The World's First Monk (OCs, Isekai, LitRPG, Fantasy)

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 27: How to Form a Raid and Power Level Your Classmates



Galdurian Arc Warden Academy Dueling Grounds - Primus

​

Tisara Morvain looked up from her desk, as the small magic communication mirror her family had given her to stay in touch started chiming. They weren't the largest noble family, and had barely been able to send her to the academy. The mirror had been a significant investment, which was why she hadn't broken it.

Both she and her room had what certain Monks might call a 'goth vibe', and the finely crafted bronze mirror clashed with it. Hard. But keeping it with her books at least kept it out of sight, and made it look like she studied far more than she did. She glanced at the clock, confirmed her roommates would still be in class for a while, and answered.

"Hi, mother. How is everyone?"

"Excited! We heard you're in the Ternion Tournament! They just posted the brackets on some new magitech screen in the shopping district, on that big restaurant, the one that sells the Pizza. Who's this Drake Long that's fighting your entire year?"

"Oh…y'know, just the Hero that apparently led that Wallow Dungeon Raid. Nobody important." She shook her head at her mother.




"Well how am I supposed to know!? It's not like he's been immortalized in song!" Tisara just crossed her arms and stared at her mother. The older woman pinched her brow. "He's been immortalized in song, hasn't he."

Tisara nodded, and smirked. "He's the one behind the Pizza revolution too. Seems like you guys missed the Everfeast."

Her mother nodded. "Your Father and I were working, and so were your siblings. Money has been…tight, after negotiating your tuition with the main branch of the family. But we'll survive. The prize money from the Ternion Tournament is a lot right? Any chance you'll win?"

Tisara chuckled. "None, whatsoever. I'm just hoping to gain a level or two without risking my life. Drake Long will probably knock me out immediately."

Her mother's eyes turned sly. "He's a Hero right? Handsome? Is there any way you could get him to…?"

Tisara sighed. "No…Princess Valcrest snared him before anyone else had the chance. Apparently it's a whole…epic…monogamous…romance."




"That's okay dear, I'm sure you'll find someone worthy. Do you remember what I told you when you left?"

Tisara gave her a humorless smile. "I try to forget, every single day."

Her mother continued, despite her daughter's sass, "I don't care who you marry, so long as they're rich."

Tisara sighed. "Y'know, sometimes I wish you were like those Bigoted noble parents…"

Her mother chuckled. "No…you don't. Your grandmother would've beaten you by now." Tisara gave her a look, and her mother chuckled. "Don't worry, I was a good girl. As far as she knew. But your Uncles…" She whistled. "They earned it, several times with their antics."

"I'll have to ask them about it when I see them. My match is first Mother, I need to get going."

"Good luck dear! We love you!" She heard a rumble from her father's deeper voice in the background, and assumed he'd said the same thing. She repeated the words, and then departed for the field.




Within ten minutes, she was facing down the handsome Monk Hero, who arrived at the last minute, and seemed tired. But he still smirked at her, as a message popped up in her peripheral vision. She opened the message, eyes widening as she saw who'd sent it. It said the following.

Hello there. I'm too high level to have a fair fight with you, so if you're up for it, I'd like to invite you to my party, so you can take advantage of both Experience Buffs, and level up even further. Just shout 'I accept', and I'll invite you. If you decline, I'll just Duel you normally.

Thank you for reading,

Drake Long​

She looked up, missing whatever the ref said, but Drake's voice carried louder, and his Charisma was probably higher. "These matches where I'm massively higher level than my peers…will act as a chance for each of you to prove you can make it, in my Raiding Party. This is your recruitment interview! So show me your best!"

The referee looked confused, but Tisara was smirking darkly. "Go easy on her, Black." Drake said, as he manifested a clone, and the black cloaked Drake nodded, before stepping towards the Dark Knight. Tisara took her stance, activated her damage reduction tanking aura, and charged forward. Only to slide to a stop as the ref blew their whistle.

"Drake Long! You were just told of the restriction on your Magic Item. Recall the clone, or be disqualified!" The boos drowned the poor ref out, but Drake held up his hands.

"People, people! Please! Our referee is just doing their job. But, sir, you told me that only one of me should be fighting. And you never said I couldn't use the item, just that it was restricted."




The referee paused, as the crowd murmured angrily, but eventually he nodded. "My apologies. You are following the rules as written. Please continue."

With that, black cloak began essentially boxing with a greatsword, as Tisara did her best to keep up with the fast physical striker. Drake could see she was tiring quickly though. Mentally, Drake instructed black cloak to be less competent, attack slower, take more hits, etcetera.

Almost immediately, he saw her experience gain dramatically increase. The crowd watched in disbelief, as even at thirty five, leveling this fast was unheard of. As Tisara managed to strike down black cloak, purple was there next, to take his place. The Dark Knight didn't even pause, she just kept swinging, and Drake watched her in turn, her skills, when she used them, what they did, etcetera. This would determine who he invited, but so far, it seemed Tisara understood her rotation and could competently manage her cooldowns.




Tisara didn't notice at first, but as she gained experience, her focus tunneled, and the bodily high from dinging, and then continuing to gain experience at a ridiculous rate, was seriously hyping her up. She took less time to finish purple as she used her damaging class skills to wreathe her blade in magic, and as she did, she dinged again, the 'kill' giving her a quarter of what actually beating Drake would. This brought her to thirty seven and a half. The crowd cheered, while many of the older spectators, teachers and alumni alike, murmured quietly to each other.

Over the next five minutes, she took out two more clones, and managed to hit forty. At that point, the ref announced the one minute warning, and Drake stepped onto the field. "You've gained quite a lot of experience. Ready for the real thing?" He called to Tisara.

"Bring it!" She answered, charging forward.

The Monk became a blur, and Tisara's eyes bulged as Drake hammered the center of her bodily energy, right in the stomach, not with a fist, but only two fingers. It felt like his fist, though. The next thing she knew, she couldn't breathe for a few seconds, and was on the ground, disarmed and disoriented.




She sat up slowly just in time to process the referee's words. "…goes to Drake Long!"

As she looked up, the handsome Monk was already there, offering her a hand up. His punch had knocked both the air and adrenaline from her, leaving her drained, so she took the hand and managed to stand, even though her armor felt even heavier than usual.

"Are you alright?" He asked

Tisara nodded sheepishly. "I thought I'd be able to take more than one hit from you, though…"

Drake chuckled. "I hit pretty hard. That's kind of what Monks do. You should visit the Tower, and pick an advanced Class."

Tisara nodded. At forty, there were now skills she was missing out on by not choosing. "I'll do that. Your Class's knight, Sethis, he chose Blood, didn't he?"

Drake nodded. From what he understood, not unlike Death Knights in World of Warcraft, Dark Knights could choose a type of magic to specialize in that affected every single one of their other skills. He wasn't privy to the whole list, as some classes were more private or obscure than others, but Blood, Frost, and Shadow magic were options he was aware of. "He's saving up for a change. His new skills are situational, and he doesn't care for them. Said he wants to go with Frost or Shadow."

"Well. If we're partying up, have him go Frost. I'm choosing Shadow." Tisara stated plainly, as she sheathed her weapon, and started walking off.

"I'll let him know." Drake answered, walking back to his part of the field.




What followed next was essentially the same series of events. He'd face one of his First Year peers, message them, they'd eagerly accept his invite, and take full advantage of the double experience buffs. Oddly enough, the Headmaster, who was among the teachers watching from their magically constructed seats floating above the field, seemed oddly pleased, which was fine by Drake. The old elf was abrasive, but he'd put up with a lot of new, rapid changes forced upon him by his Gods. Drake also suspected this lopsided bracket full of First Years was meant to level them up the whole time.

Despite their best efforts, only the tanks who'd raided the Wallow managed to survive more than a single punch from the Monk, and to their frustration, he hadn't needed many more than that to bring their health down. Ki Block was turning out to be quite a damaging skill, and with the limit on how many times he could jab his opponent's Ki points removed, and how fast his Monk fists were, he could deliver rather effective bursts of damage.

He also found he could apply Ki Block to other skills. It made Dragon Palm's stun effect last longer, and his Flurry of Blows follow up attack now did quite a lot of damage. He hadn't needed his other skills so far, as they wouldn't do much against opponents in heavy armor, and most tank classes had skills that could divert, nullify, or even absorb elemental attacks. It seemed his skills that used Ki were harder for them to block, which was useful to know. Any monsters with similar tank builds would have the same problem. Probably.




In the end, he'd chosen his ten picks for their forty man Raid Party, and according to Vincent, each of his pick's fellow party members had already expressed an interest in joining. Joining Sethis, Bjorn, the Valentis twins, Thalondor, and Orlok, was a sturdy Battle Master Half Elf named Rion Denor, whose mastery of efficient tactics and skill usage had impressed Drake more than the others. He'd also managed to KO his way through the entire rainbow of Drakes, just in time for the one minute warning. Borge, the Boarkin Guardian Fighter of Wu Kong's Class Eight also managed to impress him, though he relied a bit too much on his artifact weapon, it was easy to see why. It was incredibly versatile.

As Drake continued to One Punch Monk his way through the tanks of his year, the last two worried him. Robert Eisenmensch was exactly what Drake had expected, as he took the field. Handsome, High Human, and obscenely wealthy. The Holy Knight had to have an Alternate Job as some sort of Artificer offshoot, for as he accepted Drake's invite, the clever nepo baby announced to all watching, "I created this armor myself! It's not quite Artifact Tier yet…but it is powerful! More than enough for a Raid."

Robert hit a metallic sphere on his chest, and Drake smirked as it started glowing bright blue with energy his eyes told him was just electricity. Red and gold heavy armor spread out to cover his body, shielding him in what was, to Drake's eyes, a passable recreation of the Iron Man suit in the style of Arcadia's knight armor. After punching so many tanks, Drake was starting to realize they all shared a similar style, one he'd noted that the Triarchy's military also wore, albeit in different colors.

The armor lit up with magic as it powered on, and as the helmet encased his face, two light blue eyes burned to life on the golden faceplate. He took a fighting stance, opened his palms, and began charging them with what Drake saw was an elegant blend of magitech, and magic circles designed to, if he understood what he was seeing, enhance Robert's skills.

Drake barely noticed the ref shout to start the match, and it was only once Eisenmensch fired off an all too familiar energy pulse from his palms that Drake grinned, and dodged with a swirling step. He knew just from proximity that there was too much heat and power in those blasts to deflect them by hand. It was a good thing his gauntlets could strike targets at a distance. Yet, as Robert continued to fire focused magic pulses, Drake found his gauntlets were still taking electrical damage, which surged into black cloak, and KO'd him quickly.

Purple Drake changed tactics, matching the barrage with Ki Blasts, and that finally made the knight cease his barrage. It had taken him two seconds to determine Drake could fire his blasts longer than he could. Thus, he switched to melee, and though Drake really should've expected it, he was still caught off guard as Eisenmensch rocketed forward with blasts from his boots, and the magic enchanting his fist armor activated, rapidly and significantly increasing their melee damage. Drake now understood why he had no weapon. His fists were the weapon.




"Nice fists…" Purple grunted in pain, as he caught them on his gauntlets, and began taking damage from the rapidly heating metal. "Seems I'm starting a trend…"

Robert quipped right back. "I saw you fighting in the Wallow…I was halfway through making a sword, when I realized…I could save a lot of energy, time, and materials by just punching!" He broke the grapple, struck again, but once again, purple cloak caught the fists. "I was also able to crank the damage bonus higher than a sword could withstand! Like this!" The gauntlets flared with magic again, light blue and rapidly, they lit up the area, and blew away purple cloak Drake in the same move.

Robert managed to punch all the way to red, by the time the one minute warning hit. Despite his armor, Drake had been hammering him through his clones throughout the fight too. Eisenmensch learned in those last few seconds the same thing that Drake had. Just being able to perceive one's opponent moving faster, didn't mean you could block them. Two Ki Block strikes to his abdomen and faceplate sent the Holy Knight onto his ass.

Drake, however, was grinning wide. Robert clearly worshiped Galdurath, instead of Laurelin, but it seemed the God of Knowledge's holy followers were still every bit as potent as his wife's.

​

His final tanky opponent was Varian Rynn, and as he strode onto the field, Drake noted a few changes since their Wallow raid. He was no longer sword and board, but rather had become a Dual Weapon Fighter, who apparently still possessed tank skills, likely by way of skill tomes. The system, and the academy, still classified him as a tank. Warriors were one of the oldest classes, with the most branches, so Drake wasn't entirely surprised that someone as rich as Varian had been able to change his class, and afford the tanking skill tomes needed to still keep his role in his party.

Varian raised one of his new swords, an Artifact tier weapon he'd gotten from the Wallow's final chest, towards Drake. Apparently, and unsurprisingly, practicing with it had led to its current dual-sword form. "I don't need your E.X.P. rainbow. Fight me properly, Monk Hero!"

Drake winced. Varian was over seventy after the raid, but he'd hoped he'd gain at least one level. "That's a lot of experience to miss out on…are you sure, Varian?"

The heavy armored warrior roared, and charged towards him, swords drawn. So Drake obliged him.




With fighters like Varian, even his defensive Monk skills would be tested. Drake was also much more aware of just how squishy he was. The goblins had never really managed to land enough hits to highlight that weakness, but facing his peers, competent opponents all of them, had made him realize through his images that he might be more durable, but his Health Points were not. He set blue cloak where he'd been standing to just chill there and look pretty with his Waterbending aura active, while Drake closed the distance with Varian.

They were a blur of limbs, and Drake winced as the swords easily cut into him. Their clash was brief, but bloody, but Drake gave as good as he got. He also decided distance was the smart play. He summoned a Dragon Pillar between him and Varian and the massive eruption of stone and molten stone damaged the tanky fighter quite badly, then, Drake sent a stream of water pulled from the air around them into the newly raised magma spewing pillar. Steam filled the air, and though Varian leapt straight into the cooled pillar, shattering it and ending the steam, Drake had already expanded it to cut off his sight.

Between the Waterbending Aura and his Life Giving Fist, Drake hit Varian through the steam enough to recover quite a lot of health. Then, he gained more distance, just as the warrior decided to spin in place, using his Whirlwind skill to dissipate the steam cloud. He looked up to see Drake floating in the air, green Ki Lightning dancing around his body as he guided it, and then struck Varian.

To his credit, the warrior sliced at the lightning, but Drake was in full control of it. It coiled around his weapon, straight into his armor, where it effectively electrocuted Varian where he stood, both stunning and damaging him. The heavy mithril plated High Human fell to a knee, smoking, and unarmed as the referee called the match.




Once Varian was healed, he walked off without a word to the victorious, but tiring Monk. Everything his images felt, he eventually did too. So far though, getting bodied by Rion's Battle Master skills had hurt more than Eisenmensch's fists or Varian's swords.

With the tank portion of his ridiculous gauntlet now over, Drake wondered which of the damaging classes he'd face first. Healers rarely participated in tournaments like this, both because they lacked enough attack power to win, and on principle. It was universally agreed upon that their role was to heal the fighters, and keep everyone alive. Instructor Hollowbranch was currently in charge of this, though Drake spied several First Year healers helping her out, Rose among them.

"Drake Long's next opponent will be the current lowest ranked damage dealer in Year One! Wu Kong, please report to the field!"

Drake looked over, as his disciple flipped onto the field from the stands to applause. Florian's song had made him an overnight school celebrity, and of course, once they were both on the field, the crowd started singing the chorus to The Monk and the Monkey, and how they smelled kinda funky.




The cocky monkey grinned at Drake. "You look tired, Master." He cracked his knuckles.

Drake smirked. "Not too tired for you, Wu Kong." He fell into his Dragon Stance, and gestured for the Siminid to bring it, while simultaneously inviting Wu Kong to his party.

"I know how your Item works!" Wu Kong declared. "All I have to do is smash the rainbow, and you, and then I'll be the Monk advancing!"

Drake gave his Disciple a wide smirk. "I've been taking it easy on you, Monkey…but no more."

And with two Steps of the Wind, the Monks leapt into combat.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 28: The Monk and the Monkey


Galdurian Arc Warden Academy Dueling Grounds - Primus​

While it appeared both Monks had leapt into combat, Drake had actually jumped backwards, off the field, leaving Wu Kong to stop short before him and squint in confusion, right as black cloaked Drake popped out of stealth with a brutal uppercut to the Siminid's jaw.

To his credit, the monkey leaned into it, backflipping and landing on his feet, just in time to catch a Flurry of Blows from his Master. To an average observer, the Monks seemed matched, but to those who could see their lightning fast strikes, it was clear that Wu Kong was doing all he could just to parry. Trying to gain ground, Wu Kong shifted to Firebending Stance, a skill he'd gained as a Burning Soul Monk with a Path of the Elements Monk for a teacher.

Of course, Drake also knew firebending, and the addition of fire to their fight was neither unexpected nor unwelcome. The crowd roared as flames erupted from the Monks, ironically, right as the crowd got to the 'burning bright for all to see' part of The Monk and the Monkey.




Then, suddenly, an explosion of flame and a burning roundhouse kick, caught on the Siminid's palms, sent him sliding across the field, but his bare ape feet managed to keep him upright and balanced. "You know, Wu Kong," Drake started, and the monkey tensed. He hated when his Master started monologuing. It always preceded a big attack. "There is an aspect of Firebending I've yet to teach you."

Lightning started crawling up Drake's body in arcs of green Ki powered electricity. The spectators who'd seen him duel Skalos whooped excitedly. The black-cloaked Monk smirked at the monkey. "Dodge."

With a thunderous crack, a bolt of Ki lightning surged towards Wu Kong, who while panicked slightly at the shift, had seen this before, in their duels in the Leisure Sphere. The Siminid grinned, as he understood Drake's game. This was all for the crowd. He probably wanted to level him up, and simultaneously get people spreading even more rumors about their strange, new class.

Wu Kong kept his head, and swirled out of the bolt's path. Drake guided it harmlessly into the dirt with an explosion behind Wu Kong that drew more cheers. "Your aim needs work, Master!" Wu Kong taunted, "Perhaps you need a larger target?" The monkey turned around then, and started jiggling his ape posterior in Drake's direction. Wu Kong's fans ate it up.




Drake responded with lightning, and with a comical yelp, Wu Kong leapt twenty feet in the air, assisted by his Nimbus. He floated on the cloud, gripping his tail gingerly as he blew out the flames on the tip of his tail, sparked by Drake's precise control of the lightning.

It was Drake's turn to taunt him. "Seems like my aim is…on point, Disciple. But weren't you going to smash through all my clones, and then beat me? You're running out of time." By this point, three minutes had passed.

Wu Kong nodded, taking his meaning. He had to go all out, or he would lose the chance for experience. Plus, Drake had had to set up the crowd to believe that Wu Kong could almost surpass his master thanks to his training and class, despite the gulf in their skill and levels.




Wu Kong breathed deep, and then roared, activating the Rage of the Monkey King, and immediately followed that with a Berserker Rage, which extended the duration of his rage-based stance to a full minute, at the price of leaving him exhausted afterwards. Each of his hits did critical damage in this state, and that was what he was after. Wu Kong became a crimson blur as he rocketed towards black cloaked Drake, who blocked his strike, but still took enough damage to pop. Next came purple, and so on.

One on one, at least in this state, the Siminid Monk could keep up with Drake's clones, who were now giving the same subtle lack of effort they had to the other duelists. And like the other duelists, his level grew quickly, from thirty to thirty five. In one minute, Wu Kong managed to smash his way to red cloaked Drake, the last one before white, and that was where Drake made an effort again.

The crowd only saw two crimson blurs, as they fought in the air almost as often as they did on the ground, but eventually, Wu Kong ran out of steam. Another more successful roundhouse kick to the monkey's jaw sent him slamming back into the field, as Drake floated above him, and slowly, dramatically, and purely for effect, brought both of his hands before him, moving them in a circular pattern that Earthlings would recognize as a Yin Yang pattern, before aligning them by his waist, one atop the other, as he charged up a Ki Blast.

He didn't need to shout the name of the skill, he never had, but it helped him focus, and ticked his nerd box. It would also give his Disciple a chance to counter, and perhaps future opponents would mistakenly assume he needed to shout to use the skill.

"Kaaaaa!"




Wu Kong's eyes widened. He was quite familiar with what came next, and just how sharply Drake could turn the beam. There was a flaw in the Kamehameha Wave though, one Wu Kong had found through desperation.

"Maaaaaaaay!"

Wu Kong grimaced. Usually, he'd dodged this with his rage stance, but that was now spent, and though he could technically activate the Rage again, any critical hits would do enough damage to him to end his match prematurely. And due to recent life events, Wu Kong had gained a new determination to never finish prematurely.

"Haaaaaaaa!"

He shot into the air with the Nimbus, gaining height. He'd have to sacrifice his movement and reaction at the last possible second, but he did have one skill left that could take out the crimson cloaked Monk.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaay!"




As Drake reached the threshold for the stronger Ki Blast, several things happened at once.

"HAAAAAA!" Roared through the stadium, as the destructive Ki beam surged towards Wu Kong, who dodged it by charging into the attack. Usually, Drake responded to this by making the beam even wider, but the monkey was betting on his Master not wanting to reveal that versatility this early.

His gambit paid off, as red Drake smirked, seeing his Disciple's ploy. Wu Kong dodged the beam in the air by inches as it cut across the sky, into the clouds, aimed high enough to not accidentally clip one of Primus's skyscraping towers as it surged through Arcadia's atmosphere.

"Buuurning…FINGERRRR!" Wu Kong shouted out his own skill, as he reached Drake's crimson robe, and slammed his palm into his chest. "HEAT END!"




Drake's clone exploded in powerful flames, as Wu Kong spent one of three charges of his Burning Soul skill to take him out. The crowd erupted into cheers, and a very tired Monkey King floated down to the field with the help of the Nimbus wisps around his ankles. They formed into the full cloud, as the cheering died down, in response to what the original Drake was doing.

Slow, loud claps echoed across the field as he stepped onto it. "One minute warning!" The referee shouted, and Drake nodded at him in acknowledgement.

"Not bad, Disciple. Unfortunately, you needed all three of those to get through my Health Points." Drake slid his hands into the sizable yet subtle pockets of his robe as he stepped onto the field.

Wu Kong grinned as his fur bristled. "Are you saying I can't take you down?"

Drake smirked nonchalantly as he shamelessly channeled Champion Lance. "I'm saying…your Tournament Challenge ends with me, Wu Kong!" He let the air around him make his robe flare dramatically, and then, he vanished.




Wu Kong naturally recognized this, too. Usually, Drake entering Stealth meant the final blow was coming. Much like the Kamehameha, Wu Kong had learned, or more accurately guessed, how to stop him when in stealth. Every time Drake struck from being hidden, it was at his head or abdomen, usually with the intent of knocking the air out of his lungs. He seemed to like avoiding shots to the head, when possible.

Wu Kong focused his mind, and breathed, looking for any sign of Drake. Shifting dirt. A slight crunch. Anything that would give him away. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his staff. For some reason, at Drake's insistence, the Monk Hero had insisted on upgrading it with very specific upgrades, and had made it able to shrink, or grow to almost absurd lengths, reinforced its durability with Orichalcum, and turned it red.

For his part, Drake was impressed. Wu Kong was using his stance to react rapidly to wherever Drake attacked him from. With the crimson, gold-capped Power Pole, the monkey had every direction covered. But Drake knew how to unbalance him, and Step of the Wind was off cooldown again.




Wu Kong suddenly yelped, and spun, smashing his staff through the air behind him, where he'd felt Drake yank on his tail. Since it wasn't an attack, Stealth did not fade, but that quick turn and strike left his back wide open. Wu Kong went rigid, as Drake reappeared, and applied a Ki Block to the bundle on nerves in his neck, that was also a nexus of his body's inner Ki.

In technical terms, he'd empowered a Dragon Palm with Ki Block, and the resulting block would, he had discovered with some practice on low level and vaguely humanoid monsters, result in what Drake was calling a Vulcan Nerve Pinch. Unfortunately, this time, the system did not unlock a new skill with that name as it had for the Kamehameha Wave.

Unceremoniously, and somewhat anticlimactically, Wu Kong collapsed to the ground, tongue lolling. The referee called it when Wu Kong did not rise again. "The victory goes to Drake Long!" Wu Kong's fans visibly deflated, and Drake watched quietly as he took in who seemed to be rooting for him. His Disciple had a loyal, growing fan base, but it seemed like most of the student body was hopping onto the Drake Long bandwagon.

Drake took his place just outside the field again, and waited, glancing at the bracket board floating magically above the stands for all to see. Thankfully, someone had the wherewithal to update, and shrink, the comically lopsided bracket with each of Drake's victories. There was a long list of names left to level and punch through, and apparently the plan was to see if he could make it to the actual brackets, with the older students, after essentially fighting every First Year that had wanted to participate in the Ternion Tournament.

At least these first matches were only five minutes. He'd have ten against Skalos or whoever else he faced from the upperclassmen, and against the other schools, in the proper tournament, there was no limit whatsoever.

Drake sighed quietly, and sent out the black cloaked version of himself once again, as his next opponent arrived.

 

[Sahqoreyth]

Chapter 29: The One Punch Monk



First, our boy's stats, and skills, for those who may not remember them/want to reference them later.

---

Bolts of Starfire burst around a red cloaked Drake Long, as he spiraled through their booming impacts with a stupid grin on his face. His latest opponent, a young female Vireolith and Balance Druid known as Mireloth Galendil furrowed her wooden brows at the Monk Hero. He almost seemed to be… enjoying bobbing and weaving through her Starfire.

For context, Drake had always enjoyed caster Druids. Malfurion Stormrage was iconic (in the Richard Knaak trilogy, at least) and nobody could deny the stupidly useful spell list that caster Druids had access to. On Arcadia, it seemed things were much the same. Mireloth was able to fire off spells quickly, but Drake could tell just by her skill usage that she either didn't understand her rotation, or hadn't fully unlocked it yet.

As the battle progressed, and he had let his rainbow of experience pinatas detonate in bursts of his opponent's arcane magic, he could tell she'd unlocked new skills, but didn't quite yet understand how to use them. They were being flung too, and with each one, their caster gained a corresponding Buff, one that Drake's overpowered eyes could read at the speed of thought. Drake could see everything about her but her thoughts, though the more he used his eyes, the more he wondered if that was within his skill set. Perhaps if someone imagined an image, he'd be able to see it?

As he watched the Balance Druid attack, he'd determined that this system of casting was somewhat similar to the Balance Druid he was familiar with, namely, her skills seemed to require a dance back and forth between bolts of Starfire, and Nature's Wrath, and casting those attuned her to different kinds of magic, Arcane and Nature, rather than Solar or Lunar. Rather than quipping and teaching in combat, he'd instead tried something else, and had simply punched the spells she used in the wrong order into nonexistence, and dodged the ones that were correct. To her credit, she seemed to catch on quickly to what he was doing.




This was the first time most of the academy had seen him use the Dispelling Fist so obviously, and as such, the first usage caused their newly arrived from class commentator, to exclaim in disbelief.

Naturally, their commentator was Florian. Because of course it was.

Drake couldn't tell if he was official, or if he'd just enchanted his voice to project his words for the lols, and nobody had Counterspelled him yet.

"We are seeing something new today fellow students! It seems our Monk Hero has learned to literally punch through spells, and those Fists of Far Reach have turned that ability into something rather terrifying! I believe our brave Balance Druid still has a chance though folks! It's hard to see, but Miss Mireloth is finding her rhythm!" Naturally, Florian had been cheering for Drake's opponents to destroy him, and had thus far quite enjoyed seeing his images blown to pieces, vividly describing and enhancing the visuals as they happened.

Alas, their matches were not long, but Drake was satisfied that Mireloth now seemed to understand her rotation, and as the one minute mark approached, and red cloak 'accidentally' moved too slowly from the path of one of her orange Wrath bolts, Drake stepped onto the field.




Since Wu Kong's match, he'd put his hood on, and his bearing had changed on purpose. At least when the original was on the field. The other Drakes had remained friendly, charming, or taunting, when needed to motivate his opponents. The white cloak though…had very quickly become synonymous with defeat.

And Mireloth was no exception.

The Monk stepped with the wind, and appeared behind her, but the Druidess had seen that trick already. Vines shot up around him, only to then burn to ash in seconds as Drake switched to his Firebending Stance, and turned the air around him into a focused inferno. He didn't like the look of fear this display drew from the tree woman, but it would not last long.

His KO combination was simple, but very effective. A sneak attack from Stealth with his Dragon Palm, combined with his Ki Block, stunned them, and in the second after the stun landed, he layered on the Buffs, which activated at the speed of thought, and reset every time a new duel started.




The Fury of the First Dragon, which sent his opponents prone, or flying through the air, and Annihilation Aura, which while not being fully utilized in this scenario, still made his fists classified as radiant weapons.
This led to the follow up. A shift back to his Airbending Stance, and his Flurry of Blows, something that his class always followed up his initial strikes with, struck so fast, in one focused area, that it seemed like a single punch.

Multiple compressed air punches, further empowered by his rather damaging Divine Storm that went off automatically with every three hits with a radiant weapon, sent his opponents flying, didn't injure them too badly, and did enough damage to wipe out the acceptable amount of health.

To the crowd, all they saw was a white-gold blur, and then a boom, before Mireloth went soaring into the stonework of the stands. She left an impact crater, but the arena's magic and the rules of a duel kept anyone from an untimely demise. The stonework already had several such craters.

Florian's exclamations drowned out the ref calling the match. "And once more, the Monk Hero's opponent is down in just ONE PUNCH at the one minute warning! It seems like Mr. Long is making a habit of this!"
Drake purposely turned his hood towards Florian, smirked, and then flew back to his spot just off the field. Just in time for his next opponent to arrive.




What followed was exactly the same, every time. He punched through all of his fellow damage dealers in Class Seven, though both Leif and Zara had refused to accept his party invite. The experience gained for those who'd been in the Wallow raid wasn't that large anyway, even with the bonuses. Drake had also noticed that his own gains were depressingly incremental. Seventy eight to seventy nine alone felt like soloing a fresh planet in Helldivers 2, and would probably take just as long to achieve.

He still used his clones on easy mode against them both, and sure enough, once the one minute warning sounded, they slammed into the arena's back side, with a single punch. Leif had loudly proclaimed that it was multiple punches, but all anyone ever saw was a flash, and a strike.

The monotony continued for Drake as he punched his way through Class Six, Five, and Four, and many in their class had apparently signed up at the last minute once they heard about the absurd level gains. Once Rael Astorious, and upperclassman opponents were in sight, the monotony was broken. Right as he finally faced off against the highly seated, for a First Year, Rose Valcrest. It was as Rose took the field opposite him, that someone in the crowd shouted, "Look! Our Goddess approaches!"

By this point, enough rumors had circulated about Drake's initial arrival at the academy that pretty much everyone knew Laurelin apparently had a carriage pulled by pegasi. As it landed and parked at the far edge of the field's boundary, she appeared atop it with a flash of light.




"Greetings, my children." She giggled as the gathered students roared in approval. After being here for several months, Drake had slowly realized that Arcadians tended to favor their Goddess of Life more than their God of Magic. This was, as far as he could tell, mostly because Galdurath was simply a somewhat more common sight. He coordinated the Adventurer Guilds, and monitored for any large outbreaks of monsters. Adventurers got word of such outbreaks in real time, and at this point in their society, there were always people available and looking to take on such quests.

Laurelin, though…was rarely seen, and whenever she left Eldarheim, she always drew large crowds. Even now, Drake could see people, both students and citizens of Primus, wandering towards the field, drawn by that unmistakable golden radiance that was somehow also silver like light reflected off a moon.

The Goddess continued. "I was told that my Hero was Dueling today…" She glanced up at the lopsided brackets, and frowned, briefly. "If it is alright with all of you, I wish to spectate as well."

Once again, cheers erupted, and once they died down, Florian's dulcet tones cut through the din. "My Goddess!" He bowed low and with flair as she looked his way, all smiles. "Please, join me in witnessing your Hero's victories!" He gestured to what seemed to be a commentator booth that Drake was fairly sure someone had just molded into existence with magic. Up to this point, the prancing ponce had been all over the stands.

Laurelin was of course the picture of calm. "I would be honored, Florian. Thank you. Could you bring me up to speed?"




Drake made no move to start the next round, their poor ref was understandably star struck, and nobody would deny Laurelin anything she asked.

"Of course, Goddess. As you saw from the Headmaster's joke of a bracket, young Drake Long has been pitted against the entirety of his First Year peers! And so far he's…absolutely crushing them. We were just about to watch Arcadia's latest power couple go head to head, when you graced us with your presence."

Laurelin smiled coyly, as though she hadn't engineered all of this, and chosen this moment specifically to appear. "Oh my. Seems I arrived at a good time."




Before Florian could reply, the referee shouted, "Begin!"

As before, Drake launched his clones at Rose, and as before, they were taken down. It was clear neither one of them was thrilled about doing this, but the experience was nice, and Rose had to participate because of who she was.

"Another blast of holy Light reduces a Drake to dust! I don't think our maiden likes it much, though folks." Florian needlessly commentated.

Laurelin spoke then, and her voice reached her people just as easily as Florian's. "Would you enjoy seeing one you love blasted apart, by your own magic?"

"About as much as I'd enjoy taking them out with a single punch." Florian answered smoothly. "I don't envy our participants, but someone must advance! Will Drake be able to one shot his lady love? Or will Rose break his streak?"




Through their party chat, Drake spoke to Rose, as he stepped onto the field. "I love you."

She smiled slightly. "I know."

"I'm still going to end it with one punch."

Rose's smile shifted to a smirk. "You can certainly try."

Barriers of light three layers thick formed a holy bubble of nope around her. Light surged through her body, and her hair flared as she activated her own Buffs, and heal-over-time spells. She didn't really need healing, but she had items that turned excess healing power into a barrier, which in this instance, further reinforced the three she'd just cast quite significantly. Silence reigned, as all eyes were on the Monk.

For the first time, Drake didn't simply vanish. He spun, generating three bolts of Ki Lightning as he shifted stances. Rose was well aware of his skills and how they worked, and he in turn understood hers. Much like the versions of Priests he was familiar with, Light Clerics could only use so many barriers at once. Skilled healers could stack barriers before the debuff that kept them from using any more took effect, and said debuff was shorter than the duration of her shields. All a healer had to do was pay attention, and they could keep either themselves or a target of choice almost permanently protected.

For Drake, this was just a DPS check, but he had to avoid looking at Rose's face so he didn't lose his nerve.




As the lightning swirled around him, he struck suddenly. Each bolt in succession shredded her holy shields with intense plasma, and Drake swore quietly as he realized he needed a fourth to fully break the last one. Rose managed one recast, but Drake's damage simply outpaced her shields. As the fourth bolt of Ki Lightning surged into her shield, it broke, and Drake vanished and reappeared in a flash, right before her.

As they'd agreed beforehand once he demonstrated that he could in fact break her shields, she shouted, "I forfeit!" Right as his empowered punch lightly tapped her stomach.

The referee acted immediately before the crowd could start booing. "By forfeit, the winner is Drake Long!"

The crowd had a mixed reaction, but Drake was entirely focused on Rose.

"I hated having to do that…even just watching your images get killed by our classmates is…a lot. And I know you pretend not to feel it, but advanced Mirror Images do have feedback." Her ears visibly deflated, but Drake found that just made her cuter.

He tilted her chin upward with a gentle hand. "It's just a show, Rose. The pain is nothing I can't handle. You know my clones are a lot more durable, usually. You should go rest back home. I'm not even going to be fighting the proper bracket today."

"But your healing-"

Drake shook his head. "I have plenty available. Tala and Caelum seem to be just fine watching this, let them handle it. I'll need you for tomorrow."

Rose sighed, and nodded. "I…could use a break. But make sure you turn on Drone. I want to watch once I'm rested." She didn't like to admit it, but empowering her shields to that degree had drained almost all of her magic. It was something she'd never attempt in a Dungeon, but in this instance, it had served as a genuine test of damage output, and Drake had not exaggerated his numbers.




As Rose departed to mixed cheers and boos, Drake took his spot again, and the single-punch smackdown continued. His opponents were all G.o.b.l.i.n. S.l.a.y.e.r.s. at this point, but oddly enough, he found landing his KO combo still brought them below the threshold for a dueling win.

In specific terms, he did not only take them with one punch and nothing else. There was a lot of damage from Patient Defense, and elemental attacks from his clones. Bjorn especially, who healed himself by hitting things harder as a Berserker Barbarian, required quite a lot of elemental mastery to whittle down, but even the older student eventually found himself on the receiving end of Drake's fist.

As the raging bearkin, seated higher than the rest of Class Seven mostly because of his age and class, went slamming into the far wall Laurelin spoke again. Once more, all eyes turned to her.

"It seems a bit unfair, no? Fighting over twenty opponents with barely any rest?"




Before Drake could even respond, the referee called for a brief intermission. Students left to relieve themselves. Or purchase food. But Florian, of course, saw an opportunity. He literally pranced like a greek satyr over the wall and onto the field, casting a spell at Drake as he trotted over.

For his part, Drake was inclined to roll with Florian's antics. He and the Bard had bonded over lyric writing and drinks in the leisure sphere, and while Drake was still salty about his attitude during the Skalos debacle, namely for making Rose cry and immortalizing that act in song, he found he genuinely liked Florian. His tongue was sharp, but his morals were solid. Laurelin also seemed to favor the Bard, but it wasn't hard to see why. Florian could be annoying, but he also was somehow always around when music was needed to cheer someone up, or otherwise emotionally move them.

"Drake!" Florian shouted,getting the now rather sizable crowd's attention with his enhanced voice, "Would you be willing to answer a few questions for your growing fan base?"




Drake eyed Florian for a long moment as he activated Drone, who greeted him with a chirp, and then began streaming. Drake lowered his hood. "Sure Florian. Anything for the fans." As expected, his words were now also being projected.

"First things first! Do you intend to win the Ternion Tournament?" Florian asked with a flamboyant gesture to their surroundings.

"Nah…I'm just punching my classmates for fun…" Drake said with heavy sarcasm, "I'd like to see how I stack up, but no…I'd be surprised if I won. The Upper Classmen and our friends from the other schools will probably find a way to beat me. And I know my one punch streak will end eventually."

Drake was hoping, anyway. He didn't feel ready for Tharvoss monsters or raiding Golgorrath, and if he was the strongest the three largest academies on the planet had, they were in significant trouble.




"Moving on…what's up with this one punch thing, anyway? Are you making some kind of statement?"

Drake shook his head. "I didn't plan to start this, it just kinda…happened. I was honestly a bit…distracted, and initially just wanted to see how many Skills I could combo at once. Turns out I have quite a few potent combinations with my Paladin Auras."

Florian smirked, "Well, you may not know, but the Ternion Tournament is a big deal for Primus. People will be talking about your one punch streak after today. That, and the fact that you've successfully punched through most of your peers without needing much healing. You're probably going to end up with another title!"

Drake's smirk vanished, and his tone was deadpan. "I feel like I have enough of those…I don't really need-" But the fucking Bard had already pranced off back to Laurelin.

"What do you think, Goddess of Life? Shall we give him another title, to honor his strife?"

Drake just looked at Laurelin. Straight in the eye. Expressionless. Silently pleading.

The blonde Goddess chuckled, glanced downward at her long, eternally billowing pregnancy-hiding garment, and then back to Florian. "Hmm…my Monk has made a habit of taking down his opponents in one punch…" Her smirk widened as she saw Florian's reaction to her words. "Does the Academy's best Bard have any ideas?"

Florian, as she had spoken, had begun to grin wide. He had a thought. And it was so clever. So original. Simple, but powerful. Not always literal, but it didn't have to be. The stronger Drake became, the more the name would stick. "From your lips, to mine ears. I know exactly what we shall call him. Now all we need...is the right moment."

As Class One's minotaur, known as Brammoth Ironhorn, stomped onto the field Drake repeated his process. The minotaur accepted, and almost immediately, Drake realized the Fury Warrior was cutting through his clones too easily. Black, brown, and purple cloaks fell to a flurry of rapid runite axe strikes. Drake was glad the upgrades were working correctly. Much like the World of Warcraft version of a Fury Warrior, his damage was unrelenting and fast. But the images did their job.

One managed to stun him before lingering bleed effects made the image shatter, another laid an elemental beat down on the minotaur's midsection, though even Drake's stone fists did little against Bram's chiseled abdominals. For his part, Florian was suspiciously quiet, but the buzz around a new title for his newest muse was already moving through the crowd.

Drake, meanwhile, was having problems. Brammoth was as thicc as any tank specialization, and hit much harder. By the time red cloak was bisected, the moving mountain of muscle was barely at the threshold Drake needed for a single hit.




Bram roared to the sky, and rolled his axes in his surprisingly dexterous grip. "Finally! I have now cut down your clones in record time…and all will know that Brammoth Ironhorn broke your streak! You are impressive, Monk! But play time has ended!" Drake just nodded to himself, as Bram empowered his attacks further with a furious roar, and charged.

The minotaur had mentioned not being able to best Rael Astorius. He bragged, often, even out of context, that he had proven to be stronger than every other First Year, except Rael. Drake wasn't even surprised. Fury Warriors were overpowered in WoW too. But they had holes in their defense, and thankfully, it seemed Arcadia's more realistic version couldn't just heal all wounds by hitting things harder. That ability seemed to belong exclusively to Berserkers like Bjorn, and now Monks as well, though Wu Kong had yet to learn the Life Giving Fist.

White cloaked and expressionless, Drake stepped onto the field to cheers. In his head, he paused, almost not receiving Florian's Message spell as the thunder of Bram's hooves came closer.
"Give me a signal before you one-punch him, if you would. It'll really sell the moment!"

Drake frowned slightly, as he realized he didn't actually know if he could reply to Arcadia's version of a Message spell. It was short range, low level, and exactly the kind of utility that Bards were known to possess. He had zero doubt Florian loved abusing it, but in this instance, Drake would indulge him.




Drake stepped to one side as the twin axes cut through the space he'd just occupied. He bent backwards, now thankful that he'd tested his new body's flexibility with beach limbo. He backflipped away from the swirling blades of death, but the relentless Warrior was not done. He just kept attacking, that was all Bram knew, and Drake could guess, all he'd ever needed to do. There was, however, a brief window where the Fury Warrior, if they consistently failed to hit and build rage, had all their skills on cooldown at once.

And as a final powerful blow in Brammoth's rotation came down on Drake, only for him to fly up and away from it, that window opened. A flurry of Ki Blasts rained down on the Warrior, and the crowd cheered. They knew what was coming. Drake changed up his rotation this time. As the blasts of focused energy briefly threw off Bram, Drake landed hard on the field, and used Dragon's Pillar. The earth surged and roared, spewing fire and molten stone, and even the mighty Ironhorn couldn't faceroll a mini volcano.

He began glowing with a deep red energy, as he used the rage built up from taking that much damage to rapidly heal. That too, Drake wanted on cooldown. Drake continued to dodge Bram's strikes as he readied Assassinate for the end of the minotaur's healing. As the glow faded, Bram surged into a fresh flurry of his basic, and most quickly recharged attack skills, but it was already too late. Drake was a blinding white blur, and he flashed up, and then down the minotaur's massive frame spinning like a bladed Beyblade, landing behind his opponent as Assassinate hit.




Though it wasn't fatal, and wouldn't be, in a duel, it was the most damaging attack Drake had left to keep his one punch streak going. It also brought Bram well down below the threshold, and his healing had just been spent. Drake looked up at Florian after landing, and nodded. The Bard was ready and waiting, as was the Goddess, who was wearing a fake smile as she watched the duel. He knew she'd prefer if they didn't fight, but she'd been forced to accept long ago that sentients needed an outlet for their darker impulses, and the method to control them had been tournaments of skill that promoted friendship, and camaraderie.

"Here it comes, folks! It took a bit more effort to whittle down the mountain that is Brammoth Ironhorn, but it seems the time has now come…"

Sure enough, once again Drake vanished in a flash, and though Bram flailed wildly, trying to hit him or knock him away, Drake dodged, and then struck through the flailing axes. One of them bit into his shoulder as he landed the strike, but not even that sharp pain could stop him from using the skills he'd already activated. He'd been stabbed enough by this point not to flinch or lose focus, but it still hurt quite badly. Especially as the axe was ripped out, and Brammoth Ironhorn was sent flying, creating the largest depression yet in the stonework of the arena.

As he had before, as the dueling sigil flashed in victory over the back of Drake's hand, he held it up to show the ref, and the crowd. Florian's voice cut through the air as the dust settled.

"Arcadia, give it up for the One Punch Monk!"




The now quite large crowd roared in approval, quickly devolving into chants of 'One Punch'. Drake just chuckled quietly. Of course they bestowed a title right as he hit the point where one-shotting his opponents became infinitely harder.

Rael Astorius took his starting position with a flash of cerulean magic, and no preamble. Drake shot him an invite, and he accepted. As the ref signaled for them to begin, Rael spoke over the party chat, and directly to Drake.

"I think I knew…even in the Wallow…but especially after that Malblin Tyrant trapped you. You struck it down despite how scared you were. You had a mind to rival Vincent Kei. And everything you've done since has only confirmed that you're the Hero of our Age. My party and I will follow you to glory. Or death. Whichever we find first."

The white cloaked Drake smiled. "I will do everything within my considerable power to keep you all from death. That's my priority. Not glory. Not even clearing Dungeons. Everyone eats, everyone lives. Those are the only rules I have for the Raid so far."

Rael smiled back. "Those might be the only two you'd need. Now then…just because you're our Raid Leader doesn't mean I'm going to hold back against you."




Drake had to blink, at being labeled that way. His gamer brain reverted to Earth context for a second. He'd never been very social, despite the massively multiplayer aspect of an online RPG. Leading a raid, in any of the various worlds he'd dipped his toe in/saved from certain doom had seemed like a lot of effort. With about two hundred more intelligence it was turning out to be a lot easier than he'd previously assumed.
"Let's give the good people a show."

Diamond shaped shards of ice magic formed rapidly in a massive swarm around Rael, and then shot towards black cloaked Drake.