, it is more useful for we who Dance our way, for our bodies are exposed to the elements, and to steel, and even if you are tough like we who Dance, we must be careful.”

“Babo, I will become a great Scribe Mage,” Jirot informed.

“Babo, I will be a Priest,” little Karot said, second, somehow.

“Babo, I will be an Oathsworn Fighter, like daddy,” Konarot said, and Kirot nodded, since her elder sister said it best.

Karot blinked, turning to his sister. ‘Oathsworn Fighter?’

“You…” Old Jarot began to sniffle lightly.

“Babo, I will be a Rage Dancer like you,” little Jarot said, beaming up towards his greatfather, his green face peeking through his heavy hood, his nose and cheeks lightly rosy from the cold of nightval.

“You!” Old Jarot lifted his greatson between his arms. “It is you who I can trust!”

“Babo…” Little Jarot flushed, and he wrapped his arms around his greatfather’s thick neck, feeling just how wide it was, and even in his age, roughly in his seventies, the old man was still a wall of muscle. It was this greatfather, who had held him from when he was a little boy, the size of a pear, this greatfather who he had been named after, who would spoil him with his affection, this greatfather who had gone out to slaughter so many for killing him, whose body was so warm.

“It is difficult for the children to train boulder rolling for they are within their coats,” Mulrot said.

“Hmm…” Old Jarot rubbed his cheek against his greatson’s cheek gently, all the while his greatdaughter awaited, giving off the aura of a vicious Paragon. “I see…”

“Do not ask why I only mentioned it after I managed to cut your neck,” Mulrot said, and she glanced down towards her greatdaughter, the two side eyeing one another, smirking playfully, for they knew why.

“Your greatmother always bullies me…” Old Jarot grumbled.

“Well done, nano,” Jirot said, reaching out to take her greatmother’s hand, and as the old man grit his teeth, he hugged his greatson even tighter, and the two exchanged kisses against their foreheads.

“Perhaps I should not tease your greatfather much more?” Mulrot asked.

“Nano, how you can say this? Babo is so old, even now he has not learned what he must learn, so you must continue bullying him.”

“Ah, of course.”

“Of coas!” the children echoed, as the old man continued to pepper kisses all over his greatson’s green face.

As the finished their light training, they found a man with dark skin running through the snow, covered in heavy attire, and as they spotted one another, the figure ran towards them, panting as he undid his hood, revealing his fiery hair.

“Training hard?” Jirot asked.

“Hardly training,” Korin assured, and the two smirked, and Korin took to a knee to greet his nieces and nephews. “Are you all training hard too?”

“Hardly,” Jirot replied, smirking playfully between her ahm. “I see the steel in Black Mountain is forged well.”

“Ah, well, since I don’t possess much talent, I must train hard?”

“I see you are talented, ahm, and since you are talented, you will be able to marry aila, and you will have many talented children for me to spoil?”

“Jirot, since you outrank me in the business, you cannot say such things, it is considered harassment?”

“What? Ahm, you are my ahm, you do not outrank me?”

“It is because your grandmother is the President, so that makes you a Princess of the United Kindom?”

“There are no Princesses in the Iyr.”

“Ah, but the business is not the Iyr?” Korin tilted his head.

Jirot half turned her head away, holding her ahm’s gaze within her eyes. “Ahm, you are so good at talking.”

“I must be this good at talking to marry aila, and to give you so many talented cousins to spoil.”

Jirot held out a fist, allowing Korin to bump her fist, and she turned. “Babo, you must train ahm too, because I would like more cousins to spoil.”

“Ah, I will beat him well,” Old Jarot assured, grinning wide like a beast.

‘I suppose I bullied my niece a little too much?’ Korin thought, and as he held his niece’s eyes, he could see the way she was smirking at him so knowingly.

“Ahm Korin,” Little Jarot called.

“My sweet Jarot.”

“I will tell babo to beat you lightly.”

“Thank you.”

07

As the snow fell that day, blanketing the Iyr in a gentle white, there were two, one with ears the shape of leaves, and one with the skin the colour of burnt bronze.

“Good,” Afraz said, seeing as how Manager Jonn was taking to his swordplay. Although he was not young, since he had learnt the swordplay of the Thousand Hunts, he had already established a decent foundation, however, he was more used to the swordplay he had wielded his entire life, so he would need a few years to learn. However, since he was older, in his prime, even, as a half elf, the young man could train quite hard each day to learn the swordplay, and perhaps evolve the swordplay into something that inherited the characteristics of the swordplay that was to hunt a great number of beasts, and one of a man who had to become a beast to survive the cruelness of the world.

As Jonn swung Oathkeeper, the weight of the sword throbbing through his forearms, his arms, and his shoulders and back. As he stepped forward, he drove the sword with not just his upper body, but his lower body, and as he swung the sword, he understood the sentiment behind the sword he was beginning to wield, the sword of a particular half elf's grandfather.

'He will need someone to spar,' Afraz thought, and though he was within the Iyr, who was suitable for someone like Jonn? He supposed he could ask his dear grandson, or perhaps his grandson's brother, but from what he gathered, it wasn't just his grandson who was a monster, and he himself wasn't even confident against his grandson's brother, who was the grandson of a true monster of the Iyr. 'If there is such a large difference, there is a kindenss in allowing the stronger of the two to watch over the weaker of the pair, but this one is senior in age, so it is difficult to allow someone younger to watch over him. Who am I able to ask?'

"Jiddo, how are you?" asked a dark skinned man with fiery red hair, and as he smiled, his smile faltered slightly seeing the older man's smile, the kind of smile was that too delighted to see him. Thankfully, however, he was a man of steel.

Jonn stood opposite Korin, the pair adorned in their full plate, two figures, each beyond Expert. Indeed, with such a title, and with such equipment, even a Shen would wish to gain their strength, especially since the pair were those born and raised within an Order. The Order of the Thousand Hunts certainly had made a name for itself, and now that it had morphed into a part of High Garden, it was perhaps the greatest of all the Orders. Then there was Black Mountain, which was the singular Order dedicated to the Lady of War, and its pedigree had allowed it to save itself in a land which preferred the Lord of the Sun.

"You did not wish to wield Oathkeeper?" Korin asked, having drawn his steel, and such fine steel it was, though it was not magical.

Yet.

"I wish to feel the steel of Black Mountain true," Jonn replied.

"What a shame, for I am not one who has inherited such steel," Korin joked, and with that, the two faced off against one another.

As the sky darkened, evening greeting the Iyr, the Iyrmen, and all those who enjoyed the bosom of the Iyr, the Mountain Tiger, and the Advisor Sword, remained, for the Iyr had requested they spend the rest of the year within the Iyr, as part of the compensation rightly afforded to the Iyr, due to the King's negligence, or so they had stated, and as the two stayed within the Front Iyr for the week, they had greeted a large number of Iyrmen, and enjoyed their time in imprisonment.

It was during this imprisonment they came across a particular figure, one they were certain they had heard of previously.

"How did you know?" Adam asked, holding his twins within his arms, their amber eyes staring out towards the Mountain Tiger of the North, and the Advisor Sword, who they had finally worked up the courage to greet.

Mountain Tiger of the North and Advisor Sword's eyes slowly trailed down towards the twins who were staring at them with their amber eyes, each who looked to be those kinds of beings, and when it came to those kinds of beings, in relation with the Iyr, there was only one person this fool could possibly be.

"A lucky guess," Advisor Sword said.

"Aye," Mountain Tiger replied.

"My children wished to meet with you, and since my children wished to meet with you, so, too, did my grandfather, who was excited to see you, for he is someone you may know," Adam said innocently, while Old Jarot grinned like a wild beast behind him, his eyes focused on the two as though they were prey. "Grandfather, stop looking at them like that."

"Like what?"

"Like they're prey," Adam said, speaking the words that should have gone unsaid.

"Are they not?"

"They made the wise decision to protect their soldiers, and it wasn't they who dared to fire upon our children, were they?"

"I will step back if my greatchildren request it."

"Babo, we will see," Jirot assured, her eyes returning back to the two. "If they cause trouble, daddy will beat them up."

Mountain Tiger made a face as though to suggest he hadn't ever expected someone like her to ever speak to him in that way, and as he did, he noticed the way the half elf began to smile towards him, with such a delight.

"It is indeed I who they call the Crazy Father, who slew the head of the Vice Commander Kris of the Thousand Hunts, now High Garden. Although, considering who I defeated upon my journey within Aswadasad, it's not quite as impressive to say I killed a mere Vice Commander."

"You must have slain quite the figure if you are calling him a mere Vice Commander," Advisor Sword said.

"What? Slay? Who do you think I am? I am husband to a Ray, how could you dare to suggest I would kill someone upon my journey? Don't you know, I worked rather hard not to kill anyone!" Adam declared. "I mean, it's not like anyone, I mean, many of them dared to ask for death, most were polite, like the Vice Commander of the Amber Blades, Kal Idris, who I defeated in an exhibition, and then once more during a private exhibition, though he possesses a noble heart, unlike a great many Aldishmen, not to say there aren't Aldishmen who possess noble hearts, for certainly there are quite a few, I'm sure, certainly, although I cannot name them at this time..." Adam let out a sigh, trying to put the two in their place, but at the same time making sure his children understood. 'Why is politicking so hard?'

The Mountain Tiger of the North blinked. 'He really is the Crazy Father...'

"If you are able to defeat the likes of the Vice Commanders, you must be a Grandmaster at least."

"I'm actually slightly above a Master, it's just that the Lord of Death has granted me special privileges, so I'm able to fight those above my title, although once we speak of Paragons, it does become a little more difficult, and then those are the Peak, they're a little more difficult too."

"If you're that strong, you wouldn't mind facing me," Mountain Tiger said, grinning wide.

"I really don't like to face Rage Dancers, but if the Advisor Sword wishes to don her armour, and wield her blade, I will fight without my... my armour or my axe, it's your choice."

Advisor Sword narrowed her eyes, but she bowed her head. "Since the young man has requested a spar, I assume it is fine for me to don my armour and wield my blade?"

"Since my grandson wishes to beat you, who will dare deny you?" Old Jarot almost exclaimed.

Jirot glanced between her father and her greatfather. She wiped her face. 'I'm surrounded by idiots.'

Thankfully, she knew exactly who to speak to.

08

"Why is it that whenever there's trouble, it's always you three?" Jaygak asked, as Old Jarot, Jirot, and Adam each blinked in return, and the young woman smiled to little Jarot, who flushed slightly.

"Did you get the reference?" Adam whispered.

"Of coas," Jirot whispered in return, causing her father and brother to echo the words.

"If Adam has requested a spar, then I will grant permission into allowing the Advisor Sword to wear her armour and to wield her sword for the duration of the spar," Jaygak said, and she motioned a hand to one of her aides to retrieve her armour. "I will entrust you to watch over little Jarot, and for little Jirot, since she is the most troublesome of all, I shall request another."

"Elder, there is no need for you to strike me so personally with your words," Jirot replied, although she remained within her father's arms with a guilty expression.

"If I speak a lie, you may write a complaint," Jaygak replied, and she closed her eyes, inhaling sharply in order to refrain from laughing.

Since Jirot was most troublesome of all, another figure approached, and that figure was one of the few who could deal with the likes of the girl, and who just so happened to be someone who could go steel and steel against the likes of Advisor Sword, even if her grandson wouldn't have softened her up during an ill timed rebellion against the Iyr.

"Nano..."

"I see my grandson is about to fight?" Gangak called, reaching out to ruffle her greatdaughter's hair, as a shorter, bald Aswadian appeared, grinning wide towards the girl and boy, reaching out to poke their cheeks.

"I thought, since the Aldishmen wouldn't understand unless I showed them, I should show them first, and then speak my tale."

"You wish to speak your tale?"

"I'll speak a tale that sounds somewhat realistic to them, and have them spread it around, so that way I'll be troubled only lightly, and if someone is going to trouble, they'll be at least a Grandmaster, and I'll be able to farm them that way."

Gangak narrowed her eyes lightly. "I see, for my grandson, it is true that Grandmasters are delicious meals."

"There are some Grandmasters who I won't be able to defeat, but when it comes to Aldishmen, would I lose to any of their Grandmasters?"

"I see, since they are Aldish?"

"Since they are Aldish," Adam confirmed.

The Mountain Tiger of the North held him within his sights, and as the Advisor Sword received her armour, she began to don her steel, though as her eyes glanced aside, towards the half elf, she narrowed her eyes.

"Excuse me, young man, do you not wish to don your armour?"

"I think, instead, I'll fight you without my armour or my axe, otherwise the Mountain Tiger of the North won't understand," Adam said, and as he spoke, he unbuttoned his coat to reveal his shirt, and then pulled his collar down to reveal his under shirt. "You may confirm I am not wearing any armour, and as much as you might not believe me, I am not trained in the way of my grandfather or my grandmother, I wear heavy armour when I go into battle."

"You should wear your armour, for my steel is sharp."

"I will accept every consequence of not wearing my armour," Adam assured, for she didn't know what Adam was capable of. However, he thought about how difficult it was to face a Grandmaster, especially someone like her who probably wielded a magical weapon. 'I shouldn't get too cocky...'

As the woman drew her sword, and a beautiful sword it was, Adam took his place opposite her within the centre of the complex, with a great many Iyrmen watching, those who had not yet seen this Adam fight. They had heard his tales, the true extent of his tales, many of which would remain secret within the Iyr, or at the very least, would not spill out due to their lips, and seeing the way the half elf stood, the atmosphere shifted.

"Do you wish to bet?" a particular old Iyrman, with a wooden arm and leg, asked.

"Will you bet against your grandson?" an Iyrman called.

"I will bet on my grandson."

A few Iyrmen huffed in response, but a few decided to take the odds, for the half elf, against a Grandmaster, unarmed and unarmoured, would find it to be quite the struggle, especially since he did not wear his various defensive magical items, and he seemed to be only facing her with fist, and limited magic, and, equally as importantly, without his magical shield. They had estimated his great strength to come from his great defence, partly because he said so, but without his armour, and since he was no Rage Dancer, no Martial Monk, he would not be able to minimise her strikes against him.

"I will bet on my daddy!" Jirot declared, holding out a hand. "Five thousand gold."

"Five gold," Gangak said.

"Five hundred gold," Jirot dared to say, though as her greatmother's face came into her vision, the girl flushed. "Five... gold."

"Five gold," little Jarot said.

"If that is the case, I will rescind my bet, since little Jirot is a genius, and if she will bet upon her father, certainly he will claim victory," an Iyrman said, throwing a look to the other Iyrmen, and as nearby Iyrmen leaned in to whisper, swiftly they also retreated away from the bets.

They could not allow her to think any of them thought her father could lose.

If his other children were here, perhaps, but in front of these two, they could not.

"Oh?" called a voice, approaching towards the twins, and as his eyes trailed towards the half elf and the woman who he vaguely recognised, and upon seeing the Aldishman, he realised it was the Advisor Sword. "Your father is fighting?"

"Ahm, do you wish to bet against me?"

"Are you betting on the Advisor Sword?"

"Of coas not!"

"Of coas," Korin and little Jarot echoed. "I see, well, I do not wish to lose my gold, for I do not earn enough."

"I will ask my daddy to pay you more."

"I make enough, just not enough to face against you," Korin joked, causing little Jirot to flush.

"Ahm, you are too charming."

Korin smiled, and as he sat beside Afraz, he reached out a hand to poke Little Jarot on his cheek. "Are you betting on your father?"

"Five gold."

"If you bet a silver, I will..." Korin began, but he sighed. "No, I will gift you a silver instead, bcause I cannot bet against your father."

"So charming and so wise," Little Jarot said, smirking playfully, causing Korin to smile.

"I will grant you the first move," Advisor Sword said, pointing her sword towards the half elf.

"Thank you," Adam replied, deciding to show a hint of respect, because soon she would understand that his rudeness was merely fact.

09

Fighting Spirit: 3 -> 2

Spell: Fist (Advantage)

D20 + 9 = 11 (2)

D20 + 9 = 18 (9)

Hit!

Mana: 39 -> 38

Ability: Divine Smite

1D6 + 2D6 + 7 = 23 (6)(10)

23 damage!

Spell: Fist (Advantage)

D20 + 9 = 15 (6)

D20 + 9 = 29 (20)

Critical Hit!

Mana: 38 -> 35

2D6 + 8D6 + 7 = 45 (5)(33)

45 damage!

The glowing white fist was terrifying, Advisor Sword thought, as the half elf’s fist flew through the air, forcing her to dodge, and as a chop aimed for her neck, her armour managed to protect her, and as her blade began to blur through the air, Adam was upon her once more, much to her horror.

Onward Soar: 1 -> 0

Mana: 35 -> 34

Spell: Thunderous Smite

Spell: Fist (Advantage)

D20 + 9 = 23 (14)

D20 + 9 = 24 (15)

Hit!

Mana: 34 -> 33

Ability: Divine Smite

1D6 + 2D6 + 2D6 + 7 = 21 (3)(4)(7)

21 damage!

Spell: Fist (Advantage)

D20 + 9 = 15 (6)

D20 + 9 = 19 (10)

Hit!

Mana: 33 -> 32

Ability: Divine Smite

1D6 + 2D6 + 7 = 14 (3)(4)

14 damage!

Adam’s glowing fists whipped through the air, threatening to deafen the old woman, and as he struck her against her gut, she let out a cough, the thunder echoing through the air, and yet as she coughed, her sword whipped through the air.

Mana: 32 -> 31

Spell: Shield

Defence: 11 -> 16

Health: 140 -> 80

‘I shouldn’t have been so cocky,’ Adam thought, pulling back away from the woman, barely able to keep away from the tip of her graceful sword, which was almost more ferocious than it was graceful. His heart beat violently in his chest, and as he planted his heel firmly in the earth, he realised he had backed away in front of his children.

“I will teach daddy boulder rolling,” Jirot mused, holding her chin, as she watched the sight of her father, unarmoured, unarmed, against the likes of a Grandmaster.

Mulrot, standing within the shadows, having heard her grandson was about to fight, watched carefully. Although she couldn’t see Advisor Sword’s eyes, she could tell the woman was alarmed by Adam’s great might, and the way she moved had shifted. The woman was awkwardly graceful, for her grace came more so from a great strength than the fluidity of one’s finesse.

Fighting Spirit: 2 -> 1

Health: 80 -> 85

D20 + 9 = 13 (4)

D20 + 9 = 18 (9)

Hit!

Mana: 31 -> 30

Ability: Divine Smite

1D6 + 2D6 + 7 = 15 (1)(7)

15 damage!

As the sword whipped through the air once more, Adam stepped forward, and as he twisted his neck, it barely missed his flesh, and as he struck the Advisor Sword onto her gut once more, and as he threatened to step forward, he instead raised his fists, and as Advisor Sword stepped back, raising her sword, she paused a moment, seeing the look within his eyes, and after a moment, her sword slowly fell.

“I have recently been learning to throw a punch thanks to my grandmother,” Adam said, bowing his head lightly.

“Your grandmother's techniques are terrifying,” Advisor Sword admitted, with complete earnestness. The blows of his fists were perhaps even greater than the blows of her blade. She hadn’t realised he was an Oathsworn, although it certainly made sense, however, it seemed as though his fighting style was mixed, a typical Fighter like herself, an Oathsworn, and a Martial Artist?

Adam smiled bashfully, clearing his throat. “Indeed, my grandmother’s fighting style, they are well renowned. You may have heard of her, or her brother, the Ascending Swallow and the Descending Swallow.”

“Ah, yes, I do recall. I believe we were both in the same tournament, though our paths hadn’t crossed at the time.”

Mountain Tiger blinked. It wasn’t as though Advisor Sword was weak, so for her to step back when facing this half elf, it was a surprise. In fact, he was pretty confident he could defeat Advisor Sword, but could he do so without his greatblade? No, certainly not. Yet, this half elf had managed to do so, and he typically wielded heavy armour and a weapon?

‘No one will believe me…’

“My daddy is the strongest...” Jirot mumbled quietly, allowing her words to be taken by the wind, and as she peeked to the side, towards her greatfather, she reached up towards his hand, allowing him to take it, easing his heart.

‘My grandson is so impressive,’ Gangak thought, beaming in such a way that the Iyrmen around could see it evidently enough.

‘I should have expected that much,’ Korin thought, and he considered just how terrifying Adam would have seemed to the Advisor Sword within his armour. ‘Perhaps you should have beaten her in your armour so she did not think you were actually a Fev?’

“It seems you have quite the tale to tell,” Advisor Sword said, sheathing her sword, holding it out for an Iyrman to claim, as she began to take off her armour, though Adam reached out a hand and she paused.

“I would like to heal you, if that’s alright.”

“Please.”

Lay on Hands: 50 -> 30

Adam didn’t want to heal her too much, but this much should at least show his sincerity, and the woman thanked him, before slipping out of her armour. She turned to face Mountain Tiger, who nodded, and as Adam settled himself before his grandparents, spotting Mulrot, he flushed lightly.

“You fought well.”

“It’s all thanks to you, grandmother.”

“You are so talented, you did not need my help.”

“Grandmo-,”

“Nano, how you can say that? Everyone knows it is because he is your grandson that my daddy is so talented!” Jirot declared.

“Is that so?”

“Indeed, it must be so, because I have spoken the words.”

“Ah, indeed, it must be so, because you have spoken the words.”

“I will begin the tale,” Jirot said, flushing lightly, and as the two listened intently to the girl, they understood the situation was complicated, and that they shouldn’t have been here, and this was all perhaps a dream, a dream they should have never had.

The Iyrmen, too, understood, for they finally got to see Adam’s strength, and as Jaygak watched over them, she let out a soft sigh, catching Front Iyr Elder Lykan’s gaze who wondered how she knew Adam would pick a fight with one of them, and not just one of them, specifically Advisor Sword.

‘Is that not why you picked me as the Elder?’ Jaygak thought, smiling wide.

10

“Daddy is so cool, mummy,” little Jirot said, allowing her mother to brush her hair.

“Oh? Daddy is so cool?”

“Daddy is so cool! He beat up Advisor Sword.”

“Daddy is cool because he beat up an old lady?”

“Yeah!” the girl replied with the kind of certainty that suggested she wasn’t entirely listening to her mother’s words, or rather, perhaps had chosen not to understand them.

“I see…” Vonda peeked over her daughter’s head, seeing the girl’s eyes trail up towards her. The girl pulled her head back to smile, towards her mother and Vonda planted a kiss on her forehead, brushing her hair softly.

Little Jarot reached up to apply the lotion to his face lightly, his mother having already brushed his hair, and as he rubbed around his face, his nose, his cheeks and jaw, then around the back of his ears, as his father would often tell him, especially when they bathed. He then reached out to apply the lotion to his sister, who had been too busy speaking the tale to their mother, and he rubbed along her face and the back of her ears too.

“Mummy, daddy, he wears armour, and he wields an axe and a shield, so if he is fighting without armour, and without an axe and a shield, it is more impressive. Daddy, he can use his smiting abilities even without his weapons, and his fists, they are already so strong, but now he is learning from nano,” Jirot said.

“Your father is so impressive, isn’t he?”

“Daddy is impressive, but I will be impressive too, mummy. I am going to learn to fight without armour, and with armour, and without an axe, and with an axe, and without a sword, and with a sword, and I will learn how to use magic, mummy, just like you, just like daddy, and I will become so strong, and then you must listen to me, and daddy must listen to me, and you will have to play with me, and you will not work.”

“Oh? I have to listen to you because you will be strong?”

“Yes.”

“Little Jarot, you must protect me from Jirot, who will grow so strong.”

“Mummy! How you can say this?” Jirot cried aloud, turning her head, pouting towards her mother.

“It is you who threatened me.”

“No, mummy, no, I did not mean it like that, mummy!”

“Ah, I see, I see,” Virot replied, smiling wide, and before her daughter could complain, she leaned in to plant a firm kiss upon her daughter’s forehead.

“Mummy…” Jirot flushed, and she buried her head within her mother’s bosom, wrapping her arms around her mother.

“Mm…”

Jirot looked up, holding her mother’s face within her sight, as little Jarot accepted her mother’s arm, being pulled in beside her. “Mummy?”

“Yes?”

“Is daddy… strong?”

Vonda closed her eyes, for at the same time the girl seemed so earnest, all the while her tone was full of humour. “I suppose that father of yours, he is cool, and he is strong, and he is wise.”

“Mummy, let us not go too far…”

“He married me, didn’t he?”

“Mnn…” Jirot relented, hugging her mother tighter. “Mummy, you cannot say I said that to daddy.”

“Okay…” Vonda’s eyes trailed to little Jarot, and the two smirked between one another. “Of course, my dear.”

“Of coas,” came the echo.

It was at that time Adam sat opposite his triplets, and his aura overwhelmed them, and yet Konarot remained standing in front of her father, her arms crossed. “It seems… I have lost?”

“Lay down, daddy,” Konarot commanded, and as the half elf let out a soft sigh, he lay against the pillows, and Konarot climbed on top of her father’s chest, and Kirot and Karot claimed an arm each. “How you can say this, daddy?”

“My bad, my bad.”

“Daddy is bad,” Konarot confirmed.

“Well, hold on a second!” Adam leaned in to nuzzle her forehead. “Are you picking a fight with me?”

“You think you can defeat me now, daddy? I am learning from babo, and nano.”

“Are you learning from nano Gangak too?”

“No! Nano Mulrot!”

“I will ask nano Gangak to train you, because you are her greatchildren too,” Adam said. “Who else did you get your horns from?”

Konarot blinked. She nodded her head, and she rested her head against her father’s chest once more.

Adam melted under his triplets, and as he closed his eyes, he thought back to the fight. It was his unique ability which allowed him to explode with so much strength at once, but she, too, as a Fighter, was able to deal quite some damage to him. However, he was Level 10, and his Health was beyond that of a typical Grandmaster. Even so, he was too weak, if he was Level 11, he was fairly certain he’d get access to a third Attack, and then his damage output would increase close to an additional half.

‘I should be careful fighting without my armour too,’ Adam thought. ‘Although, one day, probably, I’ll learn the way of grandmother’s fighting properly, and then I won’t be able to use my armour. No, it’s not quite like that is it? In my armour, I’ll have my great Defence score, the kind even Dragon Turtles would cry for, whereas outside of my armour, I’ll be really quick, and I’ll be able to dodge and run with ease.’

Adam opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, and as he felt the gentle breaths of his children, he peeked down to each of them, who were also beginning to learn from their babos and nanos. He wondered what kind of way of fighting they would learn. As his children, wouldn’t they also be able to wield all kinds of fighting? Ah, no? Did they even have Bell to watch over them?

‘Hey, Bell?’

[…]

‘Seriously…’ Adam let out a soft sigh. ‘When it comes to my children, shouldn’t you respond?’

[Yes?]