Ple-Sen
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While waiting for the spring of time to unwind, Alaria continued her reflections. Looking at herself now, from the outside, she clearly understood that the month and a half spent in Margel had benefited her physical condition, with the caveat of the combined weight of knowledge from the archive and the weight of the dumplings from "Pam-param." It was strange, considering her active lifestyle, but it was a fixable problem. The Tanarsian understood that she was now much stronger than when she had first arrived in this world. In a way, she had caught up and even surpassed her previous level, although if it weren't for Melesar's curse, she would have achieved even greater heights.
Nevertheless, she realized that, in theory, she could even defeat an opponent like Victor Loss, despite the fact that the latter was a more experienced and better-prepared warrior. Her former self would not have been able to cope with someone like him. It was progress, albeit a small one, but there was still a long way to go. Especially when looking at Erefir, who could eat Victors like him for breakfast and ask for seconds. And she did all this without any of the schools of Baldur, unlike him. Where did Naria dig up such a monster? Did she summon him from a world where weak boys fall off cliffs and survive only thanks to magical armor? It was a somewhat strange comparison, but never mind.
Would that be enough to survive the meat grinder that "Carnelian" might send them into? Experience suggested that even such a talented warrior as Erefir could perish from a single wrong decision. Relying solely on the ability to wield a heavy club would be naive. Was she ready for this morally? The path of a warrior was undoubtedly fraught with certain risks, and she knew this better than anyone. And she made a promise to herself to overcome the fear that held her back, that parasite that had settled in her soul. But there was still a difference between courage and recklessness. Therefore, it was worth judging the situation, soberly assessing her own strength. Becoming a tourist who simply follows along silently and still receives bonuses was definitely not the way to go.
Nevertheless, she realized that, in theory, she could even defeat an opponent like Victor Loss, despite the fact that the latter was a more experienced and better-prepared warrior. Her former self would not have been able to cope with someone like him. It was progress, albeit a small one, but there was still a long way to go. Especially when looking at Erefir, who could eat Victors like him for breakfast and ask for seconds. And she did all this without any of the schools of Baldur, unlike him. Where did Naria dig up such a monster? Did she summon him from a world where weak boys fall off cliffs and survive only thanks to magical armor? It was a somewhat strange comparison, but never mind.
Would that be enough to survive the meat grinder that "Carnelian" might send them into? Experience suggested that even such a talented warrior as Erefir could perish from a single wrong decision. Relying solely on the ability to wield a heavy club would be naive. Was she ready for this morally? The path of a warrior was undoubtedly fraught with certain risks, and she knew this better than anyone. And she made a promise to herself to overcome the fear that held her back, that parasite that had settled in her soul. But there was still a difference between courage and recklessness. Therefore, it was worth judging the situation, soberly assessing her own strength. Becoming a tourist who simply follows along silently and still receives bonuses was definitely not the way to go.