A few days later I sit in the gymnasium, my heart pounding in my ears as I try with all my might to focus on the building fire between my two palms. I am the second to mark off all of my mandatory exercises for the day. My list is the only one unchanged over the last week. The boys’ lists grew more than twice over, the three of them are currently busy with their running, the majority of their daily exercises; twenty miles each. Coriander’s list is the only one that shrank, she is out of the gymnasium each morning after little over half an hour, off to private magic lessons with Arabella. Since we last spoke out on the veranda overlooking the clouds, Arabella hasn’t sought fit to try and give me any further instructions or trap me in an illusion facing off against a monster. I was frustrated the first day, but now I think that her ignoring me is a test, a test to see if I will continue doing what it was she instructed me to do in the first place.
The fire in my hands grows harder to hold onto. I have been at this attempt for more than fifteen minutes. As soon as I completed my daily exercise, I found a spot on the mat to work at draining all of my mana away with practice. It has only begun to dawn on me, my abilities have made me a Recovery specialist. As far as I can tell, all that means is that my vital energies recover more quickly than they would otherwise. After fifteen minutes of concentrating on this single iteration of the spell, my focus slips for a moment, and I check the green line in my vision representing my stamina, almost halfway full once more. That slip is enough to let me know that I have failed again, and with a grunt of effort, I push the ball of fire into the large tub of water in front of me, where it sizzles and evaporates a layer of the water.
In the metal tub bubbles stick to the corrugated sides; ever so slowly, the water cools again. I take a ladle sitting next to me and gulp down a mouthful of the water before pouring some over my head. The sound of my racing heart and the stamp of three sets of feet as they make a circuit of the gymnasium are the only sounds. The boys practically sprint around the room, and no matter how long they run, they don’t look the least bit out of breath.
I check my mana, 43/80. I adjust my shoulders and begin the spell again, conjuring fire between my fingers. There is a difference to how it was only a few days ago. The difference is small, I can feel the mana pour into the fire and strengthen it just a bit faster than when I first tried. It takes maybe a minute and a half now to reach twenty mana, twice as powerful as my basic version of the spell. At eight minutes, I reach twenty-five mana in the spell and feel a barrier stop me dead in my tracks, refusing my attempts to infuse any more mana. I have managed to push past the barrier only twice so far, reaching thirty mana, but I can already tell that this will not be such a case. Still, I try.
After fifteen minutes have passed, I give up on this version of the spell and allow it to splash into the water. I check my mana, 37/80. I have been at this for over two hours now. As best as I can tell, with my current recovery, it takes me around an hour to recover the entirety of my mana. I can focus on unleashing these spells for nearly four hours before I need to worry about running out. This must be what it means to be a Recovery specialist.
Feet pound the flooring as someone approaches me from behind, slowing to a stop. Kendon looks down at me, a dashing smile on his lips as he bends and scoops up the ladle for himself. He drinks a healthy cupful from the water tub in front of me before dumping a considerable amount over his own head. He hands me the ladle instead of dropping it to the mat and uses a towel to pat down his metallic copper hair and wiping the sweat from his neck. I am jealous as I look up at him, it might be a quirk of elves, but they never seem to be left panting no matter how hard they work.
“Does that help?” he asks me, casting his eyes toward the tub of water.
“I think so,” I say. “I’m still a bit new to all of these magical powers. Well, I have had one for a while now, but training at it never occurred to me before.”
“You have a disenchanting power,” Kendon says, not a question. “I imagine that you are going to be very useful in this upcoming competition.”
"You know what it is we are going to be doing?” I ask. “I have to admit that it’s been on my mind.”
“No,” Kendon says. “I can guess. Ms. Willian wants to make us fight rank two monsters in a safe environment. Well, as safe as an illusion where it really feels like you die can be. I imagine that must mean there will be rank two monsters wherever we are going. Depending on just how many monsters, a disenchanting ability may be invaluable.”
“Well, my brother did keep me around for it,” I say. I can see at once that he doesn’t appreciate the self-deprecation of my joke.
“I am certain that he brought you along because he found you a good fit for his team. You will be a good fit in our team I am certain. That fire of yours looks like it could be nasty.”
“If you give me a few minutes to get ready, maybe,” I say. “How long would you say that I might have in a real fight to empower a spell?”
“That depends on your guardian,” Kendon says.
“If it were you or Macille then. I have a feeling that asking for over a minute of uninterrupted concentration might be a little much.” The frown he returns to me lets me know I’m right. “Which is why I am practicing to get that time down.” I slap the side of the metal tub with my hand.
He smirks at that. Macille calls out to his brother as he passes us on his running laps. “Don’t overdo it,” Kendon tells me as he slings his towel over a rack near the padded center of the gymnasium. “Mana strain is no joke, and the headache is not worth having.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I say. I still remember the pain Bali was in when she ran out of mana in the middle of the woods. I have only dropped my mana below 10 a single time so far, and the immediate migraine that came on and lasted until my mana was full once more is enough of a reminder.
With another nod, Kendon sets himself back to his running, and I return to empowering my Dragonfire Bolt and launching it into the tub of water.
Two hours pass before I begin to approach the 10 mana threshold of my mana and decide to stop with my magic practice for the time being. I lean back, resting my palms on the mat and attempting to get my breathing under control once more. The magic practice takes just about as much out of my body as the running and weight exercises. Looking around the room, I notice that I have been left alone in the gymnasium. The chalk board on the far wall shows that everyone has completed their mandatory exercises for the day.
The boys will have gone off, studying under some sword master that I still haven’t met yet. Apparently, she lives on the opposite side of the manor from my room and keeps to herself most of the time. The boys have had only good things to say about her. Of course, some of their complements are a little…physical in nature. Coriander will still be studying with Arabella.
The morning light sprinkles through the high windows of the gymnasium, casting a harsh, warm light across the entirety of the room. The light is always harsh up above the clouds, venturing outside will blind you as the clouds reflect the light back up to you. There is something a bit off-putting about being left alone in the room, but I push the feeling aside.
I check my stamina, 50/50. With a sigh, I lever myself up to my feet and walk over to the chalk board, stretching the stiffness out of my neck and shoulders. I don’t know how it took me so long to discover it, but unlike before I integrated essentia into my soul, once my stamina reaches its maximum once more, I feel as fresh as a daisy. Except for needing to sleep, as long as I have stamina, I can keep working.
It is some time in the mid-afternoon when the unexpected stops me dead in the middle of my running. It is the fifth time today that I have started my daily run, and just as I am passing the halfway point on this session, Galea appears in front of my, dragging a sign into my view, stopping me.
THRESHOLD FOR SOUL REINFORCEMENT REACHED!
My lungs heaving, I read the sign again before the meaning of it begins to dawn on me. Just as I realize what it is saying, Galea opens her claws wide, and a splash of pink sparks sizzle out into the air.
“Congratulations, Mistress Charlene!” Galea exclaims. “You have reached the threshold for the second level.”
“That’s…a good…thing,” I pant out before remembering that I can communicate to the spirit with my thoughts. “What does that mean exactly?”
Galea looks over the sign, reading it herself before looking back to me a bit confused. I glower at the shiny lizard. “You know what I am asking,” I say.
“Can Mistress Charlene not read the message clearly?” she asks, trying to play innocent.
“Explain it plainly,” I command.
Galea doesn’t even look the least bit offended at the order. “It means that Mistress Charlene should wash herself off, have a good snack, and be right to bed at once. Reinforcing the soul happens when creatures enter the rest and rebuilding time of their metabolisms. As Mistress Charlene knows no meditation techniques to quicken her recovery, I recommend sleeping as soon as possible.”
“So, I go to sleep and wake up stronger than before.”
“Mistress Charlene is adept at summarization,” Galea says, clapping her claws for me.
I blow the lizard away and jog out of the gymnasium toward the baths. I still have a good bit of stamina left, so I choose to hurry about it. The bath water is cold by the time that I enter the chamber, but dunking my hand into the water and activating my dragonfire takes care of that. It also drains my mana at a shocking rate. Perhaps another method to train the spell in the future.
The dining room within the manor adjoins the kitchen, and I find it as deserted as I expect when I arrive. Instead of bothering to prepare a proper meal, I carry two pears and a slice of buttered bread back toward my room, crunching on an apple as I go. I toss the apple core into a bin in my room as I march to the bed in my fluffy, blue robe. I am worried about getting to sleep with it still being the midafternoon, but I feel my consciousness fade away from me the second that my head hits the pillow.
I don’t dream, or at least I don’t believe that I did. I became aware of an angry tapping sound while I float in darkness. Annoyed, and realizing that I am just lying in bed and not in fact floating in dark waters, I crack an eye open. A huge bird, a three feet tall at least and the white color of a seabird with the matching bright yellow beak, taps against the windowpane with its blunted beak. I throw a pillow at the window. The dull thump is enough to spook the bird into flapping off.
I am just about to start my morning routine of complaining at the world for an hour or so, while refusing to get out of bed, when the memory of what I was attempting to do yesterday crashes down on me.
I bolt up in bed. “Galea,” I say.
“It is about time Mistress Charlene awoke,” Galea says as she swims toward me from somewhere out of my vision. She is carrying one of the transparent black signs between her claws. “I have been needing to show this to Mistress Charlene for a few hours now.” Galea lands on the air in front of me and turns the sign so that I can read it.
SOUL REINFORCEMENT SUCCESSFUL!!! LEVEL 1 → 2
Charlene Devardem
Human(Level 1 → 2)(Rank 1)
Emperor Conflux
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Attributes
Vitality: 6 → 7
Strength: 3 → 6
Magic: 8 → 12
Defense: 4 → 5
Magic Defense: 8 → 9
Speed: 7 → 11
Recovery: 12 → 16
Perception: 6 → 7
Healing Points: 60 → 70
Mana: 80 → 120
Stamina: 50 → 68
Unutilized Soul Residuals Found
+10 Free Points!!!
Had the first thing I expected to see today been a tiny dragon holding a message onto the void of a rectangle, displaying my information with a bunch of moving numbers? Yes, at least a little bit. There may have been an easier way to check if what I saw was real than jumping out of bed and leveraging it up with one hand, but it is the best way to think to do it at the moment.
“Mistress Charlene’s smile tells me that she is satisfied with her soul reinforcement,” Galea says.
“Can a mudjaw crush a cantaloupe,” I say. Of course I am excited about the soul reinforcement. I just went to bed and woke up twice as strong as I was before, at least that is what I am guessing from my new strength attribute. I wonder if it is literally twice as strong as before or something else.
Glancing to the top of my vision I can see the three lines representing my vital energies. It appears that what I initially thought about healing points and mana is true, healing points are ten times vitality attribute and mana is ten times my magic attribute. I have no idea what is behind the mathematics involved with stamina, however. Thinking of mathematics sours my mood somewhat, of all the subjects taught in the small building behind the church, mathematics had always been low on the list of interest for me.
“What did that last bit mean, Galea?” I ask the dragon. “What are Free Points?”
Galea’s face lights up like I have never seen before. “The artificers behind the creation of Volaash’s Eye were geniuses, and I am not saying that simply because they created my own engram and consciousness. Whenever a soul undergoes reinforcement, some of the energy intended for the reinforcement remains unused. This unused energy is of no use to an essentia magician and will remain out of their grasps until they undergo a rank evolution where they receive all of it at once. Some peoples, like humans, often have high amounts of this energy when they gain a rank evolution, which is also why rank changes in humans are more radical than most of the descendant races of Exeter. Others, like elves and savai, often experience no accumulation in this wasted energy.
“What I have discovered while Mistress Charlene was asleep is that the designers of Volaash’s Eye saw fit to allow it to recapture this energy and integrate it into the reinforcement once more.”
“So, you’re saying that I can use this unspent energy?” I ask.
“No, but I can, Mistress Charlene, at your discretion.” I frown at the dragon, knowing that she is trying to have fun at my expense. “How should I distribute the energy for you? You have 10 free points.”
I ignore the smugness in Galea’s smile. I honestly cannot fathom that creature or its sense of humor. The idea of spending everything on strength and becoming a freakishly strong brute crosses my mind. I doubt I would be even a tenth as strong as Halford is, but the idea is attractive. My own smile fades as I concentrate on the problem at hand. My strength increased by three, and yet everyone has been telling me that I am going to be a mage, or as Halford put it, a mage that can only deal damage with fire. Why then would my strength increase so much?
Another message appears in front of me.
Attributes
Vitality: 6 → 7: +1 Human
Strength: 3 → 6: +1 Human +2 Effort Value
Magic: 8 → 12: +1 Human +3 Effort Value
Defense: 4 → 5: +1 Human
Magic Defense: 8 → 9: +1 Human
Speed: 7 → 11: +1 Human +3 Effort Value
Recovery: 12 → 16: +2 Human +2 Effort Value
Perception: 6 → 7: +1 Human
Healing Points: 60 → 70(10 x Vitality)
Mana: 80 → 120(10 x Magic)
Stamina: 50 → 68(2 x (Vitality + Speed + Recovery))
Galea swims around to read the message along with me and is about to speak but I preempt her. “Ten points of effort value for each level,” I say. I see Galea deflate a bit at my noticing, and given that, it likely means that it is true. Looking at the Stamina, I don’t think that I would have ever figured that out. I had always heard that humans apparently healed faster than most others, Recovery being the only attribute that went up by two based on me being human all but confirms it. “What should I spend these free points on then?”
“Well,” Galea says, glad to be engaged again, “if Mistress Charlene wishes to be better at magic, then putting points into magic would be a good idea. On the other hand, if Mistress Charlene wishes to be stronger, then she might spend them there.”
I brush off the dragon and concentrate on the problem. It appears that depending on what I do to make it to the next level, certain attributes will grow stronger, likely meaning the two points of effort values in strength came from my working in the gymnasium, the speed probably came from all the running. Everyone whom I trust about matters of adventurers and magic has been telling me that I am going to be some kind of magical caster, so I decide to trust them and know I will definitely be spending points on magic. I have an ability that makes points in recovery more valuable than all my other stats, so I will need to spend some there as well. Finally, I decide to spend a point each on speed and magical defense because I hate odd numbers.
“I will allocate your choices then,” Galea says before I even verbalize what I have decided. She swims through the air in front of me and points her clawed hands at me. I feel the light pour out of my skin as much as see it, a flash of gold that erupts out of me. In a second the sensation of the light is gone, and I am blinking to regain my vision from the temporary blindness. A message appears in front of me.
Attributes
Vitality: 6 → 7: +1 Human
Strength: 3 → 6: +1 Human +2 Effort Value
Magic: 8 → 16: +1 Human +3 Effort Value + 4 Free Points
Defense: 4 → 5: +1 Human
Magic Defense: 8 → 10: +1 Human +1 Free Point
Speed: 7 → 12: +1 Human +3 Effort Value +1 Free Point
Recovery: 12 → 20: +2 Human +2 Effort Value +4 Free Points
Perception: 6 → 7: +1 Human
Healing Points: 60 → 70
Mana: 80 → 160
Stamina: 50 → 78
Just looking at the numbers is nothing short of incredible. It is hard to imagine that I just woke up today so much stronger than I was yesterday. Today I have twice as much mana as I did yesterday. My healing points haven’t increased all that much, and since I haven’t used them yet, I can only assume they exist to do the obvious, heal me.
Another thing that hasn’t happened since I became a full blown essentia magician hits me as I begin to relax. I am absolutely famished.
The dining room in the manor is typically vacant. I almost never find anyone else in there when I go for my meals, meals I have to prepare myself. The three elves and one celenial who are my contemporaries as students almost never seem to visit the room. I learned from Jellian a long time ago that elves typically only eat once a day. Arabella either doesn’t eat at all herself or takes her meals privately, and I’ve never caught Mr. Mason eating either. This is why I am surprised to not find myself alone in the dining room after I shoulder open the door, carrying my plate of toasted bread, butter, and some of the peach jam I found in the kitchen.
At the long table that runs the length of the dining room sits a woman that I have never seen before. She is from a people whom I’ve never met or heard of before. She would look identical to a human if it weren’t for the six horns sprouting out from her head, the fact that she has four arms instead of two, and the matter of her being easily twice as big as I am. A blue eye flicks in my direction as I enter the room, and I freeze in my step momentarily as I make my way to sit at the table.
I know that this must be the famed combat instructor that I have heard about; the massive ax leaning against the wall behind her all but confirms that. She ignores me as I sit, turning back to her plate of fruits and greens, peeling an apple with a fingernail that cuts the flesh as easily as a knife might. A few minutes of silence only interrupted by my nibbling of my toast and the crunching of the other woman passes before I realize that I forgot to get a drink with my meal.
Quietly, as quietly as I can manage, I lift my chair and scoot it back, shuffling forward to retrieve an empty glass from the table and fill it with the decanter of water sitting near the woman.
She allows me to make it halfway through filling my glass before speaking, “I have never seen you here before.” She speaks like I imagine the elves in the big cities to speak, her vowels practically floating on air and the hard sounds running together fluidly with the rest.
“My name is Charlene Devardem,” I say, needing to postpone my proper bow until I have set the glass down. “I have not been here long.”
“Charlene…” the woman chews on my name. “You are that human girl that Arabella scooped up who reminds her so much of herself.”
“I don’t know about that.”
The woman holds up a hand, shaking her head. “Pardon my own manners. My name is Kithkik Hallanos, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am quite interested in this new project of hers. Not invested, mind you, but interested.”
“Am I correct in guessing that you are the combat instructor the others have been taking lessons from?” I ask.
“Combat instructor,” Kithkik scoffs. “If you mean, have I beat those elf boys bloody a time or two after they would not stop pestering me, then yes. If they learned anything from the beatings, that is up to them. I am not much of a teacher.”
It occurs to me to try and see what my new eye says about the woman but like with Arabella when I first tried to use it on her, it gives me no information. Not that I need it to. My dragon’s eye picks up no energy coming off of the woman, not even the whiff of a single color, but it tells me that this woman is as powerful as Arabella if not slightly more so. Another rank four.
“I have not seen you in the training yard,” Kithkik says. “Do you wield the strength of arms?”
“I don’t have any talent for swinging weapons,” I say.
“What does talent have to do with anything,” Kithkik says, shrugging her massive shoulders. “If you wish to be proficient with a blade, that is what you work at. If not,” she gestures at me, “then work yourself in other areas. Arabella mentioned she saw herself in you a bit, and when she says that, she often means she finds the girl in question pretty, naive, and that they destroy things with magic.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. “I believe all essentia magicians use magic to destroy things.” It is only after I say it that I realize how blatantly false the statement is.
Kithkik shrugs. “Essentia magicians do,” she agrees.
“The way you say that makes it sound as if you aren’t one,” I say.
“I am not,” she agrees again.
“But…” No. There is no hint of an aura peeling off of her, yet every fiber of my being screams at me about how dangerous this giant of a woman is. “How are you so powerful then?” I ask without thinking.
“She said you were perceptive,” Kithkik says, smirking.
The woman goes on to enlighten me about a great many things which I did not know that I did not know. She tells me that her people are called the Crowned, descendants of a goddess named Ilmadrial, and that they do not use mana or essentia in any way. Firstly, that there are a people out there who are not descended from Exeter himself is a revelation. In my near two decades of life, I have never heard anything about the existence of another progenitor god. Then again, until I found a bed for myself on this flying house, I had never been further than thirty miles from the orchard I was born on, nor even known that houses could fly.
The fact that neither her people, the Crowned, or any other of the descendent races of Ilmadrial utilize mana is also something I have never thought could be real. As far as I understand, every living thing in the world has mana as a core component of their being. Monsters are completely composed of mana, or at least I have been told so. That Kithkik could be as powerful as a rank four essentia magician without using any mana or magic at all is so bewildering to me that I cannot even picture it. I am beginning to come to understand that most of what I thought I knew about the world might, in fact, be untrue.
Kithkik shows no hesitancy in answering the immediate questions that come to my mind after hearing her explain just that little bit, nor does she seem to find the questions rude. She takes great enjoyment in the clear shock on my face. She tells me about the land she comes from, some archipelago so unimaginably large that it is compared to oceans in terms of size, which floats dozens of miles in the air on the other side of the world. She names every continent between here and her home island of Lisfint, twenty-seven continents, most of which I have never heard of.
She speaks about her early childhood, wrestling animals that sound like some cross between bats and lions, and raising giant pink birds that the Crowned ride upon. She describes her home the same way that I might my own ten years from now, and the smile on her lips grows as so does her telling. Partway through telling me about winning her city’s wrestling competition as a young girl, she freezes in place.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The manor has stopped.” Kithkik looks to the door and starts to lever herself up from her chair. “One of the copies is coming.”
A moment later one of Arabella Willian’s ice clones opens the door to the room. The clone comes to a sudden stop, her eyes landing on me where I stand at the table opposite Kithkik.
“Come Charlene, you need to hurry,” it tells me, illustrating its words with floating lights.
I don’t argue, setting into motion to follow the turning clone as it walks out of the dining room, grabbing two pieces of toast from my plate as I leave. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” I call back to Kithkik.
“Good luck,” she says back.
The clone leads me through the twisting and undecorated halls of the manor. After a minute or more of following it in silence I speak up. “What is this about?” I ask it.
“We must make way to the sky berth at once,” it says, not elaborating as to why.
Like the training yard, I have never visited the sky berth on the bottom levels of the manor, as I have never needed to. A few flights of stairs lead us to a windy hallway that opens out onto a stone platform made out of salt-and-pepper colored marble. The circular platform of stone leads to a pocket of air, the clouds passing beneath while the earth the manor is built upon hangs above. Arabella, Kendon, Macille, Jor’Mari, and Coriander turn as the ice clone steps forward on its clicking heels. Behind the five that turn and look to me sit what I can only describe as a massive tub made of tin.
“Good,” Arabella says as the clone bows and I walk past it onto the platform. “Now that you have arrived, we can begin.”