Personal System Calendar: Year 00015, Day 1-28, Month VI: The Imperium
Imperial Calendar: Year 6859, 1st to 28th day of the 6th Month
---
Destroying a Portion of the Badjaw Coyotes
The fight continued, with August being surrounded on all sides by the remaining pirates. He dematerialized his bow and arrows, preparing for close-quarters combat. He drew his broad sword and shield instead of Dorgon's Fang, figuring the Emperor's own gift would be overkill for something like this. Then again, most of his weapons were overkill at this point, a fact only made worse by how much his own strength kept growing. He held the sword with a steady one-handed grip, shield braced at his side, the blade lined up with the center of his mask. He stood there at the center of the encirclement, unnervingly still. The pirates could feel the weight of it pressing down on them, as if they were facing a beast rather than a man. August gave them no opening to exploit either.
"This is my last warning. Drop your weapons, or die."
The words made a few of them waver, if only for a moment, before the captain of the lead ship screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Shut your mouth! You son of a bitch!"
The captain summoned his water element, shaping it into a magical skill called Water Serpent, a coiling likeness of the real thing found in these waters. As he swung his cutlass toward August, the serpent followed the arc of the blade, wound tightly around it. August answered by electrifying his own sword with an active buff skill called Lightning's Edge, Class V – Grandmaster, Mid-Tier ★★, and firing off his own active skill, Lightning Volt, Class V – Grandmaster, Low-Tier ★.
The strike didn't just electrocute the captain when their two swords clashed, it carried enough force behind the blade to cut clean through him. Because water and lightning were incompatible elements, one more conductive than the other, the captain was struck twice over: once when the two elements collided against each other, and again from the Lightning Volt August had already sent his way. The mismatch between the two skills amplified the damage rather than canceling it out, with the Lightning Volt serving as little more than extra insurance. The captain's body convulsed from the combined shock of the spell and the lightning-coated blade, if only for a moment, before his head separated cleanly from his shoulders.
August was, without question, the worst possible opponent a water elemental could face, pirates who specialized in it especially.
None of the other Expert-Ranked pirates had actually seen what happened between the two of them. All they caught was a flash of light, followed by the dull thud of their captain's body hitting the deck, already headless. It had all happened between one blink and the next, too fast to register as anything but instant.
Those who'd wavered before dropped their weapons entirely. A handful still loyal to their captain and their cause, rage-blinded, tried their luck against August anyway. They all fell the same way, cut down by what looked like a continuous string of slashes and stabs, so efficient they seemed to flow like water. What little the onlookers caught in those five seconds before their comrades' bodies fell was little more than a blur, which was, after all, exactly why he'd earned the name Blurred Devil in the first place. His emerald eyes glowed as he moved smoothly from one attacker to the next. Then eight more bodies hit the deck.
He didn't need flashy movement to do it. That alone said something about how well he'd absorbed Grandmaster Miles Daemon's teaching. Under his master's guidance, he'd come to fully understand what Daemon meant by efficient, effective movement, rather than relying on the kind of sprawling, multi-angle attacks that worked well against beasts of enormous size and heavier natural defenses. Against humans, or anything built along similar lines, humanoids, demi-humans, there was only so much variation in where the limbs and vital points actually sat. All August really needed was a working understanding of how a body moved, enough to read an attacker's angle and intent before they'd fully committed to it. That had been the very first thing Master Miles drilled into him: mastery of his own body first, understanding exactly where the joints, tendons, muscles, bones, and organs sat and how they worked together.
From there, they'd refined August's combat style, already a hybrid of many things, shaped mostly by instinct honed from hunting beasts far larger and more dangerous than himself. His strikes, left untouched, were wild and unrefined, unrefined only in the sense that a Grandmaster had judged them by that standard, not because they were somehow inferior. They were deadly all the same.
Master Miles had praised him for reaching this level without any formal instruction at all, and had come to understand, through their training together, that August had picked up his read on human combat almost entirely from countless sparring sessions with friends, imperial soldiers, and the occasional challenger. So rather than build something new from scratch, they worked with what was already there, reinforcing it, sharpening it, making it more efficient. Where most fighters specialized in one narrow area of combat, August's style had grown from many directions at once, since he was, at his core, an all-rounder, a versatile warrior who could be dropped into any role a fight demanded. That gave him room to explore a wide range of combat approaches without ever being boxed into just one. True mastery, according to Miles, meant understanding why one choice worked over another, not simply performing it correctly. Their training sessions often drifted into philosophy because of that, conversations about intention, restraint, timing, the kind of thinking that separated a master from a grandmaster. Miles considered him lacking in none of it.
Miles had also told him that while countless fighting styles existed, there was only so much you could do with two hands and two feet, at least for those built with just one set of each. Certain principles held true even for those with more limbs than that. The body's underlying biomechanics, whatever the variations, all traced back to the same fundamental structure in the end, and by extension, so did the techniques and styles built on top of them. Different paths might start from entirely different places, but at a high enough level, understanding tended to converge toward the same conclusions.
Those with deeper knowledge and wisdom about why something worked would typically win out, even against someone stronger on paper, since that gap could often be closed through understanding alone. That didn't erase the fact that raw variation still mattered, and could still be the deciding factor in a fight. Nor did it change the fact that some opponents were simply too strong for knowledge and technique alone to overcome. Miles had used Emperor Janus as his example there: a man with more knowledge, more understanding, and more raw power than August himself. That combination alone, Miles said, was why the Emperor would win any confrontation between them.
Back among the pirates, most of the survivors dropped their weapons and surrendered outright. It seemed the very principles Master Miles, and Master Ben in his own magical context, had spent so long drilling into him had done exactly what they were meant to do. In this fight, August had effectively occupied the same position the Emperor held in that earlier comparison, and the pirates were left playing the part of August facing him.
He sheathed his sword at his hip. The scabbard and its attachment point had materialized onto his body the moment the blade itself did. He chose not to send it back into subspace just yet, keeping it close in case any more of the crew decided their lives were worth throwing away.
With that, his part of the fight was effectively over. As for the other ships, it looked like things were heading the same direction there too. He couldn't see their individual battles directly, but from what he could sense at a distance, the pattern held.
On the first sloop, Cassa Venn had finished clearing her side of the deck by the time August's fight ended, the last of her opponents left twitching from the lightning still crackling faintly across the wet planks. Rael Sundfang had taken a shallow cut along his forearm, more from carelessness than any real skill on the pirates' part, and was already pressing a strip of cloth against it while keeping half an eye on the water for stragglers trying to swim clear. On the second sloop, Piri's earthen spikes had done most of the work before Oryn even needed to draw his blade, though he'd finished off two of the wounded who refused to stay down, wind cutting cleanly rather than cruelly. Chief Red, still aboard the Skipper, lowered his bow only once the last of the swimmers had either surrendered or gone still in the water, counting arrows left in his quiver out of old habit more than necessity.
They'd all fought well, especially the newer members, who'd clearly taken on the brunt of the fighting, while the more experienced Talon Two veterans stepped in only when a rookie looked genuinely at risk.
Once the fighting had fully wound down, they bound the surviving pirates with specialized restraint rope, the kind that suppressed a captive's strength by 95%, leaving just enough for basic movement, walking, standing, nothing more. They also brought aboard those whose ships had been sunk out from under them.
The earlier explosions from August's use of the ballistae had drawn attention, as it turned out, from an imperial navy vessel already patrolling the area. It arrived roughly an hour later. They explained what had happened and handed the surviving pirates over. Whatever came next for them was no longer August's or the GMV Skipper's concern.
Before departing, though, they were given a proper document, one they could present at any imperial port to claim the bounty owed for the pirates' capture. August tried to hand it off to the GMV's crew, but they refused outright, insisting the work had been entirely August's and his people's doing. So the document stayed with him.
August thanked them, and they went on their way. Within five to six more days, they'd finally reach their destination.
---
Zone 3 and a Familiar Face
Meanwhile, back in the village, things had quieted considerably, though word of the Beastmen's arrival had already begun spreading throughout the community. It was now the 14th day of the month, which meant August and the delegation were likely nearing, if not already arriving at, the shores of Ogind's waters within Count Xavior's territory.
The homes built within Zone 3 had grown from eight to fifty in just the past few days, each capable of housing fifty Beastmen. Even that wasn't quite enough. Of the original houses, six already had residents, though not at full capacity, and two more had been kept in reserve; they were quickly filled once the new arrivals came in. Zone 3's population had expanded considerably as a result. They'd even torn down sections of the old wooden palisade to make more room, giving the newer homes the same amount of space as those with attached farmland.
In the end, roughly 2,100 of the newly arrived Beastmen chose to remain culturally separate, while another 1,400 opted to integrate and live among the human population. Factoring in the Beastfolk already established in Zone 3, the newcomers quickly filled the homes they'd either helped build themselves or that were already under construction on their behalf, which was how the village had managed to put up this many homes in such a short span, roughly two weeks in total. Whatever finishing touches remained would be left to the new residents to decide for themselves.
Elsewhere in the village, a familiar face had arrived, one they hadn't seen in a while. It was none other than Buford Millhaven, heir to the Millhaven household, who'd trained in Maya Village himself in his younger years. His father had sent him for a visit, since he hadn't been able to make it in time to greet August's newly born daughter in person and had promised to send Buford in his place instead. Even Buford, it turned out, had missed Adessa's first birthday.
He'd arrived with an escort of thirty soldiers, a small retinue, along with ten servants, and his wife, Jennifer Gremory-Millhaven, daughter of the Marquis of Gremory. Forty-two people in total. Since he hadn't sent word ahead, he'd unknowingly missed August entirely, which was a shame, since the whole visit had been meant as a surprise.
He'd already heard plenty from merchants passing through the old trade routes about how much the village had changed since his last visit, though hearing about it and actually seeing it turned out to be two very different things. In his memory, the place still looked much as it had when he'd lived here. But what greeted him now made those old memories feel almost quaint by comparison, especially the forest entrance, once ominous and half-hidden, now fronted by a massive encampment sitting right at the buffer zone between the Kingdom of Ogind and the great forest itself. Seeing the scale of it from a distance alone was enough to catch him off guard.
There was a proper road now too, something that simply hadn't existed before. He remembered having to push through thick brush and tall grass just to reach the forest's edge. Now there was a smooth, well-traveled path, quite busy with far more traffic than he'd expected, something he genuinely hadn't imagined possible for a village that had once valued its self-imposed isolation, detached from the wider world, so highly. Though he'd also heard, in passing before, that they were planning to eventually open the place up to outsiders.
"This is significantly better than when I was here before. Come, let's head in."
With him were a few familiar faces of his own, people who'd spent time here alongside him in the past, and who seemed to share almost the exact same reaction to the changes.
- Barak Minis — Knight Captain, Light Swordsman
- Remi Nee — Knight Lieutenant, Combat Healer Knight
- Bart Ti'in — Knight Lieutenant, Heavy Swordsman
- Barry "Alejandro" Ali — Buford's former personal servant, now head butler of his household, better known simply as Alejandro
"Indeed, my lord. Even just comparing the entrance to before speaks volumes."
They began making their way toward the entrance. What looked, at a glance, like an unassuming, near-empty checkpoint was, in fact, well staffed, a small testament to how skilled Maya Village's people had become at blending into their surroundings. It was something Buford himself had once learned here, though he'd had little chance to practice it back home, aside from the sword drills he still kept up whenever time allowed. Still, spotting the guards posted here brought back a wave of old memories, something in him lighting back up almost immediately. His mood shifted, noticeably lighter, as if the long, tiring journey had simply washed away. Even Jennifer noticed the sudden change in her husband, visibly surprised by it.
At the entrance, the usual procedure played out. Most of the guards stationed there were new, mixed in with a handful of veterans, and none of them recognized him at first, not until the captain of the guard stepped out of his tent for his usual rounds and spotted Buford alongside his knights and servant.
"Buford! Barak! Bart! Remi! Alejandro! What are you all doing here?"
Captain Alphonse called out to them, and the sound of it caught their attention instantly, a familiar voice none of them had heard in a long while.
Buford turned toward the source and found a man grinning from ear to ear.
"Alphonse! My friend! Good to see a familiar face around here!"
Buford greeted him warmly. The two had been training partners once, standing guard duty together during the three years Buford and the others had lived in the village. All five of them had held honorary military roles as temporary villagers, the only status that allowed outsiders entry into the village's military service. Technically, having lived there three years, they'd have qualified as full villagers under current standards, though that had never quite applied to them, given their standing as citizens of Ogind. Dual citizenship might have been possible, in theory, though Maya Village wasn't yet a formally recognized kingdom in any case. Regardless, they were quickly waved through. Alphonse greeted Jennifer as well before personally escorting the group into the village himself.
The journey in felt faster than Buford remembered, unsurprising, given the new road.
That was when the scale of it really hit him. The village had changed so much in just a few years that it barely resembled the place in his memory. The sheer speed of its growth left him a little stunned. By scale alone, he thought, this already looked more like a town than a village, even if the population hadn't quite caught up to match.
"Alphonse, there are so many different things here now. It's like an entirely new place, and yet somehow some things are still exactly the same."
"Oh, that. Yeah, the village has been growing like mad. I'd bet it will become an actual town within a few years, ha ha ha!"
Alphonse answered with obvious delight, then led Buford and his company onward toward the Elder Council in Zone One.
Unfortunately, when Buford asked whether August was around, Alphonse told him the Commander and the entire Talon force were currently away, escorting the village chief south. They'd missed him by about two weeks, which was a disappointment, since seeing August again had been a good part of the reason for the trip, though certainly not the only one.
Still, they'd be staying a while. With any luck, he'd get the chance to see August once the delegation finally made its way back.
That evening, rather than push straight on to the guest quarters being prepared for them in Zone One, Alphonse suggested they make camp just outside the main residential district instead, close enough to the walls to still hear the village humming along, far enough to actually talk without an audience. He said it half as a joke, claiming his old bones missed sleeping under open sky after too many years stuck behind a desk doing paperwork for the Patrol Division. Buford didn't need much convincing. Some part of him missed it too.
They built a small fire more out of habit than necessity, since the night wasn't especially cold, and Barak and Bart took turns telling Jennifer stories from their years training here, most of them exaggerated just enough to make Alphonse groan and correct the details from across the fire. Remi mostly listened, adding a quiet correction here and there whenever someone got a healer's role in the story wrong, which happened more often than not.
Jennifer, for her part, seemed to enjoy watching her husband like this more than the stories themselves. She'd known Buford as the composed heir of a noble household, always measured, always aware of who was watching him. She'd heard he'd once lived rougher than that, but seeing him laugh at Alphonse's terrible impression of a younger, more hot-headed Bart was something else entirely. She leaned over at one point, quiet enough that only he could hear her.
"You never told me you used to snore loud enough to wake the whole barracks."
"That was one time, and Alphonse has never once let me live it down."
"I intend to bring it up at every possible opportunity for the rest of your life," Alphonse said without missing a beat, not even looking up from the fire.
Jennifer laughed properly at that, the sound catching Buford off guard in the best way. It had been a long journey to get here, and for the first time since they'd set out, he felt like he could actually breathe. Alphonse eventually turned the conversation toward the village itself, giving them a rough sense of everything that had changed since Buford's time, the new departments, the expanded zones, the sheer number of people who now called Maya home. It was a lot to take in, but for one night at least, none of them were in any hurry to head inside.