A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

There was only a single point where they were weak – a bubble of air that sat in the middle of them, the size of a man's eye, requiring a spectacular bit of precision in order to get through. Oliver achieved it anyway – just as it came to be whole once more, he shaved off the edge of the bubble, popping it and removing the monster's sentience along with it.

Within an instant, it was reduced to a puddle of water that bled down through the dry forest floor.

Where there was one, there appeared another ten more, squeaking their dismay at seeing their fallen friend. They came out from the long grass like a tribe of blubbery warriors, showing off their teeth, and waving their arms.

Then, they began to throw themselves up one by one, reaching heights higher than Oliver's head, their teeth sharp enough to do significant damage should they land.

He killed the first two as they launched themselves, but the third managed to reach all the way to his shoulder, landing there with a jelly-like bounce, before going straight towards the bottom of his ear, and digging in with a mighty chomp.

"Tsch," Oliver tutted. It was a minor wound, and easily enough dealt with, but it was still irritating. The little creature had chomped a hole straight through his ear lobe like a piercing, and was busy chewing around the mouthful as it angled itself for the next attack. Oliver dealt with it a quick swing later.

More were coming, though, and he couldn't afford to make the same mistake again. They tended to group together in parties of ten, but they could reach parties up to twenty.

They were the sort of creature that was far more dangerous for the lone traveller than it was for a whole party, even if that party were of the weaker sort. They simply needed a volume of attacks to beat them, since their defences were nonexistent. Still, there was a certain still barrier in the amount of precision needed to reach them, which Oliver quickly discovered.

He had to furrow his brow in concentration in order to meet the next wave. He'd put too much on his last attacks, and that had cost him. He needed to be light and evasive. They didn't need a proper swing of the sword, just the lightest touch.

He went higher on his toes to compensate, pleased that he didn't have to worry about deep snow – that would have slowed him down far more if he'd had to fight them there.

When they came, it was Blackthorn that he imitated. Unless a slash could kill two at once, he didn't even consider it. A slash took far more time to recover from than a thrust, and in that time these little monsters would be climbing up his leg, or digging their way through his cheek.

He burst the first one straight through, the lightest touch. It felt more like he was prodding the creature with a finger than a sword, but the blow was fatal regardless, reducing it to mere droplets of water descending from the sky.

That light thrust hardly cost him anything. With his superior speed, he was able to jab the next two before they could even think of nearing him, far faster now that he'd made his striking more efficient.

Then, he whirled on his foot. Not because he knew something was there – none of his senses had told him there would be – but instead because he expected there would be. With the amount of concentration he'd spent dealing with the front three, he had to turn even if he wasn't sure, for he was well aware of just how exposed his back was. Explore more stories with My Virtual Library Empire

He was lucky he had. As hard to track as those creatures were, they'd managed to sneak seven through the tall grass and behind him, and they were all already flying through the air towards him.

He took a step back, giving himself more time, but not putting himself entirely out of their trajectory. He was bold enough to assume that he could deal with them all before they landed. Another challenge, in a week of progress – it elated him. To find a problem, and then apply the wave that he was riding in order to solve it.

He'd already found the solution – the light thrust – the delight was in its confirmation.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

As quick as lightning, he pierced them all at once. It was likely the most amount of strikes he'd ever executed in the shortest amount of time. Never in his combat career had it proven necessary to fight like that – with such light thrusts, that seemed unlikely to do any damage to a real foe – but it was an interesting way of movement nonetheless.

More exciting for its theoretical application than its practical application.

In a cloud of rain, Oliver achieved his victory and gave a brief thought to reflection, wondering how he might incorporate that new technique into something new. Nothing came to him in that moment, but it didn't trouble him. He knew that, eventually, should he need it, that the solution would already be there waiting for him.

With the water sprites dealt with, he moved on, dabbing at the blood dripping from his ear. He allowed himself a brief smile. How shocking it would be for the people of the Academy to hear that Oliver Patrick had been wounded by a Water Sprite of all creatures. They no doubt considered them to be even weaker than goblins, given the propensity of people to fight them in groups.

No more water sprites attacked him as he went. Even if they had, Oliver did not think that they would have troubled him now. Like the Gock, once one developed a solution to their gimmick, they were rendered almost helpless.

The change to Wood Sprite territory was marked by the return of snow. One would think that it would be the opposite, given the nature of the Wood Sprite, and its tree-like appearance.@@novelbin@@

But whilst the Wood Sprite indeed favoured areas with Water Sprites in, they didn't wish to dwell in Water Sprite territory itself, but right on the edge of it, so they could make use of it when they needed it, whilst making their true dwelling elsewhere.