Magic Breaker Ch 82-84

Chapter 82: Time

The next day, Norman hands me a little ring he found. It has a few runes inscribed on it, probably made by the tower as a reward - it has that quality to it that makes it look like no one with actual hands made it.

But the runes are perfectly functional, warming enchantments. So, until captain Malcolm shows up, I inspect them. Eventually, when the grumpy old man appears, Norman extends [Unassuming] to the item, and I [Suppress] it’s presence, cloaking any mana usage.

Once again, we get chewed out a bit, but I simply bear with it. We’re new, after all. It’s only natural we get suspected. There are a few people who send us annoyed glances, and an older scithian with amber wings bumps into me. He gives me a glare, and his mana flares for a moment, sending needles across my skin. I wanna kill him, but I don’t. And, to be fair, we did steal the items. If only people learned not to pester me so much. 

But that’s fine. In the end, the captain grumbles and walks off. I vent a bit of steam in the night, tearing into the fogfae more viciously than usual, and getting a new level for my troubles. 

[Level Up! 31 > 32]

All three of my points go into my vessel. It’s also grown naturally a bit, by one point. Apparently, absorbing spells with my epitaph has a chance to grow it. How curious. 

The game of dispelling I started with Jess has become more common. The others are also starting minor little contests with each other. Inu and Thatch pit [Reservoir] and [Rage] against each other. Opal tries to [Blink] away before Amelie can catch them with [Puppeteer]. Norman hides and Thatch seeks.

There are tons of little games to help build our skills. As I enchant more, I tinker with the way I solidify mana, changing my stylus to be more sturdy and easier to hold together, which improves my [Solidification], not enough to get a level, yet. But I do use [Selection] to create a connection between my enchanting tol and the enchantments, helping me make the runes more accurate. 

[Selection 10 > 11]

I also do a lot of experimentation on my arm. It’s something I take care not to do around the others, cause it wouldn’t be fun for them to see me slice it open each time to test the regeneration out, but I still do it. I try different applications of my healing skill, testing pattern after pattern after pattern. 

Slowly, I’m developing it, but it’s taking time. My arm is still a stump, though I managed to reduce the scarring a bit, which has been nice. The phantom pain sucks, and I still catch myself trying to move it sometimes, before reminding myself that it’s gone, but that’s okay. Each time I see Sylves feed another meal to someone who annoyed me, each time another thread of mana reaches out from [Hospitality], logging a connection that she wants to leverage to keep my peace, I remember why I did it.

And so, days pass.

- - -

Sleet drizzles against the top of the tent. It’s gotten colder again, frost gathering on the wooden boards, the ice barely kept at bay by Jess’ flames. Bay has been hard at work reinforcing the tent to make it more comfortable, working with Sylves and Amelie to thicken the fabric, and insulate it.

I’m currently working on one of those pieces, trying to weave heat retention runes into fabric. It’s good practice for the cloak I’m working on for Norman. Putting enchantments onto fabric is a strange experience, where it’s half moving the threads around, and half weaving the mana pathways into it?

The sensation is hard to describe, but in essence, I use my solidified mana to create gaps in the dense weave of the fabric; rather than carving, I simply move things out of the way with mana-based thread, then let it dissipate. 

It’s still awkward and crude, and I prefer the solidity of simply carving runes into metal, but, well. An enchanted cloak with tiny inscriptions woven into it sure is more inconspicuous than if I were to carve glowing runes into Inu’s armor.

Plus… making things more sturdy is something Bay is already developing a skill for. I want more versatility than that. So I tap into the essence of my class, feeling the trickle of it that comes whenever I make a small jump in understanding, and slowly improving my methods by practicing. 

For this kind of fabric-work I really do notice the essence from the lake work in my favour, though. It feels like I could almost weave moonlight into the enchantments, but I don’t. Instead I tap more into the weaving part, and coax the secrets of fabric enchanting out of the tower one by one. 

I also spend a minor request on an expansion of my rune booklet, focusing on fabric work. This leaves me with two minor requests.  

People haven’t gotten hurt during the nights yet, and the attacks are slowing down. That’s okay, though, everyone is still gathering levels. I rub my arm against my shoulders, feeling the cold. It bites my skin, and I huddle closer to the flame, tossing a half hearted attempt at dispelling it against the fire. My mana gets consumed, and it burns a bit brighter, a bit warmer.

I breathe, and focus on weaving my enchantments.

- - -

A new person comes to harass me when I want to sleep after the night. This time, they’re pushy. It almost escalates. Thatch and Inu talk to them, and something about the guy pisses Thatch off. Sylves steps in to stop him from taking his head off.

They asked if I was interested in joining their team.

The next day, Norman brings me another item. How kind of them to make a donation.

- - -

Another day passes, then another, when we get slightly smaller rations. “A new group joined the caravan,” captain Malcolm explains when we ask. “They’re humans, too. Say hello, see if you know each other.”

I don’t need to. Shirtless man Maximillian is already waving at me, walking over in long strides, bringing his party along with him. I’ve forgotten the names already, but after whispering the question to Inu, she reminds me that the girl is Rose and the guy is Pyro. The guy with red hair whose wounds I healed. 

He looks at me arrogantly. Wearing some kind of red leather robes. The woman, Rose, I remind myself, looks at me with contempt. Maximillian himself, though, was smiling brightly as he strode up to meet us.

“Ho there!” he calls. I tilt my head. Has he bonded with some kind of dwarven ancestor? Looking at his wide frame, he might- “Oi,” he says. “I can tell you’re thinking insults.”

“I’d never,” I lie, calmly. “Second floor?”

“Starving,” Rose says. “Fucking horrid out there.”

Thatch smiles politely. “Hand her a bowl, Sylves,” he says, and the guardian of our stew-pot obliges, handing each of them a meal. Instantly, their mood towards us improves. “How’d you make it through until now?” Thatch asks.

“Rations,” Maximillian answers easily. “We got a lot of info on the next few floors on the first, and so we prepared.”

“Eating jerky for weeks is what we’ve been doing,” Rose grouched. Her complaints might even be a true match for Norman’s whining. Impressive. 

“I get that,” Thatch says with a commiserating smile. “Well, now you’ll have some more food at least.”

“We did figure that you can ask the tower for a refilling salt baggie with a minor request,” Maximillian notes. “Which has been a life saver.” Instantly, Richard follows the advice, and asks for just that, receiving a small pouch full of white crystals. She pinches and tastes a few of them, then throws the other group a beaming smile, adding more to the pot.

“Thank you for that. Care to share some of that knowledge on the upper floors?” Thatch asks with a smile.

Pyro, the redhead I saved last time, speaks up for once. “Huh? You didn’t prep for climbing?” he asks.

Thatch gives a grimace. “We got caught up in some… complications.”

“Oh, we heard,” Maximilian grins brightly. “See, I think Pyro might not know but…” he leans in towards the other man and whispers, “the scary one is Ion.”

At that, Pyro actually flinches a little. “No way,” he says. “Isn’t Ion some kind of descender?”

What?

“Yeah,” Ruby nods. “I’m surprised, too. How did you manage to sprout rumors that you’re some kind of reincarnated ascended?”

Huh?

Opal slaps their thighs and busts out in laughter. “Bahahahaha! A fucking reincarnator- Hah! Yeah right. That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.” They wipe at a tear in their eyes. “Ion… What’s your divine aspect, huh? The void?”

“Surely it’d be the abyss,” Sylves chimes in helpfully, snickering at me.

I blink, then sigh. “I assure you, I am entirely human.” For now.

“As much as any of us are at this point,” Pyro grumbles annoyedly. He eats another big bite of soup before grumbling some more. “This tower’s taking our humanity, bit by bit.”

“What’s that mean?” Dar asks, tilting his head.

For the first time, Max’s party really focuses on the wulven. I see Pyro’s lips settle firmly into that frown, while Rose’s eyebrows crinkle a little. Maximillian, for his part, simply smiles brightly. “Well, humanity is what humans use to denote familiarity and safety, y’see. It means that we are comfortable knowing we won’t hurt others.”

“So humans are… pacifists?” Richard chitters.

That makes the big guy laugh. “Hah! No, not at all. But we like to tell ourselves we are.”

Dar tilts his head. “That makes no sense.”

“Your obsession with remaining as you are seems like it would promote stagnation,” Richard remarks. 

“I just don’t wanna accidentally kill people,” Pryo grumbles, looking at the floor.

For a few seconds, everyone is silent at that. How silly. This obsession with humanity. I’m no less or more of a person than when the tower descended. Thatch has to break up the quiet with a few words of encouragement. “So…” he starts, “about those next couple floors?”

Chapter 83: Information

Turns out, humans are remarkably willing to work together. For some reason, they didn’t ask us for any favours in exchange for this. Which seems bizarre to me, but they were probably trying to buy goodwill. 

Not that there’s any issue with that. I guess I mind the implied favour a little more than simply paying an upfront, concrete price. It’s annoying in the same way that haggling is. The back and forth is bothersome, and I would rather just have a thing to do that I can do.

But whatever. They’ll get their one favour when it comes to it, and if I never repay them, I’m not losing any sleep over it. I take a deep breath, feeling how just a few hours with them drained my social batteries. “No one speak with me,” I say, laying down on the wooden floor, and putting on my headphones. 

They don’t work, but the comfort is the same, as [Suppression] tunes out the world. I pull up a new blank sheet of metal and start scratching runes into it, thinking about what we learnt.

My very first thought is drawn to the big stuff. The fifth floor.

Often, that step from fourth to fifth is called the ascension. It’s not impossible to do - in fact, almost anyone who puts their mind to it absolutely can, but the tower changes afterwards. The floors, fundamentally, change.

First, there are monoliths. Smaller towers with multiple smaller floors that can be cleared in a few days or weeks, promising rewards. Second, it’s where descension mechanics start to kick in.

Ascending the Tower is a test of power. Of strength and willingness to climb. Descending is the opposite - and anyone who wishes to descend must go through tests of control and depth. It’s not about being able to prove you’re strong enough, it’s about limiting yourself to a suitable amount.

There are sanctions for excessive use of powers on the lower floors. It’s why I survived my brush with the Flametouched. The thought makes my skull ache, but I brush it aside. The descenders have to place limits on themselves, reducing their stats, reducing their supremacy, and waiting for their levels to stabilize, lest they crack and break themselves.

In short, the thing that the tower needs you to prove is your ability to adapt.

Any floor you have not been on before requires a full scale trial. Any floor you have been on can be transpired normally, but you will still be subject to rules of that floor. Meaning that one must cross the thresholds to ascend, and must put on limiters to descend. 

But why?

That’s what I really want to know. Why are these rules in place? Did anyone in particular decide on them? Who would wanna descend, and for what purpose? 

It makes me think a little of transhumanism. If there are humans who wish to become, say, robots or monsters, are there perhaps robots or monsters who simply wish to become humans? In so many stories, dragons walk along the mortals, because, apparently, we are interesting to them.

Is that arrogance? I thread my mana through the enchantment, and pull out another plate, working as I think. What does it mean to be human? Does it mean to love humanity? Does it mean to live kindly? Does it mean to strive for betterment?

The thought of humanity bothers me. It’s so narrow. For every species, there are creatures who deserve respect, and ones who don’t. Humans aren’t special. They tell each other that they are, but they’re not at all. I don’t like it at all. No matter someone’s species, I think anyone has the potential to be a person. Personhood. I like that word better than ‘humanity’.

I breathe, the world quieting even more as I double down on [Suppression]. It’s funny that in the end, it was always a skill meant to be used on myself. Not, however, for how I’m using it now.

The skill was granted based on who I am, who I had been for a lifetime, after all. And I know exactly what it’s meant to be used for. Gently, I smile, and simply push down the noise of the world.

I know what it’s meant for. But I’m not using it for that.

Is that what it means to be a person?

- - - 

More time passes. A few days after my last bit of enchantment work, I finally see the other healer for the first time.

He’s a kid. 

For the first time since the integration, I wonder about the lowest boundary for age. When do skills manifest? When do they appear? How old is he?

He is short, quite a bit shorter than me, probably in the middle of a growth spurt. His hair is short and a light blonde, and he’s wearing a dark blue suit jacket that looks a little too small for him. He’s hunched over another human, someone curled up in pain but with no visible wounds, staring at them with bright blue eyes.

Those eyes are cold.

I look at him, probably for a bit too long, and he turns to face me, the pale blue of his healing skill fizzling out. He tilts his head a little, then turns to one of his group, pointing at me. He just stares at the other man, whose lips move as if to explain something.

Then, still wearing that same, curious expression, he waves. I raise my hand and wave, too. He waves harder.

Hopping up from my perch on the wagon, I walk towards him. There’s a soft popping, and Opal appears at my side, arms crossed behind their head. “Yoyo. What’re we up to?”

I nod towards the kid. “The other healer.”

Opal grins and nods, seemingly pleased with my explanation. We get to about 20 metres away from the kid, before someone steps in front of us. It’s a woman, tall and muscular, with an axe strapped to her back. She’s got short, dark hair, silvery streaks of age woven into it. Her face is twisted into a frown.

“What do you want?” she asks.

Twisting a bit to see the boy, his hands already on the injured human again, I nod towards him. “Wanna talk to the healer.”

“Jean doesn’t talk,” she says. 

I look at the kid. “Because you don’t let anyone see him?”

She grins. “Oh, in part. The other bit is that he doesn’t want to.”

“Doesn’t want to?” I ask, already seeing the kid flinching slightly in the back. “That seems like a callous way to say that.”

At that, her grin fades, and she eyes me up and down. “What would you know?”

“I was nonspeaking for about three years,” I reply. 

“What’s that mean?” she asks, oblivious to the second curious look the kid’s shooting me.

Opal bristles at the lady. “It means that my friend is good with the quiet sorta people,” they say. “It means that you’re sounding like, and pardon my french here, a bit of a bitch.”

A small smirk darts across my lips. I close my eyes, not letting the old lady’s look of indignation ruin it for me. “What’s your name?” I ask, maybe about a half second before she wants to start yelling. “I’m Snow.”

“Isabelle,” she replies, grumpily. So many people in this caravan seem to be like that. All grouchy. I wait for her to say more, but there’s nothing except the soft hum of healing magics, until that, too, tapers off. “I’ll ask you to leave now.”

I tilt my head, softly. “I was hoping to exchange pointers with Jean.” His eyes seem to light up at the idea.

“Your healing skills are different,” she waves me off. “Leave my grandson alone.”

Ah, so that’s how it is. With some hesitation, I give a small nod. “Alright, then,” I say. “Thank you for your time.” Then, I turn around. With my remaining arm, I pull a thin piece of wood from a nearby wagon, and use my mana to scratch words into it. Then, I pass it to Opal, and it vanishes with the soft pop of a [Blink].

Now, we’ll wait and see.

- - -

I keep working on my memory-skill. Bit by bit, I’m improving it. There’s also a much larger sample size, now that we’re in the caravan. Whenever someone activates a skill within the range of my [Deconstruction], I fight just a bit. 

Not enough to be noticeable - at most, it costs them a tiny bit more mana, but enough for me to slowly piece the abilities together. Piece by piece, like puzzles, I assemble them in my mind, then try to keep them available for as long as possible. 

It’s a difficult exercise with my only slightly superhuman memory, but I do manage to a good degree. I work on deconstructing a lot of my party members’ skills, too. Inu’s [Reservoir], Bay’s [Part Storage], Thatch’s [Channelling], Opal’s [Echo], Richard’s [Stomach]. They’re all helpful for forming ideas about what I want.

The nights have become quiet, so I usually work deep into those. Nothing comes from the fog. I do still see the fae, crawling along the edges, watching and waiting. Stalking us. It feels colder still, these days. Sleet and rain comes in the night; not from the storm itself, but just from the edges.

I weave my mana, testing and trying different shapes, and watch them all fall apart and crumble. After a few requests from my party, these tests are done outside of my body, to prevent myself from taking any kind of internal damage.

Sighing softly, I wrap the enchanted blankets tighter around myself, and focus some more, moving my mana outside of my vessel yet again, relieving the pulsating pressure against my chest just a bit, and making it easier to breathe the chilly air of the second floor. The cart trudges on beneath me. 

Eventually, there’s another knock. Frostbite, again, someone from the gardening team requires healing. The old man with amber wings stands by and watches me heal. With some help from Jess, we’re able to thaw the gardener back up, and then heal any of the damage that was done. Some rather nasty tissue death. No amputation needed, luckily.

Though growing back some smaller digits might be good practice for my shoulder. I roll the stump I still have, massaging it to help the blood flow through it a bit more. It gets cold really easily, which is why I’m wrapped in even more blankets than the others, with one almost permanently wrapped around that side of my body.

Another day passes. Another person comes by with frostbite. This time, I smile, and get the message. “Come in,” I say. With a nod, the small and frail figure hops onto the cart behind me, wrapped in blankets. Opal quickly takes to standing guard outside.

Once we’re indoors, Jean takes off some of the blankets. His big eyes are focused on me. He pulls out a block of paper from earth, and a ballpoint pen. “So,” he writes in a soft, curly font, “let’s talk.”

Chapter 84: Another Healer

Jean is actually frostbitten. He has used a skill to alter his hair colour, but changes it back now. It was enough to get him in here when he was wrapped in blankets and freezing outside, and though we might get trouble for it with his grandma, I’m rather sure no one will accuse us of abducting him.

Unless he claims we did. In which case, well. We’re in trouble.

But, looking at his eyes, I think we’ll be rather fine.

I nod at his declaration. “Yes, let’s,” I say. “Since I asked you here, you get to ask first.”

Jean nods, entirely serious, his face set. Then, he holds out a hand. Its skin is pale. “Heal me,” his eyes say.

Right. That makes sense. Of course he’d want to see my skill first. I look at his face, lips pressed into a thin line, and I can tell he’s putting on a brave expression for me. He’s in rather genuine pain. 

So, I respond in kind, grabbing a few of the enchanted blankets, wrapping them around him, and having Jess light a fire in a cube of mana I maintain. He holds it like a hot water bottle, up to his tummy, cradling it. I then trace a few inscriptions just above his arm and activate my skill, regenerating some lost tissue and enhancing his blood flow to make sure he warms up properly.

His heart stat does the rest to help him recover rather quickly. “You didn’t have to actually get hurt,” I note.

He nods, pulling out the block again and writing. “But this did make it more convincing.”

I just nod, appreciating his dedication. I sit down, crossing my legs, and placing my one arm in my lap, then tilt my head at him. “Ask.”

“How did you lose your arm?” he writes.

“I cut it off myself,” I say. “During the ascension to the second floor, the tower asked for a sacrifice. This is what I gave.”

Jean nods, slowly, his lips pressed against each other. He’s chewing the inside of his cheek, focusing and thinking. I wonder if he’s using some sort of skill to remain so concentrated. What else could it be? But, for now, he gets to ask.

“Your eye?” he writes.

Lightly, I tap a nail against the open part of my skull. It feels weird and the knocking sound feels louder than it should be. The boy looks somehow both fascinated and a little horrified at the display. My skin around the wound looks creepy, too, little pale tendrils crawling forward over white bone.

“This is from a descender. One of the Eyes sent someone down, they found me, and this was the best they could do,” I say. “It burnt my eye, but I already healed that part.”

He nods, his lips even thinner now. “Can I try?” he writes.

“No,” I shake my head. “I appreciate the thought, but I want to practice on the wounds to help my friend heal hers.”

“You care about your friends,” Jean notes.

“Sure,” I shrug.

The boy drums his fingers against the wood, still holding the warm cube against himself with the other arm. Then, he scribbles on the paper again, tearing off the page and handing it to me. “Could we be friends?” it says. His eyes are completely serious. What an earnest request.

“I’m pretty picky about my friends,” I say. “Why do you want to be friends?”

He frowns, his eyebrows furrowing. The way he wears every emotion on his sleeve is almost charming. He takes a long moment to write down an answer. “I want more friends. Grandma says I shouldn’t trust people. But when they’re hurt, they really don’t seem all that bad,” the paper says. “So, I want to see if things are as bad as she says.”

“Then I don’t think I would be a good friend to you,” I say. His face falls a little bit. “But,” I add, “I’m sure we can find a workaround. For now, we’re… friendly colleagues, yes?” I ask.

He tilts his head. In a quiet, almost whisper, he opens his mouth. “Colleagues?”

Gravely, I nod. “Colleagues. We’re both healers, after all, so we gotta work together.”

“Okay,” he agrees, seriously.

“Good,” I say, leaning back a bit. “And I’m sure some other members of my group will be willing to be your friends. Inu especially - the tall girl with dark hair,” I say.

At that, his eyes light up and he leans forward a bit. “Really?” The words come a little easier to him now. He’s a brave kid. 

“Really,” I nod. Then, I hold up a hand. “After we talk, though. I’m sure you have more questions.”

Slowly, he reigns in his excitement then nods again. “Right,” he writes, then takes a deep breath. “Why are you so calm?”

“The short answer is that I simply struggle to feel much at all,” I say, shrugging. “I try my best. If I succeed, I succeed. If I die, I die. That’s all there is to it.”

“What if your friends get hurt?” 

“I’d save them and avenge them,” I say, simply.

Jean tilts his head, ever so slightly. “Would you be angry?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’d like to think I would be.”

At that, he nods, slowly. “Okay. How did you get your healing skill?”

“By seeing how I got healed when allocating points,” I answer readily. “It was a combination of skills from me and my friends that let me catch even a glimpse. Then, it took a lot of practice and cutting myself open.”

“That sounds horrible,” Jean writes.

I shrug. “It was tolerable,” I say.

He nods, very slowly. Then, finally, he leans back a bit. “I think I understand you more now,” he writes after a few moments. “You’re not too bad,” he whispers.

“Sure,” I say.

“You’re smiling,” he says.

Slowly, I touch a finger to my mouth. He’s right. “Huh,” I say. “How strange.”

The kids smiles at me a little, too. “Okay. Your turn.”

“How did you get your healing skill?” I ask.

He grins. “Started with it,” he says. His words come a little easier now. Is he warming up? Inu hands him a bit of food, too. I notice that they’re looking at us, stealing glances from outside. I ignore them. “It’s called [Treatment].”

“How does it work?” I ask.

“Want me to demonstrate?” he asks in return. I look at him, then at my stump. 

“You sneaky rascal,” I say.

At that, he flashes a bright grin, the first I’ve seen him give. “Caught me!”

“I s’pose you don’t want me to just… stab myself?”

The smile fades. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’d dislike that.”

With a small roll of my eyes, I gesture at myself. “Go on then, show me.”

Jean lights up just a little again, and quickly makes a few hops towards me, until we’re sitting close enough to touch. He’s smaller than me, quite a bit smaller. I look down on him, and he slowly reaches out.

“Can you use it without touch?” I ask.

The boy looks up at me for a second, giving me a light tilt of his head. “Yes, I can, but it’ll be less effective,” he explains.

I nod. “Please avoid touching me.”

He looks confused again, tilting his head.

“It’s like… you don’t like talking, for the most part, yes?” I ask, and he nods. “I don’t like being touched in that way.” At that, his eyes light up. He nods again, and activates the skill. Mana courses through him, rushing out of his vessel. He must have a pretty high level of vessel, since there is quite a bit of power behind the healing. It congeals into a blueish fog, drifting from his fingertips and soaking into my skin.

There’s a tingling beneath my flesh, the kind that makes the space between my muscles itch a little. But I can also feel it helping my natural regeneration along, synergizing more heavily with heart than my own skill does. I observe the way the energy soaks into me, gently alleviating little pains and troubles, and making my blood vessels widen a bit, too.

It’s curious. I [Observe] the way the skill works, the way the mana interacts. Then I look to Jean. “Can you trigger it again?”

He nods and does as asked. This time, I try to [Observe] the mana flowing through him. There’s some kind of barrier, though, and it’s hard to peer into someone else.

[Observation 4 > 5]

I see him shiver a little. “That feels… weird. Is that you?” he asks.

Slowly, I nod. “Yes, I’m trying to look at the activation pattern of your skill.”

Jean shivers again. “Uh. I’ll try to not fight it too much.”

“If it’s a lot of trouble, I can see it another way. You’ll have to use it a few times, and I’ll take the skill apart as it forms and then reverse-engineer it,” I say, pulling back on [Observation].

He nods quickly. “I think I’d prefer that,” he says.

“Okay. Go ahead, then,” I tell him.

Again, he nods, then triggers the skill. This time, I [Observe] the mana outside his body, target it with [Selection], follow the thread back to where the skill originates, take it apart with [Deconstruction], while [Suppressing] the effect it’ll have on Jean. It’s a much more complex process that leaves me a bunch of fragmented parts of the skill, but that’s okay, too. 

Already, I can see a few ways to incorporate it into my own healing skill, ways to draw out the duration and squeeze more efficiency from the mana I put in. The way his mist lingers might also let me make packets of healing that only activate when someone is hurt. Though that kind of pseudo-intelligence would need quite a bit of inscribing…

I think it over as he activates the skill again, and I break it once more, trying to weave my mana to mimic the patterns in the air. Bit by bit, I study his skill, learning and adjusting my own. And, after an hour or so, the effort pays off.

[Biological Restoration 7 > 8]

Gently, I smile, then stretch my remaining arm out. Jean looks tired, having cast his skill over and over again. I look at him for a long moment, seeing his drooping eyes. “If you want to nap, you can do it here,” I offer.

He smiles at me in return. “I would like that. Can you make me another caged campfire?” he asks.

I tilt my head a little. “No problem,” I reply, having Jess craft another mana-fuelled flame and encasing it in a shell of solid magic, slowly feeding off its cage to remain warm for longer.

Jean hugs the little thing carefully, and I round over the edges to make sure he doesn’t cut himself on it. “Rest well, kid. You can keep one of the enchanted blankets, too.” It’s only fair to hand him one, since he’s helped me develop my skill. He smiles happily, gives me a small thanks, then curls up in the warmth. 

Inu sits next to him, and I can feel her using the passive effects of her skills to learn a bit more about him, and make sure his dreams are peaceful. He ends up cradling the blankets to himself. I watch him for a moment, then turn to my projects again, ignoring the faint smile on my face and focusing on the enchanting. So much to do… and I feel like time’s running out.