As urgent as Caro’s predicament was, she was plenty of paces away, leaving Val a brief moment to evaluate her current physique. Her insides shrieked each time her foot planted on the ground, as if the scroll patched her up using plastic strings instead of arcane sutures.
Thankfully, Magus Hawke’s endurance training kicked in and she managed to sequester the throbbing sensation to the distant corners of her mind. What she couldn’t ignore, however, was her low reserves. I’m dry. Consuming the last energy potion available in her tool belt, a wide wince teetered her expression. It had the lowest value of her tonics—worth just over half of her total ASC—slashing her options in half.
She should’ve refilled her needs at Oldman Uche’s store. She should’ve taken heed to the strange solemnity settling on the Base Camp. She should’ve realized that the Dark Mineshaft didn’t prefer to leave its intruders whole, the injured ranger was a testament to that.
No matter what she should have done, could have thought, or didn’t believe, it mattered little. Caro’s life was in her hands, and that was something no one could steal away—not while she breathed and lived on Spiravale.
Sword abandoned to the far side due to being flung away, Val resolved to conjure a Metal Spike in her hand. Thicker than the type she routinely called upon, it was cold to the touch and odd to hold in place of her hilt. Worse, it bit at her skin.
She didn’t care.
“Metallic Reformation.” Carving a Glazen blade out of the material, she trained on the creature at the forefront of her approach. Aster gifted her its name and stars, plugging in the gaps of knowledge and adding the frame to the picture.
Mud dripped off the curvature of the Speartailed Scorpion’s outer shell. Hunched in on itself, tail curled atop the back, she would’ve mistaken it for a boulder if not for her shadow-sight contacts.
Val ignored the warnings spilling across her vision, courtesy of her artifact. Spotting the scorpion’s mandibles close in Caro’s calf, she saw the world through a red-tinted glass. She took a compact swing for its head, technique and tactics be damned.
Seconds away from intersecting its meal with a mean slash to the face, the scorpion curled up into itself like a pill ball. The sludge on its exterior solidified into rigid plates, clinking as they set into position around its carapace.
Val poured fury into her form, the released tension in her muscles ensuring a—
It repelled her attack with vapid ease. Her newly-formed weapon flew behind the shoulder and the result stitched her eyebrows together. Something else’s in play there.
There was no time to double-check her thoughts. She saw a brown blur, followed by an intense surge of pain through her ribcage. Slammed away by the creature’s flailing appendage, the blow carried her backward. She tumbled to the floor, rolling into a heap of limbs.
She propped herself on an elbow, grunting as she watched the scorpion open its jaws. Frustration churned her stomach. To think a Tier One aether creature would deem her worth so low. It made a conscious decision to ignore Val, to let her fume where she sprawled, unable to buffer its desire to consume her friend’s life.
And she didn’t even possess the might to insist otherwise.
As much as the media denied it, aether creatures weren’t witless, and the sneak attack proved as much. The scorpion lingered in the shadows until its prey was vulnerable, likely disguised as an ordinary rock.
Time continued to tick, regardless of her feelings. The scorpion closed in on her friend by the inches, but she couldn’t compute a course of action able to dispatch the creature. With an AV quarter-full and a body hanging on by the thread, desperation grasped at her emotions.
Words have more power than you think, Valpal.
A distinct memory flashed in her mind, with Dad seated at the far end of the dinner table. He’d stride to where she bristled, a tender smile on his lips as he massaged the wrinkles at the midpoint of her brow. She’d probably just finished a rant about one thing or the other—an unjustified test mark, an underhanded move in a spar, an unnerving comment.
He always nodded like his eleven-year-old daughter’s problems intrigued him more than the latest news. Then, he would repeat the same answer rehashed, remixed, and readjusted. There was one version, though, that stuck with her.
If you want something to happen, it doesn’t hurt to express yourself.
It was a piece of advice she could never quite follow, but if there was ever a chance to remedy the fact, it’d be now. In a last-ditch attempt to get its attention, Val mustered every mote of authority she owned and thrust it into her voice. “Stop!”
Breathless and a tad bit out of it, she questioned the sight that occurred through her tear-blurred eyes. The incessant clicking of the beast’s mandibles ceased. On pace to tear Caro’s neck into shreds, it jerked in her direction in a broken manner, as if it lagged on low-end wifi. Liquid oozed out of the its orifices, dripping past its ear holes, eye sockets, and shell.
The scorpion’s body went rigid, and the light in its orbs vanished. Before long, it toppled to the ground like puppets whose strings have been long cut.
Mystified at the sudden death of the Speartailed Scorpion, Val puzzled over her empty Aether Vessel as her world turned dark.
…
An all-encompassing throb startled Val awake, the headaches of all headaches bringing her forth from blissful oblivion. Strained thoughts laced together into choppy recollections, as if sifted by her brain to shield her from the bombardment of imagery. Lifemonger. Magma. Javelin. Heavens. Caro—is she okay?
Val dragged her eyelids open, groaning at the blinding light burning her eyes.
“Lower the torch, Ron,” she heard Rick order. “They’re awake.”
It was then she registered the rugged texture of fortified leather scraping at her neck. She twisted her head to find Silann’s arm looped around her shoulder, muttering under uneven breaths. “Not twice….”
A separate grunt battered her healing senses, trailed by whispered expletives. She peeked around Silann to find her fellow Striker under the same chokehold. A visceral sense of relief nearly eased back into unconsciousness.
Caro was alive.
“You girls scared us there.” Rick reclasped the few hanging latches on his unique armour set, otherwise in pristine condition. “We broke through the erosive barrier to witness a pair of lifeless bodies.”
“It was a mighty scare, but we’re glad it was only that,” he chuckled, a trace of somberness in his lined smile. Bo gave an earnest nod, shooting them a thumbs up.
Silann stifled a few sniffles, releasing them from the hug. “Told you they’d be fine.”
“Aww,” Caro cooed. “Is that worry I sense?”
Silann shot her a glare and the group broke into a hearty burst of laughter.
“Relief aside, we should get a move on,” Rick said. “Though this place worked, we don’t want to be trapped here for another second.”
Helped up by Aeron, Val cursed at the stiffness in her body. They must’ve applied like five healing scrolls. Such an extreme level of growth was unnatural, altering her muscles to the point of unfamiliarity.
Val’s concentration went into putting one foot after the other, allowing the others to guide her out of the dreaded tunnels. A hand would jut out occasionally, catching her before a mere slip ended with her on the slick, subterranean floors. Her body slipped into auto-pilot, clocking out the ongoing conversion amid the team. As the minutes flowed, a couple of keywords unblurred her awareness.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“—gathered enough minerals to hit the quota, which is enough to get you two one spell each,” Silann said. “After a run-in with the Lifemonger, I suggest a trip back to HQ is in the works.”
“We can’t,” Val blurted. “Caro and I don’t have more than two remnants at home. University application dates are fast approaching—we need those energy cores.”
Silann shrugged. “Fine. I’ll lend you some.”
Aeron shot her a puzzled look, the offer unlike the aloof wind mage. On a different day, Val would’ve accepted the act of kindness with open arms and a wide smile. Unfortunately, the manner of the Speartailed Scorpion’s death scratched at her curiosity. She wasn’t willing to leave while the feeling was fresh, lingering in her system.
“I can’t ask that of you when you just saved our lives. When all of you did,” Val said
“Inconsequential,” she countered. “I’ve saved your head more times than either of us can count, and I will continue to do so. As long as you don’t annoy me, that is.”
Val winced, turning to the Captain for his answer—a suitable response.
“Okay,” he nodded her way. “I’m never one to decline the desire to achieve things yourself.”
“Thank you!”
“However,” he continued, an ultimatum on the horizon. “Any signs of fatigue and we’re out. Alright?”
Val nodded, half-expecting a whoop from the battle junkie of the squad. Instead, she found Caro walking in a daze, on the same auto-pilot mode she was once in.
She elbowed her friend. “You good, Cee?”
Bound in a tight ponytail, her braids fell loose as Caro slipped off the hair. “Feel like someone’s splitting my skull in half." She sifted a hand through her crimson curls, black roots growing in. "I don’t know how you survived so many rebounds.”
“Me neither.” At a glance, the magma mage appeared off-kilter. Her skin was a shade paler, and her gait carried an unenergetic apathy divergent from her usual self. “Wanna bother Aeron?”
Caro cracked a slight smirk. “I’m always up for that.”
Aeron raised a brow as the pair broke position. “Never a break with you two,” he sighed. “You’re lucky you just survived a near-death situation. What’s the question?”
“Who said it’s a question?” Caro raised a brow.
Val scratched her cheek. “It, uh… it kinda is.”
Caro slapped her shoulder. “Damn it, Val!”
Silann snorted to the far left. “Spit it out. Even I’m curious.”
“Well…” she gestured to the gash in her clothing, a pale stomach visible. “After the Lifemonger fled to your side of things, a scorpion’s javelin stabbed me right about here.”
“I noticed the carcass,” Aeron mentioned.
Val nodded. “It wedged me into the wall. Like, I couldn’t move. By some means, though, I was able to pull it out. Now, I’m left wondering what those means were.”
“Easy,” Silann said. “Aetherial Reinforcement.”
“The only Aetherial Art I know of is Vague View.”
“Aetherial Reinforcement is a technique accomplished through instincts,” Aeron said. “The capability to activate it is always there, we merely sharpen our ability to use it at will through training.”
“Makes sense,” Val muttered. Way back during the second test of the Tripartite Trial, Collins clipped on the obsidian bracelets to block the mere chance of her activating the art. To her, the action was an overboard demand, and yet the exact thing he’d mentioned became a possibility months later.
“I’ll teach it to you guys if you’re willing,” Aeron said.
“Of course we’re willing,” Caro grinned. “Don’t block me when the texts start rolling in for help.”
His smile waned. “I think I’m going to get more than I bargain for.”
“Too bad,” Caro punched his chest and he grimaced. “A done deal’s a done deal.”
Val didn’t bother to hide her smile.
She’s back.
----------------------------------------
Returning to the relaxing depths of Harbour’s, Val's mind was moderately untroubled.
She didn’t know what to expect of a hotel in the middle of a labyrinth—rock-solid mattresses and squeaky pipes were the first on her list. It had escaped her mind that their squad hosted a woman of high standards, and high standards tend to carry on to where one resided. Silann checked out three master-size bedrooms; one for the guys, one for the girls, and one for herself.
You couldn’t fault Val for taking advantage of the shower, rinsing off the grime of the dive.
Caro’s snores greeted her once she left the bathroom. Porcelain tiles sapped her feet’s heat as she raced to the bed, mitigated by the fire stove that sat adjacent to the night desk. Wrapped in thick blankets, a sense of comfort gave her a snug goodnight kiss that would put anyone to bed.
So why, might you ask, was she awake with a troubled mind? The Speartailed Scorpion run-in was to blame, plaguing her sleep even in death. The fight would have remained a losing battle if not for her scratchy shout. Yet, was it due to that?
Val wasn’t a fan of mistaking causation and correlation, but it seemed impossible to distinguish what was which in the present circumstance. What had happened? Why did it suddenly bleed out? Was it a coincidence or was it her?
The answer seemed obvious, like something she should know, given it was words that she said—or was it not? With a long-winded sigh escaping her, she shut her eyes and tossed herself to the other end of the bed. The list of mysteries extended longer and longer, adding the ones already lying in her bin.
Nevertheless, nothing compared to the riddle of her odd awakening. The instance remained as blurry as a distant dream she might’ve had years ago. Whenever she dwelled on it for a moment too long, the imagery eluded her, gone from her memory.
Despite the fierce urge to type away in a computer’s search bar, she settled to simmer beneath the covers. She wouldn't encounter a working smart device in the Base Camp, anyways. Rumours suggested that the high energy level in rifts fried complicated technology, disabling one of humanity’s vital sources of strength. Though an enrapturing setting, the sight of the primitive city confirmed it.
All there was to depend on was yourself, your spells, your E-devices and the same length as others.
Unless, of course, you possessed devices on par with storage rings.
Val’s eyelids finally flickered downwards as the persisting adrenaline faded. She made herself cozy, savouring her final night at the luxurious hotel.
----------------------------------------
A chorus of high-pitched squeaks itched at Val’s eardrums as they turned down the wrong corner. Within a roomy corner of the mineshaft, two dozen raccoon-sized rats stared at the six intruders invading their home. Technically the right corner.
Rick directed them down a separate tunnel as they left the Base Camp today, one that possessed an aether creature-infested dead end. What bristled at her weren’t just chimeras bound to the negative-concrete element of poison. They were walking remnants.
Water flowed from Aeron’s tubs—refilled at Base Camp—and out of the ground simultaneously, fettering the critters in place. Air Arrows zipped across the rectangular space, drilling the domes of four rats. Rick fortified a set of earthen blocks to bar the chimeras from progressing further and the Strikers rushed in without fear. Caro took one side, Val the other.
Limbs of sand hardened into sharp edges, maiming a trio in a matter of three seconds. She twirled her greataxe in a sweeping motion at two others, footwork elite as she stepped forward to jab the next. In one, succinct motion, she retrieved the weapon with a healthy and precise tug, leaving six aether creatures dead in her wake.
Val offensively conjured Metal Spike Quartet the second time around, aiming to kill rather than to obstruct. It pierced through three as they attempted to leap past Rick’s earthen barrier, the fourth lacerated after she tweaked a spike with Metallic Reformation.
She plunged her blade into one of the remaining pair, honing in on the last rat. The beady eyes of the creature met the keen look of the metal mage.
Summoning the same intent and force as the day prior, she whispered, “Stop. Stop.”
Chittering at her like they spoke the same language, it quirked its head and ejected a spray of green poison. Stifling her shock, she sidestepped the attack. Its head continued to reel back as its neck stretched open, slashed tendons unable to maintain the weight of its skull.
Bo uncovered himself and his stained hands were evidence of his handiwork. His mannerism spoke of verdant confusion, gaze wavering between the living girl and the dead rat. “What are you doing?”
Val’s debate on whether to keep quiet or not didn’t last long. Discovered secrets didn’t bode too well, especially if their relevance was insignificant. “I… I don’t know, trying to speak to it I guess?”
Bo lifted his curtain bangs to make eye contact. “What?”
“It—it worked last time, I swear,” Val added in haste. As his eyes narrowed, regret struck as quickly as lightning. Yup, I’ve officially lost it.
“I knew some mages were eccentric, but this…” Bo muttered. He sighed, attention returning to the rat, his teammates, and back to Val. “Alright.”
“You aren’t weirded out?”
“I am,” he confessed. “I’ve seen worse, though. Way worse.”
“Then, do you… perhaps have an answer?”
He threw her a shrug. “Words contain power, especially when it punctures the material world as it does in spells. It reaches different types of ears, hearts—and in some cases—souls.”
“That’s not an answer though?”
“Answer enough to me.” He shot her the quickest of evil smiles and vanished behind a sheen.