Zeke took a deep breath, centering his mind as he sought the tranquility necessary to really work on what he hoped would eventually become his newest skill. At level fifty, he’d opened the slot, so he could finalize the create at any time he chose. However, the structure of underlying glyphs and symbols that would make up the overarching rune simply wasn’t up to his standards.
And there was no shortcut to viability, either. He’d learned that when he’d attempted to forcefully evolve the skill that would eventually become the corrupted version of [Armor of the Colossus]. Back then, he’d made the terrible choice to try to adjust his skill in the middle of battle, and the result was a half-finished skill that probably should have killed him. It hadn’t, but that skill had meant that he’d had to spend the last few weeks in the Radiant Isles as a half-armored monster.
He had no interest in revisiting that state of affairs, not least because the skill he had planned was far more complex, and as a result, there were hundreds more ways it could go wrong. So, he sat in his meditation room, his eyes closed and his legs crossed as he tried to fall into the proper mindset.
And slow, despite all the stress he’d recently endured, Zeke felt tranquility envelop his mind. That’s when he settled in to really get to work.
He had already spent quite a bit of time working on the skill, but those efforts all been confined to the foundations. As such, there really didn’t look like there was much there. Just the bare bones of what he hoped would soon begin to take shape.
Time went on, and gradually, Zeke found a rhythm. Each symbol was a complex thing, a creation of almost pure mana that was somehow given solidity by the force of his soul. His Will came into it – at least the part associated with his old Runecrafting path – but it was just as much a mental exercise in concentration and focus as it was anything mystical.
Each glyph was like a single brick in a massive tower. Small and seemingly inconsequential, and the structure could bear the loss or misplacement of a single piece, but each mistake made the entire skill less stable. And if enough instability existed, then the entire thing would fall apart.
But it wouldn’t stop at mere dissolution.
No, if the integrity of the skill failed, it wouldn’t simply dissipate so he could start over. At best, the collapse would only wound his mind and soul, if not his body, and if that happened, he would require quite a lot of recovery time. However, if worse came to worst, those fallen pieces would take on a mind of their own and mutate into something he never intended.
Was it possible that it would end up as something beneficial?
Perhaps. But it was far more likely the resulting skill would cripple him. That his previous mistake hadn’t was a minor miracle, though situation was likely assisted by the skill’s foundations being created by the Framework.
That wouldn’t be the case in this instance, so Zeke knew he needed to get it right, lest he reap the consequences.
So, he took great pains to maintain his focus, and one brick – or glyph – at a time, he built the structure of his new skill. As time went on, he shored up the foundation he’d already built, tearing it down and rebuilding bits and pieces until very little of the original assembly remained.
But even then, Zeke wasn’t happy with it.
“It’s never going to be perfect,” Eveline pointed out, driving a spike through his tranquility and bringing his momentum to a grinding halt. “You realize that, don’t you?”
“I can get closer than this.”
“Sure. But do I need to remind you that you have other demands on your time?” she asked. “You’ve been sitting here for almost four days without rest. Meanwhile, your responsibilities to your people – and they are your people, make no mistake about that – have yet to wane. Even now, I’m certain there are a thousand things demanding your attention. And yet, you remain in here, rebuilding the foundation of your skill, over and over again, to minimal improvement.”
“Big improvements can be the results of a thousand little steps forward,” he argued.
“Indeed. But you need to know when to simply step back and call it finished,” Eveline stated. “Move on and live the life you’ve created for yourself.”
Zeke sighed, then opened his eyes. They protested – after all, they’d remained closed for nearly four days – and the dim light of his meditation room drove little pinpricks into his brain. He blinked a couple of times as his body adjusted to the change.
“You’re just trying to distract yourself, and you know it.”
He ran his hand through his hair, letting out another deep breath. Was that true? He certainly didn’t crave the responsibility of running an entire city’s worth of people. Nor was he looking forward to whatever the centaurs were cooking up. The reality was that, for better or worse, Zeke just didn’t see himself as a leader, largely because he was terrified of screwing it up.
Since being reborn, he’d made plenty of mistakes, but usually, he only had his own well-being to consider. And he’d proven incredibly resilient to…well, just about everything. But those around him? If he went down the wrong road now, what would happen to all the people he’d taken under his wing? There were thousands of kobolds and almost a hundred former slaves living in the tower. If he took the wrong steps, they might very well end up dead.
And Zeke wasn’t certain if he could stomach that.
Killing enemies was easy. Being responsible for the deaths of allies was something else altogether.
But those problems weren’t going to be solved by a new skill, regardless of how perfectly constructed it was. So, even if he knew he could do better, there was a point where he just needed to step back and call those foundations finished. Then, he could move on to the rest of the structure and, finally, to tying everything together into a viable skill.
“Thanks,” Zeke said to Eveline. “I probably would have kept at it for months if you hadn’t said anything.”
“No problem. Now, I’m no expert on any of this, and I don’t even begin to understand what all those symbols mean, but I think it’s still going to take a little while to finish everything up,” she said. “So, go get something to eat, have a shower, take a nap, and then dive back in, okay?”
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“Yes, ma’am,” Zeke said, rising from the floor. As he did so, his tense muscles protested their ill-treatment, but he pushed through it with a pulse of [Cambion’s Awakening]. That’s when the fatigue started to set in. It wasn’t urgent, but he felt it deeply enough to recognize just how much it had been affecting his performance. So, he resolved to follow Eveline’s advice.
Over the next hour, he ate a massive amount of food. Mostly, it was nearly tasteless dried meat and vegetables grown within the tower, but it was satisfying enough that, when he was finished, his gnawing hunger had been banished. After that, he headed to the Crimson Spring, where he soaked for a few hours. He had no injuries for the healing waters to mend, but the soothing water definitely unkinked his muscles and helped banish the bone-deep fatigue that had set in.
Full and relaxed, Zeke followed his soak up with a long, restful sleep that didn’t end until almost two days later. He rose a few times to once again banish his hunger, but after finally getting a taste of true rest, his body craved more. He gave in, wanting to be in as perfect of shape as he could manage for the final push with his new skill.
So, when he finally settled down to do just that, he did so with a fresh set of eyes and a much more rested mind. The results were predictable, and over the next week, Zeke continued to build upon his previous efforts. As always, he likened it to construction. First came the foundation, which he’d already laid. Then, the frame that would support the rest of the structure. And finally, the details. Each phase was vitally important, and he didn’t let himself shortchange the process.
And slowly, things started to come together, one layer at a time.
His analogy wasn’t entirely accurate, largely because the process of building a skill was esoteric and uninhibited by the rules of the physical world. So, rather than building in three dimensions, constructing a rune – and by extension, a skill – required a shift in his mindset into exponentially more dimensions.
Zeke could readily acknowledge that he was no genius. In fact, if he was even mildly above average, regarding to his intelligence, he would have been surprised. However, when it came to runecrafting, he was, to put it mildly, extraordinarily gifted. So, as he slotted everything together, adjusting glyphs with every thought, he created a complex masterpiece of interlocking and multi-dimensional symbols. Even from a micro perspective, the structure was a masterwork, but when Zeke allowed himself to take in the larger picture, he was stunned that he'd managed to create something so beautiful.
Each piece, every single rune and glyph, fit together so seamlessly that he found it difficult to believe that it was a product of his own efforts. While it was clearly inferior to those perfect representations of runecraft that were his Framework-granted skills, it was far closer to that than any previous attempt he’d made.
But even as Zeke looked at it, he saw the imperfections. Every tiny wasted glyph, ever redundant symbol – they screamed at him to start over and rebuild everything from scratch. He ignored those impulses, knowing that if he started down that road, he’d never be satisfied. So, when he finally brushed against satisfaction, he embraced that emotion and, after taking a long, deep breath, finalized the structure by fitting the very last glyph into place.
Immediately, a notification flashed before his eyes, and a pair of new skill runes enveloped his ankles, but even with that confirmation, Zeke held his breath, waiting for it all to come crumbling down.
It didn’t.
“See? I told you it would be fine,” Eveline pointed out. She had remained silent throughout the process, which was a rarity for her. Usually, she barely went a few minutes without making one comment or another. So, he could feel the relief in her voiced thoughts. “You were worried over nothing.”
Zeke just shook his head and said, “You have no idea how many ways that skill could have gone wrong.”
Indeed, it wouldn’t have simply been a fractured skill. Rather, it would have probably killed him, given how much mana he’d invested in the process. But the fact that he was still alive and well wasn’t the only measure of success. So, with that in mind, Zeke read the notification:
Congratulations! You have constructed your third skill, [Shifting Sands].
“[Shifting Sands]? That wasn’t the name I would’ve expected,” he admitted. Then, he moved on to the skill’s description:
[Shifting Sands] (D) – You are a master of earth, fire, and corruption, commanding it and letting it infuse your entire body. Shift through the earth, erupting with explosive and Hellish force. Upgradeable.
“Oh, that sounds impressive,” Eveline said. “And it’s D-Grade. I’ve rarely even heard stories who have managed to reach that level in the Ethereal Realm.”
“So, it’s rare?” Zeke asked.
“More than rare. Not unheard-of, but just shy of it. Good job.”
Zeke accepted the praise with equanimity. It wasn’t that he was unappreciative of her opinion, but rather that Zeke was going to withhold his own judgement until after he’d had a chance to test things out. The skill itself looked like what he’d intended; he just wanted something that would help him move more quickly. But it had clearly been affected by his attunements – and his nature, perhaps – to become more destructive than he’d planned. Still, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and he hoped it would be precisely the increase to his mobility that he’d hoped for.
“Well, no time like the present to test things out,” he reasoned.
With that, he pushed himself back to his feet, pulsing [Cambion’s Awakening] to deal with the soreness he’d incurred from days of immobility. Then, he took a few minutes to take a shower, dress, and eat something before heading to the teleportation portal.
As much as he wanted to head straight outside to test the new skill, he forced himself to stop by the budding administrative hub in the center of the Residential District. It was a building not unlike all the others on that level of the tower, but it had somehow grown, adding a couple of new floors.
“The Crimson Tower is an ever-evolving construct of immense complexity,” Eveline said. “It will adjust according to your need. Or more aptly, the needs of your people.”
Zeke didn’t respond. Instead, he entered the building and found Kianma, who’d taken on something of a leadership role amongst the kobolds. She was already at the head of the spiritweavers, so organizing the rest of her people had clearly felt natural. As seemed to be the case more often than not, Silik was at her side, looming over everything like a sentry.
In any case, Zeke quickly discovered that everything was going extremely well with the population. Food production had seen constant growth, and now that people could venture back into the outside world, it had only gotten better. On top of that, the hunting expeditions had resumed, and people were starting to gain levels. In short, everything was going exceedingly well, which made Zeke wonder when the other shoe was going to drop.
Once Zeke had confirmed that everything wasn’t going to fall apart without his presence, he left the tower and headed about a mile into the Mukti Plains. Once deemed he was far enough away, he took a deep breath, then embraced his new skill.
The moment the new runes were suffused with mana, Zeke’s awareness shifted, and his perception of time sped up as his form became immaterial. In that state, it only took a thought to let his body slip beneath the ground. Once there, another mental command sent him rocketing more than a hundred yards forward. When he reached the end of the skill’s ability, he rematerialized and burst through the earth sending out a cascade of dirt.
But the earthen wave wasn’t alone. Instead, it was accompanied by a ring of Hellfire that spread for almost fifty feet.
It took Zeke a moment to adjust his awareness, but when he did, he began to understand the nature of the skill. From the most basic perspective, it allowed him to move through the ground at blistering speeds only to burst forth with destructive force. However, what the skill’s description hadn’t conveyed was that, while Zeke was moving, his perception of time was sped up, meaning that, from everyone else’s viewpoint, it wouldn’t be that far off from true teleportation.
Zeke looked around at the destruction he’d wrought on the landscape. The gently swaying grass was gone, burned to a crisp by the wave of Hellfire. However, that wasn’t the extent of the damage; the earth itself had been torn asunder, and the corrupted fire had melted it to slag.
The result wasn’t nearly as devastating as what accompanied [Hell Geyser], but it definitely wasn’t negligible, either.
“Teleportation with a kick,” he muttered. “I like it.”