Chapter 58: Ten Percent Strength

When Nathan charged into Elderrow, he felt the street's mood had shifted a little, but he didn't dwell on it—he made straight for Wren's house.

In his panic he didn't even bother knocking, bursting in and shouting: "Mr. Shaw! Mrs. Shaw! Wren's been taken..."

Wren was helping her parents knead dough, both hands dusted with flour; at this her eyes went wide and she snapped indignantly: "Nathan! What are you yelling about? When did I ever get taken by anybody?"

Nathan got a start too. "Didn't I send you to deliver Goldspear Thistle to Lucan? How are you home?"

Wren snorted a laugh: "I already gave the Goldspear Thistle to Lucan! Obviously I came home—or what, I was supposed to go back to school and keep watching you play ball?"

Something still felt off to Nathan, but he couldn't argue—Wren's story was airtight, no holes to find anywhere. He hesitated before asking: "Then why didn't you answer my calls?"

Wren wiped her face, smearing flour onto the side of her nose—and somehow it looked unspeakably cute. At home this bloodborn girl was always dolled up pretty, nothing like her plain look at school.

The girl thought a moment and said: "My phone was charging!"

Nathan went completely speechless. He recounted everything—getting ambushed by Lysander, plus running into that especially flashy man. Wren's eyes rolled around for a bit before she said: "I ran into Lysander too. That hick actually tried to throw hands with me on Lombard Row, so I beat the absolute snot out of him—beat him till his own mom and dad wouldn't recognize him."

Prepared as Nathan was, it still floored him. "That guy was a total wreck—YOU did that? I've never even seen you train. How is your martial arts this good? Way, way beyond expectations."

Wren blinked and said, serious: "Lombard Row has the Boundless Barrier—it suppresses the strength of any bloodborn without the Concord sigil ring to ten percent.

Of course I could take that guy. But honestly, his real strength isn't shabby.

Even at ten percent, putting him down like you did was no small thing! How long have you even been awakened—and your strength's already grown to the point of surprising me?"

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Nathan was floored. "That's a thing?! Then doesn't that mean this Lysander guy's strength can explode tenfold? We each beat him up once today—if he recovers and waits for us outside Lombard Row, aren't we in deep trouble?"

Wren giggled: "Relax! I've got a war trophy today!"

She smoothed back her hair, and a crystal appeared in her hand; she told Nathan, gleeful: "I used your Orbis to take his war-beast! But his war-beast was just too ugly, so I found a counter I know and traded it in for a Wishbound Water-Mist! Look how well-behaved it is!"

Wren gave a soft chirp, and the sealing crystal cracked open; a jellyfish-like transparent thing floated up into the air, putting out ten-odd tendrils that lightly touched the bloodborn girl.

Wren explained to Nathan: "The Wishbound Water-Mist is a water-attribute war-beast—it lets me master a spell of the same name. That spell turns the water molecules in the air into mist-like blades that can slice steel and slip through any crack. If we run into Lysander again, I've got a war-beast and he doesn't—I can absolutely roll him over again."

Nathan's jaw hit the floor. He genuinely hadn't imagined that a delicate, timid-seeming girl like Wren could turn this ferocious—far beyond imagining. Wren beating Lysander was already hard to picture; the bloodborn girl had also gone and claimed battlefield spoils, then traded the spoils for equipment. She was basically a seasoned mercenary, a total inversion of her everyday image.

Nathan rubbed his face to make sure he wasn't dreaming, then said hurriedly: "Even if Lysander doesn't scare you, there's that Karsten guy—he seems even stronger than Lysander. What if they team up and come after us?"

Before Wren could answer, her mom said, grinning: "Those guys—if they actually dared lay a hand on our Wrennie, I wouldn't mind flipping them inside out either. It's been ages since I've fought anyone, but surely these little bloodborn who aren't even a hundred years old are no match for me."

The wild what-the-hells in Nathan's head had now learned to fly; he had nothing left to say. He asked Wren for his Orbis war-beast back and got ready to head home. Wren didn't hold him—just packed him a few fragrant fresh-baked rolls and walked him out to the edge of Elderrow before turning back.

When Wren got home, her mother was waiting at the door with a smile, saying: "No wonder Granny Rowan said he suits you. I think this boy's quite a catch too. You could try dating him and see—someday the two of you could even have little ones together."

Wren's face flamed red, and she snapped: "Mom! What nonsense are you spouting? Nathan and I are just ordinary classmates—nothing like what you're thinking."

Her mother sighed: "Bloodborn of different races barely ever produce offspring, what with the genetic differences. Your race has it especially hard—boys your age from your own race are nearly impossible to find. It's rare luck that Nathan is wood-race too, so of course Mom has to care a little."

Wren's face went redder and redder, until she just bolted into her room and refused to come out again.

Nathan left Elderrow, half wanting to go home and half wanting to pop into the Hourbound Grove for a while.

Lately he'd been making real headway training the Phantomveil Vine—this Blood Lord-tier war-beast, at full power, would be a terrifying force. He'd been working the Phantomveil Vine's training with one hand and grinding the Nine Shadowlashes with the other; his Nine Shadowlashes was on the verge of breaking the seventh and eighth layers and completing the Transform-Erode change—and that was an ascendant-path martial art he could use without any war-beast. For training war-beasts or practicing ascendant-path arts, the Hourbound Grove was simply the place; out here the efficiency was poor.

Time in the Hourbound Grove flowed at twenty times the outside's pace: twenty hours in there, one hour out here.

Never mind how much better the environment was than outside, or how much space it had—the time-flow advantage alone made everything Nathan did in there terrifyingly efficient.

"Nothing waiting for me at home anyway—might as well hang out in the Hourbound Grove a while. That guy today supposedly gets a tenfold power boost outside. If I run into him beyond Lombard Row, wouldn't I be in for it? More strength means one more way to save my life."

What Nathan didn't know was that at the subway station, Lysander had already been going at full strength. And Wren didn't think Nathan's strength could stand against a great bloodborn like that either—she too assumed what he'd beaten was a ten-percent Lysander.