“Happy birthday,” Moonwash said and handed me a gift. My fourteenth birthday was actually yesterday and she’d also been there to celebrate it.

I took one look at the alleged gift, and immediately snatched it from her arms. I mumbled a quick but loud, “Thank You!” before I ran back inside the house to try it on.

The helmet went over my head, I buckled the strap and stared at the mirror with a big goofy smile on my face. The helmet was round and fit enough to my proportions while still having room for growth. There were wild patterns along it, from ridges and designs made during the smithing process, as well as from the mana repositories embedded within, though most of the latter were on the inside. The crowning jewel of it all was a pair of horns, a magic focus fashioned from the genuine article once attached to a ribburn, a horned frog that controlled fire and healed faster in burning temperatures. It was Angerly’s gift for my previous birthday.

I looked like a genuine demon with my new gear. Moonwash knew me and my sensibilities well enough to make the horns appear like they were sticking out of the helmet and truly attached to my head underneath. An illusion, before it becomes a reality.

I felt the vague presence of the focus already, growing stronger with every passing moment, as if in time with my increased excitement. I pulled on that disembodied magical muscle, and heaved the mana out of the repositories.

Nothing happened.

“Nothing happened!” I repeated, out loud.

Moonwash followed me inside, having taken her time to get here. She heard me loud and clear.

“It’s empty.”

“Ooohh! Right!” I reluctantly took the helmet off and grabbed a wand from my belt. The fire mana was pulled out from it, and then deposited into Moonwash’s new gift.

This was a common process, though there was some loss to it. It was far more economic to have the repositories directly charged by a fountan.

Even my brain, enhanced by my Reincarnator Soul Feat, wasn’t the best at migrating mana. That boost wasn’t really a major one in the grand scheme of things, and it only seemed huge relative to the power levels expected of a sub-level 10 Mutation.

“Done!” I exclaimed after a few long minutes. I was sweating by the end of it, moving mana was an exertion even if I didn’t even activate it.

I strapped the horned helmet back on, and felt the filled repositories shine like an orange beacon in my consciousness. I then willed the roiling fire mana to abandon their locked containers and meet the outside world.

It was slow going at first, but the process became smoother as time passed. It first felt like a well-made prosthetic that just didn’t move quite right, but by constantly shaping and briefly activating the mana, the motions settled into second nature once more.

I completely forgot Moonwash’s presence in the room. She eventually left as I was still in the throes of practice. Days turned to weeks, then months, I ended up taking less excursions outside the walls.

It was all worth it when I felt that I finally hit my current limit, and I collapsed down on the soft grass of our lawn, trimmed and proper, maintained in part by nature magic. The helmet provided me with more than half my typical proficiency in wielding magic, compared to using a wand. It was frankly a ridiculous number, and Moonwash had confirmed with her own tests that anyone else using it would only be able to manage a fourth of their usual at best.

There was compatibility to consider with these things, with magic. And the demonic imagery just screamed my name to the highest of heavens, and the lowest of hells.

Now it’s time to learn how to use magic while also engaged in a swordfight.

I fumbled for my greatsword, and then resumed my relentless practice.

~~~

I was back in the forest with my parents and my full party, after just another week of training. It wasn’t actually that difficult to calibrate my magic to work simultaneously with the sword, as I had already been moving about while using wands, and sometimes even using a shield or a dagger to go along with it!

Although… using my helmet did feel quite a bit different than using a wand. The focus was in a different place, split into two parts, which required a different sort of attention, and I couldn’t point it in a certain direction in the same way to help me in controlling the movements of my mana.

It was nothing I couldn’t handle in the end, and now The Harvesters were once again ready to brave the dangers of this place!

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Therick asked, as I approached a hiding rabbit. The kind with horns.

I rolled my eyes at the obvious joke. A horned rabbit was no threat to me, especially one even weaker than normal if my burgeoning level sense was to be believed.

I called on the fire mana from my helmet, and then burnt the bush that hid my prey. The horned rabbit reacted on instinct, causing the already burning plant to lash out with vines. The move ended up being oddly more effective than it would’ve otherwise been, but I simply swatted the offending vines away, and they burnt themselves out soon after. I was preparing my mana in the meantime, and the retreat of the bunny was cut off by a burst of fire ahead. The animal hesitated like a deer in headlights, and those moments of indecision proved fatal as I dodged over the flaming bush and caught up. Another wave of flames cut off its next path of retreat, and that was the end. The cute little creature was skewered and mutilated by my oversized sword.

“Wow you’re merciless!” Angerly laughed.

“She’s always been like that,” Granuel nodded.

Therick pretended to sob.

Moonwash didn’t say a word. She just crouched near the dead animal, in hopes that it may have survived… Oh wait, nevermind. She’s skinning it. Oh, now she’s gouging out its eyes, dismantling every part for anything that may yet be usable and discarding the rest.

I fought a murdle after that, one of those red violent birds. The fire brought it to a panic, it herded the monster’s movements, and my sword brought the fight to a swift end.

We searched for more prey after that, and I practiced on the weaker ones close to my level whenever we came across them. A bushpider’s bush was set on fire, evidently not as flammable as a real bush, and the rest of the fight went as normal with me whacking on its head and occasionally falling back. Maybe the animal was a little angrier, but it hardly made a difference.

I also got to take on a pack of four wolves by myself, and the flames allowed me to deal more damage as I remained in constant motion to not be caught out. I swiftly killed one by focusing my fire on it, and then going for the kill once it tried to flee. The other three took that as their opportunity to strike, clearly enraged. I couldn’t shift my mana fast enough to meet them, and I took a few nasty claws in my own retreat.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I used my fire magic against another wolf, and then feinted going after him. The wolf took a hasty retreat, during which I charged towards the remaining two, and managed to get a good slash on both of them. I pulled away further, and the uninjured one followed, pulling ahead a bit too far from its brethren and into a position where I could kill it. Fire barred its way, and my sword dug into the torso right after, splitting flesh and breaking bone with a sickening squelch.

One of the other injured wolves had reached me far faster than I thought it would, and I was barely able to raise my arm in time to guard against the bite. Its upper fangs were blocked by my gauntlet, but the ones at the bottom dug deep. I winced but kept moving. Fire splashed on my assailant, and I swung its body towards a nearby tree. My sword followed, ending its life.

One left.

The remaining one was warier, unwilling to let its comrade’s deaths go unavenged, but not wanting to run away either. I briefly considered if this was how wolves acted on Earth, as an animal should have run away by now.

Regardless, it was one more kill if the wolf didn’t run away, and I was closing in on a full set of level 10 Mutations. Real combat should get me there faster, even if the benefit wasn’t always apparent.

I kept my distance, and then shot a fireball at my enemy. The wolf dodged, but not entirely, setting its flank newly alight. I walked closer, and doused it in more fire. I weaved around the trees to keep away as the wolf continued to burn.

My magic failed, my helmet was out of mana. I allowed the wolf to approach then, and a single final slash ended its misery.

We moved on from there after a quick lunch, until Dad gestured for us to stop. My mom walked ahead of the group and approached a green humanoid monster, their skin like one big pile of boils, blisters, and warts.

“A goblin… This could be bad…” I resonated with her words, the creature made me feel uneasy in a very bad way.

“It could just be the one,” Dad supplied.

“There is never just one.” Mom dropped a flaming boulder on the creature. There was a sickening crunch and a splatter, her quarry clearly dead. But Mom was far from satisfied, as she followed it up with a tornado of flames that she swept over the entire area, setting much of the environment on fire, which she had to put out with water.

“A bit excessive, Mom,” I joked. My voice betrayed a nervous tilt.

“No, Haell. You know how goblins are, right?”

“They rape people?” Tales from both this life and another mixed into that accidental utterance.

Mom blinked. She nearly tripped and fell. “I… what? No? I don’t think so? Where the fuck did you even hear that!?”

“Mom! Language!” I burst out laughing. Mom gasped and blocked her mouth with her hands. “I’m kidding, Mom. I think… I might have heard something about that. You know… in the past.”

“Oh. Oh! We'll talk about this later. If you don’t mind, of course. But anyway! The goblins here are definitely not like that! They don’t even have genitals, so why would they… Uhmm, I’ll not mince words, by the way. I think this is important to learn, specially if you’re going to be doing this,” she gestured at the wilderness around us, “as your livelihood. It’s important that you know what you’re up against.”

“Of course, Mom.” There were similar choruses of agreement from the rest of my party.

“Before that. We should leave,” Dad said, and Mom agreed. Our excursion would be cut short it seemed, because they had to report the sighting of a goblin.

“So, goblins!” Mom said cheerily. “They are the most wicked creatures upon the whole surface of Varyala, and I don’t mean that in a figurative or metaphorical way. They literally have a Wicked Heart that produces wicked mana.”

“What does it do exactly?” Moonwash was the one to interrupt. There was an intensity to her gaze.

“It can affect people’s emotions and their perceptions. It can be very similar to curse magic, but more… narrow. It’s also theorized that they can be used to enhance strength and overall power, same with curse magic. And it’s so hard to get more information, because of how rare it is! Well… for a certain definition of rare that is. The cursetecars that plague this stupid empire certainly have it, for a definition of having it. Their bodies are suffused with curse mana, and they have some innate applications of curse magic, but they don’t have a repository for it or even an organ that produces it!”

“I think it’s by the process of infusion,” Moonwash cut in, speaking just as fast. “It typically requires a very long time for something to be infused with magic, but it seems to take a lot less time for curse magic, or those adjacent. We know this by the traces left by large goblin tribes, either through their mere presence, or through alleged goblin rituals.”

“Yes! Yes! That’s exactly it! The cursetecars are a creation, the final creation of the Curse Dragon. The spell stays with them, infused into their very being and somehow passed on to their offspring! The Curse Dragon haunts us to this day, centuries after his death!” she didn’t sound upset by that. Quite the opposite, even. “Sorry, sorry. I got sidetracked. Back to goblins! The green bastards don’t have repositories either, they’re constantly producing wicked magic, and it’s flooding into their bodies, twisting both mind and flesh, and eventually finding its way into their surroundings! It drives them to maim and to torture, to prolong the suffering of their victims, but not purely for indulgent reasons. That’s how they reproduce, by depositing their eggs on their victims, and the suffering of the host adds to the strength and levels of the resulting goblin!”

I hated to ask. But I had to raise my hand, and curse my mother for being so attentive and nice and accommodating for my curiosities! “Uhmm… how do they deposit the egg? Like, where does it come from?”

The rest of my party were looking at me with shocked and incredulous expressions. Except for Moonwash, whose interest was also hopelessly piqued. An ally I can count on!

“The mouth. They vomit it out. At least that’s the commonly held belief!” Mom began her explanation with a very smug air. “But I know better! I’ve had the opportunity to dissect one before, something you should absolutely never do yourself because their bodies are suffused with wicked mana, and that can really fuck with your head!”

“Wow! I can see that!” Therick joked, and I couldn’t help but step on his toe. “Ow! What gives, Haell!?”

I glared at him with all the malice in the world.

“Okay, okay,” he agreed then whispered “Fucking mama’s girl.”

Mom saw the exchange, and patted my head. I leaned into it happily as she continued, “What I found out in my study, was that goblins have viable tracts to excrete their eggs out of nearly any viable orifice. Which is more than what you would think!” Mom ignored our groans and gags, plowing through with the rest of her lesson. “There are more factors as to the levels of the resulting offspring, such as the levels of the host, their sapience or lack thereof, and even for how much of the excruciating process they are able to remain alive.”

“That’s fucked up,” I said, almost in reflex.

“Oh it gets worse! Even when they’re killed, their eggs are then able to produce more goblins from their corpse, albeit generally of the weakest variety.”

“That’s why you went the extra mile to eradicate every trace of that goblin…”

“Yep! You got it right, Haell! And now for the worst part of all!”

What could be worse than a rapidly reproducing scourge?

“They’re sapient.”

Oh. That. Of course.

“But… you just killed it, her, without warning…”

Mom smiled sadly. “That’s right, Haell. And I’m so happy you’re the kind of person to be concerned about that. Even after all that I’ve said.”

“I get they do bad things, and maybe most must be put down,” I spoke carefully, until I didn’t. “But there must be outliers! They’re still individuals! And there will always be individuals that break off from the norm, good or bad! It’s the freedom of life! It’s free will, whether real or an illusion…”

Mom took my hand into her own and crouched down to my level. “Maybe you’re right, Haell. But I have looked, long and hard, and I have not found the good in them. Perhaps by no fault of their own, magic itself twists them to be wicked. But that does not change the reality. They are a grave danger that must be put down, and that’s what we are going to do.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “You don’t have to go though, when we fight. In fact, I'd rather you didn’t. The effects of prolonged exposure to them can have on the mind…”

It’s not pretty. I finished.