by L. M. Kerr
“Bravo! Fantastic job, friend!” One voice fearlessly cut through this tension, full of cheer and goodwill.
Accompanying that voice was a smattering of applause as Sion smiled at Micheal, clapping his hands together in appreciation.
The various guards in the room began to stand down, their hands leaving the hilts of their blades as things returned back to normal. The tension in the room died off as people began to go back to what they were doing, conversation slowly picking up.
“What in the world were those movements, friend? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Martial Art quite like that.” Sion’s voice was full of curiosity as he walked up to Micheal, ignoring the collapsed figure of the downed bystander, as if he had already been removed from Sion’s memory. A couple of staff members moved over to help pick the Byren up, carrying him off to a side room to recover.
All things considered, this was probably the best end in this type of scenario for the poor innocent bystander, leaving with just a couple of bruises and a little embarrassment.
If Micheal had foolishly gone out and killed or defeated Sion, the guards in the room, as well as Sion’s personal guards, would’ve all lashed out at Micheal, forcing his hand. Things would have devolved into a large-scale fight that would doubtlessly draw the ire of Sion’s First Rate Warrior father and likely leave many innocent people injured, or even killed.
It would’ve almost certainly led to this innocent bystander being executed.
Playing the hero could be fun, but it was always wise to consider the consequences of one’s actions before making them. Doing the ‘right’ thing was not always the right choice.
“Ah, Young Master Sion.” Micheal bobbed his head rather unsteadily as he looked at the Byren, smiling dimly,
“That was the hand-form of my self-created Sword Art, the Layered Blade Art.” Micheal began to explain, talking in a rather bubbly way, as if speaking to Young Master Sion was a huge honor.
“Oh? You made this Sword Art yourself?” Sion smiled as he heard this, genuine interest appearing in his eyes.
While the Young Master of Tansol might be what some considered a nuisance, he was also a genuine warrior. Just from the little that Micheal knew about him, he had figured that the young warrior was bored.
Why else would he go off to gambling bars and get into many fights? He likely was seeking some type of challenge, but restrained by his father and not allowed to do anything truly dangerous. He wasn’t sure about all of this, but it was a safe enough assumption to make given what he did know.
“Yes.” Micheal sighed abruptly, the mood around him becoming rather morose,
“Long ago, I used to be something of a prodigy. I studied various Sword Arts and gained a solid amount of strength in my techniques, forming several of my own. I was young and brave, going out on wild adventures without a worry in the world. Alas…” Micheal shook his head,
“On the very eve I finished creating the Layered Blade Art, when I was deep in meditation, I was ambushed by a man I cared for as a brother. He was jealous of a treasure we had picked up foraging in some ruins, betraying our friendship of many years for simple wealth.” Micheal shook his head a second time,
“And here I am now. A cripple, only able to defeat Third Rate Warriors.” Micheal finished his tale, riveting emotion echoing in his voice,
"My apologies, Master Sion. I'm not myself tonight." He added a small, apologetic note.
Sion’s mouth was slightly open as he heard all of this, his eyes full of expectation. Micheal had told his tale in a rather general manner, but imbued it with as much emotion as he could, focusing his thoughts on his own, actual journeys, and the trials he had suffered through.
Hearing what sounded like a tragic, epic adventure, seeing clear proof of powerful Martial Arts, witnessing the respect this warrior showed for him — there was no way a young Byren like Sion would not be interested, especially given how poorly his night had been going before.
And, sure enough…
“Barkeep! Give us two pints of Folemon’s Finest!” Sion waved his hand casually off to the side, his voice commanding, before he turned to look back at Micheal,
“Why don’t you tell me more of your story, friend.”
“…”
.. .. .. .. .. ..
The next morning…
Micheal yawned as he woke up, stretching his arms and legs in the comfortable bed he had slept in. He blinked his eyes several times as he sat up, scanning his surroundings.
He was sitting upon a large, plush bed in one of the finest suites in the High Dragon House Establishment. The floor was covered in a large green carpet, while a large dresser sat across from him. A nightstand stood on his right, with a large, golden torch that could be activated with just a string of Ki.
A shuttered window was off on his left, letting in faint gleams of the dawn light.
After he managed to pique Sion’s interest, Micheal had spent the entire evening talking, drinking, and even gambling a little with the young warrior. As the evening faded, he had even taught Sion several stances of the very real Layered Blade Art, a technique someone else created many years in the future.
He drew from his own past experiences, telling a story of epic proportions. He embellished only slightly, keeping the core truths of what went down the same. Fearsome battles with Magic Beasts, daring dives into mysterious caverns or mystical ruins, rough nights fleeing from hordes of monsters — he unveiled quite a lot.
Young Master Sion soaked it all in, his cheeks rosy as he learned all about Micheal. Even the two younger guards that stood by Sion were entranced, eagerly picking apart the tales Micheal told. The other guards merely watched on, gazing at Micheal with distrust, but none daring to say anything in front of Sion’s clear interest.
The story alone, while decent, wasn’t something that would draw in such attention. It was the specific care Micheal took to make each part sound incredible, carefully guiding his tone and choosing his words wisely.
This skill for storytelling wasn’t an original skill of Micheal’s. He had never been the type of person to focus on something like that, even before everything became awful with the advent of the apocalypse.
No, this was something he had picked up here on the Second Layer, many years ago in his first life.
Isabelle had always loved to hear stories of Micheal’s time on Earth, or the times before they met her. Micheal had gone out of his way to practice his storytelling just for her.
He sighed as he pushed the thought aside, and the ongoing tension that was building up as he prepared to approach the territory where the Farians lived… where Isabelle lived.
“That went well.” Micheal muttered as he tapped on his Spatial Ring.
Out from it appeared a small, white metal plate with a purple triangle engraved within it. He smiled as he looked down at the metal square, pleased.
He had obtained an Entrance Pass, and a Superior Entrance Pass at that.
To pass through to the territory of the Farians, Micheal needed to take the Tansol Pass. He could go off on his own, but the chance of him running into tons of powerful Magic Beasts was overwhelmingly likely.
Micheal had crossed through the Tansol Pass before and knew for certain how dangerous it was to go through without being helped by a Guide from Tansol City. It would be almost certain death, even for him.
Normally, you needed to purchase an Entrance Pass from the Travel Guild if you wanted to be helped by a Guide. You would move in a group, escorted safely from one end to the other. This purchase would not mean you'd leave immediately, but would place you on a waiting list, something that typically took a couple of days to clear.
There were a very large number of active Guides, but an even larger number of people trying to cross the border.
However, a requisite to buying an Entrance Pass was that you allow yourself to be searched and make your identity clear. If Micheal went about things the normal way, he would expose that he was a human and broadcast informati
on about who and where he was. He would be able to lie, but this would be a distinctive trail that he would’ve left behind.
The only other way to get an Entrance Pass without buying it normally was to acquire it from the Tansol City Lord… or in this case, the Tansol City Lord’s son.
Micheal managed to save himself a large number of Spirit Crystals, as well as avoid leaving behind excess information and an easily found trail, by genuinely talking and becoming somewhat-friendly with Sion. All he did, at the end of the night, was casually talk about his need for an Entrance Pass. Sion had been only too happy to help him out.
With a Superior Entrance Pass, he would be able to join any group he wanted immediately, bumping out a person with a regular Entrance Pass. That meant he could leave for the Silent Sword Sect today, without having to wait several days, saving himself a great amount of time.
“He wasn’t that bad, in the end.” Micheal spoke aloud, rubbing the metal plate as he studied the symbol on it.
After talking with Sion for hours on end, Micheal was able to get a better understanding of his personality. The young warrior wasn’t as pugnacious as Micheal had originally thought. He was simply extremely frustrated by the fact that his father greatly restricted his activities, a case of an overprotective parent.
The rumors of him killing innocents appeared to be without merit, though he did indeed get into fights with people rather often.
Micheal had done what he could to advise Sion with his stories, enshrining in the Byren an example of the ideal, honorable warrior that he should aspire to be. He didn’t know if it would have any real impact, but it was the best he could do on such short notice.
He hoped he'd managed to change the young Byren’s future, to prevent his eventual death at the hand of Baron Sansa, and perhaps change his personality for the better. Only time would truly tell.
Micheal got dressed, donning a dark-grey robe while wrapping his face with bandages to cover up his forehead. He looked outside, noting that the day was just starting. It would be a couple of hours before any Guides would start preparing to gather their group and leave.
Yvvtal seemed to have given up on speaking, for now, after the unexpected bar fight. Micheal vaguely felt as if the Toren had gone into some type of meditative state, shutting himself off from the outside world.
That didn’t really bother Micheal. He needed to keep Yvvtal on him for quite a bit longer, but not having to talk to the Toren was definitely a plus. Micheal preferred to do things on his own or with genuine friends. He still wasn’t sure what to consider the odd Toren.
“Alright then.” Micheal walked away from the window and over to the center of his room.
He had everything he needed already set up right now. Provisions were already stored in his Spatial Ring, he had his weapons, was well-rested, and had a Superior Entrance Pass. There was nothing else he needed to prepare.
“Let’s get to it.” His eyes flashed as he opened up his status and glanced at one Ability in particular.
“Temporal Bubble, huh? Let’s see how you work…”
.
Chapter 27
Micheal studied the glass of water he held in his right hand, wiping away a slight smudge on its rim. The glass wasn’t even a bit opaque, showing the crystal-clear water in all its clarity.
After a moment, he held out his left hand and concentrated, staring at the floor intently. In his mind, he issued a mental command.
‘Slow.’
Ethereal knowledge shined forth in his thoughts, fluttering to the forefront of his consciousness. Energy began to run through his left hand, imbued with a mystical concept that Micheal would never have been able to grasp back on Earth. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as this went on, focusing for several seconds.
The air in front of Micheal shivered. For the briefest instant, it began to distort, visibly quivering. Small ripples in space rocked back and forth, a nigh-invisible movement that looked incredibly odd.
The affected space stretched for about a meter in diameter, in the shape of a perfect sphere. He felt that he could make it larger, but that it would eat up more energy than he was willing to expend. He was just testing a few certain things right now; he'd figure out how large he could make it later, when he didn't have a dangerous mission ahead of him.
Just a heartbeat later, that sphere vanished, the air returning to a semblance of normalcy.
Micheal’s gaze never wavered as he looked at the spot in the air where that distortion had been. He then looked back over at the glass of water he held.
He turned the glass over.
Water cascaded through the air, falling towards the floor.
The moment it entered the area where the air had distorted…
It began to slow down.
“That’s pretty rad.” The words fell from Micheal’s mouth as he stared at the phenomenon.
The water was falling down at around three quarters of the rate it should be, taking into account acceleration and gravity here on the Second Layer. The sight of it moving in slow motion, even if only 25% slower, was incredible.
After a couple of seconds, it passed through the sphere of affected space. As soon as it moved past that, it fell to the floor at the same speed it would have normally. It splashed down onto the ground, soaking into the green carpet Micheal was standing on.
“Alright.” Micheal smiled as he looked at the glass, his mind racing ahead of him.
Just from creating that bubble of slowed space, Micheal felt slightly drained. It wasn’t a substantial amount of energy, but he could tell that he wouldn’t be able to create an unlimited amount of these bubbles.
After a few seconds, Micheal tapped on his Spatial Ring and pulled out a canteen. He filled the glass up once more and then held out his left hand again.
‘Speed up.’
Once again, a bubble of space rippled as Micheal activated his Temporal Bubble Ability.
Micheal turned the glass over for the second time.
The clear water fell through the air, spilling forth from the glass. The moment it entered the bubble of space, however…
It immediately began to accelerate, moving faster than normal as it fell down towards the carpet. The water moved roughly 25% faster than it should have, an unnatural dive that looked rather odd.
As with before, as soon as the water finished falling through the bubble of affected space, its speed immediately dropped back to the normal pace it should be at after falling that far.
“Interesting.” Micheal muttered as he looked at this.
There was a difference between slowing time and accelerating time.
Speeding things up cost several times the energy it took to slow things down, if going for the same percentage. Micheal hadn’t expected that, but he didn’t really know what to expect at all when it came to this. He had never experimented with personally manipulating time from an Ability.
“What happens if I stick my hand in it?” Micheal talked out loud to himself as he considered a few things.
He stored the glass in his Spatial Ring as he reached out with his left hand once more. He blinked as he issued a mental command.
‘Slow.’
A bubble of spacetime appeared in front of him. As soon as it did, Micheal stabbed forward with his right hand, throwing it into the midst of the slowed, distorted time bubble.
For a brief moment, Micheal felt something quite odd. An unnerving, twisting sensation that spread along his right hand as his arm landed in the middle of the spacetime bubble. Space seemed to stretch around his arm, a cold wash of air that caused his skin to rise.
That feeling vanished as, without any buildup, the spacetime bubble collapsed and disappeared completely.
“Hmm…” He paused, feeling slightly confused.
Time had not slowed down for his arm at all.
He had felt something; the spacetime bubble seemed to stretch, as if to envelop him. But it had failed to finish enveloping him and was left incomplete,
causing him to feel like he'd been hit with a chill breeze and little else.
He held out his hands again as he began to experiment, running multiple tests.
He did the same test, but sped up time in the bubble. He tried to create a bubble with no time change at all. He tried to create a bubble that was a mix of time changes. He tried to create one that changed actively, from speeding up to slowing down.
He then tested putting his arm in, then putting his head in, and then his entire body into the bubble of spacetime.
He ran a multitude of tests in the free time he had, and as a result of that, he gradually reached a number of conclusions.
His perception of time could, indeed, be affected by the Time Bubbles.
However, for that to happen, one of two things needed to occur.
The first one was rather simple. He needed to be standing fully within the bubble of spacetime, and it needed to be large enough to cover him completely. When this took place, he would feel a chill all over his body and then…
Everything would seem to stay the same at first. For him, time hadn’t changed at all; everything would look normal in his bubble. It was only outside his bubble that everything shifted.
Every time he tried to change the time of his body, Micheal tossed a glass in the air to act as a reference before he tested it.
The first time he managed to succeed and speed up time for himself, he had been standing within the bubble with his eyes centered on that falling glass.
“Wow.” He had muttered then, his eyes gleaming with delight as he watched the glass fall in, to him, what seemed like notably slowed motion.
It only really hit him then.
He now had the power to manipulate time.
Unfortunately, this power, as he learned, was not an absolute one.
The first way to let himself experience changed time was simple, to just stand in the bubble of spacetime. The second way was to stick part of his body within the bubble.
This would make the spacetime bubble try to spread out and envelop him. If it succeeded, it would slow or speed up time for him. If it failed, time would continue on like normal.