Magic Breaker Ch 22-24

Chapter 22: Aliens

The arrow in my shoulder pins me to the tree behind me.

It was shot with a lot of force, too, having penetrated rather deep into the wood. It hurts, so bad.

Jess screams. There’s a roar in the distance. My heartbeat speeds up. Adrenaline courses through my veins.

A second passes, and Inu is in front of me. Another arrow goes into her arm, but stops before piercing through. She grunts, but I can tell that her [Resistance] is helping her. 

Opal is already on their feet, wielding a sword, while Richard stands there, stunned, staring at the wound in my shoulder. “Don’t hurt the blue one!” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear.

There is no hesitation in Opal, who instantly changes course to charge into the darkness at the edge of our clearing. It takes Amelie a little longer to react and send her puppets after our knight. Norman appears next to me.

“Snow.” His words are bitter, and I look at him. “This’ll hurt.”

I [Suppress] my pain, pouring my refilled mana into it. Norman grabs the arrow and breaks it off. I move forward, feeling the shaft, made from bone, slide against the inside of my shoulder. It burns, but my face remains neutral.

Then, I stand up. “Help Inu,” I say. Already, I twist my mana into that horrid, botched healing spell, restoring some mobility to my arm. It’s a bit better than the last time I cast it, even though it takes a chunk of my mana.

Still. I’m not scared. There are sounds of fighting out there. Opal grunting, Thatch and Bay sprinting after them, Jess reading a spell to fire into the darkness. I solidify a piece of mana as I jog off myself. 

It’s hard to see, but I strain my eyes. Can I enhance them with mana? I push a little bit into them, and it’s crude, but it does make the world just a little clearer. Just clear enough to see a figure drawing back a bow. 

Instantly, my [Selection] reaches forward, the ethereal tendril wrapping around the bowstring. Then, [Suppression] follows, and suddenly, it snaps. I smile. The creature holding it is big, covered with fur. It has a wolfish face, with a look of ferocity on it, but no anger.

Rather than furious or hungry, those eyes are frighteningly intelligent. It barks a few words at me that equate to some kind of insult of my power. Not strength, not at all, but just general fighting capability. 

I swap the target of [Suppression] and the wolf-alien kneels. Opal steps from the shadows, their sword swiftly descending to cut his head off. “Another to my right,” they say. “Fifteen steps.”

[Suppression] reaches out, finding a target, and I squeeze. The alien stumbles under newfound weight, and that precious second is all Opal needs. [Bound Armament] cuts down yet another creature. 

The forest grows a little brighter when one of the wolf-things throws a fireball. Then, from behind me, Richard jumps up into the air, and swallows it.

Just bites the flames, chomping them, her cheeks growing slightly in that hamster-like way. I look at her, she looks at me.

“Thank you for the meal,” she says, politely.

I nod. “Happy to help,” I say.

At that, she smiles. Her mouth isn’t filled with teeth, not properly. It’s more… engine like? A circular opening with spinning little turbine-things all over its sides, powered in equal amounts by matter and heat. 

“We hunt, my friend,” she says.

“Sure,” I confirm. 

Then, Richard opens her mouth, and a torrent of fire floods out. The heat pushes against my skin, blazing, and it even generates some wind, blowing my hair back. The sudden violence surprises me, but as the fires light the fur of a wolf-thing ablaze, Richard’s move seems reasonable.

My axe whips out, putting the burning beast down. I get ready to fight more, but the mood in the forest changes.

There is an enormous roar, and the sound of violence. Claws slamming into steel. The roar isn’t anger, it’s a challenge. A duel. I can almost hear Opal grin. “I accept!” comes the answer.

Instantly, the fighting dies.

The wolf creatures that were injured simply get up and withdraw. I get a better look at them, now. They’re tall, all around six feet or more, even with their slightly hunched backs, and wide. They seem strong. Their faces are snouts, like wolves, but they seem to have two maws in one. An upper and a lower one. 

Also, they have tails. And bone-spikes along the ridges of their back, and down to the tip of their tails. They seem almost a little reptilian, the bits of skin that aren’t covered in fur instead full of tiny scales. Do they have scales beneath the fur too?

Opal grunts in pain and the realization strikes me that I should probably be helping them.

I walk forward, and the wolves watch me warily. Eyes trailing me. Some of them have two, some have four eyes, and their tails move a little, as if in anticipation. I move forward until I see the fight, and notice Thatch already standing there, watching.

There is a ring of wolf-aliens around Opal and a bigger wolf-thing. Seven feet of hunched muscle, bound by fur. The creature has four eyes, one a set of blazing red, the other more orange. It does not wield a weapon, but it’s clearly a creature of skill.

Opal and the wolf dance around each other. My friend slashes out with their sword, and the wolf uses long claws to catch and counter the blows. The alien is wearing something, though. A fingerless glove, almost, leaving their claws out but protecting their palms in layers of metal and leather.  

I hear the ringing of steel on steel, watching the way the wolves are hungrily looking on. The aliens seem strong, physically, but not ignorant of their skills. They are just as intelligent as humanity, or at least reasonably similar, I’m sure. 

Gently, as quietly as I can make it, I reach out to one of them with [Selection]. No one raises an eye. There is no reaction. For now, I just want to observe their chanting, learn their language, but… well, just in case. Just in case, of course. 

Another clash goes by in the blink of an eye. Metal grinds against metal, Opal’s blade knocked aside, and claws coming up to rend them. Mana moves within the wolf, and the other aliens are cheering for it. 

The strike moves faster, suddenly, propelled by some invisible force. Opal just barely brings their blade up, batting it off line, but not before the claws demand their pound of flesh.

Long, scarlet lines bloom on their side, the red contrasting against their dark skin. I watch as my friend, one of the few people I care for, bleeds. Opal steps back, looking at me, and shooting me a smile. Still, imperceptibly, they nod.

I don’t smile. My face remains entirely calm. But despite it, another tendril sneaks out. This time, I probe a wolf at the other side of the circle. No one notices. They all still chant for victory. 

At that, I focus. Richard notices as she stands by me, eyeing the wolves. Watching with all those eyes of hers as a tendril of my mana sneaks out onto the battlefield… and connects to Opal.

I’ve been curious. If my [Suppression] works on pain, what else does it work on? Logically, suppressing pain is a buff, right? Can I suppress fear? Suppress weakness? I try it, just for a second.

My friend’s grimace vanishes as the pain softens. That usage I’m familiar with. I can feel the way the mana twists and turns inside of me, changing to do as I ask it to. It sneaks into Opal, letting them move a bit faster, focus a little bit more. 

I have used it [Suppress] my need for sleep, too, haven’t I. Can I do that on Opal? I try it, and the effect goes through, if a little diminished. But the vestiges of sleep vanish from their face, eyes clearing up just a bit more.

The effects are small, but important. The wolf moves again, blazingly fast, using that skill of its. What level is it, I wonder. Nine? Ten? Does it have a class? How many skills does it have?

Opal has two. And they’ll have to be enough. With me helping, I’m sure we could crush the wolf, but… I look at their face, and they grin. Opal is loving this. I cannot take that away from them. I refuse to.

So, I support them. To the best of my ability. I try my trick of the crappy healing spell, and it’s horrendously weak at a distance. But it stems the bleeding, just a bit. Helps Opal’s muscles, just a bit. A tiny advantage, to help push them over the knife’s edge.

Again, a burst of speed. Opal takes it, deflecting the attack. Then, one moment to the next, the attack comes flying right back at them. 

I’m starting to get the picture. “It’s inertia,” I say. 

Richard looks at me, confused. “What?” she asks, in that childishly raspy voice.

“The wolf. It uses inertia, or controls speed in some variety. It’s first skill lets it speed up. I think the second one is a speed reversal. If it’s multiple skills in the same direction, it has a class, and probably a third skill that is linked to another concept,” I say. It’s as much for her as it is for Opal.

On the cleared space, Opal nods. Their greatsword comes forward, leaving a shallow cut on the wolf’s tough hide. What else could the wolf be able to do? Speed is their specialty, and yet, there is more.

I try to help Opal again, using more mana to [Suppress] their weakness. 

[Suppression 6 > 7]

Or, at least, I try, but it seems that concept is a little too vague.

The skill still works, and takes hold. Opal becomes a little bit stronger, a little bit faster, a little bit more, overall, but it feels horribly inefficient. Like using a bucket of water and pouring it all into a cracked glass, cuz my intent was too unclear.

Still, I learn. My skill becomes more powerful, and Opal just a little faster. They move with grace, learning, growing. Another cut lands on the wolf, and it grows impatient.

I watch as the alien’s mana moves. It spins and shifts, then floods their claws. For just a moment, they turn almost ethereal. One of their arms simply phases through the sword, the other one catching the blade. 

And then, those ghostly claws turn material again, digging into Opal’s chest. Splitting their skin, drawing blood, piercing them- and my friend vanishes. [Blinks].

Suddenly without a target, the wolf steps too far forward in surprise, and Opal doesn’t hesitate. Their sword lashes out, cutting one of the wolf’s legs, deeply. It’s not fatal, but the fight is over when the wound lands.

Opal steps back, wearing a huge grin on their face. “That phasing technique is fucking awesome!” they say. “What was that?”

The wolf looks at them in shock, kneeling. Their other leg no longer supports their weight. The creature opens its maw, snarling, but it’s not in fury. It’s a gesture of respect. The wolves around us howl.

Slowly, the classed alien lowers their head. “You best me,” it- he growls. “As the winner, I grant you my body.”

Opal blinks. “... What?”

Chapter 23: Round of Introductions

It is not much later that we all sit by the fire. Another one of the wolves - the wulven, as we’ve learned - uses that same fireball magic Richard ate before to light a fire. They sit further away in the clearing, keeping a respectful distance.

The leader of the wulven, the one that Opal defeated in an entirely legitimate duel that I never had a hand in at all, sits close-by, legs crossed, politely letting Opal ruffle his fur. “It’s so soft,” they hum for what is certainly not the first time.

Richard smirks at their antics. She sits next to me, watching as I hold my hands above the wulven’s wounds. My mana spins, twists, and I run my mind ragged trying to recreate the healing patterns. I get close, but it’s still too little, too incomplete for a true spell.

But it works, somewhat. A chunk of my mana being hungrily devoured by the construct, knitting a little bit more flesh back together. “Tapped out,” I say, leaning back. The wulven leader, Dar, nods at me, chuffing faintly in gratitude.

In truth, I still have a third of my mana left, but they don’t need to know that.

“Well,” I say. “The wulven have told us what they are like. What about you, Richard?”

The woman turns to me and I am once again struck by the thought that her mandibles look a little cute. Her six eyes look at me with curiosity. “Yes. Information is adequate recompense for a meal,” she says, assuring herself. “And for a friend.”

I nod. “Of course.” 

She nods again, then leans back, thoughtfully. “I am a Hiy’ht.” The sound is a bit hissy, even in the human language, meant to be suitable for their alien mouths. But it’s the best translation the system offers me. “We are small of stature, but grand of civilization. Hive spires that scratch the skies, grand pires to feed all, burrowing and building. We excel at coordination.”

Dar snorts derisively. “I would bet a warrior of mine against you anyday, insect.”

Richard simply smiles at him. “And they would win, mutt. And then, a million more Hiy’ht would come to strip their bones clean.”

At that, Dar shuts his mouth. Opal pats his head. “There there, buddy,” they say. “No need to worry about it too much. We don’t have any reason to fight, right?”

The wulven chuffs in what seems to be a mix of embarrassment, contentment, and amusement. “Sure,” he grows, “other than our eternal honor, and to form bonds.”

“Like we did?” Opal asks.

“Yes,” the wulven nods. “You and I are bonded. To let harm befall you is a stain on my honor. I shall strike down your adversaries, and in gratitude, you will strike down mine.”

“Now kiss,” Sylves teases. 

Opal gives her a long look. Then, slowly they smile, turning to the wulven and planting a kiss on his cheek. Sylves’ teasing smile freezes on her face for just a second. We all wait a few seconds to let the awkward moment drift by.

“Well, then,” Jess says. “So, the wulven are a bit of a warrior-species. And you Hiy’ht live in large colonies, and hold generational grudges.”

Richard smiles a little, though it looks weird, twisting her mandibles upwards. “Essentially, yes.”

“What about humans?” Dar asks. “I can understand the heat-eaters, yet you are mysterious, still. Are you usually gathered?”

Amelie replies to him. “Humans are renowned for gathering in large communities,” she says. “Though often, most of them hardly know about or care for each other. We are remarkably good at exploiting one another for profit, and remarkably good at creating small communities that care strongly for each other.”

At that, Richard lets out a chittering whistle. “What strange critters you are.”

I smile. Yeah, she gets it. Humans really are strange critters. 

“You are one of those tight knit communities, then?” one of Dar’s warriors asks. The fireball-mage one. 

Norman shakes his head. “Not quite. It’s more complex than that. I care about Inu and Jess,” he says, gesturing at his daughter and wife. “Meanwhile, Bay cares more about Thatch. And on and on it goes. We all have our individual bonds, but we’re sticking together. For now,” he adds.

Again, he does seem to get it. He has every right to ditch the group if he wants to. I just don’t think Inu would join him. So, I get to endure his grumbling.

Maybe we need to almost die a few more times before the horror of it sinks in? We’ll see. All in due time.

“Whelp,” Opal says. “Despite how much I love waking and fighting in the middle of the night, I’m gonna catch some more sleep.” They promptly plop their face against Dar’s shoulder. His fur might make a good pillow. Kind of like a service dog.

The wulven, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he accepts his duty with pride, having lost the duel. In a totally legitimate fashion that I had no hand in at all. Nope, not me. Surely.

Then, slowly, one by one, everyone goes to sleep. Richard seems least bothered by being awake. “Hiy’ht are diurnal,” she explains. “We’re usually awake at dawn and dusk, sleeping a little in between.”

“Wulven are always vigilant,” Dar says. “We rest parts of our brain in shifts. Usually denoted by pairs of eyes closing.” Some wulven only have two eyes, which probably means they have not gotten to that part yet. So the shift-resting was reserved for those who had advanced far enough to… grow extra eyes?

Dar, for his part, closes his red eyes, leaving the orange ones open, seemingly at peace. The fireball mage does the same, while a few of the smaller wulven seem to just fall asleep like regular people.

I wonder if I’ll also be able to avoid the need for sleep like that. Maybe I can practice in my sleep? If I think of mana enough, I might dream about it. Worth a try, I decide. So, as I close my eyes, I half-meditate and half-rest, focussing my mind on small exercises and spellforms. 

The healing spell eludes me for now, but I’ll be damned if I don’t figure it out soon.

- - -

The night passes, and morning comes. I feel… reasonably rested. Still tired, but not too bad at all. 

When I fell asleep, my thoughts were dedicated to mana, and the same is true when I wake up. My vessel is full, so I instantly use some of it to heal my wounds more. The hole in my shoulder mends a bit, and so does the nasty wound left by the little shadow thing in my side.

I should feed it, I note, sneakily poking a wound into my finger and dropping a little bit of blood into my shadow. There is a small shambling noise, and the liquid vanishes. I wait until the blood stops on its own after a dozen drops.

Dar is looking at me. He tilts his head, as if asking a question, but I just stare at him, blank faced. He smelled the blood, probably. But he doesn’t ask, and I don’t volunteer an explanation.

So, instead, I focus on the mana maze again. I hold it in my hands, and I smile at the sight of the black polish. It’s silly, but I like it. The cube’s shiny metal surface contrasts nicely against my pale hands. Slowly, I push threads of energy through it, making them coil and twist as the inside of the labyrinth shifts. It’s designed so cleverly, little runes and enchantments and levers that I get to push my mana into, and it twists parts of the maze.

Then I strain my perception again to find the path to the next little lever. It’s fun, and I repeat the exercise. It becomes more difficult with each step, too, since the path for me to feed it more mana becomes more complex, and the maze introduces new challenges. 

I enjoy it, toying with it until the others wake up, and a little past that. I continue the exercise while eating breakfast, and while the others chat. “Running low on food,” Bay notes. “We should raid a store soon.”

Slowly, I nod. My clothes are ragged, and I’d like new ones, too. With our current band of people, that shouldn’t be too much trouble. Humans, wulven, hiy’ht, all working together. It’s getting a little crowded for my taste, but that’s fine for now. I’m rather sure we’ll split up later. All I really care about is keeping Inu, Thatch, Opal and Sylves safe.

“Let’s head out, then,” I say, getting up and patting some dirt off me. 

"Halt," one of the wulven says. The fireball-slinging mage, Dar's second in command. "With our leader's new blood-bond in place, he will follow you. But you have not won the loyalty of all of us. The rest has asked me to leave, and seek out our own destiny," he announces.

Dar looks upon the wulven, two dozen staunch warriors, and then simply nods. "Very well," he says. "Tyr shall lead the pack, then. May you all live honorably, and fight beautifully."

The fireball mage, Tyr, apparently, smiles at that, baring his fangs. "Good. We wish you luck, too. May your pack hunt well and eat well."

With those words, he turns around, and rather than heading for the town, Tyr and the wulven streak into the forest, presumably to find something to hunt. I tilt my head a little t the behaviour, but then shrug. I don't see any need to chase after them - our group is plenty big already.

"So. Raiding some grocery stores?" I ask.

“I’d also like some new clothes,” Amelie notes. I look down at myself, then over at her and smile.

“That too, then,” I nod. 

And with that decision made, we head off, back from the forest into the city - despite Sylves’ protests, of course. 

Chapter 24: Shoplifting and Escort

Finding stores to raid isn’t too hard. The city is big, and has plenty of places to buy things. Well, had places to buy things. Now, they’re clearly places to take things from! 

“You’re smiling the creepy smile again,” Inu says.

“Stealing is too fun,” I reply. “Shoplifting is great. Especially when morally correct.”

Our first stop is a grocery store. It’s already half-empty, with people having taken a lot of the medical supplies, canned foods, and, surprisingly, toilet paper. As we enter, there is a group of people in there, too.

“Stop right there,” a man says. “What’re you here for?” he asks, with a goblin axe resting lazily on his shoulder. He replaced the handle with a longer piece of wood, making it almost serviceable for human use. Mine is shorter than his. 

“Food, bandaids, that kinda stuff,” Thatch readily replies. “Just the regular kind of things.”

The guy shakes his head. “Sorry, bud. No dice,” he says. “Me and my boys are setting up base here, see. All this stuff is ours now. You should-” he pauses, as Opal and Dar round the corner. “Holy fuck, what the hell is that?!”

Opal blinks at him. “Oh,” he says. “My wulven friend. We got new species on Earth since last night.” To exacerbate the point, Dar bears his teeth a little, straightening his back to his full height of just about seven-and-a-half feet. 

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit!”

One of the guy’s friends, a woman, walks over, rubbing her eyes. “Dave, what’s the commo- Holy shit,” her eyes widen, too, like saucepans.

“Look,” Thatch says, diplomatically. “We really don’t want any trouble. Just a couple bandages, some water, some food, and we’ll be outta your hair, yeah?”

Dave nods vigorously, suddenly entirely okay with the prospect of sharing resources. “Ah, yeah. Okay. Fuck, man, take what you need. I’m not dealing with your werewolf.”

And with that incredibly helpful bit of assistance, we get to leave the grocery store with backpacks full of dried food. I chew on an apple on my way out, enjoying the fruity flavour after the two days of cereal and stuff.

“Next up? Clothing!” Sylves decrees with great excitement.

I fear she might be bored when she finds they don’t have faerie dresses. Maybe she’ll make her own, despite the apocalypse. Actually, maybe she’s just looking to pick up sewing supplies?

We make our way to a clothing store Bay remembers. I only know about the second hand places I usually checked out. More different clothing meant more chances of finding a fabric that didn’t make me wanna die. 

But going to a bigger place was probably a better choice in this case. So, we raid a clothing store, this one much less occupied than our previous target. I discard a dozen scratchy shirts that make me wanna tear my skin off, before finding an acceptable one. It’s a spaghetti top, which means it shows too much skin, but I’m able to find a jacket that lets me cover my arms and shoulders. We don’t need to care about putting the clothes back properly, but despite that, we all wait our turns, using the changing booths to try things on.

Well, most of us. Opal doesn’t care and just stands in a corner. Their back muscles are nice. I move on rather quickly. Opal also makes Dar try on a shirt, and it looks incredibly funny, squishing their fur. The wulven decides to stick with their traditional clothing, 

Richard, for her part, does find a shirt in the kid’s section. Good for her. It has a teddy bear on it. Sylves rolls her eyes at the 'boring' designs, simply scavenging for something that interests her, pulling discarded pieces apart for salvageable fabric and stuffing it into her backpack.

She also picks up a few tools from the employee area, killing the goblin inside and ignoring the smell of the half-rotting half-dissolving-into-mana human corpse as she swiftly shuts the door again. 

When we leave, people are outside. A small group of them, outfitted with guns. Somehow, that doesn’t seem as scary as before.

Oh, sure, a shot in the head will still kill me, but well. What if I suppress the movement of the hammer? “Thatch, Inu, you’re on diplomacy,” I tell them as we step outside. “No fear.”

“Hey there,” Thatch greets. Loudly, enough for them to notice us, and turn, while we’re still far enough away that they don’t get jumpy or fire. He waves, too. I simply stare at the weapon.

The people turn, controlled, but still afraid. I notice the twitch in their hands. None of the three raise their guns, not yet. A man, barely older than me, steps forward. “Oh, more survivors, good! Always nice to see another human,” he says.

Silently, I [Select] him. Just to be sure. The human comment seems troublesome, since we have Richard and Dar with us. 

“Yeah,” Thatch agrees with a smile. “What are you up to here?”

“Gathering survivors,” the other man readily gives away. “Police is short staffed, so we volunteered. Supposed to bring anyone we find to the safe zone.”

“Safe zone?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah! Mayor set one up. A skill of some kind, apparently. Certified nonviolence.” He smiles. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the danger zone. Dying to a goblin’s a shit fate.”

I like his bluntness, at least. Inu looks at him, playing the hesitating act. I know she’s using [Empathy] to glean his intent, since I have him selected. “How much space is there for people?” she asks.

“Zone expands the more people that join it,” the man says, still wearing that friendly smile. “We’ve got a good bit of water and food, too.”

There is nothing disingenuous about him. He’s not like the blondey from before, he doesn’t smell of blood and oil. In fact, I could even believe that he is genuinely nice. But I don’t trust the mayor. Not even a little bit. Is it worth taking a look, though?

“I dunno,” Thatch says, giving a conflicted grimace. “Our last few run-ins with other humans haven’t been particularly nice.”

At that, the man gives a sympathetic nod. “I hear you. Look. I know that some groups are shitheads about it, but I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do. Would just be a shame for more decent people to get hurt.”

“Lord knows there are enough corpses in the street,” a woman next to him says.

Norman steps out from behind the building. “Alright,” he says. “We’ll come along, take a look at your safe zone.”

The man brightens at that. “Awesome!” he says. “Didn’t notice you, haha. Got any more group members we should wait for?” 

I look at Norman. He looks at me. Okay, then. Fine, Norman, have it your way. This will be a learning experience. If things go wrong, I’ll play janitor, but I’m not babysitting him this time. 

“Just a few,” he says with a smile. The others slowly trickle out of the building, though Dar and Richard, as well as Opal and Sylves are suspiciously absent. Everyone else moves to follow our group of escorts. Let’s see what this safe zone business is about. Let’s see if Norman gets his face kicked in.

I kinda hope he does.