Knight of Corruption (LitRPG)

46 - Tahar and Truss

Today was to be the last day of my frantic preparations. I'd found a way to boost my attack power, Cali was clear on our plan of action, and I'd made my promises to Benadora and the other scholars who were chomping at the bit to get into the depths of the Tall School for real and start working. At our earliest convenience we trudged our way back to Tahar's village to try and find the last piece of our puzzle – a [technique] I could use to further enhance my attack power.

The chances were low. If they did utilize melee weaponry, it was likely to consist of spears and blunt weapons, not two-handers like Stigma. My only hope was that this theoretical technique could be used with a multitude of different weapons.

Walking down into the village was starting to become an appealing task. It was a cosy little place filled with friendly faces, far away from the drama on my home continent. Unfortunately, that drama still hadn't been cleared up just yet – so my retirement plans had to wait for the time being. I returned the greetings given by the various inhabitants without offending any of them in the process, so that was something.

Tahar was in her usual spot, with her legs hanging over the wooden walkway outside of her hut. I patted her on the shoulder, "Good morning Tahar, I think today will be the day we fight."

"Fight monster? Yes, fight!"

"But there's one more thing I want to do. Can you show me your warriors?"

"Warriors," Tahar had a pensive look on her face. At first, I believed she did not know the meaning of my words, but she explained eventually. "Village, no warriors. All men and women fight to protect village."

I rephrased my question, "Who is the most powerful? Strongest?"

"Truss. Elder huntsman, very skilled. I show you to them."

Tahar hopped up onto her feet and led the way. It was a short walk through to the other side of the settlement, where a lone hut rested against the base of a twisted tree. A small plume of smoke escaped through a gap in the canopy roof. Several tools and weapons were mounted on a small rack made from wood and twigs.

"Truss!" Tahar spoke, "Er shall parut?"

"Hun!" The curtain covering the hut's doorway was swept aside, and a truly titanic man stepped out into the clearing. He was at least eight feet tall. His arms were huge, covered in corded muscle and dense feathers.

"Ren tu shel fun ryon nagamu."

He studied my form from above before posing a question to Tahar, "Er shall valia fan tor?"

I didn't understand any of this. The bulky warrior bent down and grabbed my midsection using his dinner-plate sized palms. He applied a steady amount of pressure against my stomach, then my chest, and finally my arms. I held my ground as he seemingly inspected me for my suitability. He almost studied the equipment covering my body, rapping my chest plate with his knuckles. He made a motion to touch Stigma but...

"Don't do anything to him," I whispered.

"Fine."

He backed away as I understood his intent. I took off my sheath and handed it to him. He held out his hands to receive it, but almost fell over when the full weight of Stigma pulled down on his body. He heaved it back upwards and shook his head. He then gave it back to me with quaking arms. The weight had taken him by surprise. It put into context just how monstrously strong I had become, if me beating an entire lynch mob of mercenaries single-handedly hadn't already...

He grunted, "Hun. Fu san tama."

Tahar smiled, "Impressed with strength He will show you. Decide if worthy."