Is It War That Makes A Warrior?
Elijah believed in sticking to a course of action once he had decided upon it. This simultaneous vice and virtue was imparted to him by his grandfather. Some called it pride; others called it stubbornness. Right now, it felt like stupidity.
As it transpired, he wasn’t the only one who held to this tenet. The Toad Master had decided to draw out his anger by any means necessary, and Elijah had decided not to let him.
This led to Elijah receiving a severe beating as he was tossed about the arena like a ragdoll. He was determined not to let the toad man’s attacks break him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t dodge. The amphibian’s speed and proficiency, however, ensured it wasn’t possible.
He repeated a mantra over and over to stop him from striking back:
“I am better than him; I will stick to my beliefs; I will not give in.”
It helped mollify the pain somewhat, but it did nothing for the accumulating bruises that had taken root on every inch of his body; he was as swollen as a pumpkin.
The Toadkin, clearly unhappy with what he was doing, only made his attacks stronger over time. Perhaps he thought that if he ramped up the pain, Elijah would give in sooner?
The opposite was true. The harder it was for him to endure, the more he wanted to.
Seeing that this approach wasn’t leading anywhere, the Toad Master switched tack. He still struck the young man with enough force to send him flying, but he added insults and personal jibes in between the attacks.
The old toad man looked disgusted by his own words, but he stuck to the course he had decided upon, which, on some level, Elijah couldn’t help but respect.
“You’re weak,” the Toadkin declared, before backhanding the teen across his puffy face so hard that what teeth hadn’t already been knocked out were sent tumbling through the air.
“I am better than him,” Elijah repeated, his swollen tongue mumbling the words which were only for himself.
“You’re slow,” the toad man berated, proving his point by kicking the young man in the stomach before he had even hit the ground. After what little bile remained inside him was choked up, Elijah continued:
“I will stick to my beliefs.”
The personal insults weren’t working, so the Toad Master broadened the scope of his verbal assault.
“The whore who spawned you would be ashamed,” he went on, bouncing the young man’s head off the sand with his heel, using enough force to ring his bell but not enough to knock him out. Proof of his martial mastery.
Elijah’s eyes burned at the comment, but he continued with his mantra:
“I.”
The Toadkin, having found a successful line of attack, pressed his advantage mercilessly:
“Yes, a bet she had thousands of tadpoles, ribbit, each egg fertilised by a different male.” His voice was filled with clearly fake smarm.
The teen began to shake and turn red, but he didn’t break from his commitment.
“Will.”
“You don’t even know who your sire is, do you?” The Toad master asked with an inexperienced imitation of condescension.
It didn’t matter that there was no real conviction behind the words; it didn’t matter that the insults were tailored towards toad people and made very little sense when applied to him; it didn’t even matter that it was being said by someone with no way to know anything about his personal life.
They had struck a part of Elijah’s soul, hidden so deep that he didn’t know it was a part of him. Sometimes he wished he never knew his father. But he couldn’t deny he was his son.
“Not.”
Elijah pressed on, pushing himself slowly back to his feet, tendons straining with the effort, arms shaking.
The Toad Master deflated; he had thought he was onto something with that one, but the pesky child was continuing that same phrase for the hundredth time.
Except he wasn’t.
“I will not hear a bad word about my mother!!!” he bellowed, gaining a second wind and charging the toad man. That, it would seem, was the straw that broke the camel's back.
The monster, Wrath, finally broke free of its cage, and it was rearing for a fight.
As Elijah closed the distance, his skin turned grey and bark-like. The Toad Master’s features returned to their normal calm when he saw the mace materialise in the enraged child’s fist.
This had been difficult for the old man; he was kind by nature, but a teacher at heart. And this was a lesson the young one was sorely in need of. Were his anger left to fester, what could otherwise be a promising future would be destroyed by self-sabotage.
The master thought he had the measure of the man from their earlier altercation. He was surprised, therefore, when Elijah used Dodge, not to evade an attack, but to avoid the toad man’s open-palm deflection.
Instead of the straightforward downward slash the teen had initiated, courtesy of the Skill, his weapon jumped to the right at the last moment, dodging the webbed hand that had intended to stop it and landing a solid strike on the Toad Master’s left shoulder, dislodging the arm and causing his sword to fall from his grasp.
The beast had tasted blood, and it wanted more!
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Elijah saw red; he felt heady as blood rushed around his body like jet fuel. His everything was bright red, and veins bulged out like cables being pulled off the seafloor.
He no longer felt pain, but still he craved it. With vicious excitement, he sought to strike the one before him, not remembering why.
The master, being an experienced fighter, didn’t falter because of his mistake. He calmly moved backwards, avoiding the teen’s wild strikes with practiced efficiency. The pain of his dislocated shoulder pulled at his mind, but he didn’t let it distract him; now was a key moment.
Elijah pounded sand, attacking with no regard for defence; each time his strikes failed to land, he was driven to greater madness. Bellowing out his frustration, spittle flinging from his lips, the teen sliced open his arm, forcing his blood to obey his will.
Before, the creature inside him had an iron grip on his vital fluid, but enraged, there was no limit to his willpower. He demanded his blood form into crystallised darts that fired towards the albino toad man, and it had no choice but to obey.
The Toad Master was as agile as a dancer, but he only dodged eleven of the twelve projectiles. The final crystal dart struck him in his already injured left arm. He shrugged with his one good shoulder; what was another wound on his already wounded side?
Elijah didn’t see it the same way; he cheered in triumph and was propelled into a third wind. His Stamina seemingly endless, the teen redoubled his beastly attacks.
Although there was even more energy forced into them, they were more reckless, and they missed their mark by even greater margins.
Elijah tried to use the Dodge trick again, but the toad man had infuriatingly adjusted to it and always had a path open to evade if he couldn’t deflect.
His Berserker’s Bark was also useless; the Toad Master wasn’t even attacking. He was like water, constantly flowing, impossible to strike.
Inevitably, Elijah’s anger burned low; the heat of such flames couldn’t last forever. Now that his rage had a foothold, however, it didn’t want to let go, and neither did he want it to, for he knew it would give way to regret.
Before that could happen, the toad man spoke up for the first time since he had caused Elijah to enter a state of frenzy with his use of pain, both physical and emotional.
“No, hold onto that anger; don’t let it burn out!” the monster man insisted.
The rational part of the teen’s mind, which had been taking a backseat, was confused by the instruction. Didn’t this guy want him to let go of his anger?
“You must control it and not let it control you. Don’t just repress it, or it will bubble over again. Anger is a weapon, and warriors must accept their weapons in order to use them. Control is the most important thing!”
The Toad Master’s words were spoken quickly but calmly and with definite firmness; time was of the essence.
Elijah didn’t really understand what the toad man was talking about, but he decided to do what he thought he was supposed to.
He continued his wild attacks but slowly began to rein in the strikes, making them tighter and faster. The heat of anger still boiled just beneath his skin, but it was being constrained by his will; not allowed to run rampant.
Soon, the Toad Master was forced to defend in earnest, throwing in the occasional knee or elbow to try and break Elijah’s concentration.
Instead of just shrugging off the attacks and doggedly chasing after the next hit, he took the time to defend, but without losing sight of his next strike, making his movements small and efficient.
Before the young man knew what was happening, he was fighting like a proper warrior. There was no wasted motion, and he was constantly chasing after the next opening with relentless fervour.
At some point, the Toad Master was able to circle around to his blade, kick it up and start using it in his off hand.
Weapons clashed. The pair danced, and Elijah matched the old master strike for strike. When his mace and the toad’s thrusting sword bound together, the young man discovered he was the one with greater Strength, and he did his best to lean into what seemed to be his only advantage.
Elijah entered a fugue state. The wildness of anger warred with the constraint of control, engaged in a constant battle, fuelling his every strike.
The teen had no idea how long he went blow for blow with the old man, but before he knew it, he found he was enjoying himself. His muscles switched between tense and relaxed from second to second, and sweat began to drip off his brow and onto the sand, but his breaths were deep and even.
Finally, he got a lucky hit, or he thought he did. The Toad Master left an opening, allowing the teen to strike his weapon hand with the mace, sending the thrusting sword flying. However, it was a trap.
The sixteen-year-old had become overextended, and the old master took full advantage. In one fluid motion, he locked the mace arm under his armpit, placed a foot behind the teen’s lunging leg, shoved, and jerked.
Elijah fell flat on his back, his main weapon gone. He tried to bring his offhand around, but the toad man already had control of it and was pointing the tip of the spear-dagger at his throat.
There was a moment where he fought to find the next move before he realised it was pointless.
A laugh escaped his lips. The anger released its hold, and he felt better than he had in days. The mounting pressure that had been growing between his shoulder blades was suddenly relieved, and it felt good!
He laughed for a good few minutes, rolling around in a fit of giggles.
When he finally stopped, he found not a blade but an open, warted hand pointed towards him. He took it without hesitation, pulling himself to his feet. He was greeted by the Toad Master’s gentle smile.
“Congratulations,” he said, his voice as serene as his face. “You have taken the first step on the path of control by learning to harness your anger, but it is only the first step.
Ribbit.
You must master all your emotions, not just direct them. Understand your heart,” he went on, pressing a slimy finger into his chest, “and you will be a warrior.”
Once he had said the words he needed to say, his frog-like face broke out into a grin once more, and he threw something at the teen.
On reflex, he caught it. To his surprise, it was the Toad Master’s swordfish sword.
“But–” the teen spluttered, trying to convey his inability to accept such a precious gift.
“Hush now,” the toad croaked, “I can hardly let one of my students go out into the world without a weapon,” he said, pointing to the mace whose haft was nearly chipped all the way through and the spearhead that was little more than mangled junk metal.
“But… I can’t… Don’t you at least want to know how I got into this Trial? I’m clearly not Toadkin,” Elijah said, desperately trying to find some way to repay the elder’s generosity.
Throughout the fight, despite the multiple hits, the Toad Master’s weapon didn’t have so much as a scratch. It was simply too good for him.
“Croak.
Frankly, I don’t care.
Ribbit.
I took this job to teach warriors, and you are a warrior. That is all that matters.”
“Wait, job?” the teen asked, but his question was never answered. The last thing he saw was the white beaming face and bright red eyes of the albino toad man before he was consumed by the void.
Congratulations!
You have completed the Trial of Evolution 1: Toadkin
Grade: B
Objectives:
- Impress the Toad Master with your talent for combat: ?
- Show the Toad Master you have the heart of a warrior: ?
- Best the Toad Master: ?
Rewards:
You have earned the right to Evolve from a Toadkin into 1 of 4 Toadkin Evolutions:
- Evolved Toadkin
- Sage Toad
- Slimy Striker
- Warty Warrior
Choose Now!
patrons: