Chapter 70: Sweeping Strike

By the time Finn reached the dungeon again, the area outside looked completely different from his first visit. There were adventurers everywhere.

Some stood in small groups near the entrance checking equipment, while others sat on the grass resting after coming back out. A few merchants had even set themselves up farther down the road, calling out to anyone who passed.

Finn slowed for a moment. There had been people here before, but nowhere near this many.

His eyes moved quickly across the crowd, and for just a second he found himself looking for familiar blonde hair.

June said he could repay her someday, and part of him had been hoping he might see her again. Instead, the only blonde woman nearby was someone completely different.

Finn looked away. He hadn’t come here to stand around anyway. His hand tightened around the grip of his grandfather’s sword before he stepped through the dungeon entrance.

The familiar green pasture slowly came into view as he walked through the main tunnel.

Bright grass stretched across rolling hills beneath the artificial sky, wooden fences crossed the landscape, and somewhere farther away he could hear the faint sound of running water.

The air smelled crisp and surprisingly clean for somewhere filled with sheep.

Finn took another few steps before spotting one. There it was, standing on the same hillside as always and quietly grazing as though it had been waiting for him.

Finn tightened his grip around the sword. "This time, I’ll get you in half the time."

The sheep continued eating.

Finn took that as a challenge. He started up the hill and almost immediately noticed something different.

The sword did not feel as heavy.

His shoulder was no longer pulling awkwardly to one side, and both hands settled around the grip without him needing to think about where they belonged. It seemed that all those mornings swinging it behind the house had actually done something.

He smiled and stepped closer.

The sheep finally raised its head.

Finn swung, but the sheep hopped backward and the blade cut through empty air.

He clicked his tongue, adjusted his stance and tried again. The second swing came faster, but the sheep still turned away at the last moment, leaving him to stumble a step as he fought his own momentum.

He caught himself and straightened.

"Still better than last time."

Deep inside the dungeon, Zion immediately stopped sulking.

A familiar head of bouncing golden curls had appeared on Floor 1.

"Oh!" He sat up. "Golden boy is back!"

All of the thoughts of Founding Grace, Floor 4, invisible assassins, and impossible adventurer abilities disappeared from his mind in an instant.

He leaned forward and watched. The first thing he noticed was what the young man was missing.

"No shovel today?"

Just the old sword.

Zion tilted his skull. "Maybe he isn’t some kind of farm class after all..."

Then he remembered the older man who had accompanied him the first time, their clothes, and the way both of them had looked. They didn’t seem like the typical type to enter dungeons.

He thought for a moment.

They’re probably not adventurers.

Maybe he was literally just a farmer’s son. That somehow made everything about him make more sense.

Zion settled back slightly. "All right, Golden Boy. Let’s see what you learned."

The difference was obvious almost immediately. His arms were no longer shaking. His stance was still rough, but at least it was a stance now, and more importantly, his attacks actually looked intentional.

The first time Zion watched him fight a sheep, every swing looked random and without much thought. Now he was watching the sheep, adjusting, and trying again.

Zion nodded slowly. "Not bad. Getting better."

The young man missed once, then twice.

On the third attempt, he approached the sheep again with both hands wrapped firmly around the sword.

Something about him had changed.

He was actually focused now.

Finn breathed in slowly, then let it out.

The sheep watched him.

For some reason, he thought about the field again. His father’s arm around his shoulders, Rowan laughing beside the water pitcher, and the fact that both of them were still working while he had been allowed to leave.

He tightened his grip. He wanted to come home with something. Not just because adventuring was exciting, but because he wanted their extra work to mean something.

Finn stepped forward.

The sheep moved, and he reacted before he could think. His sword came down in a clean swing, but for a split second the movement felt strange. It was lighter than before, almost like the blade was guiding him through it.

The edge struck cleanly. And the next moment, the sheep vanished into a puff of smoke leaving the ground empty.

He froze before glancing down at the sword in his hands.

Zion shot upright.

"Whoa! Where did you learn that?"

He leaned closer. That swing had been completely different from the others. No awkward recovery, no fighting the weight of the sword. It looked natural, something you would see from a very experienced swordsman.

"That wasn’t bad at all..." Zion narrowed his eye sockets. "Was that an ability?"

Finn stared at the sword in his hands. That swing felt different. His arms had moved, but for a moment it almost seemed like the motion had come from somewhere else.

Then a name appeared in his thoughts.

"Sweeping Strike."

Finn blinked. "Did I just learn a skill?"

His heart started beating faster. He heard about skills his whole life. Magic, techniques, abilities—things adventurers gained as they grew stronger.

He never had one before. A grin spread across his face.

"I learned a skill!"

Finn looked around as though someone else might have seen it, but nobody had. Still a bright smile was plastered on his face.

"I can’t wait to show Rowan!"

Excitement rushed through him so quickly that the exhaustion from the fields barely registered anymore. He started forward, already looking for another sheep.

He wanted to try it again and this time on purpose. He needed to make sure that the first time wasn’t a fluke.

Finn hurried over the hill and stopped. Several sheep nearby had raised their heads and were staring directly at him. Somehow they didn’t look as friendly as the sheep he had just defeated.

His smile weakened.

Zion looked at the instance status. A new line had appeared.

[Pack Mentality activated.]

He slowly leaned back against his throne as the sheep began moving toward the young man instead of away from him.

Zion shook his head.

"Oh you’re so screwed, Golden Boy."