After our sparring session, I leaned back against the mountainside, not noticing the ships until the unmistakable sound of sails snapping in the wind reached my ears. The sight took me aback—the Duke had sent over thirty ships, their sails billowing proudly in the breeze as they approached the harbor.
The Duke’s fleet split, some heading to the harbor and others anchoring in the river’s center, with only a few ships docking. Our friend, the harbormaster, greeted the delegation while dockworkers scrambled to load supplies onto the ships. What really caught my attention, though, was the way they used whips to prod along with their strange creatures—a bizarre blend of pig and horse. Fellow whip users!
Amid the bustling activity, Don stepped up to a soldier guarding the delegation and loudly announced our business. His shout caught the attention of an older captain, who approached us with a warm smile that put me a little at ease. “I heard about you two! You’re the knight, right? And you must be the young healer Teorn mentioned. Go on in; we’ve got a room ready for you.”
Startled, Don dropped his sword with a clatter, then quickly saluted. “Yes, sir!” Only the lessons from the palace kept my expression from face palming and die from embarrassment by association.
With a flick of his wrist, the captain gestured to a nearby soldier. “You! Escort them to the cabin near the kitchen.”
The soldier responded with an elven salute and motioned for us to follow. As I took in the size of the massive ship, I felt the wooden boards creak underfoot as we made our way into the hold. Our room was small, with two bunk beds. Don scowled at the sparse furnishings, but I didn’t care.
Players never had to sleep in the game, I reminded myself, so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about him invading my bed at night. But ending up with these perverts as a girl? Rotten luck. I’d have preferred a magistrate from the capital—a true gentleman.
Ignoring Don’s grumbling, I started enchanting my gear. The Tiara’s success had been a nice boost, though its fire resistance wasn’t all that useful for me. My skill in ‘runecrafting’ had improved with practice, but my enchantments averaged a modest seventy percent.
Maybe I had a touch of talent. Hopefully. After all that work, I’d managed to gain two intelligence on everything… except for the robe.
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Enchanting: +6 INT</td>
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Enchanting: +2 INT</td>
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Our cozy little room was filled with the persistent smell of old wood, which didn’t sit well with my nose. The clatter of Don’s armor hitting the floor broke the silence, and I could see the boredom in his eyes—perfect for my plan.
“Let’s do some real training, Don,” I said, giving him a quick pinch in the side. He groaned and dropped onto the edge of the bed, examining his armor. That’s for my butt, amateur.
“You won’t need armor for this. In fact, it’s better without it.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him up to the deck. He started to protest but quickly quieted, trailing after me with his eyes firmly fixed on my backside. Typical. We reached the upper deck, where the captain’s voice echoed as he barked curses at the sailors. Dodging the flurry of activity, I led Don to a secluded corner by a bench, away from all the bustle.
“So, Don, you’re a knight,” I began. “Your shield is your best friend—it keeps you alive. Its purpose isn’t just to block strikes; it can also distract your opponent, block his view, and redirect his blade.”
His expression was blank, though his eyes were less interested in my words than in my posture whenever I leaned forward to demonstrate. His grinning face betrayed exactly where his focus was. This brat!
I slapped him lightly and continued, “Your sword is your offensive weapon. Its purpose is to cut down your enemy quickly and effectively. Never use it for defense. That’s what the shield is for. Got it?”
Don gave a lazy nod. I fought the urge to slap him again, to knock that smug look off his face. What a disgrace! I remembered training imperial soldiers on my quests, where my words held respect and authority. Now I was stuck with this shameless brat.
“On your feet! Into your stance!” I ordered. He rose slowly, shield in one hand, sword in the other, but his arms hung lifelessly, like a mage out of his element rather than a knight ready for battle.
“This is what you call a stance?” I barked. “Present the shield in front! Bend your knees!” He lifted his shield, barely.
I kicked his calf, forcing him to bend with a yelp, his eyes pleading for mercy. “Princess, I don’t need all this training. My Queen will teach me everything.” He started rambling about some queen, as if hoping she’d magically turn him into a proper knight.
Dream on. Not a queen, but a princess will beat you into a proper knight!
His sword clattered to the deck as he stumbled from my second slap. “Get up! Back in your stance! When defending, you face your opponent with your left foot forward, keeping your shield close to them. That way, you can block easier and dodge incoming strikes. Right foot back, shoulder-width apart, and keep your back straight.”Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Getting him into a proper stance took more than a few kicks and some corrective smacks. The ships had finally sailed, and the wind whistled all around us as we drilled. I checked his form, still painfully amateurish, and with a sigh, I grabbed his equipment to show him the stance myself.
In theory, anyway. Lifting Don’s shield proved near impossible with my lack of strength, and I nearly toppled over just trying. Don burst into laughter, gasping for air as he doubled over and eventually rolled on the ground, cackling.
Fine. I shoved his useless equipment back at him and slipped on my own new shield—a sleek silver bracelet that hugged my forearm perfectly. As I channeled mana into it, I felt a drain on my reserves, and I sighed. It stung, but at least I could wield a shield.
When my mana reached the bracelet, a translucent, purple-luminescent barrier burst into life, forming a solid, rounded shield over three feet wide.
“Alright, watch my stance,” I said, demonstrating. “See how my back is straight? Pay attention to my legs. I’ll perform an attack.” I shifted my rear leg forward, rotated my hips, then pivoted on my front foot and struck downward with an imaginary sword.
The most basic attack in the book.
“Now, your turn.” Don swung his sword in a wild arc, crashing it into the ground before stumbling forward. His attempt was clumsy, but he looked determined, trying his best to mimic my stance—poorly. But hey, he was trying.
“Alright, Don, now I’ll hold my shield up. Try to get through my defense.” I settled into a defensive stance, presenting my shield to him, but he just snickered like a kid. Well, he was one.
“Can I, uh, penetrate your butt if I manage it?”
Training with the most shameless pervert. “You stupid brat! Ugh! Fine, if you actually manage it, I’ll let you touch me once.”
He didn’t wait another second. He lunged at me with a slash, but I blocked it with ease—the magic shield absorbed the blow effortlessly, like an alchemical exploit. It even surprised me how easy it was; his attack’s energy vanished the moment it hit. Sweet!
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As my hit points dropped dangerously low, I had to stop the fight and heal myself. Hurray—at least that stupid spell worked on the first try. While Don continued sparring with imaginary enemies, I took out my whip, determined to practice.
I swung the whip, trying to replicate the moves I remembered from videos of a legendary mage-killer in my past life. That guy was a pro, and the whip’s double-damage property was lethal against mages and priests. The sight of him tearing through the backline, leaving chaos in his wake, was intoxicating. Maybe someday I’ll have crowds cheering for me like he did… Wait. I glanced down at myself, remembering—I was a girl now. Looking back up, I caught Don ogling from behind. Never mind.
A confident stride approached, and I turned to find the captain grinning at me. “Hero, ever actually handled a whip before? You wield a sword and shield like a seasoned soldier, but one little whip seems to have you stumped.”
I frowned and glanced at Don’s sloppy stance. “I’ve used swords a long time, yes, so I’d say I’m an expert with those. But a whip? Not really.” The captain nodded, reaching down to pull out his own whip from his belt. What the…?
“Alright, young priestess, let me show you how it’s done.” After a few nervous glances, the lesson began.
I moved my arm in a wide arc and slashed downward; the whip responded but clumsily, more of a wiggle than a controlled strike. The Captain stepped in, grabbing my hand to guide me. His grip was rough, not gentle in the slightest, to Don’s amusement—but at least it was purely professional, unlike certain other “masters.” While I tried to teach Don, the Captain was teaching me to face an imaginary enemy with a whip.
“The Floaters!” a shout interrupted our training session, cutting through the air like a whip.
“Care to lend a hand, young hero? Floaters are annoying little bastards,” the Captain called out as he strode toward the ship’s center. A strange burbling sound echoed across the deck, followed by the wet slap of something hauling itself aboard.
The creature emerged—a stupid, dark green-blue mass glistening with seawater. Its skin shimmered like oil slicks on whisky, slimy and uneven. It had a pointed, almost bird-ish face with bulging, fishlike eyes that darted about erratically. Its jagged teeth jutted out at odd angles, giving its wide, lipless mouth and permanently twisted snarl. Fleshy, fin-like limbs flopped against the wooden boards, leaving a sticky trail behind it. Gross.
The Captain didn’t flinch. With two precise cracks of his whip, the creature let out a gurgling screech before splitting clean in half, its innards spilling onto the deck in a slimy, steaming mess.
What the…?
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Type: 1-common | HP: 40/40</td>
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I rushed to the Captain’s side, my heart pounding. “What the heck was that thing?”
“A Floater. Every time we set sail, they swarm us—angry little pests. They attack in waves the whole trip.” With a swift kick, he sent the creature’s remains splashing back into the river.
Constant waves of low-HP monsters? Is this heaven? As the next Floater crawled onto the deck, I stepped up to practice my whip technique. I swung with all my strength, but the whip’s tip sailed wide, striking the ship’s deck instead. Alright, this is nonsense. Focus, John. I tried again, but missed once more, achieving nothing except a lesson in frustration.
“Too slow! Predict their path, then aim!” The Captain’s laughter rang out as he settled onto the bench beside us, watching my attempts.
Determined, I tried again, adjusting my timing. This time, as the whip cracked against the Floater, a sharp, supersonic bang echoed across the deck, and the creature’s insides practically imploded from the strike.
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No. Frickin. Way. A grin spread across my face as I turned to Don. “Don! On guard, we are in heaven!”