“They're not reactive,” Alicia explained two loops ago, “If you want to set off multiple bombs simultaneously, you'll have to activate them all at once or the others will behave no different than wooden balls.”
Cyg rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Are you serious? I don't think I'll be able to master that in time. If I mess up, I'll just be wasting them, not to mention how loud it’ll all be; Merry would definitely catch on.”
“If you can’t be precise, you can just flood the entire space with your mana. Not much thinking involved there.”
“Hmm,” the thief hummed as he weighed his options. That would be exhausting, but if it took the basilisk out in one go, then what else would he need mana for? “That reminds me, how much of its blood can you carry back?”
She considered the question for a bit answering, “If I were lifting just the blood itself... likely not that much. But if I were to put it into buckets, I could lift maybe two... three of them? I don't know how much mana a basilisk has normally, but I don't think it can refill the entire thing in one go.”
And given that the witch is bound to investigate midway, it is unlikely Alicia will get a second trip. Unfortunate that these were the cards dealt, but what could they do? Complain?
* * *
“Fuck!” Cyg hissed as his mana probed around the ground a few paces next to the outhouse. In the dead of night on Tuesday, when the rain had become a mere drizzle, the thief searched for a buried box of bombs. He had planned on marking the place with his mana, heading back indoors, and swapping it to its final spot, but he was overconfident. There was no way of seeing what he was touching, and prodding the wrong place could ruin everything. The reason he was forced into this roundabout business was because he knew Merry could track his location in her domain, but the question was, how closely was she watching? Enough to see him run around outside and be suspicious of it?
There was no time better than now to set it up—Bassy was taking shelter from the rain, heavens know where, and Merry was not here within direct sight. He gambled, figuring the alternative was far riskier. Running to an upturned patch a few paces away, he dug just a few handfuls of earth with his hands until he hit wood. Finally, he was able to track it properly, covering up his mess and patting off the dirt as he went back inside.
His heart was pounding when he rinsed his hands in the kitchen, ears at full alert, waiting for any footsteps coming down the stairs. After five, ten, and fifteen minutes of silence, he let his breathing steady, advancing to the next step of the plan.
Where was it again that Bassy last stood?
* * *
Alicia tossed the herbs and lard together in a bowl, mixing it up by hand. Absentmindedly, she wandered to the window, staring into the backyard. She had certainly seen Cyg scurry around doing his own thing, and no doubt Merry had too, but he always came and left with only as much as a book on him. Whatever he was doing must’ve been harmless enough—or so was the expected line of thinking.
He asked her to make three wooden buckets for some unexplained reason and left for the study afterward. The apprentice tried asking why, but Cyg refused to answer as always. What could it possibly be for? She wondered as she stuffed the cleaned bird full of the mixture, tying it close with twine.
“This should be good enough,” she murmured to herself and thoroughly washed her hands, and when she was done, she lifted Bassy's treat with her Aspect and carried it outside. When she believed she was far enough out, she lowered it onto the ground so as to not tire herself unnecessarily. “Bassy!” she yelled out, “Your treat is ready! Come and get it!”
The elf watched as after a minute, a large black blur came into appearance, slipping around trees as it galloped in her direction. Seeing that as her cue, she lifted the thing up again—and found something was off. For some reason, her mana was refusing to reach the center, pushing back in a way very reminiscent of living material.
“What the...?”
Before Alicia could think anything else of it, the basilisk was already close enough that she could see the insides of its mouth, and the beast's excitement overrode any of her nascent doubts. She lifted it into the air, tossed it into its mouth, and watched as it slammed its jaw down—right when Cyg collapsed his mana encircling the bomb at the center. It was no ordinary one either—he’d jammed it full of nails and jagged metal bits, torn and malformed from a lantern he had taken down and smashed.
First came the fire, a burst of light and heat that plumed out of its mouth in a foul blast of red and black—then came the bits of charred flesh and bone hacked out with a cry of pain and surprise. Fragments of wood and metal flew at the apprentice as she stumbled back in horror, and that was cut short by what came after.
About a dozen bombs went off at Bassy's back, scattered around the forest line so it could not escape. Most of them missed or failed trigger, but seven or eight of them were close enough to send it flying forward, tumbling in the air and crashing back down with a thunderous slam. Alicia, not close enough to have gotten the full brunt of it but still able to feel the shockwaves, was knocked backwards, head hitting the ground. Her ears rang as she groaned, teeth gritting through the pain as she rolled over and picked herself up. Without hesitation, she began to heal herself, pushing out the odd chunks of lantern that struck her.
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When she looked up, she saw Cyg pushing open the back door with three buckets in hand, staggering out and dropping them down. He was pale and covered in sweat, barely able to walk without toppling over. By now, the chaos had cleared and the bloodied beast was somehow still alive, even if only barely. Its chest heaved slowly and its head was of scorched hide and blood.
“The... The blood,” he managed to get out as he felt the cold of the Sea tear through him, “You have to get the blood in the circle.”
Alicia wove away the fog in her and lifted herself to her feet. Without further prompting, she grabbed all three containers with one Aspect while cutting into Bassy’s neck with the other. “Sorry, Bassy. I'll make it quick,” she said as blood flowed like unsteady rivers.
The seconds passed were filled with anxiousness and impatience. There weren’t any flying witches to be seen, but that could change at any time.
Cyg's chest heaved as he leaned against the beast's side. “Well,” he began, “I thought I’d have the energy to run or something,” the thief said between pained breaths, “But guess all I can do is hope.”
“Hmnn...” The elf could only mumble an affirmation as she continued to fill the last bucket.
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the ground. Away from Bassy, that is—couldn't risk it rolling over and squashing him by some freak chance. “Should I... take off my sigil?” he asked.
Just then she had finished filling it all, sealing up the artery she opened to keep the beast alive just a bit longer. She also tried to close the wounds in its mouth, but it was a horrific mess inside. A bead of sweat ran down her neck as she turned away, lifting the spoils of war with all of her magic. “And risk us going back to the beginning with nothing? Not a chance,” she said, and giving him a weak grin, she added, “If you can make it this far, you better aim for the end too.”
His laugh came out like a wheeze as he watched her hurry into the house, not even bothering to close the back door. “Asking for a lot, huh?”
With severe mana deprivation, even staying conscious took effort. But, he had to stall, lest the witch goes to see what Alicia was doing in the basement before she finishes. Then, as if reality was responding to that idea, a muffled boom went off in the forest, and a small dot shot into the sky, sending birds fluttering and fleeing. The thief watched as that little speck grew larger and larger until it became a full-sized witch that landed in front of him, a large gust of wind billowing outward to ease her descent.
Her eyes went from him to Bassy to the torn-up land all around, and with a look of bemusement and frustration, she said, “Okay. Why?”
“Just a bit of payback,” he answered, grinning.
She waited a moment, expecting some kind of elaboration, and after receiving none she crossed her arms. “As far as I know, she hasn't done anything to you. In fact, I haven't even seen her interact with you this whole time.”
Cyg shrugged. “It looked at me funny.”
Calmly, she walked over and touched the thief’s leg—it bulged and twisted and burst into pockets of vapor, and he let out a winded gasp of pain. Clicking her tongue, Merry asked another question. “Give me one good reason why I should let you live.”
He considered his options carefully for a whole two seconds, pretending to think about it until it seemed the witch was running out of patience. “Don't you want to know how I did it?”
She scanned over the area once more, noting the bits of wood that survived the whole ordeal, then at the house. “You watched from inside where Bassy couldn't sense you, and you set off a trap when she came on by,” she said flatly, “Presumably with explosives made with the help of Alicia, unless you were hiding an Aspect I wasn't aware of.” She then crossed her arms, awaiting a reply.
And with mouth agape, Cyg stared back.
* * *
“Ghhhrr...!”
Alicia clenched her teeth as she dragged all three buckets down into the basement. She had the mana for the task but the exertion was just prolonged, and she settled it all down as gently as she was able to: roughly. Some of the blood sloshed around and sank into the floorboards that were peeled back with her magic.
Underneath the house was a veritable yarn ball of wood and metal bars linked together, buried in desiccated dirt. Everything that directly touched it was pulverized into sand and all liquids were drained instantly when she first powered it; must be the work of a self-preservation part of the circle, Alicia had surmised.
Parts of it were left cleanly exposed, one of them being the mana container—a cylinder of pure mythril the size of her head. Mustering what little strength she had left, she dragged one of the buckets over and tipped it slowly, a small river of red then splashing down.
The effect was imperceptible, the blood sliding off with no visual change. In truth, anything that touched the mythril was drained of its mana. It wasn't instantaneous, meaning she couldn't tip the whole thing over all at once, but that did allow her to feed it with her own mana in the years prior. If she had the time, she would've set up a container around it to flood and empty with a valve. Instead, the fluid sank into the dirt and disappeared, as if there was a sponge underneath to absorb it all. Next time, Alicia muttered to herself, she would be far more prepared.
She finished the first bucket, then started on another. Every second that passed felt like an hour, but slowly, the teardrops began to fill up. Two, then five, then nine.
When she brought over the third, the apprentice felt her sigil radiate, and she rolled her sleeve up to see the runes half-lit. The circle now contained a soul, which meant one thing: Merry was coming.
Unable to spare the same time as the previous two, the apprentice started messily dumping in the rest, her heart pounding. She focused on her hearing. Footsteps—upstairs. Disappearing, then reappearing. Step by step, they grow louder. Crisper. Closer. Until Alicia could bear it no longer. What if Merry could stop them and the magic wasn't instantaneous? What if Merry could directly follow them even after the circle activated? What if Alicia destroyed the circle after to stop Merry? Would that interrupt the reset? Too many questions and too few options. There was nothing left to do but hope.
She tipped the bucket over fully and held her heart with her mana, and upon hearing the door swing open, Alicia braced herself and crushed down.
Then, she felt it.
Pulled into the violent abyss, Alicia felt the Sea rush into her very being, filling up what she had so quickly spent before. It came so quickly that it was nauseating, so it was fortunate she had no physical form whose stomach contents could be emptied. And as she lingered, the feeling of raw energy began to tear at her. She had to go.
But, there came a whisper, a sound like noise given shape, carrying only three words:
“Fix the circle.”
— ! —