Magic Breaker Ch 76-78

Chapter 76: Lay of the Land

Zeph heads out after rambling at us for a few minutes. Like a storm, she simply sweeps over us, then disappears off into the distance, vanishing into a stealth skill I can’t see through without causing more trouble than she deserves.

Despite her cold attitude, after all, she helped us, for no reason other than us being climbers, too. Even if the rant was only a few minutes long. 

The first two lessons were the most important, and wide-reaching. The first floors of the tower are almost a tutorial. The first floor, which requires you stay until reaching the first threshold at level 10. The second floor requires hitting level 25. The third floor requires level 50. The fourth floor requires level 100.

On the fifth floor, the rules change, though she refused to elaborate how or why. It brings bad luck to reveal too much about the tower, apparently. If you do it too often, you could even draw the tower’s wrath.

The threshold guidelines are, in a lot of ways, about safety. Otherwise, higher magic density on the higher floors could just kill or mutate people. In fact, the tower’s mana might disintegrate one’s living body like it did the goblin corpses back on Earth. Or it could spawn parasites right inside your chest as a “special trial.”

So, only ascend once the thresholds were crossed. The other lesson she imparted was the danger on the second floor. The storm.

There were cities here, of course, but none formed around ascension wells - portals were always, always temporary, since the storm would eventually sweep through the area. No one wanted to be caught in it, so all cities were nomadic. 

Getting caught in the storm was a swift way to die, she said. In fact, it was so integral as a threat, that it was baked into the system. See, the second floor was the great unifier. It tested the simple ability for any person or group of people to survive.

[Ascension Quest: Within Nature. The second floor is full of treachery. Survive for twenty-five days to ascend to the next floor.]

I look at the sky, shimmering a dark blue behind all those eyes, and the green grass under my feet. I look at Sylves, still sprawled out. I listen to the faint wind and the silence that stretches on in this place. The distant fog that makes it hard to predict what might be coming. And, for a moment, I let myself wonder if it could really be that bad.

- - -

Inu stumbles out of the ascension well, bleeding, holding her side. There’s a massive hole just under her ribcage. It reaches about a third of the way across her torso by width. Then, she drags an unconscious Norman out behind her, dumping him on the grass unceremoniously.

“Heal him,” she demands. I feel a spark of annoyance with her tone, but seeing the absolute torrent of blood pouring out of her, I put my objections aside and take a look at Norman. He’s… okay, for the most part. 

[Observation 1 > 2]

Ah, no, there’s some bleeding in his brain. That would make Inu worry.

A tiny application of [Biological Restoration] knits the blood vessels back together, and a separate cast of [Disintegration] turns the blood that was already spilled into motes of mana. Norman groans, but his breathing steadies. Inu looks relieved.

Already, the blood spilling from her side has lessened, her [Resistance] steadily adapting to the blood loss, almost stopping it. I look at her. “Is it okay to heal you now?”

She smiles, with tears in her eyes. “Please do,” she says. “This hurts a lot.”

I nod, then [Suppress] her pain. A quick look at her wounds prepares me for a rather lengthy healing session. Sylves hands over some dried food, infused with actual faerie [Hospitality]. It helps my healing take hold a little more easily.

Inu is tricky. [Resistance] does resist damage, after all, but it also kind of resists healing. It resist… well, everything, really. Mana, impacts, even gravity. Inu is noticeably lighter by now. But she can also control it. When she twists the skill into the right shape, and has it act the way she wants, then it can resist only damage. 

That makes healing her actually easier. Unlike the others, it means she has to be an active participant. If she were unconscious, I probably couldn’t stitch her back together. This way, though, with her help? And her massive heart score?

[Biological Restoration 6 > 7]

Inu bravely grits her teeth, and I ease the pain as much as I can. “Lean on me with some Empathy,” I say.

“Me too,” Sylves offers.

With a tiny nod, she does just that. Liquid fire arcs through my side. It hurts as if my insides were being torn apart. I gasp from it, almost stumbling, but then, [Suppression] comes down violently. The pain fades away to a dull buzz and I draw a sharp breath. 

Sylves sits there. Then, very slowly, she grabs her legs, wrapping her arm and stump around her knees and curling up. “Fuck,” she says. “Fuck it hurts.”

I nod sympathetically, then focus on the healing more. Mana pours out of me, forming shapes. I trace them with my finger, just faintly, feeling the faint resonance between the motions. The way my hand vibrates when following the pattern. It seems to help the spell take hold just a little better, so I continue with it. 

Again and again and again I cast, letting magic seep into the wound and new flesh wriggle forth. It’s not perfect, even once I’ve emptied out my entire vessel into the spell, but it’s healed. There’s still a noticeable dent. I don’t think I’ve entirely reformed her intestines correctly, and she might have lost a kidney. 

Maybe once my healing spell is better. I look at my lost arm. Yeah. It’ll make good practice.

“Done,” I say. Inu gasps a small thanks, then falls over backwards, collapsing onto the ground.

Shaken by the impact of the resilient girl, Norman stirs awake. He sits up, then looks around in a panic. When he notices me, he calms down, just a little. “Oh,” he says. “We’re out?”

Sylves pats his shoulder. “You are,” she assures him. “Safe and sound on the second floor.”

He blinks. “Safe and sounds…” he repeats. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The two start talking, and I tune it out a little. Instead, I look at the sky again.

[Respitia the Pure glares at you for your appropriation of the healing arts. She declares that an ant could do better than you.]

Heh. That’s funny. “They can’t,” I whisper to her. I know they can’t because they needed me to heal one of them on the previous floor, but-

But Respitia doesn’t know that.

Huh. I think it over again. Her sentence only makes sense if she hadn’t seen me then. It makes me think… what do the Eyes see? And do they need to pay a price for it?

Clearly the Flametouched wants to kill me, and so does Respitia, but neither have been able to do so. Which means they either can’t see me properly, or can’t communicate entirely with their clergy. Perhaps both.

I heard a thundercrack in the distance.

The tower was, to some degree, fair. Not always, definitely not always, but every sabotage came with a price. And now, I’d gotten my first hint at this all. Just a tiny bit. But that was fine. It was only a matter of time until I could break it all apart from here.

- - -

Before Opal and Amelie dragged themselves through the well, there were a few others. A notable amount of humans - probably because we were new to the tower and so there was an upwards rush. We were competitive, after all. Hiy’ht and wulven came up, too, but very few of the species I know have been in the tower for longer.

The scraggly guy with the grimoire comes through, and sits down on the ground. I look at them, and they stare back at me. They have small, round glasses, and a resting frown. “Name?” they ask.

“Ion,” I reply.

Their eyebrows shoot up. “Oh,” they say. Suddenly, eyes are on me. “Really, now?” 

I notice their fingers drift along the page of their grimoire, and I notice tiny inscriptions on it. “Give me your spellbook and I’ll prove it.”

“Absolutely not,” they say, sneering. “I would be amenable to showing you some tricks for a low fee…”

I blink. Is he… trying to fleece me? Yeah, no. Instead, I focus on my mana maze again, threading the energy through it. 

They lean in. “What’s that?” they ask.

Slowly, I turn to face them. Hungry, curious eyes. “Name?” I ask.

“Caster,” they reply, pushing their glasses up. 

I nod, silently, focusing on the exercise again. Mana threads, courses, then breaks in the maze when I love control over it, when the motions required become too delicate and the distance of the thread is too large. The maze hums, harmlessly dispersing the tiny bits of energy into the air.

That rascal with a book tries to pick at the scraps with their own mana. I reach out and [Deconstruct] the attempt. Their eyes widen, looking at me like a biologist might at a particularly interesting snake. “Fascinating,” they mutter.

At that, I shake my head a little. Then I focus again. “Don’t try it again,” I warn, calmly.

Caster looks at me, with that same frown as always. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across their face. “Alright,” they say. With those words, they stand up, and walk away. I’m left in blissful silence, until Opal arrives, and starts yapping my ear off. 

With a soft sigh, I try to ignore them too. Bay better figure out how to recharge my headphones soon, dang it, or I’ll use my requests to learn a skill for it.

Someone stumbles out of the portal. A middle-aged looking woman, covered in red, bleeding gashes. No one else has set up a healing station here, yet. I walk over to her, kneeling down. “Hey. I’ll heal you up for one minor request.”

The woman turns at me. For a moment, she seems to wanna contest it, but then, Opal stands behind me, sword slung over their shoulder. Instead, she just nods. “Okay.”

Time to make bank.

Chapter 77: The Price

Is it very moral of me to prey on injured people? No, no it is not. And yet, I do it.

The guilt sinks into that apathetic hole in my chest. I don’t care. Not really. I try to be moral, to do good, because it’s the right thing to do. But, at the same time, in order to keep myself and my companions safe, I need the tower’s help.

The first person I heal buys me a book on enchanting. The second one upgrades the mana core I have with me to store more energy. That way, when everyone else pools their mana into the core, I can absorb it and heal a third person, making them upgrade my mana maze even further.

My training tool grows again, the box taking on an almost golden sheen. The runes on the sides expand and grow in mesmerizing patterns, almost invisible inlays as the tower’s favour graces the item. I don’t ask for any requests that the rest of my team owns, and instead study the booklet on runes.

[Inscription Introduction]

It holds some amount of essence, I’m sure. I can feel it when I read the runes. The way my understanding grows. Like hitting milestones in my job, but fainter. A gentle kind of learning.

Really, the booklet isn’t impressive. It’s a handful of terribly basic runes. But, at the same time, it’s more than I’ve ever had. Explanations, rather than randomly trying to pierce together what certain shapes do. I’d been brute forcing a language. Now I had a dictionary - a really crappy one, but a dictionary nonetheless.

One by one, our party members trickled through. Clone girl also walked by, though she ignored me other than a short glance. Richard left with Jess, unharmed. Dar and Thatch, both wounded, but not too terribly so. Bay and Kuro, who quickly slinks into my shadow again. 

I look at our engineer. “Know how to charge up headphones yet?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

I tap Thatch. “Tell them I’ll heal anyone who donates a pair of headphones.”

He holds back a snort, and nods, even though he’s grinning in amusement. Still, he brings his hands to his mouth, and yells. “Healing if you can provide headphones! Other electronics work too! Phones, ipods, powerbanks, anything that needs charging!”

“You’re brilliant,” I say, at the same volume as usual.

“Thanks,” he says. He smiles again. I do, too, knowing that he needed it. Something silly to worry less.

And now, I’m doing something good. Surely, taking someone’s headphones isn’t as bad as taking their requests from the tower. Maybe. Probably.

More healing, more time passing… and then, the ascendancy well vanishes. I get up, and pour some water over myself from the refilling phial, washing bits of blood that got onto my single remaining arm away. “Okay. Sylves, you’ve briefed everyone on what we know?”

“Yepyep!” the fairy girl confirms. Again, she’s back to her usual antics, floating in the air, laying on the side, her single arm comfortably supporting her head.

“Good. We all have the same quest?” 

“Sure do,” Opal replies calmly. 

“Good. Then let’s get the hecc outta here,” I say, smiling. There’s a thundercrack in the distance, and I can see the sky darkening just a bit above the fog. So, we book it. Head off into the distance of the second floor. My new boots step down softly on the grass, and I face the horizon. 

Let’s see what we’ll find.

- - -

We get clipped by the tail end of the storm.

It’s loud and huge and rumbles over the world, dimming it. The eyes in the sky are devoured by the thick veil of fog and dark clouds. We run, but the howling winds find us anyway. 

Sylves tries to hold them at bay, but they’re strong and constant. I [Suppress] them, and still they howl in my ears, making it impossible to hear the others. The winds are strong enough to have knocked me off my feet before integration, even with two people dampening their effects.

Then, the sheet of rain hits us. 

Calling it rain is generous; it’s more like sleet. A mix of tiny icicles, lancing through the air and stabbing my skin like needles, and wet, heavy globs of snow and water. Within minutes, we’re soaked and freezing. Jess casts balls of fire near us to keep us warm, but the pelting rain slams into them, making them look like pathetic candleflames.

The floor beneath our feet turns to muck, and my boots are sucked down into it with every step, making it exponentially harder to walk. The light is sucked from the world, until it’s turned a dull grey of sleet and wind. We can’t talk, can barely see.

Thunder rumbles its way over to us every few seconds, carried on the wind. Great spears of bright lightning tear the cloudveil asunder, lancing to the ground in a rumbler of power. I can feel the muck shake beneath my feet, but still, we trounce on, walking as fast as we can. The world rumbles, and it’s all wind and snow, for hours.

Until it isn’t.

At a moment’s notice, the wind turns, and the storm is carried away. I breathe a sigh of relief, rubbing my freezing stump of a shoulder, trying to get the blood flowing in it. The flame near me brightens, and I give Jess an appreciative nod. 

Usually I prefer the cold. I should learn some elemental skills, too. Another thing to add to the list, I suppose. I’m glad that the storm pulled away, though. Having gotten caught up in the middle of it sounds like a nightmare.

Middle of it. Eye of the storm. A small smile blooms on my face. What would be in the middle of a storm like that? Surely, some kind of reward for aspiring climbers. Surely. Probably. 

I wanna test it out.

Not yet, though. My skin is still all pins and needles, heating back up after the relentless torrent. At least none of us were incinerated with lightning. Richard ate a ton of the sleet, so she is ready to spit a freezing typhoon at the next person who looks at us funny, too. 

But there’s nothing, yet. The second floor feels remarkably… empty, really. I wonder why that is. The tower clearly has capabilities of creating fully fledged creatures from mana, like the goblins and such that were created for the integration of Earth. So, why is this place so bland?

Sure, the storm has swept through here, but at the same time… it seems strange, frankly.

Two days later, when the hunger starts moving from horrible to unbearable, I am starting to think I know why. It’s trying to starve us out. 

Chapter 78: Survival

/Climbing is a tough job. The tower is made to test, after all. And those tests aren’t fun or easy. The first floor is all ambushes. It needs you to stay vigilant, encourages you to buddy up with people and set up watches, yes? It exists to lay the foundations of a climbing party.

But the second floor is about survival. About resources. It’s a test if you’ve got a party that can cover for each other. Find the scarce few ingredients that exist, and make food from them. Track and escape the storm. Be ready for whatever comes from the fog.

And you should be ready for what comes from the fog. Cuz the tower isn’t kind. If you start hallucinating, just starve yourself to death. Trust me, it’s easier./

-Jill Êras - Bloom, level 143 Grovekeeper, Avatar of the Green Tide.

- - -

By the third day without food, we’re desperate. We’ve tried to use our requests at the tower, but they’ve been declined. No renewing food from it. Jess harvests some grass from the meadows, and Richard throws them into a pot of soup. By now, the hiy’ht has acquired the job of <Chef>, which helps make it feel a little less bad when I throw up. I’ve had to stop experimenting with my skills, and just been using [Biological Restoration] to keep the hunger at bay. 

I try to stop it from pulling apart my body as much as possible, but it’s not quite that easy. The skill only supplements itself with mana, needing calories. Since I don’t have those, its effects are limited. My stomach growls again, and I double down on [Suppressing] my own hunger. Just a little further, and we’ll be there. 

Another day passes, and when night comes, I hear the voices for the first time. It’s around the same time I consider carving off pieces of myself to cook in a pan and eat, then restore with the healing skill. Maybe that’d be enough to keep us filled? 

Melodic, quiet singing rings from the fog. It’s my turn on the watch, so I look up, and into the distance, straining my eyes, and testing the area with my mana. At first, nothing, but I change my approach, bit by bit, until I find something.

[Observation 2 > 3]

Something walks from the fog. It’s ethereal, shrouded in glittering mist, and beautiful. Long hair, woven from dense droplets that sparkle in the darkness of the night. A wide brimmed hat and a veil that hides their face, and a body that is entirely diffuse, a tangle of limbs hovering in the air.

The ethereal song ringing from it reaches out to me, and I feel it stir something in my heart. I haven’t heard music in so long, and we’ve already broken three pairs of headphones trying to charge them… 

My thoughts are dragged back to the figure in the fog. It’s beckoning for me to follow. That… doesn’t seem like a good idea. It bares needle sharp teeth on the palm of its dozen hands. Oh, it has food. How kind.

Slowly, I rise to my feet. The others look haggard by now. Four days of starvation are heavy, after all. Maybe I could bring back some food… 

Another figure steps from the fog. It wraps around the first one, and the maws on its arms bite into the spirit-flesh of the singer. The notes warp into beautiful screeches, tearing into my mind, beckoning me to come and indulge. I take a step forward, and I watch.

In a display of horrifying beauty, the second figure devours the first. Needle teeth tear into pale blue mist, splattering water to the ground. It instantly forms puddles. Water… we’d been able to make do with Jess’ [Freeze], but it took a lot out of her. This was good, yes.

I take another step. The horrid song of crunching, slurping, and discordant, harmonious, wonderful screeching continues. The two creatures of mist dissolve, tearing into one another in a flurry of motion that is violently entrancing. I take another step.

Then, I stop. 

There is a hand closed around my ankles. Sylves’. She looks at me, eyes wide. I tilt my head, confused, why she would look afraid. They should not have to fear while I was around. Was she scared of me leaving?

I look at the creatures in the fog. They continue tearing one another apart. I close my eyes, and breathe, knowing Sylves is looking at me. She’s asking me to stay. 

She’s my friend. If she’s asking, then I will. 

Slowly, all those desires fall into the vast hole within my chest. [Selection] finds the desire to leave, [Suppression] weakens it, [Deconstruction] tears it apart, and my epitaph, Abiding Apathy, swallows the pieces whole.

The screeches turn horrid to my ears, terrible wails that grate against my heart. They try to grab hold of my feelings, to pull me in, a siren song telling me it was safe to look, to come closer, that there was food. When, really, I was the food. Maybe I shouldn’t think of cannibalism.

Softly, I sigh. Then, I smile at Sylves. “I got it now,” I tell her.

She stares at me, then slowly, faintly, nods. Something in her fairy magic must be resonating with this. I turn to the creatures, and brush my mana sense forward.

[Fogfae lv. 43]

Ah, that’d do it. 

I smile, gently. The second one finishes up devouring the first, and the screams finally quiet. It’s a little larger, now, a little more solid looking. Its white flesh a little less ephemeral, its floating limbs seemingly connected by tendrils of ice and sleet. 

And it, too, sings.

The hymn of loss and desire and hunger rings out in a ghostly tune. It’s pretty, still, and it resonates with the essence of moonlight I hold. That I stole from Sylves, really. I do my best to put on a dopey, lazy smile, and walk a shambling gait towards it. The fogfae grows sharper as I draw near, blurry edges clearing up, and I can see a wide smile of needle-teeth behind the veil.

I play with my skills in my mind. I’m hungry, but the hunger is suppressed. Right now, the target of [Selection] is the fairy. There are a few things I am itching to test in this fight, so it’s time to put them to the test.

When I step into range, the creature reaches out with an arm. It’s ghostly and ethereal, but still feels powerful enough to rip into me, fingertips full of claws. Another dozen hands sneak my way, almost like little worms, listening to the thudding of my heart and the rushing of my blood.

Slowly, I reach out, staring into that veil. As my fingers brush up against its hand, I cast [Solidification]. Not on myself, but on it.

The spell takes hold, and suddenly, the ethereal fog coalesces into pale, white flesh. I instantly craft a dagger from mana, and cut off the fogfae’s arm. Freezing drops of milky white spill from the cut, freezing into blocks of ice as the limb falls to the floor.

Instantly, the eerie song fades to discordant screeches. A dozen hands descend onto me, and attempt to solidify, but I throw a [Deconstruct] at them, and they can’t manifest. An icy chill spreads through my veins as the limbs pass through me, but they can’t touch me.

A grin spreads on my face. This thing can usually materialize and grow ephemeral at will, but between [Solidification] and [Deconstruction], it’s dancing to my tune. 

Still, that terrible cold in my chest buds. First, it was just a sense of cold, but a moment later, it’s like my blood is ice in my veins. My limbs grow stiff and tired, and my eyelids heavy. Frost gathers on my hair.

I [Observe] the changes, at the same time as I solidify yet another arm of the thing, carving through it with my dagger made of mana. The movement is sluggish, but the faerie is, too. Not used to someone else controlling its shifts, another arm of milky flesh splatters to the ground.

It howls in pain, but that’s okay. I let go of the dagger. My arm is numb from frost, so it’s easier to puppeteer the weapon with my mind, even as [Deconstruction] chips away at the freezing cold. When the fae tries to hack at me again, I have to turn it ephemeral once more, even as further chills wrack my body. 

Bits of it fall into my Abiding Apathy, that void eating up the ghostly parts of the creature, and returning more than just mana to me. I can feel the heat of my heartbeat rising just faintly. The thing howls. 

Let’s see who outlasts who, bastard.

- - -

[Level Up! 30 > 31]

For the first time in a while, I place a point in heart, enjoying the warmth it brings to my pale skin before two more go to vessel. My lips are a faint blue, and my hair is caked with tiny flakes of ice as I walk back to the party. I tap Jess with my foot, gently, and she stirs. 

Then, I point to the corpse of the fogfae, kept solid by my skills. It’s a tangle of limbs around a strangely twisted, half-crystalline torso. A half dozen arms are laid out next to it. “Butcher it,” I tell her. “I’ll wake Richard. We’re eating tonight.”

[Solidification 8 > 9]

Fae flesh is on the menu.