Drip-Fed

 

Apexus landed after ten minutes of aimless soaring. Violently, he crashed down on all fours. His knees popped out of their sockets, to be repaired by his nature a moment thereafter. Clenching his teeth, he rose to his feet and immediately hurled his fist at a nearby tree. The healthy bark cut into his knuckles. A second, then a third punch followed. Each he felt all the way up to his shoulder. Each wore down the tree.

At the fourth punch the thought dawned on him ‘Why am I doing this?’ but it was only a small voice, too distant to demand an answer. Again and again, he slammed his fist into the tree. Bark burst, wood splintered, bit for bit he made his way through the trunk. ‘Why am I doing this?!’ The question echoed in his mind a second time, more urgently this time.

Apexus stopped. It was too late for the tree. The trunk was utterly obliterated in the section the slime had targeted. Tilting, accelerating, then falling, the weight of the upper half caused a gradual collapse. The crown got stuck in another tree, disturbing a pair of birds sitting up there.

Instinctively, the slime prepared to eat the tree. He did not kill unless he wanted to eat or he had no choice. Those were the two universal rules he applied to everything outside of dungeons. If he left that tree rotting there, he would have broken them.

A rustling nearby caught the slime’s attention. His fox ear turned first, then his head followed. He spied a group of kids, staring at him. The moment they made eye contact, they turned tail and ran. The expression the humanoid slime was making would have intimidated even the greatest of brats. Kids had good instincts and they knew when it was better to be somewhere else.

They didn’t have far to flee. Their house was nearby. Many houses were nearby. Not clustered as it would have been in a proper city or even a town square, but enough to make sure that this was an area owned and regularly observed by people. There was no way he would get to devour that tree without being caught.

Nourishing the storm in his core further, Apexus turned and stomped away. He was too agitated to take off again and the question still remained: ‘Why did I do that?’

Because, it soon surfaced, it was the only thing he could do. The true target of his rage was an eternity away, unreachable in all ways that mattered. No other outlet existed than impotently hurling his fists at whatever was in front of him.

‘What a vile solution,’ Apexus thought, disgusted at himself. He had lost control, completely, at the memory of Gizmo. Terror and anger had taken over and he had fled. His core was held in the grip of insecurity. ‘Why can’t I solve this myself?’ That was a question every sapient being struggled with. That fact didn’t help the slime at that moment. A different problem was more pertinent at the moment, ‘Should I go back?’

Assuming they would even let him back in, he wasn’t sure what he would do when faced with that old man again. Would he just be overtaken by a surge of rage again? At the same time, he couldn’t afford to waste this day doing nothing. He needed a teacher, if he was to keep up with Aclysia and Reysha. Magic was too potent to not utilize it in combat. What elevated him over the rest of the sapient species wouldn’t be enough to keep him at the apex of a level bracket forever.

If he came back without any results, what would his loves think? They would be disappointed in him and that was something the slime couldn’t bear. At the same time, he couldn’t head back. Not to that old, outwardly friendly man.

‘I will head to the other schools,’ he thought. There wouldn’t be an issue if he found another Class to be taught. With the worming doubt in his heart, he headed out to find wherever they taught something else.

He reached the Hunter’s school first. The teacher greeted him as if he was expecting him and gave him a quick tour of the basics. Apexus was guided to where they kept the training animals, tamed wolves primarily. The slime made quick friends with them and thought that this perhaps could have been the path forwards. Once he was handed a bow, that impression was quickly eliminated. The wood and the string both felt alien in his hand. Pulling back an arrow was unintuitive. He was alright at aiming, but he just couldn’t figure out the right amount of force to use before loosing the arrow. Either he over or underestimated what was needed. On the last attempt, he pulled so hard the wood snapped.

Apexus apologized and offered to pay for the replacement. The teacher denied, just like he denied needing any payment for the test itself. Thinking this was just how things were done around here, Priest school aside, the slime moved on.

Next, he found the Shaman school. The school was odd from the start. Rather than a building, the school was made up of various stone formations, painted with crude colours. It was neither nature nor civilization. Apexus found the space in between unnerving. Despite this, he moved on, avoiding the alternatives. Once more, the teacher greeted him respectfully and showed him around. Shamanism had more magical components and could therefore not be demonstrated in a day. Instead, the teacher had him partake in a small ceremony, showing another student communing with nature spirits. With the help of his elders, the student managed to clear the sky above for a minute. The entirety of the stone formations buzzed with energy. A vast amount of preparation was required to influence the weather.

The chimera was once more sent on his way without a single coin exchanging hands.

The Druid school next door had a very similar feel, albeit they were closer to pure nature. Their dens were in a self-made system of tunnels that mimicked the colonies of ants. To get a feel for his aptness for the Class, Apexus was placed alone in a room with a squirrel. His task was to communicate with it. Although the slime easily managed to get the small critter to sit on his hand, he had absolutely no idea how to go further. After twenty minutes, he left the school, all of his money still untouched.

After a bit of a walk, he reached the Mage School. It was more an act of desperation than anything else that made him even enter in the first place. The teacher seemed bored, but gave him a tour anyway. Only when he showed the slime the library of arcane works in their possession, did the teacher show any level of interest. Apexus didn’t share any enthusiasm for the dead paper. The tour ended early, when the Mage aptly pointed out that this was not Apexus’ path.

Finally, he reached the grounds of the Brawler and Warrior schools. Both were located in the same fortress, a grey stone building that had within it various complexes that lent themselves to different kinds of combat practice. Apexus went to the Brawlers first. When they made him fight, he felt at ease there. Swords and axes were nothing for him, but they did allow him to fight with only his fists. All around him, burly humanoids with rough attitudes kept talking about violence. That part Apexus loathed. What made him finally quit though was when he, during a demonstration of his physical power, was advised to channel whatever made him punch harder.

It was anger, the same anger that he attempted to escape from, that let him deliver a punch so hard it broke the wooden target. The teacher complimented him, and Apexus announced he would be leaving. This was not what he wanted to do. When he offered, again, to pay for the damages, he was told it didn’t matter by the surprised teacher.

When he reached the Warrior school, the slime was already too demoralized to really try. He took a pause outside wondering, ‘I hate weapons, should I even bother?’ The main job of a Warrior was to cover an area and make it impossible to ignore them while also staying up no matter what was thrown at them. Defensiveness was the primary requirement for this job, but range was also important.

A certain kobold proved that this wasn’t all there was to it though. A certain kobold that tugged at Apexus’ pants to get his attention. “Hello? Apex? You there?” she asked, after her initial greeting had gone ignored.

The slime turned his head and blinked when he noticed her. “Korith, hello,” he greeted her, his voice reflecting the disheartening events of the day. “We looked for you this morning.”

“Oh, did you?” Korith couldn’t help but respond chirpily at that revelation. “Sorry, I was just so eager to get training, I couldn’t sleep and then I headed out way too early!”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you where I’m staying some time.”

“After you head inside?” Korith asked. “Vulk – that’s my teacher – said someone should get you inside already, so I went to get you.”

“Am I in the way of something?” Apexus asked, looking around. They were on a broad stone path in the courtyard of the fortress. It was barren, some empty weapon stands aside. Notable about it were only the two open gates that lead to the respective schools. To the right, the direction from which Korith had come, Apexus saw the Warriors train with sword and shield. He thought he could keep standing there without disturbing anyone.

“No, but you are being kind of weird, just standing and staring,” Korith confessed. “Plus, there was this old guy that told us you were coming.”

“Oh,” Apexus had no other reaction to both revelations. Inside, the rage rose up again and gradually overtook the tiredness. “I need to go. I’ll see you soon,” he promised and turned around.

“S-sure?” Korith stammered, not sure what to make of the tall slime’s current behaviour.

Once out on the open street, Apexus spread his wings and took off. He flew in the direction of his new home. Not because he wanted to get to the house, but because it was the least inhabited part of the entire island. After thirty minutes of flying, he landed in a clearing. “Come out!” he shouted randomly into the woods.

Maltos, the old monk, stepped out from behind a tree immediately and walked up to Apexus. “I take it someone told you of my meddling?” he asked in a calm tone, a smile on his lips.

Fist clenching, the slime tried to ignore the urge to punch the traitorous face he saw behind those friendly wrinkles. “Why?” he demanded to know.

“Because it appeared you needed it,” Maltos told him. “Would you walk with me, Apexus?” The old man made an inviting gesture. Not knowing what else to do, the slime took a step and the old man swiftly took two, leading the way. “You are not human, are you?” he asked and chuckled. “Apologies, I should ask this another way: you’re not a creation of our gods, are you?”

Apexus became rigid, but kept moving. “What makes you think that?”

“Your movements in the temple were unusual. Regular newcomers have to stretch their sinews for weeks before they can execute the stances properly. You just learned them,” Maltos began his explanation. “Then there’s your knuckles. That kind of regenerative factor is highly unusual. The gods usually hold each other to account when they create a species, you must know. You are strong and regenerate quickly, you have wings, you have excellent senses, and I can still feel the magic radiate from you. All of this without having any training in any Class. The gods would never create a being like you, not as a species anyway.” Maltos looked over his shoulder, his eyes measuring the slime intensely. “And you do not have a Spark. There’s traces of man and demon in you, but nothing like what the gods imbue us with.”

Apexus stopped now, anticipating whatever followed to be violent. “You are smart,” he complimented the old man. It was the truth.

“When you live over a hundred years, you pick up a few things that the average human misses,” Maltos responded calmly. He put his arms behind his back, while facing Apexus. That was the least threatening pose he could make. “I will not tell anyone, Apexus.”

The slime blinked several times. “Why?”

“Because you are not a monster,” the monk responded immediately and resumed the walk. For several steps, Apexus just remained there, until Maltos stopped again and waved. “Come along, we still need to talk.”

“I do not trust you,” the slime stated outright.

“That is what I aim to change. Come along, there’s better places to talk.” Maltos waved again and this time Apexus obliged. There was no sense in trying to run away. No matter how far past his prime the monk looked, he was still fast enough to keep up with and even get ahead of Apexus the entire day. “Have you found out what Class is most akin to the Monk?” he suddenly repeated the question of his lesson earlier.

Apexus’ fists were still clenched tightly. “The Brawler,” he responded.

“An interesting answer, what makes you think that?”

“Monks appear to be all about controlling your emotions. Brawlers let their emotions control them, just to punch harder.”

“That is correct,” Maltos responded in a cheerful tone. “A Monk will always try to remain level-headed and find a solution through the power of their will. Brawlers, Berserkers most of all, utilize the power of their instincts to break through their limitations. A Monk that cannot control his anger loses what makes him powerful. Although, it should be said, even Monks can channel their excessive emotions. Control must be maintained.”

They reached a lake. It was a peculiar one, located in a depression that looked stamped into the ground. Unsteady stone walls surrounded the body of water, reaching even above the rim. Maltos jumped on top of the wall and swiftly sat down. Patting the place next to him, he told the slime to do the same.

“Something about me fills you with wrath and dread,” Maltos said, while Apexus climbed on top of the stone. Once he sat, the teacher grabbed a loose chunk of rock and tossed it down into the lake below. “You are disturbed, your actions unfocused.” Apexus looked down at his reflection, broken up into several layers by the waves. “Yet, when faced with all other choices, you did not pick any of them, not even the one that let you use that anger as a weapon.” Slowly, the surface of the pond smoothed over again. “This is the question you must ask yourself, Apexus: do you wish to be in control or do you wish to avoid your internal conflict?”

“I want to be in control,” the humanoid slime responded immediately.

“Then are you willing to make the necessary sacrifices to address your own shortcomings?”

The slime hesitated for a long while. “I must.”

“Yes, you must, the world will leave you no other choice,” Maltos agreed with a nod, “but that is not what I asked. Are you willing to do it?”

Apexus forced his hand to relax. “I can’t be unreliable. I’m willing.”

“Then tell me why you cannot trust me.”

“Because you are like the last man who taught me. A man who turned out to be a monster.”

“But I am not that man.”

“You could turn out to be.”

“Tell me about him,” Maltos nudged.

Apexus remained silent, wondering if he could do that. Sharing the story with the teacher was likely necessary to get his support against the Deathhound. Yet, doing so right now may be too early. “I shouldn’t,” he responded ultimately. “I need to think.”

Nodding approvingly, Maltos grabbed another stone and tossed it. This one skipped over the surface a number of times, before sinking with relative peace. “You are not the first student I have had who carries with them great burdens,” he assured. “Old men like me are good to confide in. We’ve heard and seen a lot. If you are willing to share your story, I am willing to listen.” Maltos raised his hand to pat Apexus on the back, but stopped when the slime shrunk away from the gesture. With a soft smile, the monk withdrew his arm. Instead, he got up, “I see great potential in you. A smart head, a mouth that moves only after the thoughts have concluded, a strong body, and a confused, but gentle spirit. It would be my honour to teach you the way of the Monk. Come by whenever you are ready.”

Before Apexus could respond, Maltos took a massive leap and landed in the crown of a nearby tree. He landed with impossible softness and leapt again from the thin branches, leaving them all intact. Within seconds, he had vanished from Apexus’ field of view.

The slime was left pondering over his reflection in the lake.