Chapter 94 & 95

He charged his Stupenstone for what felt like less than a second and released.

[SPELL CAST: Stupenstone Fling (Rank III)]

The pebble arced even more beautifully than in his training runs with Tommaso. The throwmitts steadied his grip; the angle was clean; the follow-through smooth. Amber sparks followed the pebble like celebratory fireflies. It soared in a gentle rise, then curved downward just the way he had wanted it to be. It must’ve been the best throw he’d ever made.

The first glyphlight lit like a torch.

The second lit like a torch, but brighter.

The third didn’t.

The stone dipped too early, sliding off its line. He scrambled to twist his hand and send it on an upward arc, but it was too late. The stone skidded into the grass just past the second checkpoint.

Above the field, the band of glyphscript read:

“4.8 ARC · 8° deviation · 2 GLY-PASS · no chain”

Ilya took a bite of her baguette, chewed thoughtfully, and called out, “Five points.”

He felt his fingers curl in frustration. His throw was better than Ploosh’s worst; better than his own usual throws. But this was supposed to be a Rank III throw, and that looked nothing like a Rank III skill. He had the mitts on, his Silvian quartz in his pockets, and everything.

It all happened too fast. Even though he only had 12 registered ARC, he knew the unspecified boost from the Silvian quartz would add up to over 15, enough for him to bend the arc of the stone during flight. He’d tried.

“Not bad,” Celine called out from the bench. “At least your pebble didn’t cry on the way down, like your Liene!”

“I’m right here!” Liene yelled.

Fabrisse adjusted the strap on his throwmitt and paced a slow semicircle around the edge of the casting line. His eyes traced the glyphlights, the curvature of the ground, the tall scoring banner waving gently with the breeze. The breeze! I noticed it this time. The wind wasn’t enough to disrupt a heavy throw, but enough to toy with a pebble.

He rolled his next Stupenstone between his fingers. The calibration had to be tighter. His angle had been good, but too passive in the follow-through. He needed a firmer push to keep the pebble from listing under pressure.

He breathed in, visualized the glyphpath, and channeled the charge just below overcast.

This time, when he released it, he knew it was better. His stone moved at a sharp angle, just grazing the optimal arc curve. He even accounted for the breeze with a slight wrist torque on the exit.

The stone flew. It sang.

First glyphlight: lit.

Second glyphlight: brighter.

Third glyphlight . . . swayed by the wind.

The stone dipped, caught a whisper of wind, and veered just two degrees wide. It struck the grass past the target, again, just past the second checkpoint. The board lit:

“4.8 ARC · 6° deviation · 2 GLY-PASS · no chain”

“Curses . . .” He slapped a mitt on his forehead.

“Still five,” Ilya called, tearing off another bite of her baguette.

He stayed crouched, staring at the trail of sparks the pebble left in the air. It had the distance. It just didn’t have the stability.

His ARC — only 12, for this one — wasn’t enough to stabilize the tail end. Even though he had the strength to reach the target, the pebble wobbled near the end like it had lost confidence. His channeling couldn’t maintain the kinetic sheath through the final glyphlight.

Then what went wrong?

[WARNING: Emotional Catalyst Mismatch]

EMO Booster operating at 30% capacity

Detected Emotion: Shame

Recommended Catalyst for this ability: Joy; Rage; Reverent

The realization hit with clarity. He looked up at the field again—the glowing glyphlights, the invisible current of the air, the way sparks trailed behind a stone like it had a dream to chase. To beat this wind, he had to feel real joy.

But how could he evoke joy when he could only think about his last two failed attempts?

“Fabrisse Kestovar. Your final try,” Ilya said, voice carrying over the field. “I’ve called you two times already.”

He blinked. The glyphlights faded from his peripheral vision as he looked up, dazed. He’d been so deep in his own self-reprimanding loops that he hadn’t heard a word.

A flutter of footsteps approached.

“Hey.” Liene jogged up to the casting line, unscrewing the cap on a squat silver flask. “Do you need water? You look like you’re about to pass out from overthinking.”

He reached up mutely, took the flask, and sipped. It was ice-cold and citrusy, exactly what she always packed. It was always something with lemonroot and mint with her. 

“T-thank you,” he muttered. 

She nodded. “If there’s anything—”

Celine called out, “Oh good! Nursemaid Lugano to the rescue. Stand behind him and fix his posture, Liene! You can do it!”

Rinna chimed in from the sidelines. “That’s technically not allowed, Liene! Emotional support’s an unfair advantage!” Anabeth burst out laughing. Ploosh burst out laughing more loudly.

Fabrisse flushed, tapping the side of his satchel exactly four times. He could tell from Liene’s red ears that she was just as embarrassed, and that both of them just wanted to walk right away. But she didn’t step back. Instead, she leaned in slightly and whispered, “What do you need to feel?”

He hesitated. When he spoke, he could barely hear his own voice, “Joy.”

She gave a small nod. “Okay. Then think back to your last happy moment. You were able to cast joy last time, remember? And don’t sweat it too much.” She smiled, quiet but steady. “It’s just a game. You’re doing great.”

Fabrisse glanced over to the gossip girls. Celine fixed her eyes on Fabrisse and grinned when he looked over. Rinna was about to say something too, but Anabeth gave her a nudge and shushed her with a finger to her lips.

“Fabri,” Liene dropped to one knee in front of him. Before he could react, she was already tugging gently at the hem of his sleeve, straightening his cuff and checking the latches on his kinetic mitts with small motions. “Are you feeling nervous?”

“No.”

“You’re tapping your satchel.”

“Oh.” He glanced down. He’d been tapping at the side of his stone pouch for probably far more times than he’d have liked. He didn’t expect Liene to notice it, nor did he expect him to make a connection between his habit and nervousness, however right or wrong it might be. 

She gave him a small shake of her head. “Why did you wear mitts? You always forget to tighten them. If you’re going to add more accessories, you should care about the little things like this.” She fastened the last strap and hesitated for a breath before glancing up at him. “I—I don’t mean it like—I mean. I know you’re trying your best. Just have fun. You’ll feel the right emotion.”

All the girls were quiet now. Fabrisse wasn’t sure if they were watching him or waiting for him, but for once, the silence didn’t feel mocking. It felt like space.

Liene finally stepped aside, her eyes lingering on him for just a second longer than necessary before she backed toward the sidelines.

Fabrisse crouched and reached down to the pebble he had set aside—Gravelkin, the only Stupenstone he’d ever named. Its surface was polished smooth, with a slight seam near the base like a birthmark. 

Maybe a sharper cut could knife through the breeze more cleanly. But it wouldn’t curve. And he needed the curve.

Fabrisse rolled Gravelkin between his palms once, then gripped it firmly in his throwmitt. 

He knew he potentially had one skill, Gravelkin (Rank II), which allowed Gravelkin to mimic simple shapes. This had to be the time to use it.

He opened the Mastery interface.

Earth Thaumaturgy Mastery: 13

Tier 2 – Unlockable with Mastery Points

You can now unlock these:

Stone-Based Thaumaturgy Tier II:

Skill Name

Type

Tags

Mastery Req

Description

Gravelkin (Rank II)

Active

Summon

10 (Earth - Stone)

Upgrades your bonded Gravelkin: now capable of limited mimicry (simple shapes), glows on proximity to conflict.

Path Synergy: Celestial Hoarding Upgraded. Up to 3 stones can grant attribute gains while in your inventory, unequipped.

He had been saving up for later, but this was as good as it could get for him if he were to spend 10 Mastery points on something. Not only would it aid him now, it would allow him to gain the benefit of the Lodestone immediately without having to actually hold it in his hand. If this new unlock allowed him to finish the Arc Pebbles quest, it was like getting an immediate 2 Mastery Points rebate. The upside was too good to pass up.

He pressed his thumb to its surface, closed his eyes, and let the shape of Anabeth’s pebble play through his mind again—the curve, the balance, the way it had flown like it was born to do it. Then he murmured, low under his breath, a line he came up with on the spot:

“Weight to back, edge to air, curve the wind and split it fair.”

[SKILL CAST: Gravelkin (Rank II)]

[Passive Activated: Gravelkin (Rank II)]

Registering New Unequipped Item: Lodestone, Elemental

Effect: Boosts EMO, SYN by 25%. Boosts DEX, INT, STR, RES by 12%

He could feel the aether inside his palm stirring, tickling the surface of his skin. The stone responded—hesitantly at first, then with a faint shimmer along its surface. The shape didn’t lock in perfectly. The curve was a bit too shallow, the back end not as cleanly rounded. But it was close enough.

Then the memory returned, to when he and Liene had managed to cast joy together. Their joint focus had kindled that shared emotion, enough to touch the ritual bowl with their petal offering. Enough to matter. He had believed in himself then, because she had believed in him too. It hadn’t felt like an achievement. It had felt like relief. Like lightness.

He’d sprinted down the hill like a man on fire with laughter, feet barely catching the ground, Dubbie barking madly behind him and never catching up. Wind in his face, voice lost in the air, no shame, no second-guessing.

That feeling. That moment.

His chest lifted. The faintest warmth flickered at the edge of his vision.

[EMO Booster: 84% capacity]

[Detected Emotion: Joy]

[Emotional Alignment Confirmed]

Sky-blue sparks flared.

He threw the stone.

Gravelkin left his hand like it had always belonged to the air.

The sheath held, narrow and honed, precise as a needle gliding through fabric. It curved with the glyphlight’s spiral, not hesitating once, tracing the arc like it had memorized the path. Sky-blue scintillation clung to its tail, arcing out, bright as frost in the morning sun.

It missed the third glyph by a breath, too shallow on the approach. So in awe of the motion was Fabrisse that he’d forgotten to correct the path again. But maybe if he had corrected that path, the curve wouldn’t have been that beautiful.

The score lit up beside the line:

“7.5 ARC · 5.8° deviation · 2 GLY-PASS · no chain”

“And what does that translate to?” He looked at Ilya expectantly. He’d already known. It was more than enough.

Rinna actually let out a quiet, “What?” Even Anabeth couldn’t have managed a curve like that.

Ilya didn’t smile, but her voice carried a distinct upward lilt. “Nine points. Your total is nineteen.” She paused, letting the weight of it land. “Congratulations on second place, Kestovar.”

Ploosh’s jaw dropped. Rinna clicked her tongue and said, “So he does know his stuff.”

Anabeth nodded once and said, “Well. Hardly just a theory man anymore, is he?”

Quest Completed: Impressively Not First

Rewards:

✦ +2 Earth Thaumaturgy Mastery

✦ [Passive Unlocked] — Measured Hand: Slightly increases stability of fine aether manipulations when under observation.

✦ Reputation Shift: “Hmm, maybe he actually knows what he’s doing”

Optional Bonus: Failed

Fabrisse’s fists clenched at his sides, not from tension, but to stop himself from bolting straight toward Liene like a madman. His legs twitched with the urge. His chest buzzed like a spell just barely contained. He grinned despite himself and quickly looked down at his boots, stepping on one foot with the other. Calm down, Kestovar. Just breathe.

Liene hadn’t moved. She stood at the edge of the line with her arms crossed tight, her expression locked somewhere between pride and panic. Her mouth tugged upward, barely, before she cleared her throat and looked away.

[Sparring Completed: + 40 EXP]

[Progress to Level 6: 1567/2750]

[Gravelkin (Rank II)—Progress to Rank III: 2%]

[Emotional Trajectory Shift Detected]
Primary Emotional Catalyst: Shame
Secondary: Joy (Retained – 40% compatibility penalty)

Your spells may now respond to affirming emotional signatures. Positive catalysts grant increased durability and reduced fatigue cost.

Wait. Does that mean . . . I’ve unlocked Joy? Can I consistently cast joy now?

The silence lingered a moment longer before—

“Wait, what’s the prize again?” Anabeth asked, already strolling toward Ilya with her usual poise.

Ilya reached into the crook of her arm and pulled out a third baguette.

Anabeth blinked. “That one’s bitten.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Do you want it?”

Anabeth stared at the bread, then at Ilya, then back at the bread. “. . . No thanks.”

Celine burst out laughing from the sidelines. “Best second-place drama ever. We all know this one’s going in the records.”

Fabrisse took half a step toward the edge of the field—just enough to signal polite retreat—but Celine was already on him.

“Whoa whoa whoa, where do you think you’re going?” she said, cutting him off with a gleam in her eyes.

Ploosh and Anabeth flanked the sides like they’d rehearsed it.

“Second-place reward,” Anabeth said with mock gravity, “is a free lunch on us. That’s the rule.”

“You made that rule up just now,” he said, bewildered.

“Yup,” said Celine. “It’s binding.”

“I—I have to log my cast notes—”

“Your logs can wait,” said Ploosh. “This is way more important.”

Rinna had already wandered off, muttering something about needing to make her ten-minute appearance in Theory & Application before anyone took attendance. But the rest of the girls were grinning like they were … hunters and he was a deer caught in a trap.

He turned to Liene, the only person who might save him. She stood a little outside the circle, hands awkwardly behind her back, clearly trying to act like she wasn’t part of this.

She met his eyes and mouthed silently: I'll get us out of here. Don’t worry.

And that’s when it hit him.

They weren’t even that into Arc Pebbles. It would’ve been obvious by now, because they weren’t offered a free skill and two Mastery Points.

He had been the only one taking this seriously.

They were just here to watch him get roped into shenanigans.

Fabrisse closed his eyes and sighed. “. . . Fine,” he said.

“Great choice!” Celine called, grabbing him by the elbow. And so, second-place baguette-less but surrounded, Fabrisse was led off the field—not as a loser, and not quite a winner either.

Just a guy with a very good curve, and some very strange friends.