“You made a breakthrough… by listening to music?” It was hard to tell whether ZEKE was delighted at the prospect of moving forward, or annoyed that his own failure to educate had been so easily circumvented. “Show me.”
Alarion stooped to collect the everwick from where he’d left it. The candle was inert under his initial touch, but soon began to sizzle and spark the moment Sierra put a hand overtop his. From there it took only a second for it to properly catch fire, the flame dancing atop the everwick in a small sign of victory.
The machine seemed unimpressed. “Hmm. Can you explain your process?”
“I think so.” Alarion let the magic go, and the candle blew out with it. Then he focused inward once more. He pushed and the candle sparked, then died out. “This is what I was doing before. I kept trying to force the issue, but it was like throwing something up from the hip and trying to catch it around the shoulder, I wasn’t fast enough to stabilize the magic once it was outside of my body.”
With that, Alarion adjusted his mindset. He pushed, then pulled. Pushed, then pulled. The iterations were quick, like the vibrations of Sierra’s strings.
“Instead of trying to force it, I just sort of… wiggle it?” From the shift in ZEKE’s posture, the answer was wholly unsatisfying. “When I fought the dragon, or the Duke, I noticed a sort of… flow to the fight. A give and take, an ebb and flow. I apply the same concept here and-”
The candle roared to life, punctuating Alarion’s sentence better than any words the young man would have been able to conjure.
“Not exactly what we were hoping for.” ZEKE remarked. “It’s slower than I’d like, but with practice perhaps we can get that time down to something more reasonable. Still, it is an improvement. If you’re ready, we can proceed to the next phase.”
Alarion sent Sierra a sidelong glance. She shrugged in response, and the word ‘yes’ was on the tip of his tongue when his stomach spoke for him in the form of a terrible grumble.
“Breakfast first.” The Steelborn suggested.
One hour and a considerable meal later, they had reconvened in the training yard. Sierra and Elena sat off to one side, watching from the shade while ZEKE and Alarion cooked under the sun on what was expected to be a very hot day.
“You’ll need this.” ZEKE said before tossing an item in Alarion’s direction.
The young man snatched the object out of the air with the sort of dexterity that would have been unimaginable only weeks earlier. Clearly ZEKE had counted on either his AGI or his END, given that he’d thrown a knife at him.
The blade was small and diamond shaped. Thicker at its midpoint than he was used to, it thinned down to a hilt that was little more than a stem wrapped in violet cloth, with a hollow triangular base. Curiously the weapon was dark iron rather than the polished steel he was used to from Vitrian equipment, its dull surface engraved with silvered markings along each blade edge.
“A dagger? Really?”
“Making anything your preferred size would have taken too long. “ ZEKE shot back defensively. “The House of Hunger prefers martial tools and I anticipated you would fuss if I handed you a wand.”
He wasn’t wrong, but Alarion still glared anyway.
“It isn’t meant as a weapon, in any case. Wrought iron is much too brittle, even with reinforcement, and the inscriptions are easily damaged. If you use it as a knife in an emergency, you’ll have to replace it.”
“So this carries a spell formula?” ZEKE nodded and Alarion inspected the weapon more closely as a result. The silver markings were a repeating pattern, seven different symbols that cycled back on themselves over and over around the weapon’s edge.
They’d discussed spell formulas in detail over the last week of training, and while Alarion was nowhere near fluent in even the basics of how or why they functioned, he was able to recognize at least a few basic symbols. Void. Offensive. Projection.
Alarion’s face proved easier for ZEKE to read. Specifically, his displeasure. “Yes, Alarion, we are starting with Void.”
The young man looked up from the blade with a full fledged scowl and a question on his lips. “Why?”
“Plenty of reasons, not the least of which is to disabuse you of your discomfort with the affinity.”
Alarion had made clear from his first experience with Elena’s [Void Arena] that he did not like void magic, even if he’d abide it. But enduring it was one thing, casting it himself, quite another.
“More practically, you desperately need a ranged attack,” ZEKE continued. “Sun and Time are capable of such spells, but the ones they could produce are ill suited to training or to your direct nature. So we’re using Void.”
There was an argument behind the boy’s eyes as they met and held ZEKE’s for several long seconds. But it was an argument he knew he’d lose. Instead he looked away and began idly flipping the new weapon in his hand. “How do we start?”
The machine was momentarily surprised by Alarion’s acquiescence, but quickly smothered the shock as he pointed to a sloped wall of the valley that was utterly riddled with cracks, impact craters and gashes. “First we’ll focus on simply casting the spell. Once you can comfortably do that, we’ll escalate to casting time, precision and intensity. Are you ready?”
Alarion nodded.
“Then follow my lead precisely.” A dagger appeared in ZEKE’s right hand, seemingly from nowhere, and the Steelborn wiggled it slightly to draw Alarion’s attention. “Focus on your implement. Charge it.”
The youth looked down at the dagger in his own hand, then focused inward. He shifted his energy in that now familiar give and take, until he felt it stabilize outside his body. The moment it did, the dagger began to drink deeply of his magic. It filled in a matter of moments, which in turn caused a small black spot to appear just above the bladed point.
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“Good,” ZEKE said. Then he thrust his arm out, as if stabbing an invisible opponent in the opposite shoulder. “Now pierce.”
Alarion followed suit and felt an unfamiliar resistance in the air. The dagger had pierced the miniscule black spot, its tip somehow buried inside the magic.
“Cut.” ZEKE instructed as he swiped his blade to the right. Alarion followed suit, and a razor thin line of darkness followed along behind the motion, a shadow that somehow lingered in the air beneath a full morning sun.
Finally, the steelborn withdrew his dagger with a flourish. “And release.”
Alarion mirrored ZEKE.
Then the spell exploded in his face.
“Are you alright?”
Alarion could not recall having struck the ground, but with ZEKE looming over him, he clearly must have. Anger welled within him and the Steelborn was quick to plan a foot on his chest to stop the young man from rising in haste.
“Stop. You were not tricked, or set up to fail. If you’d followed my motions, you would have succeeded. You simply failed.” ZEKE was quick to chide Alarion, knowing full well how the boy’s temper could get away from him when he felt betrayed. “Your attempt was good, most of the mana still dispersed away from you. But are you alright?”
“I think so,” Alarion drew a deep breath to calm himself as he quickly reviewed his status. Twenty-two HP, he’d done more damage to his ego than to his HP. “Yes.”
“Good.” ZEKE offered him a hand. “What was the total MP cost of your attempt?”
Another glance at his status gave Alarion the answer. “About a quarter.”
“So we can try four or five times an hour, even with you overcharging. Not too bad.”
The young man cocked his head. “Why so few?”
“Well you can practice the motions between casts, but if you run out of MP, there is nothing to practice with.”
“I do not think I am going to run out.” Alarion said flatly.
ZEKE shifted with annoyance. Despite the significant holes in his education, Alarion had never asked a truly stupid question of ZEKE. Yes, some had been basic, but the boy had been refreshingly talented in his ability to intuit solutions once he had enough information to draw a proper conclusion. So why was he being so dense?
Unless he wasn’t?
Alarion started to press the issue, but ZEKE promptly shushed him in favor of a quick casting of [Display Status].
> General Information
>
> Name - Alarion
> Species - Human
> Sex - Male
> Age – Fifteen Years
> HP – 766/788
> MP – 376/376
> Stamina – 433/433
> Aptitude - 238%
> UCL – 58
>
> Attributes
>
> STR – 228
> AGI - 172
> VIT – 197
> INT – 126
> PER – 195
> WIL – 136
> LUK – 918
>
> Classes Known
>
> Orphan - Level 12 - Progress – 6%
> Survivor - Level 1 - Progress - MAX
> Stubborn Swordsman – Level 22 – Progress - 42%
>
> General Skills Known
>
> Stealth - Level 3 - Progress – 92%
> Detection - Level 4 - Progress - 19%
> Thrown Weapon Mastery - Level 9 - Progress – 42%
> Oversized Weapon Mastery – Level 2 – Progress 21%
> Lockpicking - Level 3 - Progress 91%
>
> Class Skills Known
>
> Survivor’s Endurance – Level 7 – Progress 17%
> Self-Motivated – Level 5 – Progress - 39%
> Pig-Headed Resilience - Level 4 - Progress 13%
> The Best Offence is a Good Offense - Level 1 - Progress 69%
> Lucky Strike - Level 1 - Progress 0%
> Fight Through The Pain - Level 1 - Progress 0%
>
> Traits and Feats of Strength
>
> Avian Bane - Rank I
> Soulless Bane - Rank I
>
> Flaws
>
> Shattered Mana Circuits – Major
> Unknown – Moderate
> Single-Minded– Minor (Focus: Stubborn Swordsman)
Sure enough, his MP was full. Which made no sense.
“Alarion, make another attempt please,” ZEKE insisted.
He gave ZEKE a curious look, then shrugged as he repeated the motions. Focus. Pierce. Cut. Withdraw. All to a similar result, as the spell detonated a few inches ahead of the knife in his hand. To his credit, Alarion remained standing through this explosion through a combination of preparation, stubbornness and a less violent spell failure.
Not that ZEKE was looking. The Steelborn was focused intently on Alarion’s status screen, watching as his MP ticked up steadily at nearly one point per second. Even Sierra and Elena had stopped their conversation and were watching intently.
“Something is wrong?” Alarion asked.
“Not exactly,” ZEKE raised a finger to absently point at the MP Regen numbers next to Alarion’s MP. “It should take you nearly a quarter of an hour to regenerate this much MP, but instead it is taking less than a minute. That is odd. Good. But odd.”
“Something to do with my flaw?”
“Undoubtably. But how?” A soft tink-tink-tink resounded as ZEKE tapped a finger against his chin. “Perhaps the circuits themselves aren’t fully broken. Only the gates.”
“Gates?”
“Alarion, have you had a headache since you have been here?” Elena inquired as she moved to join the discussion, ignoring his question entirely.
“No."
The answer caused ZEKE to look at Alarion more closely. “Alarion, this is serious. We are not asking you to be stoic.”
“I have not felt anything.” He replied honestly.
“Broken gates would explain it,” Elena mused as though Alarion was not even present. “There would be no difference in pressure to cause one.”
“You may be right!” ZEKE nodded excitedly. “All together it would explain his inability to channel, the lack of discomfort and his startling regeneration. If you’re correct there are so many-”
“ZEKE.” Alarion interrupted, his tone demanding an explanation.
“Apologies. I am just… this changes things, somewhat.” ZEKE gathered his thoughts and continued before Alarion could complain further. “Your mana circuits are composed of three structures. Gates, Pathways and the Source. We were working under the mistaken belief that your pathways and gates were both damaged, but if it is only your gates… they could just be locked open.”
> You have gained insight into your flaw!
>
> Splintered Mana Gates
>
> Description: Whether through birth defect, attack or neglect, your Mana Gates have been permanently damaged beyond repair. Held permanently open, your ability to project your mana and restrict its flow has been forever stripped from you.
> Requirements: None.
> Type: Flaw, Passive.
> Severity: Major
> Effect: You are incapable of voluntarily externalizing your mana. You are unable to use any skills, items or spells that require MP to be channeled to an external source. Items that automatically drain mana will drain the maximum amount possible on contact. Your body will acclimate to local ambient mana conditions. You are extremely vulnerable to abilities that siphon mana.
“My flaw just-”
“I see it.” ZEKE cut him off, reading over the new description on the visible status screen. “This isn’t unusual, the System is loathe to give more information than necessary. Now that there is more information, it is willing to be more specific.”
“It looks mostly the same.” Alarion noted.
“It is mostly the same. It only added those last two sentences,” said Elena. “Mana siphon abilities are rare, so I would not worry overly about that. But the ambient mana clause will be troublesome.”
“I do not really understand it.” Alarion frowned.
ZEKE thought for a moment, searching for a good example before he began. “Imagine mana as water, and yourself as a container. You always have some MP within you, but if you’re thrown into an ocean, or in this case an area with high ambient mana you will always be full. Even if you use some MP, you will regenerate it within moments. Conversely, if you are put in an area of extremely low magical energy, you will equalize downwards, bleeding out most or possibly even all of your MP.”
“Ah.” Alarion’s brow furrowed as a thought occurred. “Does that mean it will get worse as my MP pool grows?”
“Eventually.” ZEKE nodded gravely. “At Rank III or IV you will likely be too strong to live in normal ambient magic without penalty. But that is a long way off, and there are things I suspect you could do to mitigate it.”
“Mm.”
“Stay away from low magic zones, like the Old City and you should be fine,” Elena reassured. “In the meantime, this is nothing but a boon.”
“For you, perhaps. I will need to revise his training regimen yet again.”