February ~ 32!

The wind howled, battering his ears and tugging at his sword and armor. Grant looked up into the air as a tornado made contact with the ground, greedily sucking up sand from the arena floor. The turbulent winds grew in magnitude until Grant’s feet left the safety of the solid ground. “I made it through to the next round! Didn’t I? Let me continue!”

His voice was but a whisper as the screaming wind assaulted his ears. Looking down, he felt a wave of vertigo overtake him as the arena and spectators sank away. From this high up, he couldn’t even make out individuals in the crowd. They were insignificant specks. Peering through the swirling mass of debris captured by the tornado, he could see other bodies joining him on this journey. He didn’t know where they were going, but at least he wasn’t alone. He fought to sheathe February Twenty Nine to prevent it from being wrenched from his grasp. He didn’t want to be remembered as the competitor who committed seppuku in mid-air.

Sword secured, Grant peered down at the landscape of February as it zipped past. From this vantage point, the land resembled that of the map at the estate of House Wednesday. He could see the dark spread of the Whispering Woods, farmland, and the sprawling metropolis of Valentine. Even the city faded away from sight as he sped upward and eastward.

“I feel sick.” Spinning within the vortex, the contents of his stomach threatened to join him.

<It looks like we’re really going places! By the way, you’re looking a little rough. Use your new ability while we’re in transit; this was an awesome steal.>

Grant didn’t answer Sarge but took the opportunity to check his stats. He wanted to see what shape he was in and get further details on his newly acquired ability.

Name: Grant Monday

Rank: Lord of The Month (January)

Class: Foundation Cultivator

Cultivation Achievement Level: 14

Cultivation Stage: Late Spring

Inherent Abilities: Swirling Seasons Cultivation

Health: 197/228

Mana: 10.8/12

Characteristics

Physical: 119

Mental: 46

Armor Proficiency: 63

Weapon Proficiency: 88

Wielded Weapon: "February 29"

Weapon Inherent abilities:

1) Weapon Absorption: This sword has the ability to absorb another Wielded Weapon’s power, taking its ability into itself. Restriction: Only one weapon per Monthly series.

2) Weapon/Armor Synergy: When the Wielder is equipped with armor, this sword increases in potency and gains power. Increase is capped at the Weilder’s cultivation stage, or average armor stage, whichever is lower. February 29 is currently considered an Mid Spring Light’ sword. Current maximum damage is: 29 (23 from weapon cultivation, 6 from base weapon weapon stage damage, rounded up.) Damage type is ‘piercing’, ‘slashing’, or ‘blunt’ depending on how February 29 is used.

3) Time is Space: you now have access to any of the powers of February Twenty Nine, no matter where the Weapon is. You may also call your Weapon to you so long as you touch upon a place in the world where it once was while in your possession. Cost: 25% of mana pool.

4) Locked

Weapon Absorbed abilities:

1) Sword Grandmastery: Imbue your weapon with a Sword Spirit that creates a model that allows for enhanced physical, mental, and weapon cultivation. Restriction: the training plan must be followed, else the ability locks for 24 hours. There is only one warning given per day.

2) Live by the Sword: Pause and meditate on the failures of your combat ability, healing up to 30% of all damage taken within the last 10 minutes, over one full minute. This ability will increase with physical cultivation.

“I’m beaten up and bleeding, but not as bad as I feared. I’ve taken thirty-two damage… let’s see if this new weapon ability will make a real difference.” He closed his eyes and activated Live by the Sword, and for a moment, he was aware of both the outside world, and each point in the previous battle where he had taken damage. In his mind’s eye, he saw how he could have done better, and practiced avoiding the blows.

Grant started shivering involuntarily, and came back to himself to discover that he had regained eleven health. It was incredible to suddenly have lessened pain, like a mini-level-up. Yet, he could no longer feel his hands or feet. More worryingly, his vision had become cloudy. He wiped at his eyes and squinted at the ice crystals that had formed. Windswept tears instantly solidified into a shower of perfectly formed snowflakes.

The tornado that had been his companion suddenly abated. He found himself falling towards a sea of whiteness. He couldn’t fathom what was happening, only that he was falling. Then there was a blanket of silence as he slammed into something.

<Up we go! There’s people to slap around!> Sarge’s voice startled Grant back to reality. For a moment, he thought he was dead, ensnared in a world of whiteness, but the aches and pains and the biting of searing cold against exposed flesh reminded him that he was very much alive. After several attempts at standing in the pillowy snow, he managed to get to his feet.

“S… s… snow in February?” His teeth chattered and he searched for any explanation. “I don’t understand.”

“Lords and ladies to be, thank you for joining me here.” Grant followed the voice that he could barely hear over the clatter of his teeth. Lady February stood on a mountain peak ahead of him, her shocking pink hair in stark contrast to the snow blanketing wherever they were. Her cheeks were rosy as she snuggled within her cloak of arctic fox fur. “I’m proud of each one of you. The trials are far from over; the next…”

“Where is here?” Grant found the courage to speak up. Lady February glared at him, while the other competitors dotted around the snowy peak gasped at his audacity at speaking out. “I was just wondering.”

When it was clear that Grant had got the message, she continued. “We are at the highest point in February, the peak of Mount Segatakai. As I was saying, the next stage of the trial will begin shortly. This test is a race. To qualify for the third and final stage, you can either make it to the end of the race, or defeat everyone else in combat. A maximum of five competitors can pass and continue onto the final round. Follow the pink light to the end. Ready, set, go!”

A huge pillar of light shot up into the sky from… somewhere. Competitors grunted as they waded through the waist-high snow towards a clearing next to the peak. Lady February clapped in appreciation as a Vassal of House Monday unsheathed her sword and cut down the man next to her without hesitation. The ring of steel was joined by other competitors as they engaged in combat and eagerly attempted to impress Lady February.

<Tell me your plan.>

Grant thought about joining them in combat, but he was numb and freezing. He knew they wouldn’t be much better, but he at least had a gi, while the rest of them were almost all in form-fitting athletic gear. “I just have to finish the race in the top five, or survive till then. I’ll only fight when I have to against mostly-frozen Vassals.”

He turned and took in the epic sight before him. Candyfloss clouds blanketed the world. Shivering and sucking in a lungful of frigid air, he started running toward the pink beacon off in the distance. He had gotten an almost five-minute head start when he heard a voice on the wind. “Hey, he’s trying to skip the fighting!”

There was a pause in the brawl as the pack realized that Grant was trying to slip by and get an easy win, and their fights broke off as they started following after him. Grimacing, he picked up the pace. He didn’t have to turn around to realize they were on his tail. Fourteen ambitious competitors were hot on his heels. All he had to do was stay ahead of them… but he had a feeling that might be more difficult than it sounded in his head.

A person appeared next to him, screaming as they cut down with meteoric power. Grant flinched out of the way and followed up with a form-perfect Iaijutsu, his sword taking the woman in the chest. She choked as she stared at the sword, then up at him, before being whisked away in a tiny tornado.

<Nice one! Brace yourself!>

Golden power flooding his body took the young man by surprise, and he missed his step as he reached level fifteen. The slope abruptly fell away, and Grant found himself falling head over heels. There was nothing to stop his fall or to grab onto, at least not until he landed in a thick blanket of snow and came to a halt. He shook the snow off as he exploded out of the snowbank, clearing his ice-encrusted eyes.

A huge storm was brewing, making it difficult to tell which direction to go unless he got a clear view of the light. He forced himself free of the snow and to his feet, resuming his running pace as he spotted a group of rapidly growing dark spots on the pristine white snow closing on his position.

The first among them caught up and launched themself at him. Grant was done playing nice; while the person was in the air, he put his sword through them and used his blade to empower their jump and slam them on the icy ground beside him. The others slowed down with fear in their eyes as Grant stabbed down again, but a gust of wind vanished his target and sent their large, round shield skidding atop the icy snow. Grant watched it move and already knew what he needed to do.

He charged the shield and jumped onto it, pulling the front edge up and holding on for dear life as it shot down the slope. Grant knew it was childish, but he turned around and blew a raspberry at the others. There was no way they would catch him now! It was impossible to tell how fast he was traveling, apart from ‘breakneck speed’. His grin twisted when his glance back revealed that he wasn’t the only person who’d had this idea. Three other people on makeshift sleds were keeping pace, but not keeping up—a silver blur sped past the other competitors. Grant’s sled bounced along, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the unusual sight. A Vassal was balanced atop a gleaming silver tower shield.

Grant found himself hurtling through the air. He had passed the edge of the snow line, and with it, his sled had met resistance in the form of a rocky scree. The sled may have stopped if he had been going any slower, but due to his momentum, he had been flung skyward.

<Tuck and roll!> He didn’t have to be told twice. He tucked in his head protectively and curled into a ball. Only by sheer luck did he narrowly avoid cracking himself open like an egg on a nearby rock. Pain from the impact still ripped through him as he rolled to a halt, but his armor and cultivation saved him from any major wounds.

He stood shakily, missing his new shield but not his life. The kite-shield-surfing Vassal was the first to join him on the rocky slope. Scanning the area, Grant spotted the finish line at least a couple of miles away and started running as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t fall over. He was still in the lead, but the race was far from over. As it was all downhill against the wind, his size was an advantage. Even so, the other competitors were fitter, with a lifetime of training and the stamina that comes with it. It was still really funny to look back and see them get pushed back a few feet every time there was a particularly strong gust.

No trees grew at this altitude, which was a great boon to his reckless descent. It would likely become an issue later as he barrelled down the precipitous slope, since it wouldn’t be long before he breached the treeline and perhaps encountered less dangerous terrain. A thundering roar from behind startled him. He risked a glance back to see that the closest Vassal had kicked a boulder at him, much to Grant’s dismay. One boulder became ten, and ten became hundreds as the loose rocks collided with others, creating a landslide.

Adrenaline surged through his muscles at the terrifying sight, but he knew that no matter how fast he ran, he likely wouldn’t outrun the wall of rocks. “Gonna have to take a few hits.”

<Try to avoid them!>

“Obviously, Sarge!” A rain of missiles peppered Grant’s armor while larger boulders bounced past. Despite the relentless barrage of rocks, the finish line loomed ever closer. Grant could even make out the silhouette of Lady February and her shocking pink hair amongst a sea of spectators. She was standing on the other side of the ribbon, awaiting the five competitors who would make it into the final round.

He would be one of them.