Ewan flung the beaker half-filled with burnt sludge on the table and leaned back on the chair, taking deep grunting breaths to calm his nerves and ease his fatigue. Failure after failure drained all five sets of ingredients down the gutter, he kicked the table leg in annoyance, the tools rattled. That was a lot of Novas, its wastage panged him. He’d failed a lot when making potions by now, uncountable times, yet each new defeat hit him like it was his first. He wondered when he would become numb to this crushing feeling, or would that day ever come at all.
Nevertheless, it couldn’t kill his drive for success, he wouldn’t let it. No matter how many times he fell, he would get back up again. And so, he reconnected to the hub and went looking for the ingredients once more. Before dawn broke, he would have a successful potion ready for Frost, his stubbornness forced him forward.
….
….
….
Though he ended up the worst for wear, his obstinacy saw him through his defeats. Before the first ray of morning warmed the window, before Nana groaned and stretched, and before his Astylinds opened their eyes, he brewed the potion. After ten tries, the eleventh attempt gave him a sweet delish success.
The accomplishment filled him with euphoria, his confidence and pride rose another notch. As Nana said, he just might like succeeding, the feeling was addictive. Through these successes, he proved his own worth to himself.
Yet, all of it could go down the drain if Frost failed to promote. This was out of Ewan’s control, so he could do nothing but bet on his Astylind and hope for the best. To prepare for the worst though, he adjusted his mindset to brew more potions regardless of how much it cost him. If he didn’t have enough, he could hunt and earn, then brew it. No matter how long it took, no matter how many times he failed.
But his determination aside, he wished Frost would prevail in one try. It would make the journey ahead a lot easier for them.
…..
Nana stood beside him, fidgeting, watching anxiously, as Ewan injected the ice-white potion into Frost’s vein. All their Astylinds stood around, guarding against any foreign intervention, ordered to maintain absolute silence and cause no disturbance.
Frost growled and clenched his claws, his strained tail swaying, his skin stretching. Everything was calm on the outside, but he struggled with pain on the inside, his agony passed on to Ewan. His body ballooned, it ripped his skin in places, and he oozed blood. Soon he sat in the pool of red.
Hold on…hold on…
Books never mentioned any danger in the upgradation process, but Frost’s state made him uncertain. What if they were wrong? What if failure to upgrade hurt his Astylinds? The first time was a simple procedure with basic stirred solutions, but he was dealing with potions now. The shimmering pool of blood that grew another circle already killed his desire for a fruitful ending, he only hoped Frost would come out unharmed.
The little imp groaned then howled in his baby voice, Ice-Anima bellowed with him. A faint snowy rune appeared on both his trembling arms, etched from his forearms to his upper arms. With its final stroke, the surging Ice-Anima collapsed, and his pain stopped. Frost fell back and fainted, his claws still clenched, his tail twitching.
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Ewan rushed with Iris and healed him; Nana assisted with Luna too. Failure or success could come later, dealing with his blood loss was more urgent.
……
[Astylind Name: Imp (Ice-Variant)]
[Astylind Level: Level-4]
[Astylind Grade: Grade-B]
[Anima Affinity: Ice]
[Skills: Ice-Favored | Snowdoll (Dormant)]
[Gender: Male]
[Description: Natives of Alvodor. Their talents and affinity vary based on their bloodline. But most are capable of decent spellcasting and melee combat.]
[Grade-Exalt Requirement: Noble Rite (Hynith Fauma)—Ice Burial, lay inside ‘Ceran Hynith’ for one cycle of seasons.]
[Remark 1: Low wisdom. Barely crossing the line. Possibility of taming and rearing is high.]
[Remark 2: Basic contract doesn’t work. Success rate might increase with a modified spell circuit.]
[Remark 3: Hah, I’m a master of a Demon now. But too much torture broke his mind. Tch!]
[Remark 4: Modified spell circuit succeeded; the contract was a success. No oppression needed. Changing their format in the database, the contracted ones will be noted ‘Astylind’ from now on.]
The new skill, though still dormant, gave Ewan a pleasant surprise, but the next upgrade soon clutched his mind.
Millennium Ice?
Noble Rite for Grade-A—if he intended to continue on this path, all his Astylinds would eventually hit that roadblock. He’d long prepared himself for it. Yet, the Atarin term ‘Ceran Hynith’ tripped him. It translated to ‘Millennium Ice’ in common tongue, but he never heard of it. So, while Frost snored by the side and Nana prepared breakfast, he brought out his books and researched this rite. The ‘Explorer’s Edition’ books he bought might contain this information, but he trusted his family’s journal more.
His predecessors experimented with Demons, they tried to tame them. Though only his Pa succeeded and made a Demon his Astylind, others too had noted down valuable information in the journal. And indeed, he found several entries, especially the one that defined the term.
[Ceran Hynith: Millennium Ice, where time stood still for over a thousand years. Be mindful of temperature fluctuations. Beyond a certain range, its quality drops.]
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Status: Healthy
Step-0 [4th Awakening]
Name: Ewan Ayres
Species: Human
Vitality: 1.5
Spirit: 7.2
Anima: [Fire – 7.2 | Ice – 7.2 | Blood – 7.2]
Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [4th Awakening]
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Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
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Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-4] [Grade-B]
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Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.
Novas: 193
Crelith: 4984