Purgatory: The Devil's Game

by M. A. Carlson

  The school was one of the buildings with a courtyard I spotted from the exit of Purgatory. Inside was quiet compared to what I’d seen the day before. Looking around the courtyard, I didn’t see a single person.

  “Blunt weapons are not exactly in fashion,” Asher explained, answering before I could even think of asking why it was so empty. “You humans can be really stupid. Everyone wants a sword. ‘It’s so cool’,” he snarked with a nasally voice. With a laugh, he continued, “That is, until you continue to die over, and over again, trying to understand more than just the proficiency imprint. Bunch of morons.”

  Admittedly, I may have daydreamed a little while ago about being a samurai warrior wielding an awesome katana.

  “Why are we going with a blunt weapon?” I asked. Asher hadn’t really explained his reasoning before.

  “Because you are at least limitedly familiar with them,” Asher answered, then elaborated. “You said you’ve swung a bat, right?”

  I nodded.

  Asher bobbed, “A bat is basically a club. You have some familiarity with the weight of such a weapon. You know what it feels like to swing such a weapon. It’s not going to feel awkward in your hand. And that makes a world of difference.”

  “Really?” I asked. I could sort of understand the familiarity angle as well as the weight issue. But how did that make it so much better than a sword or bow and arrow.

  Asher replied with a nod, “Really.”

  I wished he would have elaborated further but he moved across the courtyard to the closed door of a small building that sat in one corner. The building was made of the same shoddy material as other buildings in the city but this one had an actual door. Asher turned and looked at me expectantly.

  I crossed the courtyard to the door and knocked.

  The door opened suddenly and a . . . boy poked his head out, looking left then right before finally looking up at me.

  Narrowing his eyes and looking me up and down, the boy asked, “Are you in the wrong place?”

  I wondered briefly if the boy was another Cherub. Seeing he was staring at me, I answered. “Is this the blunt weapon proficiency school?”

  “It is,” the boy answered, studying me cautiously.

  “Then I’m in the right place,” I answered.

  The boy grunted in a way that made him seem much older than he looked. “Blunt Weapon Proficiency, you want it then?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  The boy frowned and turned away, waving over his shoulder for me to follow him.

  Inside, the building looked a lot like the building where I acquired Asher. There was a long counter where different shaped clubs, maces, and staves were lined up. I knew from gaming there should have been even more to choose from, but then again, I was basically new, and I was getting a free proficiency, so complaining probably wasn’t the right tactic.

  The boy sniffed in annoyance as he sprouted tiny wings and flew up over the counter to land on a stool. “Since it’s your firsts Body Proficiency, you can choose an appropriate weapon,” the boy said, sounding bored.

  “Ask him for training time,” Asher instructed.

  “I can hear you flame,” the boy replied. “The others that are condemned might not be able to see you, but the Cherubim do.”

  “Oh, good,” Asher said. “I wasn’t sure if it was just the one handing out the Calls, or if all the Cherubim could see me. That makes things easier. Can you give him some training time?”

  “One hundred minutes,” the boy answered, then added, “But only because you asked so nicely.”

  “Two hundred,” Asher countered. “He might not gain any experience with so little time.”

  The boy laughed. “Ha, I’ll have you know I’m the finest blunt weapon instructor in all the realms. He’ll gain at least one level with my tutelage.”

  Asher puffed up a little. “Oh, then why were you sent here? Why aren’t you with the Host, training their fighters?”

  The boy ground his teeth. “One does not question the will of God.”

  “And yet, you made such a bold claim,” Asher taunted the boy. “Why not put your crystals where your mouth is? Prove how good you really are? Show everyone what you can instill in this pathetic human with two hundred minutes of training?”

  The boy snorted a laugh, smiling chagrined. “You play on my pride.”

  “Did it work?” Asher asked, smirking.

  The boy laughed. “Yes, I suppose it did. Very well, two hundred minutes. You’ll need to pay for any further instruction.”

  “Good, now where is the potage, this idiot needs to eat or he might fail to gain any understanding from you,” Asher asked, looking around.

  The boy glared at Asher, then asked, “Potage, you expect me to feed him now as well?”

  “Just potage,” Asher answered. “You can’t honestly tell me you can’t spare a little.”

  “Fine, fine, it’s over the cookfire, but just one bowl,” the boy said. “First, choose a weapon.”

  I looked at the small selection of weapons laid out. I could see from just looking at them, they were not in the best of condition. If there was wood as part of the weapon, it was chipped, splintered, or cracked. If there was metal, it was either rusted or dented. “Any advice?”

  “Plenty,” Asher said. “The way I see it, you have two options. You can choose a large two-handed weapon like that club. Or you can choose a one-handed weapon like the mace. Both have advantages and disadvantages.”

  “Like what?” I asked. I had an idea of it, but I still wanted to hear what my guide was going to say.

  “The club will do significantly more damage. But they are also slower weapons. That means you have a much higher chance of missing when you attack. Still, in the first level, it probably won’t take more than a single hit to exterminate most demons,” Asher explained. “The mace won’t hit as hard, but you’ll have speed and control. It might mean two or three hits to put something down, which means there is a greater chance there will be more damage for you to absorb during a fight.”

  Asher didn’t mention that the mace would allow me a free hand. A hand that could hold a shield or maybe even another mace.

  I asked, “Do you have a preference?”

  “I can work with either,” Asher answered. “I have multiple paths forward for you, whichever weapon you choose.”

  “Yeah, but is there one that is better than the others?” I asked.

  Asher sighed. “Take a minute, swing each of them. See which feels most natural in your hands. That’s the weapon you go with, alright?”

  I nodded, moving to pick up the club. It was more, or less, a larger, heavier baseball bat. The weight was distributed well as far as I could tell, though I knew almost immediately that it was too heavy for me to wield comfortably. I had just enough strength to be able to swing it, but the wind up was slow and if I faced off against anything with some speed, it would be a problem. I put it back and said, “Maybe. Will the Blunt Weapon Proficiency make it any easier to use?” I wasn’t sure if my guide was going to give me an answer.

  Thankfully, Asher answered, “You’ll be more accurate. More importantly, you will learn how to swing it, so you don’t waste so much movement and energy. Unfortunately, it won’t make the weapon any lighter. In other words, you’ll have the same strength problem until you level up your body a few times.”

  That was good to know. Particularly good to know.

  I looked to the boy and asked, “Any exchanges?”

  “No,” the boy answered with a yawn.

  I frowned and moved on to the mace. It was top heavy but not so much I couldn’t swing it comfortably. The mace gave me a lot more flexibility. I could strike on any surface of the mace head or from any angle and I would still deal damage.

  I swung the mace a few more times. It was shorter than a bat, but the balance felt similar. I could control it, which meant I could most likely hit what I was aiming for. It also gave me speed. Speed to strike quickly and not need to
worry about what part of the weapon I hit with. More importantly, it gave me the speed to get out of the way, something the large weapon didn’t provide.

  “Yeah, this’ll do,” I said, smiling at the dented metal mace head and gripping the rough wooden handle. “This’ll do nicely.”

  “Good choice,” Asher said, sounding relieved. “You had me worried that you’d go after that club for a minute there.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

  “I was testing you,” Asher replied. “I wanted to see what you would choose. You haven’t really done much to impress me so far. I’m still not impressed, but at least now I don’t consider you a complete imbecile.”

  I punched the little ball of fire and my hand passed through it impotently while Asher laughed mockingly.

  “Please behave,” the boy requested, yawning again, and drawing my attention back to him. The counter was cleared of the weapons and instead there was a single scroll. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter 5 – First Step

  The new scroll seemed to be written with the same kind of gibberish as the scroll for my Soul Proficiency was. I laid my Scroll of Body and Soul over the top of the new scroll, which caused them to bind together along the top edge. When that was done, I rolled up the first two pages to see my new Body Proficiency.

  Blunt Weapon: Mace - Beginner

  Level: 2

  Experience to Next Level: 100

  Damage: 2-4 Blunt

  Hit Rate: +0.20%

  Proficiency to use a mace in combat.

  “Hey, it’s level two,” I said, feeling surprised.

  Asher surprised me even more when he cheered. “Yes! I hoped your lame baseball playing would let you start at a higher level.”

  “First, baseball is not lame. And second, you knew this might happen?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “First, baseball is lame. It’s like watching paint dry,” Asher snarked, then finally explained, “Second, I didn’t want to get your hopes up. There was a reason I asked you about any martial training. Sometimes, there is a chance, depending on how well you knew a weapon while you were alive, that you can start with a higher proficiency level. More importantly, it might then also require less experience to level it up.”

  “Like watching paint dry?” I gasped indignantly, ignoring the explanation part. “I’ll have you know, it is not only the greatest game ever, but it is also a thinking man’s game.”

  “Uh huh, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” Asher replied.

  The boy in charge of the blunt weapon school yawned, stopping me from retorting on the flame’s comments on the greatest sport in history. “I don’t have all day. Better eat soon or I’ll start your clock without you.”

  “Yeah, listen to the Cherub,” Asher said with a grin.

  I grunted irritably at the flame but couldn’t argue. Not after my stomach chose that moment to rumble in discontent. “You’ve won this round, sparky.”

  Asher growled, “Don’t call me sparky!”

  I grinned. It seemed I had gotten under his skin. “Whatever you say . . . sparky.”

  Asher puffed up slightly, looking like he was about to verbally assault me when I simply turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face as I ignored his tirade and kept on walking.

  I found the cook fire next to the building. It was just a fire with a large pot hanging over it. Inside the pot was a dark brown . . . soup? Stew? I wasn’t sure what it was to be honest. I found a stack of wooden bowls and spoons on the solitary bench that sat near the fire. I inspected one of each, scraping at them with a finger, trying to determine if it was just a splinter or old food. They seemed clean enough, not that I saw anything to clean them with sitting in the yard. I spooned some into the bowl and sat on the bench to eat.

  Asher was right about the taste. It was . . . unpleasant. Filling, but unpleasant. As soon as I finished the last spoonful, the boy walked out of his office holding a mace, just like the one he’d given me.

  The boy yawned and stretched, basking in a ray of sun that broke through the dreary clouds above, but only for a moment. The clouds covered the sky once more and the boy sagged disappointedly. With a heavy sigh, the boy turned to me. “Okay, let’s get started. Two hundred minutes.”

  I nodded and approached the boy.

  The boy yawned again and stretched one last time before he settled into a low stance, his body turned at an angle to present a smaller target. He held the mace in the hand furthest away from me and left his empty hand out in front. “What are you waiting for? Stand like I am.”

  I mimicked his stance, awkwardly trying to adjust.

  The boy nodded when it seemed I had gotten close. “Now, don’t move,” he instructed before leaving his stance and moving around me. He nudged me in places with the mace or his feet to adjust my stance slightly. “Good, hold that until your EP is drained.”

  I hadn’t noticed at first, but after a glance at the yellow bar in my periphery, I could see my EP was draining slowly. Apparently, just holding the stance drained points.

  “Whatever you do, don’t move,” Asher warned, slowly floating around me in a circle. “Hold that stance, I don’t care how much it burns.”

  “Why?” I asked but all I got in return was a ‘Shh’ from both Asher and the boy.

  The boy then moved over to the cook fire and prepared himself a bowl of the potage. I was mystified when the boy made an ‘mmm’ sound and grunted in pleasure. He sat on the bench and ate, making moans of pleasure with every bite.

  I tried to ignore the boy and the sound effects, instead focusing on holding the stance and watching my EP slowly tick downward. When my EP hit about 50%, I was starting to feel the burn and wanted to move so badly. I couldn’t see value in just holding a single position. Especially as I lost one point of EP every five seconds or so. I only regained 4 per minute so I wouldn’t be able to maintain the stance for long.

  I started to really worry after about five minutes when I was down to just ‘17/70’ EP. I was sweating buckets, the droplets of salty water stinging my eyes, but I didn’t dare wipe at my face. I wouldn’t waste any of this training time, not if I could help it. Still, I wondered what would have happened if I ended up completely drained. Would I pass out? Would I die? Thankfully, I never found out. When I was down to ‘2/70’, the boy spoke, “Take a break. How long until your EP recovers?”

  I let myself drop to the ground, suddenly gasping for breath. I hadn’t realized just how taxing that really was. It took me a minute just to get my breathing under control to be able to answer him. “I get 4 per minute, so . . . about 17 or 18 minutes.”

  The boy scoffed. “So much wasted time.”

  I hoped that was a prompt to him helping me out in some way. Giving me a potion, or food, or . . . I don’t know . . . magic water that replenishes my EP. Instead, the boy finished his bowl of food, only to refill his bowl and start in on that.

  “Your recovery is pathetic,” Asher commented. “That will need to be rectified.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “Any tips for recovering faster?”

  Asher sighed irritably, “Always with the questions. Why this? Why that?” He sighed again then finally answered, “Not in your current state. There are proficiencies that would help, but you are currently at your maximum. You are also a long way away from meeting the requirements necessary to learn that kind of proficiency.”

  “You know, you don’t need to complain so much,” I complained.

  Asher didn’t reply.

  When my EP was refilled, the boy told me to take the same stance again and hold it. The boy complained when he needed to help readjust my stance again, but he got me set once more. I thought it was faster than the first time, but I couldn’t really say for sure . . . except that I hadn’t lost as many energy points as before . . . or so I thought.

  I was surprised when the boy started speaking this time. “The mace
is a blunt weapon. Once you start swinging it, it is almost impossible to stop. There are ways of redirecting the blow, but we’ll go over that in the future if you decide to continue taking lessons. You are starting with a simple ball mace.” The boy went over the history of the ball mace, starting with a simple club and going through to the flanged iron mace. He mentioned there were even more advanced maces if I ever became a Soldier of the Heavenly Host. Throughout his speech, I could see the boy trying to sound bored and uninterested, but the amount of knowledge he possessed about the weapon said otherwise as did the occasional faint smile that crossed his face.

  When my EP was almost empty, he stopped to let me rest. Once I was on my feet again and back in position, the lecture continued. The process repeated until I was able to take that same stance without needing to be corrected. Eventually, I figured out that he was forcing muscle memory into me. That was what I told myself anyway, otherwise I felt like this whole thing was a giant waste of time.

  “Finally,” the boy said, sounding exasperated. “You took way too long to get that. One hundred thirty-four minutes gone and you haven’t even taken your first step.”

  “First step?” I asked.

  The boy took up the same stance then moved, taking careful circling steps around me, his back leg stepped behind the front leg then the front leg stepped sideways, always keeping me in front of him. “Feet should stay in an ‘L’ shape as you circle your target. The mace is a powerful weapon meant to do significant damage with each blow you deliver. You need to have a powerful stance, be well-balanced, and keep your weight on the balls of your feet. When you are ready to attack, you step forward switching your stance and bringing the weapon through to strike.” The boy showed me exactly what he meant when he stepped, pushing off with his back leg, taking a large step forward to close the distance, swinging his mace as he moved toward me. I could see the momentum of the strike building in the movement. If he hit me with that attack, it would not end favorably for me.