Chapter 303

Day two of the preparation phase rolled in with a headache.

The Valiant Village was a chaotic symphony of shouting Orcs and crashing timber. Winfred was in his element, barking orders as the massive warriors dismantled their huts and rolled iron-bound barrels of dried meat toward the center of the camp.

Rudra rubbed his temples. Deciding he desperately needed ten minutes of quiet, he slipped away from the packing zone and wandered into a wide dirt clearing just past the tree line.

He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know Iris was following him. She moved like a shadow, completely silent in the heavy swamp mud, her newly forged guns resting comfortably on her thighs.

Rudra stopped in the center of the clearing and leaned his staff against a mossy tree trunk. He let out a long breath.

"We need to practice," Rudra said.

Iris stopped a few paces away. She crossed her arms, "My role is to assist you, Guildmaster. Whatever physical performance you plan on doing is entirely your problem." 

Rudra winced. "I know. But Mellory wants a display of form. I can't just stand there and flex for three minutes. There has to be some kind of talent or grace to it."

Iris stared at him. "Then perform a staff dance. You seem to be skilled in handling a staff."  

"Look, a martial arts routine is too much effort and besides I don’t know any staff dances," Rudra sighed, stretching his arms over his head to loosen his shoulders. "I figure singing is the easiest way out of this. I just need to stand up straight, throw my chest out, and project my voice." 

Iris didn't argue. She simply raised a single, skeptical eyebrow, stepping back to give him the floor.

Rudra cleared his throat. He squared his shoulders, closed his eyes to find the right pitch, and drew in a massive, lung-expanding breath.

He opened his mouth and sang a high note.

The sound was a disaster.

It was a discordant, screeching noise. It defied logic. It sounded like two rusted iron plates grinding together inside a tin can. The pitch was wildly uneven.

Thud.

A swamp bird sitting in the branches above them immediately died. It fell straight down and hit the mud.

[You have killed a Swamp Bird (Lv. 35)!]

[You have gained 21,000 exp !]

Iris didn't think. Her deep-seated survival instincts took over completely.

She drew her new right pistol and pulled the trigger in the blink of an eye.

Bang.

A blue mana bullet ripped through the air. It was aimed directly at the center of Rudra's mouth.

Rudra’s [Super Sensitivity] immediately sent him multiple warnings. 

[The [Super Sensitivity] has detected a Mana Bullet aimed at your Mouth.]

He tilted his head three inches to the left.

The bullet grazed past his ear. It hit a tree trunk behind him. The wood shattered into splinters.

Rudra stopped singing. He closed his mouth. He looked at Iris dumbfounded.

"Did you just shoot at me?" Rudra asked.

Iris slowly lowered the gun. She looked at the dead bird that was turning into pixels.

"You are banned from singing," Iris said flatly. She slid the weapon back into her holster. "Forever."

"It wasn't that bad," Rudra said.

Iris ignored him. She stepped into the center of the clearing. She unclipped a collapsed metal cylinder from the back of her belt. She flicked her wrist.

Snick.

The cylinder snapped out to its full length, locking into place. It became a solid metal staff.

"You said you do not know a staff dance," Iris said, stepping into the center of the clearing. "I will teach you one. Pay attention."

"Wait, right now?" Rudra sighed, leaning back against the tree. "I told you, it's too much effort—"

Iris simply stared at him. She rested a hand on the grip of her holstered pistol, making it abundantly clear that singing was no longer an option on the table.

Rudra closed his mouth. "Alright. Show me."

She adjusted her grip.

Iris began to move. It was not a standard attack routine. It was a beautiful and traditional martial-arts staff dance.

She spun the metal pole over her shoulders. She rolled it behind her back. She caught it under her arms. Her footwork was incredibly light, gliding across the heavy swamp mud without making a single sound. She moved with fluid, deadly grace, completely optimizing every twist of her torso.

Rudra watched her.

For the first time since he met her, a faint red flush crept up his neck. He quickly coughed into his fist and brushed it off. He had no idea why his face suddenly felt warm.

Iris finished the routine. She executed a sharp, downward strike, her coat flaring out behind her. The tip of her staff stopped exactly one inch from the mud.

She stood up straight and looked at him.

"Your physical stats are more than high enough," Iris said flatly. "Memorize it. Do that."

Rudra grabbed his own staff from the tree. He stepped forward.

He closed his eyes, replaying her movements in his head. He opened his eyes and began to move. 

He replicated the spins and the rolls, but his first attempt was slightly flawed. Used to relying on raw, explosive power to crush enemies, his strikes were too rigid. He lacked the fluid, aesthetic grace she had demonstrated, and his heavy heel sank an inch too deep into the mud on the second pivot. 

He closed his eyes, replaying her movements in his head. Thanks to his overwhelming stats and extensive combat experience, he possessed the ability to memorize complex physical actions almost instantly.

He stopped the routine halfway through and frowned. "No. The weight distribution was off on the backswing. I was too stiff."

Rudra closed his eyes again. He didn't just need power; he needed perfect control. Relying on his own Intellect, his innate talent, and the vast combat experience he had accumulated he mentally broke down her movements to suit him.