Magic Breaker Ch 61-63

Chapter 61: Auction

PoV: Opal Kingston - Gem

We make our way inside, picking an open row of seating next to an older looking, floofy gentleperson. I can’t exactly tell what they are, nor does it matter much. The alien eyes me suspiciously for a bit, big eyes widening even further as it recognizes that we’re humans.

“Yepyep,” I say. “Just made it to this floor a few days ago. Got lucky, so we’re on the up ‘n up. Name’s Lapis. Pleasure to meet ya,” I say, holding out a hand. “Ah, shaking hands is a form of greeting where I’m from.”

I put just a little bit of drawl in my voice, and they seemed rather amused by it. Long, slender fingers extend from the fuzz all over their body to shake mine, as they return the greeting. “Baron van Torin,” he says. “You’re human, yes?”

“That’s the one,” I say. “What’s your species named? I haven’t… properly spoken to one yet.”

“Ah, yes. We are known as the zoof.”

A small smile flickers across my face. The floofy zoof. How greatly amusing. I love them already. “An elegant name,” I praise, and the furball seems appeased.

“Quite, indeed. I am pleased to see that this newly integrated species has more refined taste,” he says. 

I snicker, just a bit. “Oh, that’s more of a personal merit,” I say. “Humans come in all shapes and sizes. Some are worthless. Some are worth much. I like to think I’m in the second category.”

“Very well,” the baron says with an amused drawl. “Then I shall compliment your taste in particular. In fact, I shall extend your party an invitation to visit me at my manor. I will be holding a dining party in a week. If you would care to attend, I would be amenable to talk measures of business.”

Huh. How convenient. A week, huh? This could be another avenue to get the floor quest done, but really, I wanna use it as a way to smack as many rich and powerful up the head all at once as I can. A smile on my lips, I nod. “I’m glad to have met a man as yourself, baron. We shall gratefully accept, or at least, hope to attend if the tower permits it.” To sell the bootlicking, I give a small, seated bow, which makes the zoof clap in amusement.

Before his answer comes, though, there is an announcement up front. A pre-show to the auction, introducing the purpose, talking a little about its history. Perfect time for me to zone out. Frankly, I’m already disinterested in more talking.

Lying is fun, but my fingers are itching to do things by now. Thatch pats me on the back empathetically, or maybe as praise for the party thing. I’m glad I lied about my name, really. Baron von Torin. Hah. He won’t know what hit him.

Time ticks by, and I spend it meditating, occasionally looking to Jess and Thatch. The woman looks like a statue hewn from ice, sitting perfectly still. Thatch fidgets more. He is our best negotiator, and he played his part really rather well. It’s my job now to cause some chaos, but he’s clearly nervous.

I put a hand on his shoulder, too, squeezing a bit to help calm him down. He gives me a small smile.

The auction starts in earnest. They bring out the first item, announcing it. “And now, to begin, we have a ring of shaping! This magical trinket will allow you to bend your skills to your whims, introducing more flexibility into the constructs! The bid starts at two-hundred silver chits!”

We don’t bet. Of course we don’t, there’s no way for us to get anything. If we grab something, It’ll have to be in the scramble afterwards. Some rich fop pays way too much for it, and the item is carted away to be taken later.

The second item comes. Then the third, fourth, fifth… It’s almost boring again. Some of the effects are fun. The seventh item is a cool gemstone with some fancy power. I don’t listen, cuz I’d care too much.

Minutes tick by like running water, and I lean into my plush chair, waiting on as the baron bets a few times. A nice pair of boots go to him. I kinda want a nice pair of boots… Shame I can’t steal too much at once.

Eventually, they pull out bigger items. More enchantments, rarer stuff. Raw ingredients for blacksmithing and armoring… It’s neat to see, and I’m sure it’ll be useful, but I’m just not that interested. 

Every moment I spend sitting, I feel that electric need to move and do build up in me. I tap my foot impatiently, leaning forward a little. C’mon. Show me the ant eggs. Show me. I wanna see ‘em. I wanna blink forward and snatch them. I really hope no one’s listening to my thoughts right now.

And no one is. Nothing happens. Another meaningless item of meaningless power passes me by, and then comes a cart. Bingo. Eggs. 

The announcer puts on her usual spiel. “And now, a rare thing indeed! Eggs from a hive. Ant eggs. You all know just how diligent they are, amazing workers and bonded companions. Trackers, workers, constructors, whatever you may need! The bid starts at 10 gold chits!”

I wait. Thatch and Jess tighten, but we don’t move yet. 

Not when people bid, not when people start yelling higher numbers. 20. 30. 50. 65 chits.

That’s what they sell for. I breathe. The eggs get carted back again, and the attendant passes through a curtain, briefly brushing it open.

There.

Mana twists in me, and I squeeze Thatch’s shoulder, letting him know it’s go-time. My skill tears me from the plane, and the world blurs for a moment. When I reappear in the back, I instantly put a hand on the mouth of the startled attendant. 

My sword weaves from sparks of power in my hand, and I lever it at another attendant’s throat. “I’ll be taking the eggs,” I announce, wearing a friendly smile. When I move to do just that, no one stops me. I lift them from the cart. Mana pulses out from it, and a ringing alarm starts blaring.

A grin forms on my face. Showtime.

- - -

Instantly, the atmosphere shifts. I hear the alarm blaring, and the commotion outside. I can also hear the opportunists.

The tower is all about putting yourself above others, so I’m not surprised when rather than security, there are more climbers, decked out in shoddy half-gear pushing through the curtains. I catch the opening, blinking past them, letting them crash into the security in the back.

I take a step back out to the front, and almost catch a fireball to the face. Abilities are already flying, and I whistle, quickly deflecting a sword coming for my face. “Ey! Watch where you point that thing!” I yell, ducking under another. 

Seems like they’re swinging at me on purpose. Ah well. I slash again, using my class-granted skill, [Echo], to leave behind an immaterial slash. Some poor idiot runs into it, netting them a nasty cut on the chest. They’ll probably live, tho.

An ice shard flies by me, nailing someone in the foot, and I [Blink] halfway up the stairs. Two people instantly tumble into me, fists swinging and screaming obscenities at each other. I step back from one swing, then quick rely on my power to toss them both over me, still smashing their faces in while sailing through the air. 

The crash makes me wince, but I’m already [Blinking] past another round of attacks.

Security keeps rushing out from the back and in from the front, but they can’t do jack about shit. Dozens of climbers are blasting their abilities everywhere. Hells, even the baron is involved, throwing illusory golden coins all over the place, smashing into people’s heads. 

He spots me and tosses, yelling at me. “Duck!”

“Goose!” I reply, doing as he asks and lowering my head. The gold splatters against someone who was invisible behind me, sending their body tumbling down the steps, into others. Thatch arrives by my side, smashing his fist into someone’s head. A second later, that same person get my pommel to the stomach, and another kick from Thatch sends them flying, too.

Something small, a beast of some kind, leaps at me and scratches at my face, giving my cheek a couple cuts as I scramble to get it off, before it suddenly drops to the floor, frozen entirely. I hop over some chairs, taking cover from more abilities as Jess joins us, throwing out shards of ice and fireballs. 

“Remain calm, everyone!” comes the blaring announcement from the speakers. “We have-”

I press the eggs into Jess’ hands. “Leave,” I tell her, a wide grin spreading on my face. “I’ll be the distraction.”

Without giving time for any arguing, I grab the nearest mask from someone who passed out, strap it to my face, then [Blink] to the middle of the stage, stabbing my sword through the announcer’s leg. The man screams. “Panic!” I yell into the magic microphone, then give a raucous bout of laughter. “The ironhide bandits are taking this town over!”

My announcement is met with an absolute barrage of magic, dozens of spells flying my way, but I quickly [Blink] up, grabbing hold of a chandelier, and swinging from it. I crash into a flycing scithian, hacking at their crystalline wings while laughing.

Adrenaline pumps through my body. A knife flies at me, and I push off the other humanoid in mid air to avoid it. I look down, and there’s a sword raised to meet me. I [Blink] low, then swipe their feet out from under them. Someone else steps forward, but the [Echo] of the kick knocks them over, too. 

My [Bound Armament] flashes out, now much more nimble with two hands, and I brush two slashes aside, whirling the mass of steel around me to create space. Whenever someone moves in, I just [Echo] a spin and stab forward, drawing blood, making someone crumble, and [Blinking] through the opening.

It’s so fun. Even as a fist meets my face, sending me flying into the wall and making the lacquered mushroom crack as blood streams down my nose. Even as a blinding radiance settles on whoever punched me, burning their skin. Even as a dozen chairs explode into vines that try to grab onto me.

Everything goes to shit. I fight two dozen climbers for brief moments at once. I swing across the ceiling. I take three stabs, and a good ten punches that leave me bruised and my crystalline bones creaking. And then, finally, someone breaks a hold through the wall. In one swift motion, I pull the mask off my head and [Blink] to the outside.

Instantly, I roll on the floor, then look up, smearing blood across my face to look pathetic, and start sprint-limping away. I don’t even really need to fake the limp. I did get stabbed. 

No one questions yet another run-away. By the time people do call my name, it’s from behind me, and I just grin even wider as I [Blink] out of the city.

Complete success. 

I hope I get to steal again soon. Causing havoc is just so fun!

Chapter 62: Compassion

/That newbie is just not made tha’ same as the rest of us! I saw Ion being carried around by a horde of monsters, I tell ye! Not dead, but hale and hearty, commanding them like some kinda fledgling divinity! 

It was a swarm of the blasted buggers, dead eyes staring me down, saying that if I tried to take even a step closer to their saviour, they’d eat me alive. Ran as fast as my legs would carry me ‘n then some. Bounty ain’t worth dying over./

-Gregor Grognose, level 29 Drinker

- - -

The ants carry me back to the colony. Dozens of them were already waiting for us to kill the crawler, and when they saw me limp, a command came through. They asked, first, then when I agreed, lifted me onto their carapaces like a shifting bed beneath me.

I can feel some of the tiny hairs poke through my torn up shirt, already needing a new one. I should figure out self repair soon, really. But the hairs don’t bother me… not too much, at least. Ants aren’t like humans, after all. They asked, first. They’d withdraw if I wanted them to.

Instead, while they scurry about beneath me, I focus on my healing skill, mending my flesh, bit by bit. My wounds hurt, and I think they were most likely more severe than Richard’s, given that she only really took a few scrapes, and I almost lost an arm. 

Ah well. It’s what it’s. Not like it’s too inconvenient. Whether I started healing them back then or now, the mana it takes is still almost the same, after all. 

In the colony, I’m eventually deposited into a chair. It's made from bits of mushroom-wood and some treated spider silk for cushioning. I’m kinda curious to see how furniture is made up on the higher floors. Do people have even higher-levelled jobs there? What could a weaver in their fourth job evolution do?

Curious. 

The ants have arranged an entire room for us, and after some time, Meg comes to visit me and Richard. Despite it being her colony, she knocks on the stone arch, waiting for me to welcome her in before she enters. I appreciate the politeness.

In her humanoid form, she takes a seat across from me. “A task well-completed,” she praises, giving me a chitter of amusement, and a dull glance at my still bleeding arm.

“Seems it,” I say, casting my heal again, leaving my mana at about half full. Just in case I need it, of course. 

“Do you suspect your party members will be back soon?” she asks.

“Opal will be last,” I tell her.

She tilts her head. “Oh? Why is that?”

“They’ll get lost in the fun of it and cause more chaos than needed. Thatch’ll bring back the eggs, and then a while after that, Opal will show up with a few cuts and bruises and yell for me to heal them,” I say calmly. 

Amused, Meg chitters again. “You humans sure are strange critters.”

I smile. “Oh, yes. Humans are real weirdos. Especially the normal ones,” I smile.

“Normal?” she asks.

“Oh, we have categories for typically expected and unexpected behaviours,” I say. “Most of my friends, at least in some ways, are outside the norm.”

“Does anyone perfectly fit the average, expected behaviour?” the queen asks with some interest.

I shake my head. “Nah, not really,” I say. “People are different, after all. Ah, but Inu’s dad is pretty normal, for one.”

“He’s so skittish, though,” Meg giggles. “How is he so afraid of things so much smaller than him?”

“Venom, probably.”

“Ah,” she says. “That does make sense.”

I nod in reply, casting another heal. My flesh knits itself together some more. It’s a strange sensation, the way my muscles writhe. I can feel the wound on my face try to pull at the magic, but I make sure [Selection] is active on the bits it actually works on. My face is a mana-sink and frankly not worth it.

Meg watches me curiously. “Your healing skill, does it work on ants?” she asks. There is a gentle tone to her voice, a tiny quiver that I note. Her compound eyes give away no emotion, but her wringing claw-hands do.

“Dunno,” I reply honestly. “Need me to look at someone?”

“Your wounds are grievous, take care-”

“Nah, I’m good,” I say, raising from my chair. Blood drips down my arm, and from a dozen half-scabbed cuts on my leg. I stretch my shoulders a bit. “Who do you need me to heal?” I ask.

Meg pauses for a long while. “You are… I see. Thank you, Snow. That is kind of you. I’m glad you have such empathy.”

I give her a long, blank look. Empathy? Me? That doesn’t sound quite right. Should I kill her for saying it? Ah, that’d be rude. I smile. “I don’t think I do,” I reply simply. “I just get annoyed when people whine and moan, and pain makes ‘em complain a bunch.”

She stares at me. “You were just… bothered by my conflict?” she asks.

“Sounds about right,” I nod. “There’s a problem. I can probably solve it. Please, point me at the problem, so you no longer have to tiptoe around it. That’s annoying.”

Meg looks at me for another long moment, then chitters an amused laugh. “You humans are so curious.”

I tilt my head. “What’s it got to do with us being human?”

“Oh. You people are so curious, I suppose,” she corrects.

A small smile spreads on my face. “Mh. Yea. People are strange, aren’t they?” For a few seconds, there’s a companionable silence in the small room, decorated for us. Meg seems lost in thought. How troublesome it must be to be a queen. So much responsibility. I look at Richard, sitting on the floor chewing on a few rocks, and smirk. I can barely deal with our little group.

“Point me at the problem, please,” I eventually say, and Meg turns to look at me. 

“Right,” she says, drawing a deep breath, centering herself. “Follow me.”

I nod, and we walk. As we do so, I give a little more thought to her words from before. The reason why I heal people. It’s annoying to investigate, cuz it feels like shit. It sucks to look inward myself and find that yawning emptiness. The lack of care I’ve had for as long as I can remember. 

We turn a corner, and I pick the moment to speak. “I’m not a kind person, you know?” I ask.

Meg turns to look at me, tilting her head. “Are you not?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I try to be a good person, mostly, but I’m not kind.”

The hive queen hums at me for a few moments, walking further. “Does the difference matter?”

“Very,” I say. “It matters so much.”

She looks at me and nods. “I see,” she says. Then she watches me for a little bit. “You want me to speak on this, do you?”

I nod.

Meg nods, then thinks for a few moments. I’ve asked her to philosophize, and she does. Hearing her talking is calming. The thought that I hate too much talk but can find it relaxing to get talked at is amusing.

Eventually, as we walk through another tunnel, the amount of ants around us steadily decreasing, Meg talks. “I care a lot for my children,” she says. “Each and every one of them is family. And yet, at the same time, there are thousands, tens of thousands of them. They are, to some degree, expendable.”

She draws in a breath, clenching her claws. “That kind of mentality is one I try to avoid. It is cruel and callous. It is unfair to all of them. And yet, none would hesitate to sacrifice themselves for one another. I think that dedication is as wonderful as it is tragic.” She gives me a sad smile.

“So, sometimes, my kids die.”

“Does it hurt?” I ask. 

Meg nods. “It does.” She gives me a long look. “Each and every time. It hurts. And I want to do better, to keep them safe, but there is simply no way. Because, at the end of the day, we need resources. We expand, clear caverns, battle with other species for territory. I lay eggs. The colony grows. And on it goes.”

For a while, the ant queen looks at the ceiling, the only noise coming from our steps. “Where does your conflict stem from?” she asks, not looking at me.

I stare at her, considering whether I wanna answer at all. And then, I decide I do. Precisely because she doesn’t care, because I think I could kill her if her answer pisses me off. “It’s that I don’t care,” I say. “When people suffer? I don’t care, in the slightest. I have no empathy for them. I feel nothing. Oh, I can imagine that it must suck for them, but I don’t care. I fix things, selfishly, cuz whining annoys me. I choose to help my friends because it’s the right thing to do.”

That knowledge still sucks to have. “I don’t care for them at all,” I tell her. “I just choose to act in all the ways that seem like I care. I heal them, I fight for them, I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt them. I choose to trust them, but I know all my affection is paper thin. And the worst part?”

“They know, too.”

I take a deep breath, then repeat it. “They know, too.” I smile. “Isn’t that silly? These people, Inu, Thatch, Opal and Sylves, each one so amazingly precious. And they choose to stick around me, despite knowing that I wouldn’t cry if they died. Tragic.”

The ant queen looks at me, and chitters. I cannot quite place the noise, this time, some emotion that doesn’t really make sense. “My species doesn’t have tear ducts,” she replies. 

It’s so ridiculous that it makes me snort a laugh. “Right, right. You can’t cry, either, huh?”

Meg sighs softly. “No,” she says. “I cannot.” And then, she smiles. “But that’s fine. I think showing care is what matters most. You may not feel it in the same way as most, but your actions show care. Your actions are kind.” She smiles. “You’ve thought about killing me, too, and not done it.”

Ah. Caught me. I give an awkward smile. “... Oops?” 

She smiles in reply. “No trouble. I thought of killing you, too, after all.” 

Amusingly, I don’t even begrudge her that. The talk of murder, somehow, lightens the dreary mood, and we look forward. I’m glad I brought it up, even if her words don’t change my feelings. It sucks to be like this sometimes, but… oh well! I’ll live. And knowing myself is still important. 

Heh. Maybe if I know myself well enough I’ll get [Introspection] or something. Actually… that would be kinda awesome to see more of what is going on inside my body. Good thinking, Snow! 

We halt in front of a solid wall of stone. I look at it, the stop interrupting my silly train of thought. I take a deep breath. The ants thinking of killing us isn’t surprising. Our alliance is, at the end of the day, one born out of convenience. Yet, when I look at Meg, I think that by now, perhaps, she trusts us more. 

Why, I wonder. I’m still using them as a tool, just to get to Philia, the paladin. But that’s okay, the ants are using us, too. Perhaps, if we’re friends, I shouldn’t track favours like this. A small smile spreads on my lips. 

“It appears this is a dead end,” I tell the queen.

She smiles, ever so faintly, mimicking my expression, then taps the wall. “This, dear Snow, is a hidden wall.”

That’s awesome. I love hidden walls. So sneaky. “Very cool,” I say, as she taps her claw against it, and the stone door rotates. It opens into a room of ants, chittering, crawling all about, entering and leaving via a half dozen tunnels. All over the room there are a few ants, each one injured, most being tended to.

My target isn’t hard to pick out. 

A massive ant, thrice the size of the regular ones, lays in the middle of the room, a deep rent in its carapace, leaking ichor and venom. I look at the queen as the ants turn to stare at me.

She waits for a moment. “That is our hive’s strongest warrior and my first child, Elis,” Meg says. “Please, Snow. Save her.”

Chapter 63: Practice

I walk forward slowly, ants streaming around my legs, a parting river of chitin. None touch me, and I’m grateful. I don’t want to be touched, for a little while. The feeling of my shoes is already bad enough, though it’s better than bare feet on stone. Slowly, I kneel by the massive warrior’s side.

Elis weakly turns her head to meet my eyes, chittering an unsure groan. Her wounds look even worse from up close. There are dozens of tiny bites, each leaking purple, and multiple more large rents in the carapace. The ant is, and must have been for a while, dying. Infection clings to the wounds, feeding off the warrior.

Meg kneels next to me, bending all four of her legs. She turns her insectoid head towards me, and despite the lack of expression on her face, I can feel the worry off of her. “Can you?” she asks.

“Dunno,” I answer honestly. “I’ll try, but before I do, I need to be completely honest. I’ve never used my healing skill on anything that’s not humanoid. It worked on Richard, but it’s limited. I can’t yet give Sylves her arm back. I don’t know how well it’ll work on ants. If a cast fails, there’s a good chance of making a wound worse.”

The hive queen draws in a sharp breath. “I see,” she says. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s hopeless,” I say. “I’d just rather try it first on some ants that are at less danger of dying if I mess up.”

She nods, slowly, and I move until I sit next to a worker with a few smaller cuts in the underside of her carapace. This new ant looks at me soundlessly, clicking her mandibles a few times. I just wait as Meg talks to her. Pheromones are still beyond my understanding.

Eventually, the hive queen turns to me. “She is willing,” she says.

I nod. On the walk, I regenerated a good chunk of mana. Some of it went to my wounds, but a good amount of it is still in my core. Now, it’s time to put it to use. I [Select] the ant, focusing on the wounds, and get to work.

The world drains away a bit as I focus. I take a breath. [Flesh Restoration] activates slowly, almost sluggish, like a hibernating bear. It licks at the wounds in the carapace, and tells me that it’s not flesh. I assure the skill that it is.

We have a little debate, and the mana takes some coaxing to take hold.

Instantly, the carapace rips open. The ant writhes in agony, and Meg looks horrified. Ichor leaks out of it. Hmmmm, not that kinda modification, then. I give a soft sigh, pulling on [Deconstruction] to aid me with this.

A half-cast of [Flesh Restoration] that I take apart with my own skill lets me identify a few issues. I nod, affirmed in what I need to do, and modify the pattern of the skill. Fewer loops in the spiral, more arching branches. Trade depth for breadth, just for now. I hold it in my mind, and cast it again. The carapace mends shut, but the injured flesh underneath does not.

I stab a needle of mana in, letting the ichor escape instead of building up. More modifications, and the spongy flesh beneath is knitting back up, too. I hum, displeased. “This one’s healed,” I announce. “Let me try on another.”

Meg stares at me, somewhere between impressed and horrified. Despite that, she wordlessly leads me to another ant. This one heals without trouble. One more, where I make things a lot worse before stitching it back up again.

It’s almost fun. Would it help to take apart a dead ant? I’d probably understand their anatomy better. Ah, the look on the queen’s face tells me not to try it. No, I’ll just learn with trial and error. I wish I had my headphones, but my phone’s out. The thought tastes bitter, but I focus.

Another explosion of ichor leaking from an ant’s side. But I close the wounds back up. Looks of fear and admiration are leveraged against me, but none of them matter. After my third mishap, I don’t make any more. When I’ve healed up three ants in a row without a mistake, I stretch. That should do.

[Flesh Restoration 5 > 6] 

My skill agrees, apparently, and I kneel down next to the warrior ant, Elis. She looks at me again. I tilt my head. Her face is… unusually blank. 

When I [Select] her, I’m curious, so I try to find out how she’s feeling, and there is just grim resolve. Ah. She thinks I might kill her. I smile a little. I could. Should I? 

No. Gingerly, I reach out a hand, tracing the wounds in her carapace. The ant stares at me. I cast a heal, pressing the formation to give it more depth, to accept more mana and do more with it, to be more efficient. The skill bubbles against the flesh, fizzling and hissing, then splutters out.

I hum in thought. How curious. I pull out my mana crystal. “Meg? Have your children fill this, please. They can transmit their mana to me that way, and I’ll need a lot of it.”

This is gonna be a long day.