Magic Breaker Ch 73-75 [B1 End! B2 Start!]

Chapter 73: Ascension Well

PoV: Snow Okiyama – Ion 

I exit one of the tunnels, coming across a clearing, full of people. There are zoof, scithians, sumeen, hiy’ht, wulven, and humans. Tents made of cloth, dried hides, sheets of mushroom, and even small stone huts are set up, powered by all kinds of abilities.

The hum of magic is dense in the air, and I have to hold back on breaking a few of them, just to see what they’re about. Instead, I pick at scraps. Abilities that are already ending, picking up on the tiny pieces of them that are left as residue in the air.

Inu and Thatch do what they’re best at, spreading out and engaging with people, talking and getting us info. Sylves approaches the most dangerous looking groups and offers them bits of our food as “insurance”. That girl is devious. I love it.

I’m curious to see where that class will go. What other fae skills can she get? Looking at the well, we decide to rest for a day. By we, I mean Opal, who plops onto their back with a long sigh, and asks Dar for a blanket. The wulven proves with a snort, giving out a piece of fabric woven up by Amelie.

Jess starts a campfire, and Richard begins cooking. There are other hiy’ht who approach her, chittering in tones that don’t translate via the system, but she waves them off. “Go,” she says calmly, quietly. “I’ve decided to stick with this hive.”

For a moment, it looks like a fight will break out, but then, another hiy’ht waves a small claw, and the critter scampers back to their group. The insectoids tend to cluster together a little. Some kind of hive structure?

Another wulven instantly challenges Dar, and he accepts, while Opal watches, sprawled out on the floor. Jess hums a tune to herself quietly, cleaning the flesh off of bits of chitin and monster claws, before handing them off to Bay.

Our engineer already has a pair of slapdash goggles on her face, focussed on a crafting project, preparing more traps to deploy. Apparently, her job is granting her quick assembly skills, and her class has some amount of special storage for them. So, in a way, she’s become a small walking armory.

Norman sits in the corner. He doesn’t talk much, a little withdrawn, but he watches everyone intently. I notice his eyes flick to little letters all over the place. Has he gotten some kind of sense for it? Someone tries to approach me, and I knock on the stone beneath me. His eyes flick over, and he rasps out a small laugh, pulling me into [Unassuming].

Instantly, most everyone loses interest in me, and I continue watching. As Amelie tinkers with her wheelchair and her puppets, making sure they’re properly strung together and ready for action, while chatting with Sylves. I watch as Opal pulls the blanket tighter around themselves, trying to avoid chatting with an annoying kid. I watch as Dar throws another wulven to the floor and roars his triumph.

All of it… brings a smile to my face.

We’ve become a bit of a party, now. With roles and everything. Inu and Thatch talking with the others, gathering info about challenges, Norman and me slinking off into the corner, unnoticed. Bay tinkering, Jess and Richard making edible food from all the monster parts, Sylves causing trouble, Amelie politely turning down questions about her legs from strangers. 

There’s a harmony to it all.

Someone stumbles out of the well, bloody. It’s a hiy’ht, their blue-green skin covered in cuts. Two arms are missing, both from the elbow down, and they’re passed out on the floor. I watch in curiosity as a groggy man stumbles over, picking up the body despite protests from the hive.

More people go to placate the insectoids as the man kneels and pours his pathetic mana into a healing spell. He’s slow, unfocused, looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but it’s the best they have, apparently. Slowly, the wounds knit closed, to my surprise. I flick my senses against him. He’s so tired, he doesn’t even notice.

[Healer, lv. 27]

Ah, someone with an epitaph then. Perhaps one related to restoring others. I look more closely at his spells, trying to see what makes them different from mine. Sylves taps against the rock I sit on.

She smiles, brightly, at me. “Hey Snow. Stop.”

I tilt my head. “Huh?”

“Stop looking so serious!” she chides, happily, floating near me. It’s not at all what she meant, and we both know it. I’d be annoyed if it was. But I get the request. “Sit with us. Relax a little.”

That’s the actual bit she cares about. I breathe in for a long moment, feeling my heart thrum in my chest, the way my vessel presses into my sternum. It feels tight and hot, like I’m trying to push too much electricity through a too-small cable. Whenever I push mana into skills, it becomes easier, but I s’pose I can pause that if Sylves wants me to.

Sighing gently, I get up from my comfy rock, and pull out a few of the chits we have. Tower coins, so lovely and smooth. I run my thumb across them, enjoying the sensation and letting it anchor me, as I sit on the floor with the group, and listen.

The topics are… mundane.

Inu talks nothing of what she heard of the well, but instead chats about school. Her style, her friends, how they might be doing. Jess smiles as she watches her daughter, that icy face crumbling slightly. Norman looks on with longing, as if he didn’t belong.

I signal to Opal, and the enby smiles brightly, then nods once. They grab Norman’s arm and drag him into the circle around the fire with us. Thatch flashes him a look, then smiles brightly and nods once. Jess gives a small smile at that, too. 

Bay rambles to me about her creations as long as I let her, even though Sylves keeps trying to nudge her into highschool stories. I do learn that Thatch’s mom had a rather rebellious streak, running from home and living with a runaway fam for a while. That’s how she got her first tattoo, made with a sewing needle and crappy ink based on an internet recipe.

It’s faded, but it’s a little glyph on her ribs, reminding her of that time. Sylves very quickly averts her eyes with a small screech and a blush when Bay lifted her shirt, and I quietly snicker at that. Everyone laughs, and Sylves joins in, too. 

An hour passes in quiet calm, until I feel that heat in my chest grow too uncomfortable and channel some mana into pointless exercises. They’re second nature by now, threading it through the maze until I come to the tricky part, or constructing tiny little exercises behind me.

When another wounded person comes through the well, I’m almost grateful. The tired man walks over again, stumbling, but I get there before him. He looks at me, confused, when the wounds start to close up. There’s a few gasps, but I ignore them.

I sigh contentedly as the energy leaves my vessel. The pressure disappears as half of my mana washes out of me and into the wulven’s body. I look to the tired healer. “Do you usually charge for this?” I ask.

He nods. “Yea,” he says, voice dry and cracked, and he coughs. “Usually, we ask for a minor request. Or, if someone doesn’t have that, a couple of silver chits. Nothing big.”

Smiling, I look at the person on wulven on the floor, poking her. “You heard him. A minor request. Ask for a refilling waterflask.”

Finally, I shall get my hands on one to take apart. And for almost free, too! 

When I return with my prize, and instantly start taking it apart, pouring more mana into [Deconstruction], the others seemingly find it very amusing. I’m glad they can laugh. 

Slowly, second by second, we enjoy our triumph, even as it winds down. People start going to sleep. Thatch and I share Dar as a pillow. Thatch hides away the painting materials he bought while covered in a thin blanket, his [Rage] keeping him warm. Inu just sleeps in full armor, unbothered. Jess and Richard stay close to the fire, and Norman wraps a blanket around himself, while Sylves floats on a cushion of wind, sleeping mid-air.

One by one, they fall asleep. I take a breath, looking over the members of my party, and feeling… pleased. We’ve really come a long way.

And tomorrow? 

Tomorrow that way leads up.

Chapter 74: Going Up

There is someone next to me. I can’t see them, but there is, and when I reach out, they move away. 

It’s bizarre. So, I close my eyes. The feeling of their presence grows fainter, a tiny whisper at the back of my mind, yet I’m sure they’re there. I just woke up, and they were watching me. There was the whisper of violence against my neck. I take a deep breath and focus, grasping that sliding distance.

I hone in on it, and instead of letting it slip from my awareness, I grab it with my mind. I notice, I react, I reach out. I stand up with closed eyes and step after the thread. Slowly, almost gently, I try to [Select] it, but my skill slips off.

But that doesn’t matter. I’ve found it - until it shifts and vanishes. A frown spreads on my face, and I focus. I scan the area, and let a curtain of [Suppression] fall like gentle rain. 

Something shifts in it, and I focus, hone in, as [Selection] streaks out, trying to latch on and slipping away. I reach out again, controlling the tether manually, stepping closer. They move through the drizzle of my other ability, faster now. Running? Running. 

Not that they’ll get away. I’m sure Thatch has already found them, but that’s okay. I push aside some random guy, stepping towards that thread, a half dozen instances of [Selection] flickering outward and wrapping around them like a web. They shift, flicker, disappear and step through them.

Again. And again. They dance at the edge of my awareness, and I reach out one more time. Pouring in more mana into suppressing their ability, but they shift, and dodge my ephemeral skill. Again, they vanish, and again, I adjust.

Slowly, I focus. There are means of detecting people, and I walk through them. Disturbance in my [Suppression] works, but there are more. I can feel their mana, too, which doesn’t work. What about footsteps? Silent. Heartbeat? Faint, but there. 

I sharpen my senses, taking another step and reaching out, as they duck under my hand. Something like playful panic plays out. I grab again, grasping nothing but empty air. Annoyed, I focus more.

Everyone around the ascension well is filtered out, until only the thread remains. The faint rhythm of a heart beating… except, then, why are there two? I [Select] the second one, and there is a moment of surprise as the first stops moving. Both of them are in my grip. Instantly, my [Suppression] slams down like a vice.

[Selection 9 > 10]

“Got you,” I whisper, then open my eyes.

[New Skill acquired!]

[Observation 0 > 1]

My hand reaches out to that faint spot in reality where my eyes tell me there’s empty air. But there’s more, I know. [Observation] tells me as much. My hand wraps around a throat, and then, another hand wraps around mine. It’s dry and warm, almost hot to the touch.

“Do not harm this one, human,” a hiy’ht says, blue body slowly fading into view. “Or the hive will fall upon you.”

I squeeze their neck, slowly tilting my head. “Is your hive looking to die?”

At that, a shiver runs through the critter, yet they laugh. “Bahaha! No, no. We are not.”

Another hand closes around mine. Larger, firmer, clawed nails scraping against my skin. “Let go,” another hiy’ht warns me. The one on the floor has six calm, grey eyes, is diminutive in stature, stick thin and limber. The new one is larger, wider, stronger, with fire-red eyes and thick plates of chitin.

I look at the warrior, then the chameleon, and then I turn my head at the illusionist, who kept my [Selection] from finding their rogue. My head spins with murder-math. Can I take the whole hive? Do I wanna try?

Ah, I shouldn’t kill. Slowly, I let go, deciding to be the bigger person. They did also let me earn a new skill. [Observation]. Another piece in my toolkit, probably even overdue. A testament to my growing mana senses.

“Why were you watching me sleep?” I ask.

The grey-eyed one smiles. “My name’s Chameleon!” they say. “You’re strong. So I watch you! Make sure you don’t decide to murder my hive. Otherwise, I slit your throat in your sleep,” they say, cheerily. “And then, you noticed! So, we play fun game of tag. You skilled at tag!”

My anger fades. I step back once more, then nod. “You too,” I say. Then, I turn around and head back to my group, ignoring the warrior and the illusionist, even as Chameleon happily waves after me. 

Instead, I sit down with the others, accepting the breakfast Sylves hands me. I eat it, and it feels more filling than it ought to be. Curiously, I ask her a question. “What’s your class skill called, Sylves?”

She puts a hand on her cheek, smiling, acting flustered. “How forward of you, Snow. Asking a faerie for her secrets…” I roll my eyes, and after a small chuckle, she gives an actual reply. “It’s [Hospitality]. I can choose to enforce the rules, and I wanted to see if I can decide to truly grant, well, hospitality. I can. The food becomes magically more filling. Which stacks with the buffs from Richard’s job. Isn’t it lovely?” 

I nod. “Yeah, it is,” I say calmly. The food tastes better, and I feel the texture adjust to be less upsetting. None of it makes me feel like dying. It’s nice.

“Yeah, it’s lovely, thank you Sylves,” Inu readily agrees. 

The [Fairy] brightens at our praise, throwing Inu a beaming smile, and blowing her a kiss. I smile, just a little, at their antics. We eat the rest of the meal, and then take a moment to dust off. The wulven Dar fought has already headed into the ascension well, and maybe even gone to the next floor.

Looking over at the golden circle, I brush off the crumbs once more and get to my feet. “Alright, everyone. I’ll head up now,” I say. One by one, they get up, and step forwards. 

“Let’s do it,” Thatch says, firming his resolve.

“Finally. I was getting tired of waiting,” Opal yawns, sword on their shoulder.

Inu checks her armor. Sylves floats, hiding her nervousness. Bay rotates through her bombs. Amelie gathers all her puppets. Jess stares at the circle with an icy gaze, Richard inhales the last scraps of food, Dar grins ferally, and Norman slinks to our side. 

Then, with one last nod, we step into the well. The prompt, ever so familiar, appears.

[Ascend?]

The tower asks, and I answer. “Yes.”

[Challenge: Willing Sacrifice. You break, you take, you vow to prevail, but can you give what that entails?]

The world around me shimmers. Everyone else disappears, except me… and Sylves. She floats there, in the air, reading a message I cannot see as mine falls apart into stardust. Slowly, the rippling world reconstitutes itself. Two chairs, and a table in the middle, placed opposite each other.

Sylves looks at me and pales. I look back at her, calm as always. I see her nervousness. Her fear. I [Observe] the way her fingers shake on her remaining arm. The way she clenches them into a fist, and, despite everything, smiles. “Snow,” she says, her voice forcibly calm, a cool breeze brushing over my skin. “Shall we?” she asks, pointing at the table.

I nod, and then pull out the chair. It tries to shift to suit me, to become more comfortable, but I banish that from my mind, letting the system only exist based on assumptions about what I might like, rather than morphing. I do not need to be comfortable.

Sylves sits down. The wind stops holding her afloat, and it feels like a mask is slowly sliding off her face. Not a fake mask, but one that she wants to look like, but that nonetheless takes effort to wear. Floating all the time must be exhausting. 

We wait for half a heartbeat, then a page appears in the middle of the table. Sylves snatches it, scared. She lost her arm in the last ascension well. I know she’s brave, but I also know she’s terrified, deep down. Of losing control. 

Her eyes scan the paper, and she looks at me. A dawning horror. I just wait. Her eyes widen, her pulse quickens. Gently, calmly, I ask. “What does it say?”

She places the paper down and pushes it towards me, but I ignore it, looking at her. Those shaky brown eyes. She swallows. “We must make a sacrifice. An adequate one, deemed such by the tower. One equivalent to what I’ve already lost.” She looks at the missing arm, wriggling the stump.

Then, slowly she turns to me. I see the way she’s scared. Losing an arm must have been hard on her. Almost dying must have been hard on her. I take a deep breath, then lean forward and place a hand on her - intact - shoulder, and she flinches a little.

“Sylves, look at me,” I say, slowly, calmly. She does, tearing her eyes away from my hand with some effort. She looks at me. I smile, gently, as warmly as I can manage, a smile that I’ve practiced a thousand times to put people at ease. “I got this.”

All at once, I see her shoulders slump. “I can’t ask that of you, Snow,” she says, whisper-quiet. 

“You asked nothing,” I said. Slowly, my smile turns genuine. The fun kind. The kind that feels honest. “This is my Hospitality.”

She blinks. Then, gently, quietly, laughs. That same pearl-like, honest laugh that she always does. It’s undignified, and there’s tears running down her cheek, but she laughs.

“‘Sides,” I say. “It’s not like it’s an arm and a leg.”

At that, she laughs more, harder. “You’re an idiot, Snow,” she says, still laughing.

I summon a dagger and cut off my arm.

Blood splatters onto the table. I pick up my fallen arm from the floor, and place it down on the wood. Calmly. Sylves looks. “Close your eyes,” I tell her, and after a moment, she does. The blood pours from my stump and the limb I’ve cut off, and I pour mana into my wound, knitting it closed, slowly but surely.

The tide of crimson stems. It hurts, but that’s okay. The tower asked for a sacrifice, so I let the blood spill. I endure the pain. I don’t even stop smiling. The dagger of mana vanishes, and I reach out to ruffle Sylves’ hair. “Just a couple more moments, and we’ll be up, alright?”

“Alright,” she nods, and the smile stays on her face. “Thank you, Snow.” The morbidity of it all isn’t lost on her, but she’s levitating just a little again. A familiar pattern of safety, one that keeps her going. One that lets her look at my arm and accept it. One that lets her feel the blood pool against the soles of her boots and accept it.

It’s helpful, even if it’s cruel. But that’s fine. Gently, I watch as the blood from my arm turns into light. It envelops Sylves, accepting my sacrifice, deeming it worthy. It accepts my pain, my willingness, my triumph over a cruel trial.

So what if I’ve lost an arm? Growing it back will be good practice to make sure I can get it right on Sylves. More blood. More light. More pain. 

Until, finally, the words grace me.

[Challenge Completed. Ascend.]

The light wraps around me, and I pour mana until my vessel is empty. My shoulder scabs over, the wound closing. The challenge is done. There’s a hint of intuition flaring in my chest.

“Hey, tower? Spend one minor request to tell me who influenced this challenge.”

[Accepted. The Deceptive Manipulator has spent one ascended request to craft this challenge.]

A grin sprouts on my lips. It’s nothing like the gentle smile I had for Sylves. No, this one’s violent, angry. 

They scared my friend. “What was it that my other epitaph offered? An eye for an eye?” Yeah. An arm for an arm. Fear for fear. 

My mind is made up. Another Eye to pluck from the Sky.

Respitia the Pure. The Deceptive Manipulator. Flametouched.

Just you fucking wait. I’m coming for you.

With my mind made, I gently let the anger flow away, and embrace the light. The second floor, after all, beckons. And, outside of all the hate, I’m just really curious what it will be.

Ahhh. I wanna see how it all works.

I’ll scale the tower, and take it all apart. 

With that thought, the light takes me, and I ascend.

- - -

End of Magic Breaker Book 1: Ruthless Calling

- - -

Beginning of Magic Breaker Book 2: Monstrous

- - -

Chapter 75: Second Floor

The sky of the second floor is full of Eyes. Less than back on Earth, but still plenty of them. Most here are larger, humongous observers. They also feel closer, less distant.

Sylves sits in the grass in front of me, running her fingers through it, taking deep breaths. I sit down next to her. Her blonde hair seems to float a little wind the faint wind. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t look at the slow, steady stream of scarlet still trickling from the stump where my right arm once was. 

Left eye. Right arm. Symmetry maintained, I joke, dully, to myself.

Instead of worrying, I reach out with my good hand and ruffle the girl’s hair. “You having a fun time, Ms. fairy?” I ask.

She doesn’t turn to me. “Trying,” she replies, shakily. Ah, it must have hit her hard, then.

“Okay,” I reply. “You’re safe.”

At that, a tiny smile blossoms on her face. “Of course I am,” she says. “I’m a fairy.”

I smile, just a little. Then, finally satisfied with her safety, I let my gaze sweep across the plains of the second floor. I’m curious what it has in store for us - and whether the floors are only sceneries or also provide their own challenges.

After all, the tower wants us to prove skill and, well, supremacy. So, there should be challenges. In due time, the notifications appear.

[Congratulations!]

[You have made it to the second floor! For your performance in the ascendancy well, you have acquired 1 minor request.]

Just payback for the one I used to find out who was behind the trial, behind my lacking arm. I sigh, softly. There’s a bubbling anger in my chest, and I understand it. I want revenge, but at the same time, I need a bigger stick to hit people with, first. So, instead, I drown the anger in apathy. 

There is an upside to it all. I needed to experiment with body modification and full limb restoration anyway. So, really, it was just a matter of time. 

Yeah, I’m gaslighting myself. That’s okay, too.

Sylves lays down in the grass, closing her eyes so she doesn’t see the voyeuristic sky. The second floor is mostly that - wide, open plains of grassland. It’s rather hilly, and there is a distant fog, making it difficult to see too far, but the floor itself seems calm, for now.

Every so often the ground shakes, but the girl ignores it, simply dragging her fingers through the grass and enjoying the wind in an attempt to forget about all the horror. The fighting, the death, the killing. We’re both murderers now, which is a strange thought.

I wonder, distantly, if Sylves had been one before the apocalypse. She smiles, faintly, then, finally, looks at me, as I look at her. Our eyes meet. Mine dark, hers bright. “Thanks, Snow,” she says. 

“Anytime,” I reply.

At that, she burst out into a giggle, that eventually turns into a full fledged laugh. It chimes brightly across the hills. “You don’t even know what I’m thanking you for!” she chides. 

“Okay, continue,” I say.

She rolls over, laying on her stomach, leaning her chin on her one remaining hand, and gives me a smile. “Thanks for letting me feel safe.”

“Anytime,” I nod.

Again, she laughs, then rolls her eyes at me. A long moment passes in silence, and I feel the building pressure in my vessel, pouring some mana into more healing, fully closing my arm, and making the side of my face where my skull is exposed itch. 

Sylves stares at the bit of bone poking out. Slowly, gently, her smile fades, as if carried away on some invisible breeze. The moment turns from bittersweet to sombre. “Does it hurt?” she asks.

I shrug. “Yeah, it does,” I say. 

“How much?”

I look at my shoulder. “About as much as an arm and a leg,” I deadpan.

At that, the girl shakes her head at me, rolling in the grass again, and staring at the sky. She raises her hand in front of her face, blocking out the Eyes far above. “Y’know, I love the sun.”

A small smile spreads on my face. “I know,” I say.

“And the wind. And the grass. Stupid caves were so boring I wanted to throw up. Bleeegh,” she intones, sticking out her tongue. 

“You’re talkative again,” I note.

Sylves looks at me, then pouts. “Yeah, I am,” she says, loudly, chiding me. “So what, huh! What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll listen,” I reply. “And feel glad that you’re not doing as bad.”

She smiles, wistfully. “No,” she says, dropping all pretense. “I’m not doing that well. I’m not doing poorly, either. Not like Thatch or Inu. They’re struggling. I’m cruel, Snow.”

“Are you?” I ask.

The fae nods. “My first skills. [World’s Embrace], of course, was the first. It’s freedom. It’s nature. It’s wind and air and grass.”

“Sure,” I agree.

“I’ve not used the second one,” she says, calmly. “Wanna know what it’s called?”

“Absolutely,” I say.

“[Violent Trick],” she says. “That’s who I am. A violent liar beloved by the world.” 

I nod. “Okay.”

She stares at me. “That’s all you have for me?” she asks. “An okay?”

Once more, I reach out, then ruffle her hair again. “Yeah,” I say, calmly. I look at her. “We’re friends, after all. So it’s okay. Thatch is angry. Opal is careless. Inu is harsh on herself. And you’re a liar.” I smile. “What’s so wrong with that?”

Before she can reply, the portal behind me shimmers, and someone else passes through the ascendancy well. Instantly, as the magic work’s, I see the mask fall on Sylves’ face again. The tears vanish with the wind, and her disgust washes away at once.

It’s not someone we know. A random girl, with a bow in her hands. She looks at me, then at Sylves with the kind of frown that needs to be permanently etched into one’s face. Her armor is made from leather, and her brown hair barely reaches her chin. Wings of green crystals stretch behind her back. “First time?” she asks.

I nod, staring at her. 

The woman sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She looks at us, and I feel mana brushing against me. I frown, just a little, then return the favour.

[Unseen Archer, lv. 68]

Surprise flitters across her face. “Huh,” she says. “I should be annoyed, but that’s an uncommon trick for first timers to pick up. I’m Zeph. Don’t tell me your names,” she says, holding out a hand. She points at me. “You’ll be Cold,” she says, then points to Sylves, “and you’ll be Windy. Now, since we’re fellow climbers, and you’re newly integrated, I’m gonna do my due diligence.”

“Let me tell you what the second floor is about.”