Magic Breaker Ch 97-99

Chapter 97: Lively town

The town was strange. Maneuvering it was a constant exercise in attention, with bridges made from rope and wood camouflaged with leaves cutting through the canopy, connecting different houses together. There were inns and guild halls, little connections between humans, and a much more diverse cast than on the third floor.

As seemed to be typical of cities, we also had someone’s Eye on us. This little place seemed under the purview of the Verdant Grove’s Mistress. Something we also swiftly notice is that species diversity has gone up a lot since the tunnels. 

Ascendancy wells across the floor tend to be a little jumbled, so things get more chaotic the higher up you climb. On the third floor, that effect is showing, especially since it’s a place with a lot of intelligent wildlife, some of whom live in the town, or adjacent to it. We see a few birds, packed with backpacks and funny goggles, one street food stall hanging halfway in the air, carried and tended to by a flock of hand-sized butterflies, and there are aphids spinning sugary treats in a few places.

It’s very alive. Enough to make Jess and Inu crack small smiles at the crowd, enough that Sylves stops every few steps, floating off a little and wondering about a new leaf or tree. She gets her finger bitten by a slightly hungry plant-person who promptly apologizes and states it as a reflex. 

There are people literally all around us. Above, below, to all sides, and I can see the way it comes in on our group, the way some want to reach out and interact, and others shrink in on themselves. It’s a little funny. Gently, I activate [Suppression] on the noise. Instantly, the lively city calms down a little more.

I can hear the way that Thatch asks a large pillbug for directions, and then takes the lead to a somewhat newly opened inn. Apparently, climbers have come by here recently, stopping for a little while before continuing their ascent. Running a pop-up-inn to make some money? How curious.

We walk in, letting the wooden door fall behind us, shutting out the bustling noise of the canopy. It was never exactly loud, but it was very bright and a constant low chittering. Apparently, that kind of background humming usually didn’t attract predators, but singular, loud noises did.

My thoughts focused on the person behind the counter. It was an older man, one that I recognized immediately. The [Archon of the Bathtub], whose inn got trashed in our escape from Espiree on the first floor. He looks at us. I look at him. His eyes drift to my missing arm.

“Souvenir?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, I killed Philia without too much trouble. This happened in an ascension well.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Name’s Harry.”

“Ion,” I reply.

He smiles a little, behind that beard. “I know that one, brat. Your real name. The one friends call you.”

“Are we friends?” I ask.

“I’ll give you a magic item if you tell me,” he promises.

“Snow,” I reply, without hesitation. 

Laughing behind his beard, he tosses me a wet rag of cloth. “Bahaha! Here. It’s something I got to help with my job. Give it a look.”

I do as asked, inspecting the tool. [Observation] brushes against the rag, and I spot a dozen tiny runic inscriptions. Instantly, the tower feeds me a trickle of information about the item, as if its description was somehow woven into it.

Huh. That must be something higher level crafters could do, huh? How fun. I should learn that.

Disregarding that thought, though, I focus on what the item is telling me about its function. A small runic array about killing bacteria. Another tone to dispel dust using some kind of disintegration magic, which makes it good at both cleaning, or, when fed with more mana, polishing a surface.

It’s an incredibly tiny application of incredibly destructive magic, in a way that I’m instantly curious about. Could I apply this sort of targeted, low-level instant-kill disinfection magic inside someone’s body? Mess up their immune system entirely? Scary.

But at the end of the day, it is just a rag made for cleaning. Now, it does that job incredibly well, with different mana amounts for disinfection, polishing, dusting, and so on. I like it. I hate when there’s something on my skin, and this will help with that. We’ve been upgrading our water-generating items so that we could wash properly, but this was very nice.

“Thank you,” I say. “I didn’t expect cleaning to be so adjacent to murder.”

Harry grins, tilting his head. “Oh?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

“Well, getting rid of bacteria is basically killing small things. And to get rid of dust, this… what, does it transform it into mana or something? Is it full scale matter transmutation?” I ask, eyes widening a little.

“Sure is,” he says. “Terrifyingly complicated spell for any person to make, but surprisingly cheap to buy from the tower in smaller applications.”

Ah. The rag is purchased from the tower then. But it definitely has been modified by a person… “Did you mess with the enchantment yourself?”

Harry’s grin widens, showing his teeth. His wings clink a little. “I did,” he says. And that’s all he says, providing no additional information. How curious. Does he want me to figure it out myself? 

With the conversation having ebbed off, I lightly tap Thatch, informing him that it’s his turn to talk. He gives me a confused look then smiles slightly, and nods. “We’d like to buy room and board for a week, if possible,” he says.

The negotiation starts and I tune them out, focusing on the cleaning rag in my hand. The essence from the beasts on the second floor whispers into my brains about how it might interact with anatomy, which is interesting. The enchantments are woven into the cloth, too, in a fascinatingly intricate display of skill.

Once again, the tower so easily made an item that seems absolutely incredible to me. Putting this on a shirt could mean that I might have it be clean forever. Compare that with some self-repair…

I could wear the same shirt for the rest of my life.

“Is it just me or are Snow’s eyes sparkling a bit?” Opal asks.

“Not just you,” Inu says with a soft sigh. “That’s that dangerous expression.”

Yeah. I’ll learn to make something like this, too. 

“Aaaaand bleeding from the eyes again,” Sylves shakes her head. “Silly Snow.”

I’ll learn.

Chapter 98: Downtime

An old scithian with amber wings steps through the ascension well up to the third floor. He has hair that is cropped short, and a well maintained beard. His yellow eyes are hard and piercing, his mouth set into a frown, with wrinkles that have etched themselves into his face over decades of misery.

Then, very slowly, he tilts his head upwards, looking at the eyes in the sky. 

[Respitia the Pure tolerates your ascension.]

With the speed of a tired snail, a smile spread across the man’s lips. “Yeah,” he chuckled to himself. “Tolerates. That certainly works.”

Finally, his exile was over. He breathed in the air, smelling how different it was from the second floor. Ten fucking years in that hellhole. Ten years travelling, getting hit by bits of the storm, and now, sent like a hunting dog after some rookie.

But.

It would let him work off his debt. He’d failed last floor - really, Ion was something else - but he got another chance. He’d even been promised a team. A team! Hah.

He would thank the rookie if he had the chance. Sadly, that’d need to wait until he was putting the young one in an early grave. But that was fine. 

Amber wings softly chimed in the wind as he enjoyed the sunlight on his face. It was so much brighter here than on the second floor. He had months to look forward to where he wouldn’t starve. There was even a chance he would be permanently forgiven for any crime if he managed this.

Ahhh, his crime. The smile on his face widened, thinking of what had gotten him banished. It was funny, wasn’t it? Ten years of misery, ten years of doom and occasional starvation, ten years of freezing his wings off in that shithole floor. 

And he’d do the same thing again.

Someone bumped into him, coming out of the ascendancy well.

“Hey, ow, watch where you’re standing, old man,” the young climber chided.

“Right, right,” he said, stepping forward onto the third floor. The leaves crackled wonderfully under his feet. He was in such a good mood, he wouldn’t even kill the idiot who’d smacked into him.

“Asshat,” the young climber said.

Sighing, the old man turned around. “Shhh. I’m having a nice day,” he said. “Don’t ruin it for me.” Then, slowly, he reached out, took the young one’s hand, and pulled it off his body at the wrist. There was no sound. No scream. Not even a wound. Just a clean pop as it came off.

Then the limb vanished, crumpling in on itself, as if sucked into a tiny black hole. 

Letting the young climber stare in shock at the lost limb, the old man with amber wings simply stepped forward. He closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle sound of the leaves crunching beneath his bare feet. He wore a long, silken robe, now, having changed back into a somewhat priestly garb.

After all, he was a priest of Respitia. He sneered at the notion. Technically true, but also, so very false. Sighing softly, he walked more. 

Today, just for a day, he wouldn’t indulge the bad memories. Today, just for a day, he’d hunt again. After all, that was who he was. Ezekiel Thorn, avatar of Respitia, descender, and the [Bright Priest of the Hunt].

He licked his lips. Freedom tasted delectable. The screaming behind him hardly registered to his ears.

- - -

PoV: Snow Okiyama - Ion

There is so much to do.

I love magic. That is the most accurate statement I can make to summarize my feelings about magic. I love it. The way mana flows, and lets me control it is so… convenient. The way I can use it to become just about self-sufficient. 

The ability to mess with my senses has been incredible. The thought of making clothing that’s comfortable and never breaks is amazing. I love magic. Taking it apart, learning it feels so incredibly fun. 

For the first time in ages I feel the way I did when I first heard music. The way the notes flowed together, the different instruments harmonizing and going into dissonance, the way they followed the beat. It was so sophisticated, and I wanted to learn it, too, so I took it apart.

And now, magic is that same way. There are underlying rules, and those rules are meant to be broken sometimes. Arcane runes, chants, hymns… I want to know all of them. There is something so very special about it.

Which means that deciding what to focus on is the hardest.

I want to improve my enchanting, for the sake of convenience. It has already improved my daily life. No more trips to a sink when I have a refilling water flask. No more being hot or cold when I can make items to regulate temperature. It’s wonderful - but it’s also, tragically, unnecessary.

My power lies in blocking others’ access to their skill. Breaking their builds, finding the keystones of the patterns their magic took, and then dismantling them. Slowing people down and picking them apart, bit by bit, that was my greatest strength. But it was also rigid, and could be countered.

Of course, I could work on countering those counters. Or on making myself more robust. Regrowing my arm would make enchanting easier, so maybe I should focus on healing, instead. But that’s time consuming and mana-intensive. I have so much my vessel is almost overflowing, but I still want to spend it effectively.

What I need is the thing I’ve been working on for so long. The ability to start building a lexicon. I know a handful of runes, a handful of patterns, and the booklet I’ve bought from the tower is full of sketches by now. Images of other abilities I’ve broken and tried to put down. 

I’ve gotten a little rusty at art, but they are still nice. And yet, they aren’t enough. I can’t create perfectly accurate images of parts of three-dimensional patterns after only seeing them once. I just can’t. I need something better.

So, I've been working on a skill. For over a month now, and it’s still not done. I’ve analysed Inu’s [Reservoir], Bay’s [Part Storage], Thatch’s [Channel], Opal’s [Echo]... They all had bits and pieces I wanted to use, but combining them was hard. A trial and error type thing, where each mistake meant pretty significant backlash.

Since we got to the third floor, we’ve been restocking. Bought more items, gotten a picture of how things worked around here, and geared up for a reasonable expedition - or a fight. After all, we are expecting to get in trouble with the guild. There’s simply no way around it.

But that’s what the others have been doing. For that entire time, I’ve been sitting in my room like the leech I am, emptying my vessel in experimentation and hurting my brain. The skill feels so tantalizingly close and yet so far away. I sigh, pushing myself up from the floor, pulling off my headphones, and running my arm through my hair.

It’s sticky with dried bits of blood. I can feel the sticky red on my face. I’ve been bleeding again from pushing myself too hard. Sighing softly, I head down the stairs of the inn, to where Harry stood behind the bar.

Watching him polish a glass in a single motion of his hand was fascinating. He turned to look at me as he heard the footsteps, and gave a crooked smile. “Damn, Snow. You look like hell.”

“Could you prepare the bath for me?” I ask. We’ve paid enough chits for it. There’s a couple of the wonderfully smooth coins in my pockets, and I run a finger across them, enjoying the sensation of rounded metal on my skin. Those were earned mostly by selling the products we made from our jobs.

Harry nods. “Sure thing,” he says, and the [Archon of the Bathtub] heads into a backroom through a door with a bathtub on it. I follow quietly, ignoring the bits of noise in the inn as Mike, his husband, moves to serve food to customers.

The inn is bigger inside than it should be. There’s runes on the walls, so it’s not surprising, but it is notable. They’re so tiny it took me days to even spot them. Now, though, I notice them everywhere.

In front of me, Harry moves his hand over a smooth, stone spring filled with water. It’s artificial, set into the wooden floor of the inn, but equally covered with the runes. The hot-spring style tub is made from one single, solid piece of stone. Some fancy rock, I’m sure, though I can’t tell what kind. Opal would know more.

With a single, smooth motion, Harry waves his hand. I feel his mana spill forth, twist and bend and wind into a dozen effects, and then infuse into the pool. Instantly, it clears up. There’s a pleasant smell, a little like citrus fruit, and the water almost sparkles. “No foam,” he adds. “As usual.”

I nod, then walk into the bath, with my clothes on. I don’t really care if they get soaked, since they’re bloodstained and need to be washed, anyway. As per the usual, Harry gives me a bit of a confused look, then shakes his head. “I’ll be back to dry you off?”

Again, I nod at him, and he walks out of the room. I sink into the water. The fabric clings to my skin, and I [Suppress] my sense of touch. Suddenly, all the annoyance I felt at it is endlessly softened.

There’s something wonderful about disconnecting from the world that way. I close my eyes, too. The room is quiet. For just a little bit, I feel like there’s nothing outside of me and my own thoughts.

So, I think. As always, my thoughts move forward at their consistent, monotone pace. We’ve been resting for a few days now, and it was about time we got moving again, I think. Everyone has been a little less on edge, being allowed to relax, and buy some “luxuries”. Thatch got himself a set of paintbrushes, for example, and Opal has started collecting gemstones in a box again.

My teammates have their silly antics, and I have mine, after all.

But there is something I think about. The divide between my identities in the system. To my friends, I am Snow. To most of the world, they know Ion. The stormbreaker, the one hated by Respitia, the monster rookie. Except, everyone in the world knows that Ion is missing a patch of skin, having a bit of skull exposed.

And, well, of course I have that, too. Except, of course, I can hide that.

Smiling faintly, I think of my next trick to pull. This one could be a lot of fun. Quietly, in the almost-silent bathhouse, accompanied only by the sound of flowing water, I turn to my shadow. “Hey, Kuro?” I ask, and the inky critter perks up. “Can you manifest into a piece of clothing?”

As if to answer the question, the shadows underneath me swirl for a moment. Inky darkness creeps up my leg, over my hips, up the side of my chest, and settles on my shoulder. From there, Kuro unfurls. 

Before, they’ve turned into a centipede or other animals, but this is the first time they turn into something akin to clothing. Stygian darkness slithers up the side of my neck, then peels itself off, weaving into thin air. I can tell that the little critter is cycling through ideas for my outfit, and I smile quietly as they work through a few shapes.

In the end, kuro weaves into a chitinous shawl across my neck that unfurls into a short cape behind my back. And, of course, it rises high enough on the side of my face to hide the bit of my skull that pokes out from my skin. I tap my fingers against the shadowy material and hear it click like chitin against my nails. Smiling softly, I nod.

Maybe, eventually, I can get Kuro to just cover my entire face? Then no one would tell me to smile more. How wonderful would that be.

For now, though, I was just happy to maintain my anonymity as Snow. Even if it was kind of funny that I would be wearing a mask when using my personal name, instead of when I used the anonymous one. Ah, well. Such is life.

Now that none of the actions can be traced back to me, maybe it’s time to cause more trouble. Probably.

Surely.

Chapter 99: Preparations

Harry looks at me with a confused expression. “Snow. Where’d the…” he gestured vaguely at my neck, “thing come from?” he asks.

I smile faintly. “That’s Kuro,” I say. “Back on floor zero, they burrowed under my skin and tried to eat me from the inside out. Then I stabbed them. Now, we’re friends.” 

The older man looks at me for a long moment, scratching his beard. The crystals of his wings tinkle against one another as he contemplates. “Right,” he says slowly. “You understand that this is an avatar, yes?”

“Sure,” I reply.

“And that it may bring trouble to flaunt it so openly?” he asks.

Gently, my smile fades. “Sure,” I say. If Kuro causes trouble, then I’ll take care of it. “I’ll make people think I’m a shadow mage, or something,” I say, easily.

Harry sighs, softly. “And, somehow, this will still be less conspicuous than how you usually look,” he says. “Right, right.”

“Now, will you dry me off, or should I walk around your establishment entirely soaked?” I ask. The wet clothes cling to my skin.

“Ah!” the old man quickly splutters, face turning the faintest shade of red as he looks away and waves his hand. The water is “cleaned” off of me. Droplets scatter to the ground, slowly flowing back into the pool. Bits of dried blood are in the clean water, but they dissolve, too.

The whole spring is enchanted with cleaning magic. Tiny disintegration runes that break and eradicate things at a molecular level. It’s wonderful, watching them work, and Harry can easily speed up the process if he tries to.

Mike, the chef, laughs at his husband. “Bahaha! Always in your own head, huh? No wonder I had to propose before you knew we were dating,” he mocked. The zoof rarely poked his head out of the kitchen, usually only to banter or deliver food. Whenever he did, the plates would simply hover in the air around him.

I suspect that he has some kind of class related to telekinesis. One of the two must also be rather good at enchanting, and I’d place my bet on Harry. There was something about his hands that made me think he would have no trouble carving even into stone.

“Hey, Snow,” the chef turns to me. “Hungry?” 

“Yes,” I reply.

“Want a meal?”

“Yes.”

With another wink, the fluffy ball of fur disappears back into the kitchen. I don’t know how he manages to make the food without any hair falling into it, but there’s not been a single one in any of the meals I’ve eaten. And they’re very delicious.

Richard has pestered him into teaching her many, many times over, but the older man simply turned her away with a laugh. He refuses to let anyone else inside the kitchen. It’s his sanctuary. I find something of a kindred spirit in that.

Instead of causing more trouble, I simply sit down on one of the free chairs, adjusting the black scarf around my neck. With the long-sleeved shirt I got, I only need a long hoodie and maybe a pair of gloves to hide all my skin. Finding comfortable gloves is almost impossible, though. I sigh. Hopefully, Sylves and Amelie can make something soon.

After a little bit, I eat a meal that’s typical for the third floor - very heavy in greens. A little bit later, I’ve poured half my vessel into healing, since it was starting to hurt again, and move out.

The light from the three suns is bright, so I suppress my eyesight just a little, until it’s back to a tolerable level. It feels hot against my skin, but since I’m mostly covered, I can deal with it. My clothes are all lighter tones than usual, so it’s not too hot. Also, they’re lightly enchanted, which helps.

[Inscription 11 > 12]

I take a walk across the canopy. The sound of the leaves under my shoes is pleasant. They rustle and crunch ever so faintly, in a way that drowns out a lot of the random noise that tries to come my way. 

A few people steal glances my way, and I even feel a little bit of mana try to brush up against me, but I quickly take the small probe apart. It wasn’t made by anyone particularly skillful, so it’s not too difficult. I take a deep breath of the fresh air.

Above me, a flare flitters across the sky, and I walk alongside bridges woven from greenery and bits of wood. There’s a few destinations I could be headed to, but only one I’m actually walking towards. The woodlands guild.

It’s a large, wooden building, with doorways far taller than any human would ever need. Every part of it is made to be sturdy, made to last. The building sits proudly on the canopy, not at all camoflagued like so many other places. 

I sit down in the leaves near it, drawing the shadow-chitin shawl a bit higher, until it covers up to my nose. Then, cross my legs, and close my eyes, as if meditating. Climbers do all sorts of weird stuff, all the time, amusingly, so this doesn’t even get much attention.

Just nearby there are people arguing, people shopping, people eating on blankets spread across the green leaves, people practicing their skills, all in broad daylight. There is bustling activity.

Slowly, I place my headphones on my head, and activate my skills. I reach out, as I always do. Past the enchanted walls, made to be sturdy. Sneaking under people’s scans for foreign mana.

[Observation 6 > 7]

I find the little traps, and avoid them. My stream of dull grey [Selection] slowly wanders through the filled halls, slithering forward until I find a suitable target. Someone of reasonable renown in the guild, someone who’s not a minotaur and is collecting money from the proud, horned beasts.

Not someone too high up, though. Not someone more powerful than I can afford.

Almost invisible, my tether latches on. So thin that it doesn’t even tell me the name of his class. I thin it even more, until the thread of mana tying us together is no thicker than a hair.

[Selection 15 > 16]

It’s not the first time I’m doing this. It won’t be the last time either. 

Very gently, I reach into the box of tricks contained in [Deconstruction]. I pull out tiny tools, made to whittle away at someone. The most delicate instruments I can find. Then I get to work.

As I did with the mayor before, I shave away at the guild member’s class. Tiny packets of power course across that tether, dealing microscopic bits of damage to him, feeding the information back to me.

My Abiding Apathy devours the power, fueling my vessel. I take another thin shaving, experimenting with my skill. Trying out different ways to hide it, as Kuro cloaks me in an aura of obscurity. No one pays me any mind. Every other climber simply passes me by. Stealth enchantments, derived from Norman’s skills, carved on the inside of tiny rings, flicker into activation.

[Job up! Imbuer 3 > 4]

Silently, with no one to watch, I sabotage my enemies. Bits and pieces of skills, miniscule fragments of class knowledge, all of it flows across that link. I breathe it in, slowly, letting it feed my understanding, finding keystones of the class.

[Deconstruction 11 > 12]

[Class up! Nullmage 5 > 7]

It’s tiny. In and of itself, each cast of the skill does almost nothing. And yet, I learn. How to do things sneakily, how to hide the damage from the people using the class. I destabilize things, I make it all the more fragile, and I build a catalogue. I learn and prepare, so that when the time comes to fight…

I can break them, too.

- - -

Eventually, my mana reached a quarter of what I can hold. Slowly, I open my eyes, take off my headphones, and disconnect the tether. I stretch a bit, then walk back to the inn. Only there do I disable the rings.

We all have our parts to play. Mine is training, and undermining our enemies. So I do just that. In the inn, I sit in my room and experiment with the memory skill again. I bleed a little, but now that Kuro is so close to my face, the critter simply devours the blood. Time passes, bit by bit, and in the evening, Opal walks into my room.

They look around, grinning brightly, and then find me. Instantly, their expression freezes. “Holy shit,” they mutter. “That’s… so cool.”

“Huh?” I ask.

A moment later, they blink to my side. “Snow,” they say. “That’s so edgy. Like, the edgiest. And yet, you pull it off so well! You have no right to look this good!!” they say, grinning brightly. “The half-mask style really suits you! And dang, the cape!”

I look at Opal for a long moment. “Oh,” I say, realizing they mean Kuro’s shawl-form. “Thanks?”

Smiling, the enby sits down next to me, laying down sideways on the bed. “I mean it.”

“Of course you do,” I say. “I really did expect you to tease me for the edginess more.”

They nod. “Reasonable assumption to make. But nah. I’m in a good mood.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“We’ve found our minotaur guide,” they reply, giving me a sly smile. “Unlicensed from the guild.”

My eyes glitter, just a little. Now they have my attention. Sounds like it’s finally time for an expedition into the undergrowth. I can’t wait to see what’s down there.