“What the hell am I doing?” Levin thought to himself.
Levin sat behind Kirima, nervously passing his backup vial of ink between his fingers as they rode down the mountain. The twin moons of this planet would normally provide enough light to see, but a thick layer of clouds had turned the night pitch black. Levin relied on his Y-Link and Cho to see through the darkness, but he and Kirima made slow time without a proper light source.
“This is a horrible idea. Especially doing it this impulsively, with this little preparation.”
Through Cho, Levin could see a cliff coming up where the ground suddenly dropped away. Academy records indicated it had been hewn from the mountain by Lords Panai and Hann even before Inuvik’s founding. This was a place critical to the Academy – the output produced by this one mine made up a non-trivial amount of the magical output for all of Trurok. It was the only reason they could field a force of mages over twice the size of any other organization in Trurok, including the Lightning Corp.
“In the best case, I’m going to get kicked out of the Academy and have to hide with Mei. In the worst case, I’m going to die. And even if we succeed, this won’t help my goals at all. Why am I doing this?”
“We’re here,” Kirima whispered quietly, demounting. Levin followed suit.
There was an edge to her voice, something Levin had never heard before. Focus and determination. Passion. But more than anything, there was a power – something new awakening in the girl before him. Even in the darkness, he could see the fire in her eyes.
“If the people down there call for reinforcements, how long will it take a Wisp rank to arrive? Why are we attacking when we haven’t even figured out something so basic?”
From the top of the cliff, Levin and Kirima began to sneak down on foot, leaving Nini behind. The quarry was a deep pit in the ground, and the only two acolytes out in the night were surely too far to spot them. They stood idly next to a pile of rocks and minerals waiting to be shipped out.
“The guard force is light because they have two sets of rune arrays protecting this place, right? So even if we do manage to beat all these acolytes, will we really be able to get away with this? What if the central rune array has a security footage function?”
According to Kirima, the Academy had a slave rune array capable of perfectly controlling the slaves. In addition, the central rune array was there to deal with intruders – with the two together, even this light guard force seemed unnecessary. Levin figured their purpose could only be to deter greedy acolytes from getting any funny ideas.
“Does Kirima realize how dangerous this is? Does she even understand the risks?”
The two of them cut around the side of the quarry, sticking to the ridgeline. At parts they had to slide down the steep slope, taking care to kick up as little dust and make as little noise as possible. Maintaining silence, they soon reached the base of Mount Inuvik, finding a carved path of stone that snaked down into the quarry below.
“Do either of us even have experience in a fight? I certainly don’t. What if I underestimated how strong these acolytes are? Mages’ common knowledge says that acolytes aren’t capable of lethal magic… but even a weak blow can kill if it lands just right.”
Levin followed Kirima down into the quarry. They were close enough now for Levin to make out the plain robes on the two guards with his own eyes. They wore the standard uniform given to Inuvik Academy acolytes, the dull gray blending against the stone beneath far better than the deep crimson worn by Wisp ranks. They chatted obliviously, completely unaware of Kirima and Levin.
“We’ve never even practiced with any of the runes I made tonight. Do I even know how to aim this magic properly? Does Kirima? What if the runes don’t even activate?”
Kirima crouched at the tip of one of the switchbacks going down. Levin paused next to her. Just a little further, and they would be at the floor of the quarry. Kirima gestured with her head towards the two acolytes before fixing a stare on Levin. He couldn’t see her expression, not beneath the cloth they had wrapped their faces in, but her eyes held not a hint of hesitation. Levin nodded. Kirima’s head bobbed sharply in response, and she turned her eyes back on the guards.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Jet Cannon.”
Kirima lifted her arm and spoke quietly under her breath. Her arm glowed blue, and a moment later a bolt of water shot out from the rune, whistling through the air towards the guard on the left.
Her aim was perfect. The heavy blast of water struck the man right in the head, and he crumpled to the ground wordlessly. His companion spun, shocked, searching in the night for the source.
“Levin, you idiot! You absolute imbecile!” Levin roared in his mind. “Kirima even checked that I was ready first! What the hell am I doing? Focus!”
The alarm was about to be raised. Kirima had obviously expected Levin would attack at the same time as her. Already, things weren’t going smoothly, but a rush of adrenaline washed away all of Levin’s distracting doubts. On his upper arm, hidden beneath his robes, one of his three control runes lit up.
In the air high above them, a vibrant green suddenly sprang to life, striking against the blackened night sky. Cho became bathed in wind-element Force, the rune adorning its belly and wings outputting its full power. A moment later, and the green light became a streak across the sky, a brilliant trail left behind as Cho tucked its wings and dove for the ground at full speed.
The rune, known as Tailwind, engraved from an ink called Ethereal Breeze, was basic even for an acolyte-level rune. But weak though it may be in terms of raw power, Tailwind was a minority in the world of magic as a spell that didn’t just toss an orb of raw energy at an opponent. Instead, Tailwind used its Force to grant pure speed.
It was simple, yet it turned Cho from a mere scouting tool into meteor streaking down with unbelievable force. Levin’s bird was already fast, and with Tailwind, it could reach a level that would shock even Earth scientists. Even with the delay from Levin’s critical lack of focus, Cho swooped down and collided head-on with the remaining mage, bringing him down before he could cry out.
Levin’s heart pounded furiously in his chest, and he tightly squeezed his trembling hands. Next to him, Kirima looked calm and collected beneath her mask as she waved them forward towards the squat mage’s tower within the quarry. Cho climbed back into the air, the green glow fading as Levin deactivated the rune.
“How is Kirima so calm? She only has one Jet Cannon and her own magic. I’m the one with a giant robotic bird, multiple runes, and Chaos magic. Not to mention this ink,” Levin thought, double checking that his backup ink was still snuggly in its pocket. “Why am I the scared one?”
“No, focus. I can’t let myself be distracted again.”
Kirima reached the single thick wooden door set at the base of the tower. She cracked it open, peeking inside. A moment after, she threw it wide, and Levin was greeted with an empty floor. They both stepped inside, followed by Cho who settled on the ground near the entrance.
A bar filled with various drinks and cups scattered about haphazardly filled up a large portion of the room, with a table, chairs, and several board games occupying the other. Levin and Kirima moved past them and began to climb the stairs in the back slowly, peeking up onto the second floor.
This floor featured a short hall down the middle with several small rooms, all closed except for one. The one that was open revealed the meager innards of a bed and small nightstand, and Levin suspected the same scene was behind each door.
“We should check each one,” Levin said softly, and he and Kirima creeped up to separate doors.
They each gently opened the doors at the same time, revealing their interior. Kirima’s room was empty, but Levin found another acolyte sleeping on the bed in his room. He snored, undisturbed by Levin’s entrance. So, with ample time and the goal of preserving their spells, Levin summoned Cho up from the first floor and delivered a solid blow to the acolyte’s head.
Four more rooms remained unopened, and Levin and Kirima moved wordlessly to the next pair of doors. This time it was Kirima’s turn to reveal a sleeping mage, which Cho dealt with swiftly, while Levin stared into an empty lavatory. Creaking open the last two doors, they both breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing them void of inhabitants.
“Five bedrooms, two guards inside, two guards outside. So there’s probably one left upstairs,” Levin whispered to Kirima, who nodded in understanding.
“The slave rune array should be upstairs, too,” Kirima said.
They began to climb the next set of stairs with abundant caution. Keeping low to the ground, Levin poked his head up to get a view of the third and highest floor.
“Slingshot Blow!”
An already-alert acolyte had been watching the stairs, and attacked at first sight, punching out with his right arm to launch a head-sized rock directly at Levin’s face. Levin barely ducked out of the way of the attack, but the stone collided with the wall next to him and shattered, pummeling Levin with a wave of shrapnel. Losing his balance, he tumbled down backwards, several small puncture wounds leaving blood stains behind on the stairs.
“Levin!” Kirima cried out, racing down after him.
“Rock Slide!”
The acolyte didn’t let up, and an avalanche of stone hurtled down the stairs after them.
“Whistling Wind!”
Levin called out the chant for the rune he had engraved upon himself, sending a speeding blast of magical air past Kirima to intercept the rocks. His rune was at the acolyte-level, and his opponent was an acolyte – the two spells should have been roughly equal in power, so they would cancel each other out.
But instead, to Levin’s shock, the Force-made stone pierced straight through, only weakened and slowed while Levin’s magic collapsed to nothing. But the brief collision bought enough time for Kirima to race down and grab the collapsed Levin, flinging them both into one of the second floor rooms.
They paused for a moment, catching their breath together inside the small room.
“You can’t hide!” came an angered cry, accompanied by stomping footsteps echoing throughout the tower.
“We need to attack together,” Kirima whispered, huddling together with Levin.
Levin nodded in affirmation, and kept Cho hidden below on the first floor. They listened carefully as the acolyte descended the flight of stairs, each dull thud of his steps giving Levin a surge of anxiety. How had his magic been so much more powerful than expected?
Levin opened his Y-Link. In a moment, a full replay of the brief encounter flashed through his mind, and Levin closely examined the acolyte. Without the threat of bullet-like projectiles on him, he immediately saw the problem.
The Force Distribution System. Pilip had used it to clear away excess ink, letting the energy be absorbed into the central rune array. And now Levin understood what all that extra Force was for, as he looked at the image of their opponent wrapped in purple runic lines that hovered in midair around him. He was drawing extra power from the central rune away, using it to empower his magic.
The footsteps stopped on the second floor. Everything felt still as Levin and Kirima prepared themselves, Levin’s face marked with equal amounts of sweat and blood. With a small nod to each other, Levin and Kirima swung the door open in tandem.
“Hurtling Droplets; Raindrop Bomb!” “Whistling Wind!”
They both launched their attacks simultaneously, Levin using up his final arm rune as Kirima channeled her own Force in a desperate surprise attack. Water and wind whistled out simultaneously, a rush of energy filling the small dwelling.
But the acolyte was ready. He immediately formed a hand sign, and the lines of Inuvik’s central rune array around him shifted. They grew denser and more solid, like a physical object, as the lines changed and rune switched from wrapping around him like a cloak to hovering out in front, directly in the path of Levin and Kirima’s attack.
The water and wind magic crashed impotently against the floating rune, unable to pierce through to the mage. Even without using a spell, the acolyte seemed untouchable. He laughed aloud, switching his hand sign as the wind and water vanished before him, and the central rune changed from a defensive barrier back to the Force-supplying cloak.
“Gaia’s Fury!”
This time, Levin could see the surge of Force from the central rune array, characterized by a sharp increase in the brightness of the floating runic lines. The acolyte thrust forward with both arms, sending waves of rocky shrapnel, ranging in size from mere pebbles to fists of rock, hurtling towards Levin and Kirima. With the additional Force being supplied, this acolyte’s magic was probably at the level of a Wisp rank – strong enough that even a glancing blow could kill.
There was only one thing Levin could do. Fighting his fear, he extended his right arm directly into the attack.
“Wave!”
Just before the first of the hurtling rocky bullets reached them, Levin shot out waves of red-black Chaotic energy. The short range of his Chaos attack was barely enough to reach through the entire spread of shrapnel and hit the acolyte standing near the stairs. But the short range also gave Levin little time to react, and a few of the stones slipped by before Wave launched.
They smashed into his chest and outstretched arm, decorating Levin with more gashes as Kirima ducked to the side. The largest of the bunch that Levin missed struck him straight on the arm, and the sharp cracking noise of breaking bone rang out.
But Levin had at least managed to trade blows. His wave of Chaos washed over their opponent, and the acolyte’s face blanched as he stumbled backward. However, another phenomenon at that moment seized Levin’s attention even more than his broken arm – the collapse of the central rune array.
At least, its projection onto the acolyte collapsed. The runic power strengthening and guarding him was stripped away, peeled back by the all-destroying power of Chaos. Levin felt no pain as adrenaline sharpened his focus, a green control rune lighting up on his hand.
As their opponent reeled, Cho came screaming out from a room behind them, wings awash in wind energy, hurtling straight towards the acolyte. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates as he scrambled backwards.
“Earthen Guard!”
The chant for a spell came out, but it was not joined by the usual surge of energy. Levin wasn’t sure if his Chaos had continued to disrupt the acolyte’s Force, or if he simply hadn’t had the time to properly form the spell, but either way the result was the same. In an instant Cho was upon him and then past him, metallic talons holding onto most of the acolyte’s throat as the bird’s momentum carried it upstairs.
A bloody gurgling noise marked his final words as their opponent collapsed to the ground.
“You…killed him?” Kirima said incredulously, gasping for breath after nearly dying twice.
“I had to,” Levin responded. “I used my Chaos magic. They would know it's me.”
“Right. Right,” Kirima said, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. “You’re right. It had to be done. It’s for the good of everyone else.”
Levin could tell she was in shock at the sudden turn of events, but wasn’t sure if his killing or her near death was worse for her mental state. Hopefully she could stay focused until the job was done.
“The tower is clear now, and that’s all the guards taken care of. Take Cho and get the slaves, and I’ll destroy the slave rune array,” he said.
“Yes. Yes, okay. Come on Cho, let’s go find where the slaves are,” she said, slowly peeling herself off the wall and heading downstairs.
As she headed towards the entrance of the mines where the slaves’ housing was assumed to be, Levin ascended to the third floor once more.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
A dark black rune covered the majority of this floor, one that Levin had not yet recorded in his Y-Link. He remedied that, and then raised his hand.
“Wave.”
Levin sent out a burst of chaos magic from his left hand, which washed over the rune array. Just like the projection from the central rune array, the chaos magic obliterated the Force in its path, disintegrating the rune where it passed. It took a few more blasts of Chaos, but the rune array had soon disappeared without a trace. Satisfied with his work, Levin turned to leave.
Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion hit him. The punctures and scrapes on his body bled freely, though none were too deep. His broken right arm screamed in pain, and Levin clutched it tightly in his left as he sank to the floor, curling up on the balls of his feet.
But Levin grit his teeth, fought back the pain, and stood up. He couldn’t afford to dally here. Trying to jostle his arm as little as possible, Levin headed out.
He waited for Kirima at the entrance to the mines, and a few minutes later, she came out. Following behind her was a tired, confused, yet clearly hopeful group that followed behind her out of the mines.
“We’ll make sure that all of you make it out of here safely!” Kirima called out to the group.
These people had to be thoroughly exhausted from untold days, weeks, months, or even years of hard labor, but those words energized the group. They quickly followed behind Levin and Kirima up the rocky slopes out of the quarry, shuffling around the switchbacks in the dark.
“We really did it,” Levin thought as he looked out at the group.
His arm still burned with pain, but that thought took the edge off. Then, with a jolt, he remembered the vial of ink he had put in his pocket earlier. He frantically felt for it, and was relieved to find it undamaged after the intense struggle.
“I should have fixed my arm with this while Kirima was gathering the slaves,” he thought to himself.
Of the few ink recipes he had succeeded at in the past two weeks, this was the one Levin had thought would eventually be the most useful – a healing ink. A weak one, of course, and likely not enough to fully fix Levin’s arm. But as he tenderly felt his right arm, it seemed the break was fortunately clean. If the bone had been shattered, no amount of acolyte-level healing ink would fix it.
The pain in Levin’s arm begged him to stop, engrave the rune, and heal himself. But now wasn’t the time. The crowd of freed slaves was moving upwards, albeit slowly, and they needed to get out of here. Until they were out of the central rune array, they couldn’t afford to stop for even a second. It was possible, maybe even likely, that mages or more acolytes were heading their way.
Levin and Kirima stepped up to the upper lip of the quarry, facing out towards the wild forest and mountain behind the Academy. Before them was a road, one that circled around the base of Mount Inuvik and joined with the main road, giving an easy route for the transport of resources to and from the mines.
There was a person standing in the road.
“Going somewhere?”
Levin froze. The worst case was happening. Maybe he should have healed his arm after all, because at the top of the quarry, blocking their path out to safety and freedom, stood another mage. His arms were folded over his chest as he glared down at the people gathered before him, his silhouetted face eliciting cries of fear from the slaves at the front.
“Master Amaq!” Kirima hissed under her breath.
“I know it’s you under that mask, Kirima. You should have tried harder to hide your hair,” Amaq said. The anger in his voice, opposite his calm words, sent a chill down Levin’s spine.
Kirima reached up to her face, where several locks of vibrant blue hair had tumbled out from her wrapped head. They had taken care to hide it, but the disguise must have come loose in their struggle.
“How did you know?” she asked.
Amaq laughed loudly before responding. “You really are a fool. I got a transmission from a guard down here. An earth-element acolyte. I don’t suppose you know what happened to him?”
“Fuck.” Levin had completely forgotten about transmission tablets, the tools mages used to instantly communicate over long distances. They should have fled the moment they were discovered by that acolyte.
“No…!” Kirima trailed off, and Levin could clearly hear the fear in her trembling voice.
“Indeed, you weren’t thinking. I’m surprised a daughter of the Chensu Clan would be so naive as to the ways of mages, that you would try a stunt like this,” he said calmly.
“I’m no stranger to the ways of mages! That’s exactly why I had to do this!” Kirima shouted back.
“Hmph. You’re nothing but a runaway servant girl, her head full of ridiculous ambition. And who is your friend here? Another foolish acolyte, or perhaps a warrior who thinks himself on the side of justice?” Amaq asked. Fortunately, little about Levin’s appearance was remarkable even without the disguise.
Levin stayed quiet. He didn’t want to let Amaq hear his voice, or he would never be able to return to the Academy. Even now Levin thought he could sneak back in – as long as he got Kirima to safety first.
“And what’s this bird of yours? Amaq said, looking up at Cho circling silently above.
Levin’s confidence plummeted at these words, knowing that any element of surprise he had was now gone. All they had left was acolyte-tier attacks, but those hadn’t even been effective against an acolyte. They would certainly be worthless against Amaq.
Wave was the only tool Levin had that would be truly effective against a Wisp rank, but at this range his Chaos magic would not even reach Amaq. With Cho, maybe there was a chance to close the distance, especially if he could distract Amaq with the runes on its body. But his arm was broken, and Kirima was completely defenseless. Could they win?
“No,” Levin decided. “We can’t.”
“Whitecap!”
Amaq made the first move, summoning a stream of water beneath his feet, which gathered into a crashing wave as it hurtled down towards Levin and Kirima.
A bright light appeared on Levin’s upper arm, blazing red. The corresponding rune engraved upon Cho glowed in response, and several bursts of flame erupted from Cho’s metallic beak, painting multiple orange lines across the sky as they hurtled down towards the incoming wave.
Phoenix Flame, a fire-element rune and the strongest acolyte-tier magic money could buy.
The fire and water collided in a loud explosion, but Amaq’s magic easily overpowered Levin’s and pushed through. There was no advantage afforded to Amaq by using water against fire magic – the only thing that mattered in a collision of spells was the amount of Force, and Amaq had far more. He didn’t even draw extra Force from the central rune array, such was the power of the Wisp rank.
In the face of the destructive waves, Kirima, Levin, and the slaves all scattered away, back into the quarry. His spell had been aimed to prevent escape more than to cause damage, but the shockwave from the collision of magic washed over them all. Several of the slaves, weakened from their torturous toil, called out in pain as they collapsed.
But Levin had known it would be futile to collide their magic together. Guided by his control, a single one of the fireballs created by Phoenix Flame split off, circling around Amaq’s waves and towards the mage himself. He had hoped Amaq wouldn’t see it, but there was little chance of a blazing ball of light going unnoticed on this dark night. Amaq raised his arm and formed a hand seal, summoning a defensive shield from the central rune array that blocked the lone fireball with ease. If only they had made it out of the central rune array’s range before being found.
“We need to run!” Levin shouted, grabbing Kirima by the waist with his remaining good arm and leaping off the stone path down into the quarry below.
Cho swooped down as he did, wings aglow in green light as the red completely disappeared – Levin had fully exhausted the rune with that one attack. The two landed onto the back of the metal bird, which quickly climbed back up into the air thanks to the power of Tailwind.
“No! We can’t leave them!” Kirima cried out, turning to look back at the slaves who were rapidly fleeing back into their own prison.
“They’ll be fine! Dead slaves aren’t any use! But we’re a different story!” Levin shouted out, holding on tightly to Kirima and forcing her to flee alongside him on Cho’s back.
Amaq had momentarily lost sight of them when Levin leaped down, but Cho’s glowing green wings painted a clear target against the night sky. Glancing back, Levin saw him looking at them, standing stock still, the telltale look of a mage deeply concentrating on a spell.
Levin braced himself. This next one would be big. Amaq formed a sphere with his hands, which trembled slightly as his Force poured out.
“Rain Like Arrows; Apocalypse Storm!”
Throwing his arms wide, Amaq released countless bolts of water that streaked through the sky towards the fleeing bird.
Levin and Kirima watched in dismay as the water filled the sky around them. In front, behind, above, and below, the water launched by Amaq raced forward to fully surround them in a hollow sphere made of countless water droplets, each charged with deadly Wisp rank energy.
Pulling his arms back together, Amaq initiated his attack. As he did, the water surrounding Levin and Kirima suddenly curved towards them, rapidly changing direction midair to launch an assault from all directions.
There was too much, from too many directions, for Wave to be of any use. It wouldn’t even be large enough to punch a hole Cho could fly through. But Levin didn’t panic, yet. He still had one ace up his sleeve.
Levin engaged his Y-Link. Normally, he had to be careful about how much he interfered in his natural brain functions, but there was no room to hold back now. This was a time to defy his limits.
Levin swept his head around, his eyes darting from angle to angle faster than the human mind could keep up. The visual data from his eyes was plucked out by his Y-Link, sent to the quantum supercomputer running down his spine. In an instant, the trajectory of every single water bullet around them was calculated.
Levin inserted the simulated data back into his mind, letting him see visually the paths that each of the thousands of attacks would take. He clearly saw zones of extreme danger and relative safety, and knew exactly when and where they would be struck by each bullet. He could even see the attacks coming from behind.
Pulling Kirima down, he forced them both to lay prone to reduce their profile as he controlled Cho’s wings and his wind-element flight runes to perform extreme evasive maneuvers. They were getting out of here.
His head was instantly pounding with pain, and not just because his broken arm was getting shaken up like a box of toy bricks. If he kept this up, he would give himself permanent brain damage, his neurons zapped to the point of breaking. But if he didn’t, both he and Kirima would die.
Levin couldn’t avoid every shot, but each individual water arrow was small, and would only kill if it struck vitals. Using Cho as a shield, he weaved through the rain of water, dodging as many as he could while using Cho’s underbelly and wings to absorb those he couldn’t. Despite this, the attack was simply too numerous. A stinging pain in his leg registered briefly to Levin’s overwhelmed mind – his Y-Link could process all the trajectories, but his human mind just couldn’t keep up.
Seconds felt like minutes to Levin, but they soon broke away from the storm of water magic, leaving Amaq and the quarry far behind. They had climbed high into the air during the escape, nearly halfway up the mountain. Behind, the quarry, the slaves, and Amaq had all become nothing more than specks in the distance as the last bits of water shrapnel rained over his shoulder.
Levin brought them down into the forest, disengaging his Y-Link. He was breathing heavily, and the aftereffects of such intense processing was dulling his senses, especially his eyesight. But as they touched down, he felt them returning to normal. That brief usage, even extreme as it was, shouldn’t leave any permanent effects.
“We made it!” he gasped.
“Levin… I…” Kirima’s voice reached Levin’s ears, and he immediately knew something was wrong.
Lifting up the arm that had held her down, Levin turned to look at her. The moonlight illuminated the bright red that was rapidly spreading through her robes. Kirima’s breathing grew weak, and he could see her eyes fluttering as her consciousness began to slip.
“No, no… Kirima, hold on, you’re gonna be fine,” Levin said as Cho gently lowered her down onto the ground.
Ripping apart her robes, Levin took a look at the wound, and his heart immediately sank. She had been struck directly in the back with one of the water arrows, which had ripped all the way through her gut and exited out the stomach. Levin removed his own robes to wrap her wound tightly, hands shaking as that horrible, familiar feeling of true panic set in, for the first time since Andrew’s death.
But this time, Levin was not useless. He had been helpless to save Andrew, but now Levin was a runesmith.
“Just hold on, Kirima, I can make a healing rune,” Levin said, retrieving the ink he had stored in his clothes.
“Thank the stars in every night sky that I didn’t waste this on my arm,” Levin thought to himself.
He felt around for his engraving tool, but couldn’t find it. “Stupid! I didn’t bring it!” How could he have made such a simple, critical oversight? He had grabbed the ink, and left his engraving tool sitting right on his table!
His finger would have to do. He had the ink – all he needed was the shape. Levin began dragging his index finger through the dirt, working quickly and frantically. He had to be perfect. His finger left trails too wide to be properly filled by one small vial of ink, but if he carved the shape out just right, it would settle into the bottom of the trough in just the right shape. But any deviation, any minor mistake, and the ink would simply sink into the dirt. And Kirima would die.
Levin’s finger was soon raw and bloodied, but he continued to push it through the dirt, using his Y-Link to maintain precision as layers of skin were scraped away. The cuts on his face and chest stung in the cool night air, his broken right arm continued to throb and send out waves of pain, and a wet hole in his leg leaked oodles of blood onto the ground. But compared to that, compared to Kirima’s imminent death, even scraping his finger down to the bone would be nothing.
It felt like it took an eternity for Levin to finish, made worse by the steadily-weakening breathing of Kirima. But finish he did, and after checking his work with his Y-Link, Levin wasted no time pouring the precious life-giving ink in. It flowed through like water in a canal, completing the rune that Levin had engraved around Kirima’s limp body.
Levin dipped his finger into the ink, preparing to make the control rune with his nail. With his right arm mangled and hurting, he instead scratched it into his uninjured thigh, the improper tool drawing blood as Levin dug into his skin, leaving no room for error. Blood mixed with ink as the rune activated and healing energy finally flowed into Kirima’s body.
Kirima’s eyelids fluttered for a moment before she managed to open her eyes, looking up at Levin’s concerned expression.
“What… what about… all of them?” she asked weakly.
“Of course she’s still more concerned about others,” Levin thought, tears welling in his eyes.
“We… we couldn’t free them. But I promise Kirima, I’ll make sure every single person imprisoned in those mines gets out. So just hang on! Survive so they can thank you!” he said, desperation tinging his voice.
“I… believe you. You’re a… good person, Levin. Don’t… don’t let that change,” she gasped out as her wounds slowly stitched closed.
But the acolyte-level healing rune was quickly losing power.
“Kirima, don’t speak, just hang on. I’m healing you now, you’re going to be fine. We’ll free them together!” Levin said as the tears began to flow freely.
His power was insufficient, and the damage too severe. The rune was barely enough to fix the external damage. Despite his best efforts, Kirima’s life was fading, and he couldn’t reverse it.
A sudden rustling from the brush near them startled Levin, and he leapt to his feet, ready to defend Kirima as long as she held onto life. But it was no man who emerged from the trees, but a horse, black as night.
Levin stepped aside as Nini walked up, gently nuzzling Kirima’s unmoving body before letting out a soft whinny. Kirima reacted, her hand twitching in the direction of the horse. She didn’t even have the strength to pet her companion one last time.
Levin gently picked her hand up, rubbing it along Nini’s lowered snout. A small smile decorated Kirima’s lips. Levin wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her up to the horse.
Then her pulse stopped.
Levin leaned into the horse’s mane, quietly crying as they both watched the last ebb of life fade from Kirima’s body. With no target left to channel the energy into, Levin’s hastily carved rune went dark of its own accord, a tiny amount of healing power left unused.
Levin removed the medallion that hung around her neck, marked with the Chensu family sigil of two intertwining streams of water. He carefully stowed it, then he picked her up, allowing Nini to investigate the body one last time before fully wrapping Kirima using both of their bloodied robes. Placing her on top of the horse, Levin began leading them away, walking somberly up the mountain, tears dripping into the dirt where he passed.
He wasn’t even sure how much time was going by anymore, only able to keep his destination in mind. They had coincidentally landed near it after the flight on Cho’s back, which was fortunate as Levin’s untreated wounds continued to sap at his strength. But he was able to make the trek, and the trees parted before them to reveal a gently flowing mountain spring.
Cho swooped down out of the sky to land before them at the edge of the spring, and Levin was reminded of all the times he had seen Kirima coming out here alone, diligently training and caring for Nini. She was one of the kindest people he had ever met, and he had come to Levin in his most difficult time. When he was alone and desperate, lost in a new dimension, it had been this girl that had helped him along. Levin felt like he had known her all his life.
Cho bent down towards the ground at the water’s edge. The sturdy metal wings tore through the ground at Levin’s command, digging out a long, deep hole that would mark Kirima’s final resting point. The robot made quick work, and as Levin gently lowered her into the ground, he found the thought of life at Inuvik Academy without her completely unbearable.
Earth had been a lonely existence for him, surrounded more by machine than man. Andrew had been his only real friend, but the rogue’s activities meant he hadn’t been around much. The time spent with Kirima had been a new experience for him, one of true, sustained friendship. Her gentle and undiscriminating kindness had saved Levin repeatedly, and it was not something he would easily forget. Neither was her death something he could forgive.
Levin crouched down next to Kirima’s grave as Cho began to shovel dirt back into the ground. He held his head in his hands, tears flowing between his fingers. He felt the same as he had at that time, with Azaadi standing over Andrew’s body while Levin tumbled down a cliff, far, far below.
“This is my fault,” Levin thought to himself. “Again. Why do I keep surviving when everyone around me dies?”
Andrew had died because Levin refused to run. And now Kirima was dead, all because Levin had been unable to save her. He hadn’t been able to convince her not to do this, and he hadn’t had the power to see it done.
“If only I had been a better runesmith. With more powerful runes, I could have driven Amaq back, or saved Kirima even from a fatal wound.”
As Cho’s wings tossed the last piece of dirt atop Kirima’s grave, Levin began to leave, leading the unwilling horse away from her companion’s grave. His heart was shattered, but his mind knew they couldn’t stay there, not with Amaq still lurking in the night.
“I understand now…” he thought as he began to ride Nini back to Inuvik’s campus, tightly clutching Kirima’s medallion in his hands.
“In this world of mages, the only thing that matters is raw power. The Mage Hunters struggle in the shadows because they don’t have enough, while mages keep slaves the size of a small city and no one cares. Kirima had no power, none at all, but she still tried to make her dreams a reality. And now she’s dead. Killed by someone with too much power.
“If she had waited to act until she was Wisp rank at least, maybe today would have gone differently. If I had more power, I would not have let this happen. But I didn’t. I don’t. For everything I’ve managed to acquire on my own so far, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
“For two months I’ve worked for Pilip during the day, gone to a library that won’t even let me read the books in the evening, and practiced acolyte-level runes at night. Is that all? Am I really content with that? At this rate, will I ever have enough power to go back home?
All along, he had known the answer to that, but been unwilling to accept it. Now he wanted nothing more than to return to home, but had to accept that he had made no progress at all.
It was time for that to change. Levin cursed this dimension, cursed Silla and Azaadi, cursed Amaq. And he cursed Inuvik Academy, for their cruel methods that had drawn Kirima to her death. And he cursed himself, for forgetting Andrew’s command to take everything these mages had.
Giving one final look back in the direction Kirima lay, Levin made a solemn vow to the heavens.
He would never let anyone else down because of his weakness.