“I recognize what you’re doing will do you good for the long term, but I must recommend that you either cease practicing so frequently, or wait entirely until we reach our destination.” Vefir continued to lecture me as I laid nearly insensate on the ground. His healing was the only reason I could still walk, but even so, I continued to use [Spear of the Many] again and again, trying to acclimate myself to the surge in stats that the [Skill] granted. That there was a forced one hour recovery time after each time I used the [Skill] was currently a blessing, though it still grated on me.
Four days of practice, and I was only barely a half of a step closer to fully capable of using my newest, most powerful [Skill]. I’d learned that I could select how many of my followers I could siphon the stats from as well as the percentage, but whenever I received a bonus beyond even ten percent of my total stats, my body simply couldn’t function correctly. It didn’t make any damned sense, since I’d completed [Quests] before and had my stats surge more than that percentage without any difficulty controlling myself. Nievtala, the Administrator, and [System] alike offered no additional information either, since Nievtala remained silent, the Administrator said that it was something I needed to learn myself, and the [System] replied with a mere restatement of the [Skill’s] description.
As near as I could figure, the reason I couldn’t control my body and power while drawing greater stats was that it wasn’t “my” power. However the transference of power worked, the strength that flooded my body was wholly foreign, and though that same power served to strengthen my bones and internals to support the surge in strength, it wasn’t “me”. Even though it wasn’t mine, I would have dived more completely into experimentation with fully suffusing my body with the [Skill] if it weren’t for two things.
The first, the warning the [Skill’s] description itself offered: though your body will be able to draw on strength beyond what it is capable of naturally, your body’s limitations yet remain. Through excessive usage of the Spear of the Many Skill, it is possible to damage or even injure yourself. Those words didn’t frighten me exactly, but the [System] had never been deceitful or at all hyperbolic. I could trust that possibly maiming myself permanently was possible with [Spear of the Many], and that the description itself warned me meant it might be even simpler than being stronger and faster than intended and crashing into something.
This suspicion was reinforced by the second warning and reason for my hesitation. Using the [Skill] at all hurt. Even after just a moment of activation at the lowest levels, my muscles tingled uncomfortably. Less than a minute later, that would transition to a burn, as if I’d sprinted while carrying Ytte’s giant rock. Two minutes later and that burn would transition to true pain as it travelled deeper into my body and set my heart to racing, even without exertion. If I let the [Skill] continue after that, then the true agony began. Vomiting was common, as was my vision beginning to swim. I frequently stopped feeling my toes and fingers, or felt a prickling sensation that made every movement agony. My [Pain Tolerance] seemed to do nothing for me, preventing no agony and providing no clarity of mind.
The first few times, I’d thought it was all in my head, and disabled the [Skill] only after pushing myself to the limit. After the third test, though, Vefir hadn’t been able to keep himself from approaching and laying a hand on my shoulder.
“Are you sure–” He’d cut himself off as soon as he touched me. His tone shifted from concerned to commanding. “Sit, rest. The rest of you, stop the swarm.” Then, his demands made, he helped me to lay down on the earth. My heart thudded in rhythm with the pulsating blurriness in my vision. His face was unclear to me as I unwillingly let my head flop to the dirt.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I’ll be fine.” I slurred, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. The faint taste of blood accompanied the feeling, and I somehow understood that my nose was bleeding. Oh, yes. It was puddling under my head.
“No.” Vefir nearly shouted. “You will rest!” His magic flowed unceasingly into my body, setting me to right in a dozen ways. The nausea didn’t fade though, and I’d vomited, the thick bile mixing with my blood and choking me as it filled my snout. Vefir cleaned it away with businesslike efficiency as he, with a couple of assistants’ help, lifted and moved me elsewhere. I couldn’t say where. Eventually, though, I’d recovered, my body’s agony reduced to mere discomfort. Even then, Vefir, Sybil, Shemira, Took, and Brutus had effectively held me down until night had fallen and the herds became wholly unwilling to continue.
After learning about how exactly the [Skill] worked and asking dozens of clarifying questions, my elites had convinced me to follow several guidelines. It hadn’t taken much to convince me to stop pushing myself for so long, since that had offered nothing but an excruciating lesson. On the other hand, the forced waiting period of one hour after each practice grated on me, and had only grudgingly received my approval after the very reasonable argument of “What would happen if you lay weakened, and every one of the elites and those who trusted me most were also missing much of their own strength?” Tied with that same request made by my subordinates was that I couldn’t draw on every single subject possible at the same time, and even more, never more than half of my followers. Again, it made frustrating sense to me, as my practicing with this [Skill] was currently to the detriment of the swarm.
Regardless of how much the requests made grated on me, I followed them. Regardless of how much sense they made, I stewed under the restrictions. I learned that I could mentally choose in bulk which half of the followers to drain from, or even exclude particular individuals. Even so and armed with this knowledge, I studiously practiced basically every hour at the earliest opportunity, for as long as I remained awake. All that practice granted me no greater resistance to the drawbacks of the [Skill], no greater depth of understanding, or anything beyond the barest hint of what my comfortable limit might be. Even the comfortable limit could only be supported for a minute before I’d incur minor hurts.
With all this practice, I felt I deserved the ability to use the stupid [Skill], but there was no such luck. There was no magical enlightenment that settled over me. Instead, every hour, I would lay, exhausted on the ground after fifteen to fifty seconds and curse the beauty the [Skill] promised while remaining tantalizingly out of grasp.
On the fourth day of my practicing, Vefir held me as he gently suggested I reduce the frequency and intensity of my practices. I struggled to not give in as my muscles ached and I longed for a bath. A warm one, where I could indulge in my magical exfoliation, with Sybil scrubbing my back, shoulders… everything that hurt. Which was everything. There were, however, no sands to delight in, no baths to enjoy. Instead, there was more miserable walking.
After I finally struggled to my feet and resumed my own steps towards our goal, though, I felt something. A change in the air. It was less arid than before, just the barest hint of moisture. The mostly yellow grasses had, without my realizing, transitioned to a light green while reducing somewhat in their depth. A forest colored the horizon, or more correctly, the base of the mountains spread before us. Our herds, born, raised, and made for the desert savannah we left behind, lowed and complained with every step, but our shepherds pushed them inevitably forward. Days had passed since the last indlovu had disturbed our passage, and the beasts submitted reluctantly to our commands.
Though the herds dampened our transition to this new climate, every keelish felt it. We knew where we had arrived, and each subconsciously breathed deeply. The faint moisture soothed my nostrils and throat while the scent invigorated me. The faint, far off chatter of songbirds forced me to relax.
This wasn’t Nievtra yet, but this… this was home.