#i will learn eventually

It had been a couple of weeks, traveling, gaining strength, understanding and adjusting. The bounce of the earth, the wind, very aether that permeated the air was different from Howler's timeline, so it was no wonder they had to take that time. 

During those couple of weeks, Howler hadn’t actually gone into a fight, relying on their stealth training more than anything. No weapon felt right in their hands, not after their old one was left behind in nearly three decades into the future. 

But they had to adapt. It was what they were made for. 

A bite from a water-serpent could be painful, but not lethal as long as it didn’t hit anything vital – like a joint or neck. So all Howler really needed to do there was to keep dodging backwards whenever it lunged – the sharp, long and narrow teeth were meant to pierce and hold, and the smaller head didn’t hold nearly as much muscle to exactly create a powerful bite. 

Still, they’d have to be careful. Less lethal than it looked like or not, it was still painful, and Howler couldn’t exactly switch into healer mid combat. 

Not anymore, at least. There was a desperate click from their arm, a mechanism that was trying to call out for a weapon that was no longer there to switch into a different style. For magic. To heal. Or to slice, or to attack from distance - anything but raw pure fists. 

But that mechanism had broken down over a moon ago, and while it had been on the list of things to fix… well there hadn’t been time. 

The serpent twisted, tired of Howler running circles around the beast, striking with a fist every so often against the scales. Nothing too hard, just enough to get the wavekins attention, get it moving around more. Waste more energy. With Howler being smaller than it, that was their best option. 

‘You’ll never match the raw strength of most of your opponents with your frame,’ a voice echoed in their ears, cool and icy and emotionless, with a bored purr that had sent a fearful shiver down Howler's spine every so often. ‘So use your speed. Tire them out. Tire me out.’ 

‘It’s no use punching solid steel, see!’ another voice – of a woman with fierce sapphire eyes and golden hair that shimmered like the sun, who stood proud and tall and ready to fight – ‘What you need to do is find the weak spot, and then pour your all into it!’

Sliding under the thrashing tail, Howler was quietly thankful for all the teachers in their life. Even as the water soaked their clothes and scent of salt managed to sneak it’s way through the mask, the cold air fogging up the goggles, all they had taught was enough to dodge just in time, just in the right way for them to find another angle to attack without wasting too much energy. 

More than anything, they were thankful for the hand-to-hand combat training, brief as their time with the monk had been. 

Circling around, Howler sped up – running up the serpent itself, using the spines as footholds and finally kicking off by using their head as a springboard. They wouldn’t be able to keep this fight up much longer, their clothes now weighing them down – but thankfully, the serpent had slowed down just enough for one solid hit. 

“UP HERE!” Howler shouted, as the serpent was shaking its confusion from the earlier hit off.  

Another teacher to be thankful for – this jumping power was partially genetic, partially the painstaking training done to impress another. 

Howler pulled their mechanical arm back, metallic joints creaking as ceruleum coursed through its artificial veins. A faint, golden glow surrounded the fist – aether, claimed the studied; chakra, claimed the wielders of the tradition – as Howler hit the apex of the jump, and began their descent back down. 

Between the reinforced prosthetic, gravity and Howler's own force – both the physical and more aetherial – as well as well timed lessons in physics was enough. A solid hit against the top of the serpent's head sent a resounding CRACK across the Salt Strand.

For a second, they were both frozen - or so it at the very least felt. It always felt like that after a fight against something that demanded a little more work to defeat. That final hit, the strike that administered the kill. It always felt like a small eternity. 

But soon enough, the serpent crumbled against the wet crystalline floor, water splashing as it fell. 

Howler was no fool however – they waited within a certain distance, one hand raised to strike again, as they circled around the body to wait for the twitching to stop. Sometimes these things liked to pretend to be dead, or gained a second wind… but not this time. No, Howler's hit from above had been just enough. 

Sea Serpents didn’t exactly have the strongest of skulls, it seemed – or perhaps… 

Howler sat down on top of the wavekin, adjusting their wrist. Pipsqueak flapped closer, having kept their distance during the fight. Good, a battlefield was no place for a baby bat, even if Howler would’ve welcomed an ally. 

But the main point was now clear.

They had recovered enough to pull off most of the monk moves, at the very least. Enough to keep them alive, if a fight arose. There was a wry smile under the mask, they placed their flesh hand against the mechanism on their prosthetic arm. The mechanism that allowed them to switch jobs with ease, if it was functioning properly - as it stood right now, they’d have to manually push the plates. 

And right now, it was stuck on the crystal that made it easier to tap into the abilities of a monk.

There was a small sigh, and a gentle smile behind that mask.