Breaking Step, Draft 1, CH 41 (Patreon)

“That’s the hero?” a man a few years older than Lamberto said, stepping forward. His tone was filled with sneer. “He’s so… small.” His jacket was red with gold thread and black highlights with emeralds adorning it. His element was water, and like Lamberto, he was Upsilon.

Three others stood a few steps behind him. Tibs marked the woman as a sorceress, by the golden robe with black highlights. Her eyes were the same golden. The man next to her had metal his is element, but with so much darkness in his essence, Tibs trusted him even less than anyone else here. The one on her other side had light as his element.

“Palden,” Lamberto said in a chastising tone, “it isn’t the size of someone that dictates their valor.”

Palden gave Lamberto an amused look. “And isn’t that fortunate for you?”

Great. Tibs was going to be used in nobles validating their egos.

“I heard you burned down part of the city,” the metal user said, his gaze calculating.

“Look at my eyes,” Tibs replied before he could think better of it, controlling his guild. He was supposed to be nice to them. Make them want to run this dungeon. But they weren’t going to make it easy on him.

“So?” the man snorted. “There are other ways to burn things down.” The man spoke from experience, Tibs was sure of it.

“How does a boy like you manage to claim a title like hero?” the sorceress asked. “Let alone of the dungeon.” She looked at the light use. “How does one become the hero to a dungeon? Why would anyone want that?”

“It’s savior, Gabrielle,” the man with light as his element replied. “But I wonder the same. Why would anyone save one of those things?”

“So we can train?” Lamberto replied. “Do you want to go through life barely improving? That’s what going to happen without a dungeon.”

“That’s what the guild wants us to think,” the man said. “So they’ll continue to lord the dungeons over us. We shouldn’t be paying them for the honor of training. They should be begging us to honor them with our presence. They’re just—”

“Perhaps you should be mindful of what you say about our hosts,” a man in gray said, joining them, “in the presence of their representative, Carlan.” He was the epsilon Earth user. He bowed to Tibs. “I am Theodore Galdain. I bid you welcome to my home, and pray you’re forgive my children. The need to move has been a strain on them.”

“I’m sure it has,” Tibs replied as neutrally as possible. There was no light around anything the man said, so the need was real and not an exaggeration.

“And why, father, did the guild send th—him, instead of someone meaningful?” Palden asked.

“Because he’ll be taking us through the dungeon,” Lamberto exclaimed.

Palden looked at his father. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. His team is among one of the few original once to have survived this long, and Tibs himself has to his name not only the claim of saving the dungeon and protecting the city, but he was the first to unlock the door to the second floor, as well as to discover the shortcuts that lets you bypass a floor once you’re ready.”

Palden walked away, muttering, “I am doomed to linger in obscurity.”

“Ignore him,” Lamberto said, “he wouldn’t know a good thing if someone slipped it into his purse. Our runs are going to be great, I just know it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Theodore said, smiling. “And with Tibs to guide you through the dungeon, you’ll all be Epsilon in no time.”

“Why is he even still here,” Gabrielle said, “if he’s so good? Why isn’t he Epsilon already and out saving the world?” the mockery was thick.

“Don’t you know anything?” Lamberto said. “Tibs had to work harder and anyone to get where he is. He started without essence.”

“We all do,” metal user said, rolling his eyes.

“No,” Lamberto insisted. “Even once he had his element. He didn’t get any essence. His eyes didn’t change color. He had to do his runs with nothing for his wits and skills.”

“You’ve been lied to, Lambert, again,” Gabrielle said. “Everyone knows that as soon as you get your element, your eyes change color and you can wield that essence.”

“Tell her,” Lamberto told Tibs.

Tibs struggled to remain in place. The door to the outside called to him. The roofs, where he’d be alone, did too. Anywhere but here. Especially with that noble putting him on the spot for his own entertainment.

Gabrielle and Carlan, along with their father, watched him attentively. Part of the crowd had also moved closer, parting to let the departing metal user pass.

“I’m told,” Tibs said, barely managing not to grit his teeth, “that I’m the younger Runner to survive the dungeon and get his element.” He was careful in how he said things. He wanted to minimize the chances they’d turn his word against him. And while he doubted Carlan knew enough to tell lies through his element, Tibs wasn’t taking the chances. He needed to take with a light user to find out when they learned that.

“Because of that, after my audience with Water, my eyes didn’t change color, and it took time until I had enough of a reserve to do much with the essence I had.”

Lamberto straightened and puffed out his chest, as if he’d accomplished some impossible task in getting Tibs to say this much.

The light user smirked. “You want a copper for that story?” he looked at his father. “Really? You’re saddling us with that? Some kid who has to lie to make himself feel important?”

“I didn’t lie,” Tibs said through gritted teeth.

“Let me tell you something you clearly don’t know,” Carlan said, stepping forward. “Light is my element. You can lie to me. Lies shine bright, and right now, your words are blinding me.”

“More like yours,” Tibs replied, and the man stiffened. “Our previous guard leader had light as his element. And plenty of people lied to him. I did a time or two, and he’s Gamma. Are you even Upsilon?”

“Don’t you—” Carlan’s hand was raised, its back aimed at Tibs’s face, but his father caught it.

“I will not have you hit a guest and tarnish my name.” The man glared at his son. “I taught you better.”

“Yes, Father,” Carlan replied, glaring at Tibs. If his father noticed the look, he didn’t react. When his father let go of his hand, Carlan turned and he pushed his way through the crowds.

Theodore faced Tibs. “While he asked for it, I’d appreciate it if you refrained from baiting my children. They aren’t the hardened Runners that you are, so they require a more measured handling.”

“Father,” Lamberto whine, “We’re not children anymore. I don’t need Tibs holding my hand.”

Good, Tibs thought, because he might not be able to resist throwing the man to the rats in the boulder room.

“Tibs will do what is needed to ensure you survive,” his father stated. “If that means holding your hand, then you will let him do that, is that clear?” He looked at the close by crown. “Alright, let’s get back to enjoying ourself. I’m certain that Tibs will be happy to answer you questions as he mingles.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and disappeared into the crowd.

“Come on,” Lamberto said, “I want to introduce you to my friends.” He nearly grabbed Tibs’s arm, but walked to a cluster of younger people. They noticed them, turned in their direction, studying Tibs.

Lamberto gave names, but Tibs didn’t pay attention. He was busy controlling his anger at the judgmental looks they were giving him. He shouldn’t care. He knew that. They were nobles and didn’t matter to him. But they weren’t that much older than he was, but they looked at him like he knew nothing of the world.

“Show us what you can do,” Lamberto said. “With your element.” Tibs looked at the boy while he tried to understand what he meant. “Henley doesn’t believe that you have an element.” He indicated a man Tibs could only describe as mousy, although the predatory look reminded him more of a rat.

Tibs nearly refused. He didn’t care what he or anyone else believed he could do. But he was here to make a good impression. And he should have realized it would involve displaying his element.

He extended his hand and moved water over it.

Mousy snorted. “So your hand’s wet.”

Tibs turned his palm up, pulled the water to it, then raised the ball until it floated over his hand. He smirked at the stunned expression. He moved his hand, and the ball dropped. He absorbed the essence before it hit the floor.

He almost rolled his eyes at the surprise in their eyes, then that was quickly covered and they were looking down at him. Some in anger, like he’d conned them, and they’d caught on to him.

“Is that all you can do?” a woman asked, and Tibs turned. He was tall and looked down at him with an air of disinterest that belied the question. “I mean, they say you are some hero. Can heroes just play with water?”

Tibs flicked his hand up and iced the water as it flew out of his fingers, then caught the jagged knife. 

She raised an eyebrow. “How, impressive.”

Tibs wondered if she’d be impressed with it planted in her stomach and ice spreading through her body.

“Can you make a sculpture?” a man said. “I’d love to see myself made of ice.”

Tibs remembered turning Sebastian into ice, piece by piece. Ice cracked when he turned a lot of water into it. If he did that to this noble, would he shatter without Tibs having to do more?

“Tibs’s a Runner,” Lamberto said, sounding offended. “Not an artist.”

“Yes, of course,” the noble said, amused. “How silly of me.” He looked the crowd over. “Theo, can I bother a servant for a large plate? I would like to see a demonstration of this,” he considered Tibs, “you man’s ability and he will require a target.”

“That is a splendid idea,” Theodore answered, then motioned to a servant. A silver plate close to half Tibs’s height was carried by two servants, then held it between them on the other side of the room, facing Tibs.

The man smiled at Tibs. “Do you think you can manage to hit that?”

Tibs flung the knife without looking, hardening it as he flew and mentally keeping it on target. Now was not the time to let his poor aim come into play.

It hit and pierced the plate, stopping at the guard. The plate’s reverberation sounded in the silenced room.

The noble looked at the target, then Tibs. “Yes, I suppose that was something of an easy target. Do we have anything more appropriate for his obvious skills?” he asked.

“How about this?” someone called out, lifting a dinner plate.

The man nodded and motioned for Tibs to act.

Tibs considered the situation, figure he’d have to extract something from Tirania, for her getting him into this, then made a knife and etched an ‘x’. He channeled the smallest amount of essence through it, and the jet of water flung the plate out of the man’s hand.

“Do that again,” Lamberto exclaimed, grinning.

With a roll of the eyes, Tibs looked to the other side of the room, where a handful of people held items as targets. Three ‘x’ in succession had three plates clattering away. For the crystal goblet, Tibs sent a whip of water, with Ank and Bor written within it. When it hit, the water coated the goblet and Tibs pulled, recalling the water, and it flung it in his direction. The water hit his hand, and then he held the goblet.

There was silence, then applauses.