“Your hands are cold.”

“Will you please shut the fuck up?” Trying to move another person’s mana was proving to be nearly impossible, despite the easy mode of being able to see what he was working with. Zahn only knew his own mana circulation system by feel, but getting unfettered access to another caster’s mana core was proving invaluable to his understanding of his own magic system. The only issue stalling his project and the apparently endless source of the Warlock’s amusement was the lowbie’s first attempt to access the other man’s back through his armor proving pointless. It took the blonde stripping off his chest armor and shirt entirely and letting the Custom poke and prod at his spine in order for the lowbie to be able to access the intricate network of lights and colors he could see growing in the other man’s back.

“Is it supposed to be this sexual? You’re just feeling me. At least give me a massage while you’re back there.”

Growling at the endless commentary Zahn stabbed at the high-tier skin with a mana filled finger, sending a small pulse of his own mana to invade the other system and incite a reaction. The higher level squawked and flailed in his efforts to scratch at his own back before Zahn slapped his questing hands away.

“The more you distract me the harder this will be.”

“Ooh, not the first time I’ve heard that - waawk! Fine!”

Stabbing the same spot again seemed to have better results at encouraging behavior, and the small bruise forming on location gave the Custom a sense of satisfaction. Mana charging my hands is enough to damage you, then? I should be amping my punches out on the sands. Starting the process again, Zahn focused on the brightest set of colors glowing under the other man’s skin. In the Warlock’s spine sat a glowing blue and white marble, smaller than his thumb. From the marble stretched an array of wide roots bringing blue colors with white streaks up his neck and down his back, stretching in each direction like roots. The threads ran down the man’s arms and legs, ending out the bottom of his feet and past the center of his palms. The threads that extended upwards wrapped themselves into a basket that gently grasped his brain, and wrapped into a braided weave as it enveloped his brain stem.

“Does your familiar have to hear you speak, or can you command it non-verbally?” Trying to incite a reaction out of the colorful network was proving to be difficult beyond what Zahn was expecting from his mana initiation in the classroom and he wanted to focus Ethan’s rambling. “Normally, anyways. Before Reginald the dickhead cooked the thing.”

“His name was Iengoris,” the blonde’s quiet voice had lost his cheerful teasing. “I didn’t really need to explain what I wanted, my intentions were pretty well understood.”

The Custom nodded, prodding at the back of his neck with a mana-charged finger. The network didn’t move, but trying to place a packet of his own mana in the other man’s body was looking bleak. He tried extending the mana beyond his fingertip, tightening the width and tapering the blue energy to a point like a nail sans hammer. Carefully positioning the magical pin near the blue ball, he aimed for a section between the thicker blue roots and stabbed down, feeling a resistance slide against him like soap. The wobbling increased until he felt a snag, and looking down he found the pocket at the edge of the other mana shapes and the colors beginning to fill with light.

Stabbing the needle of pointed mana into Ethan’s back had finally caused a reaction, igniting a flickering light within the man’s blue marble and sending the brightening color down its pathways.

“Woah. Am I bleeding? Everything feels… warm?” He tried to look back over his shoulder but Zahn silently dropped his free hand on the man’s face.

“Ssshhhh, working,” he whispered as he sent more mana into his eyes and bent to task.

As the Mana Sight ability kicked in at its highest gear, he glanced over at his mana bar and saw it was flickering at the end but refilling instantly. Maybe he’s right to be so envious. Turning his eyes back to his victim, the Custom examined the results of holding the mana spike in the other man’s back so long. His mana Core was visible, a beautiful shining pearl of silver and white streaks and whorls against a perfect sphere of blue scattered across the spectrum making up the pigment. For a long breath the Player stared transfixed at the sight and color, the pulsing mana streaming outwards in each direction from the etched lines and pockets of light.

His momentary doze was broken with Ethan biting at the other hand, snapping the lowbie back to the present and pushing the man’s head down as he worked. The mana flowing from his intrusion was successfully repelling his own, the layer he’d found a catch in once again feeling rubbery and slippery. Zahn pulled the spike up the man’s back, drawing it up his spine and towards the network around his gray matter. Blue lights and warmth followed, chasing after the spike like guardian dogs fending off invading squirrels.

Reaching Ethan’s head, the Custom walked around the prone stripped Gladiator and traced the mana spike up his skull carefully monitoring the mana packet chasing his touch.

“So, please don’t kill me with that. I’m not in a match, and I can’t open a stone wall.”

Rolling his eyes, the lowbie saw a flicker of color on the other side of their door. A mass of thin enchantments in various colors, interlocking and wrapping around their host as he leaned against the wall outside. Turning back to his friend, Zahn leaned close to whisper. “Looks like the Shaman is outside, so stop talking.”

Ethan’s head muscles tensed as he grinned into the couch. “Aaaahhhwww! You do me so dirty!” He kicked his heels and bucked his legs against the seat rhythmically, causing a creaking and thumping to echo around the common room while Zahn tried to keep the mana nail steady.

“If you don’t stop moving I’ll shove this in you outta spite!”

The Warlock froze as he tried to stifle giggling erupting beneath his arms. Growling at the ceiling and trying to breathe deeply, Zahn bent back to task against the wiggling ‘lock. “Tilt your head up, asshole. It’s going in your eyes.”

Ethan’s lids opened wide as his jaw popped open in shock. “Jesus dude joke’s over don’t-”

Zahn split the needle of mana with a thought and dragged the cloud down his forehead into the man’s eyes, charging the delicate organs with mana for the first time. He saw the normal eyeballs fill with blue light before the organ parts began to fill with power and gain lines and sigils. The center expanded into a pool of black before retracting to the smallest pinprick, leaving behind a darker blue residue of the area it used like a tide staining the sands. The green colors of his iris began to shine, taking on a light of their own that reflected the facets of an emerald and the shimmering of mica before the lines between the different hues of grass took on blue lights overlaying his eyes, the lines extending towards the edge before falling back to etch themselves against his eye sockets. Behind the deep blue-black pupil mana collected like a puddle or the bottom of a deep well, rippling and reflecting back light and darkness in equal amounts as he stared into them. The whites of Ethan’s eyes began to stain blue, before the brightness of his mana began to shine from somewhere behind his irises giving the blue-stained sides an aura glow.

Leaning back from his creation, Zahn tried to take in the glowing, carved lines, color changing, and eerie backlit glow of those haunting green circles. Ethan sat up slowly, leaning on his heels as he stared up and around. He gazed around the room and rested on the Custom twice before looking out at the Shaman outside and staring around the room again.

“Is this… how you normally see?” His jokes were gone, a reverent awe filling his voice for the first time since they’d met. “This is… I don’t even know. I can’t make sense of anything I’m seeing, it’s just lights, colors, shapes, letters. What language is this even in?”

“Magi. That’s the written language of magic, and you’re seeing mana being tuned to the different elements in order to obey the runes and sigils of Magi.” Zahn tried to ease him into it, knowing the sights were beyond a headache when they first happened. “Normally, a caster uses something like their Grimoire to cast a spell and that’s where the spellform lives. They just spend mana to cast it, activating something already set up in their books. Or on weapons, like the summoned ones.”

“You don’t have to tell me how Grimoires work, dude. You didn’t even know about binding one until earlier.” Staring again at the Custom, Ethan stood and wobbled his way around the couch. “I kind of hate you again, just saying.”

Zahn stood to match him, weary of sudden combat but not exactly expecting to live if it came to blows. “What for now? I just spent effort giving you something of mine.”

Ethan poked at the Custom’s chest, grumbling under his breath before straightening up again. “Your mana-gen, it’s stupid. Even if I hadn’t seen your stats I could tell from this, you’re a fucking neon lamp. Your entire body is just filled with mana, everything from your feet to your organs, you’re just, saturated. You got this nugget of ultramarine in your chest and it’s got these whiskers going fucking everywhere. And if I might ask, why are you pink and purple?”

The lowbie blinked at the question, trying to understand the context. “What’s ultramarine?”

“It’s a shade of blue, neanderthal. Answer me, why is your head purple and why is your neck pink?”

Looking down at himself, Zahn tried to bring up the colors but his magic vision didn’t show him any color coming out of himself. Looking back up at Ethan with an eyebrow askew, he got a level stare back. “Dunno mate, tell me what you see and maybe I can explain it.”

“No, maybe I can. Cast something for me.” The Warlock’s gaze turned into a squint, his eyes glowing brightly behind his lids.

Shrugging, Zahn turned and spat a wad of fire into the hearth, heating up a number of coals that crackled pleasantly. Ethan cackled, the blonde’s grin splitting wide.

“Your pink is fire! And FYI, I don’t think you quite understand what you’re doing right there. Did you know about the brain stuff?”

Sitting back on the couch, Zahn tried to give his best skeptical glare. “You’re not making any sense. First you don’t know what’s going on, and one spell later you’re an expert on my brain? I’m the one with Psychic here!”

Ethan snapped his fingers, sitting on the couch opposite. “Exactly. Your brain is full of purple mana, right now. Must be Psychic! You said before, you learned that one first right?”

Zahn scowled at the memory, “I wouldn’t say ‘learned’ it was more like ‘given mind rape’ than anything. I won a Mind Battle with some horselord burning that village we were talking about, and when I won he slumped and I got the ability. Now I can’t make eye contact for ten seconds, yay me.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The ‘lock chuckled when he’d finished, “Really? I just thought you were the nervous type. Don’t give me that glare, I’m proud of you for having that kind of self-restraint. Gods know I’d abuse it, I’d challenge a certain someone to a staring contest over all my points…” He trailed off with a dark giggle before he looked back at Zahn staring at him. “Right. So, you never turned it off. It’s been on since day one, or maybe two depending if you count the Tutorial. Some don’t.”

The lowbie looked through his Grimoire’s very limited pages on Psychic, flipping it back and forth finding nothing about the topic. “Are you sure?”

The blonde’s wide grin was rather unsettling beneath the glowing eyes, “Positive. When you spat that, you sent mana up threads into your brain, a purple glow went off, then the same mana went down different threads to meet more power at your neck that made the pink glow go off, and then you spat out a complex Fire spell that takes five seconds to cast.”

Zahn’s jaw sagged during the run-on lecture, but nothing he knew about his own mana contradicted him. “Okay, but why? I mean, why would my mana need to go to my brain and get a dose of Psychic just to cast a Fire spell? And besides that, what do you mean ‘five second cast’?”

Ethan rolled his eyes and summoned his own Grimoire, the red-wrapped book hovering in the air. “Not all my magic is gone without my minion, it’s just stupid-weak and hard to do. But, I can cast a first-ranked spell fairly easily, it’s only been some one eighty years since I learned it.”

“You look so young for an old fuck,” came Zahn’s deadpan reply.

Ethan extended both middle fingers as he flipped through his book’s pages, “In case nobody told you, earning experience keeps you young. I’ve been de-leveled by a tier once on purpose, and losing my group meant I had to rebuild from scratch. When that took too long I tried Dungeon diving, and you know how that adventure ended. Here it is.” Spreading his hand on a red page, the Warlock pointed dramatically with his other. His index finger bent crooked down at the hearth, with his thumb matching the angle and the other digits bent towards his palm without touching. “Fire, Spit!”

As he intoned his spell, Zahn saw the page in his book flare with red and orange light. The spellform rippled even through the back as energy left the parchment in a wave from top to bottom and filled the design as it changed the nature of the mana. As the spellform’s shape wrapped around itself a final time the energy-turned-spell rocketed up Ethan’s arm, travelling along his bones as it crossed his shoulders before sliding back down his right hand to spew a pebble of flame into the hearth no bigger than a candle wick.

“See? That’s what Fire Spit looks like. You hock… something else. I kinda hate you again, no offense.”

Ignoring the antics, Zahn tried to put the new information into context. He’d only been able to cast the spell after Master Orinoth had tried teaching it to the class, as per his Custom native ability. He’d cast the spell from his mouth because of the fire pepper. “Hey, what about Fire Peppers? Do they have a special version of the spell, or maybe a natural variant that uses their oils?”

Ethan scoffed, “You mean the things used in Fire initiation? No way. At best the stuff is good for early mana conversion to Fire. I think there’s a few schools that use it to light lamps, because it turns mana into Fire mana? What would it have to do with you anyways, there’s no oils here.”

“No no,” he tried to wave the objection away. “When I learned the spell from a Master, I had the oil in my throat already. I’d tried eating one, and got it on my hand too when I spat it out. Maybe the spell was altered by the oil, and that’s just how I learned it?”

The blonde shook his head again, thinking out loud. “No, once you respawned once there was no oil. You literally come back clean and fresh, not even dirty or stained. Anything you had on you is long gone, and the only thing I can think of is you’ve been keeping the effects around manually.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” the lowbie returned. “I wouldn't even know how to begin with.”

Ethan looked back at him, “No, but it would make sense about the Psychic thing. You’ve never turned it off, just turned it down. Do you hear voices right now?”

Trying to keep his temper, Zahn huffed a breath and closed his eyes. He could faintly hear the clash of fighters, some curses and barks of clanging weapons. Opening them again he looked up at the blonde, “Nothing. Just some noise from the arena.”

He chuckled, a smirk returning. “Excuse me? You can hear Gladiators through solid fire pine that’s been magically sealed against entry? You think I can hear anything outside of this room? Try again, focus on that ‘arena noise’ wise guy.”

Biting his lip and taking another deep breath, Zahn once again closed his eyes and tried to ignore the mana-filled shape he could still see before him. The noise was distant, almost like an echo. He could hear something, a word half-spoken or maybe a shout in another language. What is that? Whose voice is that? Why do I- suddenly the sounds became louder, focused. Chanting, ominous and deep in the background. Thuds against the floor, the echo nearly reverberating through his feet. A lighter voice speaking, halting, rising and falling, reading from something. Very near, just behind his ears came a choked sob, an echo of a plea. Someone begging.

“Woah.”

Ethan’s voice was echoed by another, sounding just like him. What the fuck?

Zahn opened his eyes, the sudden movement sending Ethan jumping backwards and scrambling and trying to stay upright in his flight as they locked wide stares. The world sat tinted, everything overlaid in layers of purple and gray with pockets of color pulsing somewhere off to the right. Ethan’s body looked strange, its beautiful blue network dulled and a meatloaf glowing violet sat behind his bright green eyes.

“Please don’t.” The Warlock’s eyes were filling with saline without obvious reason, enough to give Zahn pause.

“Don’t what?” His voice echoed, resounding off himself as he heard his own question through his victim’s ears and even fainter version from behind thick wood. Zahn sat back, leaning away from Ethan as he looked left and right, down at himself before back up at the ‘lock with a confused gaze. “What the fuck?” Echoing the unasked question, the Player tried to make sense of his apparent Psychic power.

As the lilac-glowing skull leaned away, Ethan finally gasped a sigh of relief and was able to break eye contact. Through his new Mana Sight ability he’d been able to see the exact moment when Zahn’s brain exploded in color, the shades and swirls of purple magic mesmerizing until he’d opened his eyes. The Gladiator had finally gotten used to seeing the blue lines and glowing, had even obtained the same power himself, but when he opened and displayed bright purple donuts against a black background, vibrating with each twitch and glimmering with white flickers the caster nearly shat himself. Rolling off the couch and onto his hands and knees, the Warlock shuffled his way around the hearth and tried to make for his room. Maybe if he could get his casting gear, raise up his mental stats-

“I’m not going to fight you with Psychic man, that’s stupid.” Zahn’s voice continued to echo as he spoke through the magical empowerment. “Besides the point, I have no reason to. Sit back down, we’re talking about magic.” Ethan stood, his body only faintly fighting the command. With his voice so thoroughly soaked in Psychic-type mana, giving simple reasonable commands was well within the lowbie’s grasp. He saw the ripple of power settle around his victim’s mind like a ring before the Warlock obeyed, and felt a stab of annoyance. Can’t even resist that one?

Ethan looked up sharply, offended and apparently able to hear him. “I’m not even wearing armor and you’re pulling out full fucking mind control!”

“How would armor even help you with magic anyways? Hang on,” Zahn squeezed his eyes tight and twisted his head side to side, trying to shake the omnipresent psychic pressure. The longer he held his empowered state the stronger the pressure became, seeming like the oceanic force on deep divers pressing against his very thoughts as he heard faint whispers echo towards him from across the map. Trying to dismiss the enchantment was a struggle, the energy unwilling to leave its host and feeling like a thick lump filling an important section of his throat. With a final thrash and swallow he felt a dam burst inside and the energy flowed downwards, leaving his mind and draining his will to stay awake as much as it dampened the clatter of external thoughts. Zahn fell back against the couch, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to stay awake after the drain. His mana bar hovered at around a third before it began to climb back up.

“Well, thanks. It’s kind of cool seeing a magic effect being dismissed like that, but your Psychic brain cloud is still there. How do you feel?” Ethan’s voice sounded concerned, but Zahn couldn’t remember why they’d stopped talking.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tried to focus his tired gaze on the Warlock. “What? Sleepy. So, mana eyes works on you then?” He nearly slipped from his perch but caught himself on his chin.

He missed the moment when it happened, but a blink later the Warlock had stood and begun to fuss with the big pot, stirring up something that smelled heavenly. Zahn leaned back against the couch again, and for a time knew nothing at all.

* * * * *

Kneeling on the soft rug, she felt her throat rasp with each breath as the Cleric struggled to keep hold of her ragged sanity. Her hair hung long, obscuring her view of everything outside the blessedly soft furnishing she’d only just struggled up from. The last wave was particularly bad, radiating over her like thunder and sunlight smashing through the sky and burning through any crack in her armor. The voice and echo had long ago stopped making any sense or logic, and had been rampaging through her mind without reason or mercy for weeks. She struggled up from her elbows, arms shaking as her hands pushed her upwards. Finally, a break long enough for her to move. The endless tide of pressure eased, a ripple and wave away from crushing her mind again and simply sliding away like greased flatcakes.

Standing on shaky legs, Sasha San Licht wiped vomit from the side of her mouth as she struggled her way to the wash basin. She’d been given a mirror when it started, but the glass had long since shattered under the psychic weight and servants had been sent in to pluck the shards from her precious rug. She scrubbed at herself over the low bowl, washing away hours of sweat and bile from her latest torture. Plucking at her limp silken undershirt she retrieved a fresh robe from her bag and slipped into it just as a knock sounded at her door.

“Coming,” she croaked at the noise before it unlocked and opened without her. Collapsing onto her cushioned stool, the powerful light Cleric scowled at whoever’s terrible manners as a strange man strode into her private chambers as if he owned the place. The oddity dressed himself in a wrapped sheet like a toga from the Romani Era, and even decked his head in some yellow vine of a crown.

The stranger sniffed at her dark and stained room before striding over to the tired woman and settling on the divan facing her. He silently studied the blonde girl for a long moment, his gaze tracing lines through her robe before he finally settled on her face.

“So, you’re it are you?” His voice was soft, even silky as he spoke quietly though his words seemed cold against the obvious warmth of their speaker.

“What do you mean?” Sasha’s own croak seemed rough and improper, and she had to keep herself from blushing before him. Who the fuck is this guy? Some high-level Bard? She tried to keep herself calm but his very presence exuded a faint smell of woodsmoke and cinnamon, orange slices and fresh grass that sent her focus swaying.

“You’re the little Player’s whore who caught herself some Psychic magic without a framework to handle it. You’re losing your little mind, aren’t you Cleric?” Though his rich timbre still made her skin prickle, she was able to tell herself it was trepidation at how he was treating her.

“I don’t know what you’re-”

Before she could fully object, he held up a palm to silence her. “Enough. You asked for help, and here I am. Are you really going to rebuke the goodwill of The Church, little girl?”

She looked down, trying to choke down her anger at the dismissal. “No, I’m sorry.” He forced a hand under her chin and brought her up to face him. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted his other hand up to ignite a golden cube of light resting on his palm. The cube flickered and glowed with its own internal dance of lights, the complex shape containing spheres and circles and intricate weavings of jagged lines she couldn’t begin to make sense of.

The strange man held up the magic, displaying it before her eyes for several long seconds before finally releasing her face. “You’re not the first one to take a magic you aren’t supposed to. Luckily you have a friend in these halls, a certain Cleric informed us your affliction was Psychic in nature and they sent me. Take this package for your HUD,” he waved the offering before her like dessert before the starving, “and you will take our help with it.”

Sasha licked her lips, staring at the prize being so freely offered at her lowest point. “What’s the catch?” Struggling to look away, she finally found herself drowning in his eyes instead of his magic. “Who are you?”

His smile stretched across his face, never reaching those eyes. “That doesn’t matter. And you shouldn’t mind, Cleric, you already belong to The Church.”