Chapter 148: Mana. Lots of it.
My eyes move over the options, then cross them out one by one. I’m keeping my healing hidden, so not biochanter. Threads are something I can steal from Amelie and Sylves. Moonlight is overrated, reinforcement something I’m already learning, grand array is too slow, and instiller too simple.
Runic Amplifier is strong. It’s very tempting, even. The promise of directly enhancing all my enchantments is very enticing. Accelerating their use cases against higher level opponents would be nice…
But what if I fed them more mana, though?
I select core controller and don’t look back.
[Job gained: ]
[Stat bonuses: +3 > +6 Vessel per level]
[Experience modules: Enchanting, Imbuing, Corecrafting]
My eyes read over the stat boost again. Six points of vessel each level. It added three stat points… which must make it a tier three job. That also means it probably goes to level 50 before I can change job again.
Doing the math, that would actually mean picking up stat growth slower than if I kept getting tier one jobs. But… that’s just going by level. I have a suspicion that higher tier classes, while requiring more experience, also level faster. And bring higher bonuses. After all, with each threshold I meet, the essence packet I get is bigger.
So, level 50 in core crafter will probably net me a lot of essence. Speaking of essence, though…
[Essence Bestowed: Cores.]
A veritable flood of knowledge stings into my brain, enough to temporarily overload my [Memorization]. Enough to disorient me, sending me sliding to the ground roughly. I gasp in pain, feeling arcs of lightning going from my brain through my shoulderblades. For a second, my attunement loop breaks - all my mana focused on weaving more threads around my brain…
Then my mantle activates. It’s enhanced by my authority, and that strange construct of geometric lines lays itself around my shoulders. It drinks up the massive influx of essence, devouring it, archiving it, processing it so I can properly take it in. In fact, it even enhances what I gain from the essence.
I get absorbed in the new knowledge for another breath, my eyes glazing over as I just think of the applications, when I feel the consequences of letting my mana free.
Spilling from my vessel is pure power. Mana slips through the cracks, no longer content to be contained by such a flimsy thing. The attunement loop itself is something the mana grows used to, after all. Growing wilder.
Now, for the first time, I properly feel the consequences. Keeping my mana suppressed, caged, has made it denser. Heavier, stronger. It exits through my vessel, uncontrolled, and flays open my skin. Cracks break through the top layer of my flesh, as my bones rattle and vibrate from the energy, choking me.
Skin peels away like a blossoming flower,the mana carving its way out as cracks expand into lacerations and my chest opens, muscle and fat revealed.
Instantly, as soon as I notice, I reapply the attunement loop. It was only a second, so the area is small. Half a handspan of loose skin and bleeding. Kuro is already drinking the crimson fluid as I hold my mana under control again. For another second, my vessel vibrates… then my attunement loop fully wraps around it again.
[Suppression] is a cage that holds my mana steady. If I’m not using it, it has to get out. In doing so, it’ll crack my vessel, it’ll shear through my muscles, and it’ll crack my skin. Slowly, I breathe, channelling the mana into [Biological Restoration] in a black box. My skin mends, my muscles sneak back into place.
I breathe, slowly.
Then I smile.
If my mana can do that to me… then what’ll it do to someone I’m pointing it at?
- - -
A few more seconds pass until I’ve gathered myself. My wounds are mended, and the adrenaline from having my vessel almost explode on me fades. I breathe in, then out, then in again, and focus.
[Vessel Construction] triggers.
[Vessel Construction 5 > 6]
The level comes almost effortlessly. With what I’ve learned about cores, that much makes sense - after all, they’re really just artificial vessels. Pathetic imitations that are terribly hard to modify once finished, but that nevertheless draw from principles that come from regular vessels.
Knowing more about them saves me weeks… no, months of experimentation. I instantly apply some of the principles to my own forging, filling the cracks with stronger material, properly welding it shut, then weaving a support-lattice around the outside of my core to keep up counterpressure, and then additionally adding diffusal zones to that lattice - isometric planes that can vibrate to safely disperse some amount of leaking mana.
That little stunt nets me the skill level, and I smile. As usual, the essence doesn’t tell me everything. I know more about cores now, but I decided which principles to use, how to weave the lattice, and to combine it with the dispersal planes. But what it does provide is perspective. Options.
Where before I was fumbling in the dark, I now have a flashlight. It lets me see the path more clearly… but I can also see where I’ve already diverged from what people consider “proper”. Namely, my vessel is incredibly overloaded! Who would’ve guessed? Not me. I didn’t expect this. Surely I could have never seen this coming. Probably. Surely.
Regardless of how wise or sane or generally futureproof my stat allocation decisions may or may not be… I still smile. The essence is useful. I can already think of half a dozen ways to change cores, create mana generation feedback loops, properly preserve them, use them in enchanting arrays…
Drawing my cloak tight around myself, I smile. “Let’s head home, Kuro. We have work to do.”
And I step back out into the ice-slick roads, while sleet pours from the air. Wind pulls at me, making the darkness billow behind me, revealing the stump of my shoulder hanging loose inside a sleeve - just a little longer than before. Slowly but surely, I’m modifying my healing skill.
Slowly but surely, we’re ingratiating ourselves into the web of favours that defines the fifth floor of the tower. Hiding from the guards, hiding from the Respitia and the way she’d hunt me down if she knew about the healing spell. I smile to myself.
There’s no reason to lie about it. I know Respitia knows where I am. But I also know she can’t directly tell anyone. Because that would be far too much interference. No, if she wants to tell anyone properly, she needs me to slip up. To heal something out in the open, for someone else to notice and tell one of her loyalists.
So I do what I do best. I hide it all. The thoughts inside my head, the emotions in my heart, the skills I’ve earned by fighting hard for them. And now, I even wear [Obfuscation], too, hiding myself further.
Some might say I’m dishonorable. A coward for hiding, that it’s weak or pathetic. And they might be right. But there’s one other thing it is - efficient.
For now, I walk the streets as Yuki. I head back to the inn. I rest my head on the pillow, thoughts swimming about enchantments, and I close my eyes.
Until an explosion rocks the ground floor. Just in time for breakfast.
Chapter 149: Lars Arsonist
Yawning sleepily, I head downstairs, trying to see what all the ruckus is about. They’re very lucky that my headphones were firmly placed on the nightstand and didn’t fall off. No water spilled on them either. Otherwise, there might be bodies to clean up.
Instead of murder, I just walk down. Headphones securely wrapped around my neck. As soon as I turn the corner on the stairs, I see it. A debate between two people got kind of heated - a zoof wielding a long staff, sprawled out on the floor, rolling side to side, trying to extinguish the fire licking at their fur. Above them stands a sneering… Human, I noted. Huh.
“That’s what you get, fucking npc. Fucking trying to tell me who to identify and not,” he says with a sneer, then spits on them. Heat still radiates off him, and I tilt my head softly.
It has been a little while since we got here, I suppose. That must mean the first humans made it up here naturally. This guy seems to have a ton of temper stored in his greasy black hair, so hopefully he won’t approach me.
His eyes turn towards me, dark green circles widening in surprise. “The fuck?” he asks. “Another human? Holy shit, I thought I was among the first to make it up here! My name’s Lars, yours?” As he talks, his lips widen to a big smile, and he raises his arms as he walks towards me. “Shit, you been up here for long? You got a proper cloak and everything. I got soaked, haha!” he laughs.
As he moves to embrace me, I step back, making him grab at air. No way am I letting him get his drenched, wet hands all over my precious electronics. “Huh? The fuck?” he asks, confused that I’d withdraw. “What, you think you’re fuckin’ better than me, too?”
Instantly, Lars tries to identify me. I can feel his mana come towards me in that telltale style - but I slap it aside. A bit of [Solidification] imbued with [Deconstruction] to create a barrier that dismantles his attempt. At that, his advance freezes again. He’d just started walking towards me once more, when his footsteps stop.
“Huh,” he says quietly. Then, he barks out a laugh. “Hah! Hahaha!” He points at me, trying to jab a finger into my chest, which I gracefully sidestep again. “You fuck! You got nerve, bastard. Haha! That’s the difference between us humans and these fuckin’ npcs, though, isn’t it? That we got guts. Bravery. Real spirit.”
Once more, Lars attempts to touch me, trying to wrap his arm around my shoulder. This time, he moves with supernatural speed, trying to enter my space. So I [Suppress] him and step out of the way. It even make him stumble for a moment, the speed-up and following slow-down tripping him.
Then he looks at me again. “Hey, hey,” he says, voice suddenly lower. “Why aren’t you talking, bitch?” He stares at me with anger in his eyes as if I’d insulted him, yet the actual insult comes without any heat. Just an identifying term like any other.
“I’m particular about my personal space,” I say slowly. At the same time, I use [Obfuscation], creating something of an illusion about where I stand, moving slightly back and to the side while he still sees me in the same place. I use Kuro, too, having them expand my cloak a little, hiding more of my features.
Suddenly bursting out in laughter again, the fire in the man’s eyes dies off. He raises his arms placatingly. “Fine, fine, sheesh. You sure are a prickly bitch, eh? Still better than these half-real worthless fucks, though,” Lars says, giving me a grin that says he truly believes we’re in agreement on this, while pointing at the rest of the inn.
Who are already eyeing us with unrestrained ire. Everyone, especially Zinc is shooting glares at the guy, and now, some of those are directed at me as well. I sigh, softly. Why does trouble always find me. “Do you really think these people aren’t real?” I ask, tilting my head slightly.
“Huh?” he asks, genuine surprise written across his features. “‘Course they aren’t. If they were, I’d be a murderer! Hah! How silly would that be? Nah, fam. These people are here as part of the game. Kill ‘em for some exp!”
I frown. “They’re real people.”
“Yeah!” one of the other patrons yells. “Just as real as anyone!”
The man instantly shoots him a glare. “Fucking zip it, fake.” Then he turns to me, and shakes his head with a gentle smile. Almost manic, desperate. As if he needs to believe it. “No, no, they’re fake. See, I’ll show you they’re fake. Look-” he summons a fireball from his fingers. It hovers over them for a moment. “Anyone real could survive it, see-”
With a casual motion, he throws it. The flames flicker through the air, at a hapless scithian woman. She gasps in surprise as the fire streaks towards her, as if not quite grasping what’s happening.
Before her face catches fire, I [Deconstruct] the spell.
Flames fizzle out and return to nothing before they land. Very slowly, the man looks at me, then snickers. “Hah. You… you really think they’re real, huh? Haha. Hahaha!” And then he holds his stomach. “No, nononono.” His eyes turn gleeful again, sparks flickering on the edges. “See, they’re fakes. They’re fakes so I can burn them, so I can-”
And then his eyes latch onto me. I’ve realized it, now. What he’s a part of. How he made it up so fast.
[The Flametouched has its Eye on you. It hopes you like its newest acolyte.]
Instantly, I triple down on [Obfuscation], hiding the mark that was left on me, hoping that the pyromaniac doesn’t notice. He stares at me intently, eyes wide open, hair covering his face. “You’re not real, either,” he whispers. “You’re a thin fake fuck. I’ll- I’ll fucking burn you too. I’ll burn-”
There’s a soft pop, then a loud noise, and Lars falls over as I step back.
Opal stands behind him, giving a low whistle. “Phew. What a weirdo. You okay, Yuki?” they ask with a small smile. Their sword is in their hands, vibrating from the blow. Opal must’ve smacked the guy on the back of the head with the flat of the blade, knocking him out.
“Yeah, all good,” I say slowly.
[The Flametouched clicks its many tongues. Its newest avatar will find you again. Once he spots the mark, the hunt will begin.]
I sigh softly. Great, yet another thing to hide. Despite my annoyance, Opal simply nods and smiles. “Glad to hear it. Well! I’ll get this guy on out, sounds like he was bothering everyone, anyway,” they say with a smirk, then easily hoist the dude over their shoulder. I nod again, and Opal gets some soft cheers from the patrons.
While they walk, I identify the weirdo.
[Living Torch, lv. 104]
Still, he went down in one blow from Opal… probably a power-vessel focused build, then? For maximum burning. I look at Lars leaving out through the door, then my eyes fall to the zoof, still stuck on the ground. By the mana that radiates off them, they’re no higher than level 40.
Their fur is burnt, and I can see that even the skin underneath is singed. It smells like carbon and I frown slightly as they give a groan of pain, trying to pull themselves up and stumbling. Very carefully, I approach them, giving them the least hostile stare I can manage.
“Come on up to my room. We have some bandages there. We’ll get you right as rain in no time,” I say, as softly as I can manage. It still comes out deadpan.
Despite that, the zoof smiles ever so faintly, and nods, rallying to their feet. “Thank you,” they say quietly.
I nod, gently. Hopefully, they won’t rat me out when I heal them.
Chapter 150: Kindness
“Close your eyes,” I tell the zoof. They look at me with a bit of fear, but eventually, give a shaky nod and do as I ask.
“We have a healing treasure,” I lie slowly. “We hide it away. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t steal it. Don’t look at it.”
Again, the zoof nods, and half a breath later, Kuro envelops us in a black box. Light winks out of existence as the shadows embrace both me and them. Slowly, I breathe in. Then out. A single heartbeat later, I hold my hands above the burnt fur and channel [Biological Restoration].
It takes a while to take hold, as if there were some residual fire or heat clinging to the wounds. I drown that in raw mana, suffocating the sticking problems. My vessel strains at the amount I’m channelling as tons of power pour from me into the skill construct. I adjust it, just a little, to take the amount of power better, to be more efficient.
A breath passes, and it finally takes hold. Gold-white mana clings to the wounds, sinking into them, knitting burnt patches of skin shut. The zoof slims down a tiny but noticeable bit, but besides giving a small whimper, they don’t complain much.
Second by second, the pain abates for them. Their face grows more relieved, and by the end of it, I note that they even fall asleep, with a faint smile. When I’ve used about a quarter of my mana, I sigh and nod to myself. I stretch out an arm, and Kuro quickly wraps around me as a cloak again, shielding my missing arm and the burnt mark.
Slowly, I turn away from the bed, finding Opal already in the room with me, sitting on their bunk bed, one leg crossed, the other dangling in the air. They give me a faint smile. “I dropped burny guy in the streets. Want me to murk him?”
“No,” I shake my head, then tilt it. “Why?”
“He’s gonna kill more people,” Opal says calmly, fixing me with a nonchalant stare.
Nodding, I think it over. “He’s got a bomb in him,” I say simply, and their eyes widen a little.
“Oh, shit.”
Again, I nod, then smile just faintly and wave a hand. “Toss him into a gutter. Let him fall to the fourth. If he dies, he’ll just explode some zombies. If he lives, he’ll have to crawl up again. And we have plausible deniability.”
My long-time friend snicker at that, covering their mouth with a hand. “Plausible deniability?” they ask with amusement. “Like he’s gonna think he randomly passed out?”
“We’ll shift the blame on Respitia,” I say with a shrug and a smirk. Would it work? Probably not. But then again, Lars seemed like a human… enthusiast, I’ll say, so maybe gaslighting him into blowing someone else up is doable.
Again, Opal smirks. “Devious. Alright, we’ll buy more time. Always more time, eh?” they ask cheerily, then move to channel some mana.
“Opal?” I ask quietly.
Instantly, the everpresent grin on their face vanishes. They unsummon their sword, eyes looking at me seriously. “Yeah?” they ask.
“Big favour, but could you bring the zoof downstairs?” I ask quietly. “I don’t want to be touched. Or touch someone.” Another shiver of disgust runs through me at the casual disregard of my personal space. Lars didn’t even touch me. He seemed friendly, even, in that way that rugged people with no sense are.
Perhaps, in some other world, him and I could have gotten along. But right now, I just feel disgusting. I want to scrape my skin off at the way he so casually reached for me.
Hopping down from their bed, Opal nods gently. They don’t speak, knowing me so well. Instead, they sign a few simple words with quick gestures. Just an affirmation, telling me they got it. Then, they walk a large circle around me, careful to maintain distance as possible while remaining in my line of sight.
Gently, they scoop up the zoof, giving me another small smile. I sign a thank you to them, and they nod. Then, they walk downstairs.
The door drops closed, and a moment later, I lean against the wall. The wood is rough against my, and I tap Kuro.
Instantly, they get my intent, and the cloak unlatches. Shadows drop off me like water dripping from an umbrella. Kuro consolidates, landing on the ground as the centipede-cat. They look at me with wide eyes, as if asking whether they can support me. I slowly shake my head.
With a quick nod, they curl up near me - but not too close. I sink down against the wall, putting my headphones back on. Closing my eyes. The outside world turns dull and dark and quiet. I focus on my breathing, on what’s inside of me. The things no one can take away.
I focus.
For a long, long while, nothing happens. After about fifteen minutes, I take a breath, a little less shaky than before. My hand reaches out, and I softly scratch Kuro’s head. My shadow-friend gives a small purr at that, inching faintly closer.
Bit by bit, the disgust recedes. Waves of it, dragging back into the ocean. I breathe, I focus, I meditate. Eventually, when I feel ready, I reach out for my mana, shaping it. There’s a pressure against my will, something heavy and wild, but as part of my meditation, I am nothing if not in control.
My mana writhes and fights me. It wants to be wild and free. To break and wreck things. Just like me. But I’m in control.
I breathe in and out. My mana brushes against my will, and it shivers. Is it afraid? Perhaps it should be.
With slow, controlled motions, I reach out for it. When I take hold of that power which belongs to me, which spawns from my vessel, I breathe. My mind wraps around the ethereal force and directs it.
[Vessel Construction].
Mana slams into the outside of my vessel, but not with its usual rage. There is none of that hunger, that need in it. Every droplet is perfectly controlled. The motion is almost slow, and yet brutally forceful. Cracks spread through my vessel. Parts of my body shatter from the impact. Iron pools in my mouth.
[Vessel Construction 6 > 7]
I swallow, and focus. With incredible control, I withdraw the mana. I mend the cracks. I heal my injured vessel, and force it to expand. More and more of it is made from my repairs, from things that are under my control. It, too, bends to my will.
None of this is for the purpose of pain. This isn’t to make myself suffer. I don’t enjoy getting hurt. But I must be strong. Because when someone like Lars tries to touch me, I need to hold myself back. From killing them. The truth is, Opal saved his life.
Control. Breathing in and out. Another slow, horribly powerful slam into my core. The pain dulls and quiets as I [Suppress] it. Doing this for pain would defeat the purpose. I am in control.
The cracks mend. Then my vessel cracks again, then it mends again. Over and over. Efficiently, controlledly.
I breathe in. I breathe out. I swallow iron and I make the pain gentle on myself.
Slowly, I grow. Slowly, I improve. Kuro nestles against my leg, and I smile.
This, too, is doing myself a kindness.