//------------------------------// // Blessing // Story: In Victory, We Are the Losers // by daOtterGuy //------------------------------// “It’s simple,” Nike said as she flitted around Rockhoof. “All you need to do is exactly what you’ve been doing. Defeat anyone that tries to enter that cave—” She pointed toward his clan’s refuge with a wing “—and I’ll give you a blessing as a reward for your success!” “... I have a few questions,” Rockhoof said as he lowered his shovel. “Sure. Ask away.” Nike waved a wing nonchalantly. “Whaddya mean by defeat? Do I need to kill’em?” “No, just defeat,” Nike emphasized. “Killing works, sure, but if your opponent runs away or admits defeat, that works just as well.” “Kay. What kinda blessings do you grant?” “Depends on the circumstance.” “Like?” “The most common is increased strength,” Nike provided. “But, if you say, triumph against an enemy that poisoned you, I would instead give you a blessing that would make you resistant to that poison.” “So, I would adapt to whomever I last fought?” “Exactly!” Nike snapped a wing. It was a surprisingly sharp sound. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! The best way to improve.” Rockhoof furrowed his brow, uncertain. “I’m not so sure—” “How about this?” Nike interrupted. “I’ll give you one blessing after your next win as a test run. If you don’t like it, I’ll flutter off and you get to keep the blessing. But if you do like it, we establish a working relationship.” “... That sounds reasonable,” Rockhoof relented. “Great! So, you have your shovel ready, right?” “Yeah?” “Then duck.” “What do you—” Rockhoof crashed into the ground. The same fox from before snarled in his face as it snapped at him with its teeth. “You blasted Tartarus-sent spawn of Grogar!” Rockhoof shouted. He used his weight to roll the fox to the ground with him on top, pinning the pest by its throat with the handle of his shovel. It squirmed underneath him, snapping and biting, its legs trying to gain purchase on his weapon to shove him off. Rockhoof would normally whack the foul creature upside the head and be done with it, but this vermin had been bothering him for days, and he was well beyond sick of its presence. “What are you gonna do?” Nike asked, hovering nearby. A ragged breath. Rockhoof weighed his conscience. He was in the perfect position to end the creature’s life. Press down a little harder and the fox would suffocate within minutes. He watched it struggle, helpless against him. He felt a wave of sympathy for it. Instead of ending its life, he slashed the fox’s face with the sharp edge of his shovel in one quick motion. The animal yipped and scampered off into the underbrush. The look of fear on the creature’s face settled uncomfortably over Rockhoof, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with it again. He was almost certain of that fact. “I kind of expected you to kill it, but, hey, a win is a win.” Nike shrugged. She grinned widely at Rockhoof. He felt apprehension at her smile. “Ready for your reward?” Before Rockhoof could reply, he felt his body break. He screamed. Muscle, bone, and sinew snapped into pieces as they rebuilt themselves, bigger and stronger than before. Heat radiated through him as the pain intensified, until he blacked out. He opened his eyes to realize that he had collapsed onto the ground. He stood back up, nearly stumbling over his own hooves at his new height. He was now a good full inch taller than before. A quick test of the muscles in his body proved that they were fully recovered and, more importantly, thicker and stronger than before. He felt that he could do more, push himself harder. A far cry from before, when he thought a mere breeze could topple him if it blew hard enough. “How does it feel?” Nike asked. Painful. Exhilarating. Agonizing. Powerful. Intoxicating. Like having been burned by the hottest flames as an ingot of iron to emerge strong as steel. He wanted to tell Nike no, that this was too much. That it would cause him to lose his way, but… if he kept winning… His father’s words echoed in his mind. If he defeated just a few more opponents, if he pushed himself just a bit harder… he could be someone his father would call ‘son’. A horrible aching wound in his heart throbbed in hope at the thought. “... Where’s my next opponent?” Rockhoof asked. Nike grinned wider. It nearly split her face in two.