Admittedly, his first attempt at creating a small blade had gone poorly. Far too much zeal and energy and much less thought and patience had gone into that first project. It was weak and dull and the level one mage was left far more spent than he should otherwise have been. The second attempt was much more up to standard.
After the sweating and laboured panting from his first foray with weaponry, the second left him tired but focused. Otis stared at the section of scrap he’d shaped and sharpened. It was bright, sharp, and caught the light. He had only focused on forging an edge to the blade but it was far better than trying to complete the whole dagger at once. Compared to the artistic approach of the sculpture, where he was able to form an efficient mesh of molten metal, his blade was uniform and solid. Still, it had been therapeutic, as he allowed the mana to flow freely around pockets of resistance before he flooded the areas on all sides.
As he inspected the edge, Otis was happy with the improvements and ideas he’d been able to implement, but it wasn’t enough.
To a mortal a knife even a dull spoke could be enough to pierce and kill, but what was the likelihood of doing the same to those gifted with the ability to control mana? The odds were likely to fall around nil. The young girl, perhaps only ten, in the training chambers, was well above his own capabilities, someone his own age would be more powerful; stronger, faster… impenetrable.
‘Nothing that can be great should be good,’ Otis recalled his grandfather saying.
With enough mental force to audibly hear the rumbling of his blood in his ears, Otis bore down on his creation. Squeezing with all the mental energy he could, he attempted to slim down the space between each pocket of mana. With the limited knowledge he had of atoms, Otis hoped the same logic would apply to mana. Perhaps if he developed the ability to more finely alter the microscopic structures he’d be able to form stronger and more adaptable structures, just as carbon could form diamond or graphite.
As Otis was forced to release his intense concentration, he saw that he hadn’t been wrong. Without much change, the force of his compression had forced mana more tightly together, albeit only slightly.
Presumably, whatever allowed a mage to control mana was much like a muscle. Whilst he had been able to squeeze the small bubbles of mana ever so slightly closer together his mana reserves had plummeted with the effort. It was like trying to lift something too heavy, no matter how much you strained the weight was coming back down. In the same way, particulates of mana would fall back into place. Particles felt like the best way to describe it. The mana had to be fed through the material till little by little it seeped through. Full permeation of the aspect he was trying to change was the only way to begin to will the metals to move.
Pausing to regather himself and let a point of mana tick up, Otis picked up his materials. He sensed the material, he could see the flow of particles within the metal, he forced his will to activate his manipulation and he ground to a halt. Compared to his first attempt this second stint was far harder.
If he continued comparing mana to a weight it would be like picking up said weight only it insurmountably heavy after setting it down. Confused Otis tried again on a different section of material and was able to impose his will with relative ease.
Rather than just mental fatigue, it appeared that altering a material already shaped through mana was considerably harder. The materials hadn’t changed so substantially that the effort should be any greater and yet the difference was stark.
“Could be like concrete; fluid until it’s set,” Otis mumbled.
Instinctively, Otis moved the two metal pieces together. Like a joiner, he channelled his thoughts into melding the two pieces together. This time it was possible to maintain his stamina by swivelling from one piece to the other. The end result looked distinctly modern. The two halves of metal had a tiny soldered wave formation between them. It reminded Otis of the welding clips he’d seen online. Memorising relatives of Genghis Khan felt like time wasted compared to his YouTube procrastination now.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Glancing at the complex intricacies and interlocking components of the automaton, Otis began to appreciate the immensities of what he was seeing. How one person, or even a team of persons, could create something so powerful was beyond what Otis could comprehend. Whatever the cult, Tiera had mentioned, they were and would be beyond him for a very long time. If he had chosen to leave the safety of The Veil, Otis had no doubt he would be dead.
Lining up another two pieces of metal, Otis prepared himself to try again.
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A non-traditional push dagger sat cradled by the duvet. The sharp edge of the blade had a refined silver sheen, that stood out against the dull matt colouring of the rest of the blade. A sideways handle gave way to a blade some ten centimetres long, before it reached a broader spear tip.
Although a spear or some kind of sword would have been nice, Otis decided on the push knife due to its concentrated design. If he was ever going to fight someone or something stronger than himself, he had to make the most of his strengths. The spear tip was as reinforced as much as he could, in order to penetrate his opponent. The rest of the shaft was designed simply to extend the reach of the dagger. The grip had been shaped ergonomically fit to his palm.
Otis breathed hard as he stared at the dagger. He hadn’t pushed himself to an entirely mana-depleted state again, but it had been close. His newest creation instilled a sense of pride within him, even if he could see where he wanted to improve. The new mage hadn’t had the mana reserves to construct the weapon in a single sitting. Instead, he had sat through four bouts of strained construction.
The final stage had been the most exhausting. Having looked at the evolution of weaponry over time, he had come across the use of a fuller. The tool put a longitudinal indent into the flat side of the blade and whilst some people thought it was for bloodletting it had actually been to allow the blade to be lighter but stronger. Replicating this step had ended up being the most mentally exhausting but the idea of leaving any stone unturned left him feeling nauseous.
‘A bit more effort or a potentially snapped weapon. The magical world isn’t filled with great choices,’ Otis had thought. Although, if he was within arms reach of something capable of snapping his dagger he’d also likely be dead. At least when he died he might be a thorn in their side.
The veins in his forehead had pounded and his vision went blurry. Droplets of sweat formed and rolled till they dripped off of his nose. It hadn’t been much more but eventually the blade condensed fractionally more as Otis pressed down on both sides.
To fight against something with your mind was an odd sensation but oddly similar to willing yourself to raise a weight at the bottom of a rep. It was a constant and brutal pressure but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
The traditional push knife design had been left behind for something that might be better placed in the hands of a video-game assassin. If he had the strength to name it, Otis might have engraved ‘Altair’ into the side.
As proud as Otis was, the dagger failed to capture his attention for long.
——————————————
Otis Manning (Class: N/A)
Level : 1
Clan/ Sect : [Property of The Veil]
HP: 10/10 MP: 2/5
Status:
Strength 5 Agility 4 Endurance 6 (8) Intelligence 6 Will 6 (8) Charisma 4
Characteristics:
Undying Resolve, (endurance, will + 2)
Skills:
Manipulation (level 2)
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‘I did it… I actually did it!’ Otis thought as he let out a howling laugh.
Changed from ‘discovered’ to ‘level 2’ ‘Manipulation’ had well and truly been upgraded. Otis had been too exhausted to check to see if there had been a ‘level 1’ when he was sucked dry of mana but it didn’t matter, not now.
He was still level 1 overall but his skills were developing. Whether it was simply creating something or because of all the different iterations of ideas he’d crammed into its design, something had pushed him forward.
Even if he was on his own, he didn’t feel quite as hopeless anymore.
Between bouts of channeling ‘manipulation’ Otis had been doing press-ups and Australian pull-ups on the slats of the bunk above him. In time, it was likely that this would help progress his physical characteristics but it wasn’t enough to make any meaningful change to his condition. Otis pondered whether a change in level would also increase these statistics but there was no way of knowing, yet. Otis was merely thankful that, in the corner of the room, he couldn’t be seen hanging off the bed frame. The workout would surely aid his physique eventually but Otis could feel his face burning at the idea of someone catching him.