ALL NOVEL Chapter-192 Stubborn Desperation
‘His weapons led a Reaper’s way’, Ewan read in Perceval’s book as he strolled through the corridors. Its details birthed an idea that he wanted to try, and if he succeeded, it could strengthen his Elementalist subtype.
The assistance of artifacts often tipped the balance in a heated battle, or it saved Starons a headache in tricky situations—they shared the same level of respect as other major streams, like Potioneering. But unlike potions, they remained an external help. Even with the widest growth margin, a Staron would eventually outgrow an artifact. They all had a ceiling beyond which they couldn’t accommodate their Starons anymore.
The Reaper’s path, however, faced the issue head-on and made the artifacts its core—the Reaper strengthened his weapons, and it fed him back. And Ewan wanted its essence. If he could deconstruct the system and flip it, he could create a spell that would gift him an artifact for life, an artifact that would forever grow with him…
The thought enticed him, and he couldn’t put it down. He had to test it within the timeframe he had in Vestal.
….
Ewan worked on the Warship with Kidd and Stefan, trained with his Astylinds in the training hall, brewed potions to polish his skills, studied the new spells in his arsenal, learned Kaaleria, and tested the new theory in the hours his other tasks left him. His reliance on sleep had already diminished, and with the sun as he was, the concept of days and nights blurred. A chug of the vigor potion removed what little fatigue he built up, and his machine pumped nonstop.
“Boss.” Kidd interrupted him in the training hall when he put down his diary, finishing his notes on the spells he practiced. “Do you want to take a rest?” he asked.
“What happened?” Ewan asked back.
“Nothing…well…something did happen.” Kidd tittered and scratched his head.
Ewan sighed. “What trouble did you guys brew now?”
“It’s not us this time, its Lance,” Kidd said. “He seems to have made his decision.”
“Is he going to stay in Vestal?” Ewan asked, walking out with Kidd and up to the top deck. “Lostrax is not far from here, it’s a good place for him to settle.”
“Uh…you should see for yourself,” Kidd said, and led him to the edge, where the port was within his view.
The night brought the town to life, the market lit up with clamors, and the port pulled a crowd of workers, going about their jobs. Most of them worked in the shipyard to the side, while some swept the ground. And beside the cemented docks where the Stormfalcon anchored, on the damp area of soil and grass, Lance sat in his casual gear facing the town, a makeshift signboard stabbed in the earth beside him.
‘Please hire me, sir!’ It read on the Stormfalcon’s side with a big exclamation mark.
“‘Off limits’ is written on the other side. He even scared away the kids who were sneaking in to see our ship,” Kidd said. “His ass is really stubborn, Boss.”
Ewan laughed, and soon his chuckles turned into guffaws. The amusement never ended with these three, one was worse than the other, they painted his days in different colors. And even with the emotional coercion of his words and the intangible pressure his public display would bring him, Ewan couldn’t find any distaste for his actions. All he saw was a desperate man hanging by a thread and struggling to keep his will intact.
Logic didn’t agree with him, Lance didn’t have to stay with them. He could find his life anywhere else, anywhere that accepted him with open arms. And yet, Ewan’s rejection would perhaps crush the man.
“What happened?” Stefan joined them on the top deck and asked.
“He’s making a scene,” Kidd said and pointed at Lance who was struggling with the mosquitoes, even though his passive defense could prevent their bites.
Ewan took a deep breath after the hearty laughter and rubbed his teary eyes with a chuckle or two escaping him. “Tell him to go hunt, we’ll have rabbits for dinner,” he said and walked away.
….
They sat around the wooden dining table in the lounge again, tearing the rabbit’s smoky meat off the bones and licking the fatty juices mingled with the spices and a squeeze of lemon—the hint of char added another dimension. A sharp but sweet ale went on the side to cut the richness, and they feasted to their hearts’ content inside the quietude and the safety of the Warship.
“Do you know most Vestal people can't read common tongue? They don’t know what you’ve written on your board,” Ewan said, ripping off another leg along with the thigh, and chomped away. “You’ll just attract them more with your antics.”
“I-I don’t know Kaaleria, sir. And I didn’t have anything else to do, so I thought I should at least guard the ship,” Lance said, his head down and buried in his food as he gnawed on the bones.
“Do you think I’ll agree if you do this?” Ewan asked. “Emotional coercion and public pressure can trigger the wrong response. You didn’t think about that?”
“I…couldn’t think of anything else,” Lance said. “I am sorry, sir, if I caused you any trouble. I will remove the signboard right away.”
“You already did the damage you could do,” Ewan said. “How will you repay for that?”
“Anything you ask for, sir, I will do it,” Lance said and looked up at him.
“Weren’t you aiming for that? Your cunning runs really deep,” Kidd said, commenting with his mouthfuls and spitting all over Stefan who sat in front.
“I really wasn’t…I’m not smart enough to think that far,” Lance said.
“Schemes aren’t bad, it’s a necessary tool for survival. Unless you can crush anything and everything with sheer force, you need to know your way around plots and ploys,” Ewan said, wiping his hand and mouth with the towel. “Anyway, I do need your help with something. For the foreseeable days, become my guinea pig.”
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