Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

"Break!" came Lindsay's voice as Jack remained firmly 'in the zone.'

He'd been working with steel balls by then, fusing them together, pulling them apart, smushing them into a disk. He'd ended up on a solid cube. He wanted to break it into smaller cubes, but an order was an order. He tore his eyes and the guiding help of his hands away and let the cube drop into the dirt. He'd found hand direction to very slightly improve all performance. Not necessary, but when you could, you did, basically.

Memorite fell back into him like a collapsing cloud. He didn't even think about it anymore, the smooth absorption of his 'little buddies' now second nature.

Mini chimed. <Fatigue Status at Serious. Your regenerative system is taxed. Recommending food as well as rest and recuperation.>

He could feel it, too. His body and those 'soul extensions' that touched his brain ached sorely, protesting the length and breadth that he'd pushed it. A special kind of headache only Nons experienced from such strain. Not quite pain, in this case.

Lindsay brought her hands together in applause. "Impressive, Jack! Really impressive. You exceeded expectations for this session by about double. I estimated you'd get to one point two on Control. Tomorrow can be more balanced. You shaved a whole damn day of training out!"

Jack took a breath as he nodded and walked over to his folding chair, dropping into it and grabbing for his Infused water. He soon burped up a gasoline smell — a clear sign of relying too heavily on the boosted drinks. He eyed Lindsay, who was still waiting for some sort of words in response, hands resting on her hips. "Things just clicked," Jack replied finally. "Almost literally. That triangulation talk of yours was spot on. Just like your tactics of training, I see now, were spot on. Two dimensions, two key phases of training, to set up and highlight the final axis. You tossed an alley-oop. I just slam dunked it."

She leaned forward, her expression teasing. "You must be getting good if you're being self-deprecating about it."

Jack chuckled. "All thanks to my brilliant shifu, Lindsay."

"Yes. Don't expect me to be humble, Jack."

"I don't."

"Good. And beautiful."

"All thanks to my brilliant, beautiful shifu."

Lindsay finger-gunned him like 'right on' and smiled widely. "Also, I don't know what an alley-oop is."

"Hmm. Kinda humble, there, Shifu. Acknowledging your ignorance."

"Pfft. Partial credit at best."

"A dash of humility? I'll take it." He took another drink of water.

"Deal." She snickered. "Actually, I can't take all the credit, considering Mother had her hands in this. As I'm sure you guessed."

Jack was doing an 'mmmn' even as he was swallowing. He shook a finger at her after and said, "Ohhhh, careful! Now we're overseasoning that hubris!"

"Shut up! It's the plain truth."

"Uh-huh. Anyway, an alley-oop is from basketball. Obscure ancient sport."

"Yeah, I know, I've heard of the ball slam-dunking."

Jack tried to keep a straight face at her delivery of that line.

Lindsay noticed his struggle and glowered at him slightly. There was a brief moment where she squinted into the middle distance, a tell-tale sign of consulting her Mini-Mem. "Ohhh… an alley-oop is an assist maneuver to a ball slam-dunking! In midair! That's rad!"

Jack laughed. "Yes. Exactly."

"Alright, Jack, we're done today. Tomorrow will be the simulation training. Try out the aluminum homework from before, and otherwise do your basic exercises later on in your free time. Oh! Work on Solidify. I'm not sure if you can finish it off or not, but you can put time into it without straining yourself too much, as you should already be functional at it and it only involves memorite."

"You got it, Shifu. See you tomorrow, then."

"So you will!" She strolled off.

He was once again chilling out after training. Once he looked around surreptitiously to make sure Lindsay wasn't around to give him shit about it, he reached into his handy duffel bag and pulled out a wrapped one-meter Infused sandwich, cut in half and stuffed with ingredients. He began chowing down hungrily. Two hands — in an intricate balance — were required for most of its consumption. It was the Zweihänder of sandwiches. In fact, that's what it was called: The Zweihänder. It was enough to feed about eight normal humans and precisely one strengthening Jack Laker.

For an hour, anyway.

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Later on in the day, Jack was just beginning some light jogging through Rosenblum Park, deciding on a whim to try a different path, and soon he stumbled upon an odd sight in a clearing within the forest. It was a huge encasing rectangle of light blue glowing energy, surrounded by giant circling letters that read, 'CAUTION! ANP EXERCISE IN PROGRESS! DO NOT ENTER!' Inside, there was a cluster of people running around, yelling, and performing some unusual sport with a lot of glow to it.

Jack's curiosity could not be ignored, and he filtered over by some trees to take a look, popping out a cigarette to partake in while he tried to make out what was going on. It was slightly obscured by the blue rectangle in the way. But there were eight fully-grown, mostly super fit, athletic people inside, playing a field-based game in the grass, with three glowing virtual lines that had to be endzones and a midfield. The ball was a slightly oversized virtual throwball oval being carried by a handler trying to get by the defense. Everyone had an oversized lightsaber-like bat, or a 'virtual staff,' for some reason.

As the offense and defense met past midfield, Jack soon saw the reason. Those without the ball more or less wrestled via the staffs clashing, blockers against rushers, but when one defender got free to the ball-handler, they wound it for a swing! The handler had to block with one hand due to the ball. They parried one strike and were thrown off-balance, trying to dart to the side and slip by. But the striker was not to be denied: a final lunge and the glowing staff clocked the handler in the legs hard. They went spinning end over end once, with a cry.

"Oh, shit," Jack muttered around his ciggy.

But a rippling in the air around impact points showed there was some protective field, like back in Power Park. After tumbling and losing the ball, the previous handler almost immediately got back up. Meanwhile, everyone else was scrambling for the loose ball. A defender whacked it with a staff, sending it at the other side's goal, the ball doing a wild dance just past midfield, with the players sprinting and jostling with a mix of taunts and laughter.

"Oh, shit," Jack once again muttered, when he recognized one of two girls in the mix — Lighthouse.

Jack wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be recognized watching, but the dance was hard to turn away from. It went back and forth chaotically, with one argument about someone getting smacked while off the ball, setting up a replay from the middle. Apparently, full-on attacks were only from or against the ball-handler.

Finally, one side got in the endzone, cheering and gesticulating while the other side hung their heads in disappointment. They were all somewhat uncomfortably close to where Jack was. Of course.

One of the guys — a boy really, looking like he was fifteen or sixteen at most — dropped his staff down, huffing and puffing with his hands on his knees. We waved his hand. "I'm done! No more…" Panting, he stood back up with the pained look of someone very fatigued. "I can't! I've been knocked around enough today."

Multiple people jeered at him about it or went 'Awwww!' loudly in disappointment, in a jumble at once, with some argument thrown in, as he continued to wave his hands and shake his head, finally leaning on his knees again.

"Lightweight!" called a tall, blonde guy in a muscle shirt, with a jacked physique plainly obvious around and underneath. Jack thought, 'surfer dude' upon seeing him. He'd fit perfectly in 'one of those' movies. Surfer Dude shook his head in some disappointment, though it had some acting thrown in. "What was that, four scores? Come on, man! We're doing this for you, bro! It toughens you up! I'll play with one hand behind my back for the next, how's that?"

"Mister motherfraggin' star player over here," someone said sarcastically, though while grinning. "Maybe we'll just go six on one to make it fair."

Surfer Dude had a big, dumb grin as he pointed back to the guy. "You're onto something, bro. Let's do it!"

"Shut the hell up, dude," Lighthouse said derisively, with a disgusted face. She was breathing heavily, sweating, with her hands on her hips, glowing staff leaning against her. What could be seen of her physique under an athletic crop top and shorts was sleek but utterly ripped. A typical Non. "We're not doing something that asinine, even if you're the most gigantic ass that deserves it. We'll go three-on-three. Dozer needs a break. Someone go sit out with him."

Surfer Dude was unfazed, shrugging and grinning regardless. Otherwise, beyond some disappointed grunts, no one argued with her, though no one was volunteering either. They all wanted to play.

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It could be she's just the group boss, but she might also be the only one here with a coat. The rest could easily be all cadets. Not sure, but it would create innate deference.

As 'Dozer' murmured what might've been a 'thank you' and turned to trundle his way out of the energy field border nearby, Surfer Dude suddenly caught sight of Jack. He lit up and pointed. "What about him?! He's even got on athletic drip in your color!" He held his hands out flat with his chin raised and declared emphatically, "Destiny."

All eyes turned to regard Jack, then. Indeed, the colors Jack wore were blue, like the glowing staffs of Lighthouse's 'side' in the sport. Jack took his cigarette out of his mouth and painted on a smile as he waved and called out, "Sorry! Just passing through! Don't know the game! Super new!"

As everyone else stared, Lighthouse, wide-eyed, exclaimed, "Jack?! What, do we have magnets in our shoes!?"

Jack tried not to wince. "Not stalking! It's a coincidence, promise! I run here every day! Small world, ain't it?!"

The group had a few chuckles among them. Lighthouse just made an incredulous face that was at least partially amused.

Surfer Dude barked a laugh and held his hands up even higher. "See?! Destiny!" He began 'pulling' his hand emphatically at Jack. "Come on, new old guy! Come on! Learn the game, bro! It's easy! Walk the line!"

Jack shook his head in exasperation. Walk the line. Apparently, the 'no balls' taunt versus Linewalkers. Is the double dog dare next? "So everyone's heard of me, huh?"

Surfer Dude began a chant while pumping a fist. "Walk! The! Line! Walk! The! Line!" All but one of the others began the chant with him, thrusting their fists. Lighthouse crossed her arms and looked at everyone like they were idiots, though her expression seemed indifferent.

Jack sighed. Peer pressure. What a bitch. I'm going to get creamed in there. It's what I get for being nosy. Again. He took out his steel cigarette pack and dropped his half-smoked ciggy in an open chamber, then closed it, which would snuff it by cutting off the oxygen. He leaned down to set it by the tree roots along with his phone and canteen belt, then began making his way toward the field, raising his hands in surrender against the chant. It transitioned into moderate cheers and applause as he passed into the field.

The border had a slight resistance, but he passed through. The resistance didn't go away — it continued to enshroud him. A message quickly popped up in his head.

Okay, that's good news. I'm still outclassed, but at least it isn't astronomical.

As Jack approached the group, four separated to head downfield. One of them stood out: he was hairless and vaguely reptilian, with reddish-brown scaly skin. The girl in their group was tall and lithe and had her hair in a high ponytail.

Surfer Dude, backpedaling with his staff over one shoulder, called, "Take all the time you need to bring the newbie up to speed! Your ball. We're gonna go strategize how to attack your new weakest link!" Grinning, he pointed a finger at Jack and winked.

"What a great sport you are!" Jack called back sarcastically. He turned to Lighthouse and the others as he drew close. "Sorry about dragging you guys down."

Lighthouse shook her head slightly. "Dozer sucked anyway. Heart wasn't in it. We need heart. Do you have heart, Jack?" A query with a lack of true seriousness, half-mocking.

"You're damned right I do," Jack replied with firm showmanship, holding up a fist. "I have the heart of a winner, and we're going to win!"

There were two other guys. One wore a blue bandana on his head and was somewhat short. He exchanged glances with the other guy, and they both slowly nodded. Bandana Guy thrust out a fist. The other put his fist up next to it, and then Jack, in kind, silently contributed his own fist to the bro-fist trio. Holding it in poise, everyone looked to Lighthouse, next, who eyed each man in turn flatly, then eyed the bro-fist trio just as flatly. Slowly, she drew a bit closer. Her fist came up halfway and paused. She met everyone's eyes again, as if asking, 'Are you certain?'

Everyone met each other's eyes and nodded solemnly. The decision was made.

Finally, Lighthouse nodded, too, and then added the final fist, making the quatro-bro-fist. After this powerful moment, she pulled her hand directly back, hand opening, and made a soft explosion sound under her breath, her cheeks puffing out. The others repeated this, and then all that could be executed had been executed.

"Go get Dozer's staff, Jack," Lighthouse commanded suddenly. Jack quickly ran over and retrieved the glowing object. It was not light despite how it looked, maybe a bit heavier than wood should be, and very slightly unbalanced on one side. It was basically a long club.

When he came back, Lighthouse hefted her staff and said, "Rules are simple. The ballhog gets the ball in the endzone, we score. Use your staff two-handed to block and push non-ballhogs, or swing for your life at the ballhog if you get an opening. You can go for the ball, too. If you get the ball- well. If you get the ball, Jack, pass it to one of us if you can. Passes can't be forward. If that's not feasible, run with it. Take note that bitch is heavy as shit. You can swing your staff with one hand, but anyone who comes at you has an advantage. Usually better to parry and keep moving. If someone takes a swing at you when you don't have the ball, that's a foul. Call it. Few other things, but that's about it. Makes sense?"

Jack nodded. "So, I'm guessing I'm gonna block on offense?"

"Yeah. I'm quick, pretty damn strong, not technically the fastest."

"That would be me," Bandana Guy said.

"Yeah, but not as good against impact, so I am the primary ballhog in controlled space. By the way, as an attack exception, you can trip anyone from the front but not behind. It's not easy, though, and it exposes you. Staff or body. And you can slam with your body. You can trip from behind with the staff only if it's the ballhog."

"Okay. What about me on defense?" Jack asked.

"Just go on the ball, kinda follow the lead defender, or help cut off angles, tangle with blockers, you know, be a body in there. Getting complicated when you're new is pointless. Just fight it out. We'll cover and adjust." She retrieved the ball from the ground nearby and tossed it to Jack. "Here. Get a feel."

Jack caught the glowing oval ball with a grunt. It was heavier than he expected. More oomph was needed on passes. He nodded as he weighed it and tossed it up, while glancing downfield at the obvious form of the tall blond guy. "I'm guessing he's the ballhog for them."

"Yeah, he's a monster," Bandana Guy said. "But him and the scaly guy you see there trade off. They're a pain together. Strong."

"We're faster than one of those, at least," Lighthouse added. "Besides Jack."

"Yeah, thanks," Jack replied dryly.

Downfield, Surfer Dude called, "Alright, we gonna play anytime soon, here?! The clock is ticking!"

Lighthouse rolled her eyes. "Alright, let's go. Let's be sure to put the ass on his ass at the very least."

The blue offense group approached the red defense group waiting on the other side of the midfield, waiting behind some undrawn line, with the offense also poised, with large amounts of space left between. Jack handed the ball to Lighthouse, and they bunched up in a group. Bandana Guy put his hand on Jack's shoulder from behind and whispered, "We're gonna go left. Jog at first. When I let go, run hard, block hard to your right. Clack staffs and try to occupy space. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack answered.

The two groups began jogging, inevitably converging, ready to collapse. The defense was poised, ready to adjust to a sudden shift. As they got closer, Jack felt the hand retract, and he charged right, his staff held in two hands in front of him, angled to try and meet an opponent middle versus middle.

The defender tried to avoid and slide by him on the left, seeing where the others were going, but Jack was prepared for it and was already a step ahead. The defender was forced to meet him slightly sideways as he adjusted. Staffs clacked together hard, and Jack pushed him back with momentum — slightly.

The defender wanted to keep sliding to the left, so Jack shifted and thrust his staff like a barrier to slow the guy down as much as possible. Teammates shot past, and he saw another blocker jam up Jack's defender — already stalled and missing a step to the ball — as well as the red-scaled guy, as a second defender.

Lighthouse went speeding by at the far edge, just slipping by a third defender but hooked by stretched-out staff contact and slowed…

That was when Surfer Dude came in like a too-fast freight train, not even bothering to swing his staff. He just did a block, with Lighthouse unable to escape and forced to interject her own weapon one-handed. She did an admirable job getting merely knocked sideways and keeping her feet, if stalled out. Sadly, the ball took a solid hit from a super-quick, advantage-taking adjustment, and it popped out of her hands, rolling backwards.

There was a mad scramble for the ball as everyone yelled such obvious declarations as "Fumble!" and "Get it!" and "Shiiiit!" Jack tripped a bit in his own pursuit, somehow not falling and keeping his feet. But others were soon ahead of him. The ball did a hideous, unfavorable bounce into their side's territory, like it wanted to dance all the way to their endzone.

"Nooo!" Bandana Guy cried as he and his ponytailed opponent tangled up and tripped just after they'd both picked up speed and seemed primed to get there to fight for it.

The other for the reds was delayed by the fallen bodies, cursing as he had to cut around them.

The ball did a wicked roll that curled it back the opposite direction it had been going. Jack felt his heartbeat pick up as he realized he was closest and had a play on the ball, the red-scaled guy behind him, unlikely to get speed enough to pass.

Just as he got to the ball, he heard Lighthouse call, "Look out!" Almost simultaneously, he was aware of a large presence on his left.

"Body check!" came the respectful call right before the tall, powerful form of Surfer Dude shouldered him like a cannonball impact. Shoulder-to-shoulder, a precision forced 'change of direction.'

Jack felt like he was flying for a moment. He was, in fact. And then he hit the ground in an ignoble tumble, his staff flying free and a bit of forcefield counterpressure keeping his body from any twisting injuries. The world was a big, swirly mess for a moment.

How did that bastard catch up?!

Jack rolled on his side briefly to see Surfer Dude doing a stupid dance in the endzone with the ball. Jack flopped back on his back and looked up at the false sky through the energy field. He spat out a clump of grass and dirt. Ptah!

Cheering, jeering, complaining, it all mixed together in a medley from the others, and he didn't focus on it.

Why did I do this?

Suddenly, Surfer Dude was there grinning over him, something Jack figured was for gloating purposes. But the smile was somehow one of simple joy, and the blond man said, "Best first block I ever saw, newbie. Takes a while to get used to the staff, but you're paying attention. Bulk up and you'll be a tough brick out here." He held down a helping hand.

"Thanks." Jack took the hand and was mostly pulled to his feet by the man's prodigious strength. "Nice play on the ball, Blondy."

The blond man kept on grinning as he nodded and turned the hand-up into a firm handshake. "The name's Highfive."

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