Back in the day… my master had taught me martial arts, he had also taught me the ways of the spear, sword, and staff. I had been a diligent student. I had learned the kata, memorized the motions to the point where my body knew what to do.

  Only…

  ‘You have no talent for this.’ He’d said.

  And he was right.

  The wicker chief had talent in spades. He moved as if his sword was part of him, flowing between strikes with such grace, like he was a river and I a stone. He cut and carved, and only through my training was I surviving the onslaught.

  Even then, as my feet shifted and moved. The soggy ground now frozen as my magic leaked out, provided just enough solid ground that I didn’t slip. Nor did the wet ground suck me in.

  The chief was barefoot. His entire body shifting with a slight adjustment of his legs and toes. He moved with such precision, he didn’t need to think about his move or counter. Even with the ice speeding up my perception, making me move with nigh perfect accuracy, there was still a delay.

  I was being pushed back. I had enough knowledge and foresight to see that without a significant change, that I would not only lose, but be cut down in a few dozen strikes.

  He was playing with me. Pushing me back with idle ease. I was stuck in his rhythm. A leaf in a tornado, being thrown to and fro. At any second my failing body would give. Only through the blessing of ice could I push through.

  I lamented. I cried out. I remembered my master’s words with startling clarity. Hours after hours of practice, through the harshest of elements without stop or pause. All for naught.

  ‘Hard work beats talent, only when talent doesn’t work hard.’ He’d said at one point. He had always seemed happy that I lacked talent. Not that I blamed him. Considering his past, what had happened to him.

  After all, there was a reason he was living alone. Why his wife and children had abandoned him in his old age.

  Why he told me to never be a hero.

  Not that I had the desire to be a hero. Nor was I one to martyr myself. The wicker chief was being lax, and even if I would lose in a few dozen moves, I knew… I knew an opportunity was present itself, and when it did, I would flee. I would run.

  Would he chase? Would he hunt me down? No… for he only had eyes for Ruth at this moment. I was a mere appetizer. An enjoyable nuisance. A toy…

  It rankled me. Every part of me wanted to retaliate… But unless I had a sudden shift… A sudden gain of talent…

  Talent?

  The sudden thought shook me. Costing me a dozen moves at minimum as the wicker chief pressed in.

  Right… I had silver coins in my pocket. Could that work? Would it?

  A quick assessment told me… no. It wouldn’t. If I were absolute trash at martial arts, a silver coin would only give me an acceptable talent. At least, that’s what it felt like.

  My only other example was sculpting, but was I even talented at it? Had I ever been talented in sculpting? The question gnawed at me, even if it was pointless.

  He continued to swing, beating me back. His strikes were slow and telegraphed, but even that I struggled to keep up with. Like a cat playing with a mouse, he pressed, and like a mouse, I waited for my opening.

  Then it came, a singular powerful blow, one that would transition into the final blow. It was just enough, that when I went for it, it pushed me back a smidge too far, successfully disengaging me.

  The wicker chief looked at me with an amused, but disappointed glint. He didn’t chase, as if to mock me, he just looked at me with a beckoning gaze, head held heigh, blade held low.

  He was taunting me. The smile on his face told me what he would do if I turned my back. He would go for Ruth. Ruth, who was still incapacitated after having been rammed into…

  I didn’t bite. Ruth was on her own from here on out, I had to escape, get out while I still could…

  Just when I took the step away, I saw her. Standing on the rampart. Diva, sweat, wounded. Blood trailing down her lips. She pressed down on the trigger of her cassette and yelled into the mic.

  “FIGHT!” Her words echoed out, a tune, music, began to play.

  Was it an accident?

  Was it malicious?

  I couldn’t begin to understand what was going through Diva’s mind when she gave that command. The command hit me with the force of a truck, shattering the already fragile ice protecting my mind. It filled me to the brim with power, filled me with new life. I imagined, no, I didn’t imagine it. I could feel my beleaguered body recover, ever so slightly.

  Not just that, but all I could think about, was fighting.

  Ice crawled, trying to bury those foreign emotions. Before it could meet the gunpowder, I had buried underneath, before it could touch the bottled-up frustration and hate. The fury that demanded I push myself at the beast like a raging berserker.

  It hit…

  Then, she began to sing.

  Like gasoline to fire, my power blossomed. My entire being ignited on fire.

  Rational thought fled. The world slowed to a stop as my mind rampaged through the countless possibilities. Landing on something so completely out there, so completely child-ish that I had not only buried it under the ice, but deep under the cold depths of the lake I had once fallen in.

  A dream. A desire. That even now thumped like the tell-tale heart buried in the earth.

  Her song spoke to it, ignited it.

  As a child, even as an adult, I had ice skated. As a child, those dreams had been snuffed out when the ice fell under me. As an adult, it was the only way I had to properly relieve stress when the world felt too much.

  But it was more than that…

  When I skate, it felt like I was flying, like the problems of the world fled away, but… That wasn’t the core of my desire for it. No… It was something else.

  I remember, when I was a child. My parents, being rich, often went to see the ballet. Though, they never much paid the performance much attention, instead opting to use the chance to discuss business with others, under the guise of having just happened to be placed together.

  While they never watched, I did.

  The dancing, the music, how emotion and story could be conveyed with simple motions. All of it spoke to me, but… what truly spoke to me was…

  The spotlight. Or what lay under the spotlight. The prima ballerina. The leading lady of a sort. Seeing how everyone worked around her, seemingly moved according to her whim. How everyone solely focused on her.

  For a child who so desired to be noticed… How could that not be seen as desirable?

  How many ballets had I seen? How many had I snuck too whenever I could, no matter the cost? Sure, the ice rink was where I could lose myself, but the ballet was where I could dream.

  How this helped… no, it really didn’t. But… because of Diva, all I could do was fight. And the only way I could possibly think it would work, was… if I made a change.

  It was a gamble, and yet… I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind. A portion of my brain thought that, reminded me of that, even as my rational mind did, it also cackled in glee.

  I reached into my pocket. Sensing my motion, worried for what it may lead too, the wicker chief shot forward. Everything moved in slow motion as I grabbed the coin and retrieved it. My feet moved, as I slid back.

  In a single motion, I flicked the coin. A trace of magic pulsed through it, even as my lips moved.

  “INU!” I cried out, the name coming to me all too easily. “Grant me the talent of… dance!”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Rationality crackled, even as the coin exploded into countless motes of silver light. Then, a voice filled my ears.

  “Wan, wan! I normally don’t do this for a rabbit, but what a wonderful choice, haa~ haa~!, I look forward to seeing how this works out!” A bark, followed by the pants belonging to a dog filled my ears, rang in my skull with startling clarity.

  Then, the motes of light crashed into me.

  The change was startling. A shift in my feet, a shift of my body, a sway of my hips. Not only did I meet the blade, but I rebounded, pushing them back. I stepped and frowned, shifting my weight subtly, altering how I moved. Every breath felt wrong, I adjusted, every motion shifted and changed.

  For an instant… I remembered my childhood. Long hours learning to dance. I could hear my instructor speaking, her voice commanding, her tone slow and thoughtful. I could hear her now, guiding me through my steps. Telling me what I was doing wrong. And all at once, I felt the world shift, change.

  With sculpting, there had been a brief momentary warmth in my chest that faded all too quickly. It hadn’t been an obvious improvement. Just subtle hints and bits that I worked through over the months.

  This… this was different. I felt like a barrier had been broken. Like a wall of paper had been obscuring my view of the world and a hole had been punched into it.

  My body burned. It sang out! Like a chained prisoner finally loosed! Heat ripped through my body, chasing away the cold, even as the ice thickened.

  I could feel the distant drums in my body. I could feel the sonorous song of Diva resonating with those drumbeats, singing a song of fighting, of resilience, of a hand in the dark, aiding and bringing with it salvation.

  It was a song of endurance, of celebration, and ultimately, rebellion.

  With a whirl, I crashed into the wicker chief. For a moment, the tide shifted as I pressed, as I flowed from step to step. For a single moment, the wicker chief had all his focus on me as I used my rifle as a baton and staff, all in one. My mind went to the mage I had fought. My body subtly shifting to mimic what he had done to redirect my own blows.

  For a moment, I was supreme. For a single moment, I felt like the star of the show. My heart thumped. My body burned. A wide grin on my face, I slipped under a swing, my own rifle swung back.

  With a loud crack, a deep wumpfh. The butt of my rifle slammed into the wicker chief’s side. I felt something crackle under the blow. His eyes flickered.

  And I felt seen.

  Then it all went to hell.

  He pushed forward, shoving me back with his body. A kick lashed out, nearly smashed into my leg. Only a last second shift saved me as the kick grazed past, cracking into the frozen earth below. The grip on his blade tightened, his eyes narrowed, his grin gone.

  He was being serious. I tried to back off, he swung, just barely missing me, leaving a thin trail of blood on my stomach where he tried to slice me in two halves. However, after the swing, his arm cocked and adjusted.

  He’d stepped in with the swing, closing the distance. I had nowhere to go. Our eyes locked on one another.

  His blade hung in the air, like a sword of Damocles. At any moment it would swing down, at any second it felt like. Had he paused? Had he waited a split second to let it sink in?

  The sadistic grin on his face told me so.

  A thousand thoughts rampaged through my mind. I was ice on the surface, but underneath was a raging river. There was only one potential move. That was what my newly strengthened instinct said, nay, demanded.

  It was going to hurt… but… better hurt then dead.

  He swung, I hit the ground, doing a perfect split. I felt something snap during the motion. The ice doing little for my lacking flexibility. I pulled back in the same motion, arching my back as much as possible, making just the right angle. My hands shot back, stabbing my rifle into the ground just behind, and using it as leverage, I pulled myself further back, arching my back as much as I could.

  My spine protested. Muscles and joints cried out at the abuse. The ice, not only made me brittle, but inflexible. That single motion had nearly every muscle, ligament, and joint crying out.

  Still, I did it. The blade scythed down at an angle. He had tried to adjust, but the suddenness and absolute absurdity of what I had done threw him off. What pain I felt, contorting myself into this position was immediately thrown away when that bone blade whiffed, hovering just above my chest as it swept by.

  Had my breasts been a smidge bigger… I didn’t even want to think about that. I never thought them big or small, but never, ever, never have I ever been so happy they were the size they were as I was now.

  The blade passed, and I moved again. Engaging my screaming core, I flexed and pulled. More muscles resisted and cried out. Snaps and cracks could be felt through my body as my completely unbending body bent under my will. Using my arms as leverage, with my rifle stabbed into the earth, I pulled on it with all I had. Managing to curl myself and throw myself into a back flip.

  With the motion, I pulled out the rifle, spun and by some miracle, landed on my feet.

  The wicker chief stared at me. Giving me the moment I needed for ice to fortify what had shattered. Even then, I had a notable limp. I felt more ice than flesh at this point, and I felt like I would shatter under a stiff breeze.

  Diva was still singing. The drums still beating. And the end was nigh.

  I threw myself forward. My rifle sporting the bayonet of silver. It slashed and cut. Marring his bone blades with nicks wherever it struck.

  But…

  But…

  He wasn’t looking at me anymore. His body had relaxed. His eyes wandered. Even as I pushed.

  Mentally, I swore, over and over and over, until…

  “SHIT!” I cried out in frustration.

  Look at me. Only me! I’m the star here! I wanted to cry that, I wanted to scream that.

  Not just because I needed to be seen, but because…

  Ruth shot out from behind. The side of her head bloodied. A snarl on her lips. Anticipating that, having had the presence of mind to keep aware of his surroundings, he avoided the blow.

  I didn’t pursue as Ruth pressed in. I conjured a bullet, slammed it into my gun and aimed, fired. The single shot hardly made a difference. I ejected the spent casing and loaded more, keeping up the covering fire. His eyes wandered further out, ignoring both of us even as I shot, and Ruth chased. His eyes fell on Diva, standing atop the wall.

  Almost lazily, he extricated himself from Ruth and shot for Diva. Only to be stopped when the earth came to life, barring his path forward. Terra came flying from inside the compound and smashed into the earth. The moment she connected to the ground; the earth shot out at the wicker chief.

  He made to move, but my shot slowed him a beat, just enough time for a volley of energy projectiles to crash into the surrounding ground, kicking up dirt. Undeterred, Ruth rushed in. Her bat screaming bloody murder.

  With a wave, it banished the cloud. Catching the wicker chief slightly off-guard. He swung to intercept, but his eyes widened and at the last instant, he let go of his blade. The bat hit, the bone blade vibrated and exploded into countless small pieces of shrapnel that imbedded themselves into both their bodies.

  Another bullet sang out. Rocks jutted out, more energy projectiles crashed like meteors, kicking up dust and dirt. The wicker chief shot out of the cloud. Bolting for the grove. Only to again be cut off as the land jutted up to cut him off. He about faced, just as the surroundings exploded.

  We arrayed ourselves. Each of us bloodied and wounded. Each of us panting. As the cloud cleared, the wicker chief regarded us for a moment. A thoughtful look on his face, before he smiled again, only… This time, his smile spit his face in half. He rolled his shoulders, and his body roiled.

  In a single step, he began to expand, grow. His muscular body expanded until it was almost rail thin, with stick-like arms and legs covered in rippling cord-like muscles. A skull face with long needle teeth, and thorn like claws. Horns jutted out from the side of his head, looking like a crown of thorns.

  “Ah…” I muttered stupidly. Its eyes glowed with bloody fire, and it moved.

  It was sizeable, and in spite of that, it moved with surprising grace and speed. Closing the distance in barely the blink of an eye. Spurred on by Diva’s song and the beating drums, we easily brushed aside the terror that washed over us and met him head on. Ruth charged forth but whiffed her bat and was slapped aside. Her arm bent at a bad angle as she was sent flying.

  Bayonet in hand, I shot forward. Spikes of earth jutted out and stone blocks flew, but each were casually beat aside with slaps or kicks. Energy projectiles screamed through the air with deadly precision, but they too barely did any damage. The demon’s hide was far too tough for such unconcentrated magic.

  I rushed forward, bayonet forward. I ducked, or more like stumbled under a swipe and thrust the bayonet into the demon’s side, the blade almost crying out in ecstasy as the wound burned and hissed, yet, overall, the damage was hardly of note. Annoyed, the demon attempted to kick me, but I stumbled aside, another swipe nearly clipped me as my feet moved, my legs shaking and shuddering in the process.

  I swung my bayonet like I was drunk. I couldn’t keep steady, my legs constantly shook, my arms felt hollow. Only the ice braced and kept me on my feet. The sheer amount of damage and my nearly depleted magic finally making itself known. Yet, I drunkenly swerved between blows.

  After a particularly wide swing the demon made as it grew annoyed at my continued persistence, An opening presented itself. I managed to, in this gap, to swing my rifle around and slam into their knee with everything I had. The rifle bit in, the bone crinkled, but ultimately held, but the blow was enough to bring the demon to a stop for a brief moment.

  Just brief enough for Terra to make her move. As I was under the demon, she had been focusing on something and that something jutted out of the earth and slammed right into the rear of the demon.

  Alarmed at the sudden rectal examination, the demon let out its first real howl of pain, it stumbled forward, planting one of its arms on the ground, the other swept me aside. I hit the ground with a roll and Ruth, bat in hand, with one arm braced with metal, swung a blow, right for the elbow of the demon.

  The bat hit and sheared right through the joint with ease. The demon stumbled and fell forward, with its other limb still raised. Just before it hit the ground, a bed of spikes erupted out, arresting the demon’s momentum and lifting it slightly off the ground, at just the right angle for Faust’s attack.

  Then, Faust fired. Having charged his own magic, a single drill of highly compressed energy shot forward. It screamed and whined. And despite my protesting body, I shot the last bit of my magic through it, forcing my way up. I ran, more like a shambling corpse than a living, breathing human, and cocked back my arm, aiming my rifle like it was a baseball bat, just opposite of me, Ruth came running up with her own bat in hand.

  The drill hit, digging into the demon’s forehead. Just before the demon could even begin to collect itself or throw itself aside, we crashed into the drill, both of our weapons slammed into the back of the drill at the same time. The drill punched in and ran through the demon, from head to rear. Leaving a gaping hole where it went. The body went slack, the drill continued into the earth where it exploded, kicking up dirt, mud, and ice. The blast pushed me and Ruth to the ground.

  A final wheezing gasp left my lips as I struggled to move, but no longer did my body listen. As the ice receded, agony took over. It took all I had not to whimper, as my body shook. Pain erupted out, but the ice still clinging to my wounds stung like red hot wires were sewed throughout my body.

  Everyone was gasping and breathing. Ruth slowly worked her way up, while I worked through the pain. Everybody was focused on the corpse. Marveling that we had done it, we had killed the gold rank. The following surge of starlight did little to assuage the agony I was in, or even begin to handle the exhaustion in our bones.

  Diva’s singing stopped. The battle fervor faded. My senses expanded. I gasped, as if someone had punched me in the stomach, the air leaving my lungs.

  “The tower!” I gasped, my voice raw. “Their breaking through the tower!” I cried out.

  At my words, everyone bolted for the fight. Leaving me alone, outside the compound…

  Not like I could move anyway… Where heat had passed, now there was only cold…