Starlight Necromancer

"'This action will be fully supported by the legacy'... the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Foster asked himself with a wry smile, looking at the writing in the book, "You gonna help me learn martial arts or something?" He turned toward the metal snake wrapped around his wrist, before letting out a light sigh. And as he did, he saw someone else that he didn't expect to see again so soon. It was that guy, clothed in a cloak with a mask pressed onto his face. He threw his bag into the carriage that Foster was in and jumped into it without a moment's hesitation himself.

"Erm... hi?" Foster said with a wry smile, and the guy in front of him just stayed silent, "Does that mean you're going to ride in here with me for a while?"

Slowly, the cloaked man nodded his head. At least he didn't fully ignore Foster. With a light smile, the young man looked at the figure in front of him, "You know, you can take all that off if it's uncomfortable. Don't need to keep wearing stuff like that. Breathing with a mask on your face like that must be pretty hard, eh?"

Foster was hoping to be able to at least talk to this guy a little bit... He would be the perfect person to inconspicuously ask for a few details about this world. But even so, he didn't answer, and simply sat there silently.

"...Right. I'll just get back to my book, then." Foster suggested, turning back toward the book to keep on readiong instead of trying to keep talking to him. Obviously that wouldn't end up going anywhere anyway.

The movements that were described in the book were rather complex, and Foster wasn't sure if he was going to be able to figure it out just like this. They were going to take a break every single night, so maybe Foster should try and figure something out tonight when they stopped to camp somewhere.

"Hm..." He muttered quietly, mentally trying to go through these movements. In his head, it didn't seem that hard, but it was always like that. And while Foster did learn a little bit about different martial arts after picking it up from some of the other members of the syndicate, it was just one or two very basic techniques from whatever martial arts those guys were trying to teach him.

It wasn't like they were able to beat Foster even when using those, so it never really felt necessary to learn anything like this. But now that he was in this kind of world... Maybe it was worth it to invest a little bit of time into training after all.

At the very least, being able to do martial arts would be kind of cool... Although probably rather hard to do without having something like a teacher. Not that Foster didn't understand the basics of fighting already, though. It was just that his style was rather... dirty. It wasn't something that you would see any sort of martial artist do. As proven by the way that Foster beat down that Simon guy before he died.

Foster kept reading through the book, trying to properly remember the sketches as well as the writing that was describing them in more detail. He tried to imagine what they were going to be like, so that he wouldn't have to start from that point when testing it out later tonight.

However, before Foster knew it, half the day had already passed. He was just sitting there, reading through the books he brought, while that cloaked guy was sitting there without saying a word or even moving an inch. As far as Foster was concerned, he could have died sometime in the middle of the ride. But that was quickly disproven when the carriage came to a halt. They were going to take a break, letting everyone relieve themselves while those creatures drawing the carriages took a break and got something to drink. The cloaked guy immediately jumped up and left the carriage, as if he had been waiting for this before he even entered it.

"...Do I smell or something?" Foster asked himself quietly, looking at the metallic snake, "Eh, who am I asking, you literally lived inside of a dead guy's skull."

Thinking that this was a good chance to get rid of that uncomfortable stiffness in his legs, Foster also quickly jumped up and climbed out of the carriage. He stretched a bit, and then walked to the front of the group of carriages to talk to George for a second. He seemed somewhat busy, so Foster wanted to ask his question real quick so that he wouldn't bother him for too long.

"Excuse me?" Foster said, and George quickly turned around toward him, "Yeah?" He asked in a somewhat annoyed tone. As figured, George was really quite busy right now.

"I just wanted to ask if I can help out somehow?"

"Don't worry about it. We're just taking a short break, nothing special. Just wait till tonight, and help set up camp. Just go take a piss for now, take a short walk, and then come back. We're heading off again in an hour or so." George explained, "Ah, and this area is decently safe, but don't wander off too far."

"Got it. Thanks." Foster smiled a bit and turned around, quickly doing just what George suggested he did. And after relieving himself by the bushes, Foster once more pulled out the book that he was reading from all day. He took a deep breath, and attempted one of the movements.

It was clear to him that the way he was moving was absolutely not the way that this was intended to be done, but at least, something did happen. The eyes of the metal snake started to glow, and something unexpected appeared in front of Foster.

---

[Legacy training mode has been activated]

[Argomna Style – Basic Stance – 0% Progress]

[Argomna Style – Basic Footwork – 0% Progress]

[Argomna Style – Basic Forward Strike – 0% Progress]

---

"Basic forward strike..? I mean, that's what it's called, but... This thing is actually going to help me out? Like actually?" Foster muttered with a wry smile. And more than that, Foster was slightly focusing on the fact that this martial art seemed to be called 'Argomna Style'. Was this invented by Thiodrus himself?

Somewhat curious about what this meant, Foster stood there for a while, before he then saw something appear in front of his eyes again. Just that this time it wasn't anything like this message box, but something different. It was like there was someone else standing in front of him, but also not at the same time. They weren't really there, it was just... like a rough silhouette surrounded by chaotic scribbles. Somehow, Foster knew that he was supposed to move into there, though. He would fit perfectly into that silhouette.

He held his body in the exact way this silhouette told him to, and to an extent, it was as if his whole body just slid right into place. Foster took a deep breath and kept this position for a while, before he saw something else that was new to him. More scribbles appeared, just that this time they extended from his limbs. From his hands and feet. Once more, Foster knew what these scribbles wanted him to do.

Following allong with the scribbled lines floating in the air, constantly shifting around and revolving around each other, Foster pushed his fist forward to repeat that 'Basic Forward Strike'.

The scribbles that were in front of his right hand all disappeared, since that was what he had hit with, but those in front of his legs and his left hand were still there. Foster pulled his hand back, and the scribbles appeared once more. And he really understood what this all meant right away, even though he saw it for the first time.

These scribbled lines wanted to show him exactly how he was supposed to move his body. That silhouette was for the 'Basic Stance', and those forward-squiggles were meant to show him all that he had to do for the forward strike.

And that wasn't all. When Foster wanted to see more about the footwork, squiggled circles appeared on the ground, where he was supposed to step while executing the general movements for the strike.

Of course, while his body wasn't moving on its own like he was somewhat hoping, he still had something that he could use to help him learn all this. And Foster just knew that this was the power of the artifact wrapped around his wrist. With a light grin on his face, growing more and more excited as he saw these scribbled lines floating in front of him, he pushed his body forward, again and again.

For the full hour, Foster kept on repeating the same movements, over and over again.

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