Magic Breaker Ch 94-96

Chapter 94: Shadow Bracelet

A lot.

What I learn is a lot. 

The first tidbit is that I don’t get hungry. Something about this space makes it so I don’t need too many calories, mostly supplemented by my [Restoration] spell. It’s weird in the way that it ticks - when fixing wounds it consumes calories, but when there are no wounds to be addressed, it seems to supplement them? What a flexible working. I should praise whoever designed it.

But that is not where most of my improvement comes from.

I don’t see many skill levels, in fact, it’s just one. 

[Observation 6 > 7]

That’s the only concrete level. My vessel is overflowing with mana, and the pain decreases slightly as time goes on. It’s a weird thing, feeling it fade when there is still just enough mana, but when I check my stat screen, I see that my heart has grown by another two points at the end of the week, which is nice. Free stats are always lovely. 

What the system does not record is Kuro’s growth, and the understanding that has blossomed between us. I reach out, gently touching the thread of shadow between us. It’s funny, the way essence works, really.

I was granted knowledge - or, well, a talent, really - for weaving moonlight by the silver lake. Now, here I am, twisting that ability. Kuro draws a thread of shadow from the gloom that suffuses this glum city, and under the watchful Eye of the Creeping Darkness, I weave it into the band. 

There’s a bracelet of threads hanging from my wrist. It’s a little wide, sitting loose, and its touch is so faint I can hardly feel it if I don’t focus on it. Which is wonderful. But what it does is enhance my connection to Kuro. 

By now, I can intuit their emotions and gestures a lot better. They resonate with the bracelet, and some kind of bond we have forged. The critter is attached to me, and seems to quite like me, too. Sometimes, they walk around as a squishy centipede, and other times as a blob of tendrils. It’s kind of cute, seeing them shift and experiment with their body.

We practiced interweaving our skills, too. I deconstructed theirs a hundred times over, and fed them mana from my overflowing vessel. That is another benefit of the bracelet; it easily lets my power flow down that shadowy tendril and into my companion. 

And yet, we are not quite done.

Oh, sure, the bracelet is, but there are still a few minutes left in this gloomy place. Which means, there is one more thing I need to do. Slowly, I take a deep breath.

“Hey, Creeping Darkness?” I ask, quietly. It’s among the very few words I’ve spoken in this time, so the Eye snaps to me, showing its attention. I know it’s watching. So, I have a request. “Could you close your Eye for a bit?”

There’s a pause. With my upgraded [Observation] I think there might be a tremor in its pupil. But that’s okay. I just wait. This is its choice to make. And so I leave it to make that choice.

[The Creeping Darkness inquires as to the purpose. It wants to ensure that Kuro won’t be harmed.]

I nod. That’s a reasonable concern, though it’s also incredibly insulting. It makes me reconsider this next step. It makes me bristle and want to grow vines. But I do my best to let it pass, and simply take another deep breath.

“You’ll have to trust me,” I say. “That’s my requirement.”

Of course, if it were any other Eye, I’d have no business negotiating. They’d want to smite me down the second I got mouthy, and yet, this strange critter has observed me play and practice with my shadowy friend for a while, now. So, I can see it listening. The Eye seems like a bit of a sentimental creature, after all.

Slowly, the seconds trickle by. Until there’s only a minute left in the trial.

And then, ever so slowly, the sky changes. I see the dark firmament closing around the eye, the space itself stitching together. Its lids slowly grow closer, then shut entirely, and for the first time since the end of the world, I am unobserved. Just me and Kuro.

Slowly, a smile spreads across my face. After all, the Darkness has decided to trust me. The same kind of unexplained trust that my friends have shown me.

I started with two skills. [Suppression] and [Selection]. Those two dictate who I am as a person. And they came with their intended uses, ones I was incredibly aware of. Slowly, I take a breath.

Then, with thirty seconds left, I activate [Selection]

For the first time since the end of the world, I use the skill for one of its intended uses. I use it for the thing that meant it was granted to me.

[Selection] wraps around Kuro, around this shadow critter I have only known for a few months now, and yet, it has never betrayed me. Animals are easy like that. Trustworthy, and open. They don’t lie, they’re honest, and so, Kuro deserves it.

I select them as a friend.

[Selection 11 > 15]

The use changes the skill profoundly. It’s like finally using a fork to eat after trying to stab someone to death with it for months. The intended usage passes over me, and burrows inside the Abiding Apathy. My skill acknowledges my choice, and I look at Kuro, at my new friend.

From my shadow, two big eyes look back at me. Cute, friendly, entirely trusting. Willing to go full on ride or die with me.

I smile. “You and me, buddy. Let’s show this tower what we’re made of.”

[Challenge completed. Ascend.]

And then, the trial ends, and I appear on the third floor.

Chapter 95: Canopy Counselling

The third floor hits me with a wave of humidity. The ground below is soft and spongy, giving whenever I step on it, but still able to support my weight. It seems to be made up of… leaves?

Sylves is floating above it, eyeing them with curiosity, poking at the ground. Richard is stuffing a few handfuls into her mouth. I look around, seeing that the elevation changes, but the entire ground seems to be made from the greens. There are many constructs made from dark wood; scattered houses built into the formations.

That’s when it clicks. I’m walking on top of a canopy. There’s a forest below - one that’s so dense that the leaves are enough to hold my weight. The trees must be titanic. Ancient, too. And just a few steps next to me, Richard is devouring some.

I get so stunned that I almost miss when someone stumbles out of the ascendancy well. It’s a young woman, bloodied and bruised, who almost crashes into me, but Kuro quickly deflects her with a shadowy barrier, making her stumble off to the side. Mentally, I think them for preventing my shirt from getting bloody.

That’s an inside thought that I don’t voice, though. Instead, I quickly flick my eyes across the notification. 

[Congratulations!]

[You have made it to the third floor! For your performance in the ascendancy well, you have acquired 2 minor requests.]

I quickly tuck that knowledge aside, and kneel down to the injured woman. Her eyes are barely open, and her heart is hammering so fast that it’s getting on my nerves. I [Select] her as a target for my healing skill, then pump a quarter of my mana into it.

Instantly, the golden-white mist seeps into her, clinging to the wounds. The glow crawls over bits of torn and broken skin, mending it. Scrapes disappear, gashes crust over. The lingering effect clings, speeding up the natural healing and making sure the skin is healthy and flexible as it regrows. I smile at the improvements I’ve made to the skill. 

The woman’s eye flicker open, and she turns to me. Instantly, that gaze narrows in distrust. A frown creases her dark lips, and she brushes her wiry black hair back with a motion of her hand. “Who’re you?” she asks.

“Your healer,” I reply. “That’ll be one minor request.”

She stares, and her frown deepens. “I woulda been fine,” she says, grumpily.

I shake my head. “You probably would’ve bled out. Maybe lured some big predator from the undergrowth and gotten eaten.”

At that, she frowns even more. “I ain’t paying you shit, fucker. Not giving you the favour I just earned from the tower.” The crystalline wings behind her flare, and I note that she’s scythian.

“Shame,” I say, as a dagger of mana manifests in my hand. It glows with a grey tint, imbued with a haze of suppression that I experimentally slapped on. “Time to put you back to how I found you, then.”

Sylves pats my shoulder. The one with my missing arm. “Ion,” she says gently, but just loud enough for the woman to hear, “c’mon. Don’t be like that.” 

My face remains entirely neutral. “Sorry Titania, but you know how I am about refunds,” I reply. Sylves mimes a terrible frown, grimacing at the woman in sympathy, and combined with my alias, it clicks for her.

“... Ion?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say. “That’d be me.”

She swallows. “What do you want me to use the request on?”

I smile kindly, handing her the rune booklet. “Please ask for more runes to be added to that,” I say.

Very slowly, she takes the object from me, making sure her fingers don’t touch the dagger still half-held in my single hand. Then she speaks the request out loud, and after a brief glow, the tiny volume has a few more pages.

After that, she quickly slinks off. Making money from healing truly is the best.

- - -

One by one, members of my team trickle in. Norman made it up easily, having already cleared the trial beforehand. He takes a long drink from an enhanced refilling phial that another group “donated” when they refused to pay. Richard is still stuffing her face with leaves, and Sylves has begun trying to weave with them.

Opal comes out tired and naps, Jess squints into the three suns overhead. Tons of light spill forth from them, feeding the sea of trees below. We cook a meal from some more edible plants that Richard points out, and take a rest. 

Sleeping near an ascendancy well usually would not go well, but we manage anyway. The most notable occurrence is Vincent coming out, entirely unscathed. He waits for his team, but they never show up, so he shrugs and tags along with another group. He gives me a sly smile as he treks off.

Fucker.

Instead of paying him any mind, I practice some more. My shoulder-stump itches, so I change up the inscriptions in it a bit, making sure to optimize the healing. I need to cut it open every so often to make sure that it has a chance to regrow properly, but that’s not too much trouble at all.

One by one, each person from our team makes it up. Dar is the most hurt, but also the most pleased with his performance. He might be carved up, but something about him has changed, I can see that. His orange eyes glow just a little brighter, and his vessel is just a little stronger. He instantly spends both the favours he earned on enhancing his claw-weapon things.

When everyone is gathered, we sleep for one more day. 

This floor is less taxing on resources than the previous one. Instead, really, staying still is as safe as can be. But that’s exactly the trouble.

[Ascension Quest: Labyrinth. The only ways to ascend are in the undergrowth. Abandon the protective light of the sun, survive the treacherous forest, and find a Well yourself.]

The tower doesn’t highlight the points of ascension on this floor. It’s the first trap for new climbers, because the third floor is hard. The undergrowth is full of brutal ambushes and traps, full of things that stalk the darkness and kill while one sleeps. But it is the only way to ascend.

Up above, in the canopy, there are cities carved into the trees. That’s where Norman traded for a fae-bait thing for the storm. But down there? No civilization. It is a constant free-for-all, where half-sentient plants were hungry for blood. 

And it was also the only way further up the tower. Luckily, I needed to reach level 50, anyway, so a bit of experience will go a long way.

Chapter 96: Guilds and Guillotines

Some more favours are earned via my healing and spent on survival-type items before the well closes and moves. Jean got himself a better refilling water flask, too, and his is somehow styled as a potion bottle.

I make someone change mine to have a sturdy metal exterior, and a top that I can flip up to drink like a straw, or screw off entirely. Yes, it’s vain, but it makes it feel a little more like home. In the same way that my headphones do.

Another favour is spent on those - getting yet another phone for Bay to experiment with. She better figure out charging soon, or I might have to look into finding a new mechanic. Or experimenting myself, which would probably blow up.

So, instead of trying to mess with electronics, I just weave a few more crystalline mana threads inside my skull. The way Thatch looks at me means he can see them, but is willing to bear with them for now. I wish I could take away his guilt at killing - and I could [Suppress] it, of course - but it would be unfair. He is suffering, but that is something he probably has to go through. 

That’s fine, in the end. 

He suffers, but it’s okay. If he needs support, I’ll be there.

In the end, we do move. First, to another city on the canopy. They’re not too hard to spot - in fact, they fire off flares every so often, drawing arcing parabolas through the sky. It’s a practice that’s established itself - since it lets people above the canopy know their location, while drawing the wildlife below somewhere else, chasing after the flashes only once they’ve broken through the dense wall of leaves somewhere else.

And, at those points, guards can go to cull the wildlife.

It’s brutal, but also brutally efficient. Somehow, I’m tempted to find a group of ants again and see if I can help them wage war on the humans, but decide against it. The quest is simple, this time. Just survive and find a way up, once we’re strong enough. So we wait until Thatch spots a flare, then head to the city.

Walking under the three suns is taxing, but not as much as it should be. It feels like there’s a lot less warmth coming from them than from our sun back on earth. Instead, they shed incredibly bright light, to the point where I have to ask Bay for a pair of sunglasses and suppress my own vision.

The light does reflect off Richard’s blue micro-scales nicely though. She glints a little in the sunlight, and seems very charmed with it, spinning in her makeshift suit. 

After a few hours, we reach the outpost Thatch spotted. Amelie took some more time, since rolling her wheelchair across the uneven foliage is a bit troublesome, but she managed well. It’s fun seeing the way things are built. The houses are half-woven, half-carved into the wood. Branches twist around the huts, living leaves sprouting from their walls in ways that makes Sylves squeal in delight. And then others are buried in foliage, with cut boards jointed and nailed together.

The houses stack upwards a little, but extend below. In fact, someone opens a hatch in the canopy right in front of me even as we just approached. Jean jumps a bit. I look at him, and at Isabelle, sighing softly. We would probably separate at this outpost - which was fine, too. Jean would probably sell his healing-

My thoughts were interrupted when a zoof awkwardly climbed through the hatch, their snowy fur compressing as they crawled out. “Watch where you step,” they said, voice a little high and scratchy. “You were ratting my ceiling with the noise you’re making. New to this floor?”

I nod.

“Fricken obvious,” they sigh, rubbing their face with those scrawny hands and elongated fingers. “Minotaur in your party?”

Thatch steps forward, graciously replacing me in the conversation, and shakes his head. “No, no minotaurs. Why?”

The zoof scoffs. “Labyrinth sense,” they say, as if it were meant to be obvious. “Means they often make incredible guides for the undergrowth. But no wonder. The guild keeps a tight leash on them.”

Sylves tilts her head at that, a faint frown playing across her lips. “The guild?” she asks.

Once again, the local sighs in exasperation. “Yeah, the woodlands guild. Third floor staple, keeps all the maps and best guides to themselves. Anyone doing tours without their permission gets strong-armed. Anyone selling maps? Cracked down on. If you aren’t paying them, you aren’t going up.”

I look at Sylves, at the way she frowns, then at Opal’s fingers, tapping the hilt of their sword, and the way Thatch and Inu clench their fists. Softly, I sigh. “Does this guild force people into their service?”

“They kill those who don’t pay a chunk of change for using them as a broker,” the zoof says. “So, basically the same, yes.”

Softly, I sigh. “I see. Can you point us at their nearest hall.”

“Biggest building,” they say, pointing at a giant agglomeration of verdant leaves and dark wood, carved from boards and hovering precipitously in the canopy. “Can’t miss it.”

With one last nod, we take note of the location. Seems like we found where we’ll be making trouble this floor. I eye my friends one more time. Seriously, not a quiet moment with these people.

Ah well. If they want a silly guild burned to the ground, I’ll burn it to the ground. No questions asked.