Teaching people about magic was incredibly interesting. Even speaking to somebody of the same affinity but with different experiences revealed an entirely different approach, not only to the intuitive parts of elemental manipulation but even the relatively consistent Rune Masteries were individually different. Just like handwriting, only that the differences in form caused a slight difference in function and emphasis, altering the efficiency and power of different Runes. If two people used the same Mist-rune, one person might have an individual focus on concealment, the other on the widespread insidiousness of the mist, giving them somewhat different effects when used. I doubted the differences when comparing the same Rune would ever amount to much, but multiple small differences could eventually cause a larger one, especially when considering that not everyone used the same Rune-system as I had come to realise.

The Runes for my main affinities, Ice, Darkness and Blood, were fundamentally different in shape than the runes for my secondary affinities, those that I had only gained from observing my students. Similarly, all my students, even those using Ice or Blood Runes, knew that second style, though they could use the runes I knew after I taught my runes to them. It was fairly interesting, though I could see that using the runes I was used to came at a cost for them, the runes were a lot less efficient for them. I had a few ideas why that might be the case, though I wasn’t willing to invest too much time to investigate, I didn’t care enough for that. It was something I had noticed when working with my original students and even back then, I hadn’t cared.

Either way, talking with others about magic, as rudimentary as their understanding might be, was always interesting. Sadly, my lesson was cut short when the familiar face of Mark approached, looking both resigned and relieved at the same time. It was a fairly interesting expression on his face, one that made me wonder what was going on.

“Well met, Lady Morgana,” he greeted me, using that same, strange formula I had been greeted with multiple times already. Similarly, the title of Lady had somehow been attached to me, either as Lady Jade, Lady Morgana or, to my consternation, Pale Lady. That last one left me at a loss, making me wonder if it was the chicken or the egg. Had I gained the title from the system and the locals had, somehow, picked up on that or been subconsciously informed of it, or had the locals given me the title and the system made it official? I was tempted to ask about their use but wasn’t about to reveal my lack of knowledge.

“Good afternoon,” I returned the greeting, using what I was used to. “What brings you by? Are you interested in learning to use Magic, or will you continue hitting things with a stick, or whatever your style of combat was?” I asked, more interested to continue the lesson he had interrupted. But given that my students had immediately fallen silent when he made his way past them, the interruption was already there so dealing with him would hopefully clear it the quickest.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to wield magic,” he shrugged, “No, my path is the martial one, though I’ve been putting quite a bit of focus in the direction of leadership and tactics, helping those under my command. It’s interesting and multiple of the elders in our community have been able to give me a lot of guidance, they even found me annotated copies of The Art of War by Sun Tzu and On War by Clausewitz,” he shook his head, an amused grin on his face, “Heavy reading, but I’ve been making my way through the books. On War might eventually become my favourite blunt weapon.”

“I see,” I nodded, not quite sure what I was seeing. “Well, that still doesn’t answer my first question. What brings you by?” I repeated myself, not interested in small talk.

“Ah, yes,” he shook his head again, “Well, I was interested in those Withered creatures you mentioned multiple times now. What can you tell me about the threat they pose, what do you think should be done about them?” he asked, finally giving me a question I could answer.

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“The Withered, well, I don’t think they remain an active threat. Going by the information I have come across, they used to be a fungoid-based collective, maybe even an actual hive-mind, connected via a psychic link created by fungal filigree growing in their brains,” I explained, getting a lot of shivers from my audience and quite a few queasy looks. “Their primary colony was situated in a small park, surrounded by a few hundred of their husks, hunters and skulkers, alongside hundreds, maybe thousands, of basic Undead,” I continued, the queasy looks gaining a bit of fear at the numbers mentioned.

“Their Hunters were growing quite rapidly, especially because they had some odd sort of experience-share going on, I’m not certain how it worked but the more their Hunters, regardless of which Hunters, were fighting, the faster they levelled. They didn’t even have to win their fights, the Hunters could fight and die in battle and the next day, other Hunters had used the experience of their death to gain a level. At the same time, the primary collective gained experience as well, adding even more levels and increasing their power. By the end, the primary collective was beyond level sixty, parts of it reaching for level seventy,” I finished my explanation and now, I could see the fear clearly visible on their faces.

“But they’re not an active threat any longer?” Mark asked, sounding both relieved and disbelieving, his eyes fairly wide.

“Given that I learned their levels from the notifications I received as they died, no, they aren’t a threat any longer. The collective is, to the best of my knowledge, a thing of the past, the few remaining Withered no longer connected on that deep, instinctual level. They are just monsters, fairly powerful individually, but far less of a threat than they have been before. So, no, not really a threat to me, and not a serious threat to the Farm, unless they attack in large numbers. Which they likely won’t without said connection,” I told him, a little amused as I studied the way expressions changed all around me. Disbelief, fear, awe, it made me wonder what these people experienced, how their emotions shifted so rapidly.

“You… killed them?!” Mark couldn’t help but stutter a little, clearly taken aback. Apparently, nobody was really aware of my power but given that I did my very best to contain as much of my aura as possible, maybe that wasn’t a complete surprise. Thanks to the repeated gains from my Dragon’s Touched Trait, I had now, at level fifty-eight, almost the same Charisma as I had at level hundred-sixty on Mundus, meaning I had far greater control over my aura than I had there. Or, more likely, they lacked the experience to interpret the sensations they were getting, unless you knew the difference in intensity, you would only know that someone was more powerful than you, not necessarily how big the difference was.

Just as I was about to reply, my eyes snapped over to Luna, who had been playing with a few other children and the dogs we had brought with us. Now, she looked like she was about to cry, while the dogs looked like they were about to tear one of the older children to pieces.

Ignoring Mark, I walked over, feeling the heat of the sun start to scorch me as soon as I left the shadows. Instead of cloaking myself in shadows, I conjured a sparkling mist, keeping myself cool while warding off some of the sun’s harmful rays, without turning myself into a shadowy monster. Instead, I became a sparkling monster, hopefully a better alternative.

“Now, what’s going on here?” I asked, keeping my voice as pleasant as I could while my munchkin looked like she was about to cry.

None of the brats dared to answer, they had taken a few steps back when I approached. I could hear some noise behind me, from the gathered students, but it was Luna who spoke up.

“They said I have weird eyes,” she complained, retreating into the cool, sparkling mist around me.

“You have unique eyes, just like me and just like your sister Lia,” I assured her, using Overflow to make my own eyes glow brightly in the mist. “Now, little one, why don’t you come and sit in on the lesson, you’ll learn something, too,” I promised, not sure how else to deal with the brats without bodily harm. Children had never been my strong suit and my own experiences at school hadn’t been the most pleasant.

Thanks to some rudimentary survival trait, the brats didn’t speak and we made our way back to the group, noticing some quiet whispers when I sat back down, now with Luna on my lap.

“I will continue the lesson now,” I told them, completely ignoring Mark who as still looking at me with an odd expression on his face, “This is my daughter, I expect her to be treated with courtesy,” I added, before delving back into the lesson. It wasn’t a great start to the summer, but it was a start.