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I learned the ways of that fencing technique, as different from the material taught me at Liberty as a heavy two-hander from a delicate rapier. Esperanza was a dance, and winning depended on controlling the distance and the opponent’s weapon, maneuvering, and the ability to choose the right position.

You were the center of a circle, the tip of your blade marking its edge, and you always carried that center with you as you moved.

I wondered what archetype Rocky, clearly a master of that art, had. Fencer? Duelist? I could use it myself, as my third slot after Free Merchant and Proxy was still filled with basic Swordsman—that archetype’s abilities were all but useless to me. Unfortunately, the requirements for the majority of rare and especially epic archetypes were unknown or secret.

We had to interrupt our training, as Olaf suddenly appeared in my private messages, mad as a hornet. I had no idea what had caused his discontent, but he decided to pour it all out on me. Almost as an ultimatum, he demanded that I cancel my operation and return to Dorsa. The clan urgently needed to buy weapons for outposts and materials to upgrade fortifications. As usual, they wanted it yesterday.

I wasn’t soulbound to the Hole, and teleporting via a Soul Stone or the clan portal meant leaving it for a while. How would I come back? Experience has shown me that even getting there was a problem. Yes, my voyage with Thrainul had run overtime, but I wasn’t going to abandon the Magister’s mission just one step away from my goal.

In short, we agreed that as soon as I reached the closest port, I would bind my Soul Stone there and return to Condor via the clan portal. I didn’t really like that option. First, each player could only be bound to one point, and mine had always been in Eyre at Karn’s tavern; I didn’t want to change it. The Pandas were on my heels; in the Kingdom, I could count on my friends and the NPCs, but this world was different. If they pressed me down here, all I could hope was the admins’ help. Second, clan portals were limited by the number of travelers and cooldowns and belonged to the clan in any case. I couldn’t really count on them. What would happen if I lost access? I didn’t like that plan, but Olaf gave me no choice.

Acquisitions couldn’t wait. I had to chase my own tail. I re-logged in as my twink, first transferring some money to that account, and used a Teleportation Scroll to travel to the Bazaar. There, I spent a few hours to find and “anchor” certain articles needed by the clan and prepare delivery contracts for Borland. I didn’t have enough skill points in Trade and had to re-login again and ask one of my clanmates to buy out the list of required items—for a fee, of course. All of this cost me more money than it would otherwise, inflicting almost literal pain, but there was no escaping it. Time cost even more, and I wanted to see my mission in the Hole to the end.

When I returned, the Abyssal was sailing the glowing sea past giant stone pillars rising all the way to the unapproachable roof. Each of them was the size of a small island and was inhabited by colonies of bats. Thousands of them swarmed in the air, and the crew was seemingly exhausted with having to shoot down winged monsters circling above the ship.

“We’re passing the Pillars,” Rocky informed me. “Soon, we’ll enter the uncharted territories. There, you’ll realize why the sea got this name....”

In the meantime, the ship’s seeker climbed up on deck, pointing somewhere in the distance. Thrainul gave out orders I couldn’t make out, and the crew took their positions on the spinning platforms of the harpoon guns, at the cannons, and by the engine.

Thrainul: We’ve found a target. I hereby request our tourists to get to the deck!

 

I had already noticed that the Abyssal had quite a bit of firepower: three universal cannons mounted on moving platforms, several light bombards on supports, and two harpoon guns. The first, located at the front of the ship, was small but long-range—weapons like this were usually installed on astral ships. The second was a monstrous barrel in a separate cradle. It was loaded with a curved four-bladed hook resembling a large anchor. Back in Atrocity, the Pandas had used a missile like that to catch hold of my skiff. Its chain was similar, too—a heavy one with links big enough to fit a hand.

In short, Thrainul’s weird ship was armed like an astral frigate—pretty good by Sphere’s standards. I had no idea why he’d need such firepower, especially a siege chain cannon usually mounted on top of an outpost tower.

“Who’s there?” Bonus asked anxiously, looking forward. “What did you find?”

“An Overgrowth and a Singer,” Thrainul replied, still glued to the eyepiece of a long spyglass. What could he see in that impenetrable darkness? Or did he have Darkvision? It was possible.

“Going by the signal, it’s a Singer...”

The Abyssal put on speed. Confidently, it dissected the unmoving water, leaving two foamy waves in its wake. The behavior of the captain and the crew told me that we weren’t going to submerge; the hunt would happen above water.

“If it’s a Singer, we need to buff everyone with Mind Shield!” Stormbreaker yelled from the aft.

“No need; it’s money down the drain!” Thrainul brushed him off. “She can’t charm all of us, anyway...”

The ray of light beaming from the Abyssal, previously wandering across the black water, suddenly illuminated something alien and pale that flickered just above sea level and immediately returned to the depths. The ship’s searchlight paired with the front harpoon gun locked onto the odd creature sliding just above the surface.

I stared at it, blinked, clutching

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