Chapter 133: Backup
PoV: Orri, the Soothsayer - Snare
The earth rises in front of me, and then, there is a torrent of mana.
I blink as I feel it, the jaws of the trap snapping shut. Ezekiel grimaces at it, almost reaching out to help - but I grab his wrist. The games are over. I’d been dragging this out to get paid more, but this is enough. “They’re dead,” I tell him. “Run.”
“No,” he snarls. “I am the hunter, Orri. You are being paid for this. Do not go against my bright lady. I will earn my freedom back.”
And that’s when I notice that he has the eyes of a manic man. Of a beast in a cage. Respitia put him in one, because he was too wild, and now he’s doing it again. I flinch back from him, raising my magic, snatching my arm free and rubbing my wrist. “No,” I state firmly. “Even if it earns me Respitia’s ire, this is too much to ask.”
“Shut your mouth and do your job. They’re fucking rookies,” Ezekiel spits. The mana down there redoubles.
My mouth drops open. Fuck. Did that monster have an attunement loop already? Did it need one?! That amount of mana should have killed the fucker! How many points- I couldn’t imagine the strain that vessel must be under.
Again, I took a step back, and Ezekiel’s eyes hardened.
[Respitia the Pure demands that you-]
I ignore the rest of the message. That’s always the trouble with zealots. They’re reasonable until they’re not. I grit my teeth, and move to run, because I am not dealing with that shit - and then I crash into a rebounding metal wall.
My own force crashes back into me, sending me sprawling to the ground, and I look up to find a woman wearing steel armor. She had raven hair and dark skin, looking at me with kind, hazel eyes. “Sorry,” she says calmly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Stress pools at my back, making my skin itch. I shift my arms into blades, preparing to fight, but then think better of it. Looking at her face, knowing that I couldn’t have won if I tried, I raised my hands.
“I surrender,” I hummed simply. Feeling that mana at my back, the way that it leeched into and out of the earth, pulled at me like a hungry, waiting maw… it was very persuasive. “I surrender.”
The human looks at me with surprise plainly written on her face, then smiles. “That will make this a lot easier. Thank you.”
Next to me, Ezekiel is glaring for just a moment, then he moves. He discards me, but Respitia doesn’t. I can practically feel her gaze boring into me, the displeasure radiating from her Eye in the sky, but I don’t care. That’s then, and this is now - and right now, Ezekiel moves, only to crash into some kind of wolf-lizard.
Snarling at him, the monster bares its fangs. “My blood-sibling is down there, priest. I will present them your entrails as a gift,” the wolf says with a grin, and its claws bite through the air, moving far faster than they should. Ezekiel parries with a mana-barrier of course, but the wolf simply turns translucent.
A burst of momentum carries it through the shield, and Ezekiel’s eyes widen as his chest splits open, three shallow lines carving his flesh. He is unprepared. He doesn’t know their skills, but they know ours.
Icicles shoot at him, forcing him to step back, where metal unwraps from the earth. A bear-trap snaps shut around his leg, steel spikes biting into his flesh. A mage and an engineer, I note mentally. The metal-woman is a bastion, the wulven a striker.
Ezekiel is a well-balanced build. He can heal, he can move, he can deal damage, and he can escape. But he’s also out of it. Shaken. Different.
And then I notice that their bastion has a tether to him. Which reminds me to make sure I stay very, very quiet as the screams behind me die out.
When the earth crumbles away and more of that horrid mana spills out, I am grateful for my decision. I look upon Ion, the monster-rookie, and feel fear. There is nothing on that face - not a single emotion. A blank look as Ion regards me calmly.
“Shame,” the word spills from those lips without a hint of regret. “I was looking forward to dissecting your magic.”
Another shiver trails down my spine, and once more, I find myself glad I gave up.
Then, that blank face turns to Ezekiel. Ion raises a hand, and my boss, one moment to another, crumples.
- - -
PoV: Snow Okiyama - Ion
Out of seven paths that I’ve mapped out for the healing skill, Ezekiel went along the third. It’s full of little enhancements, providing a more spread out buffing effect than pure healing. It turns him faster, his vision sharper, and his muscles strengthen.
But I found its weak spot. All the enhancements spring off a central additional node that’s stitched onto the main healing element. That stitch is complex, and complexity is a weak point. So I target the connection between healing and buffing, and the entire skill falls apart.
[Deconstruction 20 > 21]
“What?” Ezekiel croaks, as his movement suddenly slows. Then, [Suppression] sneaks into his joints. They weaken, and he slows further. I remember how he likes to move, and he still hasn’t lost some of his bad habits.
[Memorization 7 > 8]
The lattice in my mind keeps a record of it. How he likes to step a little bit too far while running, his center of gravity leaned forward, so it's easy to make him stumble. The breaking of his buff made him stumble, and as he shifts to catch himself I slow down his back foot even more. He leans too far, and falls on his face.
A blink later I step to the left.
[Intuition 6 > 7]
A lance of fire shoots through where I just stood. But it doesn’t disappear. It swings back around, arching towards me, towards the mark he placed. I hum; the mark is new, probably a feature of his hunt-related class, but I did expect that his javelins would be controlled.
It’s not quite the same as my projection, but it does have a common weak point - I just need to damage the targeting mechanism. The link between the mark and the lance is faint, but I find it with [Selection], and then I break it.
[Deconstruction 21 > 22]
The lance, halfway through turning around, shoots off and digs into the dirt. Ezekiel forms another one, but I shatter the forming spell in his hand. “That one is too slow,” I note its weakness. “You pack too much power into it, you channel too slowly. While it's forming, you establish the targeting before finishing the main circuit. So all I need to do is disrupt that center a little and - poof,” I explain, squatting down in front of him. “Gone.”
Ezekiel snarls at me, and I summon a dagger. I move it forward slowly, toward him. My mana is at about half-full. He summons a barrier, and I smile. “Now that’s an improvement,” I note. “You fixed all of the glaring flaws. They’re stable. Strong, thin.” My dagger touches the barrier, and then I frown.
“Ah, they’re still brittle. They don’t bend. You didn’t properly include a mana-lattice, no grain variation or flexibility,” I note with a hint of disappointment. All I need to do is focus, turn my dagger thinner, sharper, condensing [Deconstruction] down to a central node on the point, focus it on a single connection and-
The ripple effect shatters the entire barrier as a single part of it falls out of place. It crumbles into a thousand shards of mana-glass.
“H-how?!” Ezekiel stammer, and I smile, for the first time.
“The tower let me fight a version of you at level 80,” I tell him. “And I fought. I dragged out every single skill you have. I learnt them. And I spent a month seeing how to change them, how you might’ve grown.”
He sneers, finally, and seems to prepare. A moment passes, then another, as he pushes against me. But after my skills, he’s so weak, so feeble. I move my dagger forward, tip pressing into his skin, even as his mantle flares to create more barriers.
“From level 80,” he says slowly, a grimace worn into his face. “Then you won’t be ready for this, rat.”
I blink for a moment, and the world shifts. Pressure descends on me, and I feel fear thumping in my heart. A deep, bone-grating fear that claws at my insides like a rabid animal.
Ezekiel moves, and I focus. The fear squeezes my heart, and more blood pools from me. A force presses against me like a physical blanket, an aura like the swordswoman had, like that of the vanguard, too. It lashes against me, tearing open my skin, and blowing back my hair.
“Run, little rat,” Ezekiel commands.
The words seep into my very bones. But then, I’ve known fear like this before. I’ve moved past it before. Gritting my teeth with all I can, I hold onto him, and roll. Down the dirt ramp. Back underground. And the enchantment, with a tendril of mana, flickers on.
Me against him, one more time.
Chapter 134: Crack
/Authority. That’s what the tower grants at level 100, after the fourth threshold. It’s what climbers gotta grab before getting to the fifth floor. And they are as varied as one can imagine, except for one constant - power over the world.
An authority can cut against skills, make shearing the untouchable possible. It’s a domain, it makes everything under its purview a little easier, and everyone wants to have more of it. See, the way to expand authority is to prove worthy of it. To win.
It’s an impatient, fickle power, but evermore potent for it. But it’s conditional. Mental. You gotta make your opponent feel like they’re in your house. If you don’t, well… having your authority crack is a painful thing./
-Erodyl, level ??? Skybringer, monarch of Downpour.
- - -
Pressure squeezes down on me. My heart can’t pump, and I feel my vision go black, when the enchantment hums and sputters to life. Its batteries are low, the weave is frayed, and yet, I force it to work. Even as the thing I so painstakingly crafted falls apart, its power rises.
The people in the city know, and must be swarming here to watch. My friends above know, but they can’t step closer, either. I feel the weight choking me, driving the air from my throat, when finally, I press back.
Mana storms the world, and I press back against that invisible aura around Ezekiel. That thing that allows him to strangle me without a touch. He grunts in effort, but still, invisible tendrils reach out to me, wrap around me, and toss me.
I slam into the wall at the edge of the cave, my vision sputtering again. My bones hurt, and blood coats my tongue. “Stay down, hare. Let me kill you already,” Ezekiel snarls, and when I look up, he doesn’t look scithian anymore.
His crystal wings are filled with eyes, pure, radiant white, staring at me. His mouth has grown wild fangs, his hands are claws, and he looks to have twisted some of Respitia’s light into something more dark, more violent. That power pours from him in droves, tears into me, makes me want to run.
But I refuse.
Instead, I control the enchantment. I release more mana. I press back against the fear, against the terror that pours off of him so easily. My teeth ache from the force in the air. Blood streams down my face, staining me further. Kuro quivers in my shadow. And still, I stand up. I push, I fight, I strain.
[Suppression 25 > 26]
Ezekiel grunts with exertion, flexing that invisible force. I can’t target it properly - I can.
[Selection 23 > 24]
Instantly, the weight he feels redoubles. For a moment, he staggers, but then his legs twist into something monstrous, something predatory, and he regains his footing. His maw snarls at me, fangs bared and violent. “Give up,” he demands.
“Fuck off,” I reply. Strain pours through me, rippling through my aching veins… but it’s just effort. I bear it, and my epitaph helps. I can bear it. Blood vessels pop under my skin, turning me red with bruises, but I still hold on, even as mana enough to tear me apart channels through me, held at bay by my own mind.
It crushes into Ezekiel, and he fights back. That invisible aura of his, so violent and raging, explodes with stored power. He must have been preparing it for the kill, to take us all out, and now, he’s spending it all on me. Some kind of storage ability?
As I stare, he laughs, stalking towards me with sauntering steps, revelling in his victory. “Hah! You don’t even know what this is,” he mocks with a grin. “You don’t understand, do you? This is authority.”
And that makes me laugh. Despite everything, I just can’t help it. “Hahahahaha!”
Ezekiel’s eyes twitch. “What’s so funny?” he asks, stepping even closer. He’s right in front of me now, bright darkness occupying all of my vision as fear builds in my stomach. A monstrous claw presses into my throat, denting the skin. “What are you laughing about?!”
I smile faintly at the question. “I’ve always had a problem with authority,” I say calmly. At his outrage, the fear in my heart quivers a little, shaking. “And now, you’re that problem. Authority, haha,” I snicker again. “How silly.”
At that, the priest snarls. “I’ll show you silly,” he says, and his claws dig into my stomach, splitting my flesh. It burns, even as more mana pours from me to suppress his motion. He’s slow and weak and pathetic, but he still digs into my insides. But he slows.
Then I pause. The fear shook. He’s slowing. His authority… is it limited? Influenced by something? I think, my mind racing.
“Eyes on me,” Ezekiel demands, grabbing onto my face, tilting it upwards to meet the horror. “Show me your pain, hare. Show me your agony. Let me drink your fear.”
“Does that work on most people?” I ask with a frown. With a snarl, he digs further into me, and I can feel my stomach split open, giving a rasping gasp of pain. A pathetic wheeze.
The hunter stares at me, fury quivering through him. “Pathetic wretch,” he says, tossing me aside, leaving me sprawled on the floor, blood pooling under me. “Run, already.” Mana makes the wounds worse, causing my body to fall apart as we fight. It’s brutal and violent, and no one else can approach.
Is that a feature of his authority, too, I wonder? Does it assign roles?
I don’t run. I just sit, and stare, and think, more and more mana ravaging me to slow him down. There is something almost like frustration on his face. “Fear me!” he demands. “Run, prey!”
And then it clicks.
My mind races, and I smile as I solve the riddle. My own mana tears me apart, my legs shaking, but I still rise to my feet. “No,” I whisper, voice raspy and ragged with pain.
Ezekiel, Bright Priest of the Hunt, sneers at me. He dashes forward, claws ready to kill, and-
[Selection 24 > 25]
I breathe. He stumbles. There’s a look of disbelief on his face, on the face of my prey. [Suppression] resonates violently, the tether like a rope bridge caught in a storm, but it holds. It designates who we are. And his authority turns.
Bright Priest of the Hunt. That’s his authority. Hunting.
There is a primal fear there, one that dug into my bones, one that twisted him into a terror. But fear is treacherous. It goes both ways.
And Ezekiel? He’s felt it. The way the raw mana from my enchantment slammed into his authority, and pressed it inwards. With every defiant move, it was a blow to his aura. My laughter a hammerblow, my scorn a dagger. And now?
[Selection] reaches out and assigns him a role. It contradicts his authority. It plays the game of power and says to swap places.
It shouldn’t be possible. Authority can damage skills, after all, but this time… it’s true, isn’t it? He stepped into my trap. The hunt, by nature, is reversible. His pack has been slaughtered, and this lone wolf is in front of me, baring his teeth. Because he’s terrified of me.
Terrified of losing his freedom again. Of being put back in a cage. Terrified that I might win. Because he knows it’s possible. He’s seen the brutality.
Across all the weeks he’s stalked us, hunted us, he tried to wear us down, but we grew. I grew. I walked through his blizzard, I survived his ambush, I escaped his chase, and I set a trap. It all built to this - to the moment where he would win or lose. Kill or be killed.
And now, there were two knives with me.
[Suppression], fuelled by my enchantment, caging his authority. He could not hunt me properly, because he is slow and in agony. His skills don’t work. All he has is power, and he isn’t that much stronger than me. And, of course, [Selection]. Telling him his role, telling me how to feel about him.
When I designate him as prey, the fear vanishes from my mind. The pain becomes an afterthought. I smile, mercifully, as I rise, even with a perforated stomach. And Ezekiel… takes a step back.
“What?” he says, breathlessly. “How? I am- this isn’t-”
And I watch, as finally, under all the pressure of the enchantment, his authority cracks.
A splinter of fear drives into it, and my mana instantly floods in. The stuff is so dense, it’s still tearing at my skin. I am turned into a patch of bleeding bruises, my skin lacerating itself from the storm of magic, but I stand. I step forward.
Ezekiel scuttles back on the ground.
Another splinter rips free from his authority, and he screams in pain. I hear him. I can feel it break. The cracks grow and spread. They keep growing, until his back is against a wall. Until my mana has chipped away at his authority, and its edges grow raw and jagged. Until I walk to him, pressing a knife to his throat for a second time.
I look into his eyes and they quiver. He’s terrified. I move my hand forward slowly, blood trickling down his neck when the knife breaks skin. “No,” he whispers, tears trickling from his eyes, but it’s too late.
His authority breaks.
Like a castle, it falls apart, the bricks crumbling. My enchantment burns out, finally, with a horrid whine as the threads tear into each other. The mana, so thick, instantly begins to fall apart, becoming nothing more than ambient with a last whine of power.
I stand above him, as he looks up at me, eyes wide and terrified. The mana in the area falls. My skills remain powered by my meagre vessel, almost empty now, and I slowly breathe. Then I rise.
[You have crushed Ezekiel’s authority of the hunt. Claim an Authority.]
My hand moves, but then Opal appears next to me, stopping me for just a moment, staying my killing blow. “Why?” I ask, quietly.
And they smile. “Let Inu do it. Trust me.”
For a long moment, I stare, then, slowly, I nod.
With a stumble, I step away from Ezekiel. “I win,” I say. Then, I grin wildly. “I win, you fucker. See that Respitia?” I ask, looking to the sky with a smile. “Another pawn of yours, finished. Wanna send another? Fine. I’ll kill them, if I need to. I’ll break each and every poor bastard you send to finish me.”
[Respitia the Pure returns your contempt.]
“But this one?” I point a knife, then shake my head. “I won’t kill him. See, I already got an authority from him. I broke him. Broke his magic, because that’s what I do. And now, apparently, I’m gonna let a friend of mine kill him. Inu?”
The timid girl steps forward, joining us underground. She has a conflicted expression on her face. Almost troubled, and she looks at me, seeking help. I nod, and her [Empathy] latches onto me, onto my emotions.
She draws from that void. That empty place where it doesn’t matter if Ezekiel lives or dies. She swallows drily, but when Opal gives her another nod, she steadies herself. And with another worthless whisper from Ezekiel, she punches.
Her blow lands, resonates with a high-pitch hum, and then his head splatters into blood against the wall, smearing it red. Some parts of it stain her gauntlet, and a droplet of blood lands on her cheek, staining her grimace red. “Ah,” she says quietly. “I see. That means…”
“Yep,” Opal nods. “Killing ones gives an authority. And looking at what Snow did, well…” they grin. “The five of us might all have one, now.”
Chapter 135: Spoils
The rest of the day turns into a blur. At some point, Inu pulls me into a hug, which I return, smearing blood all over her hair. Opal claps me on the back, and Thatch gives me small smiles. My entire body aches, and I’m covered with blood and dirt, but no one cares.
Exhaustion digs deeply into my bones as I stumble up into the inn, until Bay stops me. “Headphones.” She says more, but that’s the only word I hear. For a moment, I bristle, ready to fight to the death, but then…
I see the spark dancing along her finger, and my eyes widen. No. No way. I don’t dare to hope, even as I rush, stumble, and fall to my room, pulling out the piece of plastic and metal from my backpack with ceremonious care. Very slowly, I pass them to her, and there’s a flicker of power.
My finger presses onto the button, and then, after two torturous seconds, there’s that familiar, machine-like voice. “Power on,” it says. And the world grows dimmer, as the noise cancelling kicks in.
For the second time that day, laughter bubbles out of me. It hurts my chest, and I lose it in a cough, hacking up blood, but I don’t care. The injuries don’t matter as I laugh, sinking to my knees.
“Are you crying?” Bay asks, the words dull and crackly through the noise cancellation.
I laugh even harder, tears crawling down my face. “Yeah! Hahahaha, yeah. I’m crying. I’m sobbing, even,” I manage between laughter. “Can you get my phone as well?”
“... Yeah,” Bay says slowly, and I hand it to her. There’s another zap, and she returns it to me, with 89% battery.
My fingers tremble, and it takes me three tries to unlock the stupid thing, and two more to turn on the bluetooth. Then, shakily, I press the button on my music player, and it flicks on. Some dumb, metal-vocaloid song. I laugh again, sobbing.
“Thank you,” I say. Her lips move and I shake my head. “I can’t hear you right now, but thank you.” She frowns, and I laugh even more. “Yes, I could turn the music down. But I won’t.” In fact, I turn it up louder, so loud she can hear it. “I’m gonna not hear anyone for the next two hours or so.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose with a smile, shaking her head. Then, she raises her hand in goodbye, and walks out of my room.
About fifteen minutes later, I pass out from blood loss.
- - -
When I wake up, there’s a finger jabbing my cheek. I grimace, but force open my eyes nonetheless. The lids are sticky with crusted over blood, since I’ve been leaking again. Like a damaged water faucet.
Grimacing from the pain, I force my eyes open, to see Sylves’ face in front of me. Her lips are moving, but I can’t hear anything - which is when I remember that my headphones still work. And are still playing music.
Instantly, I feel elation again, sinking back into the wall. Then it hits me that I’ve not seen Sylves in two weeks.
With a casual, practiced gesture, I quickly flick off my headphones, letting them rest around my neck, and throw her a dazzling smile. “Hey, Sylves. You are real, right? Not a figment of my imagination turned valkyrie, ready to take me to valhalla?”
The girl stops pouting, and withdraws her testing finger from my cheek, replacing the expression with a wide smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead Snow!” she says enthusiastically. “Gosh, I missed ya. Hug?” She opens her arms wide in request.
Snickering softly, I lean forward, wrapping my arms around her. She tussles my hair at the same time I do to her. “Glad to have you back,” I whisper.
For a moment, her breath hitches, and she gets so very, very quiet. “Even… after everything? After I disappeared? After I-”
I roll my eyes, then squeeze her tighter. “Yes. Even then. No matter what you did. You could have killed every climber on the third floor, and I’d still welcome you back.”
At that, she laughs, pressing her head into me, and squeezing me so hard I can feel my wounds reopen. “Ow, ow, ow!” I complain, and she quickly lowers the pressure with a happy sigh. There are tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
“I really did miss you, Snow,” she says quietly, smiling so radiantly.
I return the expression, trailing a finger along her cheek. “I missed you too, Sylves. My favourite fairy.”
Then, her eyes widen. “Have you been crying?” she asks.
Snickering, I nod. “Bay charged my headphones. I happy cried.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” she nods. Then, she lets herself fall backwards, staring at the ceiling in the room. “Glad to have you back at full efficiency.”
“Not quite,” I complain. “You see, my body is riddled with holes-”
Sylves waves her hand dismissively. “Child’s play.”
“I only have one arm-”
She holds up her stump in solidarity. “Aye!”
“And my mana is currently overflowing and trying to kill me, so I’m gonna rein that in real quick,” I say with a snicker, reapplying my attunement loop before more blood pours from me. There’s so much dry and flaking off already, I don’t need to make it worse.
Once I’ve wrangled my mana, I pour about half my vessel into a supercharged healing spell.
[Biological Restoration 18 > 20]
Ah, the level jump must be all the knowledge I stole from Ezekiel. I smile at it, at the energy coursing through me, closing over the many bleeding tears on my outsides and insides. “Phew. Feels a lot better to not have holes in my gut.”
“You had what?!” Sylves yells, sitting up again and staring at me.
I pull up my shirt to reveal 5 patches of pale scars. “Yeah. Ezekiel grew crazy claws when trying to kill me. Some fear bullshit. But I wasn’t afraid. So, I’m alive, and he’s dead in a ditch. My ditch, actually. I made Bile dig it.”
“Wouldn’t that make it Bile’s ditch?” Opal asks, raising an eyebrow. They stand in the entrance to my room, smiling brightly. “Also, morning, Sleepysnow.”
“My ditch,” I repeat. Then, I lean against the wooden wall, stretching my sore legs. “Anyway, how long was I out?” I ask.
Thatch’s head appears over Opal’s shoulder. “Half a day,” he supplies helpfully, and our heroic blademaster steps aside to let our friendly rage-monk inside. Thatch instantly claims my bed without hesitation, taking a seat on the sheets. “Long enough for me to deal with all the cleanup from your little pet project. Town lord was not pleased.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “We killed some undead and stopped the town from blowing up. He can pipe down.”
“We’re being asked to do a whole lot more than that,” Thatch notes with a roll of his eyes. “He wants you to make some enchantments for him. And all of us to fight. For free.”
As the last one of our little crew, Inu walks in. There’s something different about her, even as she stands in casual clothing. Some weight clinging to her. I furrow my brows and look closer.
And then my eyes widen. “No way. You stored armor in there?!”
Inu grins smugly. “Yes, I did,” she replies lazily, leaning against the doorframe. “But that’s not important right now. The town lord.”
“Yeah, so, like, we’re fucking dipping, right?” Opal asks, using their bound longsword to pick dirt from under their nails.
Inu laughs for a moment, dragging a hand through her messy hair. “I love running from my responsibilities, I guess?”
“Oh, yeah, we’re running. For sure,” Thatch nods.
Sylves eyes him for a moment. “You didn’t, like, tell them that, did you, Thatch?”
The boy laughs, shaking his head. “Hah! No. I lied to their stupid faces. They really think we’ll stay. So silly.”
“When are we heading out?” I ask. “I needa check my notifications beforehand.”
Opal whistles. “Check the notifications, Snow says,” they say with a snicker. “My, my. I’m sure you’re in for a treat, friend. See there’s-”
Sylves quickly shoots from the floor in a gust of air, smacking a hand over the enby’s mouth. “Don’t spoil it, rockhead.” Then she smiles at me. “Check it for yourself, Snow.”
Smiling slightly under their watchful gaze, I open my notifications.
[Class up! Nullmage 21 > 25]
That makes sense. It’s focused on breaking and dealing with magic, and I did break an authority, after all.
[Level Up! 64 > 75]
And that made my eyes widen. “Whoa. Level jump.”
“Ezekiel was level 133,” Inu supplies helpfully.
Ah. That’ll do it.
I nod, slowly, then decide on what to do with the stats. A moment later, they’re allocated.
Sylves giggles, laying sideways in mid air. “All mana?” she asks.
Tilting my head, I look at her. “Am I that predictable?”
“Absolutely,” Opal confirms. “Mana maniac.”
“Vessel addict,” Thatch chimes in helpfully.
I roll my eyes slightly, and smile, moving onto the other things I’ve missed.
[Congratulations!]
[You have raised two skills to level 25. For your exemplary performance, you have acquired 1 class change voucher. Additional knowledge on skills will be revealed. Brace.]
[Congratulations!]
[You have reached level 25 in your second class. To continue advancing, change your class with a voucher or via tithe.]
The first of those notifications should have been a standard voucher gain. But then, when are things normal, anyway? I feel my head pound as information pours into me, even when it all boils down to a simple truth: Skills can fuse.
And now I know how.
Thresholds are, once again, the answers. When skills press up against thresholds - level 10, 25, 50, 100, they become malleable. Soft. Pliable.
When there are two skills, with overlapping or synergistic functionality at the threshold, pushing them both can alloy them. Fuse them into one. The process is illustrated in more detail, but I let it pass me by as I breathe.
And then, one more notification, buzzing in my ears. I want to change my class, too, of course, but before that…
[You have crushed Ezekiel’s authority of the hunt. Claim an Authority.]
“Show me my options,” I hum with a smile.
Instantly, another menu pops open.
[Authority: Desolation
Glassed earth, salted ground
Where no more life can be found,
Desolation’s crown.]
[Authority: Defiance
No kings, no gods, none.
No one above another.
Stand against the throne.]
[Authority: Efficiency
Do not waste a breath,
To bring to life breadth and depth,
Stagnation is death.]
[Authority: Silence
A breeze’s graceful
Touch on your cheek. It whispers
Without words at all.]
[Authority: Curiosity
The world is bright, so
Full of life, and things to know
Reach out. Take them home.]
As my eyes fall on the first entry on that list, I frown. It sucks to read. Desolation is what I’m offered first, as if it’s the prime thing the system knows me for. Killing and ruin. I sigh, softly, but nod. Because it is part of who I am. So, I let myself feel the disappointment, then keep reading.
The good news is that it does get better. Defiance, as a second choice, was nicer. Because, well, I said it before. I do have a problem with authority. So, reading over it, I almost snicker. But, at the same time, I don’t want to be defined by my animosity towards people. It’s part of who I am, and yet, there is more to me. I want to be more than that, at least.
Which is when I come upon Efficiency. The way I push myself, the way I reach forward, refuse to stand still. The way I need to keep pushing, keep trying, because it’s the right thing to do. Because there is always another step to take, another mountain to climb, and there is a way to move forward best. Without wasting my time, by making the most of my effort. It’s, in a way, about respecting myself. And I like that.
Next up, I find Silence, and that is the first time that a small shiver runs up my spine. I like silence. It’s such a wonderfully rare thing, and the words promise it so gently. I draw in a long, deep breath, as I read the poem over and over again. Four, five times, and smile. It’s a nice promise. One that speaks to me, silently. And that’s enough all on its own.
And finally, there’s Curiosity. I’m glad it’s being offered to me. I know it’s silly, but the Tower seems like a largely accurate arbiter, and seeing facets of my personality laid out like that is almost comforting. Even if I hate myself for the destruction I cause, even if it’s a part of me I can’t deny, there is more than that. And for that, I feel gratitude.
Except, of course, that I now need to decide. Desolation is out because I can destroy well enough. Curiosity is out, because it overlaps my mantle too much. Defiance is out because it is too external, too conditional. Which leaves it between silence and efficiency.
The first is something I want. Something I reach for desperately. Something that should belong to me, that I want to take. But it is not quite yet something I have. Efficiency, meanwhile, is written in both my epitaphs. There is a proof of character that I don’t yet have for silence. And something tells me I need that proof for an authority. That I need to be worthy of it.
So, with a heavy heart, I let silence softly seep away, and take efficiency for myself.
Instantly, the concept seeps into me, drives long claws into my spine. Thin, ephemeral needles pierce my skin, tuning me, turning me into something more efficient. Faster, stronger, and more talented. More ready to grow. Less wasteful.
It settles over me with a physical weight, a blanket that recedes within my body, that bubbles underneath my skin, that roils around my heart. It’s a wild beast, a malleable force, and a friend all at once. Demanding, but rewarding.
[Fourth Threshold (authority) crossed! Due to reaching it without prerequisite supremacy, you have been awarded 1 lesser request]
For a moment, I let the information packet on authority wash over me, and then I nod as I understand. It progresses in stages. Novice, initiate, adept, expert, master…
Of course, I start at the bottom. As a novice of efficiency. That’s fine, though. I’ll grow more, and that’s okay. Finally, there is one more menu for me to open. I trigger my voucher and let the choices sprawl out of me.
[Class Options: , , , , , [New!] , [New!] , [New!] , [New!] , [New!] , [New!] ]
I filtered out the sponsored options, since they’ve been just getting on my nerves. Still, there are a lot of new choices, so I have to think it over. What to pick, then?