M. Tress Writes
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Summoned by Monster Girls - Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2024-03-29 08:12:00 +0000 UTCThe park that Cariad had mentioned was one that I was familiar with. Before had work got to the point where I was just so exhausted that I’d collapse into bed after a long day, I used to come here to run on the nature path around the pond.
It honestly wasn’t much of a park. I think the local children’s soccer league got more use out of it than anybody else in the neighborhood, and even the soccer nets were looking pretty tattered at this point. Two extensive fields sat on the west half of the park, while the eastern half was taken up by the smattering of trees that ringed a little pond. A gazebo sat between the two of them, closer to the pond’s side. It made for a decent picnic spot as long as the local teens weren’t using it to hang out and smoke in.
It was close enough to my apartment that I left the truck there and walked over after I got back from work. The extra points in endurance had paid off already. Today had been a bit rough for work, but I still had enough energy that I could have done another half-shift at least.
“Wonder how many points I need to add before I don’t have to sleep?” I muttered to myself as I approached the gazebo in the park.
The building was a large, two story wooden affair that was painted a light tan in color with wooden shingles for the roof. The entire building was maybe thirty feet across, and the lower area was actually just storage for the picnic tables that would be set out if someone actually rented it for an event or something. Normally they were locked away out of sight in a storage space there. I’d only seen it actually rented once before, but people had parties here often enough that there were several large trash cans already set under the somewhat-wobbly stairs that lead up to the open air second floor.
“Liam, come on up.” A voice called to me as I came to a stop at the base of the stairs. Looking towards the voice, I spotted the speaker readily.
When I’d last seen Cerebaton, he was easily eight feet tall and nearly half that wide, with a rack of elk antlers that added another two feet to his height. Now, though, he looked more like someone training for a modern reboot of Rocky, but not for the main role.
Instead, Cerebaton looked a lot more like Drago from the same movie. Pale skinned with blond hair and a chiseled jaw. He still had the same muscular build, just compacted into a six and a half foot frame rather than the eight foot tall one. He even had the same spiky, flat-top hairdo that Drago did for the movie. The big man was even dressed in a skintight lycra shirt in a dark-green and a pair of jogging pants rather than his normal business suit.
“Cerebaton?”
“Yup, come on up. I heard most of it from Ms. Davies, but I wanted to hear it from you as well.” The big man’s voice was even deeper in this form, so I hurried up to meet him.
The upper floor of the gazebo was actually fairly clean. Last time I was up here, it had been littered with old beer cans, cigarette butts, and assorted trash. Cerebaton was standing towards the center of the empty space with a wooden replica of an arming sword in each hand, one of which he tossed to me.
I dropped it. I did try to catch it, but it was close enough to look like an actual weapon that my brain went on autopilot, screaming that the blade was sharp and I tried to grab for the handle.
“Okay, so you are at least safety conscious,” Cerebaton sighed. He held the other copy of the same wooden weapon at the ready. “Ms. Davies told me that you wanted to improve your sword skills to act as a stopgap until your abilities grow?”
I picked up the dropped practice weapon and checked it for nicks or scratches before realizing it was going to get beaten up anyway with what Cerebaton was obviously planning. So I got my grip settled and squared up with him before I answered the question.
“Yes, and no. The world that the girls are calling me to is more…sword and sorcery, I suppose? I would love to just bring a gun with me and call that good. I’m sure I could protect them a lot better with even just a pump-action shotgun.”
“But you don’t have access to the Dimensional Pocket ability,” Cerebaton finished the statement with a nod of understanding. “We are going to spar in slow motion. Do not swing hard or fast, just focus on keeping a steady motion and show me how you move. I need to know what I’m working with.”
“Understood.” I made a clumsy lunge at him, moving at what I estimated to be a quarter normal speed, which felt like a sluggish crawl to me. I still felt off balance by the weighted replica, and that was further exacerbated by Cerebaton smoothly blocking with his weapon, moving slowly as well.
“It’s smart to have training in weapons like this, anyway. You never know when you will need to be quiet. Human firearms are loud and flashy. They have their place in some situations, but in others it is less good,” Cerebaton coached as we moved from slow clash to slow clash. This close, I noticed that his eyes were still the same bright yellow as they had been when he was in his regular form.
“Yeah, I had to take down one kobold on the quiet, since the girls' spells would have been too loud and drawn others to us or not guaranteed a silent kill. I don’t know when I’ll get that ability to store stuff to move between worlds. It could be tomorrow, it could be in six months from now. I might never get it. I don’t wanna risk one of them because I was being lazy,” I answered, moving to chop down at Cerebaton’s thigh.
He shifted my attack out of the way easily and flicked his sword up to tap my wrist lightly, still moving in slow motion but managing to surprise me. The motion had all been in his wrist; he hadn’t even shifted his shoulder at all, just rolled his wrist and let the weight of the weapon guide it.
“Good. Being a protector requires proper polish and dedication, after all. You will need to learn a martial style as well, to properly master your Shape-Shifting in combat. Have you been practicing to smooth its growth?” We reset as Cerebaton asked that and continued.
“Off and on when I have time. I need to do some research to get animal examples of the traits I want. The problem is that most animals in the human world keep their deadliest weapons in their mouths and I really don’t wanna go biting monsters.”
“It is rather disgusting, and sometimes dangerous depending on the animal. Some are toxic, so you will need to rely on your local experts to let you know if it is dangerous. Especially if you are going to be working with these two for a long time.” Cerebaton waited for me to lunge forward and turned into the lunge, using his blade as a shield to guide it away as he came around with his free arm to throw a mock elbow into my head. “Remember, your blade isn’t your only weapon. The inexperienced will focus on it and forget that you have other methods of attack. Moreso for you, since you can add them on the fly.”
“Understood.”
We went silent for the next half hour as Cerebaton put me through a series of spars that showed me just how little I knew about swords. I tried a few of the tricks from the YouTube videos that I’d seen that were worthwhile, but my grip on the sword was still unsteady, and Cerebaton defeated them every time. His expression remained carefully neutral the entire time. The evening fell in around us and the city streetlights popped on with a quiet buzz, moths beginning to swarm around the yellow lights.
After the first half hour, Cerebaton called for us to take a break and I was glad for it. Sweat was pouring down my face and my arms were trembling from the exertion of swinging the weapon around in slow but steady motions. My shoulders protested the added strain as well, not being used to dealing with the odd weight of the sword. While I leaned against one of the posts supporting the gazebo roof, Cerebaton rubbed his chiseled jaw with one large hand while he stared into the distance.
“I can teach you enough that you can start to develop your own style,” Cerebaton said after a long moment of silence. “There are established sword styles, but they would stymie your growth, in my opinion. Because your body is malleable, you will have opportunities that others will not. You just need to see them and learn to use them.”
“Such as?” I panted, using the practice sword as a cane to support myself while I worked on getting my breathing under control.
Rather than answer me clearly, Cerebaton held his sword out with a flourish and made several strikes in midair to illustrate his range of motion. He paused and gave me a pointed look, before repeating them all and his arm literally folded in reverse like his elbow didn’t exist at all. It doubled his effective striking range and changed the angles he could swing at if needed.
“Just one trick I picked up by combining weapon work with the amount of Shape-Shifting that I have mastered. The challenge will be finding your moment to strike, as well as inspiration for what you could do. Hardening parts of your body to protect from impact or slices, covering your hand in an organic gauntlet to catch and deflect a weapon strike,” Cerebaton lectured. He continued to move through a smooth series of strikes that made me think of a martial arts kata. “Your limits are the creativity you put into it, and how much you are willing to practice and research options.”
“Fair enough. How much is it going to cost me for lessons? I need to know more than ‘pointy end goes in the other guy’ with weapons and how they work before I start improvising.” I had managed to get my breath back and stood up, shouldering the practice sword once more while Cerebaton brought his form to an end.
“You don’t have to pay anything. I can bill this back to the DSR as overtime to help resolve the issue caused by the laxity of one of our employees. At least for now. Bringing you up to speed and on your way as a Traveler is important enough that no one will question it.” Cerebaton shrugged slightly, though I saw a slight smile on his thin lips. “The real question is going to be how dedicated you are to this? I believe I can spare you two nights a week for a few hours. More than that will cause issues, though. This will give you the foundation to start building on and allow you to practice on your own the other nights. For now, I can guarantee my help for a few months at that rate.”
I considered it for only a moment before agreeing with a nod. I needed all the help I could get. From the fluidity of his motions, it was clear that the daemon knew what he was doing.
“Where do we start?”
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Cerebaton drilled me for another two hours, well into the evening and past the point the park was normally closed. The dim light from the nearby street-lamps illuminated us enough that I could keep up, but after it got too dark to spar, he just worked me through drills. Given it was the first night, he focused on a series of exercises that would help the sword feel more natural in my hand and guide me to swing it properly. Cerebaton also spent a bit of time teaching me a drill that I could do at home.
“There are six general quadrants you can attack from. Above, the sides, and from below, on the right and left sides of each,” Cerebaton explained slowly, pointing to his right and left shoulders; the right and left sides of his hips; and then patting his right and left thighs. “If you number them off from one to six, going from right to left before dropping down and repeating, you have your attack zones. Right shoulder is one, the left is two, right hip is three and so on. Anywhere in those quadrants can be targeted, but the motion is roughly the same for each zone. For now, just go through it in slow motion, striking the zones one through six. The goal right now is to make the motion of swinging the sword more natural for you. Eventually, we will start doing it during a duel. I will call out zones for you to attack and you are to select a target in that zone and do your best to get past my defenses.”
“Won’t that condition me to attack certain places if people are shouting numbers at me?” I asked while making slow, chopping attacks into the air in a one through six pattern, throwing a single swing at each of the zones while Cerebaton watched to make sure I was keeping my strikes organized.
“Not something that happens during fighting. And, if we do it right, you’ll only be responding that way to my voice doing it. I highly doubt there will be a reason for us to fight, unless you decide to do something stupid with Ms. Davies.” Cerebaton had relaxed as we practiced, the normally stiff and serious attitude that I’d seen before on him fading away as he slowly worked up a sweat while we clashed. That serious glare came back in full force in a moment, though. His face was stiff with the promise of injury or death, and his tone was cold.
“Cariad is a good person and is someone I consider a friend. No worries there,” I reassured him, focusing on the drill I was going through rather than his glare.
“Good, I just wanted to make sure my point was clear regarding my subordinate. She actually wanted to be here to make sure I wouldn’t ‘bully’ you. Did you know that?” The seriousness fled like a bird taking flight, being replaced with idle amusement. I had to fight not to sigh in relief at the change in mood, so I decided to add to the levity.
“Were you planning to bully me? Is this bullying? My bruises would say yes.” While we had been sparring at slow speeds, Cerebaton would occasionally whack my legs or arms if I fell out of the stance he had been training me to use.
“No, bullying would be just forcing you to spar with me at full speed. I’ll save that for at least our third appointment.” Cerebaton sent me a grin that was full of wicked amusement and the promise of a bruised ego. Thankfully, I wasn’t worried about it. My ego could take a back seat for now. Any injuries it received would be worth it the next time I had to step in front of the girls to protect them.
“Is it ridiculous that I would rather fight monsters than work my day job if I was given a choice?” I asked out of the blue, the question having been simmering in my chest and the back of my mind since Sunday. The last twenty-four hours hadn’t really helped settle it.
“Two strikes, one-one, one-two, one-three.” Cerebaton began calling out, his expression going thoughtful as I moved into the now familiar part of the drill.
He let me run through the drill once fully before he responded.
“Not really. Some people are born for slower paced lives without the threat to their survival and the challenge of the world. There is nothing wrong with that. But some people.” He gave me a pointed look. “Some are born with the spirit of the storm within their blood. Restless harbingers of violence and battle that feel strangled in times of peace. But they are needed as surely as those who can embrace rest and peace with open arms, as someone must stand watch atop the walls of society to protect those who are still growing. I think you are just more at home within the strife than most of your kind.”
“Poetic.”
“It’s something that has come up. My people haven’t fought a war in a very long time, but we haven’t truly been at peace for just as long. We skirmish along the borders of reality, clashing sometimes with empires, cults, and peoples who seek to destabilize their reality or others for things as lofty as a divine mandate, and as lowly as petty revenge. So even if I wanted to embrace peace and just push paper behind a desk, it’s not likely something I would get the choice over.” Cerebaton shrugged after he finished speaking, as if he had come to terms with his lifestyle some time ago.
Silence ensued for another few minutes while I went through the exercise again.
“It’s reassuring to know I’m not weird then,” I said, finishing with a matching pair of strikes into the number six zone.
“Oh, rest assured Liam. You are quite weird.” Cerebaton cracked a grin at me that made his yellow eyes dance mischievously. “I mean, think about it. You travel between dimensions at the beck and call of entities not of your species. Your body is malleable in a fashion that would give scientists and geneticists aneurysms just to consider, let alone if you were to demonstrate it for them. Add in the fact that you spent your weekend fighting monsters, before going back to your regular day job. You then use a dimension-spanning, mystical supercomputer to contact another extra-dimensional entity for lessons in swordsmanship.”
“I suppose when you put it that way, I’m pretty weird,” I laughed in response. Cerebaton chuckled along with me, a rich and deep sound that made me think it would be the sort of noise a bison might make if the animal could laugh.
“Well, you should wrap up here. Go home and take a hot shower, but make sure to switch it back to cold for at least a minute before you get out. That will help your muscles not be as sore tomorrow,” Cerebaton coached when he finished laughing. “Take the practice swords with you. They are safe to remain here. I will meet you here in two days for your next session. I need to do some shuffling with my schedule to open up set evenings, so the dates during the week may change, but I can swing at least two nights a week to help you get on your way.”
“Thanks Cerebaton. I owe you one.” I accepted his practice sword and stacked it with the other one. Next time, I’d need to bring a gym bag or something to wrap around them. Even made of wood, walking down the street with a pair of swords over my shoulder was going to look odd and attract attention.
“Nonsense. I’m being paid overtime by the department for this, and you have the right mindset. Plus, if you excel, then it will reflect well on my newest subordinate. I am rather happy with how hard Ms. Davies is working right now. Expect to get a surprise from her sometime soon.” Cerebaton waved off my thanks with a small smile.
“A good surprise?” I asked, but he just continued to smirk at me mysteriously.
A car backfiring on the street nearby pulled my gaze away from him, and when I looked back to where Cerebaton had been standing in the middle of the gazebo, he was gone.
I couldn’t help the snark at that moment though. While clomping down the stairs from the gazebo to the ground, I grumbled under my breath.
“Does he think he’s Batman or something?”
