Magic Breaker Ch 193 - 195

Chapter 193: Impostor

Having a sword right through my stomach is one of the less pleasant sensations I’ve ever gone through. [Suppression] envelops me as I use it to manage the pain, and grit my teeth. My mind races as I think of what to do.

Vincent is fresh and I’ve just gone through a fight. Anna is right there - and while she might help, he could also use her as a hostage. But Vincent just twists the rapier some more, driving its point upwards, piercing more of my internal organs. Lovely.

“Snow,” he whispers gleefully, his lips twisted into a sadistic sneer. “Snow, Snow, Snow… you were so arrogant. So careless.” He moves me around with the tip of his blade, using it as a lever to press me against the wall. I feel his disgusting authority drink in my suffering and grow.

“And now, here you are,” he monologues. “At my mercy.”

He drives the sword deeper, the cut growing, and I let out a groan of pain. It sucks. I know no one is coming to help me. The others are fighting their own fights, now. All I can do is wait. 

Anna, foolishly, runs in. “Stop!” she screams, charging at Vincent, but he spins around and gives the girl a brutal kick to her midsection, making her fold in half. Right now, he’s too fast for her, too strong. After all, he gets stronger when he betrays someone. And, like the traitor he is, that’s just what he does.

Turning back to me, Vincent’s smile grows ecstatic. “Ah, Snow,” he breathes, laying a hand on my face, and I feel a shiver of discomfort roll down my back. “You were always so arrogant. So aloof. I wasn’t good enough for you, huh? You thought you were better than me, huh? Do you hate me now? Fear me now?” he asks, savouring the moment.

“Not particularly,” I reply, my voice a little strained given the internal injuries and the blood pouring out of my stab wound. His smile falters slightly as I speak, but I grit my teeth and talk some more. “Really, I could even forgive the stabbing. But putting your hand on my face is pretty gross. You’re a bit of a… ugh, fuck that hurts. A bit of a creep, I meant to say.”

Vincent’s smile falters some more, his lips slowly pulling into a frown. “You’re not scared,” he says.

“I am,” I reply. “If it makes you happy, I’m scared. I don’t want to die, and frankly, it’s not looking too good for me. So, you caught me. I’m terrified.” My voice is tight from pain, and I’m feeling a bit dizzy from the blood loss, but I live, for now. And so, unfortunately, all I manage is deadpan.

“You don’t sound afraid,” Vincent says, almost pouting.

“Sorry, I struggle to inject emotion into my speaking. Tone control takes a lot of effort and I’m kinda… preoccupied,” I gasp as the sword drives further, and I feel its edge brush up against my ribcage. Breathing is getting harder. The line through my body is looking rough. But I’ve not given up yet. Not ever.

At my words, Vincent smiles slightly. He brushes my cheek, asking, “So, how does it feel? Being betrayed like that? Forsaken, left to die, with no one to help you?”

“Pretty bad,” I reply honestly. His face falls. “Oh, sorry, was that a rhetorical question?”

The scumbag grimaces. “You’re miserable. I’m torturing you. Scream, you piece of shit,” he says, twisting the blade upwards. There is a very particular sensation to feeling it cut into my bone, and cut open one of my lungs. 

I draw in a pitiful, wheezing breath that sends further pain arcing through my body, and Vincent smiles. “Oops,” he says. “That must’ve been your lung. Can you still breathe, Snow? Or has your sass finally run away?”

Pitifully, I bring up a single hand, into his field of view, and sign something. He looks at it, furrowing his brow. “What?” he asks. “That… I feel like you’re saying something. But it’s not translating properly. What are you saying? Are you mocking me?”

Blood trickles from my mouth as I open it to take another ragged, horrible breath. Breathing with a stabbed through lung is probably the worst thing I’ve ever done. Each breath makes more of the sword’s bladed edge dig through my flesh. Vincent is so distracted by it, he doesn’t even notice the skills I cast.

[Selection] and, through it, [Obfuscation]. Despite everything, I keep my mana chained inside my body. My attunement loop is still active. And Anna is still in the room.

I watch as she gets up, pulls her knife, and stalks towards Vincent. All her calm has disappeared. There’s a desperate gleam to her eyes as she stalks forward. Slowly, quietly, each footfall made carefully to stay out of Vincent’s range.

Except, of course, Raven grabs her foot. They sneer as they move, still just barely escaping Sylves’ spell, but Anna stumbles. She stops, then turns around, staring at their hand. Raven says nothing, their voice dead, but the girl is stuck. Her stomps are pointless against the mob boss’ superior stats.

Then a banshee comes through the wall. 

Anna was able to avoid them on her way here, probably because I was attracting the ghosts like a beacon. The longer we wait, the more of them there’ll be. I feel it with [Observation], and cast [Suppression] on my own hearing - and Anna’s.

No Raven’s.

When the banshee’s wail tears through the air, Vincent flinches, and I experience the most horrid sensation of my life. He flinches forward, into me, and his sword tilts up, slicing half my back open. Much worse than that, his head leans against my chest, blood dripping onto my clothes from his nose.

“Don’t… fucking touch me,” I wheeze pitifully, the air barely in my lungs. 

Raven’s fingers unclench as the pain spikes through him. Anna’s foot unsticks itself, and she steps forward again. Vincent is still staggered, and she is cloaked by two stealth skills. I hear Raven humming, but over the banshee’s wail, it means nothing. 

Violently, in a single motion, the girl stabs a dagger into Vincent’s back.

He gasps, his own breath catching as he staggers forward, his entire body squished against mine in the worst experience of my life. Then, with my minute strength, I grab his face and push him back.

Staggering with the motion, distracted by the pain, his sword pulls out of me. The cold steel scraped against my bones one last time, and then, Anna trips him, and Vincent falls on his ass. Finally. Finally, I have my personal space again.

A quarter of my mana pool goes to healing. I activate the dozens of marks I formed inside my body, the preparations to fuck him up. My mana burns through me, my channels incinerated by the pulse of it, then instantly mended when the healing kicks in. My body writhes for a moment, and then my veins sear shut.

I’m not healed. In fact, I’m not even close to healed - but my bleeding stops. My lung is still collapsed, and I hack and wheeze, the breathing opening some wounds back up. The torrent of blood slows to a dribble, despite the visible hole through my chest. My stomach luckily closes before I stagger forward, falling to my knees, leaving its acid inside.

Anna instantly kneels next to me. “Are you okay, Snow?!” she asks, and I open my eyes in horror. Raising my arm, I point at Vincent, even as I fall on my face, into a pool of my own blood. Fuck, there’s so much. The floor is slick with it, and I can’t think.

Vincent staggers to his feet, then reaches for his back, and contemptuously pulls the dagger out, tossing it aside. He’s tougher than me - way tougher, and his authority is boiling now. The betrayal still empowers him, and I can see the way his blood pulses out slowly, rhythmically, flowing like honey rather than water.

And yet, he staggers to his feet. In a single swift, wheezing step, he lunges at Anna - and we can’t have that.

My attunement loop ceases. 

Mana pours free, and I see the banshee drink it up. Her scream redoubles, and Vincent staggers, but that wasn’t the point. Instead, I channel it all into [Suppression], driving the staggering man to the ground. He falls on his face, and it looks almost as pathetic as me, lying in a pool of my own blood.

I try to wheeze out something snarky, but really just end up gurgling blood and dirt and wheezing for air. As Vincent gets up again, I do the same, but Anna moves faster. She is over level fifty, after all. I see a mantle lay around her shoulders. It’s a thin, frail thing. A translucent sheen of silk.

Then she vanishes.

Even lying on the floor, with a hole through me, choking on my own blood, I manage to tilt my head and feel an urge of curiosity. I can’t feel her even with my [Observation]. She’s like a ghost in the wind. Another banshee enters the room and wails, and I [Deconstruct] them both before the moment ends.

[Level Up! 87 > 88]

I put the points into vessel. Reflexively, even now, I do it. More mana means I can heal myself - and I trust myself more than the tower. I do try to use a minor request to summon a healing tonic in my stomach, but it declines. Requests are disabled while in active combat. Frick.

My mind turns lucid again when I hear Vincent gasp-scream. Anna stands behind him, her dagger lodged in the back of his neck. Almost, at least. I skidded off his bone, to the side. Anna looks horrified at the blood coating her own hands, and Vincent reaches for her. He grabs her, and moves to slam her into the stone.

I [Suppress] him.

The throw turns into a pitiful thing, just making Anna fall, wrenching the dagger out of his neck. His eyes are bloodshot as he stands, his breathing ragged and broken. Anna lays on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, dizzy and confused. My mana is running on fumes, and I can feel myself fading.

But Perpetual Pursuit keeps me standing. It doesn’t help the pain. It doesn’t heal me. But I keep standing, I keep working, my mind still going through the motions. I scrape together my mana, and cast [Deconstruction] on Vincent’s leg. His shitty stance crumples in on itself as some of his bones fracture, his body more fragile from his wounds.

He lets out a ragged gasp, then his best, shitty attempt at a scream as he lunges at me. I try to stagger out of the way, but fail. He stabs me again, in the shoulder this time, leaving an ugly cut across my upper body. I groan in pain, then punch him in the face with a pitiful, bloody punch. He twists the knife, then Anna tackles him, and his injured leg buckles. She drives him to the floor, jerking the rapier through me again.

Screaming in furs, she punches him in the face, much harder than I ever could. His nose cracks, and Vincent groans. He wraps his hands around her throat and squeezes. Anna’s eyes widen in fear for a moment, and she punches him again, then again. Then, she reaches out her hand.

Her face goes pale. I take a breath, and it hurts horribly. Gathering my mana, I wring out what I still have, my regeneration like a flood. And a dagger appears in her hand. It’s shimmering, pale-blue, and sharp.

Vincent’s eyes widen. His fingers clench, but the force doesn’t work properly. They’re [Suppressed]. He scrambles for violence, but there’s none.

Anna stabs down. 

Vincent dies.

[Level Up! 88 > 90]

More points in vessel. For a moment, I stagger. Then I catch myself. I heal a bit more. Then I step towards Anna. I lay a hand on her shoulder. She flinches at the touch, and with her flinch, Vincent’s hands fall lifelessly to the ground. Looking at her windpipe, dented inwards, I smile faintly.

Then I heal her.

Anna’s eyes widen, tearing up, and she stares at me. “Snow, you- heal yourself you moron!” she cries. 

I smile. With slow steps, I walk over to Raven. Another banshee appears, but I soon take it apart. [Deconstruction] breaks it, feeding me more mana. I pull the rapier from my shoulder. My defiance relishes my survival of the betrayal. My efficiency keeps my body moving despite everything.

Raven lays on the ground in a pool of blood. They stare up at me, feathers gathering around them for a teleport - but I break it. The magic comes apart at the seams, their escape attempt foiled. Even now, they’re slow and pitiful. I pick up the mana-dagger Anna dropped, its edge chipped and disintegrating, then I look at Raven.

“It didn’t have to… be like this,” I say, my voice a wheeze. I still only have one lung to work with, after all. Real trouble, that. 

At that, the sumeen hums with dark amusement. “It didn’t, Yuki. But it did. Will you kill me?” 

I think for a long moment. Then, I tilt my head. “Will you still come after me if I don’t?”

Raven sneers. “Yes,” they say, and I feel the ragged remains of their authority hum in agreement. “I break if I don’t.”

Slowly, I look at them. “You’d pick death over your authority cracking?”

“Yes,” Raven replies.

Then I shrug. “Death you shall have.” The knife comes down.

[You have killed a lv. 150 Darkfeather Drifter]

[Level Up! 90 > 94]

I put the points in vessel. Then, I breathe, and turn to Anna. I smile faintly, tilting my head. “Need more healing?” I ask.

The girl stares at me with disbelief, then slowly shakes her head. I use my pitiful amount of mana to heal myself some more, and breathing finally gets a little less painful. I stand. Somehow, despite everything, I stand. Blood flows from me, everything hurts. My mouth tastes like iron. But I’m alive.

For a moment, I close my eyes and relish the moment. My life. Then, with a swift motion, I wipe my hand on my clothes, walk over to Anna, and ruffle her hair. It hurts my ruined shoulder, but I do it anyway. She stares at me with big, teary eyes. 

“Thanks, Anna,” I say, simply. “You did well.”

She stares, then breaks out into a small, shy smile, and gives me a hug. “You’re not gonna die,” she says, disbelieving. “You’re not gonna leave.”

The squeeze hurts, but I let her do it. It kind of overwrites my disgust at Vincent’s touch with a mild discomfort. So it’s almost nice. Almost. I ruffle her hair again. “Not dying ever. These guys are way too crappy to kill me.” It’s arrogant, but that’s okay. I let myself be arrogant. Then, gently, after half a minute, I peel her off me. “C’mon,” I say. “Let’s go get the others.”

Her eyes widen and she nods.

I can’t wait to see what my friends have to say about my current state. Just one little thing to do in the meantime.

Chapter 194: Secret Study

“You look like shit, Snow,” Opal supplies helpfully. My eyes drift over the rest of our group, and as the others all slowly nod, I smile brightly.

“I sure do!” I supply. Frankly, I am looking a lot better by now. During the walk, my mana regenerated quite a bit, and I used it to heal myself. Mostly. I still have two holes in my body. Turns out regenerating those is a lot trickier. I’m missing one of my lungs, which makes breathing troublesome. “You should see the other guys.”

“Guys?” Sylves asks, raising an eyebrow. “How many of them did you take?” 

“Two,” I reply. “Raven and Vincent.”

Inu frowns. “Vincent? He was in here?”

“The zoof we had with us, Bofoy. Was a disguise.” 

Slowly, the kind girl nods, then grimaces slightly. Her eyes trail over to Anna, who still looks a little bit traumatized by the whole ordeal. I suppose killing someone like that might be rough on her. Luckily, Inu will take care of that. Which makes it less of my problem.

Instead, I walk over to Sylves. “Hey. Got some replacement clothes for me?” I ask. 

“Why?” she asks in reply. 

I blink. Then I pull open my cloak a bit, and show off the fact that I am positively drenched in blood, and the stuff I’m wearing is ragged. 

“Ah,” she says. “That’ll do it.”

Then, slowly, I bring something out from my cloak. It’s a single feather that I hold out to her. “I brought this to trade,” I say. Sylves tilts her head. I infuse mana into the item, and Raven’s puffy feather-cloak expands again, feather appearing as if fanning out. Instantly, Sylves’ eyes go wide, and she snatches it from my hand.

Giggling maniacally, the faerie strokes the feather like a precious treasure. “Oh yes, wonderful. I can learn from this… Yes, that’s more than worth some clothing. I will make you the softest things you’ve ever worn, Snow, dearest.”

I smile brightly. Worth it. Then, I search for new clothes with Sylves for a while. In the meantime, I make sure that nothing happens to the two precious items I stole from Raven and Vincent. They’re something I need to play around with in the future.

- - -

Time passes easily as I heal the others. We use my old mana-core again to transfer mana between us. By now, I’ve upgraded it a few more times, but it can’t store nearly as much mana as my vessel can hold. Still, it’s plenty to empty the others out over a few transfers. Which means I get to stitch them back up.

“Everyone else is still alive,” Thatch tells me. “Our fights were mostly stalling. But without Raven, they’ll be affected by the Ire.”

“So will we,” I hum. “There’s just ten of us now, after all.”

Thatch nods quietly. “Troublesome,” he says. Another banshee appears, but I [Deconstruct] it. The castle feels a lot more quiet after everything we’ve just dealt with. Inu sits, brushing Anna’s back. No one else wants to fight - Coldscar and his group must’ve retreated. Dove was still alive, but also terrified of Sylves. She must’ve made a real impression.

Then, Inu flinches. “She’s here,” she whispers. And I realize that, apparently, getting back to the others took me a full twenty minutes. I suppose I was sprinting for most of the time I was running away from Raven, so it’s not too surprising. But it does mean we have to hurry.

With a small sigh, I bring my aching body to my feet. “Let’s go, then,” I say quietly. “Can’t be too far.”

“Actually,” Thatch cuts in, “there’s something I’d like to check out.”

Hm? Well, now he has my curiosity.

- - -

Thatch knocks on a stone wall. And, indeed, as he promised, it sounds hollow behind it. There’s no door to access it, though. Just something that’s perfectly sealed up. How interesting. If only we had Bay with us. Surely she could have blown it up. Tragically, as it is right now, I need to actually do the work and figure it out.

[Observation] hums to life and I kneel before the hollow part of the wall. There’s little lines of mana flowing through the stone, but it’s hidden. I shift my [Observation], condensing it down to pierce the hidden spell. It takes me a few tries, but eventually, I make it through. A little like twisting the dial on a microscope until the image sharpens. 

[Observation 23 > 24]

Tiny flows of mana line the inside of the stone. Little runes shaped for very specific purposes. One of them, for example, detects that I can see it and stabs a spike of solid mana through my hand.

I pull back my bloody appendage and take a bit more distance as I continue watching. Jean moves in to heal me and I let him, choosing to keep my attention on the inscriptions. There’s one about withdrawing focus that would make the thing attack me again, which might kill me. Scary.

Trailing my perception across the inscriptions, I search for some way to activate them. Where there might be a section of magic threads I can trigger to open the door. And I do find a promising one, quickly activating it. Then it hums to life, and I throw myself low to the ground.

Another mana-spike stabs where my head just was. I take a deep breath - as deep as my fucked up lung lets me - and sigh. Not that one, then.

Another five minutes pass, people behind me slowly getting tenser, but one by one, I find the traps, then deactivate them. [Annexion] helps me, as with every new configuration my archive of runes, and my intuition relating to them grows. It feeds me a bit of essence as I go through the door, and I can already tell that these will be useful for me making more traps in the future.

Eventually, I find the correct sequence, buried under multiple layers of false signatures, and trigger them in the right order. Three quick infusions of mana and it was finally done. In a swift but silent motion, the stone in front of me pulls inward, swinging on invisible hinges. It’s small, just enough to let us crouch through.

“Got it,” I whisper happily. Then, Inu volunteers to head in first. Which proves to be a good decision. After about three steps, there’s a trap. And I begin to feel like we could really use some kind of danger sense. Metal spikes scrape against Inu’s armor, and I see her body trying to crunch into itself.

After a moment, though, the spikes return into the wall again, and Inu gives a relieved breath. Despite that, she just gives me a confident smile. Which is nice, because I do worry, even though I try not to.

We walk, bit by bit, and three more traps trigger. The door behind us closes once everyone is in the tunnel, smooth stone sliding back into place. I breathe, and am once again reminded of the hole right through me. Even now, all my mana is busily getting used to redirect my blood vessels. 

Efficiency helps me work through it, though. My oxygen absorption seems to be more efficient, so I still feel alright, even though I should definitely be feeling winded at this point. After a few dozen steps in the narrow tunnel, it opens up into a simple stone-brick room - fully warded.

The walls are covered in dense runework. Sprawling lines of magic spiral out, condensing around nodes of mana-cores. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and in the middle of the room stands a desk, with a single book on top of it. A thick, dusty tome. There are more papers strewn about, partially covering the floor - most of which is a nice, soft rug, except for the trapdoor. 

Instantly, we swarm forwards. I check the inscriptions, roughly at first, and find that they seem to mostly be warding-related. Keeping mana in and out. It’s an air-gapped room. Completely sealed.

Which means no banshees can make their way here. “All safe,” I say raggedly, and one by one, everyone starts taking a look around. Once more, my eyes are drawn to that desk in the middle. My curiosity spikes. Now what could that be?

Chapter 195: Cursed Tome

I walk towards the book, the rug feeling soft underneath my feet. My cloak brushes against the carpet slightly, and Kuro hums. Avoiding the trapdoor, I step up to the desk, leaning over it.

The papers on it are mostly miscellaneous. A lot of them are tax-forms, ownership deeds, those kinds of things. Mundane. But despite that, I make sure to sift through all of them, never letting the tome leave the corner of my eyes. And eventually, I do find something useful.

Records of artefacts. It’s a list of things that the castle once held - magical items and how they function. I look at the sketches, dense images covering the sides of a few pages, runes magnified and scrawled down. All of which is committed to my magical memory.

And then, once I’ve sifted through all of them, I do something I’ve wanted to for a while - in a single, dramatic motion, I sweep the table, sending loose pages flying. They scatter through the air, then float to the ground with a satisfying woosh, and I smile at what’s left on the desk.

A tome. 

A proper, real, magical tome. It’s bound in an old, cracked cover, woven from pale green fabric, with metallically gleaming embroidery. Metal threads have been stitched into the surface, giving it gilded corners, and reinforcing it. In golden letters, there is something spelled out - but it’s no title. Even as I look, the words seem to shift and spiral.

The golden letters sprawl inwards, like a whirlpool, into the central mana-core. A large half-sphere that extends out from the cover by about a finger’s width. It’s a brilliant blue and hums with arcane energy, the inside of the crystal orb coated in a dense lattice of mana. There’s even a faint crackle as I reach out to it.

The golden threads extend to the side of the cover, where two large clasps hold the tome shut. They sound faintly strained, the metal creaking as if the thing wants to open. The gilded edges, despite being gold, show some signs of red rust, and the fabric near the central core is a little singed.

Inu leans over my shoulder. “That’s so cursed,” she says.

“Yeah, for sure,” I reply.

“Snow, please, I beg of you, wipe that smile of your face,” she says politely, and without any heat.

Carefully, I withdraw my hand from the book and bring it to my face, pressing a finger to trail my mouth. Indeed, it is curled upward. I look at the book. How scary. Then I turn to Inu, and open my mouth.

She interrupts me before I even get started, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. “You would simply not be corrupted by the cursed book, is that what you were gonna say?” she asks, wearing a small frown.

I press my lips into a thin, awkward expression. “Yeah,” I say. “Yep, that’s what I was gonna say.”

Inu rolls her eyes, then gestures at the study. “It’s a library, Snow. Surely you can at least read the books on the shelves first.”

“This one’s smut,” Opal provides helpfully.

“Not for me, pass it to Sylves,” I reply.

“Hey!” the fairy complains loudly. Despite that, she takes the book. 

Trey turns to Anna, asking in a quiet voice. “What’s smut?” 

The rogue girl just grimaces and tells him not to worry about it. Thatch smiles at their antics and browses some more of the shelves. I read a few of their spines, and most of the books seem to be mundane - but not all of them. There are definitely a few magical stories in there - and, behind the books, there are a few magical objects too.

Opal pulls out a particularly thick lexicon, then “ooh”s happily as they reach further into the shelf, drawing out a large ruby, swirling with power. It looks like there’s a fire captured inside it. But even when the rest of my party keeps picking apart the study, my eyes are drawn to the tome again.

My fingers trail the core, and I can feel it leeching my mana. 

I tilt my head. Inu stares. “Are you feeding it? You better not be feeding it, Snow,” she says.

Looking at the book, I don’t deign her words with a reply, and she sighs next to me, shaking her head. Then, she pulls her hair from her face. “Well, it’s fine,” she says. “If you mess up, we’ll simply cover for you.”

Having her seal of approval, I just smile a bit, and hold my finger over the core. It drinks a bit more of my mana, and then I pull away. The tome hums, like the beat of an insect’s wings. I tilt my head at it, watching the letters scrawl across its surface faster. Then, I shrug.

There’s one easy way to find out what it does.

With an easy, relaxed motion, I flick open the first of the two clasps. Instantly, the second one starts to strain, the metal humming in pain. I squish the book shut, then unlatch it. “Be patient, silly,” I chide the inanimate object. Isabelle looks at me as if I’ve gone insane, but, somewhat surprisingly, the book seems to listen.

It even waits for me to take my hand off before it slams open. The table shakes form the force of the impact, and the pages instantly lift, fluttering through the air. Faint images press into my mind. Images of… rain. And then I place a finger on the pages, stopping the scrawl.

“Stop beaming things into my head, you rascal,” I chide the book. Again, I get more looks as if I’m completely insane. But the images stop. Instead, what I see is a single page, ink-stained, the letters sprawling. They trail across the page in no coherent sense, going sideways, upwards, twisting in on themselves like labyrinthine whirlpools.

Interspersed between them are sketches. Nonsensical diagrams, drawings of waves, rocks, castles, towns, and much more. Lines that intersect, patterns- 

“I said to stop that.” A slight frown settles on my face, and I cast [Suppression]. Instantly, the whispers of the book silence, and it shrinks away.

Inu snickers quietly, looking at the pages. “Can you tell what they say?”

“Nope,” I shake my head. “But with the amount of essence it’s feeding me, I might soon.”

At that, the room quiets quite a bit. “Essence?” Inu asks.

“Oh, yep, definitely essence. I can feel it filter into my mantle.” Already, I can feel my archive growing. Each fluttering page being recorded. But the book wants to show me more, to be more.

“Your eyes are bleeding, Snow,” Inu notifies me.

I blink, and a drop of blood falls onto the page. Instantly, the book struggles harder, the droplet turning into ink, new words scrawling across the page. New letters forming, and I frown. “Stop that,” I say, and double down on [Suppression].

My blood stops creeping across the pages. Very slowly, I shake my head at it, then speak. “You’re a book. Let me read you, jeez.” And then, under Inu’s watchful eyes, I pick it up, flip to the first page, and hold it there. The cover struggles a little, wanting to be free, but despite that, I read. And, once I’m a few lines in, a notification appears.

[You have found a Treasure-Tome.]

[Uldeney the Librarian watches with interest.]

“Oh, hey, I got a notification calling it a Treasure-Tome,” I say to the others. “That means it can’t be that bad, right?” 

Sylves giggles loudly. “You’re so getting cursed, Snow. Will I get Kuro if you die?” 

“Clearly, I will,” Thatch says. “Snow thinks I’m the handsomest.”

I shrug, eyes still on the page. “He’s got a point.”

Gasping in outrage, Sylves spins through the air towards me. “Excuse you? I am the fairest fairy in all the lands!” 

“Also true,” I nod with a shrug. “Thatch’s more handsome though.”

“Well, I don’t want to be handsome!” 

“Then it seems you have both achieved your goals, congratulations.” At my comment, both of them roll their eyes, and I, pleased at how I wormed my way out of that social disaster, instead return to my reading. The treasure-tome, as it turns out, isn’t really alive. And it does contain essence, and the mind-thing is just the quickest way to get that to me.

It’s also not very satisfying. It feels like getting disjointed puzzle pieces. There is a… I hesitate to call it a skill, but a technique in the book. And I want it, but I don’t want to piece it together from whatever disjointed bits I’m fed automatically. No, I’ll make the cursed book let me study it. Page. By. Page.

The book almost seems to shiver in my hands. 

- - -

About half an hour later, I can feel the Ire tightening around us. In fact, it’s becoming cloying and tight. The monolith is clearly unhappy with us being a team of ten - especially for so long. It goes against its rules, and so, slowly, the punishment ramps up. 

By now, for example, the runes around the walls start failing. There’s a slim crack at first. Mana leaks in and out, and I can feel the banshees creeping in. Those aren’t a problem - but I really, really don’t want Delfine to find us in this cramped room.

So we speed up. Every book that sounds interesting? Bagged. We ransack the shelves behind the books, we find another secret compartment in the wall with a few items, and take all of them. Within five minutes, we’ve mostly cleaned out the room. Then, when the runes begin to fizzle out, I commit them to memory, and pull open the trapdoor. A portal awaits me beneath.

I jump down.

[You have found a hidden exit. Your next floor will be a special one.]

[Good luck, Ion.]