Kernoel77

Magic Breaker Ch 100-102

Chapter 100: The Undergrowth

[Flametouched cackles as you light its beacon.]

Oops.

The forest may, perhaps, be on fire.

This is not at all my fault. Jess looks at me, slowly extinguishing the fireball in her hand. Okay, maybe I’d been feeding them with extra mana, effectively supercharging them. Maybe I’d been weakening the environment’s resistance to fire. 

Maybe. Probably. Allegedly.

The forest smells of smoke and charred leaves, and we start to retreat. The plants here are hostile, and even the fallen leaves are sharp and hard, digging into the soles of my shoes like little pebbles. But they still crunch down into dried dust, fertilizing the angry undergrowth.

Vines reach for my feet, only to wilt away at the touch of my [Suppression]. Kuro eats bits of any of the stronger ones. Our guide, a tall minotaur named Bile, looks at the flames and slowly moves further away. “Now, usually,” he says, pushing a set of glasses further up his snout, “we don’t need to worry about fires since the forest works to extinguish them.”

He then glances at Jess. “Some pyromancers have ways to reduce that impact. In which case, the fires often attract more force to put them out, quickly. This will be resolved soon, but we should leave before we get caught in it,” he said.

With quick nods, everyone begins to shuffle away from the forest, even as bits of it light ablaze. I also withdraw my suppression, letting the plants resist the fire much better. Instantly, sap moves to smother the flames, and the variety of plants deposits different mechanisms to deal with the fire.

Some open up and froth with milky foam, others snuff out the fire by moving water through their roots and spraying it. It looks a little like multiple kinds of sprinkler systems going off at once. Already, though, we hear a distant howling. The smell of smoke must have attracted forest predators.

Even as we’re moving away, animals appear from the brushwork. There’s many of them, strong and weak, trickling into my sphere of observation. I brush my senses against them, and the moment they spot our group, they turn and howl.

The animals on this floor are strange, too. Most are, to some degree, nature aligned. The brutal, vicious kind of nature, emphasizing the circle of life. They did not hesitate to murder each other at all, and yet, they were able to cooperate. Strange, lupine figures, wreathed with intertwining vine and flesh. Monkeys that wore faces carved from living wood, and bears with their skin plated in barken armor.

There were more, of course. The jungle’s most insidious defenders were almost invisible. Venomous ants and centipedes, their colonies scurrying about beneath the thin coverings of leaves, always just a step away from being bitten and swarmed. 

It’s an omnipresent network of life. Interconnected, and, to some degree, cooperative. A bird with a wooden beak shot at me with a barrage of rocks. I [Suppress] its wings, making it tumble, slamming into the floor. I breathe, smelling the mix of smoke and forest air, full of decay and composting.

“Move,” Bile hissed, drawing his green cloak tighter, camouflaging into the forest. “We need to get out of here before a drya finds us.”

[You have caught the Eye of the Earthmother.]

There is a rumbling in the ground as it shakes. Roots writhe like snakes, suddenly animated with life. I can feel the way that life floods the environment. A violent roil of vitality that smothers me, like the feeling of hot air and sticky sweat against my skin. It’s disgusting.

We run. We run as quickly as we can, moving far away. There’s howling and gnashing in the distant forest for a few more minutes, and by the time the smell of smoke fades away, the forest has gone back to silence. Through the distance, I catch a glimpse of writhing vines, and there is some noise of breaking bodies.

We pay it no mind, though. Instead, we find the first opportunity to hide it out.

Bile’s a hybrid. His job is being a survivalist, his class is an earth mage, and his innate skills were rogueish. That’s how he’s hidden from the guild, and that’s how he hides us from the forest.

One of his bunkers marks our escape. He lifts up the ground, an earthen staircase down into its dark depths, and once everyone is inside, he heads down the steps himself, his horns just barely fitting underneath the low ceilings.

With a soft thud, the earth closes up above us. 

It’s quiet down here. That’s the strange part of it all. The forest is so chaotic, and yet so quiet. Deadly plants everywhere, murderous mushrooms, parasitic insects, venomous flora and fauna, and yet it’s quiet.

Down here, though? It’s even more silent than that. The only sound within the hovel is the soft thuds of movement up above, and our shallow breathing. Opal is covered in ichor and plantmatter, grinning brightly. Inu’s armor has rusted a little, hit by some sort of corrosive ability, so Bay is already working on restoring it.

Norman stays near the entrance, using his Skill to cloak it further, and I pump mana into a solid sphere that glows faintly, just bright enough that we can actually see. Amusing how we wanted to leave the first floor so much, and now we are back underground, hiding like tunnel rats. Perhaps, that is my true fate. It could be worse.

The movement above-ground comes closer. Thudding and slithering. Closer still. Then, right above us, it stops.

There’s a dull hiss, like a gigantic snake, kept apart from me by a few feet of earth. Then, Bile huffs, and grits his teeth with exertion. “Grrrr,” he snarls.

Above us, the earth bulges downward. Then it crashes inward. Serves me right for thinking it could be worse, I guess.

As a prize, I get the lovely experience of being buried alive. 

Chapter 101: Carving Through

About twelve tons of earth crash into my chest all at once, followed by the massive body of an ivory snake. Its white skin was wreathed in yellow veins underneath the graceful scales, plants growing out of those blood vessels as though they were roots. Mainly flytraps, I note, as my bones creak from the weight. 

Then, all at once, the earth turns liquid, and I feel myself pushing to the surface, rocketing out of it as if thrown by some giant. I fly high, the mouth of an enormous flytrap closing just beneath my feet. Dispassionately, I [Observe], the snake’s eyes meeting mine for a moment.

It flicks its tongue, tasting my mood on the air. And then, there is a blink of fear. 

Instantly, I know it has some emotional resonance skill. It’s seen my nature. It knows what I truly am. The same way that Dar did. The same way that Inu does.

My hand flicks forward, and mana gathers. My entire vessel, suddenly emptied in a torrent of power. All my usual care disappears as I gather my power. 

The snake spits something at me from its mouth, a row of poison darts, but the coalescing mass of mana twists and writhes into a short sword. It’s imbued, too, with [Suppression] and [Deconstruction].

[Job up! Imbuer 4 > 6]

My total vessel hits 150. More power pours into my weapon. A dull, grey sword, wreathed from stable, solidified mana. It’s the largest construct I’ve ever made, and I make it as solid as I can. Streaks of runes glide along its ethereal surface, and harden it.

Poison darts crash against the blade and shatter.

[Solidification 9 > 10]

My blade lasts. No, more than that. The combination of an imbuement of [Deconstruction] fuels my Abiding Apathy. As I carve apart the venomous mana of the snake, I can feel even more power flood the weapon. It grows longer, just a tiny bit, eating at the world.

I stare at the snake. I see the fear in its eyes. I fall, and I swing my sword. 

My epitaph sings a hymn. 

The snake dies.

[You have killed a lv. 38 Snyder]

[Level up! 33 > 34]

More points go into vessel. My sword is already starting to dissipate, even as the fight goes on. There is no dryad, specifically, but the nearby plants writhe in fury at the snyder’s death. 

Roots roil and wrap around my feet, until Syvles whispers to them. Then, all at once, they unravel and retreat. Opal carves some apart with their blade, and Thatch simply looks at them and they wilt.

The plants around us are angry, but they keep at bay. Coiled and waiting to strike, but knowledgeable of what might happen if they do. I jab my sword into a tree, letting it drink the plant’s mana while we take the time to think.

“We have to move,” Bile says. He’s raised us all out of the earth, but his dark fur is now mottled with dirt. He trains his dim, yellow eyes on me. “That was a quick kill, but we will need even more distance now.”

“That’s fine. We can go back up,” I say.

Bile shakes his head. “You cannot. Not now.”

[The Earthmother witnesses your crime. For a day, you may not leave her forest. Repent, or prove yourself worthy.]

I see. So that’s how it is. “A day,” I say out loud. “A day until we can ascend again.”

How would she stop us, I wonder? Maybe any tree we attempt to climb would simply have all its branches wither and die, making us fall back down to the floor? Or, maybe, it’s something sanctioned by the Tower. I sigh, softly.

Fine then.

Pulling my degrading sword from the tree, I nod. The others have already gotten the picture. All at once, we move.

- - - 

With willpower, and a steady trickle of regenerating mana, I shape my sword into something of a machete, hacking at vines. Every time I cut through one, a bit of power is lost, and a bit of power is stolen right back from whatever I cut.

Imbuement seems to be a powerful synergy with my epitaph. Moving with an empty vessel for once is also rather nice. Unlike most of the time, I don’t feel the pressure, or the stinging pain, that comes from my vessel. That sensation of heartburn is entirely gone, and in its place, I simply feel relief.

It’s nice. 

Not nice enough to consider putting less points in vessel, but nice nonetheless. My epitaph sings as I cut through another vine, earning a notification.

[You have killed a lv. 14 Thornspring Ivy]

That’s how most of the plants go. I wonder how the tower handles notifications, because it clearly deems some creatures so far below me that it doesn’t even announce their deaths, like bacteria. I wonder about its filter criteria for a moment, then move on with my life.

More plants fall and we move faster than ever. My mana regenerates, even as I take damage. Sometimes, a few of the plants will land sneaky attacks on me. But my torn skin quickly mends itself again. Tiny thorns dig into my shins, only to be expelled as my flesh knits itself back together.

I look at my machete, grasped tightly in my left arm. The only arm I have left, really. I smirk at the thought, then hack aside another vine. The temporary inscriptions flare, and I feel a trickle of blood underneath my nose as I try to analyse them.

It’s funny. With the essence I have, I can imbue things by instinct, a bit, but understanding the way those runes work as inscriptions is difficult. Imbuement is, after all, turning skills into inscriptions. I have done that before, on Norman’s cloak, but it took me multiple weeks to emulate partial effects.

Now? The machete works like [Deconstruction] with every swing. The runes on it shift, as if to accommodate different scenarios. It’s beautiful, and I can intuitively feel its effects, but trying to analyse them leaves them just a sliver out of reach.

That’s okay. I try me best to remember them, carving tiny crystal formations into the budding skill I’m building. It only takes a tiny trickle of mana, since they’re so small, and it records a chunk of runes, alongsides the effects that an item exhibits. My personal, miniature library.

It’s not finished yet, but it’s getting close. That, and another skill…

Pins and needles on my skin warm me, just a moment before it happens. I duck, throwing myself at the ground.

The enormous snake, the snyder I’d killed, blasts through the trees above me, its corpse, already being dissolved into mana and reclaimed by the tower, crashing through multiple trees, snapping their branches and chipping their trunks.

Behind me, there is a roar, and I turn to see a hulking amalgamate.

A wulven, joints covered with mushrooms, orange veins of spores wreathing along its body. It stands twice as tall as me, and far stronger, with a feral grimace. Flowers jut from its eyes, wreathing its weeping face in a snarling grimace. They feel entrancing, and for a moment, they draw me in.

Then I raise my sword, and the compulsion shatters. Instead, I step back as the massive pseudo-biological scythe that the fungus grafted onto its left arm sweeps through where I’d just stood. 

The avatar of the jungle snarls at me, barking its challenge. I breathe in, calmly, the spores shattering in the air before reaching my nose. I nod, accepting. “Fine then. Let me prove myself, Earthmother,” I say, leveraging my blade at the thing.

Chapter 102: Clashing Blades

/The Earthmother, patron Eye of the third floor. The first has the Keeper of the Tunnels, and the second is shared between the Calamities. These three are known by almost all climbers, due to the fact that most climbers interact with them, to some degree.

The Keeper maintains law and order in the tunnels with their avatars. The Calamities are the true test of the second floor - whether it be the storm, the drought, the pest, or any of the others. You would need to travel far across those bland hills to see more than one.

But the Earthmother is the most vocal of those. She protects her forest, she challenges, she uplifts, and she respects one thing more than anything else: Fairness. If you catch her ire, there is a game. Run and escape, or beat a champion and survive. Those are how you live if you mess with the rules of the undergrowth.

Live as a creature of the forest would - or prove you’re strong or graceful enough to survive anyway. 

Well, most of you’d die in a ditch while fighting, of course. So really, run. Run fast, run far. The hunt may be fair, but you are hunted. Prey, not hunter. You’d do well to remember that./

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

- - -

The scythe of the [Fungal Stalker] hisses through the air in front of my face again. The hive-plant puppeteers the flesh of the wulven it ensnared rather well. It moves almost gracefully, even in ways that its muscles wouldn’t allow, and I suspect its insides must have been rearranged in some ways.

It’s a creepy thing to look at, and full of bothersome effects. The spores from the mushrooms try to make me sluggish and lethargic, a slow acting toxin that settles in my joints and sprouts from there. A parasite.

Meanwhile, the flowers that grow a wreath across the wulven’s empty eyesockets smell wonderfully enticing. They are beguiling things, drawing eye and awareness away from the pseudo-avatar’s lethatlity.

And it is lethal. Not a true dryad, not a true forestkeeper. It is meant as a challenge suitable to me. A victory the mother could respect. And she would be right to - beating this thing with an empty vessel seems like one hecc of a task. And yet, I’m up for it.

Gently, my machete glides through the air, beating the scythe aside, and stealing from it. Parts of that weapon crumble upon the clash, and a tiny bit of mana reinforces my disintegrating sword. The wulven roars, and the forest answers.

In a moment, the grass and leaves beneath my feet rise up, stopping me in the middle of a step. I’m off balance, and my ankle twists a bit. Despite that, I bring up the machete again, and the scythe slams into me. It’s strong.

The wulven’s body is strong, and the parasites have strengthened it even more. The blow is powerful enough that I feel it resonate up my entire arm. My feet lift off the floor, the plantmatter around them shredding, and I’m thrown against a tree.

My bones creak from the impact, but hold, supported by my heart stat. The wood splinters slightly behind me. I blink to clear my vision, and the avatar is upon me again already.

It’s faster than me. It’s stronger than me. The environment is supporting it. A thin smile spreads on my lips.

I’ll break it all the same.

With a quick motion, I bring up the machete to block the scythe, bracing it against my shoulder. Bio-metal crashes into my mana construct, the scythe only inches away from my neck, and both fracture and break. 

Except, my sword is better. It’s made from my entire pool of vessel, made to kill. It carves into the scythe, and the wulven’s weapon crumbles around it. Pieces of mana are devoured by my apathy, and though the sword wants to absorb them, I command them myself. 

When the wulven moves again, I [Suppress] it. 

[Suppression 15 > 16]

Suddenly, some of that monstrous strength fades away. Some of its speed breaks into flakes of ash and it staggers. I smell blood in the air, and step forward. A quick stab, and the avatar parries. Mycelium moves to block my strike, but it costs it. More damage. More bits of its body break away into motes of mana, feeding me.

I double down on my skill, making it even heavier. The monster roars, and I feel my muscles contract, stunned. Crap.

It sends me flying with its other arm, claws digging into my chest as my ribcage creaks from the impact. I slam into another tree, my sword still clenches in my hand. I cut the tree, breaking bits of it to feed my weapon. The cracks on its surface mend again, and when the monster slams into me, [Biological Restoration] has taken care of the worst of my wounds.

This time, it tackles me to the ground. Fangs snap shut right in front of my eyes as I pull back as far as I can, then place my sword in front of my face. The thing’s teeth close around the flat of the blade - and then they break. The runes on my machete glow as more mana feeds into them. The sides may not be sharp, but they still carry that same imbuement.

As the thing howls for a moment, I kick its stomach, sending it back a step, and hack down with the machete. It brings its scythe up to block, and yet more of the metal is worn away. It looks ragged by now.

Then again, I must not look amazing myself. Blood leaking from my ears, and mouth, with a few holes on my chest. I smile, nonetheless, and walk forward at the staggering monster. It’s fraying at the edges, I can see it.

For a moment, I am entranced by the flowers, but a single sweep of the machete through the air clears that up. Its spores and pollen shatter. Snarling with a toothless maw, the thing goes on all fours, an awkward position with the massive weapon grafted to its arm. I watch, and observe, calmly.

My heart beats with adrenaline, and I feel alive. There’s a song in my ears. A musical hum that speaks of power and domination. An epitaph? That’s what it sounds like, to me. I tune it out, and focus.

The world narrows. It’s me and it. The avatar, wreathed from a corpse. A test to see whether I’m hunter or hunted. 

It dashes at me. My machete cuts through the air.

[You have killed a lv. 43 Avatar Amalgam]

I breathe. A line of blood trails across my cheek. The broken pieces of the scythe embed themselves in a tree behind me. One of them trailed near my face, leaving a shallow cut.

[The Earthmother smiles at your offering.]

[Level up! 34 > 36]

On the ground, there lays the corpse of the wulven. Its scythe shattered, broken by my sword. I look upon it, the flowers wilted, the mycelium dead and dry. Already, parts of it turn to motes of mana, and other parts get devoured by the living forest. The tower is claiming its share.

And, of course, there’s the final bit. 

[You have been granted a possible epitaph. Accept?]

[Epitaph: Hunter’s Heart]

Chapter 285: Meeting of Peaks

Chapter 285: Meeting of Peaks

Mercury looked at the young girl, still no older than eight, hanging from his arm by her teeth. He shook his arm, and watched the girl flail like a flag in the wind, but she didn’t let go. “What is up with you?”

“Peak eeader oo annialism,” she provided, her mouth stuffed.

Staring at her, Mercury gave a deadpan look. She looked right back at him. Mercury withdrew the <Veil> and his inverted <Truth> from the arm, revealing it for the wood-ice thing it was. Instantly, Palisade-Girl’s eyes fell. “A rosthetic?” she murmured, then promptly spat it out, landing on her feet.

“Not quite,” Mercury said, reapplying the illusion of being human. By now, his natural regeneration had accumulated easily enough flesh to make himself a whole body from it, but <Assimilation> really just… didn’t need him to. He could exist just fine like this.

“You should not be able to use Origin Qi with a prosthetic,” Gun-Byeong, the beast of Slaughter said. “Unless it had channels carved into it, and they would need to be… heavenly.”

Mercury tilted his head. “As I said. It’s not a prosthetic. And I wasn’t aware I would gian an audience.”

“C’mooon,” Palisade-Girl whined. “Give me an arm to chew on already!” Somehow, despite the weirdness of her words, the little girl worse a bright smile. 

“Peak master of Cannibalism, yes, I get it,” Mercury said with a frown. “But also, absolutely not. I’m not feeding you my flesh.”

At that, the girl had the audacity to pout. “Then I won’t tell you my name.”

“Alright, I’ll call you Pali.”

Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. “H-how…” she whispered. “How did you guess it?”

Amusingly, despite the myriad of tools Mercury had to drag out information, he’d used none of them. Not <Answer>, not Appy, not <Tapestry> or ihn’ar. He’d just guessed. Pali, short for, well, Palisade-Girl. He snickered at the thought. “Lucky guess,” he told her.

“Enough of this tomfoolery,” an older woman said. She wore long, flowing blue-black robes. Her ice-cold eyes were hidden behind a similarly coloured blindfold, and her single remaining arm clutched a knife behind her back, long blue-white hair waving in the wind. “I am Su ShouFan, master of the peak of Mutilation. You. Who art thou?”

Mercury looked at her, and at the other gathered people. A few more peak leaders. Gun-Byeong sat close to him, the giant of a man shifting awkwardly. Zyl regarded the gathering of cultivators with an almost bored look. Mercury very gently picked Pali out of the air as she tried to chew his hair.

“Pali of Cannibalism,” Su ShouFan chided, “cease your playing this moment. You represent the Cult of Infernal Flames to an outside expert. Act like it.”

The little girl rolled her eyes. “And you think you’d do better? He’d never let you get this close. But me? I look harmless!” She bared her teeth as she spoke, the rows of them suddenly looking sharp and dangerous. “He sees shark’s fins, but not the stingray below.”

Sighing softly, Mercury placed the child down. “Are you secretly older than you look?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Pali provided happily. “My cultivation art is named the-”

“Do not dare give away our secrets, Pali!” Su ShouFan roared with a grimace.

“-Thousand Year Devouring Mastery. If I eat another’s flesh, my age reverses. And I’m… a very hungry girl, you know?” she said, licking her lips.

“So how old are you really?” Mercury asked.

“Eleven.”

He stared at the eight-year-old. Then he blinked. “Why are you eating other people at your age?”

She tilted her head. “Is that… really what you should be asking right now?”

Mercury felt the air pressure rise around him. Ancient monsters summoned up their Qi, readied themselves for what he could only describe as war. Very calmly, a small smile spread on Mercury’s lips. “I’m a curious critter,” he said. “Indulge me.”

“We will not,” Su ShouFan replied gravely. “You will answer to us-”

Interrupting her, Mercury felt a twinge of annoyance. He triggered <Answer>. A ripple spread through the air, invisible force, and Mercury breathed in the magic. He felt it vibrate in his bones, and into his throat as he opened his mouth again. “Why are you eating people at your age?” 

[<Answer> has levelled up! <Answer lv. 2 -> 3>]

The question tore through all other sounds in the world. Quiet ripped outwards violently, like a shredder to all noise. Su ShouFan fell silent. The fluttering of robes quieted, the beating of hearts went noiseless. The only thing to pierce the silence was a single faint heartbeat with the sound of crackling fire, the only spot of colour in a grey world.

Pali looked at him, her eyes suddenly wide. “We were starving,” she whispered. “And my mom, she said to, she said I should and I... I-”

“That’s enough,” Mercury said, disgusted. Colour came back to the world. The wind breathed. Kneeling in front of the young girl, he took out a piece of candy, gingerly placing it into her hand. He smiled sadly. “I apologize if I scared you.”

Very slowly, she closed her fingers around the sugary sphere. Then, she shook her head, and threw the candy into her mouth wordlessly, still shaking slightly. Mercury stood back up, and stared at the floating figures, circling him. He felt their qi crackle through their bodies, felt the way their power lanced at the world.

They were strong. Unbelievably strong. Each one a monster in their own right. Prodigies like Pali, terrifying fighters like Gun-Beong, or ancient ones like Daryel had been, people who’d spent a hundred, or a thousand years perfecting their craft.

Could he beat all of them? 

No.

Mercury quickly realized that he couldn’t. His power had found its equal, for once. These were people on par with fey rulers, he imagined. Somewhere close to the pinnacle of strength in this world. But while he couldn’t beat them, he could hurt them.

And they couldn’t kill him.

Of that he was absolutely certain. Not because of his steel skin, or because he could regenerate, but because he did not need a body to live. He could eat knowledge, he could assimilate the ground, he could remake himself from nothing but a thought.

In some ways, Mercury was tempted to call himself a nightmare… which was most likely rather literal. He could invade their sleep, after all, especially if he cut them with the Dream of Starvation. He could infect them like a virus, haunt them, eat their minds, one by one. 

And he did none of that. 

Taking a deep breath, Mercury sat down on the ground. “Sorry again, Pali,” he said gently. “I get if you’re scared. That was unfair of me. I’m very, very sorry you had to go through that. I do mean this very gently, though: You shouldn’t eat other people. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, if that’s alright? They went through something similar.”

Her eyes glinted. The girl whispered. “Are they also hungry?” she asked.

“One of the hungriest,” Mercury nodded.

A thin smile cracked the veneer of fear on Pali’s face. “You’re lucky I like you!” she declared haughtily. “I’ll visit your friend.”

Su ShouFan hung in the sky, her blindfold fixing Mercury furiously, the empty sleeve of her missing arm billowing in the wind. But her fury was tempered by her fear. She knew that this was not a trifle. That even now, with every peak master present… they were not guaranteed victory.

They were scared. A thin, tiny seedling of fear in the back of their minds. Mercury looked at the blind woman, then nodded towards the grass in front of him. “Take a seat,” he said, making sure to keep the anger from his voice. “Let us talk.”

“We will demand answers,” the woman said through gritted teeth.

“I will explain things, if it suits me,” Mercury said with a shrug. At that, some of the peak masters looked outraged, wrath twisting their ancient features. But it was a pointless anger. If they wanted to fight, they should fight already. And if they were going to talk, then they’d get down here and talk.

“Show us some face, brat!” one of the elders called, red faced, vein on his forehead, killing intent pressing down.

Mercury looked back. “I’m a polite person,” he said with a slow breath. Clouds gathered in the sky. The air began to smell of ozone. “I’m patient, too. But I don’t give respect to people who haven’t earned it.”

The old man grimaced. His qi rushed, roared. Barking dogs of apocalyptic lightning manifested behind him. The earth quaked. The sun darkened. Mercury’s veil brushed his skin as the wind picked up. “You dare?” the old man asked, dangerous and quiet.

After having just heard that these were people who let a child cannibalize other people, and rewarded her for it, Mercury found himself very low on patience. The righteous sects were fucked, and so was this. Everything about this was a mess. Power without control was simply… messy.

“Come down here and talk.” That was all he said.

Power bubbled in the sky. Anger flowed off the elders in tides, emotions so tangible. Bands of killing intent spilled down like murderous ribbons. Mercury sat. He focused. His Skill triggered.

<Babbling Brook>. The emotions spilled at him, and then they washed away like nothing. He took hold of his own anger… and let it go. He found it in his heart to forgive these people, even if the whole lot of them were horrible. He decided to listen first. And if any of them needed to die, he would make a calm, rational decision about it.

Something about judge, jury, and executioner, right? Mercury met the waves of coiling fury with endless calm. “Come down here and talk,” he repeated.

And, to his surprise, someone did. Su ShouFan sighed softly, and then moved. Her long hair trailed weightlessly through the air, trailing her like a bridal veil. Her feet softly touched down on the grass, and she sat. Uncaring of the dirt that would no doubt besmirch her robe. Her blindfolded eyes settled into a blank stare ahead. The knife behind her back went into its sheats.

Protests spread through the peak masters. “You cannot be doing this,” the angry old man whispered. 

“Peak master Ji BaiYun, sovereign of Devastating Storms, calm yourself,” Su ShouFan instructed. “Settle your raging heart and sit.”

Her words brooked no argument. She didn’t even look at the old man. For a brief heartbeat, the lightning tigers around him surged. Wolfhounds or destruction formed… and then vanished. The winds, having just risen, ceased. The old man, despite everything, calmed himself.

His hair, a crown of it surrounding the bald top of his head, stopped waving. His impressive beard settled down. And he landed, too.

One by one, each of the ancient monsters settled on the ground. Demonic cultivators, people driven by their dissatisfaction, settled down. Each of them decided to actually have a conversation with him.

“Will you speak with us now?” Su ShouFan of Mutilation asked.

Mercury nodded. “Sure.” He shot a glance at Zyl, telling the snickering dragon to be quiet. “What do you want?”

“Who are you?” she asked, levering a frown at him. It highlighted a scar that crossed from her cheek across her lips.

At that question, he just smiled. “My name is Mercury,” he said. “I’ve fought in the west before, and it’s my first time in the martial world. I’ve been learning.”

“And you already believe yourself ready to judge us?” Ji BaiYun, the angry old man, spat venomously. “That you know what is right and wrong? That you’re righteous and we’re all cultists?”

Mercury tilted his head. “I’m reasonably sure that the cult has upsides and downsides,” he said calmly. “The amount of dead children I’ve seen here is a downside.”

“More children die on the streets, I assure you,” another elder replied, a younger looking, almost scholarly man. He wore glasses on his face, had a gentle smile, and short, brown hair. In fact, if Mercury were to describe him, he would have called him cute and nerdy, though he did have a nasty acid-burn scar from his ear to his forehead.

“Who are you, if I may ask?” 

The young man dipped his head at that. “I am Kang Tae-yoon,” he replied, “peak master of Honest Treachery.”

Mercury tilted his head. “I see. Do you take in many kids.”

“It’s one of the more peaceful peaks,” the man replied with a smile. “Yes. Many of the Cult’s children grow up there. Many others grow with sister Yoshida.” 

He gestured to an older woman, with shorter hair, whose stern face broke out into a smile. She, too, is scarred, though it’s mostly her hands. Strands of grey weave through her otherwise dark hair, but her eyes still glint with intelligence. “I told you to call me Keiko, brat,” she said. Then, she looked at Mercury. “Yoshida Keiko,” she said. “Peak master of Fleeting Life, pleased to meet you.”

“You’re a doctor,” Mercury noted calmly. 

Keiko raised an eyebrow at that. “How did you guess?” she asked.

“The smell. Herbs and blood,” he replied. 

A thin smile played across her aged face, cold eyes glinting mirthfully. “I am a doctor. Life is fleeting. It is my task to know when to prolong it… and when it must end.”

Mercury smiled at that. “Would you end mine?”

The smile across her lips slowly receded, like a stone sinking down a lake. She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, a tiny motion. “If it was needed.”

“When does someone need to die?” he asked. The question was not for her, it was for all of them.

Gun-Byeong grinned. “When they’re strong.”

“When I’m hungry!” Pali supplied.

“When they’re suffering,” Keiko said.

“If they’re dishonest,” Kang Tae-Yoon added.

“Only once they’ve paid penance,” Su ShouFan said coldly.

“Anyone who mouths off,” Ji BaiYun grunted.

“When they’re in the way,” Kuro and Shiro agreed.

Mercury looked at the gathering of peak masters around him. He nodded slowly, thinking he had a rather decent measure of them by now. He breathed in, then out. “You came here because you were worried I was breaking things, is that right?” he asked.

Su ShouFan, apparently comfortable speaking for the rest of them, nodded at that. “True.”

“I am not. I have not killed, not even hurt any of the members of the Cult. In fact, if anything, I’ve been improving your housing situation,” he said.

“You’re telling me that on top of origin qi you have advanced mastery over multiple elements and the knowledge required to use them to build a house?” Ji BaiYun scoffed, crossing his arms and throwing a grumpy look to the side. “No way.”

Sighing softly, Mercury summoned up his <Magic> and made a few plants around him sprout, the earth shake, and drew some metal from the ground. He raised an eyebrow. “Satisfactory?”

Suddenly with a dozen eyes on him, Ji BaiYun just shrank further into himself. He grumbled a few words, but nodded. “Beginner’s luck,” he muttered. 

Mercury shook his head with exasperation, but then faced the other elders. “So, you can see, I’ve been doing my best to be civil,” he said.

“So it seems,” Kang, the deceitful scholar said with a small smile. He pushed his glasses higher up on his nose. “So, then, why have you been trampling the history of our cult?” he asked.

“Huh?” Mercury asked.

Kang spread his arms. “Look. This is the valley of Balance. It is where the lost go to contribute. You have taken purpose away from them. There’s no need for them to build or farm. You have solved-”

Keiko stomped on his foot, making the young man flinch for a moment and hiss in pain. The old doctor just stared at him as he opened his mouth to question her, and she shook her head. “Not right now,” she said. “Play your little games later.”

He had the audacity to pout at that. “Fine,” he said, not sounding very pleased. 

Ji BaiYun snickered at that. “Brat can’t hold himself back.”

“I am, decidedly, not a brat,” Kang said.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m older than you.”

Su ShouFan turned to Mercury. “That’s a lie,” she said. “Kang is honest about when he’s lying - and that’s… almost always.”

“I’m very honest about being a liar,” Kang said with a beaming smile. 

Mercury blinked. Was this cult… being held together by literally two remotely sane people? A blind woman with a thirst for vengeance and an old doctor with a penchant for euthanasia? He felt rather bad for these people.

Even worse than before, which, given the starvation, dying kids and terrible living conditions, was saying a lot. He shook his head, softly. “Alright,” he interrupted them. Two of the elders were already kind of at each others’ throats. “Do you have any other questions for me?” he asked.

Su ShouFan leveled him with a soft stare, made all the more confusing given that she was, again, blind. Then again, Mercury could also kind of passively feel the world with his qi. Each of the peak masters was a beacon through that sight. So it wasn’t hard to imagine that he was also easy to spot.

“One more question,” the blind woman said. “How are you so strong when you have hardly cultivated?” 

Mercury smiled and shrugged. “Sorcery,” he said. 

Ji BaiYun’s eyes instantly hardened. “Oh just great,” he complained. “A sorcerer. No wonder you were so defiant. You know nothing of this world. Let this old man teach you some manners…”

When he was already rolling up his sleeves, possibly to whack Mercury over the head, Gun-Byeong held out a hand. “Hey,” the beast said. “If anyone is fighting him, it’s me. I wanna rip his head from his neck again. The look in his eyes was so terrifying.” He said the last sentence as if it was a good thing, too.

At the threats of violence, Su ShouFan frowned and raised her aura. Qi spilled out of her, light and airy, yet it gripped onto Mercury’s heart with a frosty touch. Like an icy demon’s hand clutching his most precious organ. 

Okay, precious was generous. But like, to most people a heart would surely be very important. He’d be mostly okay if it exploded, of course, but something about her power made him hesitate. Those claws of frost felt like they might do more than superficial damage.

Was this what a genuine threat from a cultivator looked like?

He drank in that knowledge. It was an ability he didn’t use a lot, a somewhat neglected aspect of <Answer> that usually happened passively, but he could taste information, these days, and frankly, he should probably try it. Right now, the actions of ShouFan tasted like a genuine threat.

Gun-Byeong narrowed his eyes at her. His qi rose. Ji BaiYun’s forehead-vein pulsed again. “Young missy,” he said to the woman who looked about as fresh as a fossil, “I’d drop that technique if I were you.”

“Senior Ji,” Su ShouFan said, “I’d recommend for you to withdraw your aura, or I will have to mutilate you.”

“You’ll die.”

She smiled. “I may,” she said. “And another would pick up my mantle. Yet, you’d still be maimed.”

Ji BaiYun frowned even more. Yet, in the end, he backed down. Gun-Byeong drew a massive paw back, shooting Mercury a smile and a wink. Su ShouFan settled down again, and for a little while, calm returned to the clearing. 

“So,” Su ShouFan started, “if you’re a sorcerer, why did you come to these lands?”

Mercury smiled at that. “To find the Skyflame Monks. I’m cursed by the sun, you see?” He pulled back a piece of cloth that covered his arm, and instantly, his skin began to smoke and charr. Su ShouFan’s eyes went wide.

“Cursed,” she whispered. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. 

Keiko stared at him with renewed interest, trailing her chin with aged fingers. “You’re cursed, you say? Why, we’re specialists in curses, even. You might have a spot here, after all.”

“I’m already a disciple,” Mercury proclaimed proudly. “I registered with the peak of Slaughter.”

Tension instantly flooded the area. Kang Tae-Yoon turned to Gun-Byeong and frowned. “You snatched him up instantly, huh? Trying to suddenly play the factions game?”

At the very mention of factions, Mercury saw hostilities blossom between the peak masters like flowers in spring. Postures shifted, hands drifted to weapons, and eyes narrowed. Killing intent spilled forth in a tide, and he saw the absolute fragility of this balance.

Sighing softly, Mercury brought up his hands. “I’m not going to join any faction,” he said. “In fact, I’ll probably help you all out. To get contribution points and learn.”

“Hmph,” Ji BaiYun cleared his throat, giving Mercury a sneer. “Well, out of all of these, I suppose you’ll need at least one competent teacher,” he said.

And again, the atmosphere shifted. Kang, the deceitful scholar that he was, picked up on it instantly. Mercury saw a shimmer glide across his glasses, but the handsome man just smiled. “You think you’re the best teacher among us? Why, I bet I can teach him my illusion techniques to far greater mastery than your lightning.”

“He’s already cursed,” Su ShouFan interrupted. “He’ll be best suited to my maiming arts.”

“As if,” Keiko snorted. “The man recognized a healer from smell alone. I’ll teach ‘im.”

Pali grinned wildly at the contest. “Me too, me too! I want to teach the funny man!”

“It’s a competition, then!” Gun-Byeong proclaimed happily. “We all get him for a page! And at the end, we’ll see who was the best teacher!”

Mercury tilted his head. Well. This was… a bit weird, but it did quite suit a demonic cult. And it also suited him just fine. 

He could spare a few pages for this.

Magic Breaker Ch 97-99

Chapter 97: Lively town

The town was strange. Maneuvering it was a constant exercise in attention, with bridges made from rope and wood camouflaged with leaves cutting through the canopy, connecting different houses together. There were inns and guild halls, little connections between humans, and a much more diverse cast than on the third floor.

As seemed to be typical of cities, we also had someone’s Eye on us. This little place seemed under the purview of the Verdant Grove’s Mistress. Something we also swiftly notice is that species diversity has gone up a lot since the tunnels. 

Ascendancy wells across the floor tend to be a little jumbled, so things get more chaotic the higher up you climb. On the third floor, that effect is showing, especially since it’s a place with a lot of intelligent wildlife, some of whom live in the town, or adjacent to it. We see a few birds, packed with backpacks and funny goggles, one street food stall hanging halfway in the air, carried and tended to by a flock of hand-sized butterflies, and there are aphids spinning sugary treats in a few places.

It’s very alive. Enough to make Jess and Inu crack small smiles at the crowd, enough that Sylves stops every few steps, floating off a little and wondering about a new leaf or tree. She gets her finger bitten by a slightly hungry plant-person who promptly apologizes and states it as a reflex. 

There are people literally all around us. Above, below, to all sides, and I can see the way it comes in on our group, the way some want to reach out and interact, and others shrink in on themselves. It’s a little funny. Gently, I activate [Suppression] on the noise. Instantly, the lively city calms down a little more.

I can hear the way that Thatch asks a large pillbug for directions, and then takes the lead to a somewhat newly opened inn. Apparently, climbers have come by here recently, stopping for a little while before continuing their ascent. Running a pop-up-inn to make some money? How curious.

We walk in, letting the wooden door fall behind us, shutting out the bustling noise of the canopy. It was never exactly loud, but it was very bright and a constant low chittering. Apparently, that kind of background humming usually didn’t attract predators, but singular, loud noises did.

My thoughts focused on the person behind the counter. It was an older man, one that I recognized immediately. The [Archon of the Bathtub], whose inn got trashed in our escape from Espiree on the first floor. He looks at us. I look at him. His eyes drift to my missing arm.

“Souvenir?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, I killed Philia without too much trouble. This happened in an ascension well.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Name’s Harry.”

“Ion,” I reply.

He smiles a little, behind that beard. “I know that one, brat. Your real name. The one friends call you.”

“Are we friends?” I ask.

“I’ll give you a magic item if you tell me,” he promises.

“Snow,” I reply, without hesitation. 

Laughing behind his beard, he tosses me a wet rag of cloth. “Bahaha! Here. It’s something I got to help with my job. Give it a look.”

I do as asked, inspecting the tool. [Observation] brushes against the rag, and I spot a dozen tiny runic inscriptions. Instantly, the tower feeds me a trickle of information about the item, as if its description was somehow woven into it.

Huh. That must be something higher level crafters could do, huh? How fun. I should learn that.

Disregarding that thought, though, I focus on what the item is telling me about its function. A small runic array about killing bacteria. Another tone to dispel dust using some kind of disintegration magic, which makes it good at both cleaning, or, when fed with more mana, polishing a surface.

It’s an incredibly tiny application of incredibly destructive magic, in a way that I’m instantly curious about. Could I apply this sort of targeted, low-level instant-kill disinfection magic inside someone’s body? Mess up their immune system entirely? Scary.

But at the end of the day, it is just a rag made for cleaning. Now, it does that job incredibly well, with different mana amounts for disinfection, polishing, dusting, and so on. I like it. I hate when there’s something on my skin, and this will help with that. We’ve been upgrading our water-generating items so that we could wash properly, but this was very nice.

“Thank you,” I say. “I didn’t expect cleaning to be so adjacent to murder.”

Harry grins, tilting his head. “Oh?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

“Well, getting rid of bacteria is basically killing small things. And to get rid of dust, this… what, does it transform it into mana or something? Is it full scale matter transmutation?” I ask, eyes widening a little.

“Sure is,” he says. “Terrifyingly complicated spell for any person to make, but surprisingly cheap to buy from the tower in smaller applications.”

Ah. The rag is purchased from the tower then. But it definitely has been modified by a person… “Did you mess with the enchantment yourself?”

Harry’s grin widens, showing his teeth. His wings clink a little. “I did,” he says. And that’s all he says, providing no additional information. How curious. Does he want me to figure it out myself? 

With the conversation having ebbed off, I lightly tap Thatch, informing him that it’s his turn to talk. He gives me a confused look then smiles slightly, and nods. “We’d like to buy room and board for a week, if possible,” he says.

The negotiation starts and I tune them out, focusing on the cleaning rag in my hand. The essence from the beasts on the second floor whispers into my brains about how it might interact with anatomy, which is interesting. The enchantments are woven into the cloth, too, in a fascinatingly intricate display of skill.

Once again, the tower so easily made an item that seems absolutely incredible to me. Putting this on a shirt could mean that I might have it be clean forever. Compare that with some self-repair…

I could wear the same shirt for the rest of my life.

“Is it just me or are Snow’s eyes sparkling a bit?” Opal asks.

“Not just you,” Inu says with a soft sigh. “That’s that dangerous expression.”

Yeah. I’ll learn to make something like this, too. 

“Aaaaand bleeding from the eyes again,” Sylves shakes her head. “Silly Snow.”

I’ll learn.

Chapter 98: Downtime

An old scithian with amber wings steps through the ascension well up to the third floor. He has hair that is cropped short, and a well maintained beard. His yellow eyes are hard and piercing, his mouth set into a frown, with wrinkles that have etched themselves into his face over decades of misery.

Then, very slowly, he tilts his head upwards, looking at the eyes in the sky. 

[Respitia the Pure tolerates your ascension.]

With the speed of a tired snail, a smile spread across the man’s lips. “Yeah,” he chuckled to himself. “Tolerates. That certainly works.”

Finally, his exile was over. He breathed in the air, smelling how different it was from the second floor. Ten fucking years in that hellhole. Ten years travelling, getting hit by bits of the storm, and now, sent like a hunting dog after some rookie.

But.

It would let him work off his debt. He’d failed last floor - really, Ion was something else - but he got another chance. He’d even been promised a team. A team! Hah.

He would thank the rookie if he had the chance. Sadly, that’d need to wait until he was putting the young one in an early grave. But that was fine. 

Amber wings softly chimed in the wind as he enjoyed the sunlight on his face. It was so much brighter here than on the second floor. He had months to look forward to where he wouldn’t starve. There was even a chance he would be permanently forgiven for any crime if he managed this.

Ahhh, his crime. The smile on his face widened, thinking of what had gotten him banished. It was funny, wasn’t it? Ten years of misery, ten years of doom and occasional starvation, ten years of freezing his wings off in that shithole floor. 

And he’d do the same thing again.

Someone bumped into him, coming out of the ascendancy well.

“Hey, ow, watch where you’re standing, old man,” the young climber chided.

“Right, right,” he said, stepping forward onto the third floor. The leaves crackled wonderfully under his feet. He was in such a good mood, he wouldn’t even kill the idiot who’d smacked into him.

“Asshat,” the young climber said.

Sighing, the old man turned around. “Shhh. I’m having a nice day,” he said. “Don’t ruin it for me.” Then, slowly, he reached out, took the young one’s hand, and pulled it off his body at the wrist. There was no sound. No scream. Not even a wound. Just a clean pop as it came off.

Then the limb vanished, crumpling in on itself, as if sucked into a tiny black hole. 

Letting the young climber stare in shock at the lost limb, the old man with amber wings simply stepped forward. He closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle sound of the leaves crunching beneath his bare feet. He wore a long, silken robe, now, having changed back into a somewhat priestly garb.

After all, he was a priest of Respitia. He sneered at the notion. Technically true, but also, so very false. Sighing softly, he walked more. 

Today, just for a day, he wouldn’t indulge the bad memories. Today, just for a day, he’d hunt again. After all, that was who he was. Ezekiel Thorn, avatar of Respitia, descender, and the [Bright Priest of the Hunt].

He licked his lips. Freedom tasted delectable. The screaming behind him hardly registered to his ears.

- - -

PoV: Snow Okiyama - Ion

There is so much to do.

I love magic. That is the most accurate statement I can make to summarize my feelings about magic. I love it. The way mana flows, and lets me control it is so… convenient. The way I can use it to become just about self-sufficient. 

The ability to mess with my senses has been incredible. The thought of making clothing that’s comfortable and never breaks is amazing. I love magic. Taking it apart, learning it feels so incredibly fun. 

For the first time in ages I feel the way I did when I first heard music. The way the notes flowed together, the different instruments harmonizing and going into dissonance, the way they followed the beat. It was so sophisticated, and I wanted to learn it, too, so I took it apart.

And now, magic is that same way. There are underlying rules, and those rules are meant to be broken sometimes. Arcane runes, chants, hymns… I want to know all of them. There is something so very special about it.

Which means that deciding what to focus on is the hardest.

I want to improve my enchanting, for the sake of convenience. It has already improved my daily life. No more trips to a sink when I have a refilling water flask. No more being hot or cold when I can make items to regulate temperature. It’s wonderful - but it’s also, tragically, unnecessary.

My power lies in blocking others’ access to their skill. Breaking their builds, finding the keystones of the patterns their magic took, and then dismantling them. Slowing people down and picking them apart, bit by bit, that was my greatest strength. But it was also rigid, and could be countered.

Of course, I could work on countering those counters. Or on making myself more robust. Regrowing my arm would make enchanting easier, so maybe I should focus on healing, instead. But that’s time consuming and mana-intensive. I have so much my vessel is almost overflowing, but I still want to spend it effectively.

What I need is the thing I’ve been working on for so long. The ability to start building a lexicon. I know a handful of runes, a handful of patterns, and the booklet I’ve bought from the tower is full of sketches by now. Images of other abilities I’ve broken and tried to put down. 

I’ve gotten a little rusty at art, but they are still nice. And yet, they aren’t enough. I can’t create perfectly accurate images of parts of three-dimensional patterns after only seeing them once. I just can’t. I need something better.

So, I've been working on a skill. For over a month now, and it’s still not done. I’ve analysed Inu’s [Reservoir], Bay’s [Part Storage], Thatch’s [Channel], Opal’s [Echo]... They all had bits and pieces I wanted to use, but combining them was hard. A trial and error type thing, where each mistake meant pretty significant backlash.

Since we got to the third floor, we’ve been restocking. Bought more items, gotten a picture of how things worked around here, and geared up for a reasonable expedition - or a fight. After all, we are expecting to get in trouble with the guild. There’s simply no way around it.

But that’s what the others have been doing. For that entire time, I’ve been sitting in my room like the leech I am, emptying my vessel in experimentation and hurting my brain. The skill feels so tantalizingly close and yet so far away. I sigh, pushing myself up from the floor, pulling off my headphones, and running my arm through my hair.

It’s sticky with dried bits of blood. I can feel the sticky red on my face. I’ve been bleeding again from pushing myself too hard. Sighing softly, I head down the stairs of the inn, to where Harry stood behind the bar.

Watching him polish a glass in a single motion of his hand was fascinating. He turned to look at me as he heard the footsteps, and gave a crooked smile. “Damn, Snow. You look like hell.”

“Could you prepare the bath for me?” I ask. We’ve paid enough chits for it. There’s a couple of the wonderfully smooth coins in my pockets, and I run a finger across them, enjoying the sensation of rounded metal on my skin. Those were earned mostly by selling the products we made from our jobs.

Harry nods. “Sure thing,” he says, and the [Archon of the Bathtub] heads into a backroom through a door with a bathtub on it. I follow quietly, ignoring the bits of noise in the inn as Mike, his husband, moves to serve food to customers.

The inn is bigger inside than it should be. There’s runes on the walls, so it’s not surprising, but it is notable. They’re so tiny it took me days to even spot them. Now, though, I notice them everywhere.

In front of me, Harry moves his hand over a smooth, stone spring filled with water. It’s artificial, set into the wooden floor of the inn, but equally covered with the runes. The hot-spring style tub is made from one single, solid piece of stone. Some fancy rock, I’m sure, though I can’t tell what kind. Opal would know more.

With a single, smooth motion, Harry waves his hand. I feel his mana spill forth, twist and bend and wind into a dozen effects, and then infuse into the pool. Instantly, it clears up. There’s a pleasant smell, a little like citrus fruit, and the water almost sparkles. “No foam,” he adds. “As usual.”

I nod, then walk into the bath, with my clothes on. I don’t really care if they get soaked, since they’re bloodstained and need to be washed, anyway. As per the usual, Harry gives me a bit of a confused look, then shakes his head. “I’ll be back to dry you off?”

Again, I nod at him, and he walks out of the room. I sink into the water. The fabric clings to my skin, and I [Suppress] my sense of touch. Suddenly, all the annoyance I felt at it is endlessly softened.

There’s something wonderful about disconnecting from the world that way. I close my eyes, too. The room is quiet. For just a little bit, I feel like there’s nothing outside of me and my own thoughts.

So, I think. As always, my thoughts move forward at their consistent, monotone pace. We’ve been resting for a few days now, and it was about time we got moving again, I think. Everyone has been a little less on edge, being allowed to relax, and buy some “luxuries”. Thatch got himself a set of paintbrushes, for example, and Opal has started collecting gemstones in a box again.

My teammates have their silly antics, and I have mine, after all.

But there is something I think about. The divide between my identities in the system. To my friends, I am Snow. To most of the world, they know Ion. The stormbreaker, the one hated by Respitia, the monster rookie. Except, everyone in the world knows that Ion is missing a patch of skin, having a bit of skull exposed.

And, well, of course I have that, too. Except, of course, I can hide that.

Smiling faintly, I think of my next trick to pull. This one could be a lot of fun. Quietly, in the almost-silent bathhouse, accompanied only by the sound of flowing water, I turn to my shadow. “Hey, Kuro?” I ask, and the inky critter perks up. “Can you manifest into a piece of clothing?”

As if to answer the question, the shadows underneath me swirl for a moment. Inky darkness creeps up my leg, over my hips, up the side of my chest, and settles on my shoulder. From there, Kuro unfurls. 

Before, they’ve turned into a centipede or other animals, but this is the first time they turn into something akin to clothing. Stygian darkness slithers up the side of my neck, then peels itself off, weaving into thin air. I can tell that the little critter is cycling through ideas for my outfit, and I smile quietly as they work through a few shapes.

In the end, kuro weaves into a chitinous shawl across my neck that unfurls into a short cape behind my back. And, of course, it rises high enough on the side of my face to hide the bit of my skull that pokes out from my skin. I tap my fingers against the shadowy material and hear it click like chitin against my nails. Smiling softly, I nod.

Maybe, eventually, I can get Kuro to just cover my entire face? Then no one would tell me to smile more. How wonderful would that be.

For now, though, I was just happy to maintain my anonymity as Snow. Even if it was kind of funny that I would be wearing a mask when using my personal name, instead of when I used the anonymous one. Ah, well. Such is life.

Now that none of the actions can be traced back to me, maybe it’s time to cause more trouble. Probably.

Surely.

Chapter 99: Preparations

Harry looks at me with a confused expression. “Snow. Where’d the…” he gestured vaguely at my neck, “thing come from?” he asks.

I smile faintly. “That’s Kuro,” I say. “Back on floor zero, they burrowed under my skin and tried to eat me from the inside out. Then I stabbed them. Now, we’re friends.” 

The older man looks at me for a long moment, scratching his beard. The crystals of his wings tinkle against one another as he contemplates. “Right,” he says slowly. “You understand that this is an avatar, yes?”

“Sure,” I reply.

“And that it may bring trouble to flaunt it so openly?” he asks.

Gently, my smile fades. “Sure,” I say. If Kuro causes trouble, then I’ll take care of it. “I’ll make people think I’m a shadow mage, or something,” I say, easily.

Harry sighs, softly. “And, somehow, this will still be less conspicuous than how you usually look,” he says. “Right, right.”

“Now, will you dry me off, or should I walk around your establishment entirely soaked?” I ask. The wet clothes cling to my skin.

“Ah!” the old man quickly splutters, face turning the faintest shade of red as he looks away and waves his hand. The water is “cleaned” off of me. Droplets scatter to the ground, slowly flowing back into the pool. Bits of dried blood are in the clean water, but they dissolve, too.

The whole spring is enchanted with cleaning magic. Tiny disintegration runes that break and eradicate things at a molecular level. It’s wonderful, watching them work, and Harry can easily speed up the process if he tries to.

Mike, the chef, laughs at his husband. “Bahaha! Always in your own head, huh? No wonder I had to propose before you knew we were dating,” he mocked. The zoof rarely poked his head out of the kitchen, usually only to banter or deliver food. Whenever he did, the plates would simply hover in the air around him.

I suspect that he has some kind of class related to telekinesis. One of the two must also be rather good at enchanting, and I’d place my bet on Harry. There was something about his hands that made me think he would have no trouble carving even into stone.

“Hey, Snow,” the chef turns to me. “Hungry?” 

“Yes,” I reply.

“Want a meal?”

“Yes.”

With another wink, the fluffy ball of fur disappears back into the kitchen. I don’t know how he manages to make the food without any hair falling into it, but there’s not been a single one in any of the meals I’ve eaten. And they’re very delicious.

Richard has pestered him into teaching her many, many times over, but the older man simply turned her away with a laugh. He refuses to let anyone else inside the kitchen. It’s his sanctuary. I find something of a kindred spirit in that.

Instead of causing more trouble, I simply sit down on one of the free chairs, adjusting the black scarf around my neck. With the long-sleeved shirt I got, I only need a long hoodie and maybe a pair of gloves to hide all my skin. Finding comfortable gloves is almost impossible, though. I sigh. Hopefully, Sylves and Amelie can make something soon.

After a little bit, I eat a meal that’s typical for the third floor - very heavy in greens. A little bit later, I’ve poured half my vessel into healing, since it was starting to hurt again, and move out.

The light from the three suns is bright, so I suppress my eyesight just a little, until it’s back to a tolerable level. It feels hot against my skin, but since I’m mostly covered, I can deal with it. My clothes are all lighter tones than usual, so it’s not too hot. Also, they’re lightly enchanted, which helps.

[Inscription 11 > 12]

I take a walk across the canopy. The sound of the leaves under my shoes is pleasant. They rustle and crunch ever so faintly, in a way that drowns out a lot of the random noise that tries to come my way. 

A few people steal glances my way, and I even feel a little bit of mana try to brush up against me, but I quickly take the small probe apart. It wasn’t made by anyone particularly skillful, so it’s not too difficult. I take a deep breath of the fresh air.

Above me, a flare flitters across the sky, and I walk alongside bridges woven from greenery and bits of wood. There’s a few destinations I could be headed to, but only one I’m actually walking towards. The woodlands guild.

It’s a large, wooden building, with doorways far taller than any human would ever need. Every part of it is made to be sturdy, made to last. The building sits proudly on the canopy, not at all camoflagued like so many other places. 

I sit down in the leaves near it, drawing the shadow-chitin shawl a bit higher, until it covers up to my nose. Then, cross my legs, and close my eyes, as if meditating. Climbers do all sorts of weird stuff, all the time, amusingly, so this doesn’t even get much attention.

Just nearby there are people arguing, people shopping, people eating on blankets spread across the green leaves, people practicing their skills, all in broad daylight. There is bustling activity.

Slowly, I place my headphones on my head, and activate my skills. I reach out, as I always do. Past the enchanted walls, made to be sturdy. Sneaking under people’s scans for foreign mana.

[Observation 6 > 7]

I find the little traps, and avoid them. My stream of dull grey [Selection] slowly wanders through the filled halls, slithering forward until I find a suitable target. Someone of reasonable renown in the guild, someone who’s not a minotaur and is collecting money from the proud, horned beasts.

Not someone too high up, though. Not someone more powerful than I can afford.

Almost invisible, my tether latches on. So thin that it doesn’t even tell me the name of his class. I thin it even more, until the thread of mana tying us together is no thicker than a hair.

[Selection 15 > 16]

It’s not the first time I’m doing this. It won’t be the last time either. 

Very gently, I reach into the box of tricks contained in [Deconstruction]. I pull out tiny tools, made to whittle away at someone. The most delicate instruments I can find. Then I get to work.

As I did with the mayor before, I shave away at the guild member’s class. Tiny packets of power course across that tether, dealing microscopic bits of damage to him, feeding the information back to me.

My Abiding Apathy devours the power, fueling my vessel. I take another thin shaving, experimenting with my skill. Trying out different ways to hide it, as Kuro cloaks me in an aura of obscurity. No one pays me any mind. Every other climber simply passes me by. Stealth enchantments, derived from Norman’s skills, carved on the inside of tiny rings, flicker into activation.

[Job up! Imbuer 3 > 4]

Silently, with no one to watch, I sabotage my enemies. Bits and pieces of skills, miniscule fragments of class knowledge, all of it flows across that link. I breathe it in, slowly, letting it feed my understanding, finding keystones of the class.

[Deconstruction 11 > 12]

[Class up! Nullmage 5 > 7]

It’s tiny. In and of itself, each cast of the skill does almost nothing. And yet, I learn. How to do things sneakily, how to hide the damage from the people using the class. I destabilize things, I make it all the more fragile, and I build a catalogue. I learn and prepare, so that when the time comes to fight…

I can break them, too.

- - -

Eventually, my mana reached a quarter of what I can hold. Slowly, I open my eyes, take off my headphones, and disconnect the tether. I stretch a bit, then walk back to the inn. Only there do I disable the rings.

We all have our parts to play. Mine is training, and undermining our enemies. So I do just that. In the inn, I sit in my room and experiment with the memory skill again. I bleed a little, but now that Kuro is so close to my face, the critter simply devours the blood. Time passes, bit by bit, and in the evening, Opal walks into my room.

They look around, grinning brightly, and then find me. Instantly, their expression freezes. “Holy shit,” they mutter. “That’s… so cool.”

“Huh?” I ask.

A moment later, they blink to my side. “Snow,” they say. “That’s so edgy. Like, the edgiest. And yet, you pull it off so well! You have no right to look this good!!” they say, grinning brightly. “The half-mask style really suits you! And dang, the cape!”

I look at Opal for a long moment. “Oh,” I say, realizing they mean Kuro’s shawl-form. “Thanks?”

Smiling, the enby sits down next to me, laying down sideways on the bed. “I mean it.”

“Of course you do,” I say. “I really did expect you to tease me for the edginess more.”

They nod. “Reasonable assumption to make. But nah. I’m in a good mood.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“We’ve found our minotaur guide,” they reply, giving me a sly smile. “Unlicensed from the guild.”

My eyes glitter, just a little. Now they have my attention. Sounds like it’s finally time for an expedition into the undergrowth. I can’t wait to see what’s down there.

Magic Breaker Ch 94-96

Chapter 94: Shadow Bracelet

A lot.

What I learn is a lot. 

The first tidbit is that I don’t get hungry. Something about this space makes it so I don’t need too many calories, mostly supplemented by my [Restoration] spell. It’s weird in the way that it ticks - when fixing wounds it consumes calories, but when there are no wounds to be addressed, it seems to supplement them? What a flexible working. I should praise whoever designed it.

But that is not where most of my improvement comes from.

I don’t see many skill levels, in fact, it’s just one. 

[Observation 6 > 7]

That’s the only concrete level. My vessel is overflowing with mana, and the pain decreases slightly as time goes on. It’s a weird thing, feeling it fade when there is still just enough mana, but when I check my stat screen, I see that my heart has grown by another two points at the end of the week, which is nice. Free stats are always lovely. 

What the system does not record is Kuro’s growth, and the understanding that has blossomed between us. I reach out, gently touching the thread of shadow between us. It’s funny, the way essence works, really.

I was granted knowledge - or, well, a talent, really - for weaving moonlight by the silver lake. Now, here I am, twisting that ability. Kuro draws a thread of shadow from the gloom that suffuses this glum city, and under the watchful Eye of the Creeping Darkness, I weave it into the band. 

There’s a bracelet of threads hanging from my wrist. It’s a little wide, sitting loose, and its touch is so faint I can hardly feel it if I don’t focus on it. Which is wonderful. But what it does is enhance my connection to Kuro. 

By now, I can intuit their emotions and gestures a lot better. They resonate with the bracelet, and some kind of bond we have forged. The critter is attached to me, and seems to quite like me, too. Sometimes, they walk around as a squishy centipede, and other times as a blob of tendrils. It’s kind of cute, seeing them shift and experiment with their body.

We practiced interweaving our skills, too. I deconstructed theirs a hundred times over, and fed them mana from my overflowing vessel. That is another benefit of the bracelet; it easily lets my power flow down that shadowy tendril and into my companion. 

And yet, we are not quite done.

Oh, sure, the bracelet is, but there are still a few minutes left in this gloomy place. Which means, there is one more thing I need to do. Slowly, I take a deep breath.

“Hey, Creeping Darkness?” I ask, quietly. It’s among the very few words I’ve spoken in this time, so the Eye snaps to me, showing its attention. I know it’s watching. So, I have a request. “Could you close your Eye for a bit?”

There’s a pause. With my upgraded [Observation] I think there might be a tremor in its pupil. But that’s okay. I just wait. This is its choice to make. And so I leave it to make that choice.

[The Creeping Darkness inquires as to the purpose. It wants to ensure that Kuro won’t be harmed.]

I nod. That’s a reasonable concern, though it’s also incredibly insulting. It makes me reconsider this next step. It makes me bristle and want to grow vines. But I do my best to let it pass, and simply take another deep breath.

“You’ll have to trust me,” I say. “That’s my requirement.”

Of course, if it were any other Eye, I’d have no business negotiating. They’d want to smite me down the second I got mouthy, and yet, this strange critter has observed me play and practice with my shadowy friend for a while, now. So, I can see it listening. The Eye seems like a bit of a sentimental creature, after all.

Slowly, the seconds trickle by. Until there’s only a minute left in the trial.

And then, ever so slowly, the sky changes. I see the dark firmament closing around the eye, the space itself stitching together. Its lids slowly grow closer, then shut entirely, and for the first time since the end of the world, I am unobserved. Just me and Kuro.

Slowly, a smile spreads across my face. After all, the Darkness has decided to trust me. The same kind of unexplained trust that my friends have shown me.

I started with two skills. [Suppression] and [Selection]. Those two dictate who I am as a person. And they came with their intended uses, ones I was incredibly aware of. Slowly, I take a breath.

Then, with thirty seconds left, I activate [Selection]

For the first time since the end of the world, I use the skill for one of its intended uses. I use it for the thing that meant it was granted to me.

[Selection] wraps around Kuro, around this shadow critter I have only known for a few months now, and yet, it has never betrayed me. Animals are easy like that. Trustworthy, and open. They don’t lie, they’re honest, and so, Kuro deserves it.

I select them as a friend.

[Selection 11 > 15]

The use changes the skill profoundly. It’s like finally using a fork to eat after trying to stab someone to death with it for months. The intended usage passes over me, and burrows inside the Abiding Apathy. My skill acknowledges my choice, and I look at Kuro, at my new friend.

From my shadow, two big eyes look back at me. Cute, friendly, entirely trusting. Willing to go full on ride or die with me.

I smile. “You and me, buddy. Let’s show this tower what we’re made of.”

[Challenge completed. Ascend.]

And then, the trial ends, and I appear on the third floor.

Chapter 95: Canopy Counselling

The third floor hits me with a wave of humidity. The ground below is soft and spongy, giving whenever I step on it, but still able to support my weight. It seems to be made up of… leaves?

Sylves is floating above it, eyeing them with curiosity, poking at the ground. Richard is stuffing a few handfuls into her mouth. I look around, seeing that the elevation changes, but the entire ground seems to be made from the greens. There are many constructs made from dark wood; scattered houses built into the formations.

That’s when it clicks. I’m walking on top of a canopy. There’s a forest below - one that’s so dense that the leaves are enough to hold my weight. The trees must be titanic. Ancient, too. And just a few steps next to me, Richard is devouring some.

I get so stunned that I almost miss when someone stumbles out of the ascendancy well. It’s a young woman, bloodied and bruised, who almost crashes into me, but Kuro quickly deflects her with a shadowy barrier, making her stumble off to the side. Mentally, I think them for preventing my shirt from getting bloody.

That’s an inside thought that I don’t voice, though. Instead, I quickly flick my eyes across the notification. 

[Congratulations!]

[You have made it to the third floor! For your performance in the ascendancy well, you have acquired 2 minor requests.]

I quickly tuck that knowledge aside, and kneel down to the injured woman. Her eyes are barely open, and her heart is hammering so fast that it’s getting on my nerves. I [Select] her as a target for my healing skill, then pump a quarter of my mana into it.

Instantly, the golden-white mist seeps into her, clinging to the wounds. The glow crawls over bits of torn and broken skin, mending it. Scrapes disappear, gashes crust over. The lingering effect clings, speeding up the natural healing and making sure the skin is healthy and flexible as it regrows. I smile at the improvements I’ve made to the skill. 

The woman’s eye flicker open, and she turns to me. Instantly, that gaze narrows in distrust. A frown creases her dark lips, and she brushes her wiry black hair back with a motion of her hand. “Who’re you?” she asks.

“Your healer,” I reply. “That’ll be one minor request.”

She stares, and her frown deepens. “I woulda been fine,” she says, grumpily.

I shake my head. “You probably would’ve bled out. Maybe lured some big predator from the undergrowth and gotten eaten.”

At that, she frowns even more. “I ain’t paying you shit, fucker. Not giving you the favour I just earned from the tower.” The crystalline wings behind her flare, and I note that she’s scythian.

“Shame,” I say, as a dagger of mana manifests in my hand. It glows with a grey tint, imbued with a haze of suppression that I experimentally slapped on. “Time to put you back to how I found you, then.”

Sylves pats my shoulder. The one with my missing arm. “Ion,” she says gently, but just loud enough for the woman to hear, “c’mon. Don’t be like that.” 

My face remains entirely neutral. “Sorry Titania, but you know how I am about refunds,” I reply. Sylves mimes a terrible frown, grimacing at the woman in sympathy, and combined with my alias, it clicks for her.

“... Ion?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say. “That’d be me.”

She swallows. “What do you want me to use the request on?”

I smile kindly, handing her the rune booklet. “Please ask for more runes to be added to that,” I say.

Very slowly, she takes the object from me, making sure her fingers don’t touch the dagger still half-held in my single hand. Then she speaks the request out loud, and after a brief glow, the tiny volume has a few more pages.

After that, she quickly slinks off. Making money from healing truly is the best.

- - -

One by one, members of my team trickle in. Norman made it up easily, having already cleared the trial beforehand. He takes a long drink from an enhanced refilling phial that another group “donated” when they refused to pay. Richard is still stuffing her face with leaves, and Sylves has begun trying to weave with them.

Opal comes out tired and naps, Jess squints into the three suns overhead. Tons of light spill forth from them, feeding the sea of trees below. We cook a meal from some more edible plants that Richard points out, and take a rest. 

Sleeping near an ascendancy well usually would not go well, but we manage anyway. The most notable occurrence is Vincent coming out, entirely unscathed. He waits for his team, but they never show up, so he shrugs and tags along with another group. He gives me a sly smile as he treks off.

Fucker.

Instead of paying him any mind, I practice some more. My shoulder-stump itches, so I change up the inscriptions in it a bit, making sure to optimize the healing. I need to cut it open every so often to make sure that it has a chance to regrow properly, but that’s not too much trouble at all.

One by one, each person from our team makes it up. Dar is the most hurt, but also the most pleased with his performance. He might be carved up, but something about him has changed, I can see that. His orange eyes glow just a little brighter, and his vessel is just a little stronger. He instantly spends both the favours he earned on enhancing his claw-weapon things.

When everyone is gathered, we sleep for one more day. 

This floor is less taxing on resources than the previous one. Instead, really, staying still is as safe as can be. But that’s exactly the trouble.

[Ascension Quest: Labyrinth. The only ways to ascend are in the undergrowth. Abandon the protective light of the sun, survive the treacherous forest, and find a Well yourself.]

The tower doesn’t highlight the points of ascension on this floor. It’s the first trap for new climbers, because the third floor is hard. The undergrowth is full of brutal ambushes and traps, full of things that stalk the darkness and kill while one sleeps. But it is the only way to ascend.

Up above, in the canopy, there are cities carved into the trees. That’s where Norman traded for a fae-bait thing for the storm. But down there? No civilization. It is a constant free-for-all, where half-sentient plants were hungry for blood. 

And it was also the only way further up the tower. Luckily, I needed to reach level 50, anyway, so a bit of experience will go a long way.

Chapter 96: Guilds and Guillotines

Some more favours are earned via my healing and spent on survival-type items before the well closes and moves. Jean got himself a better refilling water flask, too, and his is somehow styled as a potion bottle.

I make someone change mine to have a sturdy metal exterior, and a top that I can flip up to drink like a straw, or screw off entirely. Yes, it’s vain, but it makes it feel a little more like home. In the same way that my headphones do.

Another favour is spent on those - getting yet another phone for Bay to experiment with. She better figure out charging soon, or I might have to look into finding a new mechanic. Or experimenting myself, which would probably blow up.

So, instead of trying to mess with electronics, I just weave a few more crystalline mana threads inside my skull. The way Thatch looks at me means he can see them, but is willing to bear with them for now. I wish I could take away his guilt at killing - and I could [Suppress] it, of course - but it would be unfair. He is suffering, but that is something he probably has to go through. 

That’s fine, in the end. 

He suffers, but it’s okay. If he needs support, I’ll be there.

In the end, we do move. First, to another city on the canopy. They’re not too hard to spot - in fact, they fire off flares every so often, drawing arcing parabolas through the sky. It’s a practice that’s established itself - since it lets people above the canopy know their location, while drawing the wildlife below somewhere else, chasing after the flashes only once they’ve broken through the dense wall of leaves somewhere else.

And, at those points, guards can go to cull the wildlife.

It’s brutal, but also brutally efficient. Somehow, I’m tempted to find a group of ants again and see if I can help them wage war on the humans, but decide against it. The quest is simple, this time. Just survive and find a way up, once we’re strong enough. So we wait until Thatch spots a flare, then head to the city.

Walking under the three suns is taxing, but not as much as it should be. It feels like there’s a lot less warmth coming from them than from our sun back on earth. Instead, they shed incredibly bright light, to the point where I have to ask Bay for a pair of sunglasses and suppress my own vision.

The light does reflect off Richard’s blue micro-scales nicely though. She glints a little in the sunlight, and seems very charmed with it, spinning in her makeshift suit. 

After a few hours, we reach the outpost Thatch spotted. Amelie took some more time, since rolling her wheelchair across the uneven foliage is a bit troublesome, but she managed well. It’s fun seeing the way things are built. The houses are half-woven, half-carved into the wood. Branches twist around the huts, living leaves sprouting from their walls in ways that makes Sylves squeal in delight. And then others are buried in foliage, with cut boards jointed and nailed together.

The houses stack upwards a little, but extend below. In fact, someone opens a hatch in the canopy right in front of me even as we just approached. Jean jumps a bit. I look at him, and at Isabelle, sighing softly. We would probably separate at this outpost - which was fine, too. Jean would probably sell his healing-

My thoughts were interrupted when a zoof awkwardly climbed through the hatch, their snowy fur compressing as they crawled out. “Watch where you step,” they said, voice a little high and scratchy. “You were ratting my ceiling with the noise you’re making. New to this floor?”

I nod.

“Fricken obvious,” they sigh, rubbing their face with those scrawny hands and elongated fingers. “Minotaur in your party?”

Thatch steps forward, graciously replacing me in the conversation, and shakes his head. “No, no minotaurs. Why?”

The zoof scoffs. “Labyrinth sense,” they say, as if it were meant to be obvious. “Means they often make incredible guides for the undergrowth. But no wonder. The guild keeps a tight leash on them.”

Sylves tilts her head at that, a faint frown playing across her lips. “The guild?” she asks.

Once again, the local sighs in exasperation. “Yeah, the woodlands guild. Third floor staple, keeps all the maps and best guides to themselves. Anyone doing tours without their permission gets strong-armed. Anyone selling maps? Cracked down on. If you aren’t paying them, you aren’t going up.”

I look at Sylves, at the way she frowns, then at Opal’s fingers, tapping the hilt of their sword, and the way Thatch and Inu clench their fists. Softly, I sigh. “Does this guild force people into their service?”

“They kill those who don’t pay a chunk of change for using them as a broker,” the zoof says. “So, basically the same, yes.”

Softly, I sigh. “I see. Can you point us at their nearest hall.”

“Biggest building,” they say, pointing at a giant agglomeration of verdant leaves and dark wood, carved from boards and hovering precipitously in the canopy. “Can’t miss it.”

With one last nod, we take note of the location. Seems like we found where we’ll be making trouble this floor. I eye my friends one more time. Seriously, not a quiet moment with these people.

Ah well. If they want a silly guild burned to the ground, I’ll burn it to the ground. No questions asked.

Magic Breaker Ch 91-93

Chapter 91: Awakening

/Oh, Ion? Yeah, they were part of my caravan on the second floor. What, you want me to tell you what they’re like? Heh.

Feckin’ monster. When that party left, the others in the caravan started to call that monster Stormbreaker. First time on the second floor, starves for twenty days, then walks right into that icy hell and chases it away.

That’s not to mention the way Ion fought. It was a massacre. When the fae came at night, they simply fell apart. Disintegrated. And then, when Ion stabbed them, they couldn’t dodge. It was like watching a butcher at work, The fae just fell apart as that monster waved a little knife about.

Could I take the rookie? Uhhhh, yeah. ‘Course. Sure. Don’t… don’t tell Ion I said that, though./

-Captain Malcolm, lv. 55 Caraveneer

- - - 

PoV: Snow Okiyama - Ion

I blink open my eyes. The world’s all blurry, and I wipe them down with my single arm’s torn sleeve. My open wound on my skull throbs. All the mana constructs inside me are all out of order. My testing’s been properly messed up and I’ll have to redo the healing stuff.

This time, instead of Thatch’s face, it’s Sylves’ I wake up to. 

Of course, I remember. I feel embarrassed, even. Sleepy me needs to learn to talk better. But, then again, I know the answer to my question, too. William Riley. The name’s burnt into my head now. I won’t forget it.

“Morning, Snow,” Sylves whispers gently. Her voice gets carried by the wind and tickles my ears. It’s so quiet. I smile, faintly, at her kindness. “Did you sleep well?”

“I feel terrible,” I reply.

She smiles, brightly. “Deserved,” she says, her blonde hair blowing in the faint wind. “Don’t just pull stunts like that, please.”

“Sure,” I say.

Inu pokes my cheek. I grimace a bit at the feeling of pins and needles it gives. Slowly, I pour mana into my healing skill. “Liar,” the tall girl chides. 

I raise my hands in defense. “Caught me,” I deadpan.

She frowns, but doesn’t poke me again. Instead, Opal hands me a bowl of stew. My stomach rumbles so loudly it hurts. I blink for a moment. “You were out long enough that more food grew,” they say. “Eat.”

They don’t need to tell me twice. I descend on the meal like a starving lion. 

- - -

Eventually, the food is done. I talk with the others a bit, and they chide me for my silliness. All of their words are true, of course, so I accept them graciously. “What happened while I was out?”

“Not much,” Thatch says calmly.

“Some idiots tried to approach,” Amelie adds. “A few even tried to push the issue, like the girl who tried that little manipulation stunt on you before.”

“The one that cried to her mom?” I ask, scanning the camp for her. It doesn’t take long to find the girl, sitting in the grass, a poorly made splint around one of her hands.

Amelie nods. “That one,” she agrees. “Sylves made her stomach cramp, then Thatch broke two of her fingers.”

He chuckles embarrassedly. “Oops?” he says. I look at him, into his eyes. 

Something about his look makes me think she’s lucky he didn’t tear them off.

I nod along. “Thanks,” I say. “When are we moving on?” 

“Everyone’s all levelled,” Dar says. I’m a little surprised at that. Wasn’t Bay missing some? I look at her.

“Threw a few bombs into the wind,” she says. “Caught a couple fairies bad enough that I got credit, which took me over the edge.”

Slowly, I nod. “Nice,” I say. That’s good. Everyone got there over the nightly combat. 

“We can leave whenever,” Richard says. “Finding beasts willing to pull our wagon would be easy, too.”

At that, captain Malcolm perks up. “Now, now,” he says. “I can’t have ye takin’ a wagon with ya. That’d be real shabby, with how much rebuilding we needa do.”

I look at the blood-splattered boards where an entire house was wiped out. The faint, amicable smile freezes on the captain’s face. My skin is slowly thawing, so I rise to my feet. “We’ll be taking a few of those boards.”

“The boards ain’t the problem,” he says, “the beasts are.”

Slowly, I tilt my head. “The ones you wanted to slaughter and eat?”

“They’re bonded with tamers.”

“Tamers which are now corpses,” I say, slowly. “Tamers which would have all been corpses without me.”

He sighs, rubbing his face. “Look, Snow…”

“That’s Ion to you,” I interrupt. He freezes, just slightly. “Let me be very clear. I’m not asking. I’m letting you know what will happen.”

Very slowly, I see captain Malcolm’s hands trail to the axe he keeps on his back. But it’s not there. Norman holds it, just a few steps away. These older climbers always think they’re hot shit, don’t they? It pisses me off.

My vessel is full again, after the sleep. Slightly depleted from repairing my constructs, maybe. I manifest a long dagger of blueish-grey mana in my hand. It’s surrounded by a dense aura of [Suppression], the skills woven around each other.

[Suppression 14 > 15]

It clearly works, given the menacing pressure of the weapon. The captain slowly, placatingly raises his hands. “Now, now. There’s no need for violence.”

A smile spreads across my lips. “So glad to hear it,” I reply. With the hole in my skull and the flaking frostbite on my skin, I must be looking a little terrifying. All my muscles still ache, and my feet are fucked up from marching through the snow for so long, but I ignore the pain, pressing it down. Instead, I just watch the captain for another second.

He takes a step back.

I let the dagger dispel itself, then look to Sylves. “Fly me over to the beasts, could you?” I ask.

She blinks. “Why not walk?”

“My feet hurt.”

“I see,” she replies, then sighs dramatically. “Fine then.” A gust of wind sweeps my off my feet. “Let us see thine furry companions.” 

We leave the speechless old man behind. Opal pats him on the shoulder, and Dar laughs at his misery. I look at Norman and he nods. I’m gonna get a look at the axe before we leave. How nice of the captain to donate it.

Ah, enchanting, right. I have a job to evolve.

Chapter 92: Problem Solver

While floating to the barn, I call up my notifications. [Inscription] levelled from making the cloak, and it was enough of a masterpiece to advance my job. So, I pull up the options.

[Job Options: <Tinkerer>, <Preserver>, <Musician>, [New!] <Engraver>, [New!] <Threadspinner>, [New!] <Imbuer>, [New!] <Scrollmaker>, [New!] <Biochanter>, [New!] <Shadowbinder>, [Altered!] <Moonlight Mage>, <Darkfletcher (sponsored)>, <Agonyforger (sponsored)>]

Curious. Moonlight Weaver turned into Moonlight Mage. Probably influenced by the fact that I’d done cloth enchanting? That’s most likely also where Threadspinner came from - I doubt it’s as pure a tailoring job as Sylves’.

Scrollmaker is out. It sounds like making temporary enchantments, and that just does not seem very interesting at all. Engraver, too, is a little too limiting, and I dislike Threadspinner for the same reasons. I don’t want to specialize in one kind of item. I wanna be able to work with metals and cloth and wood and anything else. 

Shadowbinder is interesting. It’s probably there because of my connection with Kuro. The adorable critter in my shadow. I should feed it some blood later today. 

For now, though, it’s out. I don’t have that much interest in binding shadows, even if it would be cool, when I still plan on stealing that kind of magic from Kuro’s skills. That should be doable, at least.

Which leaves Biochanter and Imbuer. I like both of these, since I’m pretty sure they’re offered since I’m pushing on their domains. Biochanter feels like it’s related to, well, enchanting living things. In a way, that’s similar to the constructs I’m spinning inside my body. Making those kinds of enchantments ‘stick’ properly would be nice.

But. 

Imbuer. The name is vague, but when reaching out with [Selection], I can pull a little more information. It’s about skills and the way they interact with creations. This one, I think, will let me cheat a little. In that it might let me make enchantments based on acquired or understood skills more easily, derive new runes faster and also… enchant my temporary creations.

Kind of similar to how I poured a bit of [Suppression] into my dagger, just… better. More permanent, and all that.

Reaching out, I pick Imbuer.

[Job gained: <Imbuer>]

[Stat bonuses: +1 > +3 Vessel per level]

[Experience modules: Enchanting, Imbuing]

And then, a moment later.

[Job up! Imbuer 0 > 3]

Nine more points trickle into vessel, experience that was “left over” after my masterpiece was acknowledged. Apparently, the cloak was just that good. Granted, I did spend a good three weeks working on it nonstop, using some pretty experimental enchantments. The pressure against my chest instantly redoubled, starting to hurt a little.

Ah, that was with [Suppression]. It hurt a lot, actually. Wow. 

Quickly, I poured a lot more mana into [Biological Restoration], letting it knit my messed up body back together, discarding frozen cells and making new ones from the food in my stomach. 

[Essence Bestowed: Imbuement.]

The second part of my new job came in, pouring into my head. An instant, tiny fragment of knowledge about the way skills were constructed, and how to harness those patterns. As the knowledge was still flooding into me, I already grimaced, remaking every single one of the tiny healing modules I’d left in my arm.

Then I remade them over twice more, before I was satisfied. Dang. Even just a whisper of new essence had helped so much. It made it a lot easier to understand why I was able to figure out cloth enchanting so quickly - that was the essence from the moonlit lake at work. It bothered me a little, but at the end of the day, that knowledge was now a part of me.

I sighed, then let it go. 

“We’re here,” Sylves says.

She’s lying. We’d been here for a little while, but she waited for me to finish my job selection. I smile a little. “Thanks,” I say, then push the doors open to the barn.

It smells better than I’d expect. The ice stopped much bacteria from growing, and the animals are smarter than those back on earth and remarkably clean. Their eyes turn to me for a long moment, before one of them approaches. 

Like most of them, it’s a large thing, taller than me and brodader, not to mention that it’s quadrupedal. The beasts are strong. And yet, it very gently places its head closer to me, careful that its horns and antlers don’t poke me.

Slowly, I reach out my hand to its snout, and it presses into it, my hand sinking into the fur. A small laugh bubbles from my chest, and I pet the beast’s head, rubbing the thick, leathery skin under the fur. It’s warm and soft and a little damn from melted ice. 

The thing huffs in amusement, but doesn’t try to lick me, which I’m grateful for. A few more of the animals crowd around me. They recognize me. Recognize that I killed people for them, and that I healed them when the frost got too bad.

Some still died, but I was there, and they remember. Now the storm was gone, and I returned, frostbitten. The pieces of the puzzle were not hard to complete.

A trickle of essence flows into me. Then another, and another. About half of the beasts use favours, earned from the tower, to thank me. They gift me with more knowledge on anatomy, on healing, on magic and communication. It’s… nice. 

Funny, isn’t it? When I heal people, I have to demand payment. They don’t want to give anything, think themselves above it. Greedy and ungrateful. And yet, when I heal beasts, they welcome me into their fold and thank me for it. I don’t expect payment, and yet, here I am, receiving it.

How amusing. 

I run my hand through the inson’s fur once more, then smile. “Would any of you like to pull our wagon to an ascendancy well?” I ask.

None of them reply, seemingly confused at my words. Hmm.

“Want me to fetch a tamer?” Sylves asks.

Slowly, I nod. “The one whose inson I healed before it died to the frost. He seemed a decent fellow.”

She quickly gives me a bright smile. “Got it!” Then she darts off, blonde hair fluttering in the wind. I lean against the wall and wait, watching the animals chew on the grass, when they present me with one of their injured.

A younger beast, who somehow made it through the cold. Still, the critter is frostbitten and hurt, breathing in shallow bursts. Without hesitation, I pour mana into [Biological Restoration].

With my new knowledge, I alter the healing skill even more. The essence guides my actions, and I activate the skill multiple times in rapid succession, each time with different alterations. One configuration to help its heart beat more easily. Another to warm its blood. A third to regenerate the hurt cells, and another, much more slow one to help it metabolize properly.

Half of my vessel empties out in moments and the pain in my chest disappears. White-gold mana seeps into the beast, and I can feel the spell take hold. It sticks to the inson’s muscles, seeping below its skin and fuelling its body. Reserves of fat are burnt away, and some muscles atrophy slightly to fuel the healing, but it still heals.

The mana provides enough power to restore its lungs and heart, to stave off the frostbite in its back legs. Despite everything, it will heal fully. I sigh in relief, then nod at the beasts, which huff and moo at me pleasantly, as if there had never been any doubt I could solve the problem. It makes me laugh, just a little, and suddenly, waiting for the beast tamer isn’t so bad at all.

Chapter 93: Ascendancy Well

The rest of our time in the camp passes quickly. We get a tamer, he communicates with the inson for us, two of them are selected to accompany us to the ascendancy well. A few other groups also had enough of the second floor, and want to travel with us.

Those, however, have to recruit their own tamers and beasts. I’m not spending any of my goodwill on them. Nepotism girly with the broken fingers stares at me furiously. Jean’s legs dangle off the back of the cart, even as Isabelle, his grandmother, gives me the stink eye. Maximillian and his group trudge along, too, as well as some of the species that have had more time in the tower.

I’m pretty sure that with the storm distracted, many groups will be heading for an ascension well, and, within a few days, that suspicion proves true. 

[Observation 5 > 6]

Dozens of hopeful climbers crowd around the well, the golden script sending a faint pillar of light for those who have achieved the requirements to ascend. We arrive in the middle of the day, and, having had enough of a meal and not wanting to wait, we decide to simply tackle the well instantly.

Except, of course, it could never be that simple.

“Hey! Is that you, Gem?!” Vincent asks, waving. The guy from back on Earth who tried to recruit us to his group. After the last ascendancy well, he was with a whole new pile of people. Now, again, he seems to have found new company.

I brush my senses against him.

[Fighter, lv. 25]

Something is wrong with the display. I’m sure, more than sure, even. There’s a tingling sensation that whispers of danger.

“So nice to see you again!” he says, jogging over to us. His blond hair is slicked back, and he looks even more fit than when we were back on Earth. Did he eat well during his entire time on the second floor?

Vincent gives us a bright smile. “How’ve you been?” he asks, stepping even closer.

I take a step back, wanting some distance. He reaches for my shoulder. Inu slabs his wrist and his arm bounces right back.

“Ouchies!” he complains, laughing, rubbing his shoulder. “That stings. Did you shock me or something?” he asks. 

Inu nods. “Yep, it’s a function of my class. It shocks people when I slap them. The skill is pretty new, so I’m not great at suppressing it yet,” she lies. I know it was just her [Rebound] in action, but Vincent nods along.

“No prob, no prob. I forgot about the whole… touchy thing,” he says, waving his hands through the air mockingly. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?”

This time, my entire party just stares at him. I know a few of the others with us like, say, Isabelle, might nod along, but… well. They don’t matter. Already, I feel the urge to kick his shin again. 

Sighing, Inu stares at him. “We’d like to advance, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh, yeah! No prob. We were just about to head up, too. Wanna go with my group after? I heard floor three can be a bit rough on solo expeditions.” He steps closer again. I take another step back. 

“Please let me have my personal space,” I say, calmly as I can. This guy. I lean heavily on [Observation], watching him closely. 

Vincent smiles awkwardly, then steps back, his stupidly handsome face making it seem graceful and easy. “Ah, sorry, I can get a bit too excited. My bad, my bad. But seriously, it’d be good to band up. You must be pretty strong if you’ve made it this far.”

I look at my cutoff arm. “Really, man?” I ask.

At that, for the very first time, he sputters and stops, seeming actually caught off guard. “Well, I, uh…”

Opal pats his shoulder. “Sorry, bud, but we’re kinda full already. Better luck on the other side.”

He just smiles again. “C’mon, at least consider it, I just-”

Does he ever shut up?

“No,” Sylves says, finally. “Stop being a weirdo. Go away. Shoo.”

“Hey,” he starts. “I just wanted to invite you, no need to be so-”

“Go. Away!” she repeats. 

He raises his hands. “Fine, fine! Jeez. Sorry.” And with that, he finally scurries off.

How many more recruitment drives must I suffer? I share a look with Jean and see the same misery at the awkward interaction in his eyes as there must be in mine. Ah, to have a kindred spirit. Sighing softly, I ignore all the chattering of my party. 

“This is too loud,” I say. “I’m going.”

And then, I step into the well.

[Ascend?]

I confirm my desire.

The world goes blank white.

[Challenge: Shadow’s Wreath. In creeping darkness, shadow’s stir, borrow their power, give it a twirl.]

The bright white around me dims in seconds. The sky comes coated in thick rainclouds, though not a drop of water actually falls. And, of course, high in the sky, a single eye opens.

[The Creeping Darkness is watching you.]

“Can I never get some privacy in this tower?” I complain.

The eye blinks, almost embarrassed, glancing to the side.

[... The Creeping Darkness does not wish to draw your ire. It requests you engage with your bond. If you refuse, it will allow you to move on. It has paid a significant tribute for this area’s time dilation, and this lengthy message, and would prefer to stay quiet and observe.]

I blink back. One of those parts sticks out to me. Time dilation.

That must mean that I can spend more time in here than what passes outside. I look at the sky, and my surroundings. The rainclouds cover all of it, thin rays of sun making their way down into the dim world, casting long, deep shadows. There are ruined buildings all around me, streets of dark, ashen cobblestones, caved in roofs made from wood and straw, entirely unsuited to the rains that may have raged here. 

Some places bear scorch marks, too, like there’d been a fire. But there are no corpses, only long, thin shadows. I take a deep breath in, soaking in the atmosphere.

It’s quiet. So wonderfully quiet. The lights are dim, too. It’s faintly cool, but not freezing cold. The air smells faintly of rain, but without the moldy quality that so often comes of it. Instead, it just smells of running water.

I breathe in for a long moment. “How much is the time dilation?” I ask. For a moment, the tower is quiet. The single eye in the sky blinks its abyssal, slitted pupil, the purplish shade of its iris glinting in the light that pierces its smoky outline. It seems to be arguing with the tower, and when the answer comes, it’s a typical notification, rather than an Eye communicating with me.

[Time here passes twenty times faster than outside. You may spend a maximum of one week.]

My eyes scan over the notification a second, then a third time. A week. For a few hours outside. Yes. Yes please. Gently, and in a tiny motion, I nod at the eye. “Okay.” 

There. That should convey enough gratitude.

Instead of any big words, I simply see the Eye squint a bit in what might be amusement. I look away from it, and instead focus on the floor. The dim sunlight starkly outlines my shadow across the floor. It’s even darker than those surrounding me. I stretch out a hand and tap it against the cold cobblestone, watching the darkness ripple.

Kuro crawls out from that tiny gap in the floor.

They’ve grown a bit since I’ve last checked on them, and been a faithful companion. They helped me fight the paladin, and even insulated my feet against the icy sleet. What a brave critter. Why are they so loyal to me, I wonder?

Slowly, I pet them with my hand. The flesh made from shadow is squishy and pleasantly cool, a little bit like a dark marshmallow. They shift a little bit to be more reminiscent of the inson, though it looks like a child sculpted them out of black clay. I snicker a little to myself. “No, silly, you don’t have to mimick anything. You’re plenty cute.”

At my admonishment, the critter lets out a faint grumble, somewhere between annoyed at having its efforts shot down, and yet happy at not needing to put in effort. It shifts again, withdrawing into a malleable mass, then forming into the shape of a centipede… thing. 

Their head is just a little too round, and the legs are less jagged and spiky and more squishy. They feel a little sticky on my skin, but they leave not even a hint of residue when the little critter walks up my arm. I [Observe] carefully, but there is no malice there. Kuro’s smart enough to understand me, somehow, and wouldn’t want to hurt me.

And yet, as they faintly hum a discordant melody, I can tell they’re hungry. Smiling softly, I summon a mana dagger, then slice open my palm. Amusingly, this action reduces my total amount of pain, since the mana in my vessel decreases and some of the pressure against my chest disappears. 

I really should figure that out before it becomes a problem. Ah well. I’ll get there, eventually. Surely it’s not something as silly as needing enough points in heart in order to tolerate my massive amounts of mana, right? Surely not. Maybe. Surely.

Instead of worrying about that, I squeeze the cut on my palm, suppressing the pain and letting Kuro drink my blood. The critter chitters happily as they eat. I, personally, can’t imagine a pure blood diet going well, but they seem to be healthy. “Do you need to eat anything else?” 

Kuro tilts their squishy little head and makes a small popping noise at me. Then, they simply resume slurping my blood, seeming plenty pleased with it. “Fair enough, then,” I say. The words trail off, and the world returns to blessed, blessed silence.

This place is empty, and I could not be more pleased. With a week of time at my hands, I look to Kuro. I wonder… what will I be able to learn from them with seven days to practice?

Magic Breaker Ch 88-90

Chapter 88: Revenge

Norman has been to the third floor.

There’s a specific reason why he went up and came back. I asked for countermeasures on the storm, spending a minor request, and the tower told him that there were ones to find up there.

He has sold his requests for a very specific kind of artefact. Not heating ones, but something else entirely. He hands it to me. Something he traded a lesser request for. Three minor ones. And I hold that tiny thing in my hands.

It’s our ticket out of here. I know the others are freezing inside. I know they can probably barely remember me right now. The only reason Norman isn’t forgetting about me is because I’m right in front of him.

Already, I can feel the channels for that enchantment burning up. It was never meant for permanent usage, and between Norman activating it and now me, it’s running hot. Luckily, there’s a whole storm of ice to cool it back down. 

I breathe in the cold air, and feel all that terrible ice disappear once it reaches my chest. I look at the tiny thing in my hands. And I look at Norman. “Any trouble?” I ask.

“Some,” he says with a shrug, rubbing his shoulders. “I forgot how dang cold it is here.”

“Is the third floor more pleasant?” I ask.

“It’s warmer for sure,” he replies. “No less troublesome.”

Of course it wouldn’t be. But that’s fine. It had what we needed. “Any other factions we need to tackle?”

He raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think so,” he says. “There are some who tried to fleece me, but nothing that would mean we need to take revenge.”

I narrow my eyes a little. “They put the lives of my friends on the line.”

Norman gives me a long look, then an icy sigh. “Look, Snow. I’m freezing. I want to get out of here again. Even another minute in this storm will be too much. Just go.” He glances in the direction of the hut of corpses. “Make sure Inu and Jess come out of this alive. That it was worth it.”

Frowning a little, I rise to my feet. Warmth courses through me, fed by the cloak I enchanted. I pour more mana into it, fully activating each of the [Inscriptions], and the item flares to life. It hums and buzzes against my shoulders, the fabric billowing in the winds of the icy storm, keeping it off me entirely.

And the system knows it’s a masterpiece.

[Inscription 9 > 11]

[Congratulations!]

[Advancement achievement completed! Your masterpiece is accepted. You may now change your job.]

Very gently, I push the notification aside. There will be enough time for that once I’m out of this damn storm. It wouldn’t do to let my friends freeze to death. I take another breath, draw the cloak tight around me, nod at Norman, and walk outside.

- - -

Freezing winds. That’s all this world is. Icy cold, cutting winds, and the kind of wet snow that soaks through your clothes, chilling you to your bones. It’s bitterly cold, and I can feel the terrible storm biting at my lips.

The wind howls outside, and I’m entirely sure it’s not just the wind. It’s the fae, too. Spectres of ice, stalking through the storm. When everyone in that building died, it was finally the right time for us to move. 

Norman had gotten the cloak from me on the twenty-sixth day, letting him get to the third floor. He needed to be above the second threshold for that, of course. But we’d gotten him there. With [Unassuming Presence] and the mantle I’d made, as well as my help, he was able to kill enough of the fae to advance.

His epitaph was one of power. Movement and stealth. Being glanced over and forgotten.

So, he was able to escape. And then, when the bloodbath happened, he was able to pass the mantle to me, unnoticed by the distracted fae. And now, I held the little cube he’d given me.

Icy wind nips at my skin, but the heat from the cloak wards it off. I’d wanted to enchant it a bit differently at first, but this was fine. The inscriptions are based on a mix of Norman’s stealth skill, Jess’ skills for freezing and flames, and finally, a bit of Sylves’ fae-powers, as well as all the heating artefacts I’d analysed. In effect, the wielder was shielded from cold, hidden from cold, harder to notice, and welcome with the fae.

That’s why the storm can’t see me.

I am a guest, right now. And since I can endure the cold, the fae can’t lay a hand on me, hardly even knowing where I am. Of course, the guest-thing only works if they can’t see me, but with the other inscriptions, that’s possible. Just for a little while.

A small smile on my face, I venture into the storm. 

Ice batters against me, winds slamming into the dim cloak as mana boiled through it. My vessel is being drained, bit by bit, burning power to keep the enchantments going, but that’s fine. It was hard, but the less mana I have, the harder I am to notice. 

The fae wanted to devour us for our heat and our life. Fuck them. We’re gonna live. No matter what.

Step by step, I walk further into the storm.

It grows colder with every moment. Sleet falls onto me, and the ground is covered in heavy snow, making each step difficult. The storm is so heavy that it took only minutes for my footsteps to be erased, and it’s impossible to tell where I’m going through the thick fog.

Wails crash against my ears from the fae, trapped in the torrent of ice and death. They scream in hunger, seeking out more mortals to devour. The storm is hungry, and running from it was usually possible, if only there weren’t some delicious bait with us.

I breathe the frigid air, feeling my skin freeze over for a moment before resplendent heat leaches from the enchantments and into me, warming me back up. My shoes crunch down on snow, socks long since soaked through, but it’s just water.

Bit by bit, I drag myself deeper into the icy storm. The sleet intensifies, turning to ice. Thin, angry needles, prickling against my skin as they melt. Each one makes me feel the hunger rumbling through me, the fact that I haven’t eaten in days, but I [Suppress] it. More mana flows from my vessel.

And yet, there’s more. So much more. The stat is my highest by far, and empowered by my epitaph… I can keep going. I’ve even prepared bits of solidified mana to deconstruct and feed into my Abiding Apathy, allowing myself to keep marching.

So I keep going. Even when the wails make my ears bleed. Even when icy claws brush by only centimeters from me, forcing me to duck away. Even as more and more icy wraiths drift through the mist, where a single touch could bring down hundreds on me. 

Enchantments burn against my skin, the cloak overloaded by the mana coursing through it. I can feel it fraying, just slightly, knowing that it would break if I took too long. Frowning, I march on faster.

The ground turns from snow to full ice. It’s so cold that the grass turns into a perfect sheet of white. It’s the slipper kind of ice, but also with enough pointy bits that make it easy to break my skull if I slipped. But I don’t slip.

I walk on, and on, and on. Hearing the horrible wails, gritting my teeth and bearing with it. I walk, and walk, and walk, until I feel the enchantment in my cloak splutter.

Just once, it flickers.

A thousand wraiths turn their noses to me. Dreadful hunger mixes with the smell of blood in the air. I can hear the telltale clacking of claws on ice coming towards me.

Moving swiftly, I duck forward, running a few steps, making it just a bit farther. It’s now or never, then.

As the hungry wraiths stalk towards me, I place down the cube Norman gave me. My mana flares to life again, my vessel slowly emptying out, but I course it through the little device, anyway. 

It glows, humming to life, even as the ice clings to it. 

Then, the little cube ignites.

White light flows off of it, soothing my aches and the chill, but, most importantly, flowing outwards. A gentle, yellow-white wave flows through the entire storm, over the wraiths, into the snow, underneath the ice.

For a moment, the world goes silent. 

Then, it’s filled with abominable howls. 

After all, the cube is bait. Meant to attract the storm and feed it while we get out of there. And with every single starving monster within a few kilometres stalking towards me, I start running.

Chapter 89: Reliable

Escaping the storm is tricky, because while there’s the bait in place, my cloak’s enchantment also starts flickering more and more. The mana coursing through the enchantments grows unsteady, and it stops hiding my presence properly. The brief flashes of warmth escaping outside both make me a lot colder and allow the wraiths to see me.

And the ones who are too far from the bait? They prefer me.

[You have killed a lv. 32 Fogfae]

[You have killed a lv. 39 Fogfae]

[Level up! 32 > 33]

All three points instantly go into vessel, refuelling my mana to [Deconstruct] more of the fae. Finding their cores and then tearing them apart is all it takes, since they can’t hit me with manifested claws - I just break those apart - and the cold has a really tough time penetrating the cloak I’d spent close to a month on.

It’s just that good at keeping the cold out that their icy grip can’t worm its way into my heart.

But they still strain the enchantments. The cloak was made for this kind of cold, but at the end of the day, it’s still slapdash. With the amount of mana burning through it, it’s only a matter of time until it breaks, and each time I get hit by another swipe of misty claws, it degrades more. The fabric frays, the enchantments burn, and I’m not yet halfway through the snow.

So, I keep running, and running, and running on ahead. 

I duck under a swipe of claws, rolling through the wet snow, my face stinging for just a moment as my skin makes contact before heat bursts back into my blood. I dodge to the side, I destroy half a fae, I suppress another and run past. A short sword of solid mana forms in my hand, being used to turn aside blows and fight through the weather, even as needles of ice slam into my skin, breaking apart.

Then, one of the flickers stops the heating.

Instantly, ice clutches around my chest. I can feel my blood freezing in my veins, the way the heat leaches out of me in moments. It fucking hurts, but a tenth of a second later, the enchantment sputters back to life, and heat floods through me like a wildfire. 

It burns through my veins with a second burst of pain, my cells protesting the rapid changes in temperature. My skin cracks and starts bleeding from the contraction and subsequent expansion. 

Blood pools in red lines across me, but that’s fine. I slash my sword, beating aside another wraith and run, knowing that the storm will eventually ebb. All around me, the wind is tearing towards the bait, hungrily latching on to that beacon, made for the fae. Hundreds, maybe thousands of the creatures, run towards that part, and those who don’t want to go there are taken with the others.

Auras of frost and starvation brush by me, and I feel the hunger flare up again, but they all get suppressed. Each bit of complaint I feel gets tossed to the skill and devoured. Not a peep leaves my mouth as I sprint through the snow as fast as I can, each breath misting and making my mouth ache from the heating and cooling.

[Suppression 13 > 14]

Bit by bit, my mana drains. I fight the cold, the fae, the storm itself, the hunger, all of it. Every step is demanding, my body wanting to give up already, to just lay down and sleep, but I refuse to let it. I run, until the needles turn back to the heavy slush, slowing me down further. The snow is deep, too deep to sprint, so I can only manage a brisk walk, giving the fae more opportunities to descend on me.

The enchantment flickers again, calling them to me, making my skin crack in the terrible cold. I grit my teeth and tear more of the things apart, pouring droves of mana into the skill.

[Deconstruction 10 > 11]

My epitaph feeds off the murders, refilling mana with what remained of the ephemeral things. Bits of icy fog turn into mana, devoured by my apathy. My sword rings out whenever I fail to dispel their claws quickly enough, and I walk on, as fast as I can.

I move for minutes, the enchantment flickering more often, until a part of it finally breaks. My feet go numb rather quickly from there, but I still walk on, holding the pain at bay, trying to stop the cold from invading me. Yet, while focusing on so many different things, my focus lapses. A claw cuts into me, carving through a part of the cloak and leaving a long rent on my side. Instantly, blood pools on the outside of the wound, then freezes over.

More of the enchantments fail. I frown, and march ever onward. The snow is thinning, slowly, but the cold is still unbearable. It would kill me in a minute if I passed out, so I don’t. My eyes stay open, and I place one foot in front of the other, step by step.

Wraiths pour towards me when they spot me, but there are fewer of them. I walk, I cut, I destroy and devour and keep moving. 

The storm thins, step by step. The snow lessens. Each icy breath burns a little less.

And then my legs give in.

It takes me a second to notice. I try to lift my other leg, simply having expected the first to move, but when I shift my balance, I tilt forward. My arm flashes out, shortsword falling from my hand, reaching into the snow to stop my face from crashing into it.

Ice shoots up my veins, and my skin begins to freeze over. Abominable cold crawls into me, instantly numbing my arm. I can see it shaking, even though I can barely feel it. Very slowly, my elbow starts folding, even as I command it to remain up. Claws slice across my back, filling it with ice. 

My face touches the snow. The tip of my nose goes cold instantly. A sheet of white fills my eyes, promising me death. I can feel my Abiding Apathy stir at the thought. It doesn’t even care at the thought of dying, feeding off of that prospect, devouring the fleeting, ephemeral despair.

Slowly, I smile. My eyes sink into the snow, and it burns. The mark on the side of my face, Flametouched, is the only bit of warmth I retain. My skin turns ashen.

And still, I won. The storm is drifting away. Towards the bait. I can feel ghostly teeth sinking into my side, before I swat them away like a fly with [Deconstruction]. My last wisps of mana dispel the fae, but it doesn’t matter.

The cold embraces me. I close my eyes. My friends will live. Maybe that’s enough.

Then, a hand wraps around me.

“Get up, lazy idiot,” Thatch demands, dragging me to stand. He wraps my numb arm around his shoulder, but with me being unable to stand, that ends up being awkward. Instead, he just scoops me up into a princess carry. “Let’s get you home. I’ll call you a moron later.” He even has the audacity to shoot me a cheeky wink.

What a reliable guy. He presses a cube of fire and mana against my chest, right where my heart is, and I smile, ever so faintly. Not dying quite yet. Get fucked, tower. I close my eyes, knowing I’ll get home safe.

Chapter 90: Anger

PoV: Thatch Bream - Hush

I breathe, holding Snow’s sleeping body in my arms. Hanging there limply, my friend looks so fragile, and yet, so peaceful. Their usually expressionless face looks calm, almost peaceful.

Unlike me.

Right now, there is no one watching, and with the cold, I let the fire [Rage] inside me.

The sleet falls from the storm, touching my skin, and trying to invade me with ice. But it doesn’t stand a chance. Right now, nothing in this damn place does. Drawn aside by Snow’s moronic plan, the storm is weakened. Already, Malcolm is having people gather to move on and run. 

My teeth grind against each other. One of the fae approaches, hungrily. I can see it drifting closer in that icy way they move. Then I turn to look at it, staring the monster down. Snow’s asleep. I have nothing to hide anymore. “Fuck. Off.”

Anger [Channels] into my eyes, enhancing [Piercing Gaze]. I stare the creature down as its approach slows. I stare as fear crawls into its movements, and it stops. Then, it turns around, and disappears into the wall of sleet. Pathetic.

Carefully I make sure the heating cube is staying in place, warming Snow up. How ironic would that be, having someone with that name freeze to death? How silly.

No. 

My fury boils within me, moving through my veins like liquid fire, keeping me moving. The storm outside is nothing compared to the rushing of my blood in my ears, my heart beating like a hummingbird. It feels invigorating. Like life itself, boiling through me. It feels like coming home.

There are memories bubbling at the edge of my awareness. Ones that whisper about my anger, why it’s there, but I discard them like the trash they are. I am not an angry person. I am perfectly calm, quiet, and collected.

Fury boils through me anyway, and the snow hisses at the touch of the anger. That’s why I went out. Inu is tougher than me. Opal is faster than me. Sylves is more welcome in the storm. And yet, I went out.

Because while they can brave the storm, I can brave the wraiths.

Another one comes at me, and I stare at it. My eyes find its core in a moment, and activating the attacking part of the skill with everything I have, a lance of psychic angers spears through the thing.

[You have killed a lv. 38 Fogfae]

It falls apart into fine mist. They’re all pathetic.

The hunger pulls at my insides, churning my stomach, but it, too, is burned away by anger. 

I’m mad. I’m a kind and gentle person, but I’m pissed. This storm, these wraiths, almost killed my friends. The only people in the world I’ve managed to keep around me. Who’ve seen me beat people to death and simply shrugged it off.

And now, it wanted to kill them? Inacceptable. 

I walk forward, the [Rage] fanned by my thoughts. I hate the way it feels, the way it burns, and yet, I know it’s necessary. I can feel it in the way the storm pulls away from me. In the way that the wraiths are afraid. 

A snowflake lands on Snow’s face and I carefully, gently brush it away, stepping forward. Any wraith that approaches us gets burned, my skills working together. I make sure to remember this landscape, the way the snow falls. It’s pretty and picturesque even while I despise it. 

I make sure to remember it, to paint it in the landscape of my mind. Because I will be back, and I will wipe out every single wretched wraith who ever even thought of laying a finger on my precious friend. Snow’s blood stains my gloves, and I vow, then and there, to kill every single fae I can get my hands on once we’re strong enough.

Another one approaches, and my [Rage] flares so hard it levels as the fae disintegrates, but I disregard the notification. It feeds back into my epitaph.

Snow helped us all kill fae during the first few days on the floor. I got my epitaph a few days ago, through levelling up my class enough to get a supremacy level. I don’t love it, but it is helpful for me.

[Flashflood Rage (Power)

Boiling fury roils and breaks,

Then leaves a silence in its wake.]

It’s the way my anger works. It’s all consuming while it lasts, then disappears. My class stabilizes it, but the epitaph makes it especially powerful at destroying. Which is exactly what I use it for, at the end of the day.

The snow and the storm, all the raging, flowing ice, everything it is breaks against my anger. I feel furious. At my own powerlessness, furious at the wraiths, at the tower, at the world itself. At captain Malcolm for failing, at everyone who died for dying, at Snow for running into the storm and saving us all again.

Fucking idiot. Every single moment of this sucks.

[Rage 9 > 10]

Ice breaks against my skin, and I channel some of that heat into Snow. My anger crawls underneath pale skin, and I see heart flowing through those veins again. Under my [Piercing Gaze], I see Snow’s blood vessels. I also see the mana construct in my friend’s skull, where we’d agreed not to place them.

There are a dozen tiny experiments caged in parts of Snow’s body. The missing arm is filled with tiny inscriptions, pulsing steady streams of malformed healing into the stump. Crystalline constructs woven around my unconscious friend’s brain. Enchantments woven into the cloak that grew so hot they burnt into Snow’s skin.

And, of course, tiny glyphs of that skill they use to quiet the world around the ears.

I take a breath, seeing it mist in the storm and march onward. The ice is thinner now, and it gets easier to walk. My friend is an idiot. I’m so fucking angry. 

Then the fucker even has the audacity to crack a smile. Snow’s eyes flicker open. “Hey Thatch?” 

“Yes?” I ask, keeping the anger out of my voice and giving them a kind smile. “What is it?”

“What’s your dad’s name again?” Snow asks.

[Rage 10 > 11]

“William. William Riley,” I answer, through gritted teeth.

Snow smiles. “Got it.” The words coming from those lips are shaky and quiet. “Thanks.”

I recognize their tone. This asshole can’t even let me save them before going and making a promise to return the favour. “Just rest, you moron.”

“You only insult me when you’re upset. Can you explain later?” 

Damn know-it-all. “I will. Rest.”

“Okay,” Snow says, and falls asleep again, right there.

I march out of the storm, fuelled by anger. When the winds stop, my rage leaves me like a flickering memory. It washes away all at once, like a wave drawing back from the shore and back into the ocean. I take a deep breath, and ever so gently place my friend down on the grass. It’s wet from the melting snow, but Jess quickly brings a few flames over.

Inu and Sylves crowd around me, taking care of Snow with their skills. Opal picks up a sword. Their face is a mask of calm indifference, pointing the weapon at anyone who even tries to come close, not taking any chances. 

There is so much relief in the air. I [Channel] more warmth into Snow. And then, I look around, standing next to Opal. We both know it, at once.

If anyone steps up, we’ll smash their skulls in.

Chapter 284: Becoming a Cultivator

Chapter 284: Becoming a Cultivator

Sitting in a lotus position, Mercury breathed in, then out. 

“Alright,” he said. “What now?”

It had been a handful of days since he started living with the Cult of Infernal Flames. There was a lot that needed to be done in the Valley of Balance, and Mercury took care of much of it. 

A well had dried up? He fixed it. Broken buildings? He fixed them. Wounds, aching backs, sick children? Fixed.

Fixed, fixed, fixed. Like a spring storm, Mercury tore through the abandoned valley and solved every problem he encountered. One by one, people improved and thanked him. And every single time, he just nodded underneath his veil, and collected the meagre contribution points those disaster lesbians would give him for it. 

They also complained about him taking up too much of their time, always. And yet, he helped. His favourite project, by far, was farming, though. Mainly because he could interact with Zyl.

They’d combed through fields hand in hand. The dragon dragged his hands through the soil, judging nutrient quality and hydration, and Mercury would reshape things. Ask the world to reshape itself, feed it from <Truth> and <Grain of Infinity>, and the earth would come up from below. New nutrients emerged, grasses were mulched to become nitrogen for the soil, and channels appeared as if dug by ghostly hands.

They planted grains and squashes, mostly. Filling things to feed many people. He’d made farming implements, he’d created the conditions for people to thrive without him, and he felt satisfied with that. So now, he was to learn.

“Every cultivator begins in the Rusted-realm,” Gun-Byeong said slowly. “It is about recognizing the shackles of your body, and shaking them off. You understand your weaknesses, and you chip away at them. Before you can be remade, you must have a suitable base. This realm is for establishing it.”

Mercury nodded along to the explanation. It was, essentially, the preparation for forging. Stripping away the rust. “How do I go about that?”

Gun-Byeong frowned faintly, as if this was beneath him, then sighed. “You create qi by mixing your mana and stamina,” he said. “Then you floor your physical and energy body to bring them into synchronicity.”

Hm. That felt… inconvenient. Mercury had <Mana Veins>, of course, which were his energy body, effectively. But those far, far eclipsed his physical body in vastness. He frowned faintly, but Gun-Byeong shook his head, reading his expression. “No,” the beastly man said impatiently, “that is not it. They need not overlap. They need to synchronize. Be part of you. Become linked, not the same.”

Tilting his head, Mercury decided to just give it his best shot. Cultivation was new to him, so of course, he was going to run into some trouble. It was almost inevitable. Especially with his achievements in magic and physique. So, he decided to bear with him.

Following the cryptic advice, he breathed in and out. They’d made him read a technique manual first, an ordinary, plain technique, standard for cult members. He had dozens of those, stolen from the sect archives he’d raided just a page or two ago. All of them should have been easy, they were the very beginnings of cultivation, after all.

One would think that beginning with a heavenly foundation would be best, but that was wrong. Building a heavenly foundation was a pipe dream. One had to start from an ordinary one, then expand that foundation bit by bit. The Rusted Realm was full of malleability, so it was easy to experiment.

And if Mercury couldn’t even understand an ordinary technique, then a heavenly one was far from his reach. But that was fine. He settled into the rhythm. Breathe in, then out. The familiar motion was relieving for him, easing the burden that weighed so heavily on his shoulders. 

He followed the motion in the manual. It was full of flowery words and indistinct language, but in the end, there was still something simple to it. Take stamina from one’s well, mana from one’s core, and weave them together into qi. 

The pattern for it was difficult, since the two didn’t like following the same paths. Stamina ebbed and flowed like waves, filling his body evenly. Mana went along like blood, thrumming in tune with his heartbeat, moving through its own set of veins.

… That was probably what Gun-Byeong meant with synchronicity, then. Managing to fuse his mana and stamina. 

Mercury was far more practiced with one of those forces over the other, of course, so that’s where he started. Mana. It was something he had very extensively practiced with, and where he had once had a tiny puddle of it, barely a few drops, by now he had a steadily refilling lake, backed by an infinity engine.

Suffice to say, he had more than enough mana to fill up his body. He flooded his veins, mana pouring through his body for the first time in a while. His limbs shook off their rust, the tiny imperfections in the veins smoothing themselves out. Mercury felt himself grow stronger - and then remembered that he wasn’t in a mopaaw’s body anymore.

His mana veins, however, hadn’t changed.

They were still the same strange network, mapping out something almost feline, then expanding past it. Expanding his mana aura, where he felt things so distinctly. Right now, his body and veins didn’t match at all, and yet, the reinforcement worked. When he flooded his front paws with mana, he felt his hands strengthen. His hind paws mapped to his feet.

‘Is it… intent?’ he thought, creasing his brows. Mercury focused, and ihn’ar washed over him almost naturally. Like a blanket embracing him. His focus grew immense, and Gun-Byeong blinked as the atmosphere shifted.

Mercury didn’t pay that any mind, though. His attention was turned inwards. His mana flowed through that network that was him, and it strengthened him. There were veins for a tail, even though he had none, which gave a strange sensation. But he also had veins that simply mapped past him. 

So, the missing “tail” wasn’t so different from those, he supposed. All just part of him that wasn’t currently there.

That thought sent a pulse through his body. He tilted his head. His stamina spilled forward, outward, and brushed against the edge of his body. It gathered there, like a building wave, then slowly trickled back. Mercury furrowed more, focused more, and followed that sensation.

A part of him that wasn’t there.

Stamina brushed against the edge of his body and pushed. He felt his skin strain. There was a soft, pushing, almost tearing sensation, and then warmth spread over him.

“You just exploded,” Gun-Byeong provided helpfully.

Ah. The warmth was probably his own blood, then. His skin was flayed open, tears criss-crossing it as if exposing his fault-lines. He sighed, mended his skin, then tried again. Apparently, brute-force wasn’t the solution.

In a quick moment, faster than a blink, he reviewed the entire contents of the manual again. The Rust-Shedding Flame Cleansing Technique. What a mouthful. 

Skimming it, he reviews bits. Blah blah, cleansing fire, blah blah, shed mortal impurities, blah blah, your body is a vessel and your power goes beyond it. Ah, that must be it. Seeing his body as just a vessel… what would using his stamina outside of it mean, then? Tempering himself beyond it? 

Wait, that was easy to figure out. For most cultivators, it was probably manifesting techniques, since their stamina and mana were the same. Mercury just had to go at it the other way around. He needed to get his stamina outside his body to make qi, rather than get his qi outside his body once he already made it.

But he had a reference for that, too. Smiling softly, Mercury simply turned to his boyfriend. “Hey, Zyl?”

The dragon looked over, saw the blood already washing off Mercury, and snickered. “Let me guess, you tried getting your stamina out and hurt yourself, and now you want advice?”

“Yep,” Mercury said with a smile.

Zyl sighed dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair, and giving Mercury a smug grin. “Fine, but only because I like you so much. Getting your stamina outside usually manifests as some kind of damage expansion. Think of it as air pressure. You punch, and blow apart a mountain. Like this.”

With an almost lazy motion, Zyl swung his hand. He just waved it through the empty air, and yet, with a boom, the ground in front of him split. Five long, jagged claw marks dug themselves through the dirt, and the wind made his hair flutter.

“So fucking handsome,” Mercury muttered with a grin, then shook off the thought. “Thanks, Zyl,” he said more loudly, then nodded. Pressure and killing intent. He could work with that. 

If all he needed was to cause trouble, then couldn’t he just…

Mercury felt his perspective shift as he focused. Stamina flooded outside of him, filling his ghostly hands, his intent, and his rijn. All of those were expansions of himself that interacted with the world. And, from those invisible attachments, it was easy to bring his stamina to bear further.

With a gentle tilt of his head, a ghostly hand gave a wave, and his stamina carried the motion. He left a human-sized handprint in the grass, pressing a few strands of it down against the ground. “Got it,” Mercury said with a hum.

[You have acquired the ability <Stamina Expansion lv. 1> through a specific action!]

And then, with a twist and a thought, twirling his mana and stamina into one was easy. 

[<Mana Expansion> and <Stamina Expansion> have fused into <Qi lv. 1>]

The two energies braided into each other, then became something different entirely. Mercury felt it. Blue and green twisted together to make… cyan. That was the colour of qi - this kind of unaspected qi, at least. It was a bright cyan, like one might find on neon signs. 

“Alright, I’ve got qi,” Mercury said plainly. In fact, he felt it resonate in his chest. Thrumming.

What an odd sensation. Like his heartbeat wanted to join it. He tilted his head. Could he? 

He’d expanded his mana and stamina, all that was left was his health. He’d never consciously controlled it, but surely, it couldn’t be that hard…?

Mercury tried. For a moment, his heart spasmed - then exploded in his chest. “Huh,” he said. “So that’s not very cool.” With a quick revolution of his mind, he spun up <Resolution>, and wove himself a new heart from stored up biomatter. It took all of five minutes to restore.

Then he tried again, and his liver turned to blood pulp. On the third attempt, his lungs evaporated, which ended in him wheezing and coughing blood for a little while. Mercury frowned a bit at the problems he was encountering. 

“Hey, Gun-Byeong?”

“Hm?”

“I’m trying to manipulate my health and keep pulping my organs.”

The beastly man flinched at the words, then stared at Mercury, narrowing his eyes. “What in the seven hells is wrong with you?”

Mercury shrugged. “It’s not like it’s too much of a bother. Hearts are like, so 2000s, you know?” he asked.

Gun-Byeong blinked. “What. What does a random number have to do with this? Did you pulp your brain?”

“Oh, that wouldn’t stop me, either. You literally saw me make myself a new head.”

Even the Beast shivered at that. “Don’t remind me,” he said with a shake of his head. “Anyway. Controlling health is something best not attempted. It’s too easy to die - and the secret to origin qi.”

“Huh, neat.” Mercury nodded. Then, he smiled. “Got it,” he said.

“What do you mean you got it?”

[<Qi> and <Health Expansion> have fused into <Origin Qi lv. 1>]

[<Origin Qi lv. 1> has forcefully fused <Mana Veins>, <Stamina Guide>, <Stamina Vessel>, <Warmed Up>.]

[You have acquired the Ability <Internal Energy lv. 2>]

He smiled, then brought his new energy to bear. Unlike before, his new origin qi was pure white. A fusion of all three things. What did health and stamina make? Or health and mana, he wondered? Could he still make those things?

The answer, as it turned out, was yes.

[<Internal Energy> has levelled up! <Internal Energy lv. 2 -> 3>]

With a simple twist of his mind, his origin qi came apart, unravelling into all its components. It was malleable, and easy to harness, entirely unlike what he was told. Smiling softly, Mercury played around with its constituent energies. 

Health and stamina, for example, fused into something that mercury dubbed aura. It was exceptionally good at healing and physically enhancing him, but other than doing more of what he could already do, it was useless. No magic, no elements, simply a raw physical enhancement. 

Mana and health instead turned into what he dubbed spirit. He could feel it bubbling, almost alive, and wanting to change the world. Almost with ease, it made things move, had other things to his bidding. It could make a rock want to roll down a hill, a blade of grass want to wrap around something else.

And it was not unlike asking the world to do something. Almost perfect for druidics, he thought. Smiling softly to himself, he finally turned to Gun-Byeong again. The peak master sat there and stared at Mercury with his mouth open.

“How are you not dead?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. 

Mercury shrugged, and smiled smugly. “I’m very, very hard to kill.”

Pure white origin qi flowed through his energy body with ease. It suffused each of his cells, along invisible veins, and easily went past his body, too. It flowed across the world, feeding details back to him. Gun-Byeong shivered. “A… divine sense. Already?” 

“What’s a divine sense?” Mercury asked innocently.

Still wearing an expression of shock, Gun-Byeong gathered himself and moved. His own qi pulsed out of his dantian, flowing into the world. Mercury felt, rather than saw, the ethereal power pushing against his own. Giving him a measure of Gun-Byeong’s power. And he tilted his head.

“You have a lot of qi,” Mercury noted. His own total pool was smaller than that of the brute. Of course, that wasn’t much of an obstacle when…

[<Grain of Infinity> resonates with <Origin Qi>]

[<Grain of Infinity> spins and grows.]

That was all it said, but Mercury knew what it meant. The little white hole that laid at the core of his being, that beat in tune with his heart, was ready to spew out an absolute torrent of origin qi if he needed it. And he would need it.

Because, apparently, origin qi didn’t regenerate. It had to be manually threaded each time. That was where Gun-Byeong’s unique technique to cultivate more and more of it came into play - he could use it without expending it, technically, internally. So he could build more.

Other cultivators might burn themselves out, or annihilate their own organs and blood essence and what have you if they used too much. But Mercury found that he could just… make more. Perhaps because of his inner world, or some combination of factors. Regardless, he could regenerate his origin qi.

“Preposterous,” Gun-Byeong breathed. “You will die if you use it up.”

Mercury smiled at that. Then, he shook his head. “One day you’ll learn to just believe me. The next part of the Rusted-realm is coursing qi through my body, right? Clearing away impurities? Using my power to cleanse myself?”

The master of Slaughter swallowed drily. “Yes,” he said, knowing what would come. “That’s… correct.”

Slowly, Mercury’s smile widened. His minds spun up, blossomed, grew. The world slowed down, and he experienced so much of it. He felt himself thrive, as if his spirit were being watered by the vision. By the new energies he felt, the new way he interacted with the world. In a single, violent sweep, Mercury let his origin qi outside.

A bright white tide spilled out of him. Gun-Byeong covered his eyes just in time. The wave of light passed over him, travelling outwards as a faint shockwave. Grasses bent, rocks quivered, and it spilled across the entire nearby peak, and then further. It must have spilled into other peaks too.

By the end of it, Mercury laughed.

He was a dried out, dying husk on the ground. His blood had evaporated, every point of health he had fed into his origin qi. His mana was gone. Stamina empty. It was all completely removed, and without a drip to feed him, he couldn’t regenerate.

But he had seen so much. All at once, he knew he had grown.

[<Mindbloom> has levelled up. <Mindbloom lv. 1 -> 2>]

And then, with his newly grown mind, he activated <Grain of Infinity>. Power spilled out of that ethereal place, a torrent of it filling his muscles. Fibres that had been dried out and reduced to pale husks were flooded with strength. His mummified body grew stronger in a moment, a faint sheen of power coalescing over his skin.

Horror spread across Gun-Byeong’s features at the implications. Mercury was breathing in seconds, and a single minute later, he sat back up. Blinding white origin qi roared through his body, through his cells, his veins, his muscles, his bones. He felt himself shift at the sheer proximity to that power, felt the impurities flake away.

They spilled from his pores, and moments later, were annihilated by <Rainfall>. His body was poorly made, he found. He could be so much more, go so much further. He’d taken so many steps, yet he’d never found these impurities, because they were… almost baked into him. Little inefficiencies he had considered natural.

His body was turned from a copper cable to a superconductor, when it came to mana. In an instant, his origin qi roared through him. It burnt parts of his body, the rampaging power struggling against his control, but he just laughed. He healed, and his mind grabbed onto the streaks of lightning that sought to spill outwards.

[The basic efficacy of your stats has increased by 10%]

Instantly, he dragged them all back in. He breathed. Then he smiled, and opened his eyes, the already horrible depths in them having grown a little bit deeper. “I think,” he said quietly, “I’m done with the Rusted-Realm. What’s next?”

Only then did he realize that suddenly, a few more peak masters had appeared to take a look at this anomaly. And one of them was especially odd.

“Palisade-girl,” Mercury said with a calm voice, “you have to stop trying to eat my arm.”

“Never!”

Magic Breaker Ch 85-87

Chapter 85: Ice

The storm doesn’t leave us alone. 

Every day, the camp tries to move, but it gets colder. The beasts pulling the carts slow down, needing more healing. Jean and I try to work together to help them, even as his grandma stares daggers into my back. I pointedly ignore her, trying to make sure the animal can walk again, that the skin below its fur is warm enough to stay healthy.

I can see its breath misting in the air, and the way it looks into my eyes. It knows it’s dying. It knows. And I can’t abide by that.

“Jean, I will be using more mana than before on this. Can you demonstrate your skill for me one more time? I will have to [Observe] it, though,” I tell him.

Isabelle, his grandma, hisses slightly. “Don’t show off your skill recklessly, Jean.”

“Can you save it?” he asks, gritting his teeth.

I nod, confidently. “Yes,” I answer.

Without hesitation, the barrier around him lowers, and he weaves his skill. I watch, I [Observe], even as my breath mists in the freezing air and thick globs of sleet pelt down from above, covering the ground in snowy slush. 

The mana weaves in beautiful, pale blue patterns, interlocking circles and sparkling pathways winding around one another. It’s a gentle, kind skill, borne out of a desire to help, to amend all ailments.

It’s so very different from my approach, and yet so useful.

My healing skill is jagged and precise, a scalpel where he uses a bandaid. They are both useful for different things, and adding to my toolbox is important. So, as he holds the magic in place, letting me study it, I learn. And then, at the end, I [Deconstruct] it one more time.

Yes, that’ll work.

[Biological Restoration 8 > 9]

My skill changes as I alter it in front of my inner eye. I add flourishes where I can, little feelers to help the magic “stick” better, adding circles and lines to the edges of the pattern to soften it a bit, sort of. The mana takes shape, and a moment later, the skill activates, gold-white energy streaming towards the beast.

It’s not enough.

I open my vessel up properly, no longer conserving my mana in case of an attack. I’d never gone below three quarters full, and now I do. Instead of spending the amount I regenerate, I simply pour a torrent of power into the skill, its improved shape easily taking the increase in energy and pouring more gold towards the animal.

And then, the spell hits.

A torrent of gold pours into the creature, and I can see it infuse below the skin, making its fur more lustrous, making its heart thump again, warming its blood. The fatigue in its muscles fades as they knit themselves back together, and the magic lingers. Those sticky feelers make sure that no energy goes to waste, and the overly large amount of mana I put in feeds the animal, keeping the cold at bay.

Then I direct it at the most egregious wounds, and faint bits of frostbite clear away as easily as dirt in the rain. The skin simply regenerates, pale flakes dropping to the floor and joining the snow as if they had always been there.

I see the way the creature looks at me. It knows I saved it. Very gently, I reach out. It’s a little like a mammoth crossed with a bison, sporting a curled, wrinkly nose, tiny tusks, and a handful of small horns from its thick skull. I slowly push a hand through its fur, feeling it hum with power. 

Beneath my touch, the animal huffs and presses against my hand. Its skin is warm. I feel faint bits of magic in the fur - almost as if it’s showing me something. A tiny, ephemeral trickle of essence passes into me in that moment. 

Did… it use a request to show thanks? I look at the creature for a few long, agonising seconds, and it huffs again, shoving my hand aside. Then, it rises up to its legs and continues trotting along, rubbing up against another bison-mammoth pulling the same cart. 

“You’re smiling again,” Jean says. I look at him and see the bright grin he flashes me, even as his grandmother grumbles about secrecy and haggles the beast tamer for more payment.

Instead of any great reply, I just give a small, amused huff, and an exaggerated shrug. What does he want me to do, be annoyed? Jean laughs at me for a moment, and I consider ruffling his hair. I only consider it, though.

- - - 

More days pass, and the cold gets ever colder.

Frost starts gathering at the sides of the wagons by now. The wheels, made of wood and metal, start creaking and degrading from ice in their joints. More and more, Bay needs to head out, wrapped in cloak and blankets, sometimes even carrying some of Jess’ and my warming-cube things, to fix stuff.

The nights are cold and icy. Most of the time, the defenders just huddle indoors, staring out the flaps of the enchanted wagons, hoping to catch a glimpse of any fogfae before they attack. But there’s nothing but dreadful silence and icy cold.

But I know the mist is thicker now. I sit inside, watching as tendrils of that ethereal energy try to pass into our space, and are taken apart by the caged flames we have positioned all around the entrance. Dozens of runes cover the walls, the blankets, even our clothing, and yet, the icy cold invades.

It bites its way through there, and I can feel even Kuro shiver inside my shadow. Sometimes, I can see that rim of darkness cast by me reach out towards the fires. It’s a bizarre sight, but I don’t let it distract me.

There’s something coming. I refuse to be caught off guard, so I keep enchanting, weaving, and preparing. We will be ready. We will.

- - -

Norman, Inu and Tatch are out the most - Norman as a messenger, and Inu and Thatch because they can take the cold. Amelie huddles by the fires a lot, especially making sure her legs stay warm. She sometimes looks at my missing arm and bites her lips in conflict.

I work on my healing and my enchanting, mainly. By now, I know which abilities in the camp I can siphon mana from without too much trouble, and which ones are necessary. Some heat other houses, some are used on the crops, and others again are simply too noticeable if I were to mess with them.

No more items go missing, either. No one starts trouble with us. It is simply too cold. When we have excess mana, Jess makes Sylves hand out our little “beacons” as she’s taken to calling the cubes filled with fire.

Of course, there are strings attached. Otherwise, Inu would give them away, not Sylves. But that’s okay. It’s just insurance - we don’t activate any of the negative impacts of her ability. To everyone in the camp, it really is just freely given assistance, and they thank us with hastily stammered words from freezing lips.

Norman comes back often and warms up. I sometimes step out, with a thick coat of [Suppression] keeping the cold away. I breathe out, and despite the blankets, despite the skills, despite the fires burning in a half dozen mana cubes around me, I can feel the cold air trying to freeze the saliva in my mouth. I stare into the mist, waiting for an attack, trying to look through the thick sleet, but there’s nothing but white.

It’s endlessly cold. So cold that I know what the news will be.

The sixteenth day on the second floor comes as the sun rises. Its rays don’t make it through the icy fog. And captain Malcolm announces that the crops have frozen. 

There won’t be any new meals until the storm is over.

Chapter 86: Hunger

It’s cold and dark and people are starving.

Huddled in enchanted wooden huts, drawn by creatures who can brave the cold better than us, but still freeze. I walk out and heal them, keeping the frostbite at bay, and making people donate mana to me through the core if they want my help, now. I need it, because I burn through my vessel a few times over each day, just trying to keep people on their feet.

Day seventeen passes in silence. We eat rations, we huddle inside as much as possible, the cart’s floor jumping slightly under our feet as we endlessly run from the storm. But it follows us; it hunts us.

I’m sure of that, now. The fact that we’re hunted by the snow. That the storm, somehow, has its eyes on me. I look at the sky, and somehow, I can still make out the silhouettes of the Eyes behind the storm. They’re up there, watching me. Staring down and gorging themselves on the sight of me, huddled near the fires, hoping to stay warm a little longer.

No satisfaction for them. I hold the shivers at bay as I weave my magic, advancing my few projects along, preparing them. One is so close to completion, another is coming along nicely. I weave thread after thread in the cloak, coating them with mana, creating resonance paths for it to flow along, making sure it works. 

Day eighteen passes with more noise.

The first fight for resources. The sun sets, and someone screams. When we get there, all that’s left is a puddle of frozen blood and a scithian corpse, robbed of most clothing and all food. Captain Malcolm swears loudly, groaning in frustration. “No fucken’ killing in my convoy! All scouts, watch out for each other. Anyone who gets caught murdering gets tossed into the snow, damn you!”

Only solemn nods follow.

Day nineteen, quiet.

Day twenty. A bloodbath. It’s gotten so cold that even inside, even near the fire, we can’t melt the sleet anymore. I notice it now that I’m looking at it more closely, but the snow is magical. As it melts, the creeping cold spreads out insidiously, crawling everywhere it can reach. People can no longer make their own water - without artifacts that produce it…

Well, people kill to survive. Thatch, with his [Piercing Gaze] catches one of the murderers. It’s an older woman, the blood flaking off her in frozen, red crystals as we head out to catch her. Captain Malcolm takes her head off with a swing of his axe - and the weapon siphons the heat from her blood, turning her cold in seconds.

I [Observe] those runes for a moment, memorizing them as best as I can.

He thanks us for our work, then heads to the front of the convoy again. We march ever onward, against the storm.

Day twenty-one. The first beasts freeze, fully. Unlike before, there’s no frostbite. No amount of mana can help me heal it. One moment, they were walking, the next, they collapsed into the snow, their bodies cold and drained of heat. Jean stares at them, and I see him wanting to cry. Inu wraps him in a hug. 

His tears freeze on his face.

I stare at the dead animals. Stare into the eye of the one I saved just a few days ago, now a cold corpse. And I feel something bubbling up against my apathy. 

Day twenty-two. Hunger. 

We’re out of rations. The captain butchered the frozen animals, distributing chunks of icy meat to the different people. I don’t eat it. I would rather carve myself up than eat it, but the others toss the chunks right into the fire, fishing them out with frozen fingers before scarfing them down.

The hunger is bad. Other groups have it worse, getting less meat since they are less integral to the convoy. The druids, who usually grow food, are almost useless now, other than as mana batteries for me and Jess to create more fires. I feed dozens of the flames, now.

They don’t really help.

Day twenty-three. There’s a knock at the door. Jean… and Isabelle. “Can we come in?” the boy asks.

Inu nods. More bodies means more warmth, after all. They huddle close together, frost gathering in their hair. We light even more fires, feeding them with as much mana as we can. Thatch even channels his [Rage] into them, making them burn brighter against their cages.

And it’s still freezing.

Day twenty-four. Captain Malcolm tells us to stop. The beasts are dying. The storm is not abating. There’s no more point in running. Bay, Dar, Richard, and Opal chop up some of the now-empty huts of people who died and make a stable for the remaining beasts. Any enchanted board we have is used to reinforce the buildings, to keep in even a tiny bit more warmth.

Ice pelts against our ceilings every day. I feel the hunger gnawing at my stomach. There’s a new corpse every couple hours, and another hut becomes empty, its boards pulled apart and slapped onto others.

It’s cold. The ice invades my veins, and I can feel it trying to freeze my mana. I refuse to let it, forcing the slow, crawling death to be swallowed up by my Abiding Apathy. And it abides, it doesn’t stop.

I live, I breathe, even as my breath turns to frost, even as more people join our shelter, even as we let beasts into the cramped huts. Maximillian and Rose sit in a corner, Pyro’s flames joining Jess’. I put on my headphones, and [Suppress] the murmurs, weaving and enchanting along. It’s almost done now.

Day twenty-five. 

The ascendancy wells light up in my vision, and I can finally see the golden pillars that promise an escape.

“They’re… so far away,” Thatch whispers.

And they are. None are close. Each one is multiple days of walking. We’d freeze to death long before we get there. So, we don’t walk. We don’t move. We huddle together, we conserve heat, we allow more people in. We make more fires, and we fight the cold.

It’s unrelenting, but at least we make it work for every inch it takes.

Day twenty-six. The hunger has really set in. The cold is brutal. Malcolm sits in the corner of the hut, and I see his face in a twisted frown.

There are murderers in here with us, for sure.

He looks at me, at the missing arm, and at Sylves. Slowly, his lips move under his beard, as if he’s thinking. I see him running the gangly arms that are characteristic of the zoof move under his thick fur. He scratches himself.

“I could kill the beasts,” he says. “We can take their heat, keep us a bit warmer, and we can eat their meat and use their fur as blankets.”

Everyone goes silent, considering. Jean looks at him with horror. I look at him with cold cruelty. “No,” I say.

The captain’s frown reappears, and he stares at me. “Would you rather lose a leg, whelp?” 

“Yes,” I reply. “Want me to cut it off?” 

That shuts him up. He grunts, then stares back at the ground. But the idea is seeded in everyone’s mind. It’s just like on the first floor, where it was people or ants. I’m pissed. One of those beasts used a request on me. They’re not mindless.

And yet, the next day, we find a few of them dead, the cold already crawling in to freeze their corpses, only for people to carve strips of meat from the ice. Fucking vultures. Disgusting.

Something has to change. 

Chapter 87: Vanished

Day twenty-seven. 

Norman is gone. No one asks where he’s gone. No one seems even curious.

It’s strange, then, knowing that he’s disappeared, when I cannot quite figure where he went. It seems strange to… almost forget about him like that. Like there was nothing amiss.

Are there fewer people than before? No, no. They died to the cold. Norman wouldn’t die to the cold.

I shove the thoughts from my head, and wait. And wait. And wait.

Day thirty.

We’re starving. I’m so, so hungry. More of the beasts have died… and I’ve killed people for trying to murder them. People use their requests on their deathbeds, asking for just a little more warmth. Artifacts that can keep the cold at bay. We steal those from their corpses, too, using it to keep the rooms even a bit warmer. Just a hint.

My stomach aches with hunger, and the storm rages above.

Day thirty-two. 

Finally, at night, something happens that I can control.

I was asleep, ice covering my eyelids, when a hand touches me, ripping me from my slumber. But that hand isn’t attached to anything. I jump, [Solidfying] a dagger of mana and stabbing forward, hitting only air.

There’s nothing. Ice and ice and more ice, a thick fog of frozen air, leeching the warmth from my bones. I growl in anger. The cold touches me, and for the first time, I reach out and [Deconstruct] it.

Except, then, I remember that it’s not the first time. Not at all.

I’ve done it a dozen times, over, each night when it tried to claim me, and the mist breaks against me. Icy fingers retreat into an ethereal, consuming form, and I know that the storm is not a storm at all, it is a maelstrom of faeries.

A thousand combined monsters killing us with icy fingers. Starving us insidiously, and making people vanish. And for just a moment, I remember that Norman hasn’t disappeared because of the storm - but because of me.

And then, the cold touches me again, and the memories fade. I swallow them into my Abiding Apathy, because I also remembered it was not yet time. Not yet. Just another few days.

Day thirty-five. 

It’s ice cold. I sit with the beasts, in the stable, healing myself, keeping over a dozen fires going, keeping us warm as best I can. The eternal drumming of the sleet against the roof is a lullaby trying to get me to close my weary eyes, to rest but a moment, but the hunger in my stomach grounds me. 

Richard joins me in the stables. I hardly notice as she slides down the wall next to me. She whispers, slowly. “Hungry.” 

And she is. Hiy’ht are probably more susceptible to cold than humans, I’d wager, and with her class… she must be starving. “What can you eat?” I ask.

“Feed me magic,” she requests.

I nod, slowly, and solidify an orb of mana, letting her chew on it. Like a jawbreaker, the construct breaks in her mouth, and I can see the magic transforming as she consumes it. Into something… different. Something I don’t yet get. Something I want to understand in the future.

We wrap up in blankets in between wet furs, and I feed her more mana as the hours tick by. Orb after solid orb, each one denser, more powerful. It’s miserable, but we survive.

Day thirty-eight. Richard is ice cold, but I heal her. More people have vanished from the main camp. Opal meditates, ice-cold blade gently sitting in their lap. Thatch [Channels] his anger through himself, just to keep his heart pumping. Dar is in pseudo-hibernation, his heart only beating every minute or so. 

We handle it. Bit by bit, we handle it. I carve through the cold each night, and forget each morning. Something has to change, I just wait for what. I wait and wait and wait…

Ice falls on the roofs, and it becomes harder to open the doors to the outside. The storm is horrible and icy and I want nothing more than to break it, but it’s bigger than me. I carve into it each night, but forget. My mind feels foggy. I struggle to see, but whenever I do, I simply touch that open part of my skull.

There is a burning there. A pain that marks me as a victim of fire. When I touch my exposed skull, the cold feels less scary, and my vision clears a bit, even as agony spreads through me. In my fugue, I can almost feel the mark the Flametouched left on me, and the way it makes the storm recoil when I remember it exists.

And so, night by night, agonizing fire crawls through my skull. My eyes bleed, and the blood freezes into red icicles before it’s even halfway down my face. My white hair is caked in frost, giving it a blue-silver sheen. 

Day thirty-nine.

Someone tries to kill one of the beasts. I stab him in the chest, wrestling him to the freezing ground, and then kill him. Once he’s dead, I let all the leftover magic fall into my Abiding Apathy, consuming it. I steal his artefacts. Richard descends on the body, hungry for the first real food in days.

It’s ugly, but she eats him. And when it’s done, the body is gone. 

I can almost hear the ice laugh in my ears.

Day… fourty.

I wait. 

Fourty-one.

I wait.

Fourty-two.

My mind is slowing. The cold is winning. I break it every night, but it’s winning, slowly but surely. The animals huddle around me, and I feel the essence within me fighting to stay conscious. I don’t want to freeze.

Fourty-three…

Something happens.

Screams. That’s what I wake up to. Before we know it, the bloodbath is done. One of the four remaining huts is gone. Dead. Every single person in there turned into a frozen corpse, torn apart by tooth and claw and one-another.

The storm wants us to kill each other. I’m sure of that now. It wants us to kill each other, to be suspicious. When we huddled together, we survived longer. We’re defying it, in our own tiny ways, but in that hut, it won. And it feels like only a matter of time until it wins here, too. It’s so cold…

At night, a hand touches me. Like every night, the memories come flooding back. The knowledge that I must break the fae, that the storm is hungry, that there’s something I’m waiting for, that-

I pull my stab, seconds before it hits human flesh. 

Norman stands in front of me, a grey cloak full of mana draped over him. “Hey there, Snow,” he greets. “I’ve worked it out.”

He takes off the mantle I gave to him, and wraps it around my shoulders. The enchantments activate, powered by my mana, and I can feel heat rushing back into my bones, untouched by the hungry ice. Slowly, a smile spreads on my face. “Good work,” I reply. “Let’s give them hell.”

Magic Breaker Ch 82-84

Chapter 82: Time

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

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

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

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

[Level Up! 31 > 32]

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

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

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

[Selection 10 > 11]

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

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

And so, days pass.

- - -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I breathe, and focus on weaving my enchantments.

- - -

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

They asked if I was interested in joining their team.

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

- - -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

Huh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So humans are… pacifists?” Richard chitters.

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 83: Information

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that what it means to be a person?

- - - 

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

He’s a kid. 

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

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

Those eyes are cold.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?” she asks.

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

“Jean doesn’t talk,” she says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, we’ll wait and see.

- - -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 84: Another Healer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your eye?” he writes.

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

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

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

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

“You care about your friends,” Jean notes.

“Sure,” I shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he agrees, seriously.

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

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

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

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

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

“What if your friends get hurt?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds horrible,” Jean writes.

I shrug. “It was tolerable,” I say.

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

“Sure,” I say.

“You’re smiling,” he says.

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

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

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

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

“How does it work?” I ask.

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

“You sneaky rascal,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nod. “Please avoid touching me.”

He looks confused again, tilting his head.

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

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

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

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

[Observation 4 > 5]

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Go ahead, then,” I tell him.

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

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

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

[Biological Restoration 7 > 8]

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

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

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

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

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

Magic Breaker Ch 79-81

Chapter 79: Silliness and Skills

Turns out, fae doesn’t taste very good. Everyone eats, though. Even as it feels weird and disgusting and more than a little like cannibalism. The white-blue flesh turns translucent under heat, and it feels chewy, almost like gum. I hate it. It’s horrible.

For a moment, I consider starving instead, but decide against it. We need food, simple as that. So, we eat. To distract myself from the awful sensation, I [Suppress] everything coming from my mouth, and instead focus on the new spell structures in my mind.

Deconstructing the fogfae has apparently brought multiple benefits. A construct for freezing touch, one for illusions, for manipulation, for etherealness… they used a lot of abilities only to have them countered and torn apart and devoured by my apathy. 

My memory is now the limiting factor. I saw them properly when taking it apart, but there is no perfect record anymore, and due to the fact that I was both freezing and starving and resisting mental manipulation at the time, it’s a little blurry. Which annoys me. I want more magic to study, so I can see about implementing any lessons into my healing skill.

How can I record it? The first idea I have is creating solid mana crystals stored somewhere on my body, maybe like tattoos? But those could be worn away. I consider inscribing it into my brain, somehow. That seems like a horrible idea, though. Crystalline mana interfacing with the primary place my consciousness is hosted sounds like one of my worst ideas. I should be at least on the third floor before trying that.

Oh, who am I kidding. 

Without further hesitation, I start solidifying some mana inside my skull. [Observation] does some heavy lifting there, letting me see inside it. I try to keep the inscription small, a tiny little rune that describes the pattern I remember for Kuro’s shadow abilities.

Instantly, pain blossoms in my skull. It hurts so bad that the mana falls apart, and my vision goes black for a moment. I hiss out a breath of air, then take another bite of the horrid food we’ve made. At least I’m not throwing up. 

Frowning, I drag my hand through my hair. 

Then I try again.

- - -

Thatch sits in front of me with a handkerchief he pulled from his backpack, wiping the blood from my eyes, mouth, and nose. “You really should stop doing that,” he chides, calmly. He doesn’t look into my eyes.

I may have made a tiny cut in my brain with the mana. Just a little thing, really, when I lost focus. It healed right back up with [Biological Restoration] - which I’m really glad about. This was something I needed to test anyway, so I don’t have to feel too bad. Surely. Maybe.

At that, Thatch pokes my cheek to get my attention. “I know that look,” he says, meeting my eyes this time. “Don’t cut your brain again.”

“Ah but you see, this leaves the loophole of bludgeoning-”

“Snow,” he says, seriously. “I get that you wanna push yourself. But please, no bleeding from your eyes?” he pleads.

I blink. Damn it. Now I have to take it seriously. “What about my mouth?”

“No.”

“Nose?”

“No.”

Slowly, my frown deepens. “What if we die because I’m not strong enough?”

Thatch smiles, thinly. “Then we die,” he says, quietly. “We say we gave it our best shot, and fall over. We can struggle and try as hard as possible when we need to.” The smile grows wider. “Plus,” he adds, “no one can beat us.”

I tilt my head. “No one?”

He nods. “No one. I’ll smash in the face of anyone who tries. You can take it a bit easier. Can I ruffle your hair?” he asks.

“Okay,” I agree.

Thatch reaches out and does just that. I see that it makes his smile more genuine, even as I give him my typical deadpan stare. That makes it worth it. “Ask for help if you need it, dummy,” he chides without any heat. “You’re not the only one here.”

Finally, he is entirely right about something. I want them to have an easy time, but that’ll never happen. I understand that. The tower won’t let it. Even in the trial, when I cut my own arm off, it seemed to hurt Sylves more than me. Both because she was anxious, and because she knew what even the best case was for her. She wanted me to cut off my arm, and that thought probably terrified her.

Now, Thatch sits in front of me, wiping my blood off my face because I messed up. Inu almost died in her trial. Sylves lost an arm. I won’t be able to protect them all the time.

I look at Thatch. “Okay,” I say. “I’m trying to create a skill that allows me to store patterns in some place on my body. I want to be able to store inert versions of the mana signatures of any skills I break apart so I can learn them myself. Any ideas?”

He tilts his head, then smiles. “Sounds a lot like Inu’s [Reservoir]. Maybe mix in some of Amelie’s threads, or Sylves’ tailoring. Even Opal’s [Echo] might hold a hint.”

At that, I blink. Because he’s entirely right. I literally have the ability to analyse people’s skills, have been working with Bay for days to get a grasp on [Pulse], and yet, I didn’t think to ask. Slowly, I smile. “I am a bit silly, huh?”

Thatch laughs at me. Out loud, full on laugh, and I can’t help but share his amusement. “Yeah, you are,” he says. “And that’s alright. Go on. Ask Inu. Silly Snow.”

I rise from the soft grass, feeling my stomach rumble in protest, but ignoring it. I’ve had enough of the fae flesh, even though I’m still hungry. Even with sensation cut off and chewing on autopilot, eating it is nightmarish. Nothing worse than food with bad texture. Maybe I really should just cut off a leg, even if I can’t regrow it, just so I don’t have to eat the fae anymore.

“Hey Inu,” I say.

“Hey Snow,” she says, then takes another bite of the food I got us. She’s so focused on the meal, not letting it leave her eyes as if it might evaporate if she looked away. 

“I need help,” I say, slowly.

“I heard,” she says. “Ask.”

My lips press together. “You’re making this awkward,” I say.

“Mhm,” she nods. “I sure am. That’s what you get for falling unconscious for five minutes in the middle of my meal.”

Okay, I see how she may have a point. “If you would show me your [Reservoir] it would help me to not fall unconscious the next time,” I supply hopefully.

“That’s a statement, not a request,” she says. By now, though, all the cold has melted away from her voice, and she smiles a little as she speaks. 

I sigh, faintly. “Fine. Thine ladyship, dearest Ms. Brook-Chavez, would’st thou be so kind as to grace this unworthy one with a display of thine great and incredible skill of storing things?” I ask.

Her smile brightens until she bursts out into a laugh. “Your ladyship?” she asks.

Shrugging, I tilt my head. “Is it inaccurate? If you’d like different pronouns, that’s no trouble either. I can call you lord, monarch maybe if that’s too gendered, squire, page, knight… Ah, but Opal has more knightly vibes, y’know?”

“Opal must be the most un-knightly knight out there,” she teases.

The enby shoots us a look, then grins. “Oh really? Well, I s’pose my manners must be too rowdy for the esteemed lady. From this point forward, I shall thusly be the wayward knight, Opal. Or perhaps I would do better as a ronin?”

Inu grins. “A samurai without a lord! Now that suits you.”

Dar huffs. “I would take my blood sibling over any lord,” he says.

“Now, now, let’s not limit us to lords,” Sylves adds. “Ladies make fine rulers too”

“Of course,” Opal says, bowing. “A dastardly trickster like yourself would make a monarch like none other.”

In response, our haughty fairy flicks her hair behind her back. “And you’d do well to recognize such, ronin! Perhaps we may find a place for you at my court yet.”

“What an honour,” Opal replies with a bright smile.

We all laugh. By the end of the conversation, Inu has already reactivated her skill on me and let me take it apart a dozen times. Bit by bit, I’m learning.

Chapter 80: Nomadic

Thatch stops in the middle of the field, making little Richard bump into him. She frowns, and as retaliation, starts nibbling at his thighs with her mandibles, harmlessly. She doesn’t even make it through the fabric. “City ahead,” he says.

At that, everyone snaps to attention. Bay drops a screwdriver, Jess’ icy visage lightens up, and Sylves almost falls out of the air. “Food,” Norman whispers. “Please, normal, pleasant, food!” I can practically see him drooling, the ungrateful bastard. Then again, I would probably kill for a bag of rice just about now. Maybe I shouldn’t judge. At least hunting the fae has let us all level a bit.

“Do we run?” Inu asks.

“Yes,” Opal replies. Then, a moment later, they blink forward. Instantly, Dar dashes off in a blur of movement, manipulating their inertia. Richard opens her mouth and eats… space, apparently. 

Sylves flies, Thatch channels red hot anger into his feet, Bay pulls out a hoverboard, and Norman uses some kind of dashing skill, too. Which leaves Inu and me to walk, without skills, like the peasants we are. “I can’t believe I have as many movement skills as our tank,” I sigh.

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Well, I’m sure you will figure out teleportation soon enough, mage.”

Smiling, I look to the sky. “Can you cast [Reservoir] a few more times?” I ask.

Rolling her eyes, she nods. “Fine, Snow. Yes, I can.”

As we walk, she casts, and I break it apart. Over and over and over again. That’s what friends are for, after all.

- - -

When we get to the city, we find it’s about what one would expect of a nation eternally moving away from a storm. It’s tents, wagons, tamed beasts of burden, constantly moving. In fact, Inu and I eventually have to run to catch up with it. It’s easier, with higher heart and power stats, even though my friend is still wearing her full armor.

But we do catch up. Jess is already cooking. Thatch traded in a minor request for a wagon for a few days. We’ll need to figure out other ways to pay soon, but we’ll make ourselves useful, for sure. We did, however, receive an allocation of food.

Apparently, seeds had been brought down from the third floor before, and this mobile city had multiple greenhouse wagons. Nothing actually grew on the floor itself, but a few people with classes in a ranger-slash-druid direction - making me curious to see their skills in action - did manage to maintain a few decent plots of soil entirely separated from the grassy hills that blanketed all of the second floor. 

With that, there was a meal. A large pot of stew, made from water from a few of our magic items - ones I haven’t broken… yet - and some of the vegetables we were allocated. Meat is scarce here, since no one sane fights the fae more than needed, or eats them, for that matter, and no one wants to sacrifice beasts that could be put to better use as companions or carriers. 

The leader of the convoy, an old zoof man with fluffy, charcoal-black fur, greets me and Inu too. “New climbers, hear hear!” he says, with a gruff voice. “I’m Malcolm. Make yourselves at home. Put your skills to use, don’t cause any trouble. Benefit of the doubt usually goes to whoever was here first, so don’t start things. If you’re treated unfairly, tell people.”

He pats Inu on the shoulder, with a long, thin, gray limb, and tries to do the same thing with me, but I step back. He eyes me suspiciously. 

“Snow’s particular about personal space,” Thatch fills in for me. “Means nothing by it.”

“Hmmm, ain’t ever met a do-gooder who minds a pat on the back,” captain Malcolm says. “ I’ll have my eyes on ye. Don’t stir up anything.”

With that, he’s off. 

I look around at all the other climbers. There are a handful of humans around them. The noise of it all is already enough to get on my nerves and I really, really want my headphones back. I turn to Bay, staring. She looks up at me, mouth full of stew. “Wha?” she asks.

“Have you managed to charge anything yet?” I ask.

She shakes her head, then swallows. “Sorry, no,” she says. “Getting closer. Got a phone to just about two percent before it fried and blew up.”

At that, I nod. She’ll figure it out. She has to. Maybe I should be paying more attention to this project? Ah, but then again… my magic is already helpful.

With a quick twist of mana, I [Suppress] my own hearing, and the world becomes dull and quiet. I put on my headphones, too. They’re not on, out of battery, but I tweak my skill until it feels almost the same. Then, I close my eyes, feeling slightly at peace. 

“Hey Bay? You’ve got some kind of storage skill, right? Can you cast it for me to take apart?” I ask, not hearing my own voice. 

The world is so quiet, I don’t hear Bay’s reply, but a few seconds later, the spell weaves itself into being, and I [Deconstruct] it. Again. And again. And again. In blissful silence. I love my headphones.

- - -

When evening comes around, we are all fed, housed, and even as we catch the slightest edge of the storm, we bear with it without complaint. It’s a drizzle on the tarp, quite calming, really. Jess creates little fires that don’t spread and cause no smoke, fuelled entirely by mana. I take one apart, and she looks at me, summoning it again. 

This time, when I try to deconstruct it, there’s resistance. Some kind of cohesive force holding the little flame in place. It’s like I’m trying to blow out a fire, and it sparks back to life from the embers, feeding off the residual air. Is this flame feeding from my mana?

Jess smiles at me.

It’s the first time I’ve seen the frozen expression on her face move in a little while. She’s genuinely amused by the fact that she gets to poke back at me a bit. I pour some more mana into [Deconstruction], and properly reach into the toolbox.

My skill is full of little tricks to pick at the mana of a construct. If Jess is adjusting her skill to be more resistant to it, I’ll just find a new weakness. 

And I do.

[Observation 3 > 4]

When I cut through a few threads of mana, the flame sputters out, and the remaining fragments of the skill fuel my own mana, falling into Abiding Apathy. I smile, and Jess returns it, brightly. She summons a new flame, adjusting the pattern again. Somehow, it’s almost like a game.

The evening passes peacefully. Rain falls on the tarp. Opal sleeps on top of Dar. Thatch is bundled up in blankets. Inu leans against the wall, her eyes closed serenely. Richard has a full belly and seems satisfied at the food.

I breathe the wet air of the storm infested highlands, and the fog slowly seeps into the world, becoming denser as the night comes. And then, when everyone is asleep, I go outside, to help with the defense of the caravan. Sylves follows me, calming the air to silence our steps. And we head out to fight, to do our part in earning our keep.

Chapter 81: Trouble

I take a deep breath of the cold morning air. Five days have passed since we started travelling with the caravan, and people are suddenly afraid of me. I have no idea at all of how this could have happened.

Sylves has made herself rather popular, though, giving out food, and asking for thread and cloth in exchange. Bay has been doing some tinkering with the wagons, fixing wheels. Norman’s mainly been running back and forth the caravan, probably looking for some type of messenger job. 

It’s fun seeing how everyone fits in. Amelie’s puppets do a lot of work in duties no one else wants to do, like latrines and crop-tending. Jess feeds fires, Richard cooks… and I enchant. 

Well, granted, saying that my main job is enchanting would be grossly inaccurate. 

What I really do is kill.

My build counters the fogfae. Hard counters. I kill them, and help my party kill them, too, to level. It’s come to the point where I’ve saved a half dozen lives, just by turning them ethereal when an attack was meant to land. People are thankful… but scared. Because they see the way I fight. The way I walk up to the monsters, and take them apart. 

That’s okay. They aren’t talking to me as much anymore. There is, however, a conversation going on. I yawn, gently, having tuned it out.

“Are ya listening, brat?” captain Malcolm asks. His wiry hands are crossed in front of his body with disapproval. “Another party reported a runic item going missing from their tent last night. You’re an enchanter, right?”

I nod. “Sure.”

“You don’t happen to know anything about this?” he asks, annoyed. 

“Nope,” I shake my head.

Narrowing his eyes at me, the old zoof frowns and grumbles. “Fine then. Make sure you don’t enter others’ living quarters, though. Or else there’ll be trouble.”

“Of course,” I nod.

Grumbling some more, the old man stomps off, back to the front of the caravan. We’ve been pushing hard the last few days, since the storm is nearby and pulling closer, so we’re trying to outrun it until it changes direction again. Which means long days and even longer nights. 

I’ve revealed my healing abilities. On the third night, one of the pulling beasts, a bison looking thing, caught a leg in a hole left by a fist-sized hailstone, and snapped something in their ankle.

So, I healed it.

There is another healer in the camp, but the owner of the bison didn’t offer enough of a reward, apparently. Additionally, he was very tightly guarded by his own group, hardly ever leaving their tent. Coward.

With my experience healing ants, the flesh knit back together under my touch, and we continued moving, but people started treating me with a lot more… not warmth, really. More like hunger.

I went from scary to a commodity. 

That’s fine, though. Whenever I don’t want anyone to talk to me, I simply put on my headphones, sit on the outside of our tent-wagon, and [Suppress] the sounds of the world. I take out another wheel they want me to work on and start carving enchantments into it with a stylus made from mana. It’s not the first I’ve made, and it’ll be far from the last.

[Inscription 8 > 9]

It is enough to tick over my skill. I’ve been studying the runes in the booklet that a minor request bought me, as well as threading my mana through my upgraded maze and tracing the runes on that, too. Enchanting is progressing. Almost, for a moment, I consider smiling.

Then, someone sits down next to me.

It’s a girl. She’s small, timid looking. Probably towards the end of her teens. Her legs dange in the air as the tent pulls forward, and she pushes a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Tinkling shards of sapphire are folded neatly behind her back, wings kept aside.

“You’re a healer, right?” she asks, piercing green eyes staring at me.

I look at her. Slowly, I tilt my head. She smells like strawberries. I know because of how close she chose to sit. Gently, I use [Suppression] on myself, smoothing out my emotions. “No,” I say, my expression entirely neutral.

At that, she seems confused. “Liar!” she protests. “I saw you heal the inson!” 

Shrugging, I look back at the wagon wheel. “Must’ve forgotten since.”

She looks at me, mouth open wide at my shamelessness. “No you haven’t!” she says. “Teach me.” Then she tries to reach over and grab my shoulders. 

I look at her, and in that moment she decides to touch me, I [Select] her. [Suppression] flares, and a good quarter of my mana pours into the skill, relieving some of the pressure that’s constantly building in my chest. Her slowed movements crash into a wall of mana around me.

[Suppression 12 > 13]

“Please don’t touch me,” I say, calmly.

The girl looks at me, aghast. Her mouth struggles to move against the oppressive pressure. I look at her, and wait for the mana powering it to run out. It takes another ten seconds, then she gasps for air for a second. 

“How dare you use a skill on me?!” she demands, looking angry.

I tilt my head. “Haven’t you been trying to use one on me this whole time?”

She flinches. 

“Now, maybe I’m wrong, but I suspect it’s stronger if you touch me,” I say.

“No, I-”

As she starts, I just stare at her. She talks on and on, about how she definitely wasn’t trying anything, and another, much more subtle attempt to influence me in some way reaches me. I break that, too.

Her words stop flowing as her skill falls apart. I just keep staring at her. She looks at me. Now, she seems scared. “I’ll just…”

“Opal,” I say.

There’s a tiny pop, and my friend appears where she was just turning, both hands crossed behind their head. “Yeah, Snow?” they ask.

I smile, slightly. It never gets old. The girl starts to look more scared. I should feel bad, probably. She’s, what, nineteen? Well, old enough to need to take responsibility at least. “Charge for causing me trouble is one minor request.”

She balks. “What?!”

“Charge for causing me trouble is one minor request.”

“No way!” she protests. “Do you know who I am? My mother is a climber on the sixth floor! I’ll have her-”

“Okay,” I say, leaning back. “No problem. If your mom is so important, you can scamper off.”

She grins, victoriously. “Then you’ll have to teach me.”

“Nope,” I say. “Leave.”

The girl gives a few more attempts, but I tune her out. She’s some kind of beast tamer, I think. Except, well, there’s no such a thing as “beast tamers”. It’s all the same kind of affection-increasing skill. The same she tried to use on me, trying to make me into a loyal follower of hers.

When she gives up, she eventually scampers off. I look at Norman. He looks back at me. I finish the wheel I’ve been working on, then pull out the cloak I’m preparing. He rolls his eyes with annoyance, but nods.

The girl wanders off to her tent. Surely nothing bad will happen. Surely none of her magical belongings will disappear. Surely there will be no trouble at all in the camp. Not by me. Never. 

Surely.

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.

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.”

Magic Breaker Ch 70-72

Chapter 70: Eyes and Epitaphs

/”Philia is dead.”

“What?!”

“Killed by a rookie, Ion. Tried to abduct the newbie for a healing skill. The little monster hid in the tunnels for half a month, then came back and just killed her.”

“Holy fuck.” 

“Monsters. Absolute monsters.”/

-A conversation overheard in the city of Espiree, first floor of the tower.

- - -

I look at the still-warm corpse and sigh. “What a waste,” I  grumble. And she had to die pathetically, too. I hate when people ask me for stuff. And yet, her stupid goddess had to go and do just that.

[You have killed a lv. 52 Darkbreaker]

[Level up! 24 > 29]

All my points go straight into vessel, intensifying the pain in my chest, but it’s bearable. I just start feeding even more of my mana into my skills, keeping them active. Now that the danger has passed, a chunk of my regeneration gets fed to making denser and denser needles of mana, or [Suppressing] myself for training…

Ah, but before I get too distracted, yet more messages flood in.

[Respitia the Pure is outraged. She denounces you.]

The message carries a weight that I usually associate with another force, who I expect to comment soon. But, for now, I focus on the sensation that’s there. A weight of disapproval, of hatred, of a sworn enemy. Well, that’s okay. Just one more Eye to pluck from the sky.

[The Embrace welcomes Philia into their fold. It is amused by the inverted expectation.]

[Your cold-blooded murder greatly pleases the Master of Suffering. You are sponsored one minor request.]

[Aloofly, the Creeping Darkness praises your companion’s use of shadows. It is decidedly not dancing in excitement. You are sponsored one minor request.]

Those silly idiots. I almost smile at that last message. What an amusing critter. I suppose they’re allowed to hand out favours like that - the fact that I’m not offered a choice makes me think that there aren’t any strings attached. 

It does make me feel a little disgusted, like a dancing monkey. But, at the same time, it’s free real estate, so I accept it for now. The next message amuses me more.

[Second Threshold (supremacy lv. 25) crossed! Please select an Epitaph.]

Huh. I’m not dead yet, so I don’t imagine that’s what it means. Perhaps it’s a trait that’s defining enough to be remembered after my death? “Show me my options,” I tell the system. There’s a pause before that, and the same box about ‘being provided additional info’, same as when I got my class options, and I rapidly sit down.

My head floods. Epitaphs are, as it seems, another system pillar, next to classes and jobs and supremacy. They don’t operate with levels, though. Instead, you pick an epitaph for each stat.

They define something subtle about you, shaping your abilities in unique ways, strengthening the functions a stat performs. They’re, effectively, tailored enhancements, both passive and meant to be built upon. 

In a lot of ways, they change as you live, adjusting at one’s actions. They’re a path to walk down. Unlocking the first can be done through supremacy, as unlocking a class can be, and the others need to be found manually, like acquiring a job. It’s about self-dictating one’s own purpose.

I breathe, and repeat myself. “Show me my options.”

[Epitaph: Song of Scarlet (Heart)

You cut, you cull, you carve and kill,

You sing a song of blood to spill.]

I blink. That is a lot more sinister than I thought. Yet, at the same time, it’s true. I’ve done a lot of killing since the tower started, usually accompanied by a not insignificant rush of adrenaline. It does, in some ways, suit me. It also feels wrong.

[Epitaph: Vicious Void (Power)

A blank page, a starless sky,

Encompassing fury, eye for eye.]

Another one that fits me. Especially recently. When someone hurts me or my friends, they pay. Brutally, instantly, and excessively. It’s not even really fury, but there is no proper word to describe the cold hatred I feel when I want to cut someone down. But, at the same time, it’s so… aggressive. Not quite me.

[Epitaph: Abiding Apathy (Vessel)

Empty, dull, the need to take,

From broken bits you then remake.]

I close my eyes, breathing. Abiding Apathy. It’s… right. The others are too angry, vicious. This one is the only one that mentions me making something.

There’s a sadness in that. The fact that I was only given one option for creation, but it’s okay. This one’s better than the others. It suits me more. I wish, I really wish, that I’d earned something brighter, something more vibrant and kind… but that’s not me.

Sighing softly, I resign myself to the apathy that already washes over me again. I pick Abiding Apathy, and the sensation settles right into that hole in my chest. I can feel it resonate with my vessel, changing that tightness pressing against my sternum from the inside. 

And, all at once, I understand what it means.

Abiding Apathy is what it says on the tin. It reinforces that part of who I am, it puts a bit of my personality into my mana. The hunger, the curiosity, the desire to take things apart and take those parts for myself. It’s a simple effect, really.

Whenever I break magic, I can siphon some of that mana into my own vessel, now. 

It lets me take one thing apart and build another with it. It’s strong. Slowly, I breathe in, then out. I wonder. Philia was over level 50, so did she have something like this, too? Maybe something like brilliant recovery, I’d wager. A healing thing, or something to intensify her light skills. 

But if the first threshold was level 10, and the second 25… what’s the third? I’d guess it to be 50. She was barely above it, so maybe she didn’t yet wield it very skillfully? But I’m curious what she could have gained.

Then, gently, I discard that thought. My friends are, after all, still fighting. I wipe the blood off my hands and face, dirtying the crappy shirt I’m wearing. Then I stand up.

My feet feel shaky, the new sensation in my chest making the world feel a little dull. I adjust, and that feeling fades away. My mana beats in my vessel, feeling heavy in my chest. Is there an actual organ forming? What kind of thing would power make, if vessel and heart are organs?

Do different people manifest their stats differently? I’d imagine so. After all, Philia’s mana felt rather different from mine. All glowy and bright. Not at all like the dull grey most of my skills take on. I start walking as I think, slowly heading back through the tunnels.

Kuro cloaks me in darkness, and stifles the small noises my steps might otherwise have made. Slowly, steadily, I walk on, guided by the faint pull towards Elis I can feel. She’s fighting, and so, it’s prime material for an ambush. 

Let’s try out that new quality of my mana.

Chapter 71: Cleanup

[Level up! 29 > 30]

I stand above the corpse of another priest. A real shame, that. Killing so many healers surely will cause trouble for Espiree. But, oh well. It is what it is. They came after me, so they died. 

There’re better people to mourn them, I’ll leave the grieving to those.

“Whewee,” Opal says with a half-whistle, dragging a bloodied hand through their hair, staining the black with crimson. “That was intense. Didn’t think a buncha old farts could fight like that. Those paladins were fast.”

Inu gives them a long look. She’s not full of blood, unlike the others. Instead, the people around her lay dead with hardly any visible wounds. She’s running a vicious, thorns-style build at this point. Getting hit, rebounding people, banking that pain in her [Reservoir], then unleashing it on her enemies all at once.

When they’re stunned by the crashing wave of pain and fear, a single blow to the head means they’re done. 

“This was… horrible,” she says slowly. “Snow. Can you heal me, please? I think just about every bit of my body is bruised under that armor.” She gives me a small, awkward smile, but I nod, taking her gauntleted hand and pouring mana into [Biological Restoration].

[Biological Restoration 4 > 5]

It levels up instantly, the system recognizing the improvements I’ve made after breaking apart some of the healing skills of the priests. They were keeping the paladins alive, turning it into a battle of attrition. When those healing spells stopped working, it was over pretty fast. 

Inu’s flesh knits together, and I move on to do the same for Thatch. He is the most bloody out of all of us. Splattered in it, yet eerily calm. He looks at me, and I pull him into a hug. 

Slowly, his arms wrap around me, and a sob wracks his lips. “Fuck,” he says. “It’s… shit. I feel horrible.”

“I know.” I squeeze him harder. This kinda hug is cool. He doesn’t see my deadpan expression, just gets a little bit of warmth. I look at Inu, and she nods. Slowly, I let Thatch go. She talks to him instead.

“It’s the [Rage], right?” she asks.

Thatch nods, putting his face in his very bloody hands, drawing streaks of scarlet all over his handsome cheeks. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. My class helps but… it’s never been so real. So close. I’ve felt it but never… hurt people.”

Sylves pulls at my sleeve, and I turn to her. She points to a rock outcropping, and I nod. We sit down. She keeps a bit of distance from me, probably knowing that the hug with Thatch took all the closeness I can manage. Well, I could dredge up some more, but this is okay for now. Opal leans against the wall next to us, and we watch and listen as they talk.

Empathetically, Inu pats his shoulder. “It doesn’t make you less human.”

“It sure feels like it does,” Thatch says with a sad laugh.

I tilt my head. That’s something I never got. The obsession with being human. There’s nothing that special about being human, is there? Well, I suppose in this case it’s more being used as “a decent person”. How silly.

Inu nods quietly, hugging him again. “What about it feels bad?”

Thatch grinds his teeth. I look, and cast [Suppression] in a wide range. He looks to me, and I nod. “No one except us can hear you.”

Slowly, shakily, he nods. We’re not his parents, we’re not strangers. As friends, we all know the others are a little messed up, so he can say it, too. Let the image of perfection crack and fall away. He looks at Inu. “It feels right. To embrace it, to break people. I hate that I enjoy it.”

I stop the smile before it can spread on my face. It’s almost vindicating, hearing it. Thatch, always collected, always calm. Our best negotiator, and the kindest of us, is easy to anger. And that’s okay. I don’t like him any less.

Inu just nods, understandingly. “It’s okay. You’re still you, right? You’re in control. You haven’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

Sylves nods at that, looking at the corpses again. Almost… hungrily. She has no blood on her, but she, nonetheless, killed them. I think her faerie magic somehow interacted with the blood, causing it to slip off her, or something like that. She’s still wreathed in wind and moonlight, surrounded by a faint smell of rot. 

“Yeah, I guess…” Thatch says, unconvinced. “I don’t wanna be like this all the time. I don’t want that… anger, all the time.”

“Skills can mutate,” I provide. “If you do it enough, you can probably change your [Rage] into something else.”

His eyes glint at that. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I think I’d… I’d like that.”

I nod, and Inu gives me a small smile. I don’t think he’ll be able to get rid of the anger fully. It’s not like the system skills are granted randomly. Thatch was granted what he got for a reason. Just how Opal got their starting skills for a reason, and I got mine, and Sylves got hers.

They describe us, in a lot of ways. And Thatch? I’m honestly glad he was just hiding a bit of anger. If that’s everything, then I don’t mind at all. I take a long breath. What could he turn his rage into? I bet he can get something like [Tempered Fury] or similar. And I think Inu can help him with her [Reservoir]. Maybe I can even use [Suppression] on it, and we can work from there.

Already, ideas bud in my mind. “I got some plans,” I tell Thatch. “Combining or affecting your anger with our skills might help you change it a bit,” I explain, in the same way that when I took apart the healing of the priests, it helped me improve. “Let’s do some experiments when you feel a little more… grounded, yeah?”

He gives me a smile, and a tired nod. The desperation and despair slowly drips away, revealing a young man who is just exhausted. Drained to the bone. He’s covered in blood, but Sylves can take care of that. I drop the [Suppression], and the click-clack of the ants’ legs on stone returns. 

We won. 

As much as there is grief involved, and as shitty as it feels, we won.

And the tower knows it. Well, not quite yet, of course, but we have certainly changed the landscape of Espiree. With the church of Respitia significantly hurt in terms of power, the city would change. And the ants would get to claim more territory.

In fact, since things were so different, there was a real chance for the ants to sweep the city clean after some more growing, though I doubted they would. With Amelie pushing into the centipedes, and Philia so graciously wiping out most of the beehive, it only takes us a few more days to sweep to full caverns clear and have the colony establish more bases in them.

And then, once we’ve taken that territory, the tower acknowledges it.

[Ascension Quest completed. Revealing locations of Ascension Wells. Do not Ascend before reaching the first threshold. You have received one minor request.]

With this and the two I got from the Eyes, I have three minor requests. I could trade them all in for a job ascension, and getting a new job up from enchanter, but I don’t wanna use them on that. I look at the mana maze, at the runes that have appeared after enhancing it with the previous requests, and consider adding more. Or, I could enhance the water generating flask. Or maybe…

Maybe I should ascend to the next floor first, then make the decision. 

I sigh, just a little bit, as the colony hustles and bustles around us. “You’re staying here, then?” I ask Meg, and she nods. “You too?” I ask Elis, and she nods, too. 

“Yes,” Meg says. “The first floor is not the highest, but it is safe. I wish for my family to make a home here. Perhaps, someday soon I may ascend and start hives across the floors. But not quite yet.”

“Are the floors actually in the same space, above one another?” Inu asks.

Slowly, Meg nods. “Yes,” she says. “If we dig upwards for long enough, we may reach the second floor someday. This may be a good option, though it draws the tower’s wrath to ascend without the trial of a well. Anyone who has passed a trial though is free to use mundane means of travelling upwards.”

“I see,” Thatch says, then gives a small bow. “Then, we thank you for your assistance.”

Meg laughs, and waves him off with one of her barbed forelimbs. “Do not mention it, please. You helped us. You may be our champions, but we are your chosen colony, and for that, we are grateful.” She dips her head, and Elis mirrors the motion. 

There’s a small smile on my face. “Then, I suppose we shall see each other again, perhaps. Someday. I hope your colony thrives.”

“And I wish you luck in your climb,” Meg says. “May the tower be ever in your favour.” 

Then, we stand up, and leave. Cavern by cavern, tunnel by tunnel, we leave the area controlled by the colony. The haughty ant that I first met sees us off with a waving of her antennae. 

And then, we’re off, to one of those glowing points of interest. No one from Espiree follows after us, that’s for sure. There are, after all, thousands of ants in the caves behind us. With them at our back, all I need to do is look forward… 

And climb.

Chapter 72: Fame and Infamy

Espiree is in shambles.

A city on the first floor, robbed of half the leadership of one of the most important organisations. The entire floor is in uproar. Other cities have their local churches rally, sending more healers and priests to Espiree, taking the dangerous trek through the tunnels.

They take on more apprentices, passing on healing skills as much as possible, but the magics are complicated, and few people are suited to it. The church requires piety and kindness, and people who bow easily are rarely good enough. 

Snivelling cowards apply. Greedy scum applies. And, occasionally, someone who actually wants to help others applies.

They all get accepted all the same, because, to some degree, they need to save face.

Baron van Torin denies any involvement, and no one can call him out on the lie. He is, after all, powerful. The Keeper of the Tunnels, ruler of the city, refuses to intervene. After all, it did not happen in the city.

All they can say is that their strongest paladin, along with dozens of priests and religious warriors went into the tunnels, chasing after some stupid rookie with a chunk of missing skin, and not a single one of them has come back.

Bishop Ilyus slams his fists on the table once more. Dozens of letters are sprawled about the table. Dozens of requests for difficult healing procedures that they don’t have mana or manpower for. Climbers are dropping by the minute, and he can’t do jack about it. “That worthless swine,” he curses, thinking of the rookie.

Ion. That little monster. Crawling up from a newly integrated world with a party of rookies. It had been three weeks since they ran from the city.

Three weeks.

That’s how long it took them to kill someone over the third threshold. Someone with an epitaph and a shroud. Their strongest paladin stationed in Espiree, now dead in the tunnels. By the hands of some third rate nobody!

He slams his fists on the table, furiously answering letters. Ion, the monster rookie, was already in everyone’s mouths. Respitia had denounced the human, after all. The bishop’s wings, made of fragmented obsidian shards, shake in rage. 

Ion had to die. That much is certain, and he knows it. The question is just who to send on the hunt? The church isn’t exactly known for trackers.

Except… there is one. And wasn’t he on the second floor recently? Called down for a crime, almost banished, made to serve time in a lower floor than suitable. Slowly, a smile creeps across his lips. Yes, that’ll do nicely.

- - -

Harry has been an innkeep for the last twenty years. Him and his husband, Michael, a zoof, were damn good at it, too. Mike cooked, Harry served and took care of beds and rooms. They could do with someone to clean, but as an [Archon of the Bathtub] he did a fine job at that.

The most fun part, by far, was listening to rumors, though. Climbers are a gossipy sort, after all. It all runs on fame, y’see. Credit. Word of mouth. Anyone who’s known as being tough gets met with no trouble. Anyone known to stir things up is kept out of cities. True as the tower.

And so, when there is the third conversation that day about a rookie who stayed at his tavern, he smiles. Word of mouth spreads fast. “Tough one,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. And he knows it’s true.

Innkeeping is a lot of things. It’s about serving decent food, about keeping things clean, about providing respite and comfort and taking care of people. It’s, in a lot of ways, the opposite of climbing. But there are similarities, otherwise, not nearly as many climbers would retire to be innkeeps.

One of those similarities is interactions. It’s talking with people, it keeps ya sharp, it means you needa be a good judge of character. And Harry was a damn good judge. 

He spreads his wings, stretching them. They clink and chime in the faint breeze coming through the window, the stale air of the tunnels being kept in circulation by a terribly minor application of a class skill. 

Ahhhh, hearing those stories is nice. Listening about how Ion got revenge on the paladin from the church. He grins behind a bushy beard. Hearing of those exploits, the chase, the tricks, the trapped tunnels, the one-on-one, and the embellishments… It all takes him back to better days.

When he was younger, more ambitious. When he wanted to see the top. 

With a wet rag, he wipes down the counter, and his husband, all grey fur and dark eyes, comes from the kitchen. He places down a few plates, expertly balanced on his hands - and a few more floating in the air around him, then looks to Harry.

Beneath that fur, a smile sprouts. “My, my,” he teases with a rumbly voice. “Someone seems to have lit that fire in you again.”

Harry smiles, running a hand through his mane of hair, over his leathery skin. “You might say so,” he muses, quietly.

Michael wraps an arm around him. “What say you, husband. Shall we try to conquer the heights of the tower once more?!” the zoof proposes, loudly enough for the entire tavern to go quiet.

The innkeep’s cheeks turn a shade darker, and he gives the chef a quick kiss. “Not today,” he says, loudly enough for everyone to hear. Then, in a whisper, he adds, “but… maybe.” He looks up. “Maybe.”

Only one person in the tavern hears it, but the smile blooming on Harry’s furry face is all it takes. More rumors spread, his reputation well known. Perhaps it was time for this [Worldcarver] to walk up the stairs one more time? 

He kisses the chef again, for good measure, feeling that flame in his chest. Perhaps. Perhaps.

- - -

The Keeper of the Tunnels is one of the most well-known Eyes of the tower. They are, after all, the ruler of the first floor. This means that almost everyone who passes through it will come into contact with them in some variety.

Cities are their bastion, held together by guards and avatars.

One such avatar of them, the ruler of Espiree, rubs their face. “Damn it,” they say, running a hand over their hairless head, overworked. They haven’t slept in two days, fighting to keep the city stable as new hunters flood in and old blood floods out.

Usually, the tunnels of the first floor are stale things. They don’t change much. Every integration, that balance is upset.

New species flood upward from new extensions to the outside of the tower. Something that’s not even a floor, barely has any mana, and usually only features mana-based towerspawn during integration. And yet, there are always rising stars.

They look at a list, scratching at an unwashed, blank face, set with six holes. Sumeen. 

In front of them, there is a set of names. People who came up from below, accepted leaders of noteworthy parties, those who have made a stir. Ion, the monster rookie, who killed someone past the third threshold. 

Maximillian, a broad shouldered man with a strong sense for justice, who single handedly pummelled a thief to smithereens, earning a fierce reputation for his iron fists. Clone, a short girl with short, dark hair, and the ability to create copies of herself, having used her own body as a distraction to steal things. Caster, a tall, scrawny human with a grimoire, who, greedy for knowledge, spent all their given money on magic lessons, then plied that trade to earn more.

The hive-champion of the hiy’ht, Terror, and their ever growing army. There are three noteworthy wulven in the city, too, the warrior-siblings. Blood, Sweat, and Tears, who swiftly joined expeditions into the tunnels, returning triumphantly.

Once more, the avatar rubs at their face. Luckily, the rising stars were doing what rising stars usually did - they climbed. There was only so much for them to do on the first floor, but that meant their attention shifted. 

With a twist of their mind, the Keeper’s avatar sees the golden pillars that indicate ascension wells. They would be hotly contested, now, the outposts there needing reinforcements. Jobbers, ready to provide food, healing and shelter for those who failed to move up. Jobbers that the city could not spare.

They let out a long, melodically humming, suffering sigh. “I fricking hate rookies.” 

So much to do. So few people to put in the work. It was time to ask some favours then, shore up the tunnels, make sure the wells were accessible enough, make sure no one tried to monopolise them. Sometimes rookies did that, and drew the Tower’s Wrath.

It never ended well.

Another sigh, and then, they start drafting letters, casting an ability to have the thin strips of mushroom-paper fold itself and flap origami wings in search of their recipients. Allocating personnel, requesting that the leaders of guilds get off their butts and start putting in actual work, and doing their best to make sure the tunnels return to stability soon.

Tower knows they settled on the first floor because they liked the calm, stale air. 

“Stupid rookies.”

Already, they were infamous.

Chapter 283: Valley of Balance

Chapter 283: Valley of Balance

The peak of Broken Balance was, in fact, two peaks. With a big, jagged cliff between them. The mountains were not nearly as jagged or spiky as the peak of Slaughter, but they were still pretty rough.

“On that note,” Mercury hummed. “Why are you here?” he asked.

Gun-Byeong the Beast, master of the peak of Slaughter, scratched at his beard. “Well,” he said. “You seemed interesting. And you are a disciple of my peak.”

“Barely,” Mercury sighed.

The burly man shrugged. “Barely still counts,” he tried, weakly. 

Zyl gave Gun-Byeong a side-eye, and then shrugged. “Fair enough,” the dragon said. By now, both of them were pretty much fine again. At a certain level, regeneration became doable, so fights were… almost safe, really.

Of course, permanent injuries were a thing. Someone like Mercury had plenty of ways to inflict wounds that were almost impossible to heal. Same went for Zyl, and an old monster like Gun-Byeong had those, too. But anyone with a remotely functional mind wouldn’t use those, because it would make the opponent use theirs.

So, in a spar, they just swung their fists, no holds barred… and no permanent injuries. No ‘attacking the very idea’ of someone. What a silly thing, Mercury thought. What was fighting like that for? Was it… fun? It didn’t seem very fun.

At least, even when it didn’t exactly hurt, Mercury didn’t like getting his leg torn off. 

Then again, he did let his friends set him on fire recreationally, so what did he know?

Instead of worrying about the purpose of fighting recreationally, something he was unlikely to understand anytime soon, Mercury looked at the peak of Broken Balance again. And the palace that spanned its top.

“So the ravine is the valley of Balance?” Mercury asked, looking down, and Chung nodded. 

“It is,” the boy said. Then, he looked at the palace. A gigantic construction made from white marble and black basalt, spanning both peaks. Between the two was a shattered bridge, where the colours may once have met.

Mercury tilted his head. “So where’s the peak master?” he asked.

“Oh, one second,” Gun-Byeong said with a little too much excitement. A moment later, he flared his Qi in a giant pulse, sending dust flying and the air rippling outwards. The stone of the palace shook just slightly, and not long after, two women rose from the respective peaks.

One was dressed in all black, with matching lipstick, fishnets, and a crop top, while the other wore an angelic, white robe, and even had a halo floating above her head. For a moment, the two looked like a united pair. Then, a moment later, whitey stuck her finger out at blacky. “Oh, how fucking dare you, you bitch!” she accused.

“Me?!” blacky responded, hand to heart, outraged. “How dare you?! It’s not even midday yet, it is still my time!”

“Your time, yeah! That doesn’t mean you get to blow up dust in my house, you bitch!”

“Oh, you, you, you, it’s always just you, isn’t it, Shiro? In your ideal world I’d just be quiet and stop existing until you looked my dang way!”

The angelic looking woman gasped in horror, then grimaced. “You know that’s not true!” she said, pointing at the other lady, her cheeks flushing with outrage. “All I ask for, Kuro, is a little bit of consideration! It can’t be that dang hard, can it? This is why we moved apart!”

Mercury blinked, and looked at Gun-Byeong. The master of Slaughter stood there with his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face. The mopaaw stared at the two women, and sighed softly. “Are they divorced?” 

“Yep.”

“Was this the peak of Balance before?” Mercury asked.

Chung shook his head. “It used to be the peak of Fragile Balance,” the young cultist provided.

“And whose fault is that?!” the woman in black, Kuro, accused.

“I cannot believe this,” Mercury said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. “I just cannot believe it.”

Shiro scoffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah? And which one of us is making even foreigners sigh, huh? Fuckin’ bitch.”

“Yeah, wow, this is painful,” Zyl sighed. He looked at the sky and raised his voice to properly grab their attention. “Hey!” the dragon called. “Can the two of you just make up?”

“You want us to make out?! That’s sexist!” Kuro accused.

“Pervert!” Shiro chided.

“This is my boyfriend,” Zyl said, quickly picking up Mercury and placing him in front of himself like a shield. 

The mopaaw turned human raised a hand. “Hi,” Mercury said. “I’m gay. Also he said make up not make out.”

And for the first time, the two stopped bickering, and looked at each other instead. 

“Oh,” Shiro said, then turned at Kuro with a mocking sneer. “You hear what you wanna hear, huh?”

The woman in black blushed, then crossed her arms. “So what if I do, huh?!”

“Wait you do?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, dang. Me too.”

And then they kissed. Gun-Byeong stared in disbelief, his mouth wide open. “There’s no way,” he said. “There’s no dang way.”

- - -

It took a little while for Mercury to actually make his way into the peak of, and he could absolutely not believe it, Restored Balance. That was after he had fixed the bridge between the two castles, and the two women who were very much so a couple again, it seemed. 

“If you mention the words ‘dual cultivation’ one more time, I will personally unmake that bridge,” Gun-Byeong said seriously. 

Shiro pouted at his words. “Buzzkill,” she said quietly.

The six of them - Mercury, Zyl, Chung Nam-Cheong, Gun-Byeong, Shiro and Kuro - sat in a room that was incredibly decorated. The furniture was plush, the entire thing was covered in a fluffy rug, and plushies covered shelves all over. The two women sat on a couch, and Gun-Byeong looked entirely out of place on his chair.

It was a plush chair, of course, and it also looked fit for a stuffed rabbit, rather than a man about as big as a freight train. And despite that, even after his gruff words, he politely took a sip out of a pink teacup.

Mercury really had not expected to find a pastel goth on Chronagen, yet here he was. “So,” he said, “you two are the peak master of the peak of Restored Balance?”

“Yepyep,” Shiro said cheerily, only having eyes for Kuro. “That’s us.”

“And you teach your disciples some kind of ice-fire balance method?” Mercury asked.

“For sure,” Kuro said, staring at Shiro.

Mercury frowned slightly. “Alright,” he said. “I’d like to learn?”

At that, both of the women turned to him.

“You’re not ready,” Kuro said.

“Not even remotely,” Shiro said.

At that, Mercury tilted his head. “Why not?” he asked.

Softly, Shiro smiled. She even reached out to ruffle his hair, but Mercury pulled back. “You’re too soft,” she said.

“Too fluffy,” Kuro added.

“Too well-kempt.”

“Fire and ice are messy, y’know?” the woman in black asked, tilting her head and pouting, her raven hair covering her face. “And, at the end, you’re not a disciple of our peak. Why should we teach you anything?”

Mercury blinked. Then, with a soft sigh, he turned to Chung Nam-Cheong, the youngest and, apparently, most sane person in the room. “Please just tell me how to make them teach me.”

Shrinking slightly under everyone’s gaze, the young man kind of just shrugged. “Well,” he said. “The peak masters usually only teach disciples of their peaks when they have provided suitable contributions to the cult. That way we earn merits and can buy techniques. To get taught by the masters is expensive.”

“Some make exceptions for monsters or prodigies,” Gun-Byeong said, pointing at himself. “Like me. But a hidden expert? Most likely you’re here to steal from us, learn everything here, and never give anything back.”

“I’ve repaired two of your peaks?” Mercury said hopefully.

Gun-Byeong’s smug expression faded into a faintly surprised one as he locked eyes with Kuro and Shiro. “Well, dang,” he said. “You… have a point.”

“With that, we can grant you access to our library,” Shiro said.

“But no more. It is far from enough from personal tutoring,” Kuro added. Both turned their faces away haughtily.

Mercury sighed, then nodded. “What does it take to become a disciple of your peak?” he asked.

“You must awaken your fire and ice meridians.”

“Meditate at the peak of a volcano for a month. And at the depths of an icy cave for another.”

Mercury held up his hands, triggered <Magic>, and summoned a fireball in one and an icicle in the other. “Is this enough to qualify?”

Both women stared. Then, very slowly, they nodded. 

“Awesome,” Mercury said. “Now, how do I earn merits?”

“Butcher those righteous dogs-”

Raising a hand to stop them, he added another stipulation. “Without murdering anyone.”

- - -

“Really?” Mercury asked, looking at the pile of rubble in front of him.

“Really,” Kuro confirmed, hands on her waist. 

Sighing softly, the mopaaw walked forwards. “And this is valuable?”

“Few disciples of the cult wish to master construction techniques. It’s all poisons this, parasites that, no respect for a bit of building,” Gun-Byeong said, waving his hand. “The youth of today has no respect for labour.”

Shiro gave him a cold glare. “You’re one to talk, bastard. The only thing you’ve ever done with a piece of lumber is smash it in half. How many bricks would it take to crack your skull?”

At that, the beastly man just grinned smugly. “All of them,” he replied confidently, while Mercury walked up to the piece of rubble.

The demonic cult, apparently, paid out contribution for people who built housing. They needed a lot of it because of their penchant for taking in orphans or disabled people, discarded by the rest of the martial world. This was the last refuge of the desolate - and the Valley of Balance held a special importance even in this place.

It’s where the cultists who swore off killing went. 

Retired elders who could not go on outside missions, because the righteous sects would hunt them down. Kids too young or too afraid to be sent on butchery. Pregnant people. All of those were likely to stay in the Valley of Balance.

Mercury laid his hand on the pile of rubble, and hummed. <Magic> hummed to life in combination with <Woodworking> and <Magical Metallurgy>, and the debris stirred.  Lumber rose, stone shifted into a foundation, pillars embedded themselves, made to float by their own will and a myriad of ghostly hands. Mercury split his manifold mind, and slowly set things into place.

Eyes snapped to the self-assembling house. “Dang,” Shiro said. “That’s nice.” 

“What’s so impressive?” Mercury asked, but the peak masters were already bickering again. In fact, within seconds, it looked like they were just about to come to blows. It was, frankly, stunning that they hadn’t tried to kill each other yet. So, in lieu of the very-powerful very-unwise people, Mercury turned his head to Chung, the young disciple of the cult.

“Ah, right. Constructing buildings usually takes many cultivators. Earth, wood, and metal affinities, to say the least of it. That’s not to mention more exotic materials like paper or glass. And while metal may be optional for construction, it is necessary for tools used by people who live in them,” the young man explained. “That makes any kind of housing a job suitable for multiple people.”

Mh. So him doing it by himself, with very little trouble, was probably odd. Still, it… really wasn’t too much trouble for him.

[<Novice Woodworking> has levelled up! <Novice Woodworking lv. 2 -> 4>]

Usually, he would have preferred to level up the Skill the traditional way. Using simple tools, learning to shape his rijn into saws and planes, working boards and construction lumber, using chisels and doing it honestly. This was… well, cheating.

He asked two pieces of wood to combine, and they would. New grain would grow from dead wood, already perfectly dry. The fibers would interweave as if they’d grown that way - because they did. He was able to command the wood into arches, and make joints entirely unnecessary. Things just combined, and the wood flowed like water.

So did the stone. When the foundation was done, it formed into tiles by itself. Metal was woven into a stove without a single swing of a hammer, the crystals simply climbing over each other to form it. He added a chimney, traditional heating, a few layers of stuff for insulation…

It was a crude house, because, frankly, Mercury didn’t know that much about how buildings worked, but it was a house. Liveable, warm, and stable. In all of… what, fifteen minutes? Maybe thirty.

Of course, his chest hurt a bit from the exercise, his ability strained, and he felt the world grow a little impatient with him. The elements would listen, of course, but usually, he was a little nicer about it. And he fed the world more mana.

Then again, all of his Titles about saving it and all did make it listen more. And he was using mana to supplant the raw reality-altering… There was a complex amount of interactions about what he was doing, and safe to say, he had a lot more juice in the tank, but not an infinite amount.

Okay, maybe a nearly infinite amount. Still.

“How many houses until you teach me?” Mercury asked.

Kuro looked at him and scoffed slightly, blowing her bangs out of her face. “Heh. You can buy our time. For a single house, we shall teach you for… half a minute. We are very busy, you see?” she said.

Looking at her, just standing there, staring at him, he doubted that last statement. “Very busy, huh,” he deadpanned.

Chung elbowed him, telling him to shut up. But then, Gun-Byeong laughed and stroked his chin. “Well, well, I did always wonder how it was that we martial artists are always busy, yet have time to go into secluded cultivation for years. It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“How would a worthless brute like you know?” Shiro said with a scoff and a shake of her head. Then, sighing loudly, Gun-Byeong nodded.

“I will punch you in the head, Shiro.”

“I’d like to see you tr-”

With a thunderous crack, the barbarian’s fist smashed into the woman’s nose, sending her flying. In half a breath she’d crashed through the house Mercury had just made and three more, reducing the flimsy buildings to rubble. A heartbeat passed as Mercury watched his just completed work crumble to dust, before the woman, clad in now-stained white clothing rose from a crater.

A nosebleed covered her face, staining her pristine skin, but she was otherwise unharmed. In a rough gesture, she rubbed her nose, wiping away the blood. “Oh, you’ve done it now you fucker.”

Then, Mercury stepped between them. “You will not break the houses I build,” he said softly.

Shiro frowned. “I broke nothing.”

Gun-Byeong grinned. “Yeah you did. You just crashed through that place, didn’t you see?”

“Stop provoking each other,” Mercury said with a frown. “Gun-Byeong, I allowed you to come along because you promised to be civil.”

The beastly man tilted his head, a curious frown on his lips and his arms crossed. “Or what? Might makes right, old man.”

Shiro frowned even more. “Get out of my way. I will get revenge on this brute.”

Mercury looked between the two. A giant of a man, covered in scars, on one side, and a frail, angelic woman on the other. Both radiating terrifying killing intent, one like staring into a lion’s maw, and the other crackling like an avalanche about to break.

“Neither of you are fighting,” Mercury said calmly. 

A moment passed. Tension rose. And then, the first to move… was Mercury. And the first to hurt was Kuro.

<Tapestry> had warned the mopaaw of what would happen. He’d seen Kuro bend her knees before she even did it, he’d seen her fury at Gun-Byeong grow as he attacked her lover. And Mercury was so, so sick and tired of this. 

With a contemptuous motion, the Dream of Starvation grew in mass. From being a set of pants, the liquid climbed up his arm, to his fingertips, forming into a vicious set of claws. Mercury coated them in <Weapon Intent>, a pale white aura that would enhance the attack. And then, he swung.

He <Carved>.

Kuro moved, feeling the attack coming. She dodged to the side, leaping through the air. But it didn’t matter. <Carve> cut through connections. Mercury knew her name, and that was enough to put her in his range. In a moment, he cut off the qi to her legs.

No blood flowed, but her technique was destroyed before it even took shape. Her movement cut off. Instead of a graceful landing, the woman tumbled across the dirt - entirely unharmed, since her skin was far too tough.

A moment later, Gun-Byeong was in front of her, already swinging his fist. Mercury moved again. <Carved> again. 

His attack should have bounced off the man’s thick skin, but that wasn’t really a defense Mercury minded. No, he cut right inside the arm. His strike hit a few tendons at the same time, and in the end, Gun-Byeong’s arm simple didn’t extend. Instead, it fell limply to his side.

“Huh?” the man asked, confused. There had been no pain - the injury was minor to someone like him. But his arm didn’t obey anymore.

Instantly, Shiro went to capitalize. A frigid blizzard rose around her, but Mercury simply looked over. His <Grief> slithered across the floor, and her blizzard froze. The snow turned heavy and metallic, simply falling to the ground in a thick sheet, wrapping around her feet. 

“The fuck?” Shiro asked quietly, as Mercury gave her a sad look. Then he shrugged.

“See?” he asked. “No one’s hurt.”

It was technically true since Gun-Byeong’s tendons had already regrown. At best, he’d be a bit sore. The Dream of Starvation did have that effect where it could give people nightmares, suck the nutrients from their flesh, and make wounds harder to heal… but Mercury suppressed that. Instead, he just let the hungry weapon drink a little bit of the peak master’s blood, hoping that’d satisfy it. It did.

“What in the blazing hells was that?” Gun-Byeong asked, shaking out his arm in disbelief. He stared at Mercury in confusion. “I didn’t even see your attack!”

“Ah, that’s cuz I cut through the internals of your body.”

“Those are tempered, too. My muscles are like steel!” he complained.

Mercury just shrugged. “Steel’s not that hard,” he said. Gun-Byeong just stared in disbelief, but Mercury thought the man was giving himself too little credit. He’d cut down the steel emissaries of Wrath, and Gun-Byeong’s flesh was tougher than those. An impressive feat to be sure, but no longer enough.

“What did you do to my ice!?” Shiro demanded, quickly walking up to him, clumps of molten metal still clinging to her boots.

Again, Mercury responded simply. “I made it so sad it didn’t wanna listen anymore.” As silly as it sounded, that kind of was what <Grief> did. Break apart and assimilate. The snow got infected, and turned into the ability’s signature liquid metal. And it fell. 

“That’s stupid,” the woman protested, helping Kuro off the ground. 

Mercury gave a soft nod. “It is,” he said solemnly. “You’re welcome to be angry at me. But don’t break the houses I make.”

“Ugh, fine,” Shiro said, looking to the side.

Gun-Byeong just shrugged. “Alright, fair enough,” he said. “Don’t get yourself all worked up.”

The easy disregard made Mercury give the giant an iron stare. “If you need to punch something,” he said. “Punch me. Simple as.”

“Alright,” Gun-Byeong said.

Apparently, to him, it was quite simple. In a quick, intense moment, his fist shot out and slammed into Mercury’s face. 

Of course, there was some resistance. Mercury was really rather tough, especially with <Tempered Body>, but he wasn’t that tough. Not as tough as the master of Slaughter. Knuckles broke bone, and Mercury’s face exploded into a splinter of the ice and wood it was truly made from. 

Gun-Byeong stared as the person in front of him came apart in what probably looked like a spray of gore, hidden away by <Veil> and <Lie>. But Mercury was not so fragile. In <Assimilate>’s pocket dimension, he’d grown a bunch of flesh already. He could easily regrow his own head. But he didn’t.

Instead, he kneeled down, reached into the earth, and withdrew a lump of wet dirt. Clay. With a slow, deliberate motion, he faced Gun-Byeong, then <Assimilated> the material. Tendrils of his magic wove throughout it, integrating it into his body. The clay wriggled under the control the skill gave him, soon shaping itself into another image of his face. A beard grew from soil, skin turning paler by the second. His hair turned silver and light enough to dance in the wind.

A dozen seconds passed, and Mercury looked fine again. His robes were intact, his pants unstained, and he looked at Gun-Byeong.

“What the fuck,” the peak master said.

Mercury tilted his head. “Punch me again,” he said. Gun-Byeong hesitated, so Mercury reached out, grabbed the man’s hand, and placed it right up against his nose. “Come on,” he said. “Punch me again.”

The peak master frowned at that. Being so easily brushed off was unusual. Shiro, Kuro and Chung just stared at the unfolding events. 

Slowly, Gun-Byeong drew a breath. The veins on his body bulged. Origin qi suffused his motions. “I’ll leave you in a pulp, dogly disciple,” he said with an odd, chilling calm.

Smiling faintly, Mercury nodded. Gun-Byeong punched. Mercury brought up a palm to catch the strike.

His palm was turned into shrapnel.

Wood and ice splintered. Liquid light streamed like blood. Mercury bled iridescent rainbows as inch by inch of his arm was annihilated. The punch landed square on his face again, taking a good chunk of his upper body with it.

[<Tempered Body> has levelled up! <Tempered Body lv. 6 -> 7>]

Mercury staggered for a moment. It has gotten dangerously close to wiping out his heart. That wouldn’t have killed him, of course, but it would definitely have sucked. He was rebuilding his brain here, but his mind was far too vast to be contained by just that organ.

So, with calm motions, Mercury cast some <Magic>. Ice sprouted from his wounds, and threads of magic wove through them.

[<Resolution> has levelled up! <Resolution lv. 2 -> 3>]

Threads of himself appeared from nowhere, brought into existence purely by Mercury’s mind. He was like… a self-sustaining dream. As long as he believed to be, he was slowly restored to perfection. And, in this case, with <Assimilation>, it wasn’t very slow at all.

Ice and stone filled the gaps. Lumps of clay rose from the ground, splattering against his arm, building out rough shapes. The Storm’s Raiment surged forward, covering his skin even as the sunlight tried to scorch it. He hid himself beneath a dozen layers of diffuse smog, and when his head was finished healing, he simply reached into his inventory and put his veil back on.

“Are you quite done?” he asked Gun-Byeong.

The guild master just stared at him, blinking. “What the fuck.”

Chung Nam-Cheong looked shaken. “What kind of monster are you?”

Mercury chuckled softly. “To be called a monster by the Cult of Infernal Flames…” He shook his head wistfully. “That must be some kind of twisted compliment, right?”

“It’s not,” Kuro said, her face crinkled with disgust. “What even are you?”

“A sorcerer,” he said simply, as if it explained everything. “Someone who clings to life very much. Someone who’d love to learn from you all, and would loathe to hurt you. I let Gun-Byeong punch me, instead of hurting him, too.” Mercury said all those words with a faint smile. 

“Now, if you’d let me get back to work? And please, don’t smash any more buildings. I’ll happily repair them and get my merits, so I can learn. Your arts seem rather impressive,” he said with a smile.

The three peak masters just stared at him, then averted their eyes. All at once, they decided to just let him work.

And so, Mercury made even the Cult of Infernal Flames a slightly better place. House after house sprouted up, like crocuses in spring. And at the end, he finally got to learn a little bit of cultivation.

Magic Breaker Ch 67-69

Chapter 67: Performing Plotted Plans Splendiferously

Somehow, Thatch charms our way through the gates. He really is unfairly handsome. So much so, apparently, that it even works on other species. 

Having Norman with us helps.

It’s really funny how his skill works. [Unassuming] is largely passive, but he can absolutely feed it with mana, though there are diminishing returns. The skill cloaks its own usage, spreads out over the whole party, and makes us seem… ordinary.

Unlike something flashy like invisibility, which might make you obvious once spotted, his skill is gentle. I’d call it insidious. But I mimic it just a little, [Suppressing] our “presence” as best as I can. It helps with the pain of a too-full vessel in my chest. I should look into that, too, someday. Maybe. Probably.

But with the two of us working together, and the fact that Thatch is unreasonably charming, we make our way past the gates and into the city proper. We don’t have directions, but all it takes to get them is asking a local a quick question. 

In the end, making our way to the mansion doesn’t take very long. The city’s noisy, but I bear with it. Hopefully my headphones will be fixed soon. Since it’s an undercover mission I can’t even steal any from the humans walking around - not that many of them are carrying headphones. A tragedy.

Maybe I should get some kind of dimensional storage, just to tuck them away, so they don’t get damaged in a fight… Another project to tuck onto the list. I focus on the moment, creating more tethers with [Selection] and increasing my focus on [Suppression] a bit, just to deal with my mana, pouring into my vessel as it regenerates.

When we’re in front of the manor, I’m in danger of zoning out again, thinking of where it comes from, when it’s finally time to put on a performance.

“I’m Lapis,” Opal says at the door. The guard raises an eyebrow.

“I see your name on the list,” the sumeen says, long limbs trailing along a clipboard. “But I don’t see you being registered as bringing a whole climbing party,” she notes with displeasure.

Opal gives a charming smile. “Really now? The baron did say me and my party.”

“Are you the leader then?” she asks.

They shrug, giving a so-so gesture. “I’d say it’s more my buddy’s party,” they say, gesturing at me.

“I assure you, I am the mascot,” I deadpan. 

The guard gives us a look, then a sigh. “Buncha clowns. Alright, head on inside. Seems like the kinda shenanigans the baron would like, anyway. Won’t have my hide for it, either. Don’t cause trouble.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Thatch lies elegantly, and we stride in through the opulent curtains.

It’s a ballroom. There must be some kind of silencing enchantment on the walls, because as soon as we’re inside, the noise hits me like a physical smack. There are dozens of people mingling. Sumeen, tall and faceless, towering over the other attendees. Scithian, their crystal wings folded, often wearing dresses decorated with gems of matching colours. Zoof, the furballs, decked out in elegant top hats and monocles, looking just a little ridiculous, but greatly adorable.

They mingle, they dance, there is a band with string instruments I can’t recognize and a singer whose mana has his voice echo across the entire room. I lock eyes with him, giving him a look that pleads for a little more quiet. He shoots me a salacious look in reply and the tones speed up and get a little louder.

Wulven are more rare, but some are present. Their warrior culture likely lends itself well to earning fame on this floor, and one almost dances into me, when Inu quickly steps between us, bouncing the wolf back into the dancefloor. It’s bright, light spilling from a dozen gaudy chandeliers.

“I hate parties,” I mumble. Then I look over, and Opal is already dancing with a handsome guy, and Thatch has a prince and princess fight over him. Sylves floats, dancing in the air with a dozen gazes on her, and Norman stands in the door, shellshocked, but somehow, no one walks into him, unassuming as he is. Which leaves me and Inu.

“They’re rather noisy,” she says, sharing my grimace. “Emotions are… high.”

Ah, that must be unpleasant. I gently reach out with my magic and [Suppress] her skill, just a bit, seeing her take a breath of relief. She could regulate it herself, but that’s harder than for me to just use the tether of [Selection] that’s already there. 

I let the others do their thing. It’s a party, after all, they’re meant to have fun. Instead, I look at the walls, [Selecting] them, or trying to. My skill actually slips off, the enchantments rejecting the mana so that I can’t figure them out as easily.

With this cruel fate, I resign myself to my life at the snack buffet. Tragic. Enduring noise and light and the occasional person bumping into me. It’s horrible. The worst part is the smell of alcohol.

Somehow, the culture of mildly poisoning oneself is apparently universal. Monkeys and elephants do it by chewing rotten fruit, and I am entirely convinced that dolphins would get drunk if they could. The people here do, too. And it’s despicable.

I try to take a deep breath, but the smell is overpowering. Should have brought sunglasses, damn it. I lean more on [Suppression], making the noise quieter, and my eyes worse, and dulling my sensation of touch and smell. In a moment, the word grows duller, darker. It lets me breathe a little more easily, goosebumps crawling across my skin as I pick out a slice of fruit-smelling cake to eat.

“Dang,” someone says, sauntering up next to me. It’s a scithian, their face handsome. They lean against the bar, giving me a confident, easy smile in the way that only flirty extroverts usually can. He has tan skin, yellow eyes, and white hair. “Didn’t think I’d meet someone I’d call gorgeous here. Your hair’s awesome.”

“It’s dyed,” I reply calmly. By now, my roots should be poking out just a bit again, contrasting against the silver of the dye. 

“Even cooler. Can I touch it?” they reach out.

“No,” I say.

Their hand freezes midair, and they start looking at me. I stare them down. They smile. “I like the fire in your eyes. They suit your hair.”

I just stare. My eyes are dark, almost black. “Anything else you wanna compliment?” I deadpan.

“Yeah,” they say, smile widening some more. “I like your freckles, too.” 

“Do you always stare at new people?” I ask. My own voice sounds dull in my ears, the sound [Suppressed]. I like it. It’s like I’m underwater. Everything is a little more bearable.

“Only the cute ones,” they wink. “Or pretty. Or beautiful. Or handsome. Or gorgeous. Pick whichever word you like best.” Another smile.

I nod. “Right,” I say. Then, I scan the room, seeing if Inu can help me out, but she’s busy. Sylves is already entangled with the church of Respitia. There are a few of them in attendance, mostly recognizable by their fancy clothes. She’s handing them drinks and snacks. They’re practically eating out of her hand.

Opal is engaged with the baron. Thatch is basically entangled in a social war. Inu is in the process of bugging another paladin from the church. We’re playing our cards, slowly but surely. I’ll have to do my part when they’re a bit more distracted.

None of them have time for me. Out of all people, it’s Norman who comes to my aid.

He saunters up next to me, and I feel [Unassuming] slowly take hold. The flirtatious scithian seems almost confused as the skill goes into effect, blinking at me. “Heya. You good, kid?” he addresses them. “Looks like you had a little much to drink.”

The scithian hums, wings flickering behind their back. “Yeah,” they hum. “Things are a bit… blurry.”

Norman smiles politely. “C’mon, let’s find you a place to sit down.”

“Ah, I was talking to…” they pause.

Inu’s dad laughs in an amicable, customer service way. “If you didn’t even catch a name, surely it’s not that important.” Then, in a quick swoop, he grabs them, and softly leads them to a bit of the seating area. 

I use my chance to slink even further into a dark corner. People mill about, moving, dancing, laughing, drinking, celebrating. I try to find something, anything to occupy me, and it all comes back to mana. Gingerly, I take out the maze, sitting down on the floor in a corner. I [Select] it, letting the world blur just a little, mostly bleeding away, except for the sensations I get from my other tethers.

And then, I practice. Bit by bit, step by step, I guide and twist my mana through the cube focusing on my heartbeat, the rhythmic pulsing of my vessel as my mana refills and filters into the training aid. I hold the shapes in my mind, little exercises of focus, and guide it along.

Slowly, minutes pass, and things become more bearable. I adjust. My skills aren’t a replacement for my headphones or my sunglasses. They’ll never be. But they help. 

Someone sits across from me.

He doesn’t talk or reach out. Just a blurry figure, one that doesn’t move. Just sits.

I spend a dozen more minutes with the maze, then lock my mana in place and look up. It’s a zoof, fluffy fur on full display, legs crossed beneath him. His eyes are big, focused on the maze. I tilt my head. 

“You should twist the mana,” he says. “That way it bends around corners better.”

Hm. I try to follow the advice, and promptly splinter the mana-thread I had going on, cracking apart it into bits of crystal. Still, a small smile spreads on my face. “That makes sense,” I say. It fits with the patterns that I’ve seen in skills. “How do I get it not to fragment?”

He smiles, bright, wide, and silly. “No idea!” he says. “How do you get it so thin?”

“Compression,” I reply. “If I just pour it in as is, it’s too thin. So I solidify it into crystal-things.”

“Oh, can that be used to store it?” he asks.

“To some degree,” I nod, making a small, floating orb of mana, and gently floating it over to him.

An arm appears from the fluff, and he taps a sharp nail against the orb, making it ring a little. “How bizarre,” he hums. “This is how I do it.”

Mana pours from his vessel, twisting in on itself as a wave of power turns into a drop of liquid. I tap its surface, and it ripples, tingling against my finger. It’s so clear to my mana sense, but a lot less solid than what I can make. In return, it’s a lot easier to shape.

“Huh. Curious,” I say. 

“I’m Leo.”

“I can’t tell you my name yet,” I reply.

“Why’s that?” he tilts his head.

A small smile spreads on my face. “Cuz it’s trouble.”

He grins, conspiratorially. “I don’t mind trouble.”

Slowly, I bring a finger to my lip, indicating silence. “You’ll figure it out when things go down, I’m sure.”

“Things will go down?” he whispers excitedly. 

“Oh, for suresies,” I say. “No two ways about it.”

“Nice,” he nods. “Okay, mysterious stranger, let’s puzzle out this maze a bit more. I have a few more ideas…”

I listen as he talks. Somehow, he manages all the things people often struggle with. He’s not too close, not too loud, and not too boring. We talk about mana, and the time passes a little bit quicker. My mana skills improve, and Leo seems to have fun, too. No one else approaches the dark corner. I’d almost call it nice. Almost.

And then, it’s go-time.

- - -

My cue comes in the form of Sylves. She hovers above the crowds, easily coming over to find me. She sees Leo, and gives me a curious look. I shrug, slightly, and she mimes laughing, then quickly waves her hand in front of her neck, gesturing for me to cut off the conversation.

I sigh, faintly, getting to my feet. “Alright, Leo. I’ll have to cut this here. This was enlightening, but I unfortunately have duties to attend to,” I say.

The zoof seems entirely unbothered, smiling. “Got it! Won’t tell anyone about your secrets, either. See you!” he says, then scampers off.

Sylves touches down on the floor in front of me, brushing her dress to get it to look prim and proper again. She smiles. “I got most of them to eat fae food. Thatch has caught enough glimpses to figure out a few weaknesses, and Inu has planted seeds of dizziness and anger that’ll make them follow us. Norman kept it all hidden, and Opal was a good distraction. We’re set.”

“Run me through the targets,” I say.

She nods, serious. “Philia has guards. A handful of priests in robes. Low heart, high vessel, with channelling skills. A few warriors, enchanted swords and strength. They don’t have much in the way of rogue-types, or at least we spotted none.”

I nod.

“Opal and Thatch are taking the priests. Inu and I the warriors. Philia is all yours. Norman helps us disappear if there’s trouble. That’s the rough workings of it,” she says. “We’ve got our debuffs lined up, Snow. Things are set. I can’t wait,” she says, grinning sadistically. “Let’s show them.”

Slowly, I smile. “Yeah,” I say. “Let’s show them.”

Having my social battery reasonably recharged, my vessel so full it’s aching in my chest, and feeling ready as I’ll ever be, I step out into the crowd. Sensations blare all over me, but now that there’s a target, they’re tolerable. No aimless drifting, no pointless mingling.

No, my path is straightforward and direct. Opal has talked to the baron, I hope, because otherwise he might not be a fan of what’s about to happen. My friends will have taken care of the prep. They’re reliable like that. 

There’s just one thing I need to do.

Provoke a reaction.

“Hey, Philia!” I call out to the woman, yelling loudly enough it startles the other guests and cuts through the music. The woman turns to face me, confused. Her dark hair is long, going past her hips, even. She’s wearing a bit of resplendent armor, but it’s clearly not meant for fighting. It’s too ornate for that.

“I was just curious, if I have a healing skill, where do I-”

Instantly, she’s in front of me. A flash of light, and she’s right there. I feel afraid. My heart pumps blood through my veins. I can feel the adrenaline. The fight or flight response, the way mana flickers and I have to hold it back. It presses against my chest, straining to escape from my vessel and kill this woman.

But I breathe, recalling that yawning emptiness inside me. And it all fades away, drop by drop, in an instant. My face remains neutral, placid.

“A healing skill?” she asks. “A human with a healing skill?” Her eyes narrow. “Prove it.”

I smile, then create a thin needle of mana, stabbing it into my skin. Then, in front of her, I form the skill, threading the mana. In moments, my skin knits closed. Her eyes widen. “It’s true. You’ll have to come with me, immediately.” She emphasizes the urgency.

“Ahhhh, sorry,” I say, sharply drawing in breath between my teeth, leaning into the theatrics. “See, I think you’re a piece of fucking shit who tried to kill me before.” I pull back the half-cowl and my hair, revealing the patch of my skull. I see surprise, and then iron will spread across her face.

“Murderer,” she hisses.

“Yeah!” I yell, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “My name is Ion! I have a healing skill! I take absolutely no shit from your pissy church and your overbearing ruler! You can all fuck off. If you wanna stop me from healing people, then kill me.” I taunt.

It’s a bit overbearing, but that’s fine. I’m angry at them, genuinely angry, but the words hit home. I know they do, because…

[Respitia the Pure is disgusted by your outburst.]

[The Master of Suffering guffaws at her stunned sputtering.]

[The Embrace lingers curiously.]

Blinding light gathers in her hands, but I’m not dying here. Instantly, as she begins to cast, I use the new essence I’ve gained. [Deconstruction] destabilizes the spell, [Suppression] makes it take longer to activate, a tiny application of [Solidification] cuts through the burgeoning magic, until, all at once…

It breaks.

“My name is Ion! Remember it!” And with that, I throw a clumsy punch, that cracks right into her surprised nose, making my knuckles ache. 

Rage sets in for the paladin. “Fine then, rookie,” she snarls. “You insult my goddess. You insult me. Then die.”

I laugh, and then start running as fast as I can.

Chapter 68: Bait

The crowd parts immediately, and chaos erupts within moments. Opal already gutted one priest, and Thatch stabbed another one with a sharp breadknife. Inu slips between me and the paladin, tackling her with brutal momentum, and slamming a whole slew of disorientation against the woman’s mind.

When Philia blinks the dizziness away, I’m already out the door, throwing a handful of mana-darts at her as a gift. They shatter against her armor, but one breaks skin, sending her own magic into disarray, though I don’t stick around to find out.

One of the priests chants a spell, but I shatter it, and an arrow from an archer harmlessly bounces off Inu’s chestplate, barely staggering her. When we dart around corners, we become [Unassuming], and I [Suppress] any detection ability thrown our way. 

We stick as a slippery group at the edge of their awareness. They try to encircle us, but Thatch finds them ahead of time, seeing them through buildings. They send archers, but Opal teleports and stabs them. Levels can only do so much against a sword through the gut.

A few times, the priests stop to cast healing spells, sometimes flapping crystal wings, or scaling mushroom buildings on dark claws. Wounds mend behind us, so only about half the people we attack die.

Somehow, Opal’s death toll is lower than Thatch’s. Whenever the handsome fighter gets his fists on someone, they break. It’s brutal, violence channelled into gallant fists, and his face doesn’t even seem angry anymore. The red rage doesn’t tint his skin, just flows with direct purpose. He’s perfectly calm as he caves a scithian’s face in.

Whenever the pursuers come to close, Sylves will invoke the fairy rites, making their muscles seize up. They collapse to the floor like puppets with their strings cut. Yet, through it all, Philia is relentless. She chases, flapping her crystalline, light-woven wings, disappears and reappears in bursts of brightness. She’s high level, but I’m mentally marking down her skills.

Some kind of light based movement, the pillar she’s used before, and some kind of heal, I’m sure. That’s three. She almost certainly has more. 

I grin. Only a matter of time until I tear them apart.

A new flash of light, and a small beam burns and tears through my shoulder. I quickly heal the wound, though the lingering heat licking at my insides makes it hard. Luckily, I can still run. Inu shifts to be behind me, probably relying on some class skill to defend me better. 

We sail through a market stall, tossing crates behind us, and crowds part in front of us. Sylves, especially, uses wind to knock plenty of obstacles in the way of our numerous pursuers.

The paladins hack through wood and mushroom, glass and metal, stomp past confused people and wasted food. They contend with pain, dizziness, rage, my [Suppression]. None of their skills work properly, and a half dozen debuffs bore into them. Thatch channels his [Rage] into his [Piercing Gaze], turning the ocular ability more dangerous, too.

With all these advantages, we make it to the tunnels. We scramble, we hop, we duck and dive in a strange confusion. Philia is right on our heels the entire time, blinking as light. A radiant sword manifests in her hands, and she swings it - only for the resplendent beam to strike against a pane of liquid mana, harmlessly diffusing.

A scream of rage tears from the woman, and I laugh, loudly, infuriating her more. Then, I quiet down, and focus on running. We’re at the gates when she catches up again, the city guards attempting to stop us. 

Opal grins, happily, as they reveal another one of the lovely secrets we’ve prepared. With a quick movement, they pull a bomb from their pockets, push mana into it, and toss it at the paladin. Another bomb sails at the guards, who very quickly decide not to get involved.

Then we’re out, and in the tunnels. We toss another bomb, and Norman conjures up a few [Protective] barriers that Philia smacks into. One is deviously placed at head height, and while it fragments, I cannot imagine it feeling pleasant. Light envelops her, healing her wounds, but we’re already around the corner, then.

All at once, we jump, sailing high through the air and easily clearing a part of the floor that is thin and weak. Philia, crossing the corner a moment after us, steps down heavily.

The sabotaged sheet of brittle stone breaks under the weight, and she is forced to waste more mana by stopping her fall via a teleportation. Inu uses that moment to send another spike of dizziness and pain her way, and the ground under her legs shifts as the ants start helping.

A few of them are magically skilled at manipulating rocks, and are now putting that talent to work, destabilizing the paladin’s footing, slowing her down some more. Enough for us to reach the first branch, where we started truly trapping things. People split off into different directions now, and I lead Philia along with me, showing up just long enough to give her a middle finger.

She roars in anger, chasing after me - right into a tripwire spun from Amelie’s most durable thread. She stumbles, for just a second, and I send a needle of mana her way. That blazing sword manifests again, deflecting it, when the ceiling above her opens up and a torrent of rocks pours down. 

Another teleport of light. I throw a half-hearted [Deconstruction] at it, disassembling the remains of the abilities after it’s over. It clicks into place, but not quite enough. More running.

Amelie has puppets, placed in nooks in the rocks, that stumble out to hack and stab at Philia. A bolt of light suddenly shoots my way, but gets entirely swallowed up by Kuro’s darkness, my shadow wrapping up to eat it.

“You even have the power of darkness!” Philia yells. “Of course a parasite like you would reject Respitia’s glorious touch!”

I grimace. “Does your goddess often try to gloriously touch strangers? That’s kinda gross,” I reply easily, ducking my head under another tripwire. 

When Philia tries to reply, she’s drowned out by the screech of metal, as spikes drive up from the rocks floor. She leaps over them. In the middle of the air, I toss a bomb at her, forcing her to teleport. 

Again, I pick at the edges of the skill, analysing, learning, profiling. I have her radiant sword selected, feeding information from it, too. Another puppet traps her, and then, we’re finally deep enough.

I take one more turn, and come face to face with Elis. 

The warrior ant is titanic, confidently taking up the tunnel, and decked out. Her entire body is covered in armor, densely filled with the simple inscriptions I could manage. It glows, drawing in mana in a torrent. Philia’s eyes widen as she sees the insect.

“Oh my,” I tease. “Looks like it’s finally dawning on you. You fucked up.”

Elis charges.

Chapter 69: Tunnels and Traps

“You are a rat! A worthless parasite!” Philia curses, blinking upwards and dragging her glowing sword across the metal armor of Elis. How silly. Rats are cute.

I [Suppress] the weapon a bit, not too eager to fully test the durability of what Bay and me made. Amelie’s strings hold amicably, and the gambeson that Sylves helped tailor keeps the armor on the ant, even as the warrior’s charge misses.

Emotions of adrenaline course through our bond, and Elis activates a first skill. Instantly, Philia crashed to the ground, suddenly far faster, forcing her to blink again. I pick at the residue of the skill, stealing more data. 

The paladin breaks into a roll, only for the stone under her feet to give out again as Elis activates another skill. Her job is that of a builder, granting her [Stoneshaping], as I learnt, which makes a great fighting skill in the tunnels. First, Philia just stumbles, then another trap activates. Puppets pour down from above, centipedes kept together by writhing strings, biting at the paladin.

Her healing skill burns the venom from her limbs, only a few attacks making it through, but she’s forced to teleport in a ray of light again. This time, I pick at the skill as she’s in the middle of it, just enough for her to hopefully not notice, focused on the car-sized ant as she should be.

Elis activates one of her class skills, [War Cry], and a rather simple effect takes place. Philia, for just a moment, screams in rage, charging at the ant. I use my chance to elegantly throw a needle into her ankle, sending her stumbling.

The ant’s mandibles glow with a violent red light as another class skill activates. They connect with Philia’s midsection, and I hear the armor crumpling as the paladin is sent, with force, into the stone ceiling.

I hear cracks, both bones and rock, and then snaps as her mana rouses. For the first time, it feels like she’s serious, a torrent of power flooding her already strong body, and with a pop, her bones are back in place. I grin, maniacally.

“Hey Elis?”

My warrior-ant buddy focuses on me, chittering.

“You can run off. I’ll take it from here.”

She hesitates, seemingly… worried? I frown. “Go! Take care of other problems already!”

At my harsh tone, she does as I ask. Maybe I could have been kinder with it, but I feel adrenaline pumping through my veins. Mana surges in my chest. Philia takes a step… and I run the fuck away.

I’m not an idiot. Until I’ve worn out my resources, I’ll run like the tunnel rat I am. A grin spreads on my face, as I take off again, leaving the angrily growling holy woman behind me. She charges, of course, but she is far from built for speed, and the trickle of [Suppression] I cast with my regenerating mana is enough for me to stay just ahead.

That, and the traps. I don’t hesitate to abuse my advantages. Bombs. Ambushes. Tripwires, spikes of stone, wooden arrows shot from holes in the walls by members of the colony behind it. Bits of metal and steel dig into her, and I see her discard crumpled pieces of metal in her wake. 

“Now for my final piece!” I yell at her between deep breaths as I sprint through the tunnels. “I bring you… bees!!”

The hallways suddenly open up into a massive cavern. In the very middle of it hangs exactly what I promise. A large hive of bees. There are large flowers, fed by glowing light from mushrooms, their pollen being harvested by bees the size of my fist.

Now, why did I think bringing her here was a good idea, when I clearly am entering the area first?

These bees are attracted to light.

As soon as Philia comes in, she stumbles on a tripwire and teleports to catch herself, transforming into a billowing cloud of radiance. I don’t suppress it at all, letting her and her sword shine brightly, and dozens of insects instantly turn their compound eyes to her.

Meanwhile, me? I let Kuro wrap around me, fading into the shadows of the room, watching on. 

“How did a horrid monster like you get a healing skill?!” the paladin roars between slashes of her blazing sword. I see her swing it, bringing devastation to many members of the hive as the radiance burns them. Smoke billows, attracting more buzzing excitement.

Still, she races me across the cavern. By now, though, I can easily outpace her, since I’m not constantly being hounded by insects and their stingers. Whenever she gets a little too comfy, I throw a bomb at her - specially made ones that release blazing flashes of light, almost like fireworks, attracting yet more bees until the entire cavern is a mess of buzzing and smoke.

More than a dozen stings have accumulated on the woman by now, some scraping against her armor, and yet more sinking into her skin. She burns with light, and I pull at the edges of her healing, too. Slowly, I find weaknesses, gaps, problematic points. I take my time in the shadows to watch and deconstruct and pick her apart - until she finally releases it.

A pillar of light crashes down on the middle of the hive, flooding the cavern with radiant incandescence. Kuro pulls back like a cat from water, and my skin blisters just from being close to it. Without hesitation, I dip into another tunnel - cleared, but not trapped, for a final standoff.

Philia follows me. 

Covered in radiance, the blood on her skin boils away. She pants, her steps heavy as she comes after me, holding that bright blade. She pulls a few finger-thick stingers from her stomach and throws them to the floor, the wounds knitting closed under bright white flames.

She leverages her sword at me, the bees not willing to follow us anymore. “Now you die, parasite.” 

“Dang, not even a single complaint about the bees? You’re no fun,” I pout. “Well. That’s okay, though. You don’t needa be fun. You need to be dead.” 

The words come out so calmly, entirely unlike the rest of my bravado that I see her brows furrow, crystalline wings fanning in wariness. “What was that?”

“I called your goddess an ugly harlot,” I say, forcing that cocky smile back on my face, and drawing a goblin knife that I wreathe in mana.

She roars, and charges at me. And, for the first time since the start of the chase, I meet her with the full force of my skills.

[Selection] snakes past the gaps in her few remaining pieces of armor, showing me her vulnerabilities. [Suppression] comes next, targeting every bit of her that is weak, that is a target. Her legs slow, no longer catching up with her body, and she almost tips forward, blinking again.

I pick at the skill one last time, at the fringes of its activation, and it clicks. I’ve got her pattern down.

A moment passes and I take a deep breath as I step back, creating solid, floating needles of mana around me. I wear no armor, no radiant blade. Just a jagged knife and a handful of thick needles, facing down someone two thresholds above me.

Philia roars, and charges. I catch her sword with my dagger, and her power is enough to almost break my wrist. She winds, aiming in, and I push to the side. My one hand stands no chance against the both of hers, until I [Suppress] the sword itself.

The flames fizzle, and suddenly incandescent heat is just a faint warmth to my heart-enhanced skin. I give her a brutal kick to the midsection, and it feels like kicking a rock wall. Her stats are balanced, so I probably have more vessel than her, but she’s strong. Really strong.

With a quick motion, the sword comes sailing at my head, and I jump back. She moves in to catch up. A needle drives itself into her ankle again, disrupting her jump. She blinks.

I grin.

For just a moment, her entire body turns to light. For just a moment, she attempts to shoot forward.

And then, all at once, I break her skill.

[Deconstruction 9 > 10]

[Class up! Nullmage 2 > 4]

Instead of blinking, Philia is sent sprawling on the floor, blood leaking from her eyes. She splutters, confused, as my needles dig into her, a half dozen at once stabbing into her stomach. She tries to heal, but her mana is in disarray, not even listening, so it’s child’s play to disrupt her spell.

I walk forward to the woman, now sprawled on the floor. She tries to blink again, away this time, and I shatter the spell, turning it into more of a pointless roll. Her sword lashes out at me, but I break it, too.

Radiance dissolves into bright-white sparks.

[Class up! Nullmage 4 > 5]

I smile at the points flooding into my vessel. I’ve proven to the tower that I’m better than her - and with the level gap, that deserves rewards. She tries to teleport one more time, but it fails. So, instead, she tries to heal. 

And it fails.

In a last resort, she starts casting the pillar of light again. The spell that so nearly killed me last time, but I just frown. “Stop that,” I say, [Suppressing] the activation to slow it down, then driving my solidified mana knife into her stomach.

Philia gasps in shock and pain. Her mana rages against mine, trying to purge the foreign substance, but I hold it in place, disrupting her casting of her skills. Her mana wars against mine, but…

[Solidification 7 > 8]

We were evenly matched at the start of the fight. She has a couple dozen points on me, sure. Maybe even as much as a hundred. But they’re spread. I can compete with her mana reservoir, and that’s what I do.

I beat her. She’s been teleporting, casting, healing, summoning… and I’ve just been running. Throwing bombs, having others activate traps for me, forcing her to fight a hive of bees. It’s simple attrition and maths.

My vessel is higher than hers.

Drop by drop, her mana leeches out, and she feebly tries to hit me with her physical strength, chained down by [Suppression]. I stab mana-needles through her arms, pinning them to the stone, shaping them like nails. 

“Scum,” she curses. “Trash. How dare you. You are killing not only me but everyone I would have healed. Everyone-”

“I don’t care,” I say plainly.

“Parasite!” she spits.

Slowly, I shrug. “Sure,” I say. “But at least I’m not a corpse.”

For a moment there, I’d considered sparing her. That she might beg for mercy. But she doesn’t. Her skills don’t work, her mana is in disarray, she cannot heal, and I have her beat in every way.

[Respitia the Pure offers a favour if you let her paladin go.]

I frown at the message. “Ugh. Bothersome. Your goddess is begging for mercy in your stead.”

“Spare me and I will kill you.”

“Okay, then I won’t,” I shrug. Her mana is gone. I pull the knife from her stomach and neatly slit her throat. Then I stab it through her eye into her brain for good measure, so she doesn’t have to suffer. 

Thus, with a quiet whimper and a spilling of blood, the messages start flooding in. 

Magic Breaker Ch 64-66

Chapter 64: Ichor

Yellow pustules burst and spill more ichor on the stone. Meg watches, wincing. Elis suffers. I watch, curiously. “These are super infected,” I note. The flesh all around the wound is infected, really, the bacteria boring into it. The ants are incredibly clean, really, but they do not have ways to fully sterilize things.

My work is cut out for me, but it’s a little fun. Could I use my healing spell offensively if I used it on the bacteria? I don’t try.

Instead, I hold my breath, casting it again. The flesh writes, wriggles, getting eaten away by the poison in the ant’s veins. Hmmm, how troublesome. What will I do about that?

Gently, [Suppression] flickers out. It latches onto the troubles with almost no effort. The ant in front of me is poisoned, sick, and infected. The fact that she’s hung on for so long is a testament to her endurance.

With the suppression in place, I cast another heal, making a little more progress, but that’s just burying infected flesh in new one. I shake my head gingerly. That won’t work. Pulling out the goblin knife, I coat it in mana, cutting away the bits I just healed.

Elis writhes a little, but Meg shushes her, running her antenna over the other ant’s head. 

There are a few ways for me to get rid of the infection and the poison. On one hand, I could just cut it out, then regenerate the ant after. But, looking at her decrepit state, I don’t think she’d survive that. The same thing goes for [Deconstruction]. The bacteria are kinda too small to target.

Troublesome, troublesome. I’ll have to adjust my healing spell to drive back the sickness in her.

Mana rushes into me from the core, and I pass it off to the ants again. With the entire colony supporting me, I have more than enough mana for my needs. I pour a bit of it into healing myself, fully closing up my arm and leg. Then I focus on Elis again.

“Get her some food, she’ll need it. This’ll be unpleasant,” I say, and after a chitter from Meg, a few caretakers rush to obey.

Elis looks at me like a dull piece of steel. Unbreaking, even in the face of all this. Strong. I smile, just a hint of one, then cast my “heal”.

It’s a barely recognizable, butchered version of it, even worse than the piece of shit I usually work with, and it will hurt her. I know that much, but I cast it anyway. 

The spell crashes into the wound, eating away at the desiccated flesh. It’s barely even healing anymore, spilling tainted ichor as the flesh decays away. Not quite right, I suppose. I reconstruct the pattern in my mind, half-cast it, then [Deconstruct] and analyze it. 

Then I cast another, new, improvised and modified piece-of-shit spell. 

Some flesh regrows, some of the disease disappears, but the new flesh has a complete lack of blood vessels, and so I cut it back out. I hold the construct for my spell in my mind, [Deconstruct] it, then make a new one. My mana runs low, and I pull more from the full core, passing it back to the colony. Blood trickles down my nose.

Cast. Fail. Retry.

Cast. Fail. Retry.

Cast. Fail. Retry.

[Flesh Restoration 6 > 7]

Cast. Fa- wait a second. That one did actually disintegrate a bit of the venom. It also melted more of the ant, but well. It happens. But it gives me something to work from. 

I analyze the skill again, looking at its intricacies and finding small bits that are causing trouble. I do, however, find one structure responsible for doing a little bit of dissolving the venom. A tiny, hair thin extension outside the main rings of brilliance, almost worm like, ready to eat into existing flesh and… replace it? 

Not quite, but it has a disintegration aspect, I’m sure. I cast the spell with more power, and indeed, channels dig into the poison like little worms, eating away and leaving clean flesh behind. Problem one, solved.

After two more cores full of mana, my eyes have started bleeding a little too, and I need to occasionally cast healing on myself. That’s okay, though, it’s working. Finally, the ant is looking a little healthier, and a bunch of the venom is gone.

Now, I just need to find out how to kill the bacteria and dessicated flesh. I work off of the venom-purging bit that is already there, and find that it resonates with the essence I got from picking <Nullmage> as my class.

I hum, a tiny bit, leaning into that essence. It taught me how to break magic, but given that ants have levels, even if they’re just in the decimals, bacteria does, too. Can I just… shatter their vessels? It would be a sweeping blow that wouldn’t hurt the ant but be mighty unpleasant for the infection.

A modification later, putting all my practice with the mana maze into the working, I cast it. 

[Skill Mutation.]

[Flesh Restoration 7 > Biological Restoration 3]

Mana pours out of me in a sudden torrent as the skill manifests, draining my entire vessel dry. 

It pulls from my skin, scraping against the limits of what I can do, demanding more as I drain the core. The taste of iron fills my mouth, and it feels like there are claws scraping across my bones. The world rings, the sound of nails on a chalkboard. 

And I cast. 

A torrent of power spills over the ant, scouring it. The twisted modification rips and tears, shattering all in its wake. It’s ruthlessly brutal, and as it touches Elis, she screams. Her flesh bubbles and boils. I hum a little, spitting blood to the side, and [Selecting] the ongoing spell, tearing it apart with [Deconstruction].

The flesh stops bubbling. It looks… better? Miserable, but better.

My legs give out under me and I fall face first on the stone. “Ah,” I sigh. How troublesome. “Can you refill the core again?” I ask Meg. I don’t see the hive queen respond, but I do feel the cool rock being gently pulled from my hands. Eventually it comes back, full of mana, enough to refill my vessel to about halfway.

I cast another enhanced heal on myself, letting me sit up, then I drag my fingers through my hair, pulling the white strands out of my face. They’re sweaty, and cling to me like spiderwebs. A soft sigh leaves my lips, and I look Elis over. She’s healed some more, with a chunk of the infection purged, but her flesh underneath looks almost burned. 

The disjointed bits of the spell and their purpose still sits in my mind. I pull at them, analyzing and learning as I go on. It’s curious, seeing the way they interact. I’m pretty sure I achieved what I set out to do, but the pattern was too crude to properly manage the power. It did a mix of disinfection by boiling, breaking magic, and some more troublesome things.

A thin smile spreads on my lips. “Sorry about that,” I tell the stoic warrior. Then I settled down, kneeling again, tracing the carapace. “Let me give it another shot.”

Even the stalwart warrior shivers a little at my declaration.

Chapter 65: Fearsome

[Biological Restoration 3 > 4]

My mutated skill is far more versatile and open to adaptation. It’s closer to the intricate perfection that the system imposes, and each cast gives me a headache, but that’s okay. I’ll learn. The structure is even more complex, demanding a ton of mana as I form it, but it’s also a lot more universal.

It adapts to the ant’s biology with ease, and new flesh grows easily, cells multiplying rapidly under the enhancement of mana. It’s curious, and I watch closely as the spell takes effect, letting the bad bits decay at the same rate as healthy biomass is produced. It works as an antibiotic and a probiotic at once, strengthening Elis’ immune system. The venom gets disintegrated as a foreign body, and her metabolism speeds up, letting her chew on a ton of food to fuel the regrowth.

A chunk of my mana directly helps as well, but she still needs calories. Maybe with more points in vessel I could fully supply all the energy needed for the healing, but that might require an extra module. 

But. Knowing about skill mutations is an exciting notion. As I routinely cast heals, getting my mana topped up by the entire colony, I think it over. I already know I can modify my skills, so it makes sense that when I cross a threshold they’d change. 

Until now, though, that change was reflected in levels. Levels that make them stronger, better, more efficient. This biological restoration takes far more mana to restore far less flesh, but at the same time, it is more complete. Worst case, I can still cast the old version. I was unsure if I could heal bones with that one, but now I definitely can. 

Does it work on plants? Fungi? More questions, and no answers. 

I hum to myself, watching as Elis feasts on more food. She looks healthier by the minute, and the caretakers are practically swarming us, observing my magic at work. Meg looks at me, chittering gratitude and happiness and at the same time a request to teach.

“No,” I say. “I don’t think any of your kids are gonna be suitable to learn the spell. I almost killed myself a handful of times while learning it.” Especially that first time looking at the spell was a wild ride. Thinking of it still gives me a headache, but I don’t wanna lose the memory.

That really oughta be my next project. A memory palace. Right after enchanting, freeform runic inscriptions to trace in the air, figuring out if chanting and incantations of hand sigils are a thing, as well as experimenting with my healing and magic breaking and learning more runes and… 

Okay, maybe I have a lot of projects. 

I sigh softly, getting up and stretching. The ant is knitting itself together, the effects of my spell apparently lingering for a longer while now. Elis chomps down on a ton of food, turning to me. A moment passes, and an antenna presses towards me, almost questioning.

Slowly, I tilt my head at it, then shrug and step forward. The antenna touches me on my forehead, and I feel that same bond as with the haughty ant that brought me to the colony spring into being. A wisp of connection that lets me feel what they think a little.

Elis is stronger, though, and catches a deeper glimpse of my emotions. 

She shivers. Afraid. Just like Dar did.

I smile, sadly. “Me too, buddy.”

But, despite the fear, she doesn’t shrink back. She looks at me and expresses gratitude and a sense of debt. I tilt my head a little. Is she asking me how to repay it? I wave my hand. “Don’t sweat it too much,” I say. “Your mom was just noisy about it.”

Elis tilts her head and clicks her mandibles in displeasure. Apparently she is still ‘sweating it’, though the expression doesn’t mean a whole lot to her. Which, reasonably, I could have expected. I sigh softly and tap her with my senses.

[Warrior Icon, lv. 32]

I hum, just a little. She’s strong. Really strong. I can tell she could’ve taken the cave crawler one on one. She has a class, probably a job, too, and a high supremacy level. Could I take her in a fight? How did she get so hurt?

She sends me images of an ambush by a great centipede and its minions. I hum again. The plan was always to take the ants into the city, right? Or to lure the paladins to them. If I can get Elis in on it… well. Let’s just say I don’t need it to be a fair fight.

Slowly, a vindictive smile creeps onto my face. 

“Alright,” I tell the warrior ant. “I got an idea…”

- - -

When Opal comes back, they find me with Bay in a room that is rather hot. Forges burn with tended fires, mushroom charcoal being fed to the flames. The ants, somehow, have industry. Most likely, a few of them even have blacksmithing jobs, giving them essence and knowledge about it.

Otherwise, I struggle to imagine how the colony managed to set up a smeltery and forging implements. The ants have tools, made to be used with their mandibles. Hammers that bend at odd angles, coatings to put over their mandibles, letting them press down into the metal like vices. 

And then, there are Bay and me, two humans, sitting around and helping. She’s made herself a couple crude tools, a hammer and a few wrenches, tinkering with smaller metal scrap, using skills to shape and form them. She’s making more bombs.

I get to work on them, too, applying some inscriptions. I draw them on with my fingers first, then manifest a stylus of solid mana, and trace them in. My runes are jagged. Big and clunky, way different from the almost-invisible work of the system. But they work.

Plates of metal turn more durable after being forged, mana coursing through them. We experiment with applying the runes first, then forging, but it kinda messes up the process. There is a small explosion or two, but none of us get too splattered with molten metal. 

Having the colony helping me is lovely, mainly because they’re like an infinite font of mana. I run through my vessel dozens of times over, enchanting and inscribing every piece of scrap they let me get my fingers on. My hands are stained black by dust and smoke, and I desperately need a bar of soap, but I [Suppress] the disgust.

Opal kneels down next to me, watching as I drag my stylus across a bomb, drawing whirls and jagged edges into the smooth sphere. “Whatcha working on?” they ask.

“Bombs,” I answer.

“Mmmh, very insightful,” they say. “I meant what you are contributing, dummy,” they tease.

I smile a little. “Mana shrapnel. I’m turning them into minor cores, making fuses obsolete. Jess helped me figure that out with her fire ability. The mana lights a small spark in the middle, then condenses into a crystalline shell. It’s gonna blow skill-dispelling shrapnel all over.”

[Inscription 6 > 7]

The echo knight gives me a low whistle at that. “Very cool,” they say. “Can you modify my sword?” 

“Probably,” I nod, “but I’d encourage you to see if there’s not some function of your skill already doing that. I’d wager there is.”

Opal nods. “Yeah. My heart makes it tougher, my power makes it sharper, and my vessel amplifies any skills cast through it. Also, it gets bigger, more malleable, as I level it. I’m pretty sure that with me being an echo knight, it’ll eventually let me manifest armor.”

“That’s awesome,” I say. “Opal, knight in shining armor, there to save all the princesses in the world.”

“Nah, just princes. And nonbinary children of monarchs. Princexes?” They think it over, then nod. “That works.”

“Of course, of course. Leave the princesses to fend for themselves, and…”

“And romance the dragon,” they nod, smiling. “Think there’s some kinda jewelwork profession?”

I nod. “For sure. Magic and gems always go hand in hand. I’d love to try inscribing something like an Opal,” I tease.

“Ohhhh, biological inscriptions. Like when you traced stuff on Sylves to heal her better. But permanent. Think we could do tattoos, rather than dragging that…” they point at my stylus, “thing through my skin.”

Maintaining a deadpan expression, I make grabbing motions towards them. “Nope,” I hum. “C’mere Opal, let me give you some scars. They’ll be magic. Trust me.”

My friend scrabbles back across the cavern floor. “Oh, nonono. Absolutely fucking not. You get that thing away from me.”

I laugh out loud, putting the grenade and stylus aside, and pull them into a quick, tiny hug. “We’ll figure out something cool for you, don’t worry,” I say. “I’m already working on making inscriptions just from mana. Amelie has been showing me her threads, and I’ve been trying to copy something similar.” I let them go, pulling back, having filled my need for touch for the next week. “Did your mission go well?”

Opal smiles, arrogantly. “Yeah. I caused trouble and we stole stuff. Thatch and Jess made it back?” 

“They did,” I confirm.

“Then all’s well. I got an invitation to some noble party. Think the paladin will be there?” they ask.

A smile spreads on my face, and widens. “Oh that’s devious. Yeah, they’ll be there alright. Churches never miss a chance to spread the good word. Let me fill you in on what the ants have planned.”

When I’m done, Opal grins, wide. “Oh hells yes. I love it. Let’s have Sylves make us some clothes so we’re ready to party, eh, Ion?”

I grin in return. “Let’s do just that.”

Chapter 66: Planning and Preparing

Eventually, after some talking, the entire party is filled in on the plan. Not everyone will be going to the party. I will be, despite everything. Bay stays behind at the colony, trying to fix my headphones, but her job in the fight is already done. She’ll be earning plenty of supremacy if we just use the weapons she made.

Jess is staying behind in the tunnels with Dar and Richard. Elis and the warrior-ants, now decked out in plates of metal, are preparing a few… welcome gifts. Amelie seems rather intrigued by the possibility of snapping a trap, and with her puppets, she can ideally bait other insects in. 

Over the next few days, as far as we can tell them passing by the changing glow of the mushrooms, we prepare everything. Sylves and Amelie spin clothes, Opal sharpens their sword, Inu and Bay work on a set of better fitting armor that can be reasonably hidden under a nice cloak.

Norman… well, he does whatever it is that he does. Anxiously pacing is a chunk of it. He is also so proficient at nagging I’m almost sure he has a skill for it. Maybe. Probably. Still, I would’ve thought that having Jess yell at him might’ve done away with the complaining for a while longer.

Old habits die hard. Maybe I oughta kill him.

Inu looks at me, and I quickly discard the thought. “Please stop considering murdering my parents,” she says.”

“It’s mostly your dad,” I say.

“Please stop considering murdering my dad,” she rolls her eyes.

“I can try,” I reply easily.

“Will you succeed?” she asks.

“Almost certainly not,” I say.

Inu gives me a sigh and shakes her head. “Dummy,” she says. Then she shakes her head some more, giving a soft snicker. “Seriously. You’re such a weirdo.”

I smile, just a little. “And yet you choose to stick with me.”

At that, she beams a smile at me. “I do!” I wait a few moments for her to add anything, but apparently, she has no desire to do so. Instead of boring into the topic, I just roll my eyes, and tussle her hair a little.

She protests, but that’s okay. We banter a little bit more, but there’s not too much to talk over. Inu tells me more about her skills and how she’s been using them. [Resistance] is especially interesting, since it has a somewhat passive effect, and kinda “sticks” a bit. Anything she gets hurt by hurts her just a little less the next time around.

So, logically, she asks me to heal her when she stabs herself. Classic, entirely sane behaviour.

She also tells me about her new skill, [Reservoir], where she chucks all the pain that comes from training her resistance to be unleashed on unsuspecting victims. It’s devious, because while [Resistance] makes her more resistant to pain, it takes up less space in the reservoir, letting her store it in an almost compressed form.

So, we add resistance training to our routine.

Luckily, I have the great idea of practicing biological inscriptions on Inu since she wants to get hurt anyway, so the minor explosions aren’t really a bother. Between [Resistance], [Reservoir] and [Suppression], she barely feels the sting of it, even when one of the runes goes out of control since her body fights my mana.

With all that practice, I do catch another level.

[Inscription 7 > 8]

[Job up! Enchanter 9 > 10]

With that, my job is capped and I need to earn my advancement. Via tithe, tribulation, or simple skill. I think I’ll aim for the proof of ability, though, since I can feel more essence flood into me now that I’ve reached level ten.

It’s a scrambled packet of knowledge, consisting of common runes for durability, a horribly complex package on how to repair something, and a hundred tiny scraps of information about biological enchanting.

A smile spreads on my lips. I see how it is, dear tower. It must’ve seen my efforts and the direction I wanted to develop in, so I was given a package that helps me move that way. Were the Eyes on me involved in this? Nah, surely one of them would have sabotaged the package.

Maybe they can’t. Maybe some old crafter sent me this? The essence is still so low tier that there aren’t any flashes of memory. The magic breaking essence from my <Nullmage> class is a little different in that way. It’s stronger, vibrant, and concentrated.

All it does is wanna destroy things.

It meshes well with [Deconstruction], but it’s just not quite the same. That’s okay, though, I don’t need it to be. I can mix the two as the situation arises. There are still skills I wanna steal, after all. First and foremost among them, Bay’s [Pulse], since it can create electricity and I am really missing my music.

Soon. I know Bay’s working on it. She’ll get there. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

I sigh, just a little, letting the days drift by. I chat with Sylves and Thatch, the former more than the latter. Me, her and Amelie work together quite a bit for the clothing. A few ants, interested in the ordeal, help out too, so Richard is there to communicate. And, by the end of it, I’ve got rather dashing clothing.

“You’re looking gorgeous,” Sylves assures me. “We could use more stitching and stuff but…”

“But I’m a whiny creature who cannot stand the scratching of the embroidery on my skin. So your only options is to add it to overcoats, where there’s only so much you can do without it being gaudy,” I complete for her.

The girl gives me an awkward smile, spinning in the air until she hangs upside down. “Yep, that’s it. You got me~”

I shoot her a smile. “You’re looking rather pretty yourself,” I say. Her leaf-dress is more fleshed out than ever, and she’s woven literal light into it. Moonlight, specifically. It pulses ever so faintly in tune with the general vibe of the floor, casting pale shadows onto the grey walls. 

She spins, the dress flares, and the shadows of the leaves dance like bony fingers. It’s magical and sinister. I tell her as much.

Sylves beams at me. “Perfect! A fairy has to have some terror to the allure, right? Oh, I can’t wait. This’ll be so fun!”

I give her a smile, fidgeting with my clothes a little more. They’re soft, and comfortable, and the inside is lined with wide strips of the softest thing Amelie could make. The shoulders and waist are a little tight, so it’s not everyday-wear, but I’ll live. I’m still wearing the same boots, and they look a little rugged compared to the refined and elegant vibe of the rest of the fit, but that’s alright, too. They’re comfy. 

And, of course, the last thing I do with Jess and Bay and Amelie and the ants is trap the tunnels to hell and back. Bombs, secret tunnels, pitfall traps, puppets tucked away in dark corners… Everything. We map things out with the help of the colony, and once things are ready, we group up.

Norman wears a dark suit, Opal an even darker one, Thatch a somewhat pale one, and Inu sticks with a pale grey cloak-blazer hybrid thing that nicely hides the dull steel of her armor underneath. Sylves’ moonlight dress really rounds out the fantasy aesthetic. And, of course, they’ve styled my hair to cover half my face, as well as adding a half-cowl to my outfit. No more skull sticking out… for now. I blow against my hair, sending a strand or two flying.

I  smile, just a little. Parties suck. I’m excited to go and ruin one.

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.

Magic Breaker Ch 58-60

Chapter 58: Hive Champions

Meg tilts her head, moving from Inu to me. I feel mana brush against me, and it feels a little like someone waving their hand in my face, as if asking for attention. In return, I hesitate little, doing the same to her.

[Hive Queen, lv. 38]

Strong. Not unbeatable - well, definitely unbeatable where we are right now. But in a one on one? I bet I could kill her. 

She gives me another tilt of her head, looking confused. She chitters at me, and already, I can feel the noises become clearer. Perhaps being around so many ants is helping? Probably that.

Richard moves to translate, but I hold up a hand. “I wanna hear it from her, this time,” I say. It feels personal.

The ant queen, Meg, looks at me, and chitters pleasantly. A few seconds pass, with her running through a dozen noises. Then, the translation finally kicks in properly. “You,” she purrs. Her voice is low, raspy, and there are almost rhythmic clicking sounds. She stares at me, and I stare back.

“You look at me like you hate talking. Then speak for your group. You feel my inspection, then audaciously poke back.” She gives me a long, long stare. “Do you want to die?” 

I shrug. “Not particularly.”

Her eyes stay locked on me. Slowly, a pressure descends, the kind of regal authority one might expect from a monarch. I bear with it elegantly, simply staying upright. My mana fights it off for me. The pressure increases, and I still ignore it. Her mandibles click in surprise. “Strong.”

Slowly, a smile spreads on my face. If she tests me, I might not be able to kill a million ants… but can I kill enough to get out? I wonder. 

“A suitable champion,” Meg announces.

Seems like I won’t have to test it. I look at the ant that brought me here. The worker looks at me and chitters her displeasure at my antics. I just smile, faintly. Maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to kill them all. “Sure,” I tell the hive queen.

“We are willing to work together. Our goals are, in some ways aligned, yes?” she asks.

Talking is getting exhausting again, so I turn to Inu and Thatch. They’re more patient. Opal loves talking, but they’re a bit blunt, and Sylves might try to trick her. She almost can’t help herself. 

Inu nods, confirming for our group. “The tower asks that we cause change. We have… a gripe with a part of Espiree.”

Meg looks curious. “You would burn down the city.”

“No,” Thatch shakes his head. “No, we would not go that far. Our grudge is with the church of Respitia.”

The queen of ants chitters in amusement, resting her head on one of her clawed hands. “I see. Any reason?”

I see the way the others tense at that. Do we tell the ants? I am tempted to. But I don’t wanna stir up trouble. Ah, how bothersome. On one hand, I don’t want to hurt the critters, on the other hand, I’m curious if I could. So, I want to be honest and provoke them, but I also want to keep the peace.

People are troublesome. I am troublesome.

A small sigh leaves my lips. “The paladin, Philia, tried to kill me.”

“Why?” Meg asks.

“That’s a secret for later,” I tell her.

She nods understandingly. “Good. Most of my children aren’t much for talking, but it is good to be silent on some things. Now then, what is your goal with this in the tower?”

Richard replies. “Changing a biome, helping one species with a significant enough claim expand or achieve more safety in some variety,” she explains. “We were hoping to assist you in some variety of ways.”

Meg purrs in satisfaction. “There are… tasks that you may be suited for,” she agrees. “Generally suited and uniquely suited…”

We wait for a few moments, as Richard gestures for her to continue. “There is an errant batch of eggs. Stolen from me by human bounty hunters. We have been scouring the caves for them since. You smell of them, a little.”

I drop the special [Suppression] I’ve been keeping up. The queen recoils in disgust.

“A lot,” she amends. “How-”

“We killed some,” Dar says, simply. The queen eyes him in confusion, and Richard quickly translates. 

Meg’s demeanour flips again, suddenly more pleased with us. “Ah,” she says. “That makes more sense. We shall cleanse it off you without trouble. I am glad you revealed this. Yes, a stolen clutch of eggs, up for auction in Espiree. A curiosity, companions to be used against us.”

I nod. That makes sense. Inu hesitates. “We may have some trouble getting into the city.”

The ant queen huffs. “You are newly integrated. They will not yet be good at differentiating members of your species.”

That… sounds incredibly silly, but it also makes sense. I can barely tell some bird species apart, yet to them it might be obvious. In fact, telling the sumeen apart was difficult for me. Same with the wulven. Richard is still the only hiy’ht I know, so I cannot speak for that but… If it’s the same for others?

Dar snorts. “Yes,” he confirms. “You all do not look too distinct to me.”

How strange. I smile, faintly. 

“Ah,” Meg says, turning to me again. “You may still be recognizable. The wound,” she says, tapping the side of her head for emphasis. 

Right. The bit of my skull that’s still sticking out under blistered, once-molten skin might give me away. 

“You did mention multiple missions,” Inu tries.

Meg nods, just a little. “Yes. There are… other threats to our colony, too,” she says. “There is a strong crawler blocking a tunnel, tearing through the workers I send that way. Another cavern with valuable mushrooms in it is overtaken by centipedes which could use culling. Finally, there are retrieval missions for certain items that we lost.”

Inu nods. “Okay. Give us a moment to discuss what tasks we are suited for. Then we can split up, and deal with them. If they’re enough for us to be deemed worthy by the tower, then we shall happily accept it. If not, well.”

“Just one thing,” Bay interrupts. “Do you have… metal, something I can work with?” she asks. 

I look at her, curious, and she gives me a sheepish look. “We do. Why?” Meg asks.

She gives a small smile. “I wanna try making some armor for you,” she says. “It seems like a fun tinkering challenge. If we could have some scraps in exchange, well…”

Meg purrs in agreement. “Very well. I shall have one of my children guide you there. Let us discuss.”

- - -

In the end, Opal, Thatch and Jess head for the city. They’re the most level headed and round out a solid team. Opal can blink in, Thatch can handle negotiation, and Jess is good backline support. 

Norman and Amelie are on retrieval duty. The man can spot items, and Amelie’s puppets can collect them at little risk. If there is a drawn out battle, she thrives, so it should be fine. 

Sylves and Bay move to the workshops. Our tailor volunteered to help with the armor and to create padding for the ants, in exchange for some raw materials. She should also be making me a nicer bit of clothing. Long sleeves here I come.

Dar and Inu head for the centipedes. They’re good fighters, and Inu especially seems to think that her [Resistance] might be strong against them. If they’re poisonous, which they are, she’s our best bet. 

And finally, Richard and I get to fight the cavern crawler. The large one, killing ants out there. I’m good at fighting single targets, after all, and Richard can all-round compensate for me. “What’s your class, actually?” I ask the hiy’ht.

“[Eater],” she replies. I tilt my head, and she elaborates. “I get to consume things, store them, and release them when needed. It’s an evolved form of the whole species bit where I eat fire.”

Huh. Neat. Wait. I hold out a hand to her, creating a long, solid mana needle. “Can you store that?” I ask.

She chitters for a moment, then sniffs the mana. “One way to find out,” she says with a shrug, then bites down on the construct I summoned.

I feel a pulse of mana from inside her, and the needle vanishes. “Huh,” I say.

“Neat,” Richard repeats.

“How… how many of those can you store?” I ask.

Richard, very slowly, breaks into a smile. “Many.”

That cavern crawler is in for a round of trouble.

Chapter 59: If it’s One on One, bet on Ion

/If it’s one on one, bet on Ion.

I’m serious. I once saw Ion walk up to a cavern crawler twice their level as a rookie, and then crush the thing. Monstrous./

-Bobby “Gossip” Rich, level 22 climber

- - - 

I’m in a spot of trouble. As the enormous cavern crawler charges at me, I throw my entire body to the side, [Suppressing] it with everything I have and finding that, for once, it’s just not quite enough.

[Cavern Crawler lv. 37]

The creature crashed past me and the wind sends my hair flying. It’s strong. Incredibly strong. Mana pours out of me as if I’m a fountain, tearing itself from my vessel to slow its movements. Even then, even when having to move through a swamp of trouble, the thing is fast.

Those dozens of chitinous legs tear up the ground, and it comes barreling at me again like a freight train. No projectiles, no tricks, just raw mass in motion, slamming towards me. It’s fast and vicious, with a dozen legs clacking against the ground.

It’s a huge thing, almost as big as a car, with wriggling, forward facing teeth on its jaw. They extend forwards on fleshy muscles whenever it tries to bite me. There’s nothing for Richard to eat, and frankly, I’m even more glad we stocked up on magic before, now. 

As I dive out of the way again, rolling against the stone, I focus in, my [Suppression] crashing down even harder. It gives me a nosebleed, wrestling with the crawler for control. Luckily, I don’t need to win.

[Suppression 11 > 12]

Richard appears from my side, opening her mouth wider than I think she should be able to. One of my needles exits from it - first slowly, like a sword being swallowed in reverse, then all at once accelerating and slashing forward.

The magical weapon sinks into the hide of the crawler, and it screeches, thrashing and breaking the hold of my skill. Its magic is tossed into disarray, but it still has enormous physical bulk to throw at me, and now, in desperation, it's deceptively fast.

It crashes into my side a moment later, sending me flying, tumbling off to the side.

Ah. So that’s what it’s like to get hit by a car.

Not one to be outdone, I quickly stand to my feet, ignoring the blood from a half dozen abrasion wounds on me, and drive my knife into its side, having coated it with solid mana. It sinks deep into the monster’s body, and I start pumping even more mana in, lengthening the blade while inside the monster. More needles leave Richard’s mouth, stabbing into the critter.

[Solidification 6 > 7]

My enhanced weapon sinks into the thing, tearing through its organs. When it starts thrashing, I give it one last, horrible present, with a twist of [Solidification] and [Deconstruction] working as one, I weaken the solid mana, and when the monster’s internal defenses touch it to dispel the magic, it explodes.

[Deconstruction 8 > 9]

[Job up! Enchanter 8 > 9]

I barely have time to consider that the system thought of that as an enchantment as the monster shakes me off. Instead, I hop back, pulling at my vessel to [Suppress] the beast again. It thrashes and fights me, but with its mana disrupted and in a mess, it’s weaker, now. 

Richard moves in at the same time as my shadow. Kuro rears their head, a small, formless blob darting across the cavern, and sinking into the shadow of the crawler. Small, needle-like teeth rise from the darkness, sinking into one of its legs at the same time as Richard takes a big bite from its side. 

A moment later, the crawler thrashes, and a pulse of mana spins out from it. The wave slams into Richard, pushing her back, but I break it before it gets to me. Some kind of shockwave based skill? 

The crawler whirls, golden ichor flowing from its side, and leaking from Richard’s teeth. It turns its attention to the stunned hiy’ht, confused on the floor. [Selection] flies out, and I manage the [Deconstruct] the stunning magic a moment before its teeth reach Richard, letting her roll back as Kuro takes another nip at its legs.

Another pulse of mana, its insides slowly coming under its control again, this one travelling into the stone beneath me. I focus on it, throwing a [Deconstruct] at it, chipping the spell, but it holds. Another wave of my magic breaking hits it, tearing off a bigger piece of the working. It’s enough that by the time it hits me, it only stabs into the bottom of my foot rather than tearing my leg clean off. 

[Class up! Nullmage 1 > 2]

Three points trickly into my vessel as my ability to break magic was once again put to the test. I [Suppress] the monster again, just in time for Richard to dodge another attack. I’m lucky she’s small and nimble, able to avoid the worst of it. Her teeth close around the thing again, tearing off another chunk of meat, splattering her in ichor, and at the same time the flesh goes down, more of our stored needles come up.

I see the thing course mana through its own body, and its wounds begin knitting closed a little, when three of my needles hit at the same time, disrupting the spell, mangling it. The magic is broken, and the regeneration turns twisted, making more vital ichor spell forth from the monster, drenching the floor. Kuro greedily drinks it all.

Using the chance, I step forward, pulling my last goblin axe and slamming it into the monster’s face. It turns towards me at the last moment, and instead of hitting an eye, the axe glances off a tooth, digging deep into the thing’s gums. 

That does, however, put me in biting range.

Teeth dig into my arm, raking furrows through my flesh as I lunge back. Pain floods my veins with adrenaline and my heart pounds in my chest. I dull the horrible ache, and focus on everything affected by [Selection]. The caves matter just a little less, as it all reduces down to the fight.

Now, the crawler is fixed on me, having tasted blood. Even as another needle pierces its side, the monster comes at me, and I step back. It follows, and I hammer down some more with [Suppression]. Another needle hits its side, and Kuro bites another leg. We’re bleeding it dry.

Then, the monster sheds its carapace.

All at once, massive plates of chitin fall to the wayside. The thing shed half its weight in a second, lunging at me far faster than ever before, and tossing me to the ground beneath it. It’s lighter, but still easily enough to press me into the ground. 

My head slams against the rock and the world blurs for a moment. When my eyes focus again, all I see is teeth. My heart screams of death, and my mind sharpens even further. [Suppression] comes down with violence, my good arm grabbing its maw and pushing back against the monster. 

Second by second, the teeth inch closer to my throat. I smell the horrid stench of its mouth, so bad I can barely filter it out. A tooth touches my skin, my hand quivering as I push. It breaks skin, a drop of red flowing forth.

I grit my teeth, pushing with my arm and mind, before focussing, doubling down, and slamming all the rest of my mana into a [Deconstruction]. It’s inelegant, pure violence given form, and slams into the things face. 

The teeth, so close to tearing out my throat, crack and crumble. My arm dislodges rotten enamel, pushing the breaking fangs inside the monster’s own mouth as its weapons fall apart. I quickly adjust, grabbing the axe in its mouth, pulling it out, and slamming it upwards, coated in the dregs of mana I can scrounge from the very bottom of my core. 

It strikes into the roof of the crawler’s mouth, pouring spittle and ichor on me, as the thing roars, leaning back. Kuro and Richard have been tearing into it, and once I wriggle out as it thrashes, we quickly kill it. I pull out the axe and give it a final slam through the head.

[You have killed a lv. 37 Cavern Crawler]

[Level up! 23 > 24]

All my points go into vessel. I smile, seeing that it’s naturally gone up by one, too, as well as my power. Then my lips twist downwards in disgust as I remember the sticky mess I’m coated in. It’s disgusting. I want a shower, desperately.

Still, when the new points come in, I turn to Richard, kneeling over her. She has a few scrapes and a couple shallow stabs and slices from the legs. I heal her with the bits of mana I have left, then struggle to my feet. 

Bloodied, covered in ichor, and feeling disgusted, I smile at her. “Let’s bring back the good news,” I say.

“You healed me,” Richard says.

“Yeah,” I reply, tilting my head at her. I’m limping on one foot, and one of my arms dangles by my side, deep, bloody furrows in it. “And?” I ask.

She gives me a look, then smiles. “Thank you, Snow,” she says. “That was kind of you.”

“I try,” I say. Then, I start limping back down the tunnel, ants already swarming past us, retrieving the body. “Now let’s tell them.”

Chapter 60: Return to the City

PoV: Opal Kingston - Gem

I heft my sword onto my shoulder, the familiar  weight of the [Bound Armament] calming my nerves. It’s solid, reliable, and I like it. Thatch and Jess stand with me, in line to be let into the city.

For a little while, I wonder if they’ll actually let us in, but then I look more closely and dang. I’m real crap at picking out the difference between the fuzzballs or the slender things. They look so similar. Sure, differently long arms, different fur somewhat, but… well. It’s new, and I’ve still gotta learn it, so I’m not good at it yet.

If we’re lucky, the same will be true for the guards. If we’re super lucky, none of the ones that first let us in will be here. Snow sure drew a lot of looks - which hopefully kept them off the rest of us. 

If not, I guess I might have to figure out how to take people with me across [Blinks] sooner rather than later. A small smile spreads on my face, finding its usual resting place there, and I scratch at my beard. 

Honestly, I don’t think we’ve been doing half bad at this whole integration thing. Man, when a werewolf challenged me to a duel I sure was scared. And then, Snow showed up, looking unshaken as ever. Even thinking of that bitch’s face makes me wanna compete, dang it. If Snow has a resting blank face, then I guess my resting expression is a grin.

Life’s better enjoyed when humorous, after all! Gotta find some joy in it, or it’s all pointless. 

Thatch elbows me. “You’re starting to stare,” he says. 

Ah. Right. I look down at him and flash the handsome bastard a grin. “Thanks for the reminder, will be sure to stare at you instead.” I wink. He rolls his eyes. 

Jess looks on with that frozen look on her face. I think she’s using one of her skills on herself. It’s kinda scary, and I don’t think it’s good for her. Maybe I should mention it. Ah, but then, it’s kinda troublesome…

I do it anyway. “Jess,” I ask, quietly. “You doing okay?”

Thatch has the audacity to look at me with surprise, as if I’m not the most empathetic of our little friend group. 

Okay. 

Maybe I’m not.

Still, though!

She looks at me, with an entirely level stare plastered across her dark face, then nods. “Just fine, thank you.”

Her tone is so even, I get goosebumps. In reply, I smile, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s okay to cry, y’know?” 

The words come easily from my mouth, and I find that I mean them. It’s our slogan, a little bit. It’s silly, but… well. What isn’t? I’m cool with being a bit sappy sometimes. Jess remains level headed, though I see her flinch for a moment. She takes my hand off her shoulder, holds it for a moment, then drops it. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “I’ll consider it.”

I nod. Her hand was freezing. Like a zombie. Damn, cold! I don’t say the pun out loud but still smirk at it. 

Waiting in line is so boring I almost start humming, but then I remember that there is a way more fun thing to do. I focus on my skills, on the one I developed myself. [Diamond in the Rough]. It’s a silly name for an elegant skill, and I think it suits me. I’ve always been good with stones. 

Hence why I named myself after one! Opals are cool. And I’m cool, so I’m Opal. It suits me.

With a light tap of my knuckles on my forehead, I focus again. [Diamond in the Rough] activates, and I feel its effects propagate through me. It’s a crystalline kinda magic, turning myself more… solid. Rooted. Like I’m weaving a protective casing? No, that’s just not quite right.

Truth is, I don’t fully get the skill, but I know it makes me sharper. Faster, stronger, and even enhances my vessel. It feels like thin, crystalline growths sprout on me, burrowing in the parts of my body that are supposed to be sturdy, reinforcing my bones and stuff. It’s cool, honestly. 

Gems are cool. I still don’t have a job, which kinda feels like an insult. I was the only one out of all of us with a full-time gig! Now, Snow and Sylves already have jobs, and Inu’s basically set for hers. I have an inkling of what Thatch wants to do, but I’m not pushing. He’ll get there when he gets there. Gotta let him pursue it himself.

Ahhh, I really am bad at focussing. I let my mind drift to gems and jewels again. I used to collect them, but the collection got lost pretty fast when the world went to shit. Maybe I can start a new one, though! That’d be cool. I want more gems. I wanna make them, I wanna carve them, I wanna see them put into jewelry.

Maybe I can get Bay to set them in rings and necklaces, and Snow to enchant them? That’d be a suitable job for me. A jewelcrafter. With crystalline magic bones, named Opal, with the anonymous name Gem.

Now that’s funny. I love it.

By the time I am grinning ear to ear at my internal monologue, we make it to the gate. “More humans,” the guard groans, then launches into a spiel about not killing anyone, blah blah blah. I don’t care. We’re here to cause trouble, after all. Let’s be real, we aren’t winning the auction.

Thatch gets us in. I steal the eggs. Then, with Jess’ help, we get back out.

If I’m planning to break the laws already, then hearing them doesn’t really matter all that much, right? I zone out a bit, letting Thatch handle the negotiating. How nice it is to have friends that can focus for more than five minutes.

- - -

Walking to the auction house is more fun. People in the city stare, some more unabashed about it than others. It feels a little like I’m back home. Rural places are usually like that, too. Everyone gives you that look that makes you think you don’t quite belong.

Here, it’s a little different. I feel like a curiosity, like something new and fascinating. A few give me longer looks; I suppose I stick out a little compared to the other two, given that I’m taller. I return a few checks, and whenever someone’s mana sense brushes up against me, I make sure to poke them back in that way Snow showed me. What a clever critter my friend is.

It creates an annoying sensation, and I see multiple of them yelp. Idiots.

But, at the very least, there is something to do. I like the noise in the background, listening in and focussing on different conversations to see if I can’t pick something out. A younger climber getting scammed. A team planning to go on an excursion. Someone having just come back from an ascendancy well, having lost most of their team.

There’s a hodgepodge of experience here. People laughing, people crying, having good and horrible days. It smells alive. I can feel my heart beating in the middle of it all, and as we walk through the streets, I see stalls, too. Selling food, minor artifacts, some offering advice or maps from jobbed cartographers, and so on.

We ignore them all and move for a big, opulent building. All lacquered and fancy-like, boards of dried mushroom being used as wood, bits of giant bone, and stone, all melding together to somehow display extravagance. It’s carved and crafted… and it screams posh.

Ahhh, I’m excited. I kinda wanna tear it down, but I guess I’ll have to make do with stealing from it. Nothing quite like taking a blade to the rich. 

A pair of guards scans us, asking if we have an invitation to the auction, and we pull out three sheets. Another reason why only three of us went - that’s how many invites the ants pulled from dead bounty hunters.

The guards grumble, looking at us suspiciously, probably wondering how humans came about these. “Any trouble?” Thatch asks with a small smile. “We won these off a more established bounty hunting team for helping them when they were swarmed in the tunnels. They said it’d be a good place for newbies to start getting renown, and that credibility was worth its weight in gold.” 

He puts on a smile, and I can already tell we’re through. One of the guards starts looking at the group behind us, and the other one gives Thatch a smile. “You got a good deal out of ‘em, sir,” he says to our resident handsome bastard. “Come on inside, then. Do make sure you have the funds for any item you bid on.” Dang pretty privilege.

Thatch nods and smiles back. “Any advice?” he asks.

The guard smiles a little. “Sure. Keep an eye out for synergies. Don’t buy the flashy stuff if you don’t need it, invest in your skills, not gear. Don’t get fleeced,” he adds with a cheeky wink.

My friend replies with a happy nod. “Thank you.”

“Alright, in you go, don’t cause any trouble,” the guard says, waving us forward, and we head through the red curtains draped over the entrance.

I draw in a deep breath, grinning. I can’t wait to cause trouble.

Magic Breaker Ch 55-57

Chapter 55: Tunnel Rats

/Multiple hunter teams vanished at disparate points in the tunnels. Tracking devices broken, final spots recorded. What the hells is happening out there? Are we really having whole teams hunted down by people barely past the integration?! Get your act together, I wanna see a report of their team comp, stat!/

-Envida Irest, branch head of the Hunter’s Guild in Espiree

- - - 

Living in the caverns is a little dreary. They’re dark, damp, and the food is mid at best. There are no baths, and that’s been getting on my nerves, too. We need some more infrastructure, but none of us have been offered a cleaning job yet.

I don’t mind too much, really. Other than the baths, I can tolerate the food. I like the darkness, even, and I have no issues with things being cramped. It’s calm, and so long as I keep warm, it feels nice. Sometimes I ask Richard for a little help with that, and the little hiy’ht enjoys sitting next to me.

She sometimes hums a few calm, quiet tunes. I hear them more, now that my phone is out of battery. That’s honestly the worst bit of all of this. 

The caves echo. I like Richard’s humming, but her hymns get distorted by the caverns, and the echo is exhausting. It makes it hard to focus, when there are occasionally dripping and skittering noises. But I can’t use my headphones, since those, too, ran out of battery. Bay better figure out how to recharge them soon, or I’ll do it myself.

We have, however, gotten a lot better at navigating the tunnels. There have also been fewer hunters than we expected. Occasionally we find a colony of insects, but we’ve always been able to dispatch them. It’s kinda annoying, I don’t really wanna kill the critters, but such is life. I don’t get too broken up about it, either.

Instead, I focus on the mana maze. Whenever I get bored, I form my mana into a stylus and scratch runes into rocks. If I mess them up, they like to explode into mana-shrapnel, which seems like I might be able to use in combat, but it’s horribly inefficient. I could just make mana orbs and have those explode for cheaper and less time.

Plus, Bay’s job is much better at helping her make bombs. I try inscribing those, too, seeing how the enchantments react. Unfortunately, most of the runes I know are for storing or moving power, as well as sending and receiving signals, rather than anything else. I’m still learning from our water-items, but it’s slow going.

Ah, I wanna steal more.

With a sigh, I relegate myself to practicing the enchantments I already know, and shoring up weaknesses in them. It’s slow going, but I make progress.

[Inscription 5 > 6]

[Job up! Enchanter 7 > 8]

Another point trickles into vessel, and the pressure against my chest grows again. I sometimes have to pour a little bit of mana into [Flesh Restoration], just to deal with the minor amounts of damage it’s doing. I could just keep my mana bottomed out, but honestly? This is good practice for my heart stat.

To train power, I also keep [Suppression] active on myself. With the skill being my highest, the efficiency of mana is pretty good, and I can keep a weak version on me with just what I regenerate. It’s almost like a passive effect, a constant workout for my mind and body. It’s nice, like stretching a sore muscle.

Plus, it helps me understand it and my other skills. Using [Suppression] when I try to solidify mana, or change its shape, makes it much harder. I use it when I practice with the mana maze, and I even deconstruct my own skills sometimes, just to see what would happen.

It’s fun. I learn more about mana, more about skills. Another hunter team finds us, but they’re looking ragged even as they show up. We take them down with little fuss, to the point where I don’t even level from it, the tower not deeming them a challenge.

“What do you think they encountered in the tunnels?” I ask absent-mindedly, while practicing my mana a bit.

“Maybe a gloomstalker?” Richard suggests.

I hum in thought. “Nah, don’t think so, it woulda killed them all.”

She nods, just a bit. “Fair. Probably some cave insects, then,” she notes. 

“Probably,” I agree, then put the thought aside. 

“They smelled weird,” Richard says.

“Hmmmm,” I hum.

When I do so, she quiets down, focussing on the food. She stirs the pot, filled with mushrooms, water, and cuts of meat. We found a small cavern with a dirty spring in it before, and using the purifying waterskin, we can now make stews. Lovely.

Richard’s cooking is good. I think she has a cooking-related job, but I haven’t checked yet. She doesn’t volunteer much about herself, and I respect it. She sure can eat, though. Makes fires, then eats them when we’re done, while also monching plenty of food herself. We forgive her, ‘cause she cooks well.

A few more days pass that way. We walk through the caves, relying on Thatch to spot things and Norman to check them out. We gather up mushrooms where we can find them, cooking them into meals. Jess turns some of the less disgusting cave-critters into decent looking cuts of food. And we survive.

I sigh. Is this… really it? 

All that anger I had at the [Darkbreaker] is still there. I still wanna kill them. I still want to bring Sylves’ arm back, but at the same time, I’ve been feeling a bit stuck. The lack of challenge, of lethality, is making me anxious. I wanna throw myself into the thick of it again, not stand in the back, casting [Suppression] over and over. I’ve run out of magic items to take apart, too, and tracing the runes on the mana maze is getting boring. 

We’re not even fighting anything fun. Just insects. They’re mindless little critters who’ve done nothing to deserve what we’re doing to them. I don’t mind hiding away from strong enemies like a rat. I don’t want my friends to get hurt. But surely, they could spare a couple bounty hunters that don’t almost die in the tunnels, right?

So, when, after some days of scurrying, I find an ant around a corner of a tunnel, I’m intrigued. Ants, huh? Weren’t those known for levelling cities?

How curious.

Chapter 56: Ants

The ant is about the size of a dog. Not a small dog, but not a large one, either. It stands a little smaller than my knees. I tilt my head at it.

Its carapace is a dark grey, almost stone like, with some hints of brown and red in there. It has long mandible, and they look kinda wicked. Ready to bite into flesh, at least. I tilt my head at the critter, and Richard, my partner for today’s exploration, mimics the motion.

And then the ant mimics us, too.

I tilt my head the other way.

The ant tilts its head the other way, too.

Very slowly, I kneel down, and stretch my hand out to it. It moves a little closer, antennae twitching faintly. I wait, patiently.

Richard chirps. It’s a noise that doesn’t get translated, despite the nature of the system. The ant looks at her, then curiously at my hand. It’s antennae twitch. What a curious little creature. 

Another chirp. Another twitch. “What’s going on?” I ask.

The hiy’ht tilts their head, speaking quietly. “She says we smell like enemies. But we don’t look like enemies.”

I nod, then very gently push my hand out further. Very slowly, I cast [Suppression] on myself, trying to mute my smell. 

A twitch, something changed. The ant flinches back a bit. Dang it. Wrong one. I shift my suppression, trying out a few different modes, until Richard whispers again. “Like that,” she says. “Hold it.”

The hiy’ht returns to chittering at the ant, who seems even calmer now. It takes another step towards me, bumping an antenna into my hand. It’s a little fuzzy, covered in tiny hairs. It feels strange, but I don’t mind too much. 

Animals are different from humans. It might be an ant. Maybe there are another hundred thousand out there, but right now, it’s a little critter. And it’s cute. I tilt my head again, and it mimics the motion. I wish I could talk to it. The system rears its head before I can voice it.

[Ascension Quest: Ecosystem Balancing. Earn the assistance and favour of a reasonably dominant force on the first floor. Help them acquire adequate territory in the caverns.]

I blink. Then I look at the ant. 

A reasonably dominant force.

“Richard, did you also…?” I ask.

She nods, slowly. “Yes. An ascension quest.”

Gently, a smile spreads across my lips. The ant chitters, touching another antennae to my hand, and I reach out a little further, brushing it across the critter’s head. It makes a noise that seems eerily close to purring. 

I don’t fully understand the mechanics of the tower yet. There are clearly multiple steps to ascension. An aspect of time, I’m guessing, since integration took a while on Earth. An aspect of discovery, since we only got the quest when finding the ant. Maybe the city, Espiree, could have also provided it, but maybe we hadn’t fulfilled the time requirement then? 

There are more aspects yet. One of change. We need to change something in the tower. About the ecosystem, about the forces in it. Changing the world, for better or for worse, is an indication of progress, after all. And finally, an aspect of challenge. I’d wager that once we complete the challenge, we’ll be able to see the ascension wells again, and then find one.

The ant purrs, and I rub the top of its head. A few bits of mushroom are clumped in the fine hairs there, and I shake them loose, brushing them off. The ant chitters happily. Richard hums with amusement.

“She wants to mark you as a friend,” the hiy’ht informs me.

I look at the critter, then nod. “Sure.”

[The Creeping Darkness reminds you that you have a companion in your shadow!]

I have to hold back a snicker at the message. “Don’t worry, Kuro. No one’s replacing you. Just setting us up for success.”

No reply comes. The ant beckons me forward, and I lean in. Her antenna taps against my forehead, and I feel a thin tether of mana. It’s weak and thin, but it feels heavy. I analyze it for a moment before letting it connect.

A tether forms between me, the ant, and thousand upon thousands more of the creatures.

It’s such a thin connection, though, that despite knowing there are thousands of creatures in it, it’s quiet. There’s no rush, no push. All I feel is a knowledge that they exist if I focus on it, kind of like realizing there are other people living in the same city as you. And even that fades if I don’t focus on it.

What it does do, other than giving me vague impressions of ants existing, is giving me vague impressions of what the ant in front of me, specifically, is thinking. She seems pleased that I cleaned away some of the spores clumping her hairs. She also seems glad that I no longer smell like an enemy. 

I tilt my head, wondering if she can hear me, too. She nods, confirming my curiosity. 

The ant isn’t super smart. She can’t form full sentence like, say, Richard or me, but she’s much sharper than, say, a dog. In fact…

[Worker - 5]

The ant has a job. Not just a species and a supremacy level, but a job, and probably a class too, but since she gives me a somewhat offended huff when I check the job, I don’t try again. Instead, I thank her by brushing some more spores from her hair, and picking out a few pieces of spider web, and my rude infraction against polite ant-culture is forgotten.

Eventually, I step back a bit, and Richard also gets a tap from an antenna. My connection to her is a lot duller. I don’t feel any emotions from Richard, just a vague awareness that she is an acquaintance of a friend. How funny. 

We look at each other, and the hiy’ht smiles. “I am glad we did not fight.”

I nod. “Let’s get the others,” I say. “We should give this ascension quest a shot.”

Richard nods. “Yes,” she confirms, then turns to the ant, chittering a bit again. After a few seconds, the little critter nods, and Richard turns to me. “She’ll wait here, she says. She’s a little scared of our ‘hive’,” the hiy’ht explains, sounding a bit amused. 

Again, I nod, smiling faintly. Ants are such silly critters indeed. “Let’s get the others then.”

- - -

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Norman says. “I finally get used to living in the tunnels and now you want us to come with you, find a colony of monster ants, and try to win their favour so that the tower deems us worthy to ascend?!”

I shrug. “Would you rather try to exterminate the hive?” As the words leave my mouth they taste terrible, as if I just asked him to kick puppies. I hope he’ll say no, for his own good.

Norman just throws his hands up, helplessly. “I don’t know, okay? Shit. I don’t know at all. Fine, let’s go to the stupid monster ants. Whatever could go wrong?” 

With a smile, I give a nod. “Exactly, glad you understand. Alright, let’s go.”

And then, I turn around, and walk. The others follow, some more begrudgingly than others. That’s okay. I’m sure the ants will be more pleasant company.

Chapter 57: Colony

We find our way back to the ant, still waiting for me. It seems a little worried at the size of our party, but when I apply the same suppression as before, the wariness wears off. She quickly rushes in and gives me a flick of an antenna and a tap from a mandible, noting her displeasure at being made to wait in the tunnels for so long.

I reply with a small request to head back quickly, if she’s in a hurry.

The ant gives me a click of her mandibles, which I choose to interpret as a huff, then walks off. And we follow.

Watching her maneuver around the tunnels is fun. She picks each direction so confidently, probably following a trail of some kind. After a few minutes, we see another ant. Another little while passes by, and we see two more. Soon, there are dozens of ants in the tunnels, carrying bits of mushrooms and insects in the same direction as we walked. 

Sometimes, my ant friend stops to brush some spores out of the sensory hairs of her sisters. It takes a little while, but eventually, Inu tries to help one. And, as before, the ant hesitates, then presses into Inu’s hand.

She melts, just a little bit. Her [Empathy] probably gives her more insight into the critters than I have, she’s always been good with animals. Well, maybe not that wolf that tried to eat me. That one didn’t get along well with us.

I shrug, discarding the train of thought, as my mana pushes heavily against my chest again. Since the ants seem a little wary of us, I don’t wanna use too many skills. It feels like they might see that as a sign of hostilities. So, instead, I create an orb of solid mana in my mouth, reshaping it in there. I try to chew on it and make it feel like bubblegum.

The mana crunches a little bit as I chew it, mentally making it shift to fit my teeth. It feels like there are crystals of it grinding against my teeth, creating a funny feeling. Then, I cast [Deconstruction] on my little exercise, trying to break it and hold it together at the same time.

We walk further into the tunnels. Norman yelps when he sees the ants carry their first humanoid body part. 

It’s a leg, overgrown with fuzzy fur, but decidedly still leg-shaped. 

A little bit of blood leaks from the appendage, dripping onto the floor. An ant is carrying it in her mandibles, shuffling by us. Bay swallows drily. I feel Inu borrowing a bit of calm from me. She sends over a bit of the horror she feels at the sight. Curious.

Soon enough, the ant passes. We keep walking anyway. “Snow, are you sure we should throw in with the hive?” Thatch asks.

“Would you rather try out luck with the city?” I return. 

He grimaces. “No…”

I smile, a little. “I mean it,” I say. “If this is too much, we’ll walk. We’ll journey through the tunnels until we find another city where my bounty is forgotten. Or find some other species we can help. But, well, do you think the sapients hesitate to murder the ants?”

“Probably not,” he says, dejected. “It’s… fine. I just worry. My eyes are hurting. There are so many of them.”

That, I agree with. Through the tiny link I have, I can feel them. They’re below us, above us, beside us now. Other tunnels, filled with them. Sometimes, the stone rumbles and shifts slightly, as they use magics to adjust the tunnels. 

It’s amazing, feeling the mana buzzing in the air. So many creatures means a lot of vessels producing, using, and shaping the ethereal substance to manipulate the world. I don’t think any one of these ants is stronger than me. If I really tried, I could probably crush a dozen, maybe even a hundred, but there are already thousands.

We’re at the mercy of the swarm. It’s lucky, then, that they are silent and polite. They don’t come too close to me, they aren’t very loud, and the amount of them breaks up the echo in the caves. They also don’t need much light, leaving some strange globes hovering about.

Somehow, they have more advanced magical lighting than we do. 

I wanna take one of their lamps apart, but that feels rude, so I let go of the urge. Instead, we follow the ant, on and on and on.

- - -

And then, we stand in front of a door.

I’m very serious. The ants carved a door. It’s made from solid stone, but it has hinges, and opens from the middle once a lock is lifted from the inside. Not a very refined thing, at all, but terribly heavy and rather secure. It’s hewn into the solid wall of a cave, meaning the wall is probably about as thick as that of a fortress. 

There’s a scraping noise, and the heavy stone pushes aside. We are led inside what I can only describe as an antechamber. It’s lit with spell-globes, and has a vaulted ceiling. Inside it all, there are a few smaller monstrous ants, about the size of weasels, scurrying about, and caring for a much larger one.

Compound eyes the size of my head turn towards us. Mandibles that could snap me cleanly in half. The monstrous ant is the size of a car, laying down on a bed of dried mushrooms. She tilts her head at me.

I tilt my head in response.

Her mandibles click together three times, a little bit like applause. I feel vague amusement, blurred through the double link. It seems to be more specifically with my newfound buddy, rather than the queen, specifically.

Apparently, that doesn’t stop her, because, as a moment passes, the chitin begins click-claccing. Plates shift. Inside rearrange. The flesh beneath ripples and compressed. A second passes, then ten, and grotesque snapping noises ring out.

A hundred thousand ants are outside, their heads snapping back to attention. From what was once a car sized monstrosity, steps an elegant looking humanoid. Segmented arms ending in two grasping claws, four legs, each ending in tiny little hooks, made to cling to ceilings, a pair of thin, insectoid wings behind her back, and the head of an ant. 

But still. Decidedly humanoid. The mandibles on her face shrink further, sinking back to reveal what almost looks like a mouth. Her… I struggle to call them lips, because they’re not, but what almost passes for lips move, making chittering noise. I listen intently, trying to decipher it.

Richard has more luck, stepping forward, and giving a small bow.

“Yes,” she says. “Until the system translates, I may serve as an intermediary?” she asks, formally.

The queen nods.

Richard turns to us, giving me a cheeky smile. “Hive queen Meg greets us. The tower has told her we may be suitable as champions of the hive. She asks if we are amicable to discuss this further?”

I smile, faintly. “Yeah, alright,” I say. “We can talk.”

Somewhere out there, I hope Philia the [Darkbreaker] is scared. Me and my ant buddies are about to make her life a lot worse.

Chapter 282: Fire and Thalassophobia

Chapter 282: Fire and Thalassophobia

The master of the peak of Slaughter was a strong man. He was a wild man, built for brutality. With every swing of his fists, the air shattered, and he had broken armies before. For that was the essence of his art - brutality.

Zyl stood across from him with a calm, self-assured grace. He hadn’t been broken before, and he wouldn’t be broken now. Or so he thought.

When the first blow rattled onto his stomach, Zyl gasped. It knocked the breath right out of him, even as his body remained rooted in place. Like violence itself drawing him into a bear-hug and refusing to let him go. Another blow landed on his face.

Fist met cartilage, and Zyl’s nose broke. Blood sprayed on the floorboards, even as they creaked. Just the punches themselves were beginning to throw up splinters of wood, the air whistling about angrily, making the peak master’s hair flutter in the wind.

“What’s wrong?!” the beastly man asked, throwing another punch, landing on Zyl’s chin. “Where’d all that bravado go?!”

Gritting his teeth, the dragon smiled. It was a blood smile, his lip already busted, but he grinned still. With a swift motion, he brushed a punch aside, and staggered a few steps back. “Damn,” he said. “You got me, that hurt. You pack a punch.” He turned his head and spat blood on the floor. 

The deacon of admissions grimaced at the bloodstains. “C’mon, fuck, man. I gotta clean that up, can you like… fight outside?”

For a single moment, the master of Slaughter looked over, and, wisely, the deacon shut his mouth. Mercury clapped the cowardly man on the shoulder, smiling faintly. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll clean up any blood splatters.” Not that he thought there’d be any of this place left standing.

A blink passed, and Zyl spread his wings. Scales rolled over his skin, and he breathed out. The air shivered, wavering with heat-distortions. And Zyl punched back.

With a rush of wind, and the creaking of floorboard, the dragon flapped his wings just once, and was upon the peak master. Violence erupted instantly, the two tearing into each other with rabid abandon.

Zyl’s first punch knocked one of the peak master’s teeth out. In return, he got a black eye from a punch. By the third blow, the air was heating up. By the fourth, the wood around them was beginning to smoke and smoulder.

In less than a second, the floor around them was reduced to a pile of rubble, even their counter-force abilities no longer containing them. Wooden splinters flew through the air, and the two wrestled on stone. 

With a swift motion, Zyl’s claws dug a deep furrow into the peak master’s body, adding more scars to the man’s skin. In exchange, the monster in human skin just grinned, clapping his hands shut around Zyl’s ears, shattering the dragon’s eardrums.

When he staggered, the peak master landed another blow in his gut, making Zyl fold. But once the old monster prepared for a hammer-blow, Zyl kicked. His clawed feet dug a deep rent into the cultivator’s belly, flaying skin from skin. The peak master spat blood, but it did not stop his smile.

Mercury turned to the receptionist, who was still staring at the rubble of his desk, where he’d been smacked through it. The middle-aged deacon sighed and rubbed his neck. “So,” Mercury asked, “what’s the peak Master’s name?” 

“Gun-Byeong the Beast,” the deacon helpfully provided. Then, he sighed. “Also, I think we should get out of here, before we turn into casualties.”

With a soft chuckle, Mercury shook his head. “I’ll be okay,” he said confidently. He might not be okay. “If it’s gonna get rough for you, you should dip, though.”

“Ah, dang. Guess I’ll feckin’ stick it out,” the receptionist said and shrugged, picking his chair up from the rubble and taking a seat.

By now, Zyl was elbow deep into clawing at Gun-Byeong’s flesh. Bones were shattered between the two, and one of the dragon’s wings had been ripped off. Blood stained the wood, and the Beast laughed, even as he staggered back.

“Fakaka! Yes, beautiful! The body of a beast! You just don’t break, do you?!” he asked, his flesh wriggling and mending.

Crimson fire flowed over Zyl’s scales like water. His wounds burnt to ash, and healthy flesh filled the gaps. It looked… painfully hot, but the dragon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he just stepped forward. The grin on Gun-Byeong’s face threatened to split the peak master’s face.

It was scary just how elated he looked when they clashed again. Both stepped forward, fist meeting fist. Their knuckles shattered, the floor exploded, the wood splintered, and the entire shitty admissions shack was blown away.

Walls folded outwards, and the ceiling shot into the sky. Wood splinters rained like snow, and with a beat of his single remaining wing, Zyl spiraled upwards into the air. Of course, the master of Slaughter wouldn’t let that stop him. With another raucous laugh, he launched off the floor, shattering stones and shooting pebbles at Mercury’s face, and ascended high up.

“Why ‘the beast’?” Mercury asked calmly. He had to raise his voice a little - the punches all exceeded the speed of sound and filled the air with loud cracks. 

The deacon shrugged helplessly, gesturing at the peak master. “I mean… look at him,” the man said. “That’s a monster wearing human skin.”

Mercury snickered softly at that description since he wasn’t exactly human either. But that was fine. He had plenty of personhood in him. Gun-Byeong, meanwhile, seemed rather elated up there. With a bright grin, he ran into another haymaker. Qi-infused steps carried him across the sky, where Zyl’s fist met his face, sending him flying.

With a momentous crash, the burly man cratered into the mountain, stone shattering underneath his bulk. His skin split open, and blood flowed over him, but he didn’t relent. He just laughed, climbed out of the crater, and whispered to himself.

“More,” he said. Mercury heard because of his Skills, but he didn’t have to wait long until the man laughed, and shouted it to the sky.”Fakakaka! More!! More!”

Instantly, he flew into the sky again, the air cracking at his approach. Zyl breathed out a heat haze, smiling softly. He was a bit of a weirdo, too, after all. The two exchanged more brutal blows - bones snapping, then coming right back together as if magnetic. Fire covered Zyl’s body like a host of crawling insects, his wounds disappearing in the wake of the flames.

“Weak,” the dragon said with a smug smile. “You’re weak.”

At that, Gun-Byeong smiled. It was an expression full of happiness, genuine elation at the fact that he was simply allowed to use force. He smiled brightly, and flexed his muscles. Qi roiled from his core, and the deacon’s eyes widened.

“He’s using origin qi,” elder Guleum whispered with awe. “He’s burning his cultivation base.”

“No,” grand elder Yozai shook his head. “He is not burning it - master Gun-Byeong’s cultivation is the Origin Reversal arts. He cultivates origin qi by being true to his base instincts. It is why he fights like that. The less he plans…”

“The more he grows,” Mercury finished. “He’s using Zyl as a whetstone.”

The grand elder nodded solemnly. “Yes,” he said. “Esteemed… aspirant, I suppose, you may have to mourn your boyfriend if you cannot stop the peak master.”

Within the grand elder’s gaze there was a twinkling there. A test. The sly old fox was probing Mercury for the truth, the depth of his strength. But in response, the mopaaw just smiled, crossing his hands behind his back. “Just watch,” he said simply.

Gun-Byeong tore through the sky as nothing but a blur. The clouds scattered around him, blown away like pieces of tissue-paper. He grins, and slams into Zyl with a tackle that almost caves in the dragon’s ribcage.

Origin qi burns from inside his dantian, thunder lacing his steps. With a single blow, the sky turns bright white, searing into Mercury’s eyes and making him go blind for about half a second. Not that he needed eyes to see, but still.

Zyl’s skin was scorched from the lightning bolt. Gun-Byeong stood, panting, his fists clenched, roaring for more, when the dragon’s blackened hand closed around his face. Fire washed forward in an unimpeded tide, wrapping around the Beast’s face. In response to his skin blistering, Gun-Byeong just gave a muffled laugh.

His hands came forward, grabbing onto Zyl’s arm and twisting. In an instant, Zyl’s ligaments tore, and his elbow hung uselessly in the air. Gun-Byeong instantly stepped forward, ignoring the horrific burns, and grabbed the dragon’s face. 

Without hesitation, Zyl bit him, sharp teeth digging into flesh, but the peak master didn’t stop. Like a berserker, he jumped, pushing off his own Qi, and accelerating them both towards the mountain.

“Uh-oh,” the clerk said.

Mercury stood there, waiting. <Magic> activated softly, just a gentle hum to firm up the ground a little.

A very good choice, since the rest of the peak promptly evaporated.

With another horrid crash, stone turned to slag. The peak master slammed Zyl into and right through the mountain, the two of them turning into a violent blur. Stone shards flew towards Mercury, then halted mid-air as his mana moved. 

Twisting one of his zeyjn into the right shape, he beckoned the stone to settle. The shards simply and calmly reintegrated with the stones below, and the terrified deacon pulled his head out of its hiding place behind a plank of scattered wood.

Zyl hung limply in the Beast’s arms, and Gun-Byeong, the master of the peak of Slaughter, had the gall to look sad. Rocks stuck in his flesh, dribbling tiny lines of blood down his skin, and yet, he shook Zyl.

“Hey, come on. Surely that’s not all you got,” he said quietly. 

For a moment, the peak was silent, and yet, Mercury smiled. Very slowly, Zyl’s limp form cracked. His limbs snapped back into place, one by one, and Mercury watched as his fingers regenerated, then wrapped around Gun-Byeong’s arm. This time, heat rolled along them.

This time, there was the sound of burning flesh.

Gun-Byeong’s arm burnt. Zyl’s fingers sank deeper, and pain washed across the peak master’s face. The dragon grabbed right to the other man’s bones. Zyl locked his claws around the bones of the man’s forearm, and then pulled.

Resisting would have only hurt more, so the peak master was forced to go with the motion. Fire and heat spread, and Mercury watched as Zyl tossed him. Again, there was a brutal crack, and more of the mountain evaporated. Aspirants of the peak of Slaughter fled downwards, rocks crumbling in tiny avalanches.

Sighing softly, Mercury drew on more mana, refilling his pool with <Grain of Infinity>, and stopped the landslides, saving the kids. They were all kids to him, even those in their earlier twenties. Gosh, he was over fourty now…

Instead of contemplating that, Mercury watched the fight. The peak master dug himself out of the rubble, his veins bulging and visible against his bronze skin. He grinned, still, even as blood flowed down his face and stained his hair. “More!” he demanded, leaping right back into the sky. “Show me more!!”

Zyl met him fist-on-fist. The shockwaves were enough to almost blow away the deacon, if Mercury didn’t politely hold the man steady. In the blink of an eye, Zyl and Gun-Byeong collided a thousand times, fists and feet snapping out in lightning fast motions.

They brutalized each other.

With resounding cracks, bones broke. Fire and blood flowed in one, and Mercury had trouble telling the difference. Qi poured out in such masses that it stained the air yellow with bestial lightning, that it was hard to tell where the peak master ended and where his techniques begun.

He summoned phantom images of beasts, lightning-maws, claws and fangs forged from his origin qi, reinforced by decades of cultivation and slaughter. He’d bathed in the lifeblood of hundreds to make this, it was his true passion, his burning desire to become a real monster, to kill whoever he wanted whenever he wanted.

And Mercury smiled, because the peak master didn’t know that to be a beast meant to be mindless.

Even now, he wasn’t losing himself. He had a sharp focus on what he wanted. On what was important - even if that was violence. What a silly contradiction. All he could do was imitate beasts. He couldn’t turn his head off and just slaughter, he had to want to slaughter. For any beast, that is never the desired outcome, it is but a matter of course.

Bael had once been a beast. They’d lost themselves to gluttony, a ravenous instinct driving them forward without consideration for health or safety. But the peak master didn’t kill aspirants in his hunger. Even if he wiped out mortals, which he probably did, he couldn’t do so mindlessly.

And that was why Zyl broke him. Because the peak master’s desire, while strong, was contradictory. And Zyl’s desire was so very simple.

To keep Mercury from being hurt.

For that singular purpose, even as Zyl broke, he focused. Even as the peak master lost himself to the violence, Zyl stayed calm and composed. It was a cold, ruthless efficiency with which he went about the butchery. Bones shattered and healed, only to be broken once more. Blood spilled like a waterfall, dyeing the ruined slopes of the mountain red. The elders watched in awe as Zyl kept up with a peak master, as he kept simply moving and burning.

Grand elder Yozai gave Mercury another short glance, decidedly more respectful again. Yet another sneaky test he’d passed… it felt a little gross, but such was the martial world, he supposed. Full of idiots who only listened to strength and violence.

How pathetic.

Zyl won.

It wasn’t an easy fight, but he didn’t don his crown, either. Peak Master Gun-Byeong most likely didn’t exactly go all-out either, but he still lost. It was done when Zyl ripped off his arm, and used it as a club to smack the peak master’s face.

The first hit broke his nose, the second one knocked loose a few teeth, and the third sent the man into brief unconsciousness, which Zyl made good use of.

Suffice to say, by the time the peak master woke back up, he was little more than a misshapen sack of meat. Mercury looked at him with a small frown. “Zyl, I really appreciate the effort, but next time, please leave me more parts to put him back together.”

Giving a sheepish smile, Zyl rubbed the back of his head with one hand, then handed over the torn-off arm with the other. “Here’s… one more piece?” he offered tentatively.

“Urrrrghhh,” Gun-Byeong groaned. His skin was already coming back together, his bones springing back into place. It was like watching a video playing in reverse. Mercury tilted his head faintly, and then shrugged.

“You know what?” he said, pressing the missing arm back against the shoulder joint, and watching ligaments move through the air like snakes. “I think you left me plenty of pieces.” Then, a faint smile crossed his lips, and he turned to the elders. “This might look strange,” he announced to them, “but don’t worry. I’m a doctor, you see?”

Before anyone had a chance to reply, Mercury turned back to his patient and smiled faintly. He whispered a quiet word, the Skill that had absorbed his trusty <Medicine>. 

“<Unravel>.”

And Gun-Byeong came apart.

In front of Mercury, man was made into memory. A book to peruse, pages upon pages of bloodshed and slaughter, and yet ruined. Torn and broken. Threads out of place, like wayward wiring, sparking with electricity.

He breathed, and brushed his will against those wounds, and then mended them. They were already doing so on their own; Mercury just had to nudge them along ever-so-gently. Tiny touches that made reconnecting swifter, easier, that returned the peak master to not just whole but to being healthy. 

And, while he was at it, well, he had no choice but to see what this origin qi cultivation method was about. “Hmmm.” Mercury hummed to himself. “Uh-huh.”

Then, he nodded, and the peak master came back together. The elders stared with horror on their faces. “What in the nine heavens was that?” elder Guleum breathed. 

Grand elder Yozai didn’t even find words to speak. Seeing what Mercury did to people was strange. They didn’t truly turn into threads, after all. They still existed, and yet, most people could only halfway pick up on what he was doing.

In a way, that was pretty eldritch, right? His techniques were like an abyss for people to stare into, and he was changing the very fundamental realities of people as though he was some outer god.

Ew, what a gross thought.

Not the being eldritch part. Mercury was okay with that. But being a god felt icky. Wrong. He was just a guy. Being a person came first, and being a god made that almost impossible.

It just wasn’t for him, he mused. His thoughts were drawn back to reality when peak master Gun-Byeong the beast stirred, rubbing the back of his head. “Uuuurgh,” the old monster said, and Mercury smiled. And waited.

A second later, the bestial man stopped rubbing the back of his head. “Huh?” he asked. “I’m… fine? The hell? How long was I out? Must’ve been days to heal this good.”

Mercury looked at the deacon, and smiled. The officer of admissions on the peak of Slaughter swallowed once, then nodded. “Uhm, about… about a minute, peak master,” he said deferentially.

Gun-Byeong froze and stared. “No way,” he said. “I didn’t get enough levels for that.”

“I healed you,” Mercury provided helpfully. The way he said the word healed apparently wasn’t quite as wholesome as he thought, since both elders and the deacon flinched, and Chung Nam-Cheong took the quiet moment to turn aside and throw up.

Ignoring them, Mercury just held eye contact with the peak master of Slaughter. Gun-Byeong sat upright on the floor, leaning on arms that were as thick as tree trunks, staring up at Mercury. For the first time since showing up, his expression was a bit… pensive. Not drawn from agony, not a brimming violent smile, but careful.

One did not survive the martial world carelessly, after all. With a soft hum, the peak master crossed his arms, still staring at Mercury. The mopaaw didn’t blink, but he did pull a bit of his <Lie> aside. 

For just a moment, the humanity in his form faded. The pristine skin was replaced with fur and ice and wood. The true depth of his eyes laid bare, like the depths of an ocean. Looking at him made even Gun-Byeong shiver. 

There was fear there, even just faint. “You’re no beast,” the peak master muttered quietly.

Mercury smiled brightly at that, then stuck out a hand. “You’re right!” he said, putting the <Lie> and his <Veil> back in place. “I’m not a beast. I’m a perfectly reasonable person.”

With a grunt, Gun-Byeong took his hand, and let himself be pulled up. “Fine,” the middle-aged man said. “You gave me a good fight, redhead. And you, doc. Guess you’re the peak of Slaughter’s first physician.” With a dismissive wave, he turned away. “Call yourself whatever you want.”

“Teach me your origin qi arts,” Mercury asked with a smile.

Gun-Byeong blinked. Grand elder Yozai gasped in shock. Elder Guleum held her breath, and Chung almost passed out on the spot.

“If you wish to be my disciple,” the peak master said with a twitch of his eye, “you better kowtow to me nine times.”

Mercury laughed. “I’d rather put a bullet in my skull,” he said.

“The fuck’s a bullet?” Gun-Byeong asked.

There was some humor in that, Mercury found.

- - -

In the end, as a disciple of Slaughter, Mercury had a few privileges. There were contribution points - and he earned quite a few just by putting a good bit of the mountain back together. Usually, the cult’s earth-affinity cultivators would need to be brought in for it, but with his new <Magic>, he simply asked the rock to move, and it did.

He also got a small hut, which was promptly turned into a mini hospital halfway up to the peak. And the amount of kids he had coming in within the first few hours was… he’d love to say surprising, but that was a lie. But there were many.

“Malnutrition,” he diagnosed cooly. “Eat something with more protein. Tofu or seitan if you don’t like meat. Next.” A new scrawny girl. Mercury frowned. He would have asked her to open her mouth to see her teeth, but he didn’t need that. He could already see through her. “Scurvy,” he said calmly. “Eat an orange or three. Next.”

A boy with broken legs. A girl with three stab wounds. A boy missing two fingers, which came in with a girl whose eye had a shiv in it. Mercury dulled their pain, healed them, then sent them on their way again.

In a single day, fifty youths came in, half of them with broken limbs or worse. It was a terrible thing, and he made the elders sit through it all with him. “Is this what you expect of your aspirants?” he asked quietly.

“Those who do not make it are unworthy,” grand elder Yozai provided with all the security of a tissue caught in a storm.

“Those who make it got lucky,” Mercury said with a frown. “Yes, they will be more vicious and cruel. Because they’ll be traumatized. It is the duty of us elders to give the kids a better life.”

“Suffering builds character,” elder Guleum suggested.

With a scoff, Mercury shook his head. “This will only make me angry. No, suffering doesn’t build anything. It breaks. Is that what you want your cult to be? A place where broken people go to get broken all over again? Where the lost go and throw themselves at a wall in hopes of maybe getting revenge? Pathetic.”

Saying so, he stood, then frowned and waved his hand. “Both of you, go.”

It would have been ridiculous to any onlooker. A newly entered disciple, wearing robes of grey stormclouds, brushing off elders and grand elders… and yet, that was what happened. Yozai and Guleum didn’t even protest. They just… left.

“What peak are you part of, Chung?” he asked the boy.

Chung Nam-Cheong, who had met Mercury in his guard duty, frowned slightly. “The peak of Broken Balance, why?”

“Is it better than this?”

“Yes,” the boy provided. “I think it is.”

“Show me,” Mercury asked.

Chung Nam-Cheong looked at the bloodstained beds, at the kids who sat there crying over their reattached fingers, and swallowed drily. “Yes,” he said. “I will.”

Magic Breaker Ch 52-54

Chapter 52: Surviving

/I was there. I saw Ion get burnt alive by Respitia’s Paladin. Fuck, what a sight it was. The rookie wasn’t even past level 20 yet, y’know? And got roasted by someone over the third threshold. Brutal.

The smite was so strong that the ground cracked. It would’ve killed me. But Ion? Nah. That monster’s a different breed. You shoulda been there. Seen those eyes. 

No, I know Ion will be back. And I think it’s a real good idea to keep away from the church of Respitia. No amount of healing can buy your life back when the little Magic Breaker comes for you./

-Leonard Zurok, lv. 29 climber

- - - 

Two days later, and I’m walking again. It takes another day until I’m healed enough to consider myself “healthy”. It’s given other humans time to catch up… but I don’t think the tower compares us. Not in that way, at least. Otherwise, I should’ve gotten more for reaching level 10 in [Suppression].

Why do I think so? 

No one else in the party has a skill at level 10. Not any of the aliens, not any of the humans, not even Sylves, even though her affinity with her class is probably insane. There’s probably some kind of bottleneck before specific milestone levels, and, well, ten is the most obvious one, if the wider universe uses a decimal based system.

I breathe. 

It’s okay. Having to pour all my mana into healing is just fine. I don’t mind at all. 

At least my eye is mostly better, though it heals far slower than the rest of my body. I think that the lovely Eye’s avatar that branded me probably added something to make it take longer to heal. It hurts, but I can deal with that. So what if I’m in pain? Nothing new. 

What are my immediate objectives? 

Revenge. That [Darkbreaker] is gonna get it. Then, of course, healing Sylves’ arm. Maybe I messed up the order of those two, but it’s okay. Learning more magic is another one. Climbing higher. Messing up the plans of some of the Eyes that annoyed me. 

I look forward.

[Cave Crawler lv. 13]

The thing is already pathetically weak compared to me. My mana roils, and for the first time in days, I get to cast something that isn’t focussed on healing. [Selection] latches onto it, and [Suppression] flows along the link like a slick rope of oil. The bug stops screeching, suddenly unable to move. 

I stab a knife through its head. Well, what seems to be its head. It thrashed, but after a second stab, stops.

[You have killed a lv. 13 Cave Crawler]

Dar looks at me. “The way you fight is terrifying,” he says. 

“Sure,” I reply. Says the wulven warrior made from muscle and wild ferocity. 

He gives me a long look, then smiles a feral smile. “Can your skill make someone stronger, too?” 

I tilt my head, just a little. Have they caught on? Do they know that the duel was, perhaps, not entirely legitimate? “What if it can?” I ask.

Dar’s grin grows wider. “Use it on me,” he says. “I wish to know what it feels like.”

For a few moments, I consider it. Long enough for them to kill another bug. They’re big and aggressive, which is sad. I like bugs, usually. Just maybe not this close to me, when they want to bite my face off. “Alright,” I eventually say, and [Selection] reaches the wulven.

Something flows back towards me. A bit of power, of intent, of strength. I tilt my head. “What’s that?” I ask.

“... [Blooded],” Dar answers. He’s quiet about it. Quieter than usual. “It seems our skills interact.”

“What does it do?” I asked.

Dar breathes, drawing in a heaving of air, then pushing it out. “Many things. It lets me recognize my blood-siblings, like Opal. It lets me get a glimpse of who they are. Of the vow we’ve made.” His eyes shake a little.

“You’re scared of me,” I note.

A barking laugh escapes his throat. “Yes,” he rumbles. “Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

“I refuse to tell you,” Dar says.

A small smile blossoms on my face. “You’re silly,” I say. Then, gently, I reach out with [Suppression]. “My first skill is a targeting ability. It’s generally really sneaky, but apparently, there’s a bit more to it than just targeting.”

The wulven shivers for just a brief moment. “Apparently,” he murmurs.

“This second skill,” I explain, “is what I can use to affect someone’s capabilities.” I reach out, and cast it. My skill impacts their skin, unfurling like a lotus flower, and blossoms. I can see it better now that I’ve had so much time to practice my mana sense. At least the healing was good for that. 

When it applies, I [Suppress] Dar’s fear, their hesitation, and even try to target their weakness.

A moment passes, and I can feel the wulven’s heart beat. A side effect of [Blooded], maybe? It lets me tell a lot about him, and some of those emotions bleed through. Battle lust. Fearlessness.

He looks at me and the tension has bled from his face. “This is good,” he growls. “Better than I anticipated. I feel more ready for bloodshed, more prepared. Do keep it active, companion of Opal.”

“Even if I need to keep the targeting spell, too?” I ask.

Reluctantly, Dar nods. “I cannot feel my fear right now. So it is of no matter.”

I smile and nod, then push deeper into the caverns with the wulven. There are bugs to clear.

- - -

After a day of hunting, we return to the others in the camp. I was out with Dar, the others also splitting into groups. Since the wulven is still getting more of a benefit from hunting than I am, I instead focus on using every ounce of mana I have, acting as a support and practicing.

It’s kinda fun. I push [Solidification] by creating a little sphere of mana, then changing its shape back and forth. A needle, a tiny rubber ducky, a javelin, a cube, a sphere, tetrahedron, octahedron… So on and so forth. When that gets boring, I heal my skin a little, and when I’m low on mana, I trace the inscriptions on the mana maze.

That’s what I’m doing now, too. The others sit and eat, while I trace those runes, over and over. They’re an array, I’m sure by now. Half of them act as little levers and conditionals, establishing zones where mana is harder to control - zones I’ve not even reached yet, deeper inside the cube. Some others work to make it durable, and some others ensure it remains stable and able to dissipate anything inside it.

The thing is a marvel of engineering, and I’m so pleased with it. What a good investment.

Another day passes. I practice. Every moment I have, there’s an orb hovering above my hand, slowly changing shape. Healing my eye feels weird, my skin crawling across my skull. The others hate seeing it, so I only do it when they’re asleep. But we survive. We grow.

[Inscription 3 > 4]

[Flesh Restoration 4 > 5]

It’s routine. A slow one, but we live. It gets a little more exciting when the first bounty hunters find us.

Chapter 53: Hunted

Thatch spots them first. Sees them through the darkness with that ocular skill of his. I kinda wanna steal it, but I also know it doesn’t quite suit me. That thought gets discarded when he holds up a hand. “Someone’s approaching us,” he says.

It can’t be the sumeen party. Paulino left us a while ago, taking their earth mage with him. They haven’t visited us, even once, and their debt to us is more than repaid. No, I’m pretty sure this is someone else.

Gently, the orb at my side becomes a long needle. “How many?” I ask.

He narrows his eyes some. “Hard to tell,” he says. “At this distance, the shapes blend into each other. Four at least, maybe six.”

Something tells me they don’t mean well.

Wait.

Something tells me?

Yeah right. I focus in on that sense, on that distant tingling. It’s on my skin, the same way my mana prickled when the blob of darkness snuck under my skin. The same way it tickled just before the arrow hit Inu. And I find something.

Mana is prickling against my skin. Tiny bits of it, poking me. Giving me just a little bit of intel, a vague sense of foreboding. It’s unreliable. It’s janky. But it’s undeniably real.

“Snow,” Sylves hisses. 

Right. Something to investigate, just not right now. I focus. “Yeah,” I say. “Bad news. I don’t think this is gonna be pleasant.”

Thatch looks at me and nods. “Yeah, agreed.” 

“Wait,” Opal says. “How do you know?”

“[Piercing Gaze] doesn’t say what I can and can’t pierce,” he says, then shrugs. “So, I pierced their intentions. They’re bad, for reference.”

Norman snorts. “You’re all ridiculous,” he says.

“Your skill made me forget you were there at all,” Richard notes. “Stealthy human.” 

Inu knocks against her armor, resonance ringing through it. “Focus,” she says. “What do we do?”

I blink. “We kill them,” I say. It should be obvious, no?

“What if they’re high level?” Norman asks. 

“... We kill them?” I suggest. 

Dar laughs at that, though I suppress the sound from a bellow to a quiet laugh. “Opal’s friend is right,” the wulven says. “We fight. We kill. That is all there is to it.”

“We should set a trap,” Bay says. 

I look at her, curious. “How?”

She gives me a sheepish smile, then rummages around in a pack. “I got bombs.”

At that, everyone goes quiet for a moment. I smile. How wonderful. “Let’s do it.”

- - -

Liam had been a bounty hunter for about three years. He was decent at his job, though not infallible. His skills were focussed on tracking prey, on identifying tracks, new and old. He didn’t know why the church of Respitia was paying out so much to kill a rookie, and he frankly didn’t care.

Knowing why wasn’t his job. He just brought the boys to the playing field. They snuck through the tunnels, making sure to be quiet. Rookies were usually easy targets, in that they barely knew what their skills did. Most would have gained their class just before ascending, if at all. 

That was why he felt comfortable taking the job. Hunting sapients was dangerous business, after all, with their unpredictable abilities, but rookies usually had just three. Maybe four, if they got lucky or creative. 

He held out a hand. “Stop,” he said. 

Something twinged at his wings. His [Sixth Sense] was going off, but he couldn’t see anything in the tunnel. Slowly, he turned to their scout. “See anything, Leah?”

The woman squinted, looking at the tunnel ahead. Then, slowly, she shook her head. “Nuffin’”, she said, her wings relaxing slightly.

Liam breathed. Slowly relaxing, looking at the traces on the ground. They’d been through the area a few times, but not recently. And yet… was it just him, or did it smell like wet dog? 

His [Sixth Sense] flared, but he ignored the skill. His attention slipped off it. What was he so worried about anyway? The alarm bells, usually so useful, quieted down to almost nothing, really just like the background noise of the caverns.

He relaxed, and walked forward. Then the floor exploded and tore his foot off.

- - -

Dar releases his hold on [Inertia], and suddenly, gravity pulls on him again. His claws come undone from the ceiling of the cavern, and he crashes down on the attentive woman that had almost spotted him. 

Norman falls with the wolf, releasing a graceless screech. The man had been clinging to Dar with all he had, and the warrior was glad to finally be free again. But, he had to give credit where it was due. The woman lost her sight on them only because of [Unassuming].

Now, she would pay.

Opal blinks to his side, and in one smooth motion, they tear into the backline of the bounty hunters. Dar tackles the scouting woman to the ground, instantly tearing into her. She swings back, but her fist comes into a barrier of [Protection] and the bow on her back snaps as Dar’s claws rend her flesh.

His blood-sibling slashes their sword, keeping another attacker at bay, and then, a silent wind descends in the cavern. Another explosion rocks it, but the noise is quieted by Sylves, and Dar is able to easily keep going. Amelie’s puppets join the fight, and the hunters are outnumbered.

“No one told us there’d be so many of them!” one screams, finding only pain and grunts as a reply.

A battlefield was no place to lazily speak, and Dar punishes the man for the mistake, tearing into his back in a moment of respite. The woman tries to rise from the ground, but Snow’s spell slams her right back down. One of the hunters raises her hands, and fire gathers, only for Richard to swallow it up. 

And then, all around, the hunters’ skills start failing. 

Dar smiles. It was time to bleed them.

- - -

I stand at the back of our group, at the far back with Sylves, managing the battlefield like I’m directing an orchestra. Skills fail, important attacks are weakened, a floating dagger of mana stabs someone’s leg… the usual. 

My friends all fight. It’s messy, it’s brutal, and they get in each other’s way, but that’s okay. They still manage. Richard focuses on a mage. Opal and Thatch take on a dagger wielder together. Inu helps Dar wail on a woman that looks like an archer. I break the tracker’s [Sixth Sense], just as Bay lobs another bomb at him. Jess freezes him in place before he can scramble away.

Then, their rogue slips a dagger between my ribs.

Chapter 54: Stabbed

It burns with acid and venom as it bites into my skin. I look at where the knife came from and find… nothing.

“Hey,” I announce to Sylves and Amelie. “I’ve been stabbed. I’ll be doing something about it.”

Instantly, I stop helping the frontline, and instead deploy my field of [Suppression]. It crashes down into the rock with gravity, stopping Sylves from floating, pressing Amelie into her wheelchair. I don’t have the luxury of excluding them. 

My side stings. It burns and melts. It hurts. I look around, trying to find a hint of the rogue, but there’s nothing.

Another stab, this one into my lower back. I whip out to grab a wrist, anything, but come up empty again. I feel my flesh dissolve. My eyes narrow. The field thins, smaller but heavier. Mana pours into the skill, weighing down anyone, anything approaching me. 

I get stabbed in the shoulder. Damn it. Not strong enough. I draw the field even tighter.

[Suppression 10 > 11]

It’s not enough. The slash lands on my ankle, and my leg buckles. I am sent to the floor, kneeling. But my field holds. I feel a tingle of heavy, slowed mana leak from the wound. 

My mind whips at it, and I take hold of it. It’s inside my body, so it’s enough. [Selection] lands on my wound, from there, latches onto the tendril of mana, and traces it back to a target. 

[Selection 8 > 9]

I look in the direction of the rogue, kneeling. They’re a blur to my magical senses, and invisible to my eyes. “Opal!” I yell, and then reach out.

My skills form a brutal chain of effects. First, [Selection] lets me target them, find them. [Suppression] comes down like a hammer, slowing the rogue, slowing their abilities, dragging them down. Then comes [Solidification], a needle of mana driven into their leg when they don’t pay attention, exploding and messing with their skills. Finally, when they’re disrupted, I pull on my new knowledge, and [Deconstruct] the rogue’s magic.

Effect after effect, I find, analyse, weaken, and then break the skill.

The magic shatters.

All of a sudden, the rogue is just standing there, blinking, confused. The invisibility is broken, and suppression hammers in even harder. They try to move, but I break that skill, too.

[Deconstruction 7 > 8]

[Class up! Nullmage 0 > 1]

Then Opal appears in a blink, and stabs a sword through their chest. Their wings stop beating, settling on the ground as their heart is pierced, 

[Level up! 22 > 23]

I begin to focus my efforts on the poison and acid currently working its way through me.

First, I [Suppress] the effects, pouring more mana into my skill. Then, I rip off bits of my shirt - which means I’ll need a new one yet again, dang it - trying to wipe away as much of the horrid stuff as I can, smearing the fabric with blood and goop. It burns my fingers, too, but I’ll live.

Then, I use [Flesh Restoration], leaning on the system a bit, but fueling it with enough mana to kill me, focussed entirely on purging the venom.

A surge of vitality passes through me as my mana gets converted, the new points in vessel from my class level already proving valuable. “Level?” I ask Opal.

“Thirty-one,” they reply, then blink back to the scramble of frontliners.

That’s… high, but not impossibly high. Enough to counter with a combo of my skills, apparently. I vomit a good mouthful of blood.

Okay, maybe not completely counter.

But it’s enough. I breathe, slowly, the sensation of my heart thrumming against my chest uncomfortably exhausting me as strength pours out of me and into healing. I’ll need a big meal after this. That’s okay, though. There’s something more important to do first.

Loot the bodies.

- - -

In the end, there are only two enchanted items among the bounty hunters. A waterskin that purifies even the nastiest stuff poured into it into drinkable water and can hold about twice as much as it looks like it should, for one. That one’s valuable and we want to keep it, so it is immediately taken away from me and safekept by Inu.

Shame. It would have been interesting to take it apart.

The other is a stone. It looks like a compass, with a needle that points at something near us. Probably the city, given the direction.

We decide there is a good chance it might be transmitting our location to whatever guild the bounty hunters belonged to. Everyone decides we should break it, so I get to trace the runes, then try to modify them to practice. 

[Inscription 4 > 5]

It goes poorly. As I pour mana into the modified version, some mistakes light up and blow up in my face, showering me in a minor debris of mana shards. Nothing major, But it makes my mana go haywire for a moment, and gives me a horribly tight feeling around my heart for a moment. A little like heartburn.

Slowly, bit by bit, I’m figuring out runes. Whenever I have time, I still trace the ones on my phial, slowly making sure I remember them all. I also analyze the bits of the sensory skill of the tracker I broke, and the stealth one from the rogue.

There’s a decent amount of overlap between the rogue’s skill and whatever shadow aspected ability that I broke before befriending Kuro. 

But, of course, a lot of my mana goes to healing our frontliners. Dar, especially, took a couple of nasty blows, and Norman got stabbed once. Inu’s tough, so the wounds she did receive are a lot more shallow, but I heal her, too.

We eat. It helps me feel less weak, and returns the feeling to my hands and feet, which’ve been all pins and needles from the poison. It’s nice to be able to hold a spoon again without using mana. “Where did we get the spoons?” I ask.

“I had Norman take them,” Jess supplies calmly. “From the inn, where we stayed at? A couple plates, bowls, pots and pans go a long way in the wild.”

Her husband looks a little ashamed at it, but I just smile. “Good call.”

Somehow that makes Norman feel more ashamed. “I’m a thief,” he mourns into his hands. “I never thought I’d be a thief.”

“And we’re eating better for it,” Richard says. “I, for one, think we should steal more!”

I smile at her, too. She’s absolutely right. Stealing is the best.

Magic Breaker Ch 49-51

Chapter 49: Alive

PoV: Snow Okiyama - Ion

I wake up. 

My good eye opens, and yet I can’t see. Is it dark? Am I blind from the radiance? Still, I remember the message seared into my eyes.

[Darkbreaker, lv. 52]

A sharp breath enters my lungs, and then, finally, the pain sets in. 

My skin, all of it, hurts and aches. Every movement pulls at it, sending itchy spirals of hurt through me. It’s a horrible feeling, but I don’t [Suppress] it, not yet. There is something more important.

Instead of pushing the hurt aside, I address it. I cast [Flesh Restoration]. The spell ripples out of my core, and it is seemingly more effective when applied to myself than anyone else. Power crawls through my veins, and begins to address damages.

The light seared my insides. My lungs are scorched, damaged in ways I didn’t even know were a thing. But they heal. Second by second, I pour a stream of mana into it, and my skin starts to itch horribly. It flakes and itches, half formed scabs beginning to flake off. It almost makes me wanna stop the spell. I hate the feeling, but I keep going.

[Flesh Restoration 3 > 4]

Apparently, the sheer amount of things that need fixing in my body are enough for the skill to level. Slowly, I empty out my entire vessel of mana. When I’m done, my vision is back, if bleary. It’s dark. I don’t know where we are. Did we end up caught?

“Inu?” I whisper. “Thatch? Opal? … Sylves?” I hesitate before the last one, knowing my friend was passed out from blood loss. Maybe she is up again. How long was I out? 

Shuffling near me. “Snow?” The voice is familiar. Inu. She’s alive, and close by, which is good. 

“Yes,” I croak. My throat is somewhat healed, but still feels raw and scratchy. Words are a pain to get out, but I still do so. “What happened?”

Inu shifts into my field of vision, looking down at my open eye. The other one is still a bloody mess, and now, I have more injuries to heal before I can properly address it. Ahhh, what a pain. I wanted to start on trying to modify my body to be stronger. 

“You’re awake,” she says. Something wet drips on my cheek. “You’re awake. Oh, thank goodness.”

I breathe a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” I croak. It aches, it scratches, but that’s okay. Inu needs to hear it. “I’m okay.”

“We’re in the tunnels. The sumeen dropped us off. Paulino said… they said it was repayment for what you told them about our species,” she says. Her voice quivers. She’s speaking just barely above a whisper.

Paulino is a lying rat. But, in this case, I don’t mind it. My lips stretch into a smile, even as my skin protests and cracks. “Generous of them,” I say. They didn’t do it because of what I told them, they did it because they’re decent people. I probably owe them, just a bit. A small sigh leaves my lips. “What now?”

“Opal, Bay and mom are out hunting. My mom, ah, Jess. She got offered a job, by now. Butcher. She can make mostly palatable cuts of meat from the insects,” Inu explains. 

“Hmmm,” I hum. The noise comes easier than the others I’ve made. Jess is proving to be rather reliable, isn’t she? That’s nice. As my mana has regenerated just a smidge, I trigger my healing spell again, focussing on my eye. Inu’s dark figure pulls into view a little more. 

“How did you survive the fall?” Inu asks. “When the floor cracked, you fell on your back. Your spine should have snapped, it…”

“It didn’t,” I say. “Partially because of my stats, and partially because of… Kuro,” I say.

“Kuro?” she asks.

I smile, just a little. “The shadow parasite under my skin. We’re a team, now. It gets to eat whenever I wreck myself, and in exchange for letting it drink my blood… well, I suppose it stops me from dying to fall damage,” I say, and a hacking cough comes from my throat.

And then, I just can’t stop laughing. It’s hilarious. It hurts so bad, but I just can’t stop. “Hahaha. Haha! Hahahahaha!” 

Another wet drop hits my face, but I can see Inu’s lips twisting into a smile, illuminated by the faint glow of… mushrooms, probably. “You idiot,” she says. “What’s so fucking funny, huh?”

“That I’m alive,” I moan, even more hoarsely now. “It’s happening again, isn’t it? Like every time. They want me to fail. But I won’t.”

Inu smiles, wide, fully, as more tears drop onto my skin. They burn faintly, but they’re also pleasantly cool. I don’t bother complaining. “Yeah,” she says. Slowly, her gaze trails upwards. “We’ll show them.”

For a little moment, we’re silent, matched in our determination to survive. Then, somewhat awkwardly, Thatch shuffles towards me. “Hey Snow,” he says.

“Heya, handsome stranger. Who might you be?” I ask.

Briefly, horror flashes on his face. Then, it’s replaced by a laugh. “You idiot,” he says, crying too. “Fuck. Don’t… don’t do that!” He doesn’t sound all that upset, though. Quickly, he wipes his eyes. “Ugh. Dummy. Here,” he holds a phial against my lips. “You need to drink.”

With his assistance, I manage to get some water into my throat. It tastes of iron and ash and triumph. I live. They tried to kill me when they couldn’t capture me, but I escaped. I’m alive. A long moment passes after the water. “Do we know who attacked us?” I ask.

Thatch nods. “Yeah. Paulino told us. Paladin of Respitia. Philia, the darkbreaker.” 

It’s her. It’s definitely her. With that alias? There is no doubt. “That’s the one. The one that made the pillar.”

Inu tenses. For a moment, I feel a spike of mana and fury from Thatch. Then, all at once, the two share a look and settle back down. “She’s dead,” Inu whispers.

I nod, and Thatch does so, too. There is no doubt. She’s signed her death warrant, already. All we need are more levels. To twist the odds in our favour. I pour more mana into my healing spell, mending my throat a bit to make speaking easier. “Hey. Can you try to push your mana into the mana core in my backpack?” I ask.

At my request, Thatch smiles. “Way ahead of you,” he says, pressing it into my hand. The light in our little cave shifts. It wasn’t glowing fungus - it was the core, filled to the brim. 

“Before you devour that mana we so graciously present you,” Amelie joins in, “perhaps we can interest you in engaging with the need for sustenance most humans share?”

Oh, right. Food. I feel hungry. Very hungry. My healing spell probably converts a good chunk of mana to flesh, but it’s not high level enough yet to use only mana. Instead, it probably eats into my fat reserves a good bit, converting all that stored energy into more skin. So, I get to be fed by Thatch too, having him nurse me back to health. He takes care not to touch me. Both out of respect, and because my skin is raw and blistered.

Only once I’ve eaten a full plate, and my hunger settles down a little do I absorb the mana from the core, filling my vessel to halfway full. I hand the gem back to the others, to be filled again. Amelie and Richard seem to be doing the lion’s share of the donating, and I appreciate that.

The hiy’ht also occasionally saunters over to me and siphons some of the heat coming off my body, cooling me down. She sucks in big gulps of hot air, drawing out more streams of warmth with some kind of special skill. Then, she gives a small burp. 

My skin knits closed some more. After eating, drinking, talking, and healing, I feel rather tired. “I’m going to sleep,” I tell the others. “Let me know if something happens.

Chapter 50: Healing

The next time I wake, it’s because of the noise of fighting.

Chitin breaks against the blows of my companions, and then rises again as puppets of Amelie. She can control five of them, now, much more than at the start. By now, I wonder if the dreadarmor she controls is stronger than it was back at the dungeon.

Slowly, blearily, I blink. I’m alive. My mana is full. I cast [Suppression] - and then Bay pokes me in the side, making me wince, interfering with the skill. “Don’t waste your mana,” she says slowly. “You need it, Snow.”

“... Right,” I say. Amusing, isn’t it? That my first thought, while laying on the floor in a soupy heap of blood and pus, my first thought is to debuff our enemies. Well, I suppose [Suppression] is what I’ve been doing all my life, so it’s no real surprise.

More mana flows into healing me, my entire vessel emptied, and that pressure against my sternum disappears. I breathe a little easier, then pull more mana into me from the glowing core in my body. And then I heal some more.

The fighting dies down. I get fed again, and today, I can even move my arm a little. It still shakes too much to get the spoon in my mouth, so Opal does it. 

I look at them. “Mention the aeroplane once and I will get upset,” I warn them.

“The train-”

“Opal.”

“Right, right,” they say, then give a soft laugh, scratching the back of their head. “Sorry. Here, silly Snow. Eat.” And, miraculously, for once, they manage to do something without cracking a quip every five seconds. Truly, I am impressed.

This time, I am also wise enough to check my notifications.

[Level up! 19 > 22]

[Class up! Deconstructor 9 > 10]

[Job Up! Enchanter 5 > 7]

The world was watching. And it saw me survive. It saw me… well, triumph is a strong word, but at the end of the day, that is what happened. I have nine stat points to allocate. With a heavy consciousness, I place three in heart. It hurts my soul, but it nourishes my body, and more of my wounds vanish.

I still have six more, though. And since I have a healing spell, well, more mana is almost as good as more health, right? Probably. Surely. I place six points in vessel. Then, I call up my status.

Name: Snow Okiyama - Ion

Floor: 1

Class: <Deconstructor> - 10

Job: <Enchanter> - 7

Lv. 22

Heart: 20

Power: 6

Vessel: 74

Skills:

• [Suppression lv. 10]

• [Selection lv. 8]

• [Solidification lv. 6]

• [Deconstruction lv. 7]

• [Inscription lv. 3]

• [Flesh Restoration lv. 4]

Okay. I’ve gotten a few natural points, too. If my calculations are right, that’s… three natural in heart, one in power, and two in vessel. A small smile spreads on my face. That’s rather wonderful.

With the points allocated, I also spend a little bit of mana on healing. And, for the first time in a few days, I get to see from my left eye. It’s sticky, and blurry, and it makes a disgusting squelching noise every time I blink, but I do see from it, just a little. How charming.

Then, there are only two more notifications.

[You have caught the Eye of the Embrace.]

It’s ominous, and it feels different from the others. I know the others. Creeping Darkness is a bit petty, the Master of Suffering a bit of a jerk, the Manipulator trying to sabotage me, and so on… but none of them are like this.

None of them are heavy.

When I read the message, I feel a weight on my chest. Like someone pressing down on me, as if I dove too deep in a pool. It presses against my ears, against my ribs, and it tries to force the breath from my lungs. It’s heavy, unbelievably heavy. Withering, gnawing, rotting, welcoming.

There’s no need to repeat the message. I know exactly what the Embrace is about. And I know why it watches me, too. I just don’t know its end goal.

[The Creeping Darkness tells all the others it was there first!]

[The Master of Suffering laughs at the display. It, for one, welcomes the Embrace.]

A few more notifications pop up, but I wave my fingers through them, dispelling them into clouds of stardust. They don’t matter. I pause. I waved my fingers through them. I raise my arm in front of me.

My skin looks… well, it’s hard to tell, with poor eyesight and dim light, but it looks much better than it did. I smile, just a bit. A little longer. All I need to do is wait a little longer. A day? Two? Three? Then I can go back to using my mana for useful things, like practice. I cannot let the other humans pull ahead of me.

Finally, just one more thing to focus on.

[Congratulations!]

[You have raised your first skill to level 10. For your exemplary performance, you have acquired 1 class change voucher.]

[Congratulations!]

[You have reached level 10 in your first class. To continue advancing, change your class with a voucher or via tithe. Additional details will be revealed. Brace.]

More information pours into me, making my head pound. Changing one’s class and job isn’t simple, not at all. Earning vouchers to advance is usually done by sacrificing requests. A voucher is worth about three minor requests, though that changes depending on the class. Tithe, on the other hand, is different.

It consists of completing quests for the tower itself. Effectively, hunting down people that there are bounties on, cleaning infestations, dealing with… rifts? Going through dungeons, bringing back interesting materials, or demonstrating outstanding prowess.

The most common versions of tithe are advancement achievements and tribulations. The first is doing something so exemplary that you are permitted to move on, having shown full mastery of your class. I could have done that had I [Deconstructed] the charging spell, or bits of the pillar, maybe.

Tribulations are the other common method. Those are a petition to the tower itself - a declaration that you are either worthy or deserve to be struck down. You will be presented a challenge to earn your advancement.

For my first class change, I am spared this trouble. Instead, I trigger the voucher, and the options pour out in front of me.

Chapter 51: New Class

[Class Options: <Analyst>, <Sorcerer>, [New!] <Moonlit Dervish>, [New!] <Vesselsmith>, [New!] <Healer>, [New!] <Deathseer>, [New!] <Nullmage>, [New!] <Gloomsoul (sponsored)>, [New!] <Styxstrider (sponsored)>]

I draw in a breath through my teeth. Those are more options than I had the first time. A few are still hidden, mainly sponsored ones that wouldn’t be beneficial to me. There are classes offered by everyone who is keeping an Eye on me. Do they… have to offer a sponsored class?

They probably do. That makes sense. The only ones to pop up, though, are just two sponsored ones. I suspect that gloomsoul is linked to the Creeping Darkness, and something better than it offered last time. It seems fond of me. Funny how that works.

Why didn’t the Master of Suffering offer me something decent this time, I wonder? Actually, no, I don’t wonder. He wants to see me suffer. But it’s not just that… he’s clever. Yeah, he is. His offer is neither good nor bad, because he knows I won’t take it, so he’s not wasting my time. I smirk. Good.

The other sponsored option feels heavy. Styx. That was the river of the dead, wasn’t it? Yeah. I know who this one is from. And, no, I’m not interested.

Analyst and sorcerer carry over from my first choice, though debuffer is gone. I suspect it’s included in one of the new classes. The dervish is from the essence I stole from Sylves, essence I’m still digesting, and don’t want to rely on. Vesselsmith sounds like it’d be focused around giving myself as much mana as possible… ah, that one sounds tempting. Really, really tempting. I kind of want it. 

But then there’s deathseer. A class I earned myself, from a brush that was just a little too close. I smile at it, then wave it aside. No, that’s not who I am. And, of course, the humble healer. Tempting, but no. 

Finally, <Nullmage>. 

A smile creeps onto my face. Yeah, I think I know exactly where my debuffer class went. Into there. Into the evolution of what I’m currently using. Something that specializes in picking apart other people’s abilities. And that’s what makes it different from all the others.

It promises that I’ll be able to fulfill my curiosity. Not just about the few questions that the class pertains to, but any of them, if I work hard enough. A small smile spreads on my face. I pick it.

[Class gained: <Nullmage>]

[Stat bonuses: +1 > +3 Vessel per level ]

[Experience modules: Deconstruction, Disruption]

And there, on my status, it stays.

<Nullmage> - 0 (II)

It’s denominated as my second class. In fact, now that I know these denominations exist, I’m pretty sure that anthropologist was also Paulino’s second job. He took it above level 10, after all. 

I keep all the stats from my first class, and the bonuses are increased, now. I wonder how high I gotta take this one before it evolves again. How exciting. Now, there’s just one more thing I wanna know - what’s my acquisition bonus?

[Essence Bestowed: Breaking Magic.]

As an enchanter, I got an essence package. This class could have granted me a new skill, maybe upgraded one I had or fused them… but I almost prefer this. The essence isn’t absolute, it doesn’t control me. It just feels like a guidebook I can open in my mental library. 

The pour turns into a trickle, but it doesn’t abate. It feels like my class is constantly feeding me new information on how to perceive and interact with mana, how typical structures look like, and how to take them apart. It sharpens my senses, and my intuition.

A small, content sigh escapes my lips. I may be hurt, may be bleeding out, but this? It’s satisfying. Despite everything, it feels worth it. Ah, except for that one small tragedy. The fact that I need to use my mana to heal myself instead of using it with my class.

Oh well. It can wait. Just a few more days. A few more days is all I need. Then, I’ll be back in full swing. To keep busy while awake, I trace the runes on my mana maze. It’s a strong training tool, and there’s some greater secret it’s trying to teach me. I just gotta find it.

No rest for the wicked. A few more days, then I could rest even less.

- - -

I wake up to a scream.

It’s not my own, though. It’s Sylves. “My arm?!” she screams.

Ah. Yeah, that’s probably fair. The others swarm around her, like bees, trying to see her first. Oh, she’s hyperventilating. I feel Inu reach out with [Empathy], and since I just woke up, I help a little. 

[Suppression] brushes against Sylves and very gently weighs her down, physically, like a blanket. I also apply it to her panic, just a tiny bit, more to create distance between her and the emotion than anything else. 

Sylves looks at me. Her eyes are open wide, and she wiggles her stump. Ah. She can tell what I’m doing. “My arm,” she whispers. “What… my arm. My arm. Fuck. Fuck!” It makes everyone else shut up.

“Yeah,” I say into the silence. “We’re both in kinda shitty shape.” The girl swallows heavily in reply to my statement, but she nods. I give her a faint, gentle smile. “But we’re alive.”

At that, she leans back. For a long moment, she’s quiet, staring at the ceiling of the cave. When she talks, it’s shaky, quiet, and tragic. “Yeah,” she says, her voice quivering with a broken heart. “I’m… alive.”

I wish I could say that it hurt, that I feel terrible seeing her like that, that it breaks my heart. I want to say that, but I don’t want to be a liar, either. At the end of the day, I’m happy she’s alive, and that is the truth. Surely. Surely. It must be.

She breathes again. “Thanks, Snow. You’re… disarming.” The laugh she gives at the end of that is a pale, cracking imitation of her usual cheer, that breaks into sobs halfway through. Opal looks to the side, grimacing. Did they want to make the joke? Probably, though it must also just be hard to hear Sylves cry.

“Hey,” I speak quietly. “You’re a fairy now, right?” I ask.

Her crying hitches. She turns to me, face messy with tears. “Y-yeah?”

“How many arms do fairies have?” I ask.

Sylves blinks at me, then breaks into a pitiful, shaky smile. “I dunno. How many?”

Oh shit. Pressure’s on. “One for each deal they shake on, right?”

Gently, the smile grows a bit more honest. “Right. I’ll… make more deals. Yeah. That’s what fae do.” Her stump wriggles as she tries to jerk her elbow in a victorious pose. She pauses, for a long moment, then instead turns to her left arm, and makes a celebratory fist with that one. 

No one talks, and she takes a long, shaky breath. Then she wipes her tears away. “Thanks.”

“It’s okay to cry,” I say.

“I know,” she says. “Yeah, I know. I’ll… I’ll figure something out, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then, silence, for a long moment. A long, long moment.

Until, eventually, Thatch speaks up. “Let’s eat,” he says. “You two need plenty of strength to heal up.” And so, we do. And, for the first time in days, I have enough strength to bring the spoon to my lips myself.

Magic Breaker Ch 46-48

Chapter 46: Out of the Bag

/Oh, Ion? Yeah, I know Ion alright. Fucking monster. Came to the first floor on the same day as I did. One night. That’s how long the peace lasted. Then what? Things blow up. Church of Respitia puts bounties out to bring them that monster’s head.

Me? Oh, no, I didn’t touch one. Fahahahaha. No, no. I don’t got no death wish. No. Tell the church that if they want me on the case, they oughta offer me a dozen free resurrections, up front. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Hunting down Ion for you. What a joke. That thing don’t got a weakness./

-Thomas Buss, lv. 15 Earthstrider

- - -

Someone is pounding on my door. Slamming a fist against what I now know is a thick sheet of cured and hardened mushroom. I blink open my eyes, get out of the bed, sigh, and pull out a knife.

“Opal,” I say, and the echo knight rises from their fluffy pillow. “It’s go time.”

“Dar,” they say, poking their friend. The wulven snaps up. “Sylves.” Our fairy stirs.

“Huh? What?” 

I smile. “I’ll open the door,” I say. “And if something tries to kill me, I would like you to stop it.”

Dar blinks. Once, twice, closing both sets of eyes each time. “Right,” he mumbles. “Yes, okay.”

“Lovely.” Then, I pull open the door. Instantly, I’m faced with three people, two with wings, and one fuzzball. One of the winged ones slammed their hand against my door. Without hesitation, my mana sense flicks out against them. 

[Lightbearer, lv. 25]

Troublesome. But, then again, not insurmountable. I smile, pleasantly, as the group looks at me with grim faces. “Good morning,” I say

“Are you the one known as Ion?” they ask.

I shake my head. “Nope, not me. My name’s Ash.”

A bell chimes. “You lie,” one of them notes. 

“That’s fair, I should have expected that,” I say. “Well, wanna tell me why you’re here?”

The winged one steps closer to me, looking down on me. They’re tall, but I don’t back down, blocking the entrance to our room with my body. “I don’t appreciate you invading my personal space.”

“Your presence has been requested by the bishop of Respitia,” they snarl. “Your ability to heal wounds has been taken note of.”

“Yeah, alright. Tell them to go fuck themselves,” I reply, casually. At that, the winged one becomes even more enraged, and glowing light twirls around their wings. 

“We shall have to make you follow, then,” they say, then lunge.

I sigh. We’re doing this song and dance, then. With a small motion, I step back, out of reach before they can grab me. A beam of light streaks forward from their wings, aiming to tear through my shoulder. 

I break the magic.

It falls apart in mid air, [Deconstructed]. I [Select] the lightbearer. 

Dar charges the fuzzball, and Opal [blinks]. A moment later, I hear the sound of metal rending flesh, and a garbled scream. “Whowee, I can confidently say that I’m not a big fan of killing people,” they say casually, twirling their sword to get the blood off. And yet, they smile.

For just a moment, the horrible noise distracts the lightbearer, and that’s all I need. I step in at them, swinging my dagger, slamming it into their chest, then step back. They try to grab me again, but Kuro trips them, and then my [Suppression] activates them, slamming their body into the ground, and driving the knife in up to its hilt.

[You have killed a lv. 25 Scithian]

That’s their species, then, I note. When I look up, Dar has torn into the body of the fuzzball. They were a higher level than us, yes. They were older, and more used to combat, yes. But they were arrogant, and a moment is enough. I kneel down, withdrawing my knife from the corpse, wiping the blood on my bedsheets.

“Think we’ll get a refund?” I ask Opal.

They shake their head. “Nah,” they say. “Probably not.”

“Dang,” I say, then sigh. “Well. Might as well take what we can then. Go wake the others, I’ll pack.”

Before I even finish, the echo knight blinks, disappearing. Damn, I want that skill. Teleporting is just too awesome. Who wants to walk when you can literally instantly go anywhere? Despite my jealousy, I focus, placing anything that belongs to me in my pack. It’s not a lot, really, but that’s fine. I also grab a few pieces of cloth off the scithians and the fuzzball. Sylves would have wanted them, I’m sure.

Then, the others are in the hallway, already yelling at each other. I walk out, calmly handing Opal their backpack. Dar is downstairs, and I hear the sounds of violence. Inu quickly picks up Sylves from our room, then we sprint down. “Who do you think ratted us out?” I ask, heading downstairs.

Thatch’s skin starts blazing red, and I don’t think he’s in any condition to answer. Norman just curses, and Jess seems entirely focussed, her lips moving in chants. Chants? Weird. Must be a new skill of hers. Strong.

We get downstairs, and Dar is elbow deep in the guts of yet another scithian. And then, there is Paulino, standing so tall that their head almost scrapes the ceiling. “Oh, Ion. Good morning. One moment,” they say, slamming the face of a fuzzball they were holding in an enormous hand against the rim of a stone table. 

The creature goes limp, and flops to the floor. “There,” they say. “It seems that your healing came up in routine questions posed to other humans. Troublesome, huh?”

I tilt my head. Is he full of shit? Did they rat us out? Then, I remember his level.

No. They wouldn’t need to rat us out. Unless… did they do it to win my favour? A small smile spreads on my face. Ahhhhh, I wanna know! I wanna know!

“Good morning, Paulino,” I say. The entire downstairs is a mess. The bartender and [Archon of the Bathtub] gives us a long look. 

“You’ve used up the coin you gave me for the month,” he says. “It’ll go to repairs. Would you like the rest paid out in rations?”

Quickly, Inu nods, adjusting Sylves on her shoulder. “Yes, please.”

The gruff man nods once, then reaches under the tabletop. “Right shame,” he says, “that newbies like you’ll be hunted to the tunnels. Shoulda signed up with a guild.”

I smile. “Nah,” I say. “No guilds. No masters.”

He cracks a small, tiny hint of a smile at that. “Aye,” he says. “That’s the right attitude for a climber. Ye’ll go far. Here,” he tosses a handful of little packs at us. “Dried mushrooms, water, some salt and spices. Enough to last youse a week or two. Good luck. If anyone asks, I’m telling them everything I know.” He waves his hands. “Scamper off, now.”

What a helpful old man. “Fair’s fair. See you,” I see. I’m loath to leave those lovely, smooth coins with him, but if it must be, it must be.

We charge into the streets, and then, there’s trouble.

[You have caught the Eye of Respitia the Pure.]

[Respitia the Pure tells the Keeper of the Tunnels of your crimes against their servants.]

[The Keeper of the Tunnels sighs. They apologize. Their agents will strike you down if you are seen in Espiree within the next month.]

A guard in armor spots us. I sigh. How lovely.

[Flametouched laughs at your misery.]

The guard charges. “Stop being noisy and enjoy the show,” I tell the high-and-mighty ones. Time to cause a bit of havoc.

Chapter 47: Out of the City

We make it half a dozen steps out of the city before a guard charges at us. I’m annoyed. I wanted to buy more magic items, to take apart some of the things here. Now, all I can do is kill some assholes from the church and steal their gear? The enforcers who came to me didn’t even carry anything.

Are they underestimating us this much? Complacent bastards. I feel… nothing. The same blank spot I usually tell myself my care for other people goes. I sigh. Whatever.

My [Suppression] smacks into the guard, but she doesn’t slow down that much, just stumbles, then catches herself. I flick my skill off, and she stumbles. Then I flick it back on. Every time I do, she has to adjust the way she walks, and it makes her look like a penguin, waddling towards us. It’s funny. I almost snicker.

We sprint towards the exit of the city as fast as we can. Paulino pulls out a crackling arrow, shooting at some idiot wearing church colours, embellished with the icon of a spring. The target gets hit, spasms, and goes to the floor. We run some more.

And then run some more, and some more.

Being chased really isn’t all that interesting, I note distantly. I hop, skip and jump to avoid abilities and traps thrown at me. Bay’s mechanical arm snatches a pair of manacles out of the air. “Enchanted!” she tells me.

My eyes light up. Being chased really is just that interesting. 

Abilities start to come in as soon as we start catching the items to steal. Paulino blocks a good few projectiles, by shooting them with his bow, and the rest needa make it through me. And with both [Suppression] and [Deconstruction] running at full tilt? Their odds are poor.

My mana plummets as I pour it into my abilities, leaving my breathing ragged, but that’s fine. I take apart beams of light, sword slashes, energy coatings- ah. The spear itself does stick into my shoulder, since I only [Deconstructed] the coating. Rookie mistake.

[Deconstruction 5 > 6]

Still, being the target of so many abilities is excellent practice for my skill. I need to recognize their patterns, then use my magical toolbox to break them apart. This, currently, amounts to little more than smacking them with a big hammer from my deconstruction toolkit, and sometimes slicing at weak nodes.

It gives me less knowledge on the abilities than usual, but with that and [Suppression], the magic of half a dozen people, all higher level, breaks against me. I grin.

Then, a lance of light slams through my calf so fast I cannot counter it. 

Instantly, I go down. My leg won’t carry my weight anymore, and my face slams into the floor. “Opal, now would be a great time-” 

“Got it!” My friend yells, blinking to my side and snatching me up from the floor. I get tossed over their shoulder unceremoniously, becoming little more than a portable antimagic field. That’s okay though. Not needing to walk is kinda nice. Plus, Opal smells good. Then their shoulder jostles into my stomach and I frown.

“Focus!” Inu yells at me.

Oh, right. I use [Selection], honing in my worldview on the general idea of magic. Other things fade away, and my sight boils down to a colourful menagerie of mana and flickering power. I note a few abilities coalescing close to us, and then smash them before they even activate properly.

[Deconstruction 6 > 7]

[Class up! Deconstructor 8 > 9]

The extra point in vessel gives me a little more mana to rely on. Which is good, because I can see someone charge up that nasty laser that tore through my leg again. And this one is shielded - I can’t just smash it.

So, I do something different. 

[Selection] hones in on that one target, and [Suppression] activates. Not to decrease the power of the spell… but to increase its charging time. I see the expression on the charger change, his face going from a sneer to a surprise, then to a frown. His mana is entering the spell, but not properly taking hold. It’s dissipating, unable to take shape the right way.

I grin, smugly. More and more mana pours through me, through a tether, and infects that construct with grey sludge. My power clings to it, muddying up threads, making connections malfunction, keeping his mana at bay and making it dissipate. It’s a war of attrition.

When Paulino’s arrow strikes the man’s chest, sending him spasming to the ground, I know I’ve won it.

The city gates are in sight. Just a few more steps and we’ll be out. Except, of course, it is never that easy.

A blinding pillar of light descends on me, and Opal disappears beneath me, blinked away. A very reasonable choice, I note, as my skin starts to burn before I’ve even touched down on the stone.

[The Flametouched compliments Respitia the Pure’s methods. Respitia the Pure responds with disgust.]

Not a moment of respite, really. I slam into the stone not even a heartbeat later, my skin splitting open from the impact. The radiant pillar of light burns my skin, cooking me alive. It hurts, but I bear with the pain. All of my mana is poured into [Suppression], keeping a tiny field of it active around me, holding off the pillar. Except, the spell adjusts.

It twists and changes to match my suppression, piercing through the skill. I grit my teeth as the pain intensifies, casting it again, adding another layer that I twist a little bit, to counter the light. It changes again. I cast another layer.

For a moment, my world becomes the pin of a needle again. It’s me and my magic against that pillar. I counter it, and get countered in return. Over and over and over.

My world thins.

[Selection 8 > 9]

I focus. I focus my entire being on it. Counter after counter after counter after counter. I use any bit of knowledge I’ve gained from tearing apart the previous spells in this one, every flaw, every weakness, every exploit I can think of. I struggle, I thrash. My skin blisters and bubbles, but I refuse to die. I refuse.

Mana pours out of me, a torrent of it into my skin, scraping the bottom of my vessel clean of every drop, and then still scrambling for more with my fingernails. My eyes bleed, but the blood evaporates. I don’t even taste the iron in my mouth. 

Over, and over, and over again, I am forced to adjust my [Suppression]. Barrier after barrier, shield after shield against the overwhelming magic.

When the ground crumbles underneath me, I am embraced by cool shadows, and they come as a relief. The last thing I see with my good eye is a figure, hovering high above me, backed by an enormous eye. My senses brush against them.

[Darkbreaker, lv. 52]

I’ll see you again, motherfucker.

[Suppression 9 > 10]

The darkness takes me.

Chapter 48: For a Friend

PoV: Inu Brook-Chavez - Hound

I fall through the floor as it all suddenly crumbles away underneath me. It’s scary, and I hate it, but some part of me is glad. When the darkness of the caves below replaces the light from that horrible pillar and the glowing mushrooms, I feel glad.

Snow didn’t scream. Didn’t even make a noise. And yet. That kind of suffering… Fucking horrible.

When my back slams against cool stones, for a while, I don’t want to get up. Then there’s a wet splat, and I don’t have to ask who made that particular noise. I wanna throw up. I’m scared, so scared. Sylves is on the floor next to me, sprawled out on the cool rock, and the ceiling closes above us.

Bay activates her flashlight, and I crawl over to Snow. My friend is sprawled out on the floor, bleeding from a hundred lacerations of their skin. It looks cut and boiled all at once, entirely red and covered in welts. I wanna throw up. But I [Resist].

Slowly, I brace myself for what’s to come. A shiver runs through me, then there’s a hand on my shoulder. Opal. “Give me some of it,” they say. 

“What?” The words taste foreign on my tongue.

They smile at me, with that same, confident expression they always wear. “Snow’s pain,” they say, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Give me some of it.”

I blink. “What?” I repeat. But, then, the look in their eyes tells me everything. I nod, slowly, gently, and activate [Empathy]. I designate Snow as a target. I feel around, and find it. The pain. It’s not hard to find; in fact, it’s harder to find anything else. That pure, unfiltered agony is at the very top of anything Snow’s experiencing.

Slowly, I tap into that. The pain flows into my skill and demands a target. I designate Opal, then myself. 

Agony.

Liquid fire crawls through my veins. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

I [Resist] it. As best as I can, with everything I have, I [Resist]. My body is stronger than Snow’s. My skill is better at enduring punishment. And yet, it hurts so fucking bad.

“Whooo!” Opal cheers. “Now that’s a fucking kick, alright. Hahahaha! Damn. Fuck!” They’re sprawled on the floor, too, sword clattering from their fingers as the agony sets in. 

Mom comes over, kneeling down next to Snow. Bay and Thatch are talking with the sumeen, thanking their earthshaper for saving us. My mother gently places a finger on Snow’s skin, and applies [Freeze].

It’s calm, unfazed, and entirely unlike her. I’d always known her to panic under stress. She was the first one to suggest we just hide out the apocalypse… yet here she is. Kneeling next to my dying friend and using magic. To help. Without a noise of complaint.

“Cool, not cold,” I whisper to her.

She looks at me, then nods, dialling down her usage of mana. The skill descends like a gentle blanket, and I can feel some of the endless agony drain out of me. I hiss, drawing air into my lungs by force, blinking the tears from my eyes. 

Fuck. It really was just that bad.

I resolve myself. I know Snow would do the same for me. Without a complaint, without a single whimper, I know that stupid idiot would do it. So, I could do the same. I don’t voice my hurt, just set my teeth, biting down, and taking in some more pain.

Halfway through, I have to [Resist] screaming my lungs out, too.

But I don’t stop. Despite everything, I keep going. Because it’s what I’m supposed to do. I know my dad touches my shoulder, but the sensation is so distant, so minor compared to everything else, that it’s no more than background noise. I breathe, despite everything, I breathe.

It’s just pain. It’s just pain. It’s just pain. I repeat the mantra, as if it would save me, as if it could help, but it doesn’t. There’s nothing other than agony. And I just cannot, anymore. It’s too much. Far, far too much.

I’m not like Snow. I can’t just put on that deadpan expression and act. I can’t. It hurts, and tears stream down my face. I want it to stop, to put it somewhere else, and at even just the idea of that, I see Opal’s entire body draw tight.

No. That’s unfair too.

I wanna rage against the world, against how unfair it all is. But no one cares, no one listens. Except, someone does.

[You have caught the Eye of the Master of Suffering.]

My teeth grind against each other. Those. The spectators, from on high. I feel anger at them, and for a second, that anger wins out over the pain. Voyeurs, the lot of them. Watching us without permission, simply to suit their fancy.

No. They don’t get to. Don’t get to see me suffer.

I pour more of myself into my skills. They’re my sanity, my self. I have always been tough. I roll with the punches, I resist, I stay kind. That’s who I am, that’s who I’ve always been, that’s who I will be.

[Resistance 5 > 8]

The pain abates, but it’s not enough. Now, my anger burns hotter. I draw in more, into myself, into my vortex, and remain unshaken, as my class demands. This is mine. My burden to bear, my duty and my task. I pull it all in, drawing it into a maelstrom, a reservoir. A reservoir?

Right. There is a vessel inside me now, right? Who said I can only store mana in it? Who says I need to keep to one vessel? Fuck that. 

I pull, and pull, and pull. Agony lances up my arms, but I refuse to let it show. Just like Snow, I simply take it, breathing, having my face remain calm. It hurts, I sweat, tears stream down my face, but I don’t scream. I don’t scream.

And then, finally, it all pours into itself, into a little spot designated for it. 

[New Skill acquired!]

[Reservoir 0 > 1]

It pours into a spot designated for all the suffering in the world. For every bit of pain and misery that doesn’t deserve to see the light of day. Then, I just sit there, thinking.

Reservoir. How much can I hold, before I break? How do I pour it out? Can I use it, productively? Perhaps let someone feel a touch of another’s struggles, to make them feel a bit of care?

I take a deep breath. No matter. I can store the suffering. I don’t want to bottle it up, but… my eyes drift to Snow. Yes. We will find a use for it, surely. 

And if we don’t, and if I break… well, that’s fine, if it’s for a friend.

Magic Breaker Ch 43-45

Chapter 43: Tunnel Guides

[Level up! 18 > 19]

More mana, fuelling my [Suppression] of the tide. We walk, and walk, and walk on. Behind us, the sound of fighting echoes through the caves, but I hardly care about it. We carve our way through the critters, and eventually, we come out the other side.

There are only so many in each horde, and they’re all rather low level it seems. None of the insects were above level 10. It was, nonetheless, exhausting. My mana is low. I can barely see from my good eye, as my vision is clouded by blood. I pour the rest of my power into [Flesh Restoration], knitting the blood vessels in my face back together.

That also means I feel the horrible ichor in my socks again. It’s terrible. Disgusting. I pull off my shoes and throw them aside, my socks soon following. Then, I turn at the remains of the insects. I look at them for a long moment.

“What are you thinking about?” Jess asks.

“We need to eat,” I note.

Faces twist with disgust. “No,” Amelie protests. “No, absolutely not. Never. Forget it.”

I want to reach down and grab a bit of flesh, but it’s all sticky ichor or tough chitin. Almost nothing that seems… edible. We could make a stew out of it? I can feel my food aversions come up. 

Maybe I would rather starve. 

Slowly, I nod at Amelie. “Yeah. Let’s… see if we can find something more palatable.”

We move on. Kuro delights in the remains. 

- - -

The rocks poke against the soles of my feet. It’s still an uncomfortable experience, but with my toughened up body, they don't really hurt as much. I would prefer shoes, but… well. Not with what happened back there.

The tunnels are boring. Just long stretches of empty grey. Occasionally, they open up into caverns, and occasionally we stumble across other groups, but we never break out into hostilities or fights. Not yet, at least.

Until, of course, we stumble upon a group that’s different from ours.

It’s not hiy’ht, or wulven, or humans. Instead, the members of it are all a species of lanky humanoids, with almost entirely featureless faces. They have six small, circular holes, looking kind of like a mask, each of them dark.

One of them spots us, and my senses brush up against it.

[Pathfinder, lv. 33]

The creature shivers for a moment, then takes a step towards us. A moment later it stands in front of me. Its voice brushes against my senses, and I blink. The way it speaks sounds almost like TV static. A continuous buzzing noise, going up and down in frequency.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I tell the creature, and it pauses. It tilts its head, leaning forward as if appraising me. I feel mana spill forth, brushing against my skin. It’s not painful, just somewhat unpleasant. Then it makes some more noise, in that buzzing speech of its.

A moment later, we’re surrounded. Tall, slender creatures, faceless things with holes in their heads, look at us. They tilt their heads, buzzing and droning ominously as they surround us. I select one of them, a thin grey tether spilling out of me and sticking to it - only to have it cut to ribbons.

The creature waes its arm through the air as if to dispel some smoke. I note that where there once was a hand, its appendage now ends in a knife-like point. I guess this time, I won’t be able to learn the language faster. As if to punish me for my sleight, the creature picks up a small rock, and gently tosses it against my forehead.

I blink. More buzzing noises. One walks a little bit, then turns around and looks at us. More droning. A step, then another look. “I think they want us to follow them,” Inu says.

Slowly, I tilt my head. “Huh,” I hum. “Alright, then.”

If they wanted us dead, I don’t think we would have lasted too long, so they must not be too hostile. All of them keep chatting away, in that same ominous droning noise that they make. I think they might be trying to get our systems to implant the language in us already, so that we can communicate. Do we learn it faster the more we’re exposed to it?

Curious. How curious. 

They lead us down one tunnel after another, taking long, big steps, surrounding us, as if to keep us from escaping. Or to keep us safe. It’s confirmed to be the second, when monsters finally appear.

This time, it’s not the simple horde of insects we’ve dispatched before. It’s a single, large creature, made of glowing chitin and mushrooms growing on it, and rotating teeth for a maw.

[Gloomstalker lv. 46]

Instantly, it lunged towards us, turning into a pale blue blur. One of the grey-skinned tall ones buzzes with loud urgency, then steps in front of me. Briefly, I wonder why the monsters always go for me. Then I realize that all of the more wise people in my party actually stepped back when the monster showed up, instead of stepping forward and sending mana at it, like me.

Ah. That’d do it.

The gloomstalker collides with one of our temporary guides, sending the tall humanoid to the ground in a heap. In exchange, the gloomstalker becomes frozen in the air for a moment. Instantly, the other guides descend like harpies, tearing into it in the brief moment it remains paralyzed. 

A second passes and the stalker thrashes again, chitin limbs stretching from its hide, jabbing at our guides. One of them places a hand on the ground, and earth rises to envelop a leg. Another one draws back an invisible bowstring, manifesting a glowing blue arrow, and shooting it right through the stalker. 

It breaks free, but receives two stabs through its body from floating spears. Then, it strikes the guard it knocked on its butt again, a single bladed foreleg dragging against their body, as they move to shield me. I look at them. I could have dodged, they could have dodged, yet here we are.

After that, the monster freezes again, and a second later, it’s dispatched. The guide who got hurt slowly raises, but I pull on the cloth it’s wrapped in. The creature turns to me, humming and droning, tilting its head. “Let me see that,” I say, pointing at the wound. It tilts its head some more.

I step closer, and the other creatures suddenly come up to me, hovering around. One even holds a sword in front of me, but I push on. “Let me see,” I say. “Inu, project my intent.”

She nods. “Alright. Ready,” she confirms, and I think very hard on the idea of healing them. Those wounds look nasty, and I can close them. It got hurt because of me. That’s needed.

A pause. Very slowly, the sword in front of me gets pulled aside. I step up to the creature, sitting on the floor, staring at me with those six holes in its face. Then, I reach out and channel my mana into a healing spell.

Its biology is different from humans, of course. But that doesn’t matter. My spell already checks the intrinsic blueprint of a person. I don’t quite know how it manages, but it’s malleable enough for this. Well, almost. I do need to push it a little.

[Flesh Restoration 1 > 2]

The wound closes a little. Shocked silence. I cast the spell a few more times, until the grey flesh underneath its strange clothing is entirely intact again. It took three quarters of my mana pool, but it’s done. Then I step back.

Instantly, the party erupts into excited buzzing. 

Chapter 44: Anthropology

It takes another few minutes before the excitement bubbles down. Then a few more minutes after that until I am able to understand the first few words they speak.

“Think… like… city,” one of the creatures hums. Their voices, once translated, sound melodious. Almost musical. There is a rhythm to the way they speak that I cannot quite catch onto. There would have to be, given the fact that the humming seems largely reliant on that, but the way it filters through is kinda nice.

I like it.

“Very. Soon…” 

Bit by bit, the words grow clearer, and they notice we can understand them. Thatch whispers to Bay and one of the creatures replies. “Speak… more… learn!”

Oh. They’d need to learn our language, too, of course. “Start monologuing,” I tell everyone. “They need to understand us.”

A short pause. Opal laughs. “Alright, fine. Silence was wearing on me anyway. Hey, Inu, my shoulder’s tired. Carry Sylves for a while?” 

“Sure thing,” the kind girl replies, picking up the body of our friend as if it weighed nothing. Inu’s build is pretty heavy on the power. She’s been building a chunk of it naturally, too, from walking around in armor, and is able to soon find a spot where Sylves doesn’t get poked by any of the bits of metal. 

People chat a lot more, and I try to pick out some more of the conversations of our guides. “Soup… sleep,” one says. “Food only!” another mocks them. The hungry one grumbles. “Work only,” they hum back, and the group breaks out in a bit of laughter.

One turns to me. “Understand?” they ask.

I blink, and nod. “Mostly,” I say.

“Will be enough. Improve faster when started,” they explain. That makes sense, too. ‘Knowing’ more words would make it easier to figure out what the others meant. It hummed a little bit, something that wasn’t translated, which seemed to mean it was mostly musical or introspective in nature.

“You new here, yes?” they asked.

I nod. “Yes,” I agree readily.

“Expected,” it says. “Unexpected species. New new.”

Slowly, I tilt my head, in what slowly seems to be becoming a universal gesture of confusion. “What?”

“Ah. New to tower, not just new to floor,” they explain.

Huh. “There are people outside the tower that know the tower exists, am I getting that correctly?”

“Yes!” the alien buzzes happily. “Species, once integrated, eventually become part of the general floor 0. Think…” it pauses. “Islands. But bigger.”

I see. “How long until our home planet gets integrated into this overarching floor?”

“Ah. Decades. Half a century,” the creature explains. “Then it will be grafted.”

“Grafted?” I ask.

“Grafted,” the alien confirms. “Bits of it will be included into the floors of the tower. Bits of it refashioned into more islands for the outside, for floor 0. Ascendancy wells will stay, and the tower will be open to all who wish to climb.”

“What about kids? Will people be born with skills?” I ask.

“Maturity scan performed on integration,” the answer comes. “Eligible individuals receive skills. Ineligible are… in stasis, until floor 0 deemed stable enough. Then, the tower establishes spawn points in the major settlements. For new children? Awakening stones.”

“Awakening stone?” I ask.

The alien chirps, humorously. “Curious! Yes, awakening stones. Perform maturity scan. Bestow skills upon adequate personality development. Usually? Eighteen years. Sometimes later.”

“Never earlier?” I ask.

“Sometimes,” it shrugs. “Often in victims of trauma. People whose childhood was robbed from them. It’s deemed a tragedy.”

I nod. “That makes sense,” I say. It nods, too.

“That gesture,” it says, “is one of affirmation, yes?” Then, they tilt their head. “This one. Curiosity, yes?”

Again, I nod. “Yes, and yes.”

The alien hums a tune of happiness. “Very good! Ah. You may brush me with your mana. I shall reveal my job.” My eyes widen a little. You could do that? How curious. I take my mana sense, brushing it against them.

[Anthropologist - 15]

How bizarre. An alien who is an anthropologist. Have they ever even met humans? Most likely not. Does Anthropology then mean the study of general cultures of sapients in this context?

I also note the different formatting. There’s a hyphen in there. That must denote that it’s a job, rather than a class or species. “What’s your species?” I ask. They smile.

“Check again.”

[Sumeen lv. 34]

“And your class?” I ask.

It hums. “Curious! Yes, check again.”

[Ethereal Archer, 19]

Hm. There is no level denominator. No ‘lv.’ sign. And there is a comma. Slowly, the pieces click. “Is the default display a class name and supremacy level?” I ask.

The creature chirps happily. “Yes! That’s exactly right.”

I hum for a moment, and that makes it tilt its head in curiosity. “What was that?” they ask.

“Huh? What was what?” I ask.

“That. You just spoke in Sumeean,” they say. I blink for a moment. 

“Oh, this?” I ask, then hum a little bit again. The alien nods vigorously. “I’m humming. Humans - our species - do it to communicate simple emotions. Thoughtfulness, curiosity, happiness, sometimes annoyance or anger.”

The sumeen tilts its head in curiosity. “I see. It is a supplement to your main language, then? That… clicky string of noises and pauses?” they ask.

I nod again. “Yes. We’re speaking a human language called English. There are loads more, but most of them involve similar sounds.”

“Must be related to your biology?” the alien guesses, and I nod. 

“Do you have the concept of names?” I ask.

“Oh! How rude. I have not yet introduced myself. My name is Paulino,” they say. 

“Great. I’m Ion. Do you… understand what I mean when I say gender?” I ask.

The creature pauses, confused. “... No,” it says, slowly shaking its head. “What is that?”

I take a deep breath. “Humanity requires two members of its species to create new members,” I say, as simply as I can. “These involve some biological differences. From this, there have been societal roles and expectations created for these two different members. These roles are gender roles, because while one may be born as one gender, it is possible to change into the other.”

“You shapeshift?” the alien asks.

I blink. “... Not quite,” I say. “It’s called transitioning. It can be personal, in which case it is only related to an internal sense of identity and belonging. It can also be social, which means asking to be treated differently by one’s friends, peers and associates. It can be legal, in which case it often involves changing the name one’s government uses, and the marked biological characteristics in legal documents. And it can be medical, in which case it involves medical procedures to change one’s body.”

The alien takes this all in. “Fascinating,” it says. “Fascinating! Is there anything outside of these… two options? I do not believe either of them would be well transplanted upon the sumeen.”

“Yeah!” Opal says. “Tell them what being enby is all about, Snow.” They grin at me. Thatch also gives me a smirk, and Sylves winks. They look encouraging, as if asking me to talk about my own experience. 

“Don’t cancel me,” I say, smiling faintly. I’ve lived more than enough of it to get it right. “Yes. Many humans are also not quite happy with this rigid binary - binary meaning something with two options - and thus, it was expanded into a spectrum.”

“Does your species often use such… geometric illustrations for personal identification?” Paulino asks.

“Well, spectrums are quite common in classifying humans, since they can allow identification of similar traits, while allowing personal nuance,” I explain. “They are used in mental assessments as well, in order to determine how typical your thought and behaviour patterns are.”

“Fascinating,” the alien repeats. One of the other ones, the pathfinder, elbows them. 

“Make sure to pay the human for the service,” they say.

Paulino waves them off. “Sure, sure. Now, tell me more, please.”

“Right,” I say. “My friend, Gem,” I point to Opal, “doesn’t identify with this gender binary. They are thus nonbinary, a term for anyone who does not neatly fit into either descriptor or role.”

“Did you just… put a term that generally means ‘to decline’ or ‘to refuse’ in front of the term used to denote the state of things you described to me before?”

I nod. “Exactly.”

“What an efficient way of describing things.”

“Yeah. So, this generally means they do not use binary pronouns. Pronouns are… personal participles that refer to someone without using their name. I. You. He,” I point to Thatch. “She,” I point to Inu. “They,” I point to Opal.

“Some people use ones that are different from those three, but they are the most common ones. ‘They’ is usually used on anyone whose gender you do not know, or anyone who may fall outside of the binary. Not always, but it is usually a safe bet,” I explain.

“I see,” Paulino says, nodding. “Then, since gender does not apply to us, you would use this… ‘they’ for me and my colleagues, correct?”

Slowly I nod. “Yes. Mostly. Sometimes, for nonhuman creatures, we also use ‘it’. This generally denies someone’s personhood, though, so it’s often considered to be unkind to use on sapients.”

Paulino draws in a long breath, walking on. “Is this sort of… two-sex biological reproduction method common where you are from?”

At this point, the conversation moves on from my niche set of interests. Instead, I elbow Inu. “I’m out of people energy,” I say.

She gives me a long look, then a suffering sigh. She turns to Paulino. “Yes and no,” she says. “It is common, but by no means universal. Even for humans it’s not-”

I tune them out. She’s probably going to briefly touch on intersex people, maybe even artificial fertilization, and while the first is cool, I don’t care that much about the second. Plus, I talked enough. Paulino, clearly, is an extrovert. 

Instead of dealing more with them, as my party starts chatting with the aliens, I pull out my twice improved mana maze. My finger traces its side, finding the faint ridges of runes. A small smile spreads on my face. I follow the lines, leaning on the essence packet I got from reaching level five in my job. 

We walk through the tunnels, but my focus on the mana maze almost lets me forget about the discomfort on the soles of my feet.

I love magic.

Chapter 45: City

There is another interruption of my practice, and the mana I’d been channelling through the maze breaks apart into ethereal strands. I look up. It’s yet another one of the sumeen, the one with torn clothing. The one who defended me against the gloomstalker.

“You healed me,” they hum.

I nod. “Sure,” I say.

They take a long break, probably to breathe or something, before they speak again. “Healers are rare,” they say. “Often connected to sponsor lineages and organisations.”

“Okay.”

“Some of those may try to recruit you,” they say.

“Sure.”

The alien huffs. “Thank you for healing me,” they say. “We will keep your secret. Do not spread it lightly. You aren’t strong enough.”

At that, I finally nod. “I see.”

“Good, good. Then with that, and our guidance, I shall consider my debt repaid,” they say.

“That’s fine,” I agree. Then, the alien trots off. I think it over for a bit.

Healing is valuable. That makes sense. Life should be valued. But if it’s so valuable, then why have I not caught someone’s eye for it yet? Are they not watching? I’m curious. Which organisations will try to kidnap me? What do they know? How would they force me to do their bidding? I wanna know, I wanna know.

But, instead of that, I force down my curiosity, and focus on the mana maze. This one, too. I wanna know how it works. The temptation to take it apart is so strong. But I suppress that temptation, too, and instead channel my mana into it again, forming strings of ethereal power, flipping switches, splitting and threading them through the tiny labyrinth. 

I improve, bit by bit, step by step as we keep walking.

- - -

The next time my focus is broken is when Inu taps me on my shoulder. “Snow,” she says, gently. “Look.”

At her request, I raise my head from the task I’ve been focused on. In front of me, there is a city. It’s dug into the cavern, houses carved from stone, some plated with bits of chitin and strange, spongy looking wood. People mill about, mostly sumeen, and some other species, too. Humanoids with large, crystalline wings on their backs, and others who seem to be entirely covered in fur, looking like walking balls of floof. 

Even from outside, it’s impressive looking. There is a small queue in front of the gate, and a few more humans already there. They must have gotten to an ascendancy well that was a little closer to the city. There are guards, most of them sumeen, doing a few routine checks, as well as a very official looking person. 

I know they’re official because they wear fancy robes and carry a fancy clipboard. It’s one of those with the crystalline wings, though theirs are elegantly folded behind their back. Already, the mish-mash of different languages is starting to give me a headache, but my phone’s battery is low, and this seems important.

Luckily, I’m at least curious about what’s happening, which helps me care a little less about the annoyance of the noise. “This is Espiree,” Paulino says. “A city that has stood for a few decades, now. This is rare, due to monster migrations, you see, so Espiree has become a bit of a hub.”

There’s that word again. “Monsters?” I ask.

“Ah, yes. The non-sentient inhabitants of the tunnels,” Paulino says. “They are entirely biologically viable and do reproduce, but they will also be spawned from the tower itself. In the same way that you produce mana, or your heart pumps blood through your veins, the tower spawns creatures. This includes members of integrated species. ‘Monsters’ simply denotes the non sapient ones.” He pauses. “Non sapient. How elegant.”

So Kuro would be a monster, then. I brush my senses against my stealthy companion.

[Living Shadow lv. 12]

That sounds about right. It immediately gave me their species and supremacy, so I’d assume it’s a monster, yeah. How bothersome. Well, not like any other wild animal, right? Docile under the right circumstances and all. Surely Kuro would never eat me.

I look at the little blob of darkness, poking their head out of my shadow. Surely. Right? Right.

We step forward in the queue, and the fancy looking official talks. I already understand the language - the background chatter of the city is just that overwhelming, and people are pointing at us humans with surprise and curiosity. I don’t bother listening, though. The official talks on and on and on… but all I imagine he’s saying is the normal stuff.

Don’t hurt anyone. Don’t steal. Help if there are monster migrations. Classic things.

[The Keeper of the Tunnels watches over you.]

And that marks the backer of those laws. A powerful avatar of an Eye stationed in the city proper. This time, at least, it seems like a standard message, rather than a troublesome one, marking me as an enemy. I get a couple curious glances because of my burned face, but no one approaches me about it.

Luckily, I have the others with me. They get to deal with the stares, the issue of acquiring housing, and how we might make money. Frankly, I’m halfway to suggesting that we could just camp out in the tunnels. Sure, there are gloomstalkers, but well. How could we climb without a little risk?

A small smirk appears on my face, and Inu pokes my side. “No,” she says, smiling. “Absolutely not. We’re not doing that, Snow. I’m going to take a shower. You should get new shoes. And-”

“No, no,” I say, looking at my bare feet. “No need to say anymore. You had me at shoes.”

We’ll stay in the city for a little while. That much should be fine, right? 

- - - 

Newly integrated species get a stipend, apparently. So, we receive some amount of what passes for money in the tower. A pouch of fancy little coins called chits. I like them. They’re flat, unengraved, and have rounded, smooth sides. They feel more like pebbles than actual coins, and if they were a little larger, I think they could be great emotional support.

In short, I already don’t want to spend mine. Yet, I do what I must. A pair of shoes. A shirt and pants that aren’t horribly stained by blood. Room and board for a month at an Inn, me, Opal, Dar and Sylves sharing a room. The meals are mostly cave fungus-based, and I’m pretty okay with that after the first taste. They’re spongy and fun to chew, with a slightly salty taste. 

After about half a day, we are fed, full, and clean. It’s kind of nice, enjoying the benefits of civilization. There really are people with all kinds of jobs. I thought anthropologist was weird, but that was before I knew of the [Archon of the Bathtub].

Still, it’s not entirely pleasant. My bad. Mainly on me, I admit. My mana was full in the city, and it felt like a weight in my chest again, so I started using [Suppression]. On myself, of course. Every movement feels heavy, like I’m wearing a weighted vest. It’s a little weird, the sensation that there is resistance to every movement I make. 

But, with a little luck, this will give me some more power to play with. And, since my mana regenerates in my sleep, when we head to bed for… whatever passes as night in an underground city, I first make sure to empty out my mana. Which means pulling out a knife, going to town on myself, and healing the wounds, as well as spending more healing on my blind eye.

With [Suppression] active, it barely even hurts. Plus, Kuro cleans up all of the blood, so there’s no mess. All I’m left with is feeling sore, hungry, a little tougher, and tired. Oh, and a little better at healing, of course.

[Flesh Restoration 2 > 3]

It’s only on the next day that our secret gets out.

Magic Breaker Ch 40-42

Chapter 40: Help Us.

Slowly, bit by bit, the world comes back into focus. I breathe, stand up, and frown. “My pants are ruined,” I say. 

Thatch pulls me into a hug. “You did good,” he says. “You did amazing. Thank you, Snow.”

I blink. Slowly, just once, I pat his back. “Sure,” I say. “Yeah.”

[Level up! 15 > 17]

[Job up! Enchanter 4 > 5]

[Class up! Deconstructor 6 > 8]

Essence pours into me from my job packet, but I ignore it for the moment. My mana is almost out, but the points in vessel help. I’ve gained another point naturally, too, I note. I place all six stats from the level up in vessel again. Slowly, I let my gaze sweep over my party. The only ones missing are Bay, Dar, and my shadow friend. For a moment, as everyone fusses over Sylves, I look at the other groups.

I’m weak. Will any of them try to murder us? I stand tall on my feet, facing anyone in the cave with a challenging glare. A few meet my eyes, but none are hungry. They are… surprised? In awe? I blink.

Right. No attacks. Letting myself relax just slightly, I open up my status. 

Name: Snow Okiyama - Ion

Floor: 1

Class: <Deconstructor> - 8

Job: <Enchanter> - 5

Lv. 17

Heart: 14

Power: 5

Vessel: 56

Skills:

• [Suppression lv. 8]

• [Selection lv. 6]

• [Solidification lv. 5]

• [Deconstruction lv. 5]

• [Inscription lv. 3]

• [Flesh Restoration lv. 1]

My power has increased a bit more, naturally, which is nice. And I quite enjoy the look of my skills. Six of them. Two granted from the start, one granted by my class, the other earned but almost entirely granted by the essence from my job, and two I created myself. 

[Flesh Restoration] once again fits into the little pattern. It’s almost funny. But I’m the most proud of it. It’s not a skill I came up with myself - it’s one I stole. Right from under the system’s nose, by pushing myself, by borrowing Inu’s and Thatch’s strengths. By practicing over and over, until it worked.

Even now, the version I use is a botched, malformed imitation of what the system can do. I barely managed to seal a wound shut, not to mention healing it. But it is good enough to be recognized as a skill, and that makes me happy. 

Slowly, I lower myself to the floor, avoiding the large puddle of blood around Sylves. Opal is trying to make her drink a little bit of water, with moderate success. But she’s alive. Without a doubt, she’s alive.

Time slowly starts creeping forward again. We put Amelie’s bandage on the wound, helping to keep it closed, and not as exposed to the dust in the air. A cave probably isn’t the most sanitary area, really. Slowly, more people trickle through the glowing portal to the previous floor. 

Dar makes it through, and though the wolf sports a few cuts, he laughs boisterously as he makes it out. “Fahahaha! What a wonderful challenge.” Then, his eyes land on us. “And most of you made it, too. Good.”

Opal gives him a look, and places a finger on their lips. Dar shuts his mouth, and walks over, as he notices Sylves. “Ah,” he says. Nothing else.

More time passes. Thatch starts to fidget. Then, someone else comes through the glowing arch, a man I don’t know. He has fiery, red hair, and his body is covered in a half dozen cuts. He, like Sylves, is bleeding out.

The shirtless, buff guy, takes note of him and frowns. Then his eyes land on me. Very slowly, I shake my head. I have the mana, but I want to save it in case Bay needs it. His frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows, as if negotiating. I hold up three fingers. Slowly, he nods. 

“A mana potion,” I say, first. 

Instantly, the man speaks. “I would like to use my minor request on a potion that restores as much mana as possible without any negative side effects.”

A rock spawns in his hand, and he doesn’t hesitate, giving it to me. Smart man. I absorb some of the mana inside of it, and instantly, a torrent of power floods back into my vessel. Except, my vessel is huge for my level. It’s noticeable, by now, with the way mana works. I can tell that no one here has as much of it as I do.

Still, the core does a good job at refilling some of it. I kneel next to the man, casting my new skill again, and his wounds knit closed. One by one, they stop bleeding, though the flesh still looks ragged. Then, I stand up. 

The muscled man looks at me with a slight frown. “You could do more,” he notes.

I nod. “Yes.”

“But you won’t,” he notes.

Again, I nod. “Yes.”

“Why?” he asks.

Slowly, I sweep my eyes over the people in the cave. Him. The girl that used a clone before. The scrawny mage and their grimoire. A small smile spreads on my face. “I need enough power to feel safe.”

His frown deepens. “I’ll protect you,” he says.

At that, I actually laugh. It’s a derisive one, a snort, huffing out in amusement. “Yeah fucking right. And then what? Hold it over my head? Make me your personal healer? Nah.”

I see his eyebrows knot, as he thinks. “You’re paranoid. Humans should stick together.”

My patience runs out, right then, right there. “This talk is done,” I say. “You owe me two minor requests. Ask for more, and I’ll kill you.”

At that, the chatter in the cavern goes quiet. You could have heard a pin drop. The man seems stunned for a moment, then raises an eyebrow. “Really now?” he asks.

“Gem,” I say, using their anonymous name. We exchanged them during the walk to the ascendancy well. 

Before the man can blink, our echo knight stands behind him, sword pointed at the nape of his neck. “Yepyep, that’d be me,” they say, smiling, with that same melodic cadence they usually talk in. There is that playful hint of amusement in their voice, even as they threaten to murder a man. 

Mister muscular draws in a long, deep breath. He smiles, placatingly, and raises his hands. “Alright, alright,” he says. “Peace, peace. At ease.” His party settles down. “How about one more favour since you didn’t heal him properly?”

“Two more,” I say.

“One,” he offers.

“Three,” I raise the price.

“Two,” he replies with a grimace. “Fine, fine. Two more. What do you want?” 

A small smile spreads on my face. My party probably earned some, too, so we can take care of immediate survival needs. What do we need in here? We have water. We can figure out light; in fact, I might be able to use my mana as a lamp. I still have the core. What else do I want?

I toss him my mana maze. “Ask for this to be improved into a better training tool for mana.”

He raises his eyebrows, then rolls his eyes a little. “Fine. I would like to use a minor request to upgrade this into a better training tool for mana,” he says.

Hah. He did have two minor requests from his challenge. I thought so, when he readily agreed to spend three on me. The cube glows a little, and grows, just a bit. It feels more magical, too. “Do it again,” I smile.

Slowly, he nods, then hands the cube to one of his party members. “You heard the healer,” he says. “Upgrade it.”

His party member, a young woman, eyes me with furrowed eyebrows. “Fine,” she spits, but still faithfully fulfills the request. The cube glows again, growing slightly. Before, it easily fit into my palm. Now, it’s about the size of a fist. I take it from here, and nod.

“We’re even,” I say, smiling.

“What’s your name?” the man asks me. 

“Ion,” I reply, readily.

“I’m Maximillian. This is Rose,” he points at the woman. “And the guy you saved is called Pyro.”

Richard’s eyes light up at that last declaration. She lets out a small, excited chitter, but doesn’t otherwise move. I just nod at the man, then turn around. I have a new toy to play with.

Chapter 41: Regrouped

After healing Pyro, Maximillian leans him against the cavern wall. Things are a bit crowded, but it’s still manageable. Slowly, I put on my headphones, checking my phone’s battery. Twenty percent. I frown, but still click play on the music, feeling the way the world tunes out.

I close my eyes, just for a little while, enjoying the blissful nothingness. Time passes, slowly but steadily ticking forward. By now, Sylves’ blood has dried out a little, going from crimson liquid to a sticky goop on the floor. It smells like iron. 

Most likely, it’ll attract monsters pretty soon, but I don’t mention that to anyone. None of my business, after all. Instead, I focus on the mana inside my vessel. It feels large. Crossing the fifty point mark feels significant, in the way that humans enjoy their little milestones. 

The mana core that Maximillian gave me still has some more mana inside it. I draw it out, leaving the core empty. I try to push mana in again, and it feels a little like making water go through a filter. It works, but it takes a while. Some of it also seems to dissipate. 

I hum to myself, experimenting a little more with the little blue rock I've been given. Why do I feel like calling it a mana core? Couldn’t it just as well be a mana crystal or a mana stone? Curious, how curious.

A bit more of my mana drops into it. My vessel feels lighter when it’s not full. Isn’t that strange? If I’m full on mana, my body almost feels charged. Under pressure. It’s a bizarre sensation, but hopefully I won’t feel it too often. I should just keep using my mana if it’s full, after all. 

More time passes. A few more people come through with injuries, but none are life-threatening. Some people don’t come through at all, it seems, given the expressions of the parties. Bay still isn’t here. Thatch grows more nervous, but Inu pats his shoulder.

Someone crawls through the arch, but bleeds out before his party can even ask me for help. 

Finally, after all the waiting, Bay comes out from the portal. She is entirely unharmed, in fact, she looks stronger than ever. Her exoskeleton has gone up from her arm, wrapping around her shoulder, the side of her neck, and placing a lens in front of one of her eyes. She looks terrifying.

Thatch wraps her in a hug. She pats his back with the hand that’s not wrapped in metal and wiring, squeezing him back. “I’m okay,” she assures him. “My challenge gave me twenty-four hours to disassemble a bit of tech. I grafted some bits onto me. The only danger was it blowing up in my face. It was just time consuming.”

My friend breathes a few sighs of relief. Slowly, he lets his mom go again, smiling ear to ear. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

She nods. “Yeah.” Her eyes sweep over our group. “Looks like I’m the last to make it,” she notes. 

I nod. Another person comes through the arch. He’s blonde, tall, and wears a bloodstained shirt. There’s a gun and a sword at his hip. I recognize him. He’s the guy that asked us to join his group. Where’s that group, now?

His eyes lock with mine, and he smiles wider. He takes a step towards me. I ignore him. Another step towards me. I can smell him. Machine oil and iron. I ignore him some more. Then he stands right in front of me.

“Hey there doll, I know you,” he says. “Dang, your face! What happened?”

I don’t look up from my phone. I’m wearing my headphones. Surely he won’t be ignorant enough to-

He reaches out to pull my headphones off. 

Some fucking people. 

I kick out at his shin, and he hops back. “Oh! So you can see me,” he says with a laugh. “How’re you? You look hurt! Glad to see you made it here.”

Can’t he go away?

Despite my clear disinterest, the fact that I’m wearing headphones, and am pointedly not looking at him, he chatters on. I turn up my music, making it loud enough to the point where he’d hear it. Hopefully that communicates things.

Again, he reaches for my headphones. This time, though, Inu steps between us. She speaks, and I don’t hear it through the noise cancelling, but that’s okay. I can imagine it’s something like “Snow doesn’t wanna talk to you, stupid motherfucker. Disgustingly handsome bitch. Piss off you social whore. Close your dumbass mouth.”

Yep. That sounds just like her.

The man smiles lazily in reply, crossing his arms behind his head. He says something to Inu, and they talk back and forth a bit. I just wait. Well, not just. I also slowly scoot away from the guy, trying to get to the point where I don’t smell the iron and oil. But it seems pointless. Ugh.

Soon enough, though, the arch glows again. No one exits it, though. Except, something does. My shadow friend, quickly slithering across the dark floor, before settling into the darkness beneath me, then slowly starts nibbling at the blood Sylves already spilled.

Recycling, right? I eye it a little warily, whispering. “Buddy, you’re gonna have to promise me not to actually eat any part of my friend that’s attached to her.”

The blob hesitates for a moment, then I feel a slight twinge of affirmation, and it continues the grim work. I need to name it, really. For another long moment, I watch it eat up the dried blood. “Kuro,” I whisper.

My little companion shivers for a moment, turning to me. There’s another thin pulse of affirmation. Kuro. 

[The Creeping Darkness watches.]

Weirdo. 

Then I look at blondie. The handsome prick is still talking to Inu. I hope he dies in a fire. 

Suddenly, both of them stop talking. They turn to look into the same direction. The cave is still dark. I sigh, slowly, then stand up. It was only a matter of time, really. Blood was spilled. Of course, there are things in the cave that smelled it. 

Chapter 42: Creepy Crawlies

A battle with so many people would be chaotic. There is no real way around it. Things were never going to be simple with everyone clustered around the arch. Some people are still exhausted from difficult challenges. Our group has spent half their wishes on different magical items. I take a drink from my refilling phial. 

It refills slowly, and there’s not quite enough for me, but that’s okay. I don’t need it to be. 

As the creatures crawl closer, I turn off my headphones,and switch my phone off to conserve battery. It’s at fifteen percent now. How depressing. I need to learn how to charge it, or have Bay learn. Gently, I sigh, placing the headphones in my backpack.

“Oh, look who’s up!” Blondie teases, smiling brightly. 

“We’re not close enough for you to try and tease me,” I say.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he says, giving me his best puppy eyes. It makes my fucking skin crawl.

I look at the people around the arch. Maximillian is cracking his knuckles. Clone girl has two copies of herself present, and grimoire guy is chanting spells. I look at the dark tunnels, then turn to my group. “Do we have a flashlight?”

Blondie talks, trying to get me to pay attention, but Bay waves a flashlight, and I nod. “Cool. We’re leaving.”

And with that, I walk off. Blondie keeps talking, looking after me. He even tries to walk after our group, but very gently and very firmly, Opal pushes him to the side. “Stay here,” they say. “It’s gonna be safer.”

The man blinks at them, then laughs. “I don’t need safety, I just wanna-”

Opal looks at them, and this time, they place a hand on his shoulder. “Stay,” they say. 

Again, he tries to protest. But Opal holds down his shoulder, very firmly. I brush my senses against him. 

[Fighter, lv. 14]

Yeah right. Fuck that. 

“C’mon, at least tell me your name,” he asks.

“I’m Gem,” Opal says. “And you?”

He smiles, wide. “Vincent. I told you last time, actually.” Then, finally, he takes a step back. “Hope to see you again.”

Opal teleports to catch up with us, and I’m glad he finally backed up. I was going to stab him soon, otherwise. Even now, I still feel that discomfort clawing at me, and I have to [Suppress] the sensation. 

Slowly, step by step, the noise of the gathering gets drowned out as we walk deeper into the cave. Instead, the chittering of insectoid legs gets louder. I pull out a knife, wishing I had a bigger weapon to swing around. Actually…

Mana gathers at the tip of the weapon, solidifying, extending outward. It turns it from a knife into a proper dagger, giving me another couple inches of range. The mana is thin, drawing from my regeneration, but if I break it off inside something, it might mess up their skills. A thin smile crawls onto my face. Magic is so awesome.

[Solidification 5 > 6]

Opal blinks again, then falls in lockstep with me, eyeing my enhanced dagger. It glows a little in the darkness, though Bay’s flashlight is way, way brighter. “Whoowee!” they hum. “Lovely piece of work there, Snow! In a few hundred levels, you might be able to make a sword like mine.”

I smile. “Yeah, yeah,” I say.

“Enemies incoming,” Thatch warns us, his eyes glowing, and almost immediately, Opal’s playful attitude vanishes. The smile on their face is replaced with a serious nod, and they point their sword forward, quickly heading to the front of the group. Inu takes her spot next to them.

And then, all at once, I see them. Bay’s cone of light sweeps across the cave, and there’s dozens. Spiders hang from the ceiling, centipedes skitter across the ground. There are massive beetles clinging to the walls of the cave, too.

“Do insects even smell things?” Thatch asks.

These are each as big as dogs. “Probably,” I say. “These do at least.”

“Ants generally smell with their antennas,” Amelie enlightens us.

“There are no ants among these,” Thatch notes.

“And you should be grateful for that. A colony can have millions of members. We would die, almost certainly,” the girl confirms. Her puppets walk to the front, too, one a metal vine, slithering across the floor, and another one a headless armor from the Dreadburg.

I stand behind our vanguard, smiling just a little. The insects charge, a rolling tide of chitin and legs. We won’t kill them all, but that’s fine. We’ll farm some of the experience while the others behind us regroup, wait for party members, or seek out different tunnels. 

My mana moves again. It twists and roils, and a thin tether of [Selection] sneaks forward. But there are dozens of insects, so I don’t select any one of them. Instead, I apply it to an area. If I could reduce my world down to a tiny point, then surely I can widen my selection, too.

[Selection 7 > 8]

It’s hard, but I press on through the barrier, braving the strain on my head. The insects chitter ever closer, towards the light, towards the morsel we represent. And then, my [Suppression] comes down.

The entire area I have selected suddenly becomes heavier. Spiders drop from the ceiling, smacking into the centipedes on the floor. Beetles lose their hold on the walls. Bloody tears pool from my good eye as I strain to maintain the skill, mana tearing through my infantile channels. 

I’m not far enough into my build to do this, but I don’t care. Limits? Those are for nerds.  

[Suppression 8 > 9]

My skill levels as I mess with the mana pattern, and yet more insects fall. Rather than a charge, it turns into a train wreck. Centipedes crawl over spiders, legs thrashing against each other. Tough beetles squish the others beneath them. The insects descend on the dead immediately. It turns into a messy pile of havoc.

[You have killed a lv. 5 Cavern Centipede]

[You have killed an lv. 8 Ironhide Beetle]

[You have killed a lv. 3 Webweaver]

[You have killed a…]

Gravity does much of my job, and I cause havoc. My party does not need to see it twice. They descend on the mob like harpies, carving through it. Kuro snakes out from my shadow, devouring a bit of chitin, and sometimes striking up at the undersides of insects when they get a chance. 

Blocks of fire and ice descend onto the small horde, as Richard and Jess begin their barrage. Jess sends electricity pulsing through them. Opal and Inu keep any away from the squishier members of our group, and occasionally, a barrier snaps out from Norman. Thatch is tearing the things apart with his bare hands alongside Dar…

Strangely, It feels wonderful. I channel more and more mana into the suppression, supporting the pile up. I smile. It’s bloody and disgusting. The noise and squelching is terrible. I wish Sylves were awake to see it, but we stride on. Slowly but surely, the charge breaks around us. 

Some of the insects make it through, of course, and I cut a centipede in half with my dagger, stabbing downwards around my legs. A beetle tries to nibble on my ankle, and Kuro absolutely shreds the thing, spilling ichor all over my shoes. It’s sticky, and my socks squelch. The texture makes me wanna tear off my feet, but I [Suppress] the disgust.

Quite frankly? The blood flowing from my eyes is more pleasant than needing to deal with the sensory nightmare going on in my shoes right now.

Instead, I just focus on walking forward. Slowly, people’s eyes trail to me, and there are nods. “We move,” I say, and that’s exactly what we do.

The tide of insects breaks around us. My area of crushing [Suppression] moves forward with each step I take. Amelie creates more puppets from the intact corpses, using them to weave a barrier around our sides, and letting the insects pool past. They devour some of their own remains, and even more scuttle past us into the cavern… and yet more break against us.

[Level up! 17 > 18]

More mana, again. My reserves refill, my control sharpens as the moments go by, and we walk. And walk, and walk, and walk.

Magic Breaker Ch 37-39

Chapter 37: Ascension

“I want to climb,” Opal says.

It took a little while for everyone to wake up. Bay was tired after yesterday’s wall-disassembly escapades, but as we all eat a little bit of crappy dried food for breakfast, Opal speaks.

Sylves readily agrees. “Me too,” she says.

“Yeah,” Thatch says. “I don’t wanna be powerless again.” He gives me a glance.

I nod. “We’re climbing,” I say. It’s not a question, even as I see Norman frown slightly. Dar seems pleased, while Richard is entirely preoccupied with shovelling the remains of our campfire in her mouth. 

“Do we have to go up?” Jess asks. It’s not insecure in the way I expected. She’s not scared, or intimidated, it’s a genuine question on the necessity of it all.

“No,” I shake my head. “We don’t. I think most descenders will be gone when promising candidates have ascended. Things here will be somewhat safe, somewhat stable, but crappy.”

Inu glances at me, and I nod. She should explain it. I can already feel myself growing tired of talking. “There will be problems staying on Earth,” she says. “I’d wager there’ll be more monster spawns. You’d need to figure out sustainable food, rebuild a modicum of society, and decide how to do wealth. And, of course,” she adds, “there is always the chance of someone coming down and just taking your livelihood.”

“Now, if you stay allied with us, we can smack them around for it afterward,” Opal says. “But that won’t stop anyone in the moment.”

“There is also a chance some of you will be used as hostages,” Sylves adds.

It’s the age old thing. When everyone has superpowers, having bigger superpowers is the best way to defend yourself. Laws are lovely. They are punishments for deeds that make people unsafe. But the guns have already been handed out, and there is nothing better than a really big shield. A bunker. And that needs suitable powers, too.

I take a breath, as Inu goes on. “Earth will need to be restored,” she says. “I’m sure there are people who have jobs, who intend to take care of this place, of our new ‘floor 0’. That’s Earth’s new identity, plain and simple. I don’t intend to be weak. The stronger I am, the more I can help. So, I’ll climb.”

“Why do we need to climb to become strong?” Jess asks again.

Opal laughs, for just a moment. “Because it’s obvious,” they say. “This place, the tower, wants us to be strong. To put on a show. To reach as high as we can. Burn like brilliant little fireworks. I don’t intend to burn out, though.” A vicious grin slowly spreads on their face. “I intend to climb.”

“Some people have advantages on us,” Thatch notes. “People who were integrated before. Maybe even people who were born in the tower. We don’t know how big it is, how long it has been around, which planets it has been to, whether it’s limited to our universe. There are descenders, though. People who have made it high up, and came back down. Somewhere in the ascension, there is inherent power.”

“Climbing is probably a way to level supremacy,” Sylves says, and I nod. “Proving to the tower, to the world at large, that we are good enough to ascend. Maybe there are limits placed, depending on what floor we reach. Soft caps, or something.”

I nod. “But we’re speculating,” I say, cutting the conversation there. “The only way to find out is to climb. You can come with, or you can stay,” I say, rising to my feet. “I’m climbing. System, how do I ascend?”

At that, the sky breaks.

The eyes part in a few spots, a few thin pieces where something happens, properly.

Pillars of light slam down from the sky. Ascension Wells. The name pops into my head, explaining what they are. Like stairwells, but entirely different. A challenge, placed by the tower itself, tribulation and opportunity at once.

“That’ll do it,” Opal says, smiling, hefting their sword onto their shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Amelie rolls up next to them, wheelchair pushed by one of her puppets. Sylves floats up, Inu rolls her shoulders, and Thatch rubs his eyes. I take a deep breath as we all gather, and head for the nearest ascension well.

“Will there be things to set on fire?” Richard asks.

“Absolutely,” I tell her.

“Delightful.”

- - -

When we near the ascension well, there are gunshot sounds. By now it feels like virtually everyone has a gun, be that from personal ownership, stealing it from a shop, or taking it off the corpse of a police officer. 

It’s in the middle of the forest, and as we break through the tree cover, I immediately spot two dozen people duking it out. The scene is mesmerizing. Skills flying off in all directions, blasts of element, shimmering mana, people swinging weapons, sneaking about… it’s beautiful, in its own messy, chaotic way.

I see a shirtless, built man tossing around boulders. A lanky, scholarly looking person reading from a suspiciously glowing book. A girl that there are two copies of, moving in perfect sync - and for a moment I wonder if they’re twins with a communication skill, or a single person with a clone skill.

Then, I look down.

There’s a glowing circle inscribed in the grass, and as soon as my foot touches it, I get a prompt.

[Ascend?]

Yes.

[Challenge: Sphinx’s Riddle. Your power is without question. Your knowledge as much boon as burden.]

The world around me shimmers. All the other climbers disappear. Everyone gets their own challenge, it seems.

I thought there were some party based ones… but if there are, then I’m not seen as part of our party. That’s fine, though. I don’t mind it. Slowly, I take a deep breath, closing my eyes.

Beneath me, the ground changes to become sand. Dunes and dunes, the illusion stretching on endlessly. I know it’s fake, because the sand doesn’t immediately go into my shoes. In fact, it feels almost soft, rather than the usual uncomfortable, grainy sensation. Like it sticks to itself more than anything else.

For a few brief moments, I enjoy the feeling of the sun on my hair. It’s comfortable for all of ten seconds, then it becomes a little too warm, and the illusion settles down to be more temperate. “You’re adjusting this to be comfortable for me,” I say. “Stop reading my mind.”

“You could tell I appeared?” a feminine voice asks. 

I shake my head, smiling. “No. I just guessed.”

“Fine, then. Do you still want the sun to be cooler?” it asks. 

“Yes,” I agree. I wanted it in the first place, but I also want them to ask, not just assume. “How long do I have here?”

“Time is still the same as outside the illusion. The faster you finish, the greater your rewards.”

For a second, I hum, keeping my eyes closed. “Hmmmmm. Fine,” I say, opening them, looking upon the sphinx. It’s titanic, made from beige stone, yet surprisingly animate. It seems to paw at me, coming up against some sort of barrier. 

“I will give thee riddles three,” it says.

“If I answer wrong?”

The sphinx’s face twists into a feral grin. “I shall eat you.”

A small smirk places itself on my lip. “That’s a lie.”

It, no, she blinks. “How did you know?”

“I just guessed,” I shrug. The creature eyes me curiously, but before she can ask more questions, I speak up again. “Give me your first riddle.”

A moment passes where she just eyes me. With something between curiosity and amusement. Then, she moves on. “This one should be easy for you,” the giant lioness purrs. “It has keys, but no locks. Light and shade, intertwined. It shares things with a circle, and with rejection. What is it?”

Fun. I like riddles. “A piano,” I reply. 

The sphinx grins. “Correct,” it replies. “Pi-a-no. What a silly musical instrument. Do you enjoy playing it?”

I smile a little. “I suppose so? Sure.”

“Next riddle?” she asks, tilting her head.

I nod.

“What can be high or low, must always be cleared, held to yourself or to others, on a fail you might sneer? To pass is the minimum anyone would expect, the very default choice if you want respect. And yet that same thing always runs ahead, low but unreachable, it causes much dread,” the sphinx says.

That is much harder. Much, much harder. At first, I think of… a bar? People want you to pass it, but it moves ahead. Expectations? But those aren’t really held against anyone. 

Then it clicks. “Standards,” I reply. 

Once more, the lioness grins, clapping her rocky paws together. “Wonderful!” she praises. “Delightful. I wish I could ask you more, but I will have to live with this one being my last,” she says.

“Looks down from up high, way up in the sky. Bigger than any human comprehends, and yet so small, it can fit in your hand. And often, so often, it ever falls, and yet never touches the ground at all. What is it?” 

“The sun,” I say with a small smile. 

At that, the sphinx rumbles with laughter. “Yes! Yes. Delightful. I-”

“Sorry, could you talk a little more quietly?” I ask. The thing is big, and its exclamations of happiness, while sweet, are causing me a headache.

“Oh, of course,” she says. “Sorry. I got carried away. You have succeeded my trial, delver, and earned your ascension.”

[Level up! 14 > 15]

All three points go in vessel. The sphinx begins to shimmer and dissipate, the illusion vanishing. Then, it shoots me a grin. “I like you, human! Have a final riddle. I am the solution to any problem. The key to all locks. Enough of me and you shall want for nothing. And yet, I will never be enough. Chase me and you will forever fail, but find me in yourself and you shall prevail!”

And then, the image cracks and falls apart. A final riddle, just for me. The sphinx… was it real? I’m curious. She felt kind. Childish, in some ways, but still sweet. Clearly trying to help me, I think. At least at the end there.

I don’t think she would have been quite as excited to help me if I’d failed her riddles, but that’s okay. If someone insulted my favourite genre of music, I’d probably also be a lot less excited to keep speaking with them. That’s only reasonable, really.

The illusion keeps breaking, flaking away, except this time, I’m not returned to the real world. Instead, as the desert fades, I find myself in a stairwell.

[Challenge completed. Ascend.]

And that’s exactly what I do. The first floor awaits.

Chapter 38: Special Interests

All it takes is a single step on the stairwell. All I’m permitted is one stair upwards, and then the light shunts me right back out. Space twists, and I feel a sense of irreality crawling over my skin like ants. Then that same sensation comes one more time as reality snaps back into place around me.

I made it. The first floor. 

It’s… unlike anything I expected, yet blatantly simple. Behind me, there is a glowing arch, hissing against the fabric of reality. It must be the anchor for our specific ascendancy well, and could probably be used to get back down.

[Congratulations!]

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

Before asking, I take a moment to look around me. The first floor is… dark. That’s the first real thing I notice. I’m underground, in a cavern, with very little light. For once, it feels like I shouldn’t just spend this favour on another training tool.

Granted, at this point, with my job as an enchanter, any magical item was a training tool, since I could take it apart when I was done with it. That sounded fun. What items did I wanna be able to make?

I wanted a soft, lovely hoodie. But that would probably have to wait… for this place, I’d need to focus on my immediate survival needs, first. “I would like a bottle of water that fills itself, distilling it from the air, or purifying any water placed inside it.”

For a moment, there is a delay, as if a hesitation, but then a new notification rings out, granting me my wish.

[Reward: Phial of Refilling.]

The tiny device pops into existence in my hand, weaving itself from magic so delicate it’s impossible to tell what happened. Did the space around me warp, placing it there? Did it get made from pure mana? I trace my fingers across its surface, and feel [Inscription] resonate. There are runes on there, I can tell. 

Slowly, a smile spreads on my face. What does it do? How do I use it? I cannot wait to find out. I sit down on the floor, waiting for the others to appear.

- - -

The second to make it out is Amelie. She looks at me with a frown, creasing her eyebrows, then huffs. “As expected, I suppose,” she mumbles to herself. 

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Hmpf!” she huffs again, looking away. Her puppet turns her wheelchair to face the opposite way from me. “At least this tower has thought out its ascendancy mechanism. I was presented with a ramp.”

“That’s good,” I say.

“My challenge was one of brute strength,” she chatters on. “My puppets had to crush their equals, a mirror image of my summoning, setting a test to my conductive skills. Not that there was any doubt I would succeed.”

“Of course.”

“Would you rather I remain quiet?” she asks. This one isn’t as loud or boisterous as before, and I turn to face her.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t mind either way.”

Somehow, that makes her deflate even more for a moment, before she squeezes the armrests of her wheelchair, and then turns to face me. “Fine,” she says. “Fine. Then I shall keep talking at you.”

I nod, tracing the runes, splitting my attention. “Okay.”

In this case, I don’t mind. The enchanting is a tactile and visual experience, leaving me free to listen to her. My fingers slowly trace the runes while the princess-like girl talks to me. Or, at me, as she so eloquently put it.

“It seems that we will need some items to survive this place,” she notes. “A light source, and something to generate consistent water and food. Do you believe there will be critters in this place? Spiders, centipedes? I’m almost sure there will be. Frankly, I find the idea of comparing my threads to those of spiders rather amusing. I am sure I could learn much from the critters. Do you think having eight hands would suit me, Snow?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Have you considered growing more hands? You could probably carve more enchantments. Well, perhaps you do not yet know where the future leads, and that is fine, too. But I shall wear nothing but the softest silks. I shall have Sylves fashion me a dress-”

“Soft silk?” My ears perk up. “You can make soft stuff?”

“Oh,” she hums, happily. Teasingly. “Did that catch your attention?”

I turn to face her, briefly putting down the vial. I nod, entirely honestly. “Yes. Clothes make me want to tear my skin off, but I hate being naked. It feels disgusting. I like pretty stuff, though I prefer plain colours. Greys and blacks, mostly because I can wear them for a while and no one minds.”

She blinks, surprised at the blatant honesty of my answer, then clears her throat. “Right,” she says. “That… seems in character for you. A peasant like yourself-”

“Don’t talk down to me,” I tell her.

“A person like yourself wouldn’t seem to value embroidery too much. I aim to wear the most wonderful garments,” she says. “I love dresses. Especially white, bridal ones. They are so lovely, you know? I always wanted to have them.”

I nod. “Right,” I say, focussing back on the phial.

With a little bit of surprise, Amelie pauses, then laughs a little. “Well. I wouldn’t want to marry, of course. I have no real interest in other people. Romantic or sexual.”

Ever so slightly, I incline my head. Half at curiosity at the rune, half at her. “I see. Aroace?” I ask.

She nods. “So it would seem. And yet, the bridal dresses always seemed alluring. Imagining the way they fall, the sounds they’d make if I walked in them- ah.” She pauses. “I could never walk in them, of course. But it is a dream for that very reason, isn’t it? Because it’s unattainable.”

“I always wanted to learn magic,” I say.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Amelie asks with a slight laugh. “I also always imagined myself learning magic. Slinging fireballs, or raising necromantic armies. Amusing thoughts, nothing else. And yet, here we find ourselves, do we not?” 

Another pause in the conversation. Amelie looks at me for a long moment. “You’re surprisingly easy to talk to,” she notes.

“Sure,” I nod. It didn’t feel like I particularly contributed to that conversation, but I don’t mind if she got joy out of it. Her interest in soft cloth only stands to benefit me. I smile a little at the thought. I need to learn how to make self repairing enchantments as soon as possible. The softest shirt awaits me.

“Thank you for your company, Snow,” Amelie says.

I give her a look. Pulling myself away from the item. I look at the girl in her wheelchair. Maybe this is one of those times where I should try to be kind? Probably. I can tolerate her, I suppose. “Sure. Wanna talk about your favourite dresses a bit more?” I ask.

She smiles, happily. “Gladly.” For a little while longer, she proceeds to talk, thoroughly enjoying herself.

And then, after some time, the arch behind us lights up again.

Chapter 39: Grouping Up

With some surprise, I note that the next person to emerge is Norman, of all people. I kind of expected him to fail his challenge, but he makes it through, shortly followed by Jess. 

The man stumbles out of the portal, crashing against the rocky wall, barely catching himself, then slowly sliding to the floor. He’s bloody, hurt and in pain, but he laughs. “I survived,” he says, his voice rough.

Jess, compared to him, walks through with cold dignity. When her eyes fall on me, she smiles faintly, too, that facade of untouchability softening. “Hello, Snow. Amelie. I see you have also made it,” she says.

“It’s okay to cry,” I tell her, holding my phial in one hand as I walk over to Norman. Gently, I [Select] him, then I twist my mana in that strange pattern, knitting the worst of his wounds closed. To him, I say different words than to his wife. “You levelled,” I say. I checked. “Place a point in heart.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding out,” I say. “Place a point in heart. I don’t wanna waste more mana on you than I need, in case someone else gets hurt.”

Jess, behind me, stands frozen like a statue, staring at me and her husband. I throw her a glance. “It’s okay to cry,” I repeat, with the same calm indifference as before. There is nothing special about the statement, really. It’s silly for me to give her that permission, but…

Her expression remains cold. “Thank you, Snow, but I’m okay.” 

Turns out Jess is a liar. Well, I tried. Letting her be stoic, I turn back to Norman, and it seems he finally decides to listen to me, as his skin knits back together. He grimaces, and I [Suppress] his pain a bit. “Damn it,” he winces. “You couldn’t have let me enjoy the win a bit longer? Said it a bit more nicely?”

“Said what more nicely?” I ask, tilting my head. 

“Calling me a waste of mana,” he says, staring me down.

I shrug. “You had points. But, sorry.” 

With that, the conversation is over. Jess kneels down to him. “I got an item for water,” I tell them. “Please use your requests to sort out food and light, maybe shelter.”

“Requests?” Norman asks. “What requests?”

Hmmm. Maybe they didn’t earn any. Or they haven’t read the notifications yet. Oh well. I trace the runes on the phial again, waiting for the arch to glow and spit out someone else - and it does. Not a member of our group, though. It’s the shirtless man, broad shouldered. He whistles as he looks around, his torso covered in cuts.

“Whoooowee!” he says. “This place rocks. Who’re you people?” 

I don’t reply. He steps towards me, sitting on the floor, closest to the arch, and reaches for my shoulder. I pull a knife and-

“Don’t touch Snow,” Amelie warns him, and the man stops. 

Slowly, he turns to the girl, running a hand through his dark beard, grinning widely. “Or what, girly?” he asks. 

Amelie looks to me in reply. I say nothing, and the man’s eyes drift to me again. Then, he breaks out in laughter. “My, my! You’re a boisterous little rascal,” he says noisily. “Bahahaha! I like youse. Join my team.”

“No,” I reply.

“Come on. They’ll be through any-” 

“No.”

At that, he raises his hands. “Fine, fine! No need to give me that look. I’ll be… sitting in that corner exactly, until the rest of my comrades show up, yeah? Ah, if you hurt any of ‘em, I might needa smack you a bit, yeah?” he flashes me a smile at that last bit.

It feels a little like a promise. Then, he heads off to the side, sitting in the corner he gestured at. I take a long, deep breath. What a pain. A cavern, slowly filling with people. What a nightmare.

One by one, people trickle in. I focus on the small things, engaging with Amelie and the enchantments. Thatch comes with Inu, both in one piece, Opal with Richard, mildly injured but okay. I save my mana, even now. Until Sylves comes through.

Missing an arm.

I dart to her side, and she stumbles into my arms. There is no talking, things just happen. Inu uses [Empathy], and some of that pain flows into me, and some into her, being [Resisted] and [Suppressed]. Richard helps, too, and I see Amelie already creating bandages from her silk. 

Very, very gently, me and Opal lean her against the wall on the cavern. The muscular man gives us a sad look, but I ignore him entirely. Instead, I focus, sharpening my mind more than ever before. I forget about the runes, about enchanting, about taking things apart. I focus on choosing. 

With everything I have, [Selection] triggers.

The world becomes like the point of a needle. I forget the cavern, I forget her pain, none of it matters. Everything falls away to the single purpose I have. Healing her arm. Making the waterfall of blood stop.

[Selection 6 > 7]

I breathe. Letting it all fall away, pouring myself into the mission. There is a task to be done, and nothing else matters.

Mana courses through me. It’s allowed to exist in this minimized world of mine. Brilliant strings of blue and grey in my chest. But right now, I need them to do a specific thing. To stop the bleeding. To turn into muscle and flesh and veins and to close the wound. 

Strand by strand, I twist the mana, the world slowing down. I’ve practiced this a hundred times over and was deemed not good enough. Now is my chance. Now, I need Sylves to survive. Not to bleed out. 

I form that shape, the terribly complicated one, reduced down to something just mildly horrifying. My eyes bleed, I’m sure, but it doesn’t matter. I cast the spell, and it lands on Sylves. Her skin wriggles, growing back slightly, but it is not enough. 

Again. I pour more mana into it. I simplify things, I make them as easy to understand, as efficient as I can possibly make them. I trace an even simpler design onto her with my finger, faintly glowing lines in the air. My hand is steady, unshaking, unwavering.

It is not enough.

With every slowing beat of Sylves heart I feel my own failure creep in on me. I discard that fear, and focus the world in tighter. Sylves’ face fades from view. My own legs disappear. It is me and the wound.

I cast the spell, and the skin wriggles once more, and I know that it will never be enough.

Another reduction. Less. Less. The muscles don’t matter. I don’t need to regrow anything, not yet. I just need her to live. Everything non-vital gets discarded. Skin? Who cares. Muscles? Unnecessary. Veins. Those, I need to close.

A deep breath. Another, twisted, malformed cast. A spell that doesn’t reinforce, that doesn’t properly heal, it’s about survival. It’s about keeping the heart beating.

My mana strikes forward, a torrent of it, through all of the inefficiencies, the simplified pattern traced onto her arm - and it works. My mana threads into the wound, seeping into it as a tiny cloud of dull white, and the blood slows. 

One more cast, this time, pouring even more power into it, scraping against the bottom of my vessel. I have it. I hold the spell. I modify it one more time, carefully, only doing what I know, with certainty, will succeed. It must be enough. In this reduced world, my will imposes itself on reality and demands it be enough.

[New Skill acquired!]

[Flesh Restoration 0 > 1]

Mana spins, whirls, creates fractalling patterns that cycle in on themselves, complex patterns that are just a bit better than I ever could have made them, then courses into the wound. Her arteries close. Her veins grow shut, making tiny cycles to allow for circulations.

It’s an ugly, raw thing. Her skin hangs off it in loose flaps, torn and sheared muscle fibres still meeting open air. But the wound is closed. No more blood.

I breathe a shaky breath, and the world comes back into focus. Sylves’ eyes are closed, but her heart beats. Another breath. My pants are stained with a pool of blood. Sylves’ chest rises and falls.

It was enough. 

Magic Breaker Ch 34-36

Chapter 34: Enchanting

I want it. Instantly, without a moment of hesitation, I know I want it. It has to be a job, right? Enchanting. It has to be.

What else is enchanted? The lines are so tiny, I can barely see them with my eyes. I only noticed cuz the crystal was covered with mana.

“Opal, give me your sword,” I demand.

“Huh!” they yelp, clutching the blade. “What are you planning to do with it?!”

I blink. “Stop being silly,” I say. “I wanna take a look.”

“Yeah,” Thatch nods, grabbing in Opal’s direction. “Hand it over.”

They roll their eyes, cutting the teasing short. “Fine, fine. Just don’t damage it.”

Instantly, I snatch the sword from them, running my fingers over the metal. Thatch stares intently, eyes glowing. Nothing. Nothing. My finger catches.

A thin, tiny line. So faint I can barely feel it, but it’s there. Disguised by the finish on the steel. I trace it, and the line curves, curling in on itself. Then there’s a jagged edge and it splits into two parts. A pattern.

Step by tiny step, I trace it, making sure to memorize the shape. Enchanting. Real, honest to god, enchanting. Hells yes. I want a shirt enchanted to be as soft as possible. One that doesn’t stain with blood, and that repairs itself, too! Something that hides my silhouette and that's comfortable to wear forever!

I wanna take their sword apart. The temptation to cast [Deconstruction] on it is real, but all I do is trace the lines and memorize them. If this goes on, I really do need to work on a structured way of remembering things soon. Maybe build myself a mind palace or something.

At that, I cut my errant thoughts off, focussing on my task. Distantly, I notice Amelie, Jess, Norman, Inu and Opal as well as Dar and Richard head into the maze. Me and Thatch take the enchantments in, while Bay is going ham on the wall and Sylves hovers in the air, stitching fabrics together.

Opal takes their sword back, and I let them. I know the pattern well enough, now, instead focussing on the crystal gain. “Thatch?” 

“Yeah?”

“You seen it all?”

“One more minute,” he asks, and I nod, tracing the lines with my finger.

I feel impatient. I wanna know what it does. How does it store mana? How can I take it for myself? Can I craft these? I could store mana while I sleep and practice more during the day… or power bigger spells all at once. 

After a little bit, Thatch taps me. “All done.”

He doesn’t need to tell me twice. Without hesitation, I absorb most of the mana in the crystal, filling me back up to halfway, then instantly pour that all into a [Deconstruction]. Could I use the stone as a battery? Yes. Absolutely, I could.

I don’t care. It cracks, breaks into a thousand tiny pieces, but I don’t care. Already, my skill reveals the structure that the runes take, and compared to the skills I’ve been looking at, it’s so simple. My right eye starts bleeding again, but compared to the healing spell? This is nothing.

Every bit of it, each tiny curve, I remember. I grab my needle of solid mana and a piece of metal, and scratch away. “Put my headphones on me,” I tell Thatch, and they do as I ask.

The word disappears. Faint music plays, but there’s no lyrics, nothing to distract me, even the sticky feeling of the headphones against my burnt flesh forgotten. It’s just me, full focus, in the silence. I use my mana-needle as a stylus. The lines are ugly and rough, but I mimick Opal’s sword. I mimic the way the crystal works. I scratch it all into the metal.

Minutes tick by as I work feverishly. I don’t care about the dungeon anymore, or whether it’ll give me a minor request. I’d been planning to ask for info on what job suited me best anyway, but now? I wanted to enchant. 

With Bay’s help, I might be able to turn mana into electricity. I’d be able to run my phone as a music player forever. Just turn off the outside world, never need to worry about bringing chargers. Maybe even self repair stuff on my headphones, so they never break…

Yes. I want it.

Only a little more time passes, and then my crude runes are done. The metal was tough to affect, but my solid mana did it. I fed it a bit of my regeneration, keeping the tip of the needle sharp. Now, I have a slab of coppery metal with flat runes carved into it.

The ones from the crystal were meant to be circular, so it’s a botched job. The ones from Opal’s blade I don’t understand as well, so it’s a botched job. I still pour mana into them, activating them.

In my hand, the plates turns searing hot. I drop it without hesitation. There’s a horrible screech, and the metal twists in on itself, ruining all the work I’ve done. But still. I smile.

Whatever I fucked up, it certainly had an effect. Not the intended one, not at all, but it did. I enchanted something! 

A laugh bubbles out of me, and the system agrees. 

[Congratulations!]

It pipes up. “Yeah,” I say, grinning. “I did it. That was an enchantment.”

[You have gained access to your job through essence and skill.]

[Additional details will be revealed. Brace.]

I’m already sitting, so when the info pours into my head, I don’t mind too much. It’s much the same as what Sylves told me. Jobs are paths that are somewhat explored, that we are encouraged to experiment on. Our innovations will give us levels and stats, and in exchange, our experiences will provide essence for the system to grant others.

That’s fine. There are some mechanics to keep secrets built in, but right now, I’m way too bad to care for those. Really, this is almost like an investment in education. Raising new generations of craftspeople, so that they can teach more people in turn.

So, we’ll get stats. We’ll get essence packets. But we will not get any materials, needing to find those ourselves. Can we direct the essence we get? Can we ask questions? Will we get multiple packets from the same teacher? I wanna know it all, but it doesn’t tell me.

And that’s entirely fine, too. I’ll find out, after all. For now, I want to know my options. Just like classes, jobs stack, giving increasingly higher stat bonuses. For now, I want to see them.

[Job Options: <Tinkerer>, <Preserver>, <Musician>, <Enchanter>, <Moonlight Weaver>, <Firestarter (sponsored)>, <Pathetic Politician (sponsored)>, <Darkfletcher (sponsored)>, <Agonyforger (sponsored)>] 

I frown. “System, please, in the future, exclude options that are intended to directly sabotage my potential.”

[Job Options: <Tinkerer>, <Preserver>, <Musician>, <Enchanter>, <Moonlight Weaver>, <Darkfletcher (sponsored)>, <Agonyforger (sponsored)>]

As I thought. Two of the powers with an eye of me seem genuinely interested in my growth. They seem to view me positively, for one reason or another. Firestarter was probably granted by whatever decided to give me the lovely brand on my molten face, and the politician class was for the thing that saw me when we crushed the mayor, its sponsored champion.

[The Deceptive Manipulator smirks as you discover their trick.]

I shake my head at that. Someone who’s in it for the game of it all, then? How annoying.

Still, I’m not about to rely on the goodwill of these critters to rise above, even if they currently want to support me. No. I’ll do it my way. Without hesitation, I pick enchanter.

[Job gained: <Enchanter>]

[Stat bonuses: +1 Vessel per level]

[Experience modules: Enchanting]

And then, the big one. Every class, every job, bestows something upon acquisition. 

[Essence Bestowed: Runecraft.]

Information floods into me. It’s a little more gentle, more slow than the lake, but it still feeds me. Like a textbook, with guidance and diagrams on how to cut. How to create runes, how to place them on flat surfaces, how to etch them onto metal, what tools to use, how to fuel them… 

Feverishly, I pounce on another discarded plate of metal from Bay, pulling out my needle. I will it to change shape, feeding it mana, solidifying more and more of that magic, and pushing it into a shape more suited to carving metal, a somewhat proper enchanting stylus.

[Solidification 4 > 5]

It’s the biggest I’ve made my construct until now, but it works. The mana comes together. It feeds off my regeneration, and I begin to dig into the metal. Carving away, following my memory, letting the essence-based intuition guide me. 

Bit by bit, I carve away pieces of metal. It bends a bit under the force of the style, the walls becoming a little more dense than they otherwise should. I know I’m introducing stress and flaws into the metal. That my lines are ugly and larger than they need to be. That I’m missing key parts of the enchantment. 

And I don’t care. It doesn’t need to be pretty. It just needs to work. I wanna enchant something, properly enchant it. And then, when I finish the last line, it glows. I’m out of mana. “Feed it a bit, Thatch,” I tell him, my mouth feeling dry.

The music in my ears stops his answer from coming through, but he does as asked. Mana flows into the rune, and the copper plate glows a little. It’s not thick, but not thin enough to cut, either. Yet, when I press it against my palm, my skin splits, and I bleed.

A laugh bubbles out from my throat, as my shadow greedily devours the crimson drops. “Hahaha. Hahahaha. Ahahahaha!” It’s magic. Something I made. And the world listens to it.

[New Skill acquired!]

[Inscription 0 > 1]

[Job Up! Enchanter 0 > 2]

A new skill. Not bestowed on me, but earned. I figured it out. Found the lines. Learned them. Reproduced them. A grin spreads on my face. There really is nothing more magical than, well, magic!

Next to me, a part of the wall explodes in Bay’s face, and she laughs alongside me. There’s something wonderful about taking things apart.

Chapter 35: Spending the Night

By the time the others come back out of the maze to the edge of the grove, we’re covered in soot. Bay’s hands and face are stained with oil, and so are mine from taking apart more of the maze. Thatch pointed out interesting sections with his eyes. Bay [Deactivated] the most fragile components. Then I took them apart, and we fell onto the parts like rabid beasts.

Bay already got the <Mechanic> job, way before I picked up mine. It’s okay. I’m too happy with <Enchanter> to care at all. Thatch doesn’t pick up a job quite yet, but I can tell he’s gotten close. I wonder what flavour he’ll want?

Jess, Norman and Amelie come back out with classes, and everyone’s levels are higher. By now, all of us except Bay have a class. Me, Bay and Sylves have jobs, too. I’ll let the others decide for themselves what they want to do. I’m sure they’ll figure it out.

For now, I’m rather pleased with my progress. When I look at the sky, I find that most of the day has faded, but it’s not been without gains. We’ve torn down twelve sections of wall. Bay fashioned herself a gauntlet of whirring gears that makes a noise as if it could tear her arm off.

Whenever she sends a pulse into it, the thing extends a set of nasty claws rather quickly. It’s a terrifying construction, and I don’t think I’d wanna take a hit from it.

I love it.

“You look like shit,” Opal informs me, helpfully. 

They do have a point. I was wearing my headphones over the burnt side of my face, and it took a good bit of water to wash the dried blood off of them without damaging them. Now, they’re safely tucked away in my backpack again. “Yeah,” I reply, simply.

Looking at my skills, I think it’s worth it.

[Inscription 1 > 2]

[Inscription 2 > 3]

[Job up! Enchanter 2 > 4]

The extra points in vessel help me regenerate my mana just a little bit faster, so I pour another bit into the healing spell. By now, after casting it a few more times over the course of the day, whenever I had mana to spare, my face is looking a little better. Not good, not even close. But better.

I’m still blind in one eye, though, and I don’t think that’ll change soon. It makes the whole “carving inscriptions” bit harder. That’s fine, too. I don’t mind the challenge. Slowly, I let my manic focus on enchanting fade. It was fun, really. There is some very satisfying joy to be won from carving enchantments. A little like drawing, back when I did more of that.

Not that I’ve made something useful quite yet, but that’s okay. My next essence packet is coming in a single level, but I hold off from practicing more. I take a breath, sit back, and focus on surviving. It’s evening, and Richard seems at her highest awareness.

She sits down next to me, giving a small sigh. I tilt my head a little at the gesture. “Tired,” she says. I tilt my head more, and she gives a wry smile. “People tired.”

Ah. That makes sense. I nod, then look away, letting the Hiy’ht recover her social battery in peace. Dar is asking Opal to spar, and the enby agrees with a reluctant sigh. I can see that they want to, though. Bay ruffles Thatch’s hair as he works through some more mechanical bits. 

I see Amelie shift her focus from her puppets, now a pile of armor and a vine made from machine gears and interlocking scales and plates, to her strings in general. She sits in her wheelchair and slowly weaves them, creating interlocking bits of fabric.

Sylves floats in the air, stitching cloth together, and throwing glances at whatever the girl in the wheelchair is doing. She’s probably hungry for more fabric, I note, so if Amelie could make more… well. I’m sure Sylves would be rather happy.

Then there’s Norman and Jess, who are trying out their new class abilities. Norman fades from my view, and Jess actually seems to pull a ball of fire from thin air, having it float just slightly above her hand. Huh.

Inu also moves to sit down next to me, looking up into the sky. She doesn’t say anything. Just looks up, at the eyes and the stars behind them. Slowly, I open my mouth to talk. “Long day?” I ask.

She hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head. “No, actually,” she says. “That’s what scares me. It went by so fast. I almost had fun in there. Breaking the robots.”

“Scared?” I ask.

“Ah. It makes me feel… unkind,” she says.

I nod. “Yeah, I get that.”

She snickers, laughing a little. “You would,” she says. Then, she lets out a long, quiet sigh. “Yeah, you would.”

“You’re a kind person, Inu,” I tell her. 

“How would you know?” she smirks. It’s bait. She just wants to hear it, and that’s okay.

I smile, just a little. “Well. My first skill was [Suppression], right? Remind me what yours was?”

Faintly, her lips curl. “Empathy.”

“Yeah,” I say. “You care. You make an effort to keep others comfortable. You want people to be safe, and you try to keep them safe. That’s kind, isn’t it?”

A long moment passes quietly. “Yeah,” she sigh and pouts. “I suppose it is.” She nods, then takes another pause. “Can I have a hug?”

“Sure,” I say. Gently, I wrap my arms around her. She leans into me, and I hold her for a little while.

The apocalypse is difficult. For her more than for me, probably. But she’s trying. She really is. The moments tick by. Eventually, she pulls back, crossing her legs, looking at the star-studded, Eye-covered sky. Then, I ask.

“What job are you planning on getting?” I ask.

“It’s silly,” she says.

“Then I wanna know even more.” I smirk.

Inu rolls her eyes at me, then sighs playfully. “Fine. Therapist.”

“Huh?” 

She turns a bit red. “Therapist. That’s… that’s gotta be a job, right? Surely. It’s a path, meant to do a thing that helps others and-”

“It’s awesome,” I tell her. The words are so genuine that she pauses. 

“What?”

“It’s awesome,” I repeat. “And a great goal. I think you got this.”

She just looks at me for a bit, then turns away. “Thanks,” she says, eventually. “What do you think is next?” she asks.

“We hide,” I say. “Spend the night here, hope none of the descenders catch us, and we see what the next stage of integration is about.”

Slowly, Inu nods. “Okay,” she says. “I can do that.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll keep everyone safe.”

“What if I’m worrying about you, too?” she asks.

I smirk. “Then that’d make you a rather kind person.”

She laughs. Out loud, happily, for a long moment. “You’re such an idiot, Snow.”

“One tries,” I say, smiling. Then the expression slowly fades. “One tries.” Because effort is all I can give.

Chapter 36: Final Stage

Night falls. We eat our crappy meals. We sit, and we talk, and sometimes practice our abilities. I practice the most, of course, while the others are content to relax just a bit. I don’t hold it against them, though I see my friends engage in little bits of practice, almost unconsciously.

Inu taps her leg, her hand bouncing up and down from her class ability. Opal runs a finger along their blade, and the small sound it makes echoes. I see Sylves float in the air, humming an eerie tune while she stitches more clothes, and Thatch meditates, his mana circulating. 

They’re not at all lazy. In fact, they might be even more exceptional than me. I need to focus on the things I do, on suppressing my pain, practicing the healing spell, analyzing all the bits of magic I stole, repeating the runes I know, and solidifying more mana. Compared to me, they seem to almost automatically do the things they wanna do.

Compared to me, they really look like prodigies. I smile, pleased with that thought.

I don’t pay much mind to the others. They’re free to do their own thing, and I have too much to learn.

Eventually, though, sleep catches me. Just for an hour or three, but after last night? I needed them. Badly. 

Richard wakes me up. She doesn’t touch me, but chitters her mandibles close to me, making me open my eyes. The moon’s high in the sky, dim light filtering through the eyes. “Almost time,” the hiy’ht reminds me.

“Thanks,” I nod.

Slowly, more minutes drift by, and then, the darkness creeps in. This time, it feels staticy. Charged. Different.

Just before the world darkens entirely, I see everyone wake up. All of them, parents, kids, aliens. And then, that black, all-consuming static takes over the entire world.

[Congratulations!]

The message appears, just as usual, but this time it seems more solid. Loud and ephemeral. Like it’s flickering in front of my inner eye, vanishing and reappearing. It feels… violent. Foreboding.

I breathe, and the world makes my hair stand on end. It feels like I’m being pulled in all directions at once.

[You have survived the fourth stage of descent. Final stage of descent imminent. Prepare.]

The world rumbles. Not like all those times before. Not like when it was allowed for people who could casually melt my face to come down. Not like when it merged multiple planets.

It rumbles as if it’s about to break apart. The amount of power pouring in is horrifying. So much so that I can feel it. The system seems almost absolute. Almost perfect. The way it healed my body when I put stats into it is so infinitely intricate, so tiny and miniscule, so powerful and incredible.

And now, even that amazing creation fails to hide what’s happening. The entire world is brushed with ink, absorbed in staticy darkness, but the flow of power is simply too much. A flood of mana so great it could tear me apart a million times over descends, seeping into the ground, into the world.

[Integration complete. Curious?]

That last word has an edge to it, almost teasing. But I am curious. I want to know. Of course I want to know!

[Species: Homo Sapiens. Two billion five-hundred thirty-three million seven-hundred sixty-two thousand two-hundred and thirty deaths.]

An astronomical number. A third. It’s a third of humanity, gone. Wiped out. Killed by goblins, by aliens, by people coming down from the tower. I look at it for a moment, then I shrug. 

Oh well. I kept everyone safe that I meant to keep safe. Really, I contributed to those deaths, didn’t I?

I chased humans out of a dungeon. Thatch killed two people, I killed one. We could’ve killed more, but we didn’t. I could have saved dozens, but I didn’t. So… oh well. Something something big numbers are just a statistic, right?

Yeah right.

It should hurt, but all I find is a sense of apathy. I don’t really care that much. I even feel a bit superior, almost proud I did better than the dead. And that’s what disappoints me the most about myself. Perhaps, next time, I could try a little harder. But I know I probably won’t. 

Regardless, the static grows, and the world changes some more. I breathe, slowly taking it all in. More info pours into my head, about the way the world works. About leaderboards, about how well I did. About how I can prove I am greater than anyone else.

And then, it stops. I’ve been given the info I need. The stuff that’ll matter on the first floor.

[Retain Anonymity?] 

I nod. Yeah.

[Select Pseudonym.]

My eyes dart over my skill list, and I smile. Yeah, there’s a theme in there. “Ion,” I say.

[Acknowledged.]

[Integration complete.]

[Ascension is now possible. Climb.]

As expected, Earth is floor 0. A new place being integrated into something much, much bigger. I’m a speck of dust, a curiosity, a piece of entertainment, a new toy for descenders and the eyes. 

Yeah. I’ll climb alright. I’ll climb out there, and I’ll pluck those eyes out of the damn sky. Show them what it means to be supreme. I don’t feel any particular need to prove it to others, honestly. I don’t need to step on those weaker than me.

All I need to do is prove to the world that I can go up there. No, not the world. I don’t care about the world. Couldn’t care less.

I’ll prove it to myself. I’ll prove that the me of today is better than the me of yesterday. And the me of tomorrow better do better than the me of today, or I’ll never forgive them. And I’ll forgive my past self for my weakness, too.

A grin spreads on my face. “Alright,” I whisper. “I’ll ascend. As high as I can go.” 

The sky always belonged to me.

The darkness cracks, and recedes, the static lifting. Somehow, it feels like it’s running away from me. 

A new day breaks. The world changes. I welcome it with open arms.

Magic Breaker Ch 31-33

Chapter 31: Stage Four

CW: Gore

The night grows deeper and I work on my spells. I cut my hand again, healing it. I take apart the bits of shadow I took from my once-parasite. Step by slow step, I build a knowledge base. 

It’s a lot. The patterns are intricate, granted by the system. My spells and understandings are crude imitations, like a caveman comparing an especially comfortable to hold rock to an industrial steam hammer.

They’re not the same, but they serve the same function. I understand the principles. Hit a thing, and hit it hard. That kind of logic lets me simplify the healing spell even more, until the horribly complex patterns slowly become manageable.

My mind becomes stronger as I practice, and I simplify the spell, boiling it down to its most essential ingredients. Slowly, but surely, I get closer to recreating it. Only a matter of time.

But before I can finally get there, I allocate my points from the recent level to vessel, bringing it to 37. It strengthens my mana, and the ease at which I sense it. The metaphysical world opens up even more to me. It’s thrilling. And I pour the magical power into my skills, learning, improving, practicing.

[Deconstruction 4 > 5]

With that, my newest skill overtakes [Solidification]. I should be doing more with that skill, really. I’ll get there, though. For now, I just focus, and practice as the hours drift by.

And then, midnight comes.

[Congratulations!]

[You have survived the third stage of descent. Fourth stage of descent imminent. Prepare.]

The world darkens. My senses are eclipsed by that nothingness that creeps in, blanketing everything in a thick, impassable veil. 

[Descent limitations lifted. Integration into floor structure. Armament supply granted.]

And things change. Like before. But by now, my senses were better. I can feel it. Mana pours in from the sky. I look up as the darkness slowly lifts, and there are more eyes now. I feel the ripples. The mana quivers in the changes of the world.

It’s terrifying. My heart beats in my chest. I smile, welcoming it. Descent limits lifted? Then people from higher floors will be coming here. Powerful people. Terrifying people. Armament system? That sounds like weapons and armor, maybe charms. I wonder what kind of magical items there will be.

Can I make more of them? Can I take them apart, and learn from them? I want to know.

Even as my heart beats and I feel like I might die, I want to know. Even as people descend who can kill me, I want to know. Maybe I’ll pick them apart, too. My thoughts get interrupted.

Footsteps.

My head whips around at the sound. I look in the direction of the footsteps. They’re heavy. This isn’t someone who’s trying to hide their presence. 

I grip my axe more tightly, readying myself. Gently, I [Suppress] my heartbeat. It quiets down, and I even out my breathing, making it seem like I’m asleep. Slowly, gently, I close my eyes, relying on what I can hear, smell, and feel.

Someone enters the clearing. It sounds like they have two legs, bipedal. I hear them walk in, stop, and then their gaze drifts over us. Nothing else. A shiver runs down my spine. I’m sure they analyzed me, but I can’t tell. I didn’t feel their mana, but I’m very sure they checked out my level and class.

But they are a void to me. No mana leaks from them, not a single drop. The mana in the air fluctuates around them like it always does. I want to know how they do it, but I don’t dare select them.

They step further in, and I hear them touch the water. It splashes, just slightly. They click their tongue. 

More footsteps, as they walk over to where Opal sleeps. A sound, metal faintly rustling against metal. Are they wearing gloves? Testing Opal’s sword? I hear them click their tongue again, disapproving.

Footsteps, a pause. Footsteps. Pause. Again, and again, until they’re in front of me. I know they’re there. I try not to breathe too loudly. Just hoping to not be noticed. They reach down. I can feel heat emanating from them. 

Their hand stops just before my face. It feels like a distant bonfire. Slowly, it gets hotter. After a few seconds, it feels like I’m close to a fire. I wait more. The heat increases. It goes from uncomfortable to painful, but I keep my eyes closed. Breathing a bit faster, simulating unruly sleep.

My skin begins to blister and bubble. It hurts.

“Open your eyes,” they say. The voice is melodic, calm, inviting. I keep them closed.

They move closer and my skin burns. Blisters crack. I think I can hear myself sizzle. It smells of cooking meat. I set my jaw, holding back a scream of pain. 

“You’re awake,” they whisper, cruelly. “Open. Your. Eyes.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my lips together, and enduring. No skills, nothing. My flesh melts, bit by agonizing bit. My eyeball begins boiling, I think. It hurts and I feel tears gather on my face, but I hold down the scream.

Then I can’t do it anymore. Against my will, I feel [Suppression] activate. A tiny, internal cast, just to reduce the pain, and it works. Thank fuck it works. The pain gets better. I keep my eyes shut. 

“Look at me,” they demand. “I need you to look at me!” they hiss.

Not a peep, not a noise, not a blink. My eyes stay shut, my mana doing tiny little circles inside to suppress the pain, even as the smell of burnt hair and cooking meat spreads. Not a noise. 

I hear them click their tongue, angrily this time. Then they pull their hand back. Footsteps, as they disappear. I wait, for a long, long while. Maybe the footsteps were just an illusion. I keep my eyes closed, only [Suppressing] the pain as my flesh slowly, horribly, begins to cool. 

That’s the worst part. When the heat is gone, that’s when the pain really sets in. But still, I don’t dare cast my healing spell. Someone might still be out there.

Only when Inu rushes to me in the morning, shaking me, asking me to wake up, do I finally let myself scream.

I try to open my eyes, and the left one is seared shut. It hurts, so, so bad, but I can finally [Suppress] it properly. I breathe, heavily, then I throw up on the ground. It’s miserable. I feel bad, worse than I ever have, but I also know who to get revenge against. Who to fuck up.

[You have caught the Eye of the Flametouched.] 

My newest sponsor sure has gone out of their way to make me hate them. Just they wait. I’ll frick them up.

Full of anger, I cast my first healing spell. My focus fails. The spell implodes. My left eye opens, and droves of blood pours out. I’m in agony, and the target’s notification hovers in front of the one eye I can still see out of.

Fucker.

Chapter 32: How to Hide

When the others wake up, they look at my face. At the upper left part of it, my skin is burnt. More than burnt. Bits of bone are showing, my blood having boiled away. My left eye was seared shut, then tore open when my healing spell failed. And it really, really hurts. 

But I defied that bastard. 

[Level Up! 13 > 14]

My higher heart stat helped me resist the damage a bit. I can already tell it’s trying to heal me, again. I put a point in it, but it barely speeds up the process, now. Which makes sense. There isn’t much a single point will do compared to the amount I already have in it. But I catch another glimpse of the mana structure, figuring out a few flaws of my healing spell.

It’ll come together, and then I’ll get my eye back. 

Two points go into vessel, since getting my eye to function again is personal, now. It’s mine to regenerate. And maybe walking about with a bit of bone showing will train up my heart stat. Hah. 

Bay can barely look at me. But I don’t mind too much. This is entirely fine. Maybe this way no one will ask me to smile more. “You look like shit,” Opal politely reminds me.

“Why thank you, I did sleep really rather poorly,” I tell them.

“Want me to princess carry you?” they ask, half genuine.

“Absolutely not,” I say, smiling just a bit. 

Jess uses [Freeze] to cool down the wound just a bit, even as she looks away. “What even happened?” she asks, shakily.

I take a moment to collect my breath. Luckily, my mouth is intact, so I can still have a resting deadpan expression. “Well,” I say. “People from higher floors can come down here, now. I think an avatar of one of the Eyes was trying to recruit me.”

[The Master of Suffering delights in your agony.]

“Shit,” Bay says. “That’s gotta be bad, right?”

Thatch nods. “Yeah. If they can do that to us in the best case…”

“I’m sure they have some restrictions,” Inu says. “Or Snow wouldn’t have a face at all, anymore.”

Norman holds his face in his hands. I can tell he wants to speak, but doesn’t dare. I look at him, and he makes contact with my one good eye. The other one is bloodshot and sticky with fluid. He flinches. But I’m fresh out of patience. “Say it, Norman,” I tell him.

He hesitates. Then he opens and closes his mouth, twice, like a fish. Finally, he takes a breath, then speaks. “They can’t kill us,” he said. “But that clearly doesn’t stop them from torturing us.” His words are slow and shaky.

“Yeah,” I say. “Seems it.” I cast another healing spell at my eye, and some of the blisters recede a bit. A little more skin covers the bone, though it’s not quite the right colour. Pink and raw. It hurts, and I keep [Suppression] active permanently, feeding it a trickle of mana just a little less than what I regenerate. The rest goes to healing, for now.

I keep myself over half mana. Just in case. 

“What now?” Amelie asks. “I believe we should find a place that is reasonably safe; where we will not be harmed by descenders from the higher floors.”

Slowly, I nod. “They were here for essence, I think.” Probably the pool. I take a breath. Getting up is hard, and my legs shake, but I manage to stand, bracing myself against a tree. “Let’s go clear a dungeon. Those can’t be interesting to them.”

Bay seems confused. “Why? Aren’t those landmarks?” 

“Yes,” I readily agree. “But they’re meant for lower levels. Essence has value, even if you’re at level one-hundred. But a dungeon like the Dreadburg? With a couple dozen pieces of shoddy armor?” I shake my head. “They won’t care, not really.”

Thatch nods. “Okay,” he says. “I wanna get out of here. Let’s go.”

And so we do.

- - -

Finding another dungeon isn’t too difficult. However, getting into it is an entirely different story.

“We were here first,” a wulven with greyish snarls at a human. 

The human woman, for her part, snarls back. “Fuck off with that. We scouted it out yesterday night and just now came back.”

My senses drift over them.

[Sleetstorm, lv. 12]

[Pugilist, lv. 12]

Same level. I tilt my head a little. “Sorry,” I say, not really feeling it, “we’d also like in on this dungeon.”

Both group leaders have their heads whirl to me. The wulven, classed as a sleetstorm, apparently, growls in amusement. “A scrawny, pathetic thing like you? Dream on. We’re not sharing a drop of experience with you.”

At that, the woman snorts in agreement. Then she turns to face me and sees my eye. “Yeah bitch, fuck o- holy shit. What the hell happened to your face?” she asks. She has the whole lumberjack vibe going on, button up shirt and thick leather gloves, tied back hair.

I smile. “Oh, not much trouble. I’m pretty good at taking hits, see,” I say, stepping forward. For some reason, I’m feeling a little bloodthirsty today. “Now,” I say, turning to the lady. “Do any of your group have a power bank? My phone’s battery is a little low.”

Her frown turns confused. “What are you on about?” She readies herself for combat, getting into a stance. 

[Select] snaps onto her. My smile widens. “You’re weaker than me,” I say. I have half my mana, my face is hurting like hell, my focus is split. But it doesn’t matter. I [Select] the wulven. “You, too.”

They frown. The wulven snarls. “How dare you…”

“Duel me,” I say. “I challenge you. On my win, I get the dungeon. Every enemy in it. On your win, you get it. Simple, right?” I tilt my head, giving a practiced, sympathetic smile. It looks like something from a horror show with the state my face is in.

“What about me?” the woman asks. 

I wave her off. “Sit with my group and watch,” I say.

“We have some food,” Sylves says, smiling happily. “This’ll be fun, trust me.”

Confused, the woman shakes her head. “What about the dungeon?” she asks.

“If I lose, fight the wulven. If I win, fight me or someone from my group. Simple, no?” I ask.

At that point, she shrugs. “Fine, I guess. Alright everyone, we’re sitting this one out. Grab a bite.”

Sylves opens up her backpack, full of granola and dried fruit and some canned stuff. They each grab a few bites. That devious little thing. I love it.

Ignoring her strategy, I focus on the wulven. “I’m telling you something,” I say. “Your class is sleetstorm.”

They flinch. I can’t tell if a wulven is a man or a woman yet, and I don’t bother asking. Surprise spreads across their features. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’m stronger than you,” I say calmly, stretching out my arm in front of me, holding the crappy goblin axe. 

At that, they snarl. “I’ll beat the notion out of you.”

“You’ll try,” I say, smiling. “And you’ll fail.”

When my comment lands, the anger finally gets to them. My heart speeds up, adrenaline courses through my veins. The wulven, just under seven feet of muscle, comes crashing at me, blazingly fast. The ground turns to ice around them. 

I [Select] them again, lazily stepping backward. They put their hands back for a swing. My will is faster, infinitely faster, and [Suppression] slams into them like a hammerblow. Their steps slow, and they stagger, just barely catching themselves from falling.

My axe slams towards their face without hesitation. The wulven instantly ducks backwards, sliding on the ice, so my hit just slams into their cheek, splitting fur and flesh and spraying blood. As they go down on their knees, I [Deconstruct] their ice skill.

Suddenly, they stop sliding. Friction increases, making their upper body topple forward. They catch themselves with their arms, and My axe slams into their back, brutally.

But the wulven has a tough hide. I don’t manage to break their spine, all I do is disable one shoulder, I think. Still, they yowl and start flailing in pain, as I simply step back, releasing my [Suppression].

I landed two hits, without even being touched. “Hm. You just used one skill. Surely you have more.”

At that, they roar, and an icicle comes shooting at me. I sidestep it, and it impacts a tree behind me, instantly spreading frost from where it struck. It has at least one more skill, I’m sure. Just what?

A needle of mana has long since begun solidifying in my off-hand, concealed in a tightly held fist. This shouldn’t take much longer.

Chapter 33: Tricksters

The wulven roars, and something happens. Unlike before, this one makes me stop in place. I feel fear coursing through my veins. That’s its third skill, then. 

Quickly, I [Suppress] the effect, stepping back as soon as I can to create more distance. The wulven roars again… and I keep my face calm. I stop in my tracks, frozen, but I’ve already [Deconstructed] the skill.

When they come at me, I’m ready. The alien snarls at me, ready to tear into me, and at the last moment, I [Suppress] it again. It stumbles, but adjusts, catching themself. But they don’t expect me to move.

Without hesitation, I jam my mana-needle into one of their eyes. My mana detonates, and disables their skills. Then my axe slams into their other shoulder, digging deep into their hide. It breaks off, and I pull out one of the knives I keep on me, stabbing it into the alien’s thigh, then kicking the wounded leg.

They buckle with a roar that should freeze me, but falls apart as it touches my ears. I press a foot onto their chest, pushing them over and leaving them on the ground, holding out a knife. They wince, but don’t fight back.

“I told you,” I say, calmly. “I’m stronger than you.” Blood rushes in my ears. My face hurts. But it’s okay. I’m okay.

Slowly, I step back, getting some distance. The other wulven are staring at me with a mix of fear and respect. I take a deep breath, and [Suppress] it all. The noise, my heartbeat, the pain, the fury. All of it mellows out.

A few moments pass with the sleetstorm simply laying on the floor. “Damn,” they say. “What happened to me?”

Opal grins. “You got crushed, buddy,” they supply. “Absolutely demolished.”

The lumberjack-looking woman turns to me. “That was… wild,” she says. “What did you do?”

I tilt my head. “I won.”

She frowns just a bit. “Fine,” she says. “Me next.”

“Actually!” Sylves interjects, floating towards her. “You already lost.”

The woman furrows her brows. “What?”

Sylves’ smile turns sinister. “Fighting one’s host is quite disrespectful, don’t you think?” she asks. “You eat our food, mortal. Uninvited.”

“You literally handed it to us!” another group member protests.

Heartlessly, Sylves shrugs. “No matter. I didn’t ask if you wanted to eat it. I simply said we had food, placed it near you, and then you stole it. Now, wanna put to a test whether I can enforce this?”

The man flinches back a bit at the intensity of her words. I know she’s deadly serious, too. “You can’t do this!”

And then, Sylves activates her skill. She’s a fairy now, after all, and one should never eat fae food, right? Because it’s a breach of hospitality. And people who break hospitality… well, they get broken in turn. I watch, as the man’s stomach twists. He curls in on himself in pain, then starts throwing up. 

“Don’t kill him,” I tell Syvles.

She smiles, sweetly. “Don’t worry, I can’t. All I can do is make their stomachs twist a little. But it’s cheap, and if I do it for all of them… well. Hardly a fight, don’t you think?”

“Ice cold,” Thatch says. “Nice.”

One of them still stands up and charges at us, but Inu moved into his path. He crashes against the young woman - then bounces right back where he came from. Where he promptly twists in on himself, curling up in pain from Sylves’ skill.

“We’ll be taking the dungeon now,” Inu says. 

The news slowly sinks in. 

“Please try to stop us,” Opal says. “I’m itching to try out my class in a proper fight.”

Finally, this seems to stop them. “Fine,” the lumberjack woman says with a grimace. “Fine, take it. It’s all yours.”

“You won the duel,” the wulven says through winces of pain. “It is yours to take.”

They do not need to say it twice. Without any more trouble, we head inside.

- - -

[Dungeon: Clockwork Grove. Level: 18]

It’s just a little higher than the dreadburg, and we have five people with classes now. By the end of this, everyone should be over level ten. 

Unlike the Dreadburg, though, the atmosphere is entirely different. There’s no miasma, no darkness or fear, just a gentle ambient ticking noise. Tick, tack, tick, tack. The air sounds of moving gears, and occasionally, there is a hiss of steam.

The grove is, as it promised, made from clockwork. Not entirely, but enough of it is. The floor has little panels of glass in the grass, letting me look down into layers of moving gears, pipes and vents. It’s very coppery, though little of it has oxidized. There is a hedge maze inside, and as we look at it, one of the walls pulls aside, revealing an opening.

Bay runs a finger along the walls. The plants seem thorny, but she somehow manages to avoid them all. “Whoa,” she says. “That’s awesome.” 

I feel mana ripple out from her fingers, creating a short pulse. The wall fizzles, then spins, smacking into her and sending her tumbling onto her butt. And she laughs. “Hahahaha!” for the first time, she looks genuinely happy. “That’s so awesome!”

Oh. She’s a tech nerd. The kind that loves tinkering with stuff. “Do you wanna take the maze apart?” I ask, politely.

“Huh?” her eyes widen. “Oh, no, I don’t think that’s feasible haha. I don’t have any tools or anything. I’d love to know how those parts work, though.”

Now I’m curious. I look at my phone. “Your skill, [Pulse], creates electricity, right?” I ask.

Confused, Bay nods. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s not really correct to say that, but in a way, yeah. Why?”

Slowly, I nod. “My phone is almost out of battery.”

“Right,” she says, hesitating. “And?”

I blink. What’s not clear? 

Thatch gives a soft sigh. “Snow wants you to charge the phone. Maybe even teach how to do it. In exchange, I think Snow’d be willing to take down parts of the maze, maybe scrap them for parts.”

Bay’s eyes widen even more. “You can do that?!”

I nod.

“Yeah, absolutely! I can figure out how to charge your phone, sure, yeah. Uh. Maybe I can even make you a better battery with some of the maze scrap. Dunno how it works yet, y’know?”

I nod, again. “Deal.” And then, I take the mana in my vessel, pour it into [Deconstruction], and slam it into the maze’s wall. It’s clumsy, working poorly, and I let the skill do a lot of the heavy lifting, but I have a lot of mana for my level, so it does a decent bit of damage. Some of the thorny vines unravel and open up to reveal mechanical insides. Bolts and nuts and screws pop off.

With a horrible screeching noise, the mechanism to spin the wall comes undone, and the whole thing falls over, breaking at its seams. I smile, just a little, at Bay’s wide eyes as things unmake themselves.

And then, like a rabid hound, she descends on the once-wall. “It’s a treasure trove!” she yelps, picking things apart. She pulls out wires, metal pieces, connectors, pistons, cogs and gears, looking ecstatic. 

Yeah. A tech nerd, for sure. 

A moment passes and she tosses a glowing crystal behind her. This one actually catches my eye. I slowly pick it up from the ground.

My mana is at about an eighth of my total, but [Selecting] the piece of crystal doesn’t take a whole lot of effort. “Huh,” I say, sitting down.

“What now?” Opal asks. “I wanna start killing monsters.”

I wave them off, not even looking over. The crystal is charged with mana. It’s been prepped and stored by someone. And, unlike when I solidify mine, it’s not dissipating - or, well, it is. Just very, very slowly. 

While Bay still laughs and rips into the mechanical components, I slowly trace my finger across the crystal. It’s crude, but there is something on there. Inscriptions? Runes? I can barely see them.

“Thatch,” I say. “Come take a look.”

“Hm?” he hums, then steps to my side, looking at what I’m holding. “What?”

“Look.”

“Huh?”

“Look,” I repeat, tracing the tiny lines with my finger. His eyes begin to glow, then widen, then bleed a little. 

And still, he doesn’t look away. “Holy hell,” he says. “Enchantments.”

Chapter 281: Peak of Slaughter

Chapter 281: Peak of Slaughter

“This is the peak of Slaughter,” Chung Nam-Cheong said.

Mercury looked at the mountain - and it was a mountain. A tall, thin spire of jagged, dark rocks, with houses built into it, and sharp spikes of stone poking from it. Some of the spikes were adorned with bodies, arranged to look almost beautiful, like leaves on stony trees.

“That’s a lot of bodies,” Mira noted with disgust.

“It’s the peak of Slaughter,” Chung replied with an uncaring shrug. “Death is everywhere. This only teaches you to look.”

Elder Guleum, with her shortened hair, gave the mountain an almost fond smile. It was calm and graceful, like a circular ripple across a pond. “Yes,” she said. “Everything dies. From the smallest ant to the greatest dragon. The mountain is a reminder - we are not infallible. We must cut down or be cut down. We are part of the martial world, and part of that is slaughter.”

A small shiver ran through Mira. Mercury watched her grit her teeth and clench her fists. He looked at the bodies again, and hummed softly. It was… kind of disgusting, but appropriate. This world was rotten, in some ways. It was full of violence and war.

The cults felt a little like the fae. When the veneer of flowers and beauty was stripped from the court of Blossom, all that was left was festering rot, and crawling insects. The world was dying, and looking away from that death didn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Yet, a monument to it seemed a bit much, even for Mercury’s standards. He hummed again, looking at the spikes of black stone, corpses stacked high in between humble huts. He watched as a young woman walked out from one of the houses, and began hopping over the mountain, her feet landing carefully on the stone.

“To look away is a sin,” Mercury said softly. “But to be forced to confront is a cruel fate, too. There must be rest between the horrors.”

“Rest?” grand elder Yozai of the peak of Frozen Blood asked, shaking his head. There was a wry smile on his aged face. “There is no rest in the martial world. Sleep and die.”

Mercury shook his head. “Everyone rests. The righteous do it, and that’s when you cults strike. It’s funny, in a way. The righteous hide when they hurt people, they’re terrified that truth will get out - that there is strife, that there is cruelty. And then, there are you.

“Cults. Ones all about war, slaughter, cruelty. And you’re scared, too,” he said, eyes glinting. “You’re scared people will figure out that you rest. When you sleep - when they may stab you in the back. What a sad state of affairs.”

Silence hung in the air as Mercury took his first step up the mountain - though that’s a lie. Chung saw that his foot never touched the ground. It landed on an invisible stair, a technique so profound he could not even feel a breath of Qi  or sorcery from it. For a few heartbeats, the disciple simply stared, then rushed to follow, same as Joo Mira. 

When Mercury reached one of the brutally splayed out bodies - that of an older woman wearing righteous colours, with an arm brutally torn off at the shoulders, and her face cleft open by claw marks, he sighed softly, then reached out with a hand. He didn’t flinch or cower, but instead simply closed her eyes.

The motion was soft and small, and it was still a grisly picture. Her limp, ruined body, splayed out over the rocky mountain, cruel stone piercing through her back and belly. But it at least made her a little more dignified. Mira looked and felt fear at the corpse, Chung looked and he felt resentment at the world.

And they were both wrong.

“The world is a terrible place,” Zyl whispered with a smile. “But it need not be feared. It need not be hated. Find your own slice of it, your own freedom, and seek happiness there.”

“I will never be satisfied without my vengeance,” Chung snarled. 

“Vengeance has never brought anyone happiness,” Mercury shrugged. “I am not above it. I’ve killed in retaliation. I’ve wiped out an entire world for what it did to met… though it was a minor world.”

His audience didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Old monsters were known to be eccentric, but that was a bit much.

When he refused to elaborate, and simply walked higher up on the peak of Slaughter, Chung was the first to pose a question. “Were you… satisfied?”

Mercury smiled and shook his head. “Yes,” he said sadly. “But I was also empty. Bereft of purpose. Happy, but only because I had something to return to. So, build that,” he said, looking at the disciple. “Build somewhere you want to be.”

Mira swallowed hard at those words, and her nails squeezed into her fingers again. She was faced with the question, too. Was the Joo clan where she wanted to live? Was it somewhere she wanted to return to?

Maybe, in this mad world, it was safe there. To some degree, at least. It was a place where the cults wouldn’t break the door open at night and stab her in the back over a stolen carrot. But, at the same time, she may be sent to a war. Over an artificial, pointless gripe, just to get more resources.

Was that worth dying for? Resources? For a thankless clan with no scruples? That would throw you to the wolves in hopes of getting a few pelts? 

Kill other people?

She breathed, then looked at the corpse. Chung closed his eyes and snarled. Fear and anger. People got wronged by the world, but that did not need to carry on. Mercury smiled quietly. ‘Doesn’t every person have a duty to make the world a better place, just a little?’ he thought.

There was no way to not have a negative impact. To live was to hurt - plants, animals, people, monsters. It was to break hearts, sometimes, it was to be hurt, too, but it was also to be kind. To try. In a way, living meant trying one’s best to do right by the world.

[<Truth> has levelled up! <Truth lv. 6 -> 7>]

Mercury took another step up the mountain, when a kid, barely older than thirteen, slipped and fell. It was a simple slip-up. They picked the wrong rock, and it slid out under their feet, crumbling away. Chung watched as the kid plummeted downwards, towards one of the rock spires.

“Failure is death,” elder Guleum whispered, her hair swaying in the breeze, her eyes closed in peaceful acceptance.

Zyl flew upwards and caught the kid, like any sane person should.

For a moment, Mercury saw grand elder Yozai sigh. With an almost pained expression, the old man dragged a nail across his chest, let blood well up from the wound, and coalesced it into a blue-red sword over his fingers. He looked at the kid mournfully as his body lifted into the air, robes fluttering behind him.

A heartbeat passed, and Zyl, carrying the shocked, wide-eyed kid, watched the elder approach. “There is a price for failure,” Yozai said. “You cannot interfere in the cult this way. It is the peak of Slaughter, not that of coddling children.” His voice was stern but weak.

Zyl moved slowly. Ever so gently, he tilted his head to the side, looking at the older man. His greying hair, his balding head. Zyl simply sighed. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“Yes,” Yozai replied.

Then, politely, Zyl nodded. “Okay,” he said. His wings beat once, and he landed on a reasonably stable part of the jagged mountain peak. He placed the kid down on their feet. Yozai nodded, and floated forward.

The blood-blade flashed, and Yozai’s detached arm flew through the air. The stench of ash hit Mercury’s nostrils. Fire roared in Zyl’s eyes, and plasma hummed in the air like a pack of angry dogs. The grand elder stared at the wound, his mouth slowly coming open in shock. “Ah-” he said.

Before he even screamed, Mercury was next to him and removed a chunk of the pain.

It hurt about as badly as a stubbed toe, because agony was not the punishment. Instead, Mercury sealed the wound. “You have failed, grand elder Yozai,” the mopaaw explained calmly. “You have failed to recognize your betters, and the punishment for failure is death.”

New flesh sprouted from the stump. The old man was pitiful, but possessed powerful vitality. His body was already on the mend. But once his hand returned, only four fingers grew back. And by the end, he was a panting, ragged mess.

“I-” the elder stammered, unable to form words. Guleum stared, wide-eyed, at what happened. Chung’s mouth hung open in shock, and Mira watched with fear. Mercury just stood.

His face was expressionless, but he felt anger. The same as Zyl. The kid was still trying to kill the dragon, but not making much headway. Their pitiful shiv didn’t even break his scales.

“You will be quiet,” Mercury hissed. He held the elder’s hand up to his face. “This has cost you a finger. I will make it so you can never regrow it. So you are a four-fingered creature for the rest of your life. No treasure will heal it, because there is no wound, because it is the proper way for you to be. You wanted to take a life, and so I take from you, instead.”

In the martial world, this action was akin to a slap on the wrist - but it spat in the elder’s face. Yet, what was he going to do about the dishonour? Fight them over it? Threaten and scream.

No. 

Grand elder Yozai of the peak of Frozen Blood swallowed his pride. He cupped his fist, bowed his bald head, and leaned forward. “Yes, esteemed masters,” he said quietly, his breathing ragged with exhaustion from the regeneration. “I apologize for my failures.”

Despite everything, he was sorry for the consequences, not for the intention of killing a teenager.

And Mercury thought that was profoundly sad.

- - -

How would you change the world, when the world is rotten?

Is blood and violence the answer?

Do you choose diplomacy? 

Carve out a little place of safety for yourself?

What is the responsibility of those that have power?

Mercury could make his own slice of safety. He’d [Carved] away the elder’s finger, removing it permanently. No healing would bring it back. He could easily, easily hide away somewhere forever. Let the world fester and rot and shelter those he found worthy of sheltering - a little like the Guardian’s nation of Unbahr. 

The city Zyl had built was, largely, peaceful. Yes, they had crime. Petty theft, for example. But there wasn’t… this.

Placing another foot on the rocky slopes of the peak of Slaughter, Mercury grimaced. Some of the stone was slick with fresh blood - thought most of it was dried. Dark, black-red flakes that lifted off the mountain when he took more steps. So much death, he thought. So very much death in one place.

Was it truly fair of him to only carve out a small slice? Should he have to do better? Where, exactly, laid the bounds of his responsibility?

Everyone could make the world a better place - in smaller and bigger ways. He had the capability to make a pretty big difference… and honestly? He had the desire as well. The child who’d slipped had been terrified, frothing at the mouth, trying to murder Zyl for the crime of saving them. 

It was just sad to see. Grand elder Yozai didn’t speak of the issue anymore, but his eyes were sad. And Mercury knew the truth.

There was no saving the kid. They’d be torn apart by the other little cultist apprentices on the slopes, because they were meant to be dead already. That was tragic, too, and there was something they could do, which was move the kid. Place them under protection. And so on and so forth.

Of course, they did. The kid was transferred to the peak of frozen blood, and elder Yozai promised to do right by them. But it was a stopgap measure, it wouldn’t solve any of the problems that clearly plagued the cults.

The righteous sects were willing to kill outsiders to fuel their petty wars for resources. The cults willingly threw kids into a crucible to turn them into brutal killers. Everyone who participated in something like this was a horrid person, no two ways about it. And yet, Mercury could not run.

So, he returned to the question: What should he do about it?

And Mercury decided on a very simple answer. He’d tackle each problem he encountered, big and small, one by one. Not because he was perfect or an altruist, but because he could make the world a little better, and he wanted to. It just annoyed him to see people suffer if he could help it, especially people who don’t really have much of an own hand in their suffering.

Pallisade-girl, for example, was eight years old, he’d learnt. She was the only survivor of a man who had his family exterminated for seven generations. The very last. Orphans at the young age of four. She’d stolen food to survive, and joined the cults at six, being part of the peak of Broken Swords.

Mostly focused on disarming their opponents, she was already well versed in weapon-breaking techniques and grappling. Of course, the grapples they learnt were all intended to hurt - and it was common to break an arm or dislocate joints during even supervised sparring. 

The eight-year-old had proudly bragged about only having her legs broken twice.

Thinking about it again, Mercury shook his head and took another step up the mountain. The rocky ground was growing steeper, but he still held his footing. <Itinerant> was meant to create a path for him, after all. Take him wherever he wanted to go. And he wanted to go up the dang mountain.

And so, he walked, standing upright on an almost vertical surface, and taking step after step up the slope under the watchful eyes of fewer and fewer disciples. The air grew thin, and it was harder to retain footing this high up, so only the most advanced disciples of the peak would climb this high. Teenagers near the end of their training - around eighteen years old.

Some of them tried to approach Mercury. One even made it close - a young girl with flowing, blue hair. She tried to kill him, too. Which was, apparently, roughly what a greeting looked like on the peak of Slaughter.

Mercury formed a sword from assimilated ice, and wrapped it in weapon intent. Then, when her knife slashed against his, the stone cleanly came apart, and Mercury caught the wayward piece of the blade with his other hand. “Your intent needs work,” he directed.

It was a silly bit of advice, since intent usually only developed once people were past the stages of disciples, but the girl did immediately sit down and meditate on it, so what did he know? The elders following him also seemed pleased.

So he ignored it, and climbed some more.

- - -

The Peak of Slaughter was a small thing. It was a desolate collection of a few houses. There was a manor, yes, but it was broken down. Little more than a rotten shack. Mercury did not go there, though.

Instead, his path led to a smaller house on the side. Called an “admission office.”

Calling the people on the path up the mountains “disciples” was a rather generous term for them. It was more correct to call them cultist aspirants. They weren’t even properly admitted into the cult yet. 

No, to be admitted, and become a member of the cult, climbing to a peak and speaking to a deacon was necessary. And so, that’s what Mercury did. He walked into one of the abandoned looking shacks, with a half-rotted roof and broken floorboards, and walked up to a rotten counter.

Behind it lounged a middle-aged man with a long piece of grass in his mouth, his legs up on the rotting counter, clad in tall leather boots. He had a scruffy beard, and glanced at Mercury from the corner of his eyes with a good bit of disdain.

“The feck’re you?” he asked with a nasally, annoyed voice.

Mercury smiled calmly. “Good evening, deacon,” he said. “I’ve come to join the Cult of Infernal Flames.”

At that, the man raised an eyebrow. He looked Mercury up n down, shaking his head. “White robes, face without a speck of grime, and fucking polite too? You ain’t no cultist, man. If you’re a spy, you’re doing a right shit job at it. Piss of back to where you came from,” the deacon said, nodding at the door. 

“I do not believe he should,” a muscular man said from beside Mercury. He had a thick mane of spiky hair, spilling down to the middle of his back, and scars covered his shirtless body - including the kind usually associated with top surgery. A thick beard spread on his wild face, which was pulled apart in a grin - giving him an appearance of someone more beast than man. 

“Peak Master!” the deacon said, blood leaving his face as he took his shoes off the table and bowed deeply. “My sincere apologies,” the man said, voice quivering. 

“Fakakakaka!” the beastly man laughed. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured the deacon with a slap on the back. A slap that was so powerful it sent the middle aged man rocketing teeth first through the wooden counter, smashing the wood into splinters as the deacon slammed into the floor. The master of the peak of Slaughter just grinned. “Whoops,” he said, then turned to Mercury.

“You,” he said, eyes glinting. “You’re a beast.”

“I’m not,” Mercury said calmly.

“You are.”

Slowly, the mopaaw tilted his head. “I may have the body of the beast,” he said slowly, “but you have the mind of one. We are not the same.”

His grin widening, the peak master looked almost feral. “The body of a beast,” he said, licking his lips. Already, his legs shifted, his fists clenched, and he got into a stance for combat. “Show me.”

And then he punched.

And then, his punch landed, in the palm of a dragon.

Zyl stood in front of the peak master, and the entire house around them was torn to splinters in a single moment of violence. “Do not touch him,” the dragon said calmly, frostily.

The peak master’s eyes glinted. “Another beast,” he whispered. “Fakakaka. Today must be my lucky day…”

Magic Breaker Ch 28-30

Chapter 28: Proof of Strength

Instantly, all hell breaks loose. Norman sprints at Thatch to pull him back, as the young man slams his fist into the mayor one more time.

The guard is less merciful. He leverages the gun at my friend, and pulls the trigger. It clicks. Nothing happens. It doesn’t fire, can’t fire.

I draw my goblin axe and stab it through the policeman’s hand. He screams. The mayor yells at Thatch to step back, but I [Suppress] him, too. Inu uses her [Empathy] to project the effect onto her dad, and he staggers aside. Bay rushes to grapple Thatch, but Amelie’s threads wrap around her, pulling her back. Jess stands there, her body trying to move but her feet frozen to the floor by her own skill.

Inu holds her own dad aside with will and by physically putting herself in between. She’s wearing the armor again, pushing him back. She can, because she's a higher level, because she’s stronger, and he doesn’t know that. But he’s angry, and punches her, landing a hit on her cheek. She takes it without complaint, but I can see her eyes growing wet.

The mayor screams at Thatch, but it doesn’t matter. My friend [Rages]. 

Of course, I sabotage the mayor. Of course, I pull his skills apart. As Thatch pummels him, I stab the needle into the guard, dispelling the effect of the mayor’s skill on him, for now. It means I don’t have any solidified mana to use on the mayor, but I don’t think I need it.

All I do is pull apart the mayor’s skills. I know how they work, just enough that when [Suppression] weakens them, I can use that info to [Deconstruct] them. 

[Suppression 7 > 8] 

One after another, the commands rain in on Thatch, but fall apart. The mayor has more than two skills, because of his class. One to manipulate, one to make trades, and a third to inherit a part of the power of the people in his safe zone.

But he’s not angry. He’s afraid. One after another, I dismantle the commands. He tries to bargain, but it falls on deaf ears. He borrows more power, more health, more lifeforce, and yet, Thatch’s fist falls relentlessly.

Punch by punch, the mayor’s face turns bloody. His flailing limbs grow limp. His teeth are knocked in. Blood pools on the wooden floor.

And then, Thatch gets up, looks at me, and the anger is gone. He tilts his head, smiling awkwardly. “Sorry, Snow,” he says. “I got my clothes bloody again.”

Slowly, Norman stops struggling against Inu. He looks down at the mayor on the ground. “What?” he asks. “What did I… what just…”

There’s a red welt on Inu’s face where he smacked her. But instead of me, it’s Jess who acts on it. The ice on her feet breaks, and her head whirls around on Norman. She takes two quick steps, grabbing his collar.

“You fucking moron!” she screams in his face. “You absolute fucking idiot! How ridiculous can you be?! Dragging us in here was fine. I can forgive that. I can forgive getting manipulated. But no matter what, no matter what, how dare you. How dare you. Lay a hand on our daughter? Norman! Get yourself together!!” 

He flinches back, confused. Still slow. I solidify a tiny bit of mana, exploding it in his mouth to dispel the last vestige of the mayor’s influence. His eyes widen. “I- I’m-”

“I don’t care, Norman!” Jess screams. She’s pushing him up against a wall now. “Fucking think. For five seconds in your life, try not to offload that job. You wanna be a leader only to throw yourself into servitude again. You absolute asskisser. I don’t give a shit if it worked in your day job. I don’t fucking care if it’s all you know.”

No one moves to stop her. “This is how it is every. Single. Fucking. Time.” She shakes him with every word. “People in power. People like that. They look at people like you and see a friend. They look at people like me, and you know what they see, Norman? Meat. That’s all I am.”

“Over and over I’ve told you,” she says. Tears in her eyes, just short of sobbing. “And you didn’t listen. Not to me. Not to Snow. Not to Inu or any of the others. Because you’re blind. So I’m going to tell you this just once: You need to change. Your perspective, who you trust. You need to stop being a coward and do your fucking job as a father.”

With that she throws him aside, then turns to the bloodied boy. “You, Thatch.” She takes a long, deep breath. “Thank you. He deserved it. Snow,” she says, turning to me. “Thank you, too. For caring. I know you’re curious. I used [Dissect] on myself. As an analysis skill. It let me figure out something was weird, and that was enough.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, she goes and hugs Inu tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she says, crying. “For failing you.”

Inu tries to speak, but the words choke in her mouth.

“For being quiet. For failing you. I’m a sorry excuse of a mom. This has been… so much, but it’s been no easier on you.” She snorts a sob, halfway to a laugh. “You’ve been getting hurt. And me? Me? I’ve been watching. Just walking along. Doing nothing. I’ve failed you.”

Norman tries to say something. To scramble up from the floor, but I place Thatch’s hand on his mouth. He doesn’t get to talk right now. Just watch.

The guard also tries to interrupt, but a swift application of Amelie’s threads sees him dragged out of the room and the door closes. Just us and the corpse. And a mother and her daughter sobbing in each others’ arms. It’s sad. But she was trying to do better.

Either Norman learnt to do better, or he’d only get to spectate. An [Unassuming] presence in his daughter’s life. His damned choice.

I take a deep breath. Bay moves to hug Thatch, too. The moment lives on for a couple more seconds, a minute or two, and then it’s over.

Inu wriggles out of her mom’s hug. “It’s okay,” she says. “Thank you for apologizing.”

Jess snorts out a laugh, face covered in tears. “I owed it to you.”

“Yeah,” Inu says, shamelessly. “Yeah, you did.”

- - -

When we walk out of the building, the safe zone is in disarray. People are, unsurprisingly, less harmonious now, and less than thrilled at having been manipulated. Not that it mattered.

“Yo,” Opal greets us outside, sword draped over their shoulder. Dar and Richard are with them, as well as Sylves. “Got it all sorted?” they ask.

I nod. “Yeah. Dealt with.”

“Cool,” Opal says, letting the silence hang for a second. 

Then, Sylves chimes in. “Soooo! We’ve seen what integration meant, right? Anyone wanna figure out what essence is all about?” she chirps, floating in the air.

Inu snickers, then sniffles a little bit. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

This time, no one tries to stop us from leaving the safe zone.

Chapter 29: Normalcy and Magic

We spend the rest of the day kind of just… hiking around. 

There are more places to explore, but the world itself has largely lost its thrill. Sure, there are goblins. Even hobgoblins, but there is some amount of safety in numbers, and with everyone working together, we bring down the overly aggressive creatures. 

Norman stays quiet, mostly focussing on the ground. Because of [Unassuming] he’s easy to ignore, but he hasn’t run off into the middle of nowhere. So that’s a win. Maybe. Probably.

I feed my shadow a little bit more, using the wound to practice my healing spell. This time, I mess up my focus, and my little shadow-friend gets a suddenly much larger meal as the skin all over my hand cracks open. I don’t mess it up a second time, slowly knitting my flesh back together.

Another dungeon gets cleared, too. It’s lower level than the Dreadburg, this one being recommended for level eight. Inu gets the final hit on the boss. She gets a class, too, alongside Opal. Thatch got his when the mayor died. 

Sylves, for her part, spends much of our walking time stitching, and by the end of the day, picks up a job. “Oh!” she gasps. “I’m a tailor!”

“What?” Amelie asks, justifiably.

“The system has accepted my skill in sewing. I got a job! How wonderful!” she smiles.

Opal blinks at her. “Would you… mind explaining what that means?” they ask.

“Why, yes, I don’t mind,” Sylves grins. “I get to make clothing. Enhance it with skills. It adds an experience module for sewing, as well. But they aren’t coupled. A job may feed your supremacy, but your supremacy may never feed your job. Oh! They also enhance stats differently! Rather than going for pure volume, their points feed into control!”

At that, I raise my eyebrows. “Stats have different expressions,” I say.

Sylves nods energetically. “Bingo! With free points, you can push them some ways. Defense, offense, regeneration, volume, those kinds of things. Jobs generally prefer control. Letting you do something the best way, rather than letting you do as much of it as possible - though it depends on the job!”

Amelie nods. “Anything else we should be aware of?” she asks.

“Right, yes,” Sylves agrees. “Essence. It’s baked into jobs, a little more than classes. See, jobs are generally a little less specific! So, they have little knowledge packets included in them. Milestones. Every five levels, you get some general knowledge about your trade.” 

That explains what essence does, then. It’s… knowledge. The essence of a craft, of a skill. “It sounds a little like it might raise your talent at something,” I note.

“Kind of,” Sylves hums happily. “That does work, yes. It’s a bit of that, a bit of perspective, and a bit of like having a teacher explain something. And a bit of intuition, too!” she smiles. “You’ll figure it out!”

I smile, just a little. With that, my friends and I are kitted out. Four classes and a job, for now. I’m sure Sylves will get a class soon. And maybe I’ll get a job next, if I push my supremacy high enough. Maybe.

What would I want to do, though? I wonder, I wonder.

Opal grins. “Well, then. I volunteer to get a cooking job!” 

Amelie grimaces. “Absolutely not. I refuse. Rather would I starve than consume your vile creations.”

Inu laughs, for the first time today. Sylves and Thatch easily join in, and Opal eventually does, too. 

What precious critters my friends are, I think with a smile.

- - -

Eventually, we find a spot to spend the night. It’s a pond, from the Hiy’ht’s homeworld. Clear, large, and with an ethereal sheen to it. There isn’t much travelling to do, and right now, we lack a clear objective, too. But I have this feeling that things may get worse. And soon, too.

So, I spend my time practicing. Split between my skills, my botched healing spell, feeding and learning more from the shadow skills that I remember my dark friend using, and solidifying more mana… I’ve got plenty to do. 

Opal is swinging their sword in drills, manifesting a slight purple aura about it, practicing their class. Inu, too, is testing out a new skill, smacking her arm and watching her hand bounce away. Thatch, for his part, is doing breathing exercises, and I feel something coursing through his body. Sylves is magically stitching clothing together.

Everyone is keeping busy with something, be that practice, thinking, or moping, in Norman’s case. The sun slowly sets. People start drifting to sleep. The moon rises, and I see the water start glowing, just a little.

Curious. I look at Richard, but she’s already asleep, leaning against a tree. I look at Dar, and the large wulven is sprawled across Opal’s lap, who doesn’t seem to particularly mind at all. Sylves, though, is awake, and a lot less hesitant than me.

“What’s this now?” she asks, curiously floating up to the lake and eyeing it.

“Don’t eat that,” I say, half teasing and half serious. 

She looks at me. I see her floating over the lake, twirling in the air, and her dress spins, the edges of the leaves catching a bit of water. They spray it into the air, and the droplets sparkle in the moonlight.

“This is so magical,” she says, smiling brightly, looking at me with a glint in her eyes. “I’m gonna be a fairy, Snow.”

There is a somewhat sinking feeling in my stomach. I know Sylves. She cannot help herself with this. As soon as she decrees it “magical”, I know she’ll throw herself into the lake. Head-first, too.

Without hesitation, I step up. The moonlight reflects from the pond, but it glows brighter than that as the night deepens. Sylves gives me a smile. She drops her flight at the same time as I jump from the edge.

We both dive into the magical lake.

Chapter 30: Essence

The water feels smooth against my skin. It drenches my clothes and my hair, of course, but it feels soft. Almost silky. I open my eyes underwater, and the brightness is almost blinding. 

Moonlight spirals and twists in on itself. Ribbons of effervescent brightness twirl and spin and weave through one another. The radiance is bright enough to sear my eyes… and still, I don’t look away. It’s almost like mana, almost like the structures of skills, and I want to take it apart…

But I don’t. Because I look down and realize I am not falling. I am standing. On the surface of the lake, just submerged. My feet touch the top, but I cannot go above ground. I hold my breath, making sure to be patient, and see Sylves next to me. 

Grinning like an idiot as she swims through the water. My skin begins to tingle, and the light brightens some more, until the ribbons grow so wide it’s like a single plain of white moonlight.

Whispers of moonlight ripple through the water.

This is magic, alright. I can feel wispy tendrils of knowledge, no, of essence murmuring at me. Grasping at the edges of my mind, of my being, and it feels… strange. Like an open invitation. I slowly, tentatively accept.

Sylves, on the other hand, did so instantly. Already, the moonlight is pouring into her. I catch bits of it, too, but mine is different. I don’t wanna steal from here, so I pick at the outskirts of it. 

[Level Up! 12 > 13]

The world accepts my wish, my will supplanting that of the essence. The water bends and accepts that I am supreme, that I am deserving, and I take my piece. Essence floods into me, now, but not the same as what Sylves claimed. She claimed magic, and power, and all that is fae like.

What remains for me? Moonlight and sorcery. I feel it, at my fingertips. It’s not free, not an instant advancement, but I can feel the whispers of something, someone out there. That there is a purpose to this, to the light. That there are bits of it I can understand more.

I take that essence, sneakily. Stealthily. Like a thief. Sylves is probably going to gain a class from this. Me? I don’t even plan on getting a job. I can feel the system push me in that direction, but I push back. There will be no automatically assigning me a job. None of that.

When I get it, I’ll take my choice. The knowledge about ribbons of light fills my mind until I’m full, and then some. My eyes bleed a little, tainting the water, but I still steal more, making sure to memorize it all. Maybe I’ll need to create a knowledge storing bank or something, someday. 

The essence pours into Sylves and she laughs, bubbles of air escaping her mouth and drifting to the surface. My nose starts bleeding. Then my mouth. And then, when the pressure against my ears becomes unbearable, when my head is pounding - it stops.

It stops, all at once.

Sylves passes out, and instantly, I grab her, pushing her head above water.

The pond is just a pond again, and I walk along its shallow, muddy bottom, making sure my friend is solidly breathing. Then, I step out of the water, carrying her. For once, I wish I had a little more power. I snicker quietly at the thought, then place her down, breathing peacefully. The water didn’t hurt her, somehow.

My mana brushes against her. 

[Fairy lv. 10]

She’s not fully human. I take note of that, placing it aside, and then try the same thing on Opal. No response. None from Thatch or Inu. That’s fine, though. I try again, changing the way I test their auras. Slowly, bit by bit, poke by poke, I learn. While they sleep, I try out just what makes that screen pop up.

And, eventually, when I poke in just the right way, when I try to feel their mana, there is that notification. I smile.

[Echo Knight, lv. 12] 

That’s Opal. 

[Unshaken, lv. 11]

Inu.

[Channeler, lv. 13] 

And Thatch.

With that done, I lean against the side of a building that pops into the clearing. It’s funny, the way the soft grass jaggedly transitions into concrete and steel, but I don’t mind. I sort through the knowledge in my mind, and it feels… easy.

Essence is made to be absorbed, after all. I just took in a lot of it. So did Sylves, and she fell unconscious, probably still processing the details of her new class. I could have picked up a job. But no.

This was her treasure. She needed my help in it, because she’s an idiot who would have gotten her brain fried and drowned, but I don’t want it. The affinity is cool. I enjoy the intuition it gives me. It feels like the moonlight is familiar, like I could wrap it around myself in a cloak if I wanted to, but at the same time?

It’s not earned.

Now, that doesn’t mean a lot. People deserve a lot of things without decidedly working for them. Everyone deserves to eat. Everyone deserves shelter and recreation and to live a decent life. 

But I don’t care about that.

The world is full of magic. I want it. I want the parts that belong to me. I want to choose. Not just stumble across a pond and have it decide for me.

No. This moonlight isn’t good enough. Plain and simple. The job would be strong, I’m sure of that, but it would have been picked for me, and that’s unacceptable. I will rise to the top of the system. I will strike down the Eyes. And I will do it by my own power.

Essence? I’ll take it. I’ll memorize it, learn its secrets, and take it apart until all its constituent pieces are mine. I won’t just take it and accept what it wants.

Sylves is the same. Her class is fairy. Not “moonlight fae” or “translucent dancer”. Fairy. She did the same thing, twisting the essence to suit her. I’m doing that, too, just in my own way. I smile a tiny bit at that. Is this what it means to be human? Ah, Sylves is a fairy, now. Perhaps it should be ‘is this what it means to be a person?’

So, the essence gets to sit in my mind. Grant me knowledge, and intuition and slowly be digested and picked apart. Because my rise won’t be from a lucky windfall, it’ll be because of me. Because I want to, and no one else gets to take even a shred of credit away from that.

Not my circumstances, not my birth, not the people who “raised” me. My friends? Maybe they deserve part of the credit, because I choose to be around them, and that’s fine. But no one, nothing that is random or lucky is part of my rise.

I build a box around the essence. A wall of mana that contains it from influencing my actions. And then, I send a tendril of [Deconstruction] into that box. I pick it apart, I unravel the patterns. And then I do it again. And again. And again.

Over and over, until there’s nothing left for me to learn.