Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series by Dan Sugralinov (i read books TXT) 📕

lessons, Storm Fists, Touch of Death, Maiming Wave, Breakthrough, Explosive Tornado, Storm Scream… Sometimes the names of the techniques spoke for themselves, sometimes they just seemed confusing. The damage varied, but the basics remained the same — one way or another the moves wounded, stunned and killed.

In the end, after thinking a while, I used five points to upgrade Combo, reducing the time between moves in the series by milliseconds and raising the combo chain up to thirty-three. I rarely reached the end of the chain as it was, but this would come in handy on high-level mobs. The move now had a modifier: Fast Combo. I didn’t have enough training points for the final upgrade, Hurricane Combo. I made my choice because of a strategy I had planned: Clarity and Fast Combo. It was simple; the more hits I could dish out while in Clarity, the quicker my enemy would die.

The final two points went on Storm Fists. My ace in the hole, just in case I spent all my spirit and Vindication.

Storm Fists level 1

 

Passive air ability.

 

Your standard punches gain power, transforming into Hammerfists at current grade.

 

This move costs no spirit, but cannot be used at range.

 

Cost: 2 training points.

 

The training ended at dusk. Yawning, Oyama rubbed his belly, pulled in air through his nostrils and said dreamily:

“Roast lamb with prairie grass. I better go before those gluttons eat it all. Oh, yeah… Come back when you’re ready to learn new techniques or you want to confirm your next rank. There’ll be someone to fight you in Jiri. Dzigoro, for example — he’s an Unparalleled Master. And we can find a Grand Master, if you manage to go further than two hundred steps along the Path of Spirit. That’s all, apprentice, get going.”

Oyama jumped up and his figure melded into the darkening sky. He landed back in the village.

As I watched him go, I wondered how long I’d have to grind to reach his level.

 

 

Chapter 25. Between Dreams and Reality

MY SLEEP DEBT and Oyama’s exhausting training led me doze off right at the table while eating dinner. Maria helped me stagger over to the bed on disobedient legs, dimmed the light panels and left me to rest. I pulled off my shoes, fell back without taking off my clothes and fell asleep, probably in the same second my head hit the pillow.

I managed to sleep only three hours, which I found out later while on the windswept roof — Roj had dragged me from my bed and taken me to exercise. He said it was Hairo’s orders and I could address all my complaints to him any time I liked. I would have liked to right then, but Hairo was busy.

“Exercise on the roof? At night? Why?”

“Breathe, Alex,” the bodyguard suggested. “Breathe. Fresh air and all that…”

“Have you been talking to Oyama?”

“I don’t know who that is, but he sounds like a wise man!” Roj chuckled. “Alright, stand in front of me and repeat after me…”

Shivering and yawning, I started to warm up without enthusiasm: squatting, lunging, waving my arms. At the same time, at the other end of the roof, armed people in camouflage uniforms were loading onto our Shark. I nodded in that direction and asked:

“Who are they?”

“Wild ones,” Roj explained. “Keep going, don’t get distracted.”

I kept going, now glancing from side to side with interest.

In the opposite corner of the roof, there was a little tent village flickering with flashlights. People wandered within it, ragtag and disheveled. Those same wild ones who hadn’t yet moved into the apartments.

The Shark, under Willy’s control, took off. Hairo soon found us. He lit a cigarette, watching as I trained. Letting out a cloud of smoke, he gave a crisp report:

“We found some reliable people among Diego Aranzabal’s servants. He rarely leaves the base, but, according to them, he’s meeting someone from the Cartel tonight. If everything goes to plan, he won’t make it there.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then he’ll meet with the Cartel’s people, but he won’t come back. That’s our plan B. We got plans C and D too, just in case. The wild ones’ leader Fletcher is managing the operation. You can meet him when he gets back, if you want… Alright, enough warming up!”

Hairo had gotten the idea of teaching me self-defense, and asked Roj to do it in his place — his own bionic prosthetic legs made teaching difficult.

“Today we’re going to try escaping from holds,” Hairo declared. “Alex, watch us. I hope you won’t need this, but it’s important for you to be ready. Roj?”

Van Garderen nodded and approached the security officer. He turned his back and Hairo grabbed him in a headlock. Roj stepped back, putting his leg behind Hairo’s, then fell back on the security officer, pulling him to the floor.

“No, no, he doesn’t have the weight for that, or the strength,” Morales griped, getting up. “Arm grip this time. Only slowly and carefully, so the kid gets to see it.”

Hairo repeated the grip, only this time he grabbed Roj’s arms tight. Roj lunged forward and parted his arms sharply, freeing himself and elbowing his boss in the ribs. Hairo groaned.

“I could have stamped on his foot,” Roj told me and smiled widely. “But that doesn’t work on him. Hairo’s a damn cyborg.”

They repeated the demonstration a few more times for me to memorize the sequence of moves.

“Let’s continue.”

Hairo walked over to me and grabbed my wrist.

“Well, what do you do now?”

I tried to pull my arm in, raise it, lower it.

“Nothing.”

“It’s easy if you think a little. Look.”

He released me and grabbed Roj just the same way. The other man smiled, somehow twisted his wrist and freed himself. Hairo commented:

“The weak point