Judge took out his shortsword with a dramatic pose, as if he were about to face down a dragon... or in this case, a giant bird. The titanium blade sparked in the moonlight, and for a split second, he almost felt like a hero. Almost.
In reality, he was about to face a very large, very angry bird.
He leaned forward in what he imagined was an impressive stance, ready to face his feathery doom. He wasn't going to die here, not in the middle of this forest where his grand plan of world domination had taken a sharp detour.
"Alright, you overgrown chicken, let's dance," he muttered under his breath, trying to motivate himself up. Sure, in his previous life, he used a sword as a medium for magic, and yeah, he knew some swordplay. But "knew" was doing a lot of heavy lifting here.
His sword skills were about as formidable as a beginner's knitting class, since using it as a medium for magic and actually using it was entirely different. His actual sword skills? Rustier than the hinges on a forgotten gate. But hey, confidence is half the battle, right? Right?
The bird, however, did not seem impressed by his posturing. It let out a low screech, flaring its wings dramatically. Each wing was larger than Judge's entire body. "Okay... this is fine. I just need to aim for the—" The bird cut him off with another screech, as if to say, "You talk too much."
"Noted," Judge whispered, gripping his sword tighter, his hands sweaty under the mask. "Alright, sword. It's just you and me. I hope you still remember how to do... anything."
And then, they both stopped, staring at each other. Judge blinked. The bird blinked. "Uh, are we supposed to, like, fight now? Or...?" Judge stammered, feeling extremely awkward.
The bird turned its head to the side, almost confused. "Okay, here goes nothing!" Judge leaped forward in what he thought was a very graceful attack. It wasn't. He tripped over a rock and nearly TPE face-planted into the dirt, but somehow—by some miracle—he managed to swipe his sword through the air toward the bird. His sword slashed wildly through the air, completely missing the bird.
The bird hopped backward, watching Judge flail like a child trying to swordfight with a pool noodle, looking down at him with what could only be described as birdy disdain. It blinked once.
The sheer size difference between them made the whole scene even more ridiculous. The bird was gigantic, towering over him, and Judge was... well, a slightly bigger baby in an adult clone body. Not exactly heroic.
"Alright, Plan B!" Judge shouted, straightening up and trying to ignore how much dirt was now on his suit. He pointed his sword at the bird dramatically, trying to focus his ether. "Let's see if I can still do a magic trick or two."
He concentrated, and the ether buzzed through him like an over-caffeinated hummingbird. He swung his sword in a wide arc, hoping to release a wave of energy that would at least startle the bird. Instead, what came out was more of a fizzle than a flash—a tiny, unimpressive spark... No, calling that a spark was a humiliation for other sparks.
The bird blinked again, clearly unimpressed. Judge blinked again. "Well, that's embarrassing," he muttered, staring at the sword in disbelief. "You had one job!"
The bird took a step forward, apparently deciding it had had enough of this comedy show. Judge's eyes widened as the bird lunged, its beak aimed directly at him. He dodged to the side with a squeak that was definitely not dignified.
Panic surged through him now. This wasn't a joke anymore. This bird could kill him. The stakes were suddenly very real, and the idea of dying in a forest, at the beak of a giant bird, wasn't how Judge pictured his grand quest ending.
"Why do they never teach you how to fight birds in sword school?" he grumbled, swinging his blade again. This time, the sword caught a feather, just one, plucking it free.
"HA! Take that!" he shouted triumphantly, holding the feather like a trophy. The bird, now very, very angry, let out a low-pitched screech and flapped its massive wings, creating a gust of wind that knocked Judge off his feet. He landed flat on his back with a grunt.
"Great. Now I'm a feather-collecting idiot," he groaned, staring up at the dark sky.
Just as the bird prepared to peck him into oblivion, something deep inside him stirred. The faint glow of ether flickered at the edge of his vision. It pulsed, stronger this time. His sword began to glow faintly. "Oh, NOW you decide to work?!" he shouted at the sword, before swinging it wildly, releasing ether by using the sword as a medium. Not the intended use for ether, but if it works, it works.
A burst of ether shot out from the blade, hitting the bird square in the chest. The bird squawked, clearly more startled than hurt, and flapped its wings furiously. In a flurry of feathers and angry screeches, it took off into the night sky, leaving Judge alone by the waterfall, panting.
"I did it," he breathed, lying in the dirt. "I fought a bird. And I won. Sort of."
After catching his breath, Judge stood up and dusted himself off. His suit was now officially ruined. "Well, there goes my tailor's deposit," he muttered, but he couldn't help feeling a small sense of accomplishment. He'd survived.
And then he saw it—a faint glow emanating from behind the waterfall. Curious (and with nothing better to do), Judge walked toward the source of the light. Behind the waterfall, nestled within the rocks, was a shimmering pool of liquid ether, swirling with a bright glow.
"Is that… an Ether Well?" Judge whispered, eyes wide. "So that's why I got my ether back! And here I was regretting not taking plot armor." He had never seen one in person before, well... since he never actually left the house until today. He had heard the elf tutor talk about it just this morning.
Ether Wells were natural reserves of concentrated ether, formed in hidden places around the world due to the flow of underground ether, and all of the cities were formed around large ether wells. Large as in, comparing this etherwell and an etherwell that ran a city was like comparing a puddle with a big reservoir.
They were the main source of power in the steampunk setting, well it was more like etherpunk but who cares?
Without thinking twice, Judge leaned over the pool and dipped his hand into the shimmering liquid. Instantly, a surge of energy rushed through his soul, refilling his drained ether reserves in an instant, and possibly increasing it, though slightly.
"Oh yeah, that's the good stuff," he said, grinning from ear to ear. He felt like he'd just had the best cup of coffee in existence. "Now, we're talking."
Feeling invincible once more, Judge stood up straight, cracked his neck, and focused on returning to the Studio. "Alright, clone-me, time to switch back." With a snap of his fingers, the ether hummed around him, and in a blink, he was back in his throne, in his baby form.
He was never more happy to be a baby again, and since he got his body back, decided to head back to sleep. Feeling refreshed he exited the studio, getting the sensational feeling of being inside his crib.
"All in a day's work," he mumbled, before immediately passing out into the deepest sleep he'd had in a long, long time.