Isekai-eh Chapter-22 (Patreon)

Jed had expected the training to include firearms or maybe some sort of hand to hand combat.

He hadn’t been prepared for running.

Not just any running though. Metsa had arranged for them to have an entire warehouse set aside as an obstacle course. Considering the complexity of the course, he doubted it was simply for him and Gwen.

There was no way they would’ve had it ready so fast if that was the case. Nor could he see much use in some of the obstacles, such as the spaced apart footholds along one wall that went nearly fifty feet up before reaching a thin beam that ran just under the support structure at the top.

Metsa didn’t give them much time to inspect it, having them strip down and start.

As he struggled to pull himself up the rope along a near vertical climbing wall, he cursed the last ten years trapped on the station. He’d been top of the class back in high school. When he’d crashed through the snow, he could’ve overhanded the rope, not even needing his legs for support.

Now he very much did.

The course drove in just how out of shape he’d let himself get.

“Not bad,” Metsa said a few minutes later as Jed walked past her, letting his heart slow instead of collapsing like his body was trying to insist on.

“Not bad? I finished in half the time and you just grunted and told me to run again,” Gwen said from atop the stack of exercise mats where she was sitting nearby, having lapped him near the end.

“You’ve been working as an active hunter for the last year. If your performance had been any worse, I’d have made you run it a third time, carrying me on your back,” Metsa said, arms crossed.

Jed felt as though he didn’t deserve the glare Gwen sent his way in response to Metsa’s comment.

After another couple minutes of walking, Jed rubbed his hands together. “So what’s next? Are we doing it again?”

Metsa raised an eyebrow at him, but glanced over to where Sotas was still working to set out mats in a sort of circle. “Soon as Sotas is ready, we’ll start on positional awareness training. Then we’ll have you run the ring until you’re exhausted and call it a day. There’s only so much we can work your bodies and have it be productive.”

Jed nodded as he took a seat on the balancing log that sat at the start of the course, a few feet from where Metsa was standing.

Eventually, Sotas finished his arrangements, calling them over.

“These flags, they are the same colors as most common warp-fire,” Sotas said, holding up an array of flags. “Not all are same, but enough. You will learn which to dodge, which to kill before they can strike, and which you can block with your shroud.”

The first run had Jed standing in place with his eyes blindfolded, Gwen watching and Mythlyn’s revolver resting on a nearby bench.

“Red, right,” Gwen called, prompting Jed to dodge left and slamming into a solid wall.

“Good response, friend Jed,” Sotas said, his hand wrapping around Jed’s wrist and pulling him to his feet. “But training partner Gwen, you warned him from your right, not his. A mistake, I think.”

“That’s going to get so confusing,” Gwen grumbled. “Can we try again?”

“We will try many times,” Sotas said, chuckling with what Jed would soon learn was sinister amusement. “Until you do not make this mistake.”

While Gwen took a while to adjust to the directions, it took Jed just as long to get used to yelling them. Saying them was easy, but as Sotas pointed out, “If a Shrieker is in your ear, hearing is not so easy.”

Yelling wasn’t something Jed had a lot of practice with. It was almost blasphemous around his pops.

After half an hour Jed felt like his voice was almost dead.

Which was when Sotas decided to switch up the exercise. The flags remained the same, but now they took turns trying to notice and react appropriately on their own, without anyone calling it out for them.

This was almost too easy for Jed, who could track Sotas with his warp-sense, so always knew where the man would appear.

“This, I think, needs to be modified,” Sotas said after half an hour. “You are reacting to the warp. Not all enemies will have such power.”

“Can’t turn it off,” Jed said with a shrug.

“Will have partners who do this. Will not cost much,” Sotas said, nodding.

After another round, it was back to the obstacle course.

Not long after, Sotas called for a break. Once Jed had recovered, it was back to the obstacle course.

In the evening, they were given free time every other night. On the other nights the practice was more casual as they ate together, played games and swapped stories.

They spent a full week doing the simple exercises before Metsa deemed them ready for more advanced training, Gwen grumbling the entire time.

The more advanced training included sessions where they worked on individual skills. For Jed he spent this time working on his warp manipulation.

Getting the warp to cooperate was… challenging.

Affecting Mythlyn’s flames was nearly impossible. It was only when he tried manipulating the wireframe projected from his chest that he saw any sort of results. A sort of double awareness that sent him racing to throw up.

“The hell was that?” Metsa asked, arms crossed as she glared down at him.

“Finally got it to work. Kinda,” Jed said, wiping his mouth clean and climbing to his feet. “But it made me dizzy.”

“Didn’t see a damn thing other than your usual fancy lightshow.”

“I think… I think I opened a portal,” Jed said as he pulled his shirt open again.

The wireframe snapped back into place.

“A portal? That could be…”

Focusing, Jed connected two points on opposite sides of the circle he’d used as his reference point. Again, his perception shifted, though it was easier to handle the second time around.

Metsa held her finger up next to the flickering cyan portal, chuckling. The portal wasn’t even the size of her fingernail. “Think that’s going to need some work.”

“Just keeping it open is-” the portal winked out, and Jed found his head pounding, the wireframe flickering.

“Looks like you pushed too hard. Warp effects draw on your focus,” Metsa said, tapping Jed’s head, making his vision swim. “Push it too hard, you leave yourself helpless. Push it far enough and it’ll kill you.”

“You ever pushed that hard?”

“Still alive, ain’t I? Don’t do last stands,” Metsa said, shaking her head.

Jed nodded.

The next day involved guns. Specifically, drawing them.

“Gun in your holster’s useless if you can’t draw it in time,” Metsa said, pacing in front of them. “There’s a million tricks, but the most reliable is to know your holster, know your gun, know your arm.”

Beside him, Gwen’s hand kept drifting to her hip before pulling away.

“So, starting today we’re gonna do draw drills, until you can pull your gun free fast enough to matter,” Metsa said, stopping to glare at them. “Well, get to it.”

Jed obliged, reaching down and drawing as fast as he could. He was feeling pretty good about it until he looked up to find Metsa’s finger pressed against his forehead. “Bang. You’re dead. Also, don’t look at the damn thing.”

The snicker from Gwen was the insult icing on the cake. Gritting his teeth, Jed nodded and Metsa ran them through it again. And again.

After a couple days, they added drawing their weapon randomly to the obstacle course. Thankfully, there they were using replicas Metsa had commissioned.

After their second week of training, Metsa had them run the course with live rounds, shooting targets as they went. Jed was grateful there were no witnesses, because it turned out it was a lot harder to shoot a revolver after sprinting for half an hour than he’d expected.

And he’d expected it to be hard.

The next day, Sotas started having them shoot targets blindfolded, based on their partner’s calls. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of his life until he realized Sotas was capable of moving faster he could, and would keep him from hitting anyone.

Unfortunately, for that, there were plenty of witnesses.

Still, they improved. Faster than Jed would’ve thought possible. Mythlyn attributed it to their enhanced bodies and the rich warp-wrought foods they were eating by the kilo.

The morning after they’d done the partner blind-shooting, Sotas brought them to the mechanic shop instead of the warehouse. It was time for very different training. Methods to produce ammo in the field.

“When far from home, is good to not run dry,” the large man said as he held up a bag full of empty casings. “Today, you learn to refill your ammo.”

The process was simpler than Jed had been expecting. The casings he’d been ignoring were reusable. They simply needed a new bullet and replacement RDR.

“These things use the same material you use to drive?” Jed asked, flicking the solid casing.

“Is not the same,” Sotas said, shaking his head. “Add two parts water for bullets.”

“Yeah, I got that, it’s just…” Jed shrugged. He supposed that if it worked, it worked. “So, how are we supposed to make the bullets?”

The lessons that followed were of middling use, since neither he nor Gwen had the large man’s strength. Thankfully Metsa showed up halfway and showed them how to use some of the more common tools they could expect to find out in the hex to make bullets out of softer metals.

Jed thought her definition of softer might need some work, since she included inch-thick steel rod he could barely bend in her description. After that first lesson, producing ammo was made a regular part of their training.

For one particularly memorable run through the obstacle course, Metsa made them scrounge cases and assemble ammo while timing them, with them ‘dying’ if they were too slow.

They died three times before passing the course and going home and directly to bed.

A full month after they’d started, it was almost time for a hunt of their own. After another night of games.

“To be a hunter, you must be part of the hunters,” Sotas said as he dealt them a hand of cards similar to those Jed was used to back home, though they had five suits with ten cards per suit. “To be outside, is to be left behind.”

“That only matters if you hunt with a team,” Gwen grumbled.

“A partner is good. Hunters with partners live long lives,” Sotas said smiling over at Metsa. “But sometimes a big team is needed. Not being a curdled puff is good, then, I think.”

Jed smiled, glancing over at their resident curdled puff, whose expression had twisted as she grasped that the big man had been referring to her.

“What’re you laughing at?” Gwen asked, shoving Jed’s arm.

“Wasn’t laughing,” Jed said, though now that he’d been called on it he couldn’t resist a chuckle. Then he laid his cards down. “But I think this is a… what was it called, the death’s hand?”

“And he wins another round,” Gwen said, glaring at Jed’s cards. “How many is that?”

“About half,” Metsa replied, eyes narrowed as she looked at Jed.

“Uh oh, she knows I’ve been cheating,” Mythlyn sent, imbuing the thought with a wicked cackle. Jed rolled his eyes at her words. All she’d done was deliberately attempt to get him to play the wrong hands.

“It’s all math,” Jed said, shrugging.

“It’s the Death’s Dance. How is that math?” Gwen demanded, throwing down a hand that could’ve beaten his, if she’d chosen one of the other discards and thrown away her high card.

So, Jed explained card counting, then explained how Metsa preferred dramatic hands, Sotas preferred single suits, and that Gwen was just going with whatever felt right. “Which makes you the hardest to predict,” Jed admitted, shrugging.

“And I’m done,” Metsa said, pushing her cards away with a wry chuckle. “Glad we didn’t have any real stakes riding on this, kid would’ve cleaned us out.”

“It is good, to have our patterns explained,” Sotas said as he laid down his hand of Guns. “Though against most, my strategy, it is good.”

“Hate to say it big guy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if people let you win,” Jed said as he collected the cards and shuffled them back together. They were closer to square than he was used to, but that wasn’t too much of a hassle.

“This too is good, yes?” Sotas said, flexing his arm and causing his muscles to ripple, earning a round of laughter. “A win is a win.”

“That’s not math,” Gwen said after the laugher had died down. “That’s reading people.”

“Reading their patterns,” Jed said, nodding his agreement. “People are a lot more complicated than our patterns, way I see it. For instance, now that I’ve pointed out what I saw, Metsa will probably find a way to use it against me.”

“Damn right I will,” Metsa grumbled even as Sotas put his hands on her shoulders, starting a massage.

“I have no idea what you were thinking. Or Metsa or Sotas. Just what patterns you were using,” Jed said, shrugging as he slid the cards back into the black lacquered box Metsa had pulled them out of. “And patterns are the basis for math.”

“Was thinking was having a hard time getting guns,” Sotas said as his hands worked Metsa’s shoulders. “Is because Jed was not sharing.”

“Don’t worry. I keep my hoarding to games,” Jed said as he slid the box across the table towards Metsa.

“Is good to have something you are better at,” Sotas said, grinning. “Since you are not such a good runner.”

“His aim’s not as good as I expected either,” Metsa said, sighing contentedly as she leaned back into Sotas’ touch with closed eyes. “Unless he has time to prepare, which warp demons don’t like to give us.”

“It is sad truth,” Sotas agreed.

“Still, not bad for a skyfaller, I’d say.”

“A… what?” Gwen asked, sitting back down halfway through standing.

“Ah, right,” Metsa said, still not opening her eyes. “Shit.”

“It is my fault. Massaging while conversing always loosens your tongue, it is known,” Sotas said, though he didn’t stop.

“Yep, I fell from the sky. And I think you’ve been with us long enough to know more,” Jed said, pushing up from the table and heading towards the little drink bar that sat again the side of the living room. “Drink?”

Gwen stared at him for a second before asking for the same thing she usually had, a mixed fruit juice with a bit of kick. Only as he returned to his seat did she ask her first question. Jed did his best to remain honest, though he admitted more than once that he wasn’t going to talk about it unless Metsa said he should.

“I am not even close to being in the right headspace to make important decisions,” Metsa said, face hidden behind her ringlet hair as she waved a hand in their general direction. “But she’s kept her mouth so far, and she’s Gerty’s daughter. Knows what it means to betray a fellow hunter’s trust. Up to you how much to trust her with.”

“I say we tell her everything. Reveal my presence and see how she reacts. And then if she tries to turn us in, we can kill her, before you grow too fond of her.”

Jed fought the urge to roll his eyes at Mythlyn’s addition, though he realized Metsa had bounced the ball back into his court and Gwen’s curiosity was written plain across her face.

“Well, let’s start with the big one, I guess,” Jed said, pulling out the revolver where Mythlyn resided and setting it on the floor in front of the couches.

With a flash of purple-black warpfire, Mythlyn appeared, already curtsying. “Greetings Gwen. I’m Mythlyn.”

“Wait… you don’t just talk to your gun?” Gwen said, staring at Jed instead of the literal archangel that had appeared.

“Told you people would think I’m crazy,” he said, pointing at Mythlyn.

Which was when Gwen took a closer look at the warp-angel. “Wait… don’t I know you?”

“It’s possible you recognize me from some of my previous work,” Mythlyn said, striking a pose with one hand facing towards the ceiling, arks of purple-black warp-fire stretching from her fingertips upward towards the transparent ceiling.

“Do not damage skylight. Is expensive to fix,” Sotas said even as he nudged a mumbling Metsa onto her stomach.

“Still not getting it,” Gwen said as Mythlyn retracted the flames, brushing off her toga.

“She’s the…” Metsa started to answer, but her words turned into incoherent mumbling as Sotas really got to work.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Jed said, swirling his own drink, which was a nice tart cider that didn’t resemble any of the puddings they’d had on the station. “Handmaidens.”

Gwen continued to stare blankly at Mythlyn even as the latter moved over to the bar to mix her own drink. An activity she’d only had a couple opportunities to indulge in, with Gwen tagging along so often. Then she let out a small gasp. “Oh… ohhhhh.”

“There it is,” Mythlyn said with smug satisfaction.

“She’s a warp-demon made to look like one of the handmaidens,” Gwen said, nodding.

“That… how do you even get to that conclusion?” Mythlyn demanded as she paused her work to glare at Gwen.

“Well, you look like Mythlyn, the archangel of death, only you obviously can’t be her, because, you know, none of us are writhing around on the ground as the skin melts from our bones,” Gwen said, swirling her drink.

“Oh, I like her, she has class,” Mythlyn said as she finished her work behind the bar, emerging with a drink that had garnishes reaching half a foot about the glass.

“And I’m pretty sure an archangel can’t just be bound against their will to a relic, no matter how nice the gun.” Gwen continued, tapping the edge of her glass. “So, yeah. Only other thing that makes sense is someone figured out how to reshape a warp-demon into the likeness of Mythlyn and make her into some sort of deviant sextoy slash weapon.”

“Why does everyone think we’re having sex?” Jed asked Mythlyn even as she came over and sat down in his lap. “Not helping.”

“Oh, but darling, don’t you want to take me into your room and use me?” Mythlyn teased, grabbing Jed’s collar and folding it up.

“Haha,” he said, raising himself just enough to cause her to slip off with an undignified ‘meep’ before straightening out his collar.

“Pretty sure she’s…” Metsa said, words getting muffled again as her face went back into the couch.

“My love speaks sense. I also believe she is the real Mythlyn,” Sotas clarified.

“Then that would mean…” Gwen trailed off as Jed and Mythlyn playfully bickered with each other, Mythlyn pouting as she took the seat next to him.

“And this isn’t even the annoying secret,” Metsa managed to say, voice clear for once.

Gwen stared silently at her glass for a moment. Then with a sigh, she shook her head. “So… what else is there?”

Jed shrugged as he put Mythlyn into a headlock, keeping her from ‘accidentally’ falling into his lap again. Then he reached for his chest, sliding his fingers over the portion that controlled the glow, causing the cyan warp-fire to burst through the white shirt he was wearing, filling the area over the table.

“I’m also a Written.”