The carriage rocked slightly as one of its wheels met on particularly protruding rock. Sahro's head bobbled to the side with a light snore, the Black Heir sleeping comfortably with his arm wrapped around his curved sword. Javier was, as always, silently staring at Glenn, his dead fish eyes widely opened with empty black pupils.

'...I might have gotten used to it now. I don't know, it just doesn't feel right not having him creeping around,' Glenn thought, his head resting on his closed fist as he looked at their passing surroundings. After signing the contract, Maron had ordered the camp back to perfection, swiftly reassigning roles and taking back the reigns. After a short but much-needed rest, the convoy swiftly left, not forgetting the Blumar they had managed to find in the quarry.

With Maron's greediness gone, there was no reason for them to stay inside the quarry anymore. They took the road back to King's Rise with cheered-up expressions and sighs of relief. Finally, the merchant's antics were over, and finally, it was time to go home.

'Here we go, the fun is over...' Diamanes sadly commented, making Glenn smirk. The entity continued, trying to cheer itself up, '...It was certainly a nice outing, though. How much time were we gone from King's Rise, exactly? We need to count the time-screwing-thing we had with the Mother too...'

Glenn rubbed his chin, scratching at the ever-growing stubble that threatened to turn into a beard if he didn't take care of it. He didn't have a particularly invasive pilosity, but he needed to shave from time to time too. Well, nothing stopped him from sporting the beard besides personal preferences. Should he try and let it grow...?

'I don't know, it felt like we were gone for ages, but everything happened so fast,' Glenn changed his position, stretching his cramped legs. He moistened his lips, looking at the open sky above him. The convoy had left the Blumar quarry as soon as the sun peeked out from beneath the Earth, aiming to arrive at King's Rise as quickly as possible. If everything goes well, they should arrive tomorrow and only need to have a single break to rest for the night.

'I wonder if we would have been as fast had the carts and carriages been pulled by horses instead of Shard magic,' The young man pondered as he glanced at the driver, one of Lefeivre's workers. The man was holding a rough white crystal in his hands, controlling the cart with the Shard's power.

'Well, it would have probably taken a few more days. Horses are living beings, they need rest, food, and care. But with a Shard-operated carriage, one only needs a bit of Mana or blood. They only need to rotate the drivers every hour and they'd be able to go for days without resting if needs came to be. But Maron is right to go easy on his employees, they deserve it,' Diamanes explained with an expert tone, forcing an acknowledging grunt out of his host.

The young man blew raspberries, bored out of his mind, taking a small meatloaf out of his dimensional pouch. He reflexively looked through the storage, stopping his munching when he realized he had all the necessities to write if he needed to. Glenn frowned, taking a piece of paper and a small wooden board to serve as support. He glanced at the feather pen, wincing before dipping it into a small ink bottle. He chased a fly away with the back of his hand, before squinting and concentrating on the paper. They were still in the forest, and a slightly more wild part of it as well, hence the rocky path and the insects' omnipresence.

'I feel like it's time to look back on my current capabilities. Let's quickly see what I'm able to do now and what I can't,' Glenn stuck his tongue out in concentration, the feather scratching lightly against the paper.

- What I can't do:

- Use any spells that aren't Astral Sorcery, which means Magic Barrier, Bullet, and all that. I can't even try creating anything that isn't in my Specialty domain, it wouldn't work.

- ...

Glenn scratched his head, creasing his nose. He shrugged, skipping the can't do part.

'In all honesty, I feel like it's the one thing I can't do. So yeah, I've wasted a bit of time designing my cool spells and all, but the increase in power that comes with Specialty is too much for me to feel pained by that loss,' He parted his lips, continuing his scribbles.

- What I can do: The spells I can use currently:

- Blackhole (my favorite): Large AOE spell that continuously swallows everything on its path as long as I feed it with Mana. Pretty fun to use against a zombie crowd, but lacks true offensive power.

- Implosion: A little underwhelming in terms of offense compared with the stronger spells I came up with, but the first one I created using Astral Sorcery

- Nitrogen Wave: Large AOE for crowd-control, nice if I want to freeze a horde, but I don't see why I wouldn't just use Blackhole in such a situation instead. Useful depending on the circumstances

- Nitrogen Lance: A cold Kamehameha, nothing more, nothing less. The most powerful offensive spell in my collection

- Gravity Manipulation: All-rounded control spell, good at everything.

- Silence Curse: Nice for stealth and shutting annoying people up

- Sun Touch, which is practically a military-grade flashlight imbued in my arm. Useless in combat

Glenn dipped the feather pen in the ink bottle, preparing to write another line, when he realized he had nothing more to add to the list. His eyebrows rose as he racked his brains, but he indeed 'only' had that many spells in his arsenal. Six spells, to be precise.

'...That's not a lot. Does the Spear of Longinus not count?' Diamanes innocently remarked.

'That was a one-time spell that used up a Circle,' Glenn sneered, '...I don't think I'm going to try it again.'

The young man hesitated, before writing a new line.

- What I lack:

- Defense spells

- Spells that aren't going to destroy half my surroundings

- Buffs and heals, but that's only reserved for priests...

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Glenn's feather froze, and he looked at his left hand with a pondering gaze. Technically, divine powers were still powers, and his Nitrogen stuff came from something similar to an evil god. Wait, the Silence Curse even came from one of the Thorn's Church's cultists... Could he perhaps try and take away divine powers? Diamanes mouth suddenly popped in, flashing a shining grin at him before disappearing back the way he came from, his intervention swift and efficient.

'...Alright, I'll take it there should be some things that can be done, then...'

The young man opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it with a sigh.

'I don't even feel like asking you what, since I'm sure you'll reply with "uh, you need to get to the 30th circle or something",' He thought wryly, forcing a gasp of indignation from Diamanes. The entity groaned in displeasure, making a wide smile draw itself on Glenn's face. Diamanes sighed, refusing to comment.

Glenn glanced up at Javier, before summoning his Fixer's knife and slashing his left palm with it, barely frowning at the pain. The blood's metallic scent quickly reached his nostrils, but he had become completely impervious to it. Given the amount of crimson liquid he had been covered in since he came into this world, he couldn't help but get used to the perpetual smell following him. Nothing a good bath couldn't resolve, of course, but in the middle of nowhere, it was hard to find such a luxury.

The Pale Son looked at Glenn's wound emotionlessly. The young man smiled shamelessly and held his wounded hand out, the palm facing the ground to hide it from Javier's sight.

"Javier, my friend, do you mind healing me? I'm trying something out," He asked, hoping the silent hunter wouldn't question him. Well, it wasn't as if the poor guy could ask him anything, but still...

Javier wordlessly grabbed the hand, clenching it violently and crackling Glenn's fingers' bones. The young man winced and forced himself to watch Javier's work closely. There was indeed some kind of strange, dark light coming from the Pale Son's hand, but he couldn't recognize what kind of power it was.

'Whatever that is, you better take it, Diamanes!' He thought painfully, Javier's medicine being not the most pleasant to receive. Diamanes smacked his lips happily.

'~Don't ask me twice! Thanks for the meal!!' A disgusting suction noise echoed through the young man's mind, and he felt the foreign power being sucked inside his body through his left arm. Javier, in a rare incident, abruptly jerked his hand out, looking at it strangely. He frowned, glancing then at Glenn's purple limb, a strange glint shining through his eyes, a light that disappeared as soon as it came to be. Glenn smiled politely toward Javier, holding an urgent, primal need to cuss out loud about the violent treatment he just received.

"...T–Thanks, Javier. You might want to consider trying to be a little more delicate with that therapy of yours..." The young man clenched his teeth, shaking the pain off. Javier crossed his arms, his eyes as wide-opened as always.

'...I kind of feel nervous. So, how did it go, Diamanes–?'

"–Burp!!" A thunderous belch exploded through the air, waking Sahro up and making the carriage's driver turn with an awed expression.

"...The dragon's roar!" he whispered, before focusing back on the road. Glenn clenched his left hand tightly, cursing Diamanes with all the names he could find. The Black Heir looked around with a lost look, the trace of his sword imprinted on his cheek.

"Yawn...Was that the thunder? The sky is empty, though..." Sahro frowned, throwing Glenn a confused glance. The young man raised his hand helplessly, seemingly unable to understand what the Black Heir meant. Sahro snorted, casually looking at the surrounding forest before shrugging and replacing himself comfortably. Glenn smiled awkwardly, trying to not stare back at Javier. The carriage rocked violently as they passed over a particularly sharp rock, knocking Sahro's head against the hardwood. The Black Heir grumbled, trying to change his position and head back into sleep, but the road worsened, shaking the carriage increasingly more violently. The Black Heir cursed through his teeth, rubbing the back of his head as he gave up resting for now.

'...I fucking hate you, Diamanes, I swear to the gods!' He angrily thought, his annoyance growing at the rhythm of Diamanes' mocking laughter.

'Hehe, in any case, it did me good! It's been a while since I've eaten anything, so it warms my heart when you remember you can use my powers,' Diamanes chuckled. Glenn shook his head, indifferent, his mind too interested in the new skill he just stole, took. If it was indeed a healing power, this might become game-changing for him.

'Whatever, just tell me what that power is,' Glenn snapped, his arms crossed tightly.

Diamanes sighed dejectedly.

'Tsk, you're no fun. Well, it's quite a strange ability, to be honest. Hmm...' Diamanes pondered, humming with his thoughts. Glenn patiently waited, opening and closing his left hand repeatedly to get his blood to flow through it better. He casually looked at his palm, his nose creasing when he realized there were no scars whatsoever where there should at least be a mark. This was a very powerful healing skill, able to heal wounds, and broken bones, and even make scars disappear. Some people would kill to get rid of an old cut if they could.

'Hah!' Diamanes suddenly exclaimed with an enlightened tone, '...I know what name I should give this skill!'

Glenn slowly rubbed his face down, tired.

'You took that long to think of a name?' He asked with an annoyed tone, the entity chuckling in reply.

'Yes, it's true. You're going to love it. I've christened it Catalytic Pain Rejuvenation!' declared Diamanes proudly. Glenn inhaled deeply, his head leaning against the edge of the wagon, struggling to hold back the flood of swears that threatened to break through the dam of his lips. He rubbed his eyes, snorting when he realized that the skill name was short for C.P.R.

'You truly have a great sense of humor, Diamanes. I'm dying of laughter...' Glenn jeered, shaking his head dejectedly.

'I know, I know...Let me finish. C.P.R. is exactly what it sounds like! It uses pain as fuel to heal wounds! Incredibly useful, even more if you're in battle, isn't it?'

Glenn waited for the inevitable drawback since it all sounded a little too good to be true. After all, that would mean he just had to turn that skill on and he'd be able to berserk his way through the battles, regenerating more and more as long as he received painful blows.

'...Yeah, indeed, there are conditions. The wound's pain must be doubled to be healed, and it uses Mana at the same time since it's passing through me. Javier doesn't need to use anything but pain, since that skill is entirely his own. Heh, it feels like a power that would be created if Onnea and Epinos worked together unwillingly on the same project. Funny, isn't it?' Diamanes explained, laughing it off. Glenn nodded slightly, a complicated look on his face.

'...That's not an easy skill to use. It does explain why it felt so horrible each time Javier healed me, though.'

Glenn looked at the blue sky above them, his stomach grumbling in hunger. He took out a second meatloaf serving, stuffing his mouth with it. He casually washed it down with a drink of a leather water flask, his attention drawn away when he saw the driver chase away a pestering fly with the back of his hand. His eyes stopped on the luxury carriage leading the convoy from right in front of them.

"...I do have one last question I need answered, though..." He muttered, staring at Maron's carriage. Some things simply didn't add up. If you thought about it, the merchant had suffered strokes of unluckiness one after the other, losing his biggest investment opportunity and half his team, getting tortured by some deranged psychopath, and becoming a strange amalgam of flesh and Blumar that shouldn't be able to even breath.

But each time, Maron survived thanks to unbelievable coincidences. Palancar and its mind hex? Somehow, he wasn't affected by it. Doyle and his limb-ripping torture that would have killed even Glenn? The merchant's heart continued to beat despite the insane blood loss. He gets put into a random experimental vat and gets out of it right next to his convoy's encampment, his body and mind fixed by the capsule.

It can happen once, but twice it starts to become strange, and thrice...

Thrice, it's almost a habitude. And now, when Glenn and Sahro thought more and more about simply getting rid of their debts by getting rid of the merchant, suddenly, as if enlightened by God himself, the merchant gave them a compensation deal that anyone with a sane and insane mind would accept. It was that good of a deal, and truly, Glenn wouldn't have taken anything less than that.

Glenn could put his hand to the fire that there had to be some kind of reason for this abnormal luck, and today, he was going to figure it out.