Sleeping Player (Project Chrysalis Book 3) by John Gold (novel24 TXT) đź“•
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- Author: John Gold
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LJ only had a branch to counter the tavern owner’s sword, which meant that he couldn’t block anything. All he could do was parry. He slipped forward, though his opponent struck him with his sword’s guard and backed away. A stabbing cut swept to the side, a backhanded blow to the throat. The assailant assumed a fencing stance; the cat used amplification to try a chop. Wait, what amplification?
They froze. The innkeeper’s sword was at the cat’s side; the cat’s branch was at the innkeeper’s throat. The latter took two steps backward and assumed a swordsman’s stance. Style master!
“My name is Arkham the Dancing Sword, and you already know me as the owner of the tavern. I’ve watched you growing this tree, helping animals, and giving the workers a hand for two and a half months. Throughout that time, you’ve followed three principles: you don’t leave the field, you don’t talk, and you continue to wait for your companion. That impressed me. A couple of days ago, I also found out that you practice your swordplay every night. So, you never sleep?”
LJ nodded, seeing no point in hiding the fact.
“In five months, at the beginning of spring, there will be a trial for acceptance into the ranks of the Hunters. The trial will be held in Gimza, in the Darin Empire. Find a hotel called the Claire Marine and ask the barman for three portions of mari pies. I recommend giving it a try.”
You received access to probation with the Hunters
The probation will begin in five months and six days in the city of Gimza.
Go to the Claire Marine and order three portions of mari pies.
Once again, everything seemed very familiar. The Hunters, the barman, the trial, ordering food.
“Do you want me to teach you how to use swords and daggers?”
You have a new skill offer: Swords and daggers
LJ nodded. You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
You learned a new skill: Swords and daggers
Swords and daggers: +1
After LJ accepted the skill, they went back to sparring. His opponent was unpredictable, using a variety of styles—marauder, fencing, swordsman, two-handed swordsman, assassin. Every new attack differed from the one before it. There were lunges from impossible positions, strikes with hilts and guards, tripping, hand-to-hand fighting, and even some dirtier tricks. He really did dance, constantly changing his stance and relentlessly attacking. His movements were all smooth and precise, down to the millimeter. Each strike was calculated. Some were weak, some were devastating. The muscles in his body were like springs.
Fighting the swordsman brought up memories of doing the same with the blood knight, though LJ always lost, both then and in his memories. There was a yawning gap in their abilities that only oceans of time could fill. LJ’s inner voice rejoiced, loving the battles.
Milisandra still hadn’t showed up, but LJ continued to wait. Winter came, work outside came to a close, and snow fell. The houses LJ had built that summer filled up quickly. The crown of his tree completely covered the vacant lot, and both the tree and the grass growing beneath it remained green and healthy despite the cold. The poor cat couldn’t have been more grateful for such a valuable gift during the coldest time of the year. Sweet plants grew, with flowers even along the edges of the field. Nobody had planted them—they grew by themselves. Regardless of how cold it was beyond the edges of the field, the constant temperature under the tree meant that the plants didn’t feel the wind in the least.
Sometimes, animals brought their dead friends. LJ cried over each of them, giving them a burial in the vacant lot. Then, he placed crosses over them and planted flowers. When the weather was coldest, the animals spent all their time there, sleeping at night in the field. Even though the local climate was brutal, LJ didn’t mind it at all. He could even eat or bathe in snow without a problem. With so much free time on his hands, he focused even more on his sword training. In the mornings, when everyone was sleeping, he cleared away the snow. The people living there gave him food in exchange, and he shared it with the animals. Twice a day, he checked to make sure Millie hadn’t gotten back yet. The innkeeper always informed him sadly that she hadn’t.
LJ still couldn’t do anything more than doze. His dreams about the red people grew clearer, always ending in pain as LJ woke up. By that point, all he had to do was tighten up to see all kinds of semitransparent creatures flying around. He could only see the smallest of them, but he knew what some of them were—they were the souls of the animals he’d buried in the field. Some were those he’d fed long ago. So, they died?! Just the thought of that tugged at his heart.
Every night, he trained with the owner of the tavern; every day, he practiced his strikes. He needed more skill, more combinations, more precision, better movements. He needed the experience
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