105. The Pretjordian (Part 2)

  Serac had long made peace with the fact that she couldn’t swim.

  She tried. She really did. But try as she might, she couldn’t overcome the limitations inherent to her biology.

  It was simply impossible for her not to sink in water, and no amount of persistence nor creativity could ever change that fact. Unless Serac could somehow morph into something other than a dense-boned Rakshasa, she would never be a swimmer, and that was that.

  And so, it fell to her to learn the next best thing: turtleback riding. Gone was the scaredy newcomer who’d lain flat on her stomach as she clung to a slippery shell for dear life. In her place sat a confident rider with many a turtleback excursion under her belt, unafraid and ready to go.

  But first, even a confident rider needed to know where she was going. To that end, Serac sucked in a deep breath and dunked her head into the river.

  [Wayfarer Status Effect: HYPOXIA]

  Pathsight dutifully informed her of the risk of suffocation, but Serac wasn’t worried about that. If anything, the water’s icy coldness was a much more painful and immediate concern—enough to inflict a small damage-over-time effect:

  [5!], [7!], [3!], [4!], …

  Just one of the many drawbacks of having to use one’s horns to read the ripples. Yet, funnily enough, the ripples themselves were much easier to read underwater, even for a Rakshasa novice. And it took her no time to identify a fast-moving packet of turbulence, headed upstream relative to the Wayfarers’ position.

  Serac resurfaced to gulp down another mouthful of oxygen, bracing against the biting wintry air as she did. At the same time, she gestured at Zacko, signaling exactly where she wanted their turtle-boat to go.

  [The Second Dao—FAN]

  Yes. In the time Serac had become a water-averse waterfarer, Zacko had mastered the art of oar-less oaring. On this occasion, he dipped his NINEFOLD palm into the river before pushing in the opposite direction as indicated by Serac, thereby granting their turtle a powerful surge of speed.

  The idea, of course, had come from watching the Tomasen twins. It wasn’t quite the motor engine of the OG [Breakaway] technique, nor could it be maintained over as long a distance. But what Zacko lacked in sustained velocity, he made up for with versatility and change of direction.

  Thus, the navigator-rower partnership was back on, and so was the chase. Serac to read the ripples and give out ‘coordinates’. Zacko to drive the turtle every which way.

  To any outside observer, their head-dunking and water-chopping antics might (would) have looked bizarre, if not downright comical. But outrealm problems required outrealmish solutions, and right now, results were all that mattered.

  The Nokken was just as fast underwater as it was on land, but there was a limit to its Stamina reserves. While it had to keep itself in constant motion, its hunters shared the load between two Wayfarers and one turtle. As such, whether intentionally or not, Serac and Zacko had tapped into the age-old hunting technique of wearing down their prey with superior endurance.

  Driven to the end of its ropes, the Nokken tried a last, desperate gambit: that of making a sharp 180 and darting downstream from underneath the turtle’s plastron. However, such a dramatic movement also produced the ‘loudest’ ripples yet, allowing Serac to stay right on top of it. She gave the signal, and Zacko immediately responded with:

  [The Seventh Dao—STAFF]

  A sweep of the leg to turn the ship around, followed quickly by [Fan] to stay on the Nokken’s tail. It did the trick. As Serac dipped under for one more survey, she ‘read’ right away that her exhausted prey had slowed precipitously. Now, all that was left was the smiting—

  A violent surge in the ripples. So startling as to force Serac to open her eyes underwater—just in time to see the Nokken in its full, aquatic glory.

  Even through a cloud of bubbles and debris, the Nokken’s hybrid tree-dugong form was unmistakable. Where the horse had been a slender construction of branches and vines, the dugong had a more streamlined, unitary appearance—like a tree log that could somehow glide and undulate at speed.

  Oh, and it could also open its trunk-like snout to reveal its ring of razor-sharp teeth, all of which were imbued with mossy, Zealous energy. The Nokken now went up for the reverse kill, darting straight for the turtle’s underside.

  So, faced with an ignoble death at the end of a failed escape, the cowardly Wildspawn had doffed its camouflage and chosen to fight back with its last breath. Serac could certainly respect that. And respectfully, gratefully, she answered violence with violence.

  The Rakshasa couldn’t swim, but she could certainly sink with the best of them. Without hesitation, Serac jumped off her turtle and threw her whole body into the river. If dunking her face had been unpleasant, it was nothing compared to the frigid water rushing through her whole body, and on that count, Pathsight seemed to be in agreement:

  [12!], [11!], [9!], [12!], …

  The DoT had increased in intensity, but Serac paid it no mind. Right now, her direct opponent had the whole of her respect and attention.

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  How might a fast-sinking Rakshasa—a gunslinger, no less—fight underwater? Why, with her Auxiliary, of course!

  For all its potential uses, PULVERIZER received too little love from its wielder, who could be guilty of a bit of tunnel vision when it came to the tools at her disposal. But she made every effort to rectify that now, as she met the Nokken’s last-gasp charge with a shield in its face.

  [337!]

  Any stealthy predator worth its salt had to make their finishers count, and the Nokken was no exception. It hit hard, and were it not for mitigation by PULVERIZER and Serac’s own base profile, the damage could well have flirted with one-shot territory.

  As it stood, Serac was able to survive the attempted bite and dish back a healthy dose of Poise damage in return. The Nokken visibly staggered as its teeth ran into an Infernal rock-vambrace—not quite a Poise-break, but certainly an opening for Serac to punish.

  [Auxiliary Technique: THE GRIND]

  [278!]

  And that—finally—proved to be the smiting blow.

  Along with the depletion of the Nokken’s HP, its tree-dugong body erupted into shreds and splinters—as if it’d been run through a woodchipper. The woodchips spread and floated in the water, but only for a Ksana, before they all turned into Dust of a more metaphysical variety.

  [3,200 ?]

  One drawback of the navigator-rower system was that, quite often, the Karma reward went entirely to the former. Serac wouldn’t have been able to deal any of her damage without Zacko’s tireless assistance, but Pathsight neither knew nor cared. A moderate annoyance, but nothing they couldn’t adjust for with their other smites.

  Welp, at least Trippy would be happy about this. Oh, and at least Zacko isn’t the one who has to wait to be rescued.

  Yes. As had become routine by now, Serac spread out her limbs and made herself go limp (but not before grabbing the fruit of her [Harvest]: a still-beating heart made entirely of wood). She closed her eyes and forced herself to ignore the freezing water, the associated DoT, and the light-green of her [Oxygen] gauge racing towards zero. Then, she waited to be rescued.

  This time two months ago, she would’ve flailed and kicked, only to make herself sink even faster. Compared to that, she supposed, floating helplessly could be considered a marked improvement.

  It’s still not ideal, though, she had the time to reflect. If another enemy were to come for me now, I’d be a sitting duck. Or a ‘stranded guppy’, as Petey might say. Man, if only I could have a land form and an aquatic form, too. O mighty Nokken, won’t you teach me your ways?

  On this occasion, the only other presence that came for her was Zacko, he of the Manusya biology and the ability to at least function underwater. He wrapped Serac’s limp body in one muscular arm before kicking off towards the surface. It took some doing, but the two of them eventually made it back onto turtleback.

  Back in the world of lung users, the Wayfarers gave themselves a minute to catch their breaths. Prey smited, ingredient [Harvested], and job done, the only thing they needed to face now were the elements.

  One major drawback of Serac’s winter clothes was what a nuisance they became when wet. Not only did her cloak weigh her down, but her soggy underlayers now severely accentuated the cold.

  And the sight of Zacko across from her only made things worse. The man’s answer to winter had been to change from his sleeveless tunic to… another sleeveless tunic, just with nicer material and dyed a striking emerald green. He claimed the choice was solely to facilitate his NINEFOLD techniques, but Serac rather suspected his narcissism to be a non-insignificant factor.

  Shivering from head to toe, Serac nevertheless forced herself to stand, while also giving Zacko a hand to do the same. The Wayfarers might have it bad, but their cold-blooded turtle was suffering just as much, if not more. It was time to hustle back onto land and resummon the most reliable protection against the elements they had at their disposal.

  In the last two months, Ashvanaga’s interior too had undergone a minor renovation. With the help of Rotgardian carpenters, Serac’s steed now came equipped with a proper storage cabinet, useful for storing food, ingredients, and other knick-knacks. Perhaps more vitally, at least for the next little while, one corner of the cabin had been converted into a fireplace.

  Presently, Rakshasa and Manusya (and turtle) all huddled up in the same corner to warm themselves. And once their teeth had stopped their chattering, the Wayfarers could discuss their next steps.

  “Got anything else on our shopping list?” Zacko asked.

  “Don’t think so,” Serac said, then held up the Nokken’s wooden heart for inspection, careful not to bring it too close to the fire. “This right here is the last ingredient Petey asked for. With this, he should be able to cook up this legendary lure he keeps going on about. And just in time for tomorrow.”

  “Right, ri—gh—t,” Zacko said, drawing out his second word with a yawn. “And remind me, what’s tomorrow again?”

  Serac too had been growing sleepy by the fireplace, and even more so after seeing Zacko yawn. But hearing his flippant question snapped her wide awake, as she answered in a huff:

  “Do you ever listen? The Realmhunt is tomorrow! It’s only the talk of the town!”

  “So it’s a big day for the locals. Why do we care, though?”

  “Well, it’s not called the Realmhunt for nothing. It draws a crowd from all over: Roots, Trunk, even the Crown. Everyone’s gonna be there, especially because it’s the first one they’ve been able to have in years.”

  “I’m surprised, princess. You sound just like a Pretjordian.”

  “And I’m surprised you don’t. Get your head in the game, Zacko! This is important because—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Because Shark Bro’s gonna be there. And so will his uptight missus. And members of the Kronvakt, who we might think of as our rivals for Ascension. Am I missing anyone else?”

  Serac averted her gaze from Zacko’s shit-eating grin and slumped back in her seat, crossing her arms grumpily as she did. She’d fallen for it again—Zacko and his ‘trolling’. If this was how Manesferans talked to each other, she’d have to build up some mitigation for it before her third Ascension.

  Yet, in fact, Zacko’s list was missing someone—someone who, for all anyone knew, had no interest in showing up to the biggest public event in Pretjord. But it was also someone Serac wished dearly to meet again, if for nothing else than a fireside catch-up between friends.

  The notion felt far-fetched… and more than a little silly, even by her standards. As such, she kept it to herself, at least for now.

  “No, that about covers it,” she murmured in her outside voice. “So, how’s about we head back into town, hey? Gotta leave enough time for Petey to work his magic, and for us to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day.”

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