Chapter 17

  They talked. Michael did most of the talking, while Sensei Stephan did most of the listening. In the end, there was a brief silence before Michael’s sensei hummed.

  “And this… dungeon, anyone can enter?” he asked.

  “I think so. That’s what makes it dangerous. People could die in there.”

  “I agree. What happens if some random person stumbles upon the cave like you did? I doubt most people would ever make it past the second room, let alone the boss room. Why did you go back once you managed to survive?”

  There was a long silence. Michael did not reply, even though he knew the answer to the question very well.

  “Forget it,” said Stephan, “I understand wanting power, even though I would never put my life at risk like that. What happened when you went back?”

  “It got harder,” Michael said, “every time it’s a little bit harder than before. I don’t know if it’s permanent, or if it’s harder for everyone. I don’t even know what happens if two people go in together.”

  “If it’s like those board games my son plays, people who go in should, in theory, remain together. But I admit that I wouldn’t want to test that theory on my skin, so I’m afraid it will remain an unknown. Don’t look so surprised, Michael, did you think I would be bugging you to take me there?”

  “Honestly, yes. It’s not every day you get a chance to gain magical abilities.”

  “No, it’s not. But your tale, it’s gruesome. I don’t know how you managed to do that to yourself. How you still manage. I reckon the next time you go in, you’re going to torture yourself again, trying to raise the level of that healing skill of yours, am I wrong?”

  He’s not, Michael thought. Especially now that I know that the efficiency is shit when I use it on other people. If I want to use it to heal people in the real world, I need to raise its level.

  “I see it in your eyes. You’re crazy if you think I’d ever go to such lengths myself. I have a family, a son. You think I want to risk my life? Not a chance. Not everybody is a crazy maniac like you.”

  “I simply had nothing to lose. Still do,” Michael said. He wanted to be offended at being called a crazy maniac, but maybe his sensei was right.

  “Perhaps. Besides, would you take me if I asked? No, your face tells me you wouldn’t. You don’t want other people getting access to magic.”

  Michael crossed his arms without thinking, “Do you think I’m wrong?”

  “No. With powers like yours and the potential to grow with the dungeon, you need to be careful, paranoid even. I don’t claim to know anything about it, of course, but I know enough about the world. Take the whole martial arts scene, for example. It’s a shit show, full of assholes and egos so inflated they could take flight. You see half the shit I saw with my colleagues, you’d understand what I mean. Better keep where you get your powers from a secret from now on.”

  Michael nodded, impressed at his teacher. His opinion of the man had been in flux the whole day, at least until he realized that he shouldn’t judge people by his strange metrics. Afterwards, he had begun to look at the man in a different light, and realized that his teacher was smart, cautious, and overall a good person. He treated Michael like a grown man and not like a na?ve child, offering to share his views but without trying to force his mindset on him.

  Then the conversation moved to speculations about the origin of magic, and the presence of old mana in the world.

  “You think Master Taiko could be one of those few who have magic despite the world being so barren of it?” Stephan asked.

  “He might be. That’s why I agreed to stay.”

  “Yes,” Stephan said, taking a sip of his coffee, “I can see why you don’t see the need to come to class anymore. With the job and the dungeon, I get it, but I still think you should come. Our training earlier showed me that you need to work on your control, and what better place to do it than the dojo? Just, don’t blast Phillip with that sphere like you did me.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could.”

  “I know. I’m not a fool, I see what’s going on in the dojo. I think it’s good training for you, you are going to see a lot of stress in the near future, better to get used to it now while it’s still easy.”

  Michael disagreed. If his hunch was right, Stephan did not want to intervene because he didn’t want to create conflict with Phillip. They weren’t close, but the two had known each other for years, and Phillip had been at the dojo ever since it was opened.

  Phillip was also stubborn. To argue would mean to kick the man out, which would in turn create tension with the others. All of it would threaten Stephan’s idea of a quiet life, hence why he tried to convince Michael that it was good training. However, he wasn’t completely wrong either.

  “Speaking of training,” Michael said, eyes twinkling with an idea that had suddenly sprung to mind, “I need your help with something.”

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  “Are you sure this is safe?” Stephan asked, gingerly holding Michael’s gun like it was a bomb ready to go off at any moment.

  They were in the middle of a field far enough away from anything that they shouldn’t have any problems training there. Michael was standing a dozen yards away from Stephan who, despite not being a good shot at all, had been instructed to try and hit Michael anywhere below the knee.

  “Perfectly safe!” Michael yelled back, “I have plenty of food and 160 copper coins here,” he pointed at his bulging pockets and his pack, resting in the shade by his truck a few feet away. “Shoot away.”

  Stephan shook his head, muttering something Michael could not hear, before steeling himself and taking aim. Then pain suddenly bloomed in Michael’s leg, which gave out from under him before his brain had even registered the loud boom of the shot. Biting down a curse, Michael immediately triggered his healing ability.

  Stephan had rushed over in the meantime, looking worried. “Are you okay?”

  “All fine,” Michael replied, consuming a coin to top up his mana, and biting into a caloric protein bar. He let his sensei help him up after showing him that he was indeed healed, the only proof left of the damage being a hole in his jeans and the bloodstain.

  “I have to say, I don’t like this,” Stephan said.

  “Me neither. Don’t you go thinking that I like pain.”

  “You seem to be handling it well enough,” Stephan joked nervously. “Are you sure this is helping, though?”

  Michael sighed. “It was just the first shot. I was unprepared. We have plenty of bullets and I’m not stopping until we run out of either bullets, food, or I use up more than half the coins.”

  “Fine,” his sensei sighed. “Get ready.”

  It took five more shots before [Distortion Field] even triggered at all, and while its activation was a major success, it appeared in the wrong place so the bullet still pierced Michael’s flesh and shattered his bone. Healing the damage took more than twenty minutes.

  “I think it’s all about predicting when and where you will shoot,” Michael said, “there’s no way I can react fast enough to stop the bullet after you’ve already pulled the trigger.”

  Unless, he thought, I level up the reflexes skill some more.

  He had not told his Sensei about all the skills he had, keeping some secrets hidden.

  Stephan nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Yeah, try to make it obvious you are going to shoot. I’ll keep my eyes glued to the gun and try to understand your body language, see if that works.”

  “Alright,” Stephan said, taking a deep breath and tensing up.

  The bubble appeared, and then Michael saw a small cloud of dust being kicked up from in front of him. Seconds later, the sound of a gunshot echoed from far hills.

  “Hey! It worked!”

  Stephan was slightly pale, “I think I’ll take cover for the next shot.”

  “Why?”

  “The ricochet. What if it hits me?”

  It was unlikely. In order to hit Stephan, the bullet would have to be reflected just right by the bubble. But it was a possibility, and the next shots were all shot from behind cover. They all hit Michael before he was able to react, since he could see much less of Stephan than before, but it also meant that he was learning to watch the trigger finger, and recognize the imperceptible muscle movement that preceded a shot.

  What followed was a painful afternoon of training. In the end, his coins were the first thing to run out, ending his training early.

  76 coins left. It’s still a lot, but I don’t want to go lower for now.

  “How are you?” Stephan asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  The man snorted. “I can’t imagine someone going through that sort of torture and being fine. I shot you so many times that I think I even improved my technique!”

  “Yep. You hit me in the gut only three times before your aim got better. Then you shot me in the balls. That did hurt, you know?”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Maybe. But I reached a good fifty percent success rate. It will have to be enough.”

  “What for?” asked Stephan, “what would you possibly have to do that you think getting shot multiple times is a real possibility?”

  “I’m just a driver,” said Michael. Even though his tone was light, it was clear that he wasn’t going to elaborate.

  Stephan snorted again. “I guess I too am crazy for going along with your crazy plans. Can we go home now? I have stuff to do.”

  “That Abruzzese guy,” Michael listened in while the two men in the back of his borrowed car talked loudly, “I don’t like how he runs his business. It’s a matter of time before the carabinieri get him, mark my words. You might want to cut ties.”

  “I see,” the other man said. While the first talked with a heavy Italian accent, the other man was American, but not from around here. “I will let the others know. Thank you for the heads up.”

  “Esposito on the other hand? è un bravo picciotto, he’s got a good head and he’s smart. Too bad his daddy is behind bars, but that’s never stopped them, has it? The woman… now she’s dangerous.”

  “Indeed she is,” the other man said, then looked at Michael’s reflection on the rearview mirror. “Aren’t you worried that he’s listening in? He could snitch, tell her our shit.”

  The Italian man scoffed. “Who, the bocia? He’s just the driver, he won’t say a word. Will he?”

  Michael felt the sharp gazes of the two men. “No, sir, of course not. I’m just the driver.”

  “See?” The Italian man said. “David did say that he’s a good boy.”

  “Carmela said he’s off limits, though. I wonder what she means by that.”

  “Means she’s playing games again.”

  “Don’t we all? That’s why David never dips more than the tip of his pinky in our business, always having plausible deniability.”

  “I see. Smart.”

  “Pah,” the Italian man spat, “americani codardi. I get it, but trust me when I say it wouldn’t work back where I’m from.”

  The other man shrugged, unfazed. “Too bad we’re not there, are we? Anyway, how was the flight?”

  “Orribbile,” he said, accent thick, “the food at the airport was una merda, but you Americans aren’t known for your good food. I feel like I gained three kilos with all that grease I was forced to eat.”

  The rest of the trip continued in much the same way until they reached the pawn shop. Michael was instructed to remain in the car, where he waited for a good hour before the two men emerged from the building, led by Carmela, who got in the car’s passenger seat next to Michael.

  This was not the plan, Michael thought. He stayed silent.

  “Oh my, what an upgrade,” she purred. “Is this beauty yours?”

  “I wish, ma’am. Old Dave made sure you had the best ride possible, and that’s sadly beyond my means for now.”

  She giggled at that, eliciting a groan from the Italian man in the back.

  “Carmela smettila di flirtare col cazzo di autista,” he said, and while Michael had no idea what he said, he felt exasperation in his tone.

  Carmela simply giggled, making the fuming man stew in his own fumes. Soon after that, they reached their destination. The three strolled inside like they owned the place, escorted by a rather pale-looking, pudgy, short man in an ill-fitting dark suit. The man was sweating bullets.

  They were received in a meeting room by another, equally frightened man, sharply dressed but clearly in distress, and that was all Michael managed to see before the door was shut in his face, with orders to watch the road and not let anyone enter.

  It was after two hours of boredom spent standing in the barely even cool shade outside of the building that everything went to shit.