Days until the first Trial: 5
The last few months of Frank’s previous life were a blur.
A few moments here and there stuck to him, passing before his eyes as he tried–and failed–to sense his mana like Khaa had instructed.
He sighed, opening his eyes, and was gratified to hear Esther’s frustrated groan to his right, echoing in the private training space.
At least he wasn’t the only one stuck.
This room was similar to the one they had watched the presentation in, although there were no seats. It was a rectangular space divided in two sections: a meditation area with floor cushions that were too thin to Frank’s taste, and a square arena with a rubber-like mat on which Khaa and Wilbur were talking.
Frank couldn’t hear them. There was some magic that prevented noise from entering the meditation space.
The memory that kept popping in his mind was of the last glass of water he drank in his past life. One day before he had to be intubated and fed through an IV. The maddening thirst that had followed him all the way to his death hung in his mind, and he couldn’t chase it away to focus on the exercise he was supposed to be doing.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t gotten a moment to deal with his own thoughts since literally dying and waking up. Maybe the experience had been more traumatic than he’d assumed. And maybe it had to do with the incredibly crisp and flowing ball of crystal clear water that hung above Khaa’s hand as she explained something to Wilbur.
Frank closed his eyes and tried again. He ignored the soreness that was setting into his behind and tried to silence the voice whispering that maybe he should delay his visit to the Guild of Souls. He would have more time to prepare. What if Tasos showed up? Khaa might not be around this time. He’d be alone.
I really needed that nap. He shook his head and recalled Khaa’s instructions.
“Picture a ball of blue-white light where your chest meets your stomach. It is full of mana. Like a mist of cold and vibrant smoke. This is your core. When you use a card, or cast a spell, it doesn’t need your help to pull mana from it. Which means that if you want to learn to control your mana, to shape it, you need to do it by yourself.
“Out of your core, pull a thin strand of mana toward your hand. Feel how it moves. Focus it on the palm of your hand. Sense the pressure of it. And when you can’t condense it any more, push it out.”
He focused on that area. It wasn’t feeling as empty as it had been after he had used the mind resistance card, but he was still low. Maybe this room helped with recovery?
Focus.
His breath slowed. A core of mana. Of misty energy. Pull a strand out.
He went through the motion for what was probably the eighth or ninth time, not expecting to feel anything different. But as he imagined a wisp of mana leaving the round core in his chest, he felt something move.
Frank froze up. The movement hadn’t been immediate. He had moved on to the next step which consisted of imagining this nebulous mana moving toward his arm when he’d felt it emerge in his chest, like a thin trail of electrifying cold, as if it had been on a delay. It didn’t feel physical. It felt as if his nerves were picking up sensations from something that wasn’t there.
Unfortunately, the surprise broke his focus, and the odd sensation vanished. Did it go back to his core? Or did he lose it?
Did he just imagine it?
Frank opened his eyes, and he would have sworn Khaa had been looking at him. But as his eyes got used to the light, he found her pelting Wilbur’s armored suit with thin beams of water. Clumps of clay ripped off as if they were made of papier mâché. She was aiming for the shoulders, limbs. Even the head. But never center mass.
Her accuracy was pretty impressive.
Ok. One more time.
This time, he could somehow feel the source of the odd energy. As he slowly moved his awareness to his chest area, he felt it. A space where the oddly-charged energy was collected. Like pure hydrogen waiting to be ignited.
Keeping his awareness on it, he pulled a strand and pictured it moving to his arm. A moment later, Frank felt the mana sluggishly respond. A thin strand crept out of his core and Frank suppressed a burst of excitement. Keeping his focus on the ball of light he was picturing, he willed his mana to keep going. A couple of seconds later, it reached his right shoulder. Then his biceps. Then his hand.
He felt out of breath, for some reason. But he steeled his focus on the task and kept at it until he felt the strand of mana reach his palm. He held it there and didn’t dare to let his attention slip, afraid that if he let go for one moment it would dissipate.
What was he supposed to do again? He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t expected it to work.
Right. Pressure. Then push it out.
Unfortunately, trying to recall the instructions seemed to be enough of a distraction. He felt the mana slip his control, and as he opened his eyes it fizzled out of his palm. The air rippled for an instant around his hand, and then it was gone.
The darkness on the edge of his vision creeped closer, and the world around him grew fuzzy. He was panting. And cold. A film of sweat was covering his brows and back, and emptiness gnawed at his chest.
“Drink,” said the muffled voice of Khaa. Something in her hand. An uncorked mana potion.
Frank struggled to obey.
The familiar taste of mana potion hit his tongue, and half a minute later the gnawing ache let up.
Khaa was looming over him. He put the empty vial down. And as he was about to speak, a wave of nausea hit him and he retched. Once. Twice. Thrice. Whenever he thought it was about to stop, it came back. Esther said something, but he couldn’t hear her over his own noise.
A minute or so later, he was finally able to take a deep breath without being interrupted by his own diaphragm.
“You should have said you drank one already today.”
Frank glanced up as he wiped the cold sweat from his brows. There went his plan to stock up on mana potions. “How do you know it was just one?”
Khaa grinned back at him and conjured some water so he could wash his face. “Because you only dry heaved. And it barely lasted a minute,” she said, glancing at a scowling Esther. She turned back to him and added, “Do not underestimate potion poisoning. Inform yourselves about it and get some remedies before the first Trial. Risking the poisoning should always be a last resort, but you might not have the choice.”
Frank nodded and laid down on his back. It might be a bit rude, but he just needed it.
“Congratulations. You took your first step in the world of magic. It was awkward. Uncontrolled. Unusable. Like a babe who just stood for the first time. And like that child, you will now practice. Your balance will become better. Your steps more assured. Sensing and controlling your mana is the basis of everything, and it’s only the first step. We will talk more about the next steps, but for now you should rest. If you don’t have a mana replenishing meditation yet, look into the Hall’s marketplace and get one.”
Frank lifted his hand in a thumbs up; he was going to take her advice to heart and rest.
But… he just came out of decades of resting, and he had a competition looming ahead of him that he was wholly unprepared for. And a corrupt guard that had a vendetta against him. And he needed to find where his family was. Where Jane was.
He didn’t have the time to rest. So he sat back up.
This was a small victory. But it was also far from useful. How long would it be until Frank could use this kind of magic? Was this the best use of his time? “What’s the difference between casting a spell yourself and using a card? I don’t think I have a choice for now other than using cards. But how… urgent is it for me to learn how to do it by myself?”
Khaa looked at him for a moment, then looked beyond him. She lifted her right hand, and a card appeared above it. Large enough that he could easily read its text.
[Water Jet]
Rarity: Common
Type: Spell
Description: Shoots a jet of concentrated water.
“You are right. Cards are significantly easier to use than free-casting. But when you use a spell-card, you are borrowing a mastery that isn’t yours. They are, in a way, a tool. A wand that takes mana from one end, and outputs a spell from the other. But.”
She glanced at her card, and the card flipped over and became larger. Then, as if it was peeled away, the decoration of the back was discarded to reveal… runes.
Card blueprints, like the ones Wilbur had wanted to study back at the mayor’s mansion. Tightly printed symbols surrounded a larger one, and looking at it, Frank felt a shudder in the back of his mind.
“This is called a spell formula. Some call it a spell blueprint. If you were to transcribe this onto an object, it would cast this exact spell. If you were to follow the formula to the letter with your own mana, you would cast this exact spell. Observe.”
With a wave of her hand, a two-inch thin lance of water shot forward, hitting the wall in less than a second with a quiet thud that sent water sprouting in every direction.
“Now observe the blueprint as I change it to one of the variants of the card.”
Frank watched the design ripple and fade away, and a new blueprint took its place. The most significant change was that a large second Glyph appeared.
“What do you think this variant does?”
Frank eyed it for a moment then shook his head. How was he supposed to know?
“Guess.”
It could really be anything, but now that he considered it. “The water Glyph is still there… so I’m guessing it adds an effect to the water? Maybe cold or heat? Or the speed of the projectile?”
Kha nodded. “Close enough.” She waved her hand and a new water jet shot forward. It splashed against the wall, and Frank thought he could see steam rising from the impacted area. “Glyphs can be combined to create new variants. But do you notice how the potency of the spell is mostly the same? Now, observe my version.”
Khaa closed her eyes for a moment, and a corona of blue-ish light formed around her. A moment later, even her fur seemed to reflect blue instead of its usual black.
Frank was still observing his tutor’s physical changes when the spell snapped into existence. Water surged out of nowhere, coalescing in front of her. In half a second it had the shape and thickness of the two previous versions. But it didn’t stop there.
More and more water appeared, quickly shaping itself into a lance that was twice as large as the standard spell. Then thrice as large, and right before it shot out it had begun spinning, with flecks of water occasionally dislodging from the rotation. When the lance was as thick as a column, it shot forward.
The lance of water thundered forward and Frank’s hair was buffeted. It crashed against the wall in an explosion of water that made his insides vibrate.
“This is technically the same spell as the standard [Water Jet]. Aside from the spin. The strength of the spell is me channeling more mana into it than the card allows, while keeping it stable. Much more mana. If this spell had been a card, it would be at least Rare-rank, if not Epic, considering the destructive force it can unleash.”
The card disappeared, and glancing at Khaa, Frank noticed the blue glow that had been around her a moment ago had also faded away. Khaa looked unruffled. As if she hadn’t just shot a column of water that would demolish any regular home Frank had ever been in.
“This is what can be done without cards. With practice and with Glyph mastery. Now it’s up to you to decide how much time and effort you wish to invest in getting to that point.”
Frank stared at the wall. To his right, Esther was staring as well, eyes wide. Even Wilbur had stopped what he’d been doing to observe.
In response to the stares, Khaa brushed her clothes. “Any of you can learn to do this. You can re-create spells by studying their blueprint. Learn how to read it, then try to reproduce it. Experiment. Push your limit. Mana manipulation is one of the two rails that make the ladder we all climb toward divinity.”
After a quiet moment, she added, “The second rail is a Glyph to call your own. Your teammate has already started on his path,” she said, nodding toward Wilbur, then looked Frank and Esther in the eyes. “I suggest you start thinking about the path you want to pursue. Some might say it is too soon. Some might say you should focus on levels. But I disagree. Start thinking about the Glyph you will base your future on. Something that is, and has always been part of who you are. That is the true key to power.” For a moment, her eyes shone with the same blue that had surrounded her earlier. Then it faded away.
“We will talk more about that later. For now, continue getting a feeling for your mana.”
Frank and Esther shared a look. They nodded then went back to their practice, more motivated than ever.
For three seconds, before Frank blinked his eyes back open again.
Right. I’m out of mana.
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Frank examined the transactional prompt one last time before he agreed to it.
Confirm Purchase:
[Mana Replenishing Meditation] from Alethyana's Essentials
Amount to be paid: 2 Achievement Point
Remaining balance: 21 Achievement Points
Accept | Refuse
While Khaa continued coaching Wilbur and Esther, Frank popped his interface up and navigated back to the card section within the Hall’s marketplace. It didn’t take him long to find the meditation cards, and there were quite a few of them.
There were meditations to help one get familiar with specific Glyphs. Meditations to replace sleep and to promote healing. To control mana better or to increase one’s mana reserves–which he had been about to purchase when he’d realized it was priced at a whopping 10 APs.
It was one he was definitely coming back to, eventually. When it didn’t cost half his budget.
The sleep replacing card though… Well, he did enjoy sleep and wasn’t as taken by it, but he could see the value in having such a card as an option.
He slotted the meditation card into his hand, but paused before triggering it. The temptation to look through the rest and stock up on cards was palpable, and he was going to. Today. Right after the session with Khaa was over.
She was here to help them, so he didn’t want to waste time browsing and debating which cards he should get and which ones he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to rush it. He needed to be efficient with his choice. And it should be something defensive. Or offensive.
Something to give him an edge against Tasos, if he were to meet him again.
Which reminded him. He should set some time aside to test [Floating Shield] later. If it didn't suit him, he'd sell it and get something that synergized with his other cards better.
He stretched his neck and took a second to observe Wilbur getting thrown back by a giant watery fist.
Maybe he could take a quick peek at the options available? He’d been working for the last couple of hours. A small break wouldn’t hurt.
Yeah. But no more than two minutes.
Five minutes later, Frank concluded that he was too broke for 99% of the good stuff.
Most Epic cards started at around 20 APs and went all the way up to 45. Rare cards, even though only some seemed interesting, were cheaper. But not cheap. They hovered between 5 and 15 APs. But the most interesting cards didn’t even have a price tag. Only a name and an auction date ten days away. Their appearance both excited and worried him.
He learned that there were at least two higher ranks of cards than Epic.
There were, in total, six cards scheduled for auctions; five had a green-hued metallic border, and all of them had their illustrations blurred out. Frank would have seriously considered paying AP just to learn what they did, and even though he knew he had no chances of getting any of them, he wrote down their names. Just to look them up once the details were made available. If ever. Or maybe he could find some sort of card repertoire somewhere.
[Fist of the Devourer], an Empowerment-type card.
[Ghostly Strix] and [Red Tyrant], both Summons.
[Blightfire Fireball], a spell that was being sold along with a type of card he hadn’t seen yet by the name of [Plains of Desolation]. He tried to focus on the type, displayed through the cards’ vivid orange background, but no information came through.
Curious.
Lastly, what Frank guessed was the highest rarity card so far, with a ruby-red border and the forest-green background of an Empowerment, the [Exalted Robes of the Lightning God].
“Damn,” he mumbled. Then he shook his head and dismissed the interface.
Somehow from their name and rarity alone, Frank felt like any of those cards could give him the advantage against Tasos. Maybe even carry him through the whole first Trial.
It made sense that they were unreachable for him at this stage. Aside from them not even being available before the auction, he didn’t think he could afford them. The priciest Epic-rank card was sitting at 45APs. A spell that made the Summon’s projection detonate in deflagration of mana on command.
If Commons were in the single digits–such as the meditation card–and If Epics were ranging between 20 and 45APs, then how expensive would the cards of the tier above Epic be? How much for the red-rimmed card? It was two ranks above Epic.
He doubted his 21 APs will help him win anything in that auction.
He replaced [Viper’s Fang] with [Basic Meditation], and [Force Missile] with [Floating Shield]. He kept [Quick Step] as he needed to test it a bit more. And as he was browsing his cards, he found one he’d completely forgotten about. [Coin Purse].
Using the consumable, two gold pieces were added to his balance. With that done, it was time to get back to work.
Adjusting his seating positions, he crossed his legs and tapped the mediation card.
His mind quieted. As if a blanket of peace was gently wrapped around his whole being.
Frank breathed in. And out. The air felt crisp as it entered his lungs, and as he exhaled his fatigue–his worries–floated out and away.
And within a few seconds, his skin began to pleasantly tingle.
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Close to 15 minutes later his mana reserves were back to full, and Frank considered his last acquisition to be his best investment yet. Or maybe second best.
The food in the Hall had been pretty good.
He slowly stretched, a relaxed smile on his face. Glancing around, he found Esther sparring with Wilbur, dodging his massive fists. When he almost got her, she disappeared and reappeared a couple of feet to the right. As for Khaa, he couldn’t see her anywhere. In that case…
“Time to do some testing.” And if [Quick Step] wasn’t as good as whatever card Esther was using, then he needed to find something with that kind of mobility. He’d test the card out, and see its limit for himself. But before that, he had one more housekeeping matter to attend to.
A round steel shield appeared in front of him, with the boss facing outward. It was on the smaller side, around 30 inches wide, with a floral decoration circling the round umbo. The back was smooth, with no handles or straps.
Frank willed it to move, and it did. Although a bit slowly. He moved it up and down, then rotated it around him. He tried walking and spinning it around him, like an orbiting moon, but it was awkward and he had to stop a couple of times.
Complex movements seemed to slow it even more. And it was taking all of his attention to control it. As soon as he looked away or began to change his own trajectory, the shield stalled.
In conclusion… It was decent. But not his style. To make the most use of it, he’d have to be pretty stationary. And he’d need whatever projectile or attacks to come at him from one narrow direction, and even then it wouldn’t provide full cover.
It just wasn’t practical. And it would be taking a whole slot.
He dismissed the shield and equipped [Artemis’ Bane] in its stead. The feeling of slotting cards in and out was still uncomfortable, but nothing as bad as it’d been in the forest.
Looking up, he saw that Khaa was back, with Kreios at her side. And they were having another heated discussion, it seemed.
Great. Not about the argument part. That, he could do without. But with Kreios here, he could speak with him about selling [Floating Shield], and finally ask if there were ways to increase his hand-size outside of Growth Factors. If he recalled correctly, Spirit Growth Factors were responsible for how many cards he could use, as well as the mana reserve he had.
He had hoped to find them in the marketplace… but they hadn’t been available. Were Growth Factors only available through levels and achievements?
Frank stepped through the line separating him from the sparring section, and their voices came through.
“–don’t have the luxury to pick and choose. It’s too soon for a handicap in the name of faster training. They should focus on card variety. Adaptability. Anything else will take too long and they don’t have that kind of time.”
Khaa stopped and turned to fully face the merchant, crossing her arms. “A lack of focus will have them take weeks before they even begin touching their first Glyph, while every native Champion has had theirs for months. Years maybe even. Wilbur is at the Heart stage and he’s not an exception. They cannot survive if all they have is three or four cards to protect themselves.”
“Which is why he needs to gear up,” said Kreios with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before he turned to Frank. “Armament cards can be game changers, but make sure you have a weapon–or two–that don’t depend on a card slot. Make one into a permanent weapon. Get some spell scrolls. And in case you don’t know what those are, they’re scrolls that will cast a spell for you without you having to use your mana pool. Get a couple for emergencies. [Short-range Teleport] and [Recall] spells will save your life, even if they’re pricey. And do keep in mind, this is the sort of thing sponsors can help with. Supporting you financially and providing expertise and support to help you gear up.”
Khaa was winding up for a lengthy counter to Kreios when a voice came from behind them, saving Frank from another round of bickering.
“Why can’t we have more than three cards at a time? Is that a limit that will get removed any time soon?” Esther chimed in. She had successfully moved her mana, but now that her sparring session with Wilbur was done–in which she couldn’t do much other than dodge the massive Suit–she did seem particularly exhausted. So far she’d been laying on her back as she listened.
Both seemed ready to answer but Kreios spoke first. “Your spirit can’t handle it. For now.” He scratched his short beard as he thought. “What the Deck of Fates does is connect the cards you select directly to your soul. It’s like an extra limb. That’s why casting slotted cards is easy, and why it’s fast. If you want to have access to more cards, then you should invest in Spirit Growth Factors whenever you get them in your level ups. Or get to your class consolidation.”
“Or reach the Heart stage in their Cornerstone Glyph,” added Khaa, staring pointedly at him.
Kreios shook his head then sighed.“Yeah. Sure, if they can manage it. In all three of those options, your soul will get a boost, and that’ll let you have more cards. So make sure to focus on one of them.”
----------------------------------------
Cornerstones. Stages. Levels.
A groan escaped Frank’s throat as he slowly stood back up. Even though he didn’t do much physically aside from practicing [Quick Step] until he ran out of mana–which he was able to surprisingly use for close to five minutes non-stop–he felt sore. Physically, mentally, and in what he started to think was his… soul? The concept still felt weird.
Still, the exhaustion wasn’t enough to suppress his smile. Five minutes wasn’t a lot of practice, but he felt he had enough of a grip on the card to not worry about his mobility in a fight.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
He wasn’t sure exactly how the card was operating to make him move so quickly–even though it was just for one step–but it was impactful. He’d tried it against Wilbur, as the Suinah also needed to work on his mobility, and after the first few stumbles he got good enough at using it that he was able to comfortably dodge and sidestep the Suinah’s attacks without fail. He would begin his step, and for an instant the world around him seemed to slow down as his foot traveled until his sole touched the ground again.
But he had to mean the step. He couldn’t move his foot slowly to observe the effect or the magic wouldn’t trigger. And he was definitely going back to explore it, but for now it meant that Frank could take a step in the blink of an eye, if he needed to. It wouldn’t save him in case of an explosion or something of the sort, but a fist or a projectile? As long as he could see it coming, he could sidestep it.
It was amazing.
Though, with how lethargic his limbs were feeling, maybe he should call it a day.
Since the last discussion with Khaa and Kreios, he’d ended up using his mana reserve two or three times already. Now every meditation to replenish his pool seemed to be less effective than the last. Even his soul–for a lack of a better word–seemed to ache.
It seemed there was a limit, and he’d gotten close to it. But at least he was now comfortable with both [Disguise Self] and [Quick Step]. And [Force Missile]’s new variant.
He’d also had the time to begin thinking of a Glyph to pursue. Mostly before and after his meditations. He wasn’t ready to fully commit just yet, but [Grasping Grass] felt right to him.
His years as a botany high school teacher had left him with a fondness for plant-life, and considering how the card had already saved his life… maybe there was something there?
Although the card itself had two Glyphs. And Frank couldn't identify either. So he pushed the matter to tomorrow. Or the day after.
He was still unsure about tomorrow’s plans. Something to discuss with the others… as soon as he’d finish with one last thing.
Frank sighed. It was hard to believe that he was still in the same day that he had run from the Wild Climbers and broke out of the mayor’s involuntary invitation.
By now, everybody else had left. Even Kreios–to whom Frank had been able to sell [Floating Shield] for a nice 7 APs, putting his total up to 28 APs. He had called the card decent but a bit niche, and quickly took it off Frank’s hands. It was an average price for Silver-rank cards, and Frank didn’t want to haggle much.
After that both Kreios and Khaa had left, soon followed by Esther and Wilbur. And both recruiters had left him a copy of their offers… after he had asked for it.
They had alluded to their offers at least once each, but after having had a moment to think about it, it seemed unwise to not look into it a bit. If factions and organizations had expertise and support to offer, he should at least hear them out.
Unfortunately, the contract wasn’t in his favor. And it seemed like both of them knew he wasn’t going to accept; as they had mentioned, getting through the first Trial would see him get much better terms.
He would get financial support. His debt to the Guild of Souls would be paid off. But, in exchange, Frank would be locked into their service for 50 years. That duration automatically got lowered the further Frank got into the Trials, but it would still be 50 years if he finished the third trial.
That’s insane. Was that a life sentence or did magic allow for longer lives?
He sighed. Maybe I should call it a day, he thought to himself. His limbs felt laden, and even though he was worried he needed to put his head down and sleep.
He shook his head. One last thing.
“[Artemis’ Bane].”
A golden spell formation instantly appeared over the padded floor in front of him, and Frank felt the mana rush out. Thanks to the meditations and to the exercises Khaa had him do earlier, he felt as if he could sense the movement of mana better. Just a bit though. It still felt as if he was trying to sense how hot a dish was through gloved hands.
A ball of light started to coalesce above the circle, swirling and spinning as it dragged the lights of the magical circle into it.
Then a flash forced Frank to look away. When he looked back, the spell formation was gone, and in its stead stood… a rabbit.
A large rabbit. Its head was easily at chest level with Frank. And probably weighed more than he did. Its crimson-red topcoat clashed with a snow white underbelly, and when Frank looked closer, he noticed odd movement on the Summon’s fur.
Where the two colors touched, they reacted to each other. Swirling. Undulating. The red would inch downward for a second, before a white swirl washed it away.
The rabbit’s whole coat seemed to be in motion. Its eyes glowed white, and the light seemed to be drifting up, like smoke. The edges of its ears similarly ended in a point that flickered and swayed back and forth in a mesmerizing dance, like the flame of a candle.
Frank felt the connection he had to the rabbit through the card. And what he felt from the beast was curiosity… and a growing need… to run.
He shook his head. Glancing down, he found himself mid-step. And then recognized the influence of the Summon.
He felt his eyes shift up, following the pattern where the two colors met… He wanted to touch it. To catch it.
Catch it.
His body lurched forward and Frank snapped out of the influence. “Jee–”
Frank cut himself off and turned away completely. He sat down and breathed deep. Even without looking at the Summon he could feel the pull on his mind, but it was lessened. The pattern definitely had an impact on whatever mind shenanigans the rabbit was doing.
Mind magic’s obnoxious. But this would be perfect. He could get used to the effect and learn how to resist it. Safely.
Frank peeked behind him and squinted at the rippling fur for a second before turning back away. Was it fur? It seemed more liquid than physical now that he wasn’t letting himself be hypnotized by its movement.
I’m too tired for this. Through the connection he felt the dismissing command and triggered it, then turned to look.
The rabbit’s form brightened for a moment before dissolving into motes of golden light.
The compulsion to catch the Summon immediately faded away.
He glanced down at the card of the rabbit and shivered. Gaining a resistance to this sort of stuff was primordial.
Alright. Time to get something to eat. And decide what happens tomorrow.
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Sabah snatched the thrown towel out of the air. She got a whiff of it and grimaced before proceeding to wipe the sweat and blood from her face anyway. In the meantime, the arena’s staff placed the unconscious cat Beastfolk on a stretcher before they carried him out.
One more and I should call it for the day. She signaled to the lovable idiot who had thrown her the towel and he nodded then bellowed.
“Last fight, people! 1 Gold coin to get into the ring and break her streak! Knock her out within a minute and the pot’s yours. Come on, Champions. How tough can a little human be?”
Sabah’s lip twitched. That little shit.
She stepped toward the corner of the ring and accepted the transaction prompt. The healer, a young man in green and gold-trimmed robes, knew the deal by now so he only nodded and waited for her to get into position.
Sabah came to a stop, and a second later a green-tinted spell circle glowed around her feet. A wave of energy rushed down through her, spilling from the crown of her head all the way down to her toes. Wherever the odd energy found a bruise or a cut the dull pain was wiped away, replaced by an annoying tingle that made her want to scratch the spot in question.
Whatever this spell was, it didn’t just heal her body. Sabah could feel the ache in her chest she associated with mana loss recede. Though by now the progress was significantly slower than what it had been the first few times. Still, when the man ended the spell a moment later, she felt as if she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Though her mana reserves felt like they were barely at half. At best.
The healer strolled back toward his station, unruffled. She wondered if that spell was easy to cast, but she doubted it. She also doubted she could ever get her hands on it.
When she’d asked, the man had refused to clarify, only saying that such questions should be addressed to the Guild of Healers and that she could apply if she wished, once she was out of the Trials.
Sabah assumed that was code for “dream on”.
Moments later, she was back at the center of her ring. Sabah glanced toward the archway that led out of the training grounds then back at the crowds surrounding the other rings. Other fighters stood ready, waiting or calling out for challengers while others were in the middle of their own fights. Further down the space, there were the trainers and training spaces.
In the meantime, Alex tried to lure somebody new in the ring. Even though she still gave him crap since finding him a few days ago, she was really glad he’d made the cut. She was heartbroken at first upon seeing him, assuming he’d died shortly after her, and that her sacrifice had been in vain, but it had turned out that wasn’t the case at all. It had been decades for him since they’d last seen each other.
Which was something Sabah did not want to dwell on too much. She tucked in her tank top and scrunched her nose when she saw its state. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten the white one.
Alex had laid low for a couple of years after the disaster that ended up costing Sabah’s life. Thankfully, it turned out that her desperate gamble had been enough. The mission had been a success. All evidence of her unit, along with any possible identifying details about the operatives she worked with, were gone. Gone up in smoke, along with her.
She took in a shuddering breath, and forced her mind away from that moment.
Alex left the world of espionage behind, and went on and found himself a partner, living happily-ever-after in the Netherlands.
She tightened her fist and hoped someone would come up to the ring soon. It was unsettling. It had been only moments since dying when she first opened her eyes in this new world. Only moments since she had watched the flame and smoke get close. And surround her.
Stop.
In the end, Alex had outlived her by four decades or so.
And the Guild of Souls brought them both back.
She wanted to go there and ask some questions. She was also terrified of the answers she might find.
Before her mind could spiral even deeper in those worries, someone finally took the bait.
A hooded figure stepped toward her ring, and she noticed the quiet and the hard eyes of the front row as they followed the stranger.
What’s this about, then?
Sabah kept her eyes on her opponent as she limbered up. She caught herself smiling and schooled her expression. This was not for fun. They were doing this to gather intel. And to get ready for the Trials. They had gone over this, her and Alex.
First of all, fighting in the arenas was a great way to learn about the abilities the competition had. What kind of cards they would be wielding. The ability they were really confident in.
And when Sabah knocked them on their asses for the first time, they tended to get frustrated and end up revealing even more.
It seemed like a good portion of the participants had really high opinions of themselves. And she had to admit it wasn’t unearned, either. She was winning more than she was losing, sure, but every five fights or so someone would show up and proceed to wipe the floor with her.
Still. Not all Champions were stepping up to the ring, and Alex wasn’t the only one taking notes. She saw them come in occasionally. Observe her for a fight or two, then head out to another ring.
Folks were getting intel on her as well. But that was fine. Sabah wasn’t using all of her cards. She wanted practice, most of all. She didn’t mind taking a couple of losses here and there. And, unexpectedly, the fights turned out to be a goldmine for her. She was leveling up. Both herself and the card she’d restricted herself to. She even got some achievements for her efforts.
Plus, the healers were top-notch. The danger was minimal.
She waited as her opponent effortlessly climbed over the barrier in one swift movement. They paused as their feet touched the ground. Probably because they’d gotten the prompt about the challenge.
This Automaton business was really convenient. It kept things organized and straightforward. It kept the rings safe by intervening when a battle was about to become lethal. But…accidents had happened. Well, just the one.
One of the big white-eyed bastards–which she had yet been able to beat–fought one of the Trolls. They wailed on each other until there was more red than white on the ring. The blond one—the Einherjar as they were called, according to Alex’s snooping—had gone for the kill. In that fraction of a second, the Agent was a second too late.
Some odd magic triggered from the Troll’s bracelet, and it made him completely still. Invulnerable as well. The sword had touched the Troll’s neck, and it was as if the weapon’s momentum had just vanished. No noise, no impact, no wounds.
Sabah sent Alex to figure that out. It turned out Champion’s bracelets were special. A stasis-spell triggers when the wearer’s life is in imminent danger. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. If that magic triggered, it meant the wearer was a moment away from true death.
Needless to say, this kind of deck was obscenely expensive. By causing the life-saving enchantment to trigger in a sparring match, the Einherjar had broken the rules. He got disqualified from the Trials and Sabah hadn’t seen him since. From then on, she always noticed an Agent near each of their groups. Ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.
So. Intel.
Sabah was fighting because they had to learn. No more. No less.
She grinned as she accepted the prompt. It was only a coincidence that she loved fighting. She walked closer to the center, cracking her neck and rotating her shoulder as she did. Her eyes never left the smaller figure in front of her. Purple dots tracked her back.
Sabah assumed the dots were eyes. She couldn’t see through the darkness cast by the mask. Studying it, Sabah was reminded of Venetian masks, although it was simpler and less decorated, and seemed to fit perfectly. Then… Sabah paused and stole a glance toward the crowd.
For some reason, the crowd had grown quiet.
Did it have to do with her opponent?
She focused back on her masked opponent. She noticed strands of long purple hair, peeking here and there. That, along with the thinner frame, the height, and the small hands, made her assume it was a woman.
Irritating. But also exciting. Because whoever this was, they were going to be frustrating to deal with. They were light on their feet. And a quick cursory glance showed close-fitting clothes under the cape and leather armor, along with thin-soled and tightly-laced boots. Sabah wasn’t particularly slow, but she had a feeling this person would be especially slippery. She’d fought this kind of fighter a couple of times already, and they had been a massive pain in the ass.
Her opponent straightened up and took off their hood. Long, pointy ears appeared, and hisses and curses rose from the crowd. The masked person half-bowed, unperturbed, with their fists held up just below their face, knuckles touching. Sabah returned the salute with the martial salute she knew; fist and palm against each other. They both snapped into their own stances. Before Sabah could take a step forward, her opponent’s hand lifted and touched the side of the mask.
Sabah watched the surface of the mask ripple, then change. The mouth opened up in a snarl. The eyes grew wider while the face itself grew rougher. Horns jutted out from the mask’s forehead, and when it stopped rippling, red seeped out of it like blood through cloth. A bloody outline appeared around the eyes that trailed down in a straight line. Then, her opponent started to grow.
Sabah’s jaw slackened, and her eyes grew wide. She was both horrified and excited.
Limbs lengthened. Luminescent claws jutted out from fingertips as the masked being’s frame filled up. It took only seconds, but now they loomed over Sabah.
She closed her mouth and took in the hulking figure in front of her. A nervous grin stretched on her lips. “Oh… shit.”
----------------------------------------
Sabah ducked to the left, and the bloodied claw flashed past her face an inch away. Air wooshed over her ear, instantly followed by sharp pain that made her grit her teeth.
She sidestepped away, creating as much distance as she could between her and her opponent while blood trickled down her neck.
The healers should be able to handle whatever happened to her ear. They’d healed worse.
She glanced down at the one card she’d limited herself to and cursed the empty slots she had stubbornly kept unoccupied.
I did that for training. It was worth it.
Still. Why did she feel like she was fighting for her life?
At this point it wasn’t as if more cards were going to help. She had barely enough mana for one last usage of any card. If she couldn’t land a good hit, this was going to be a loss.
She highlighted the variant she’d unlocked the day before and tapped her card. The variant seemed tailored for this sort of scenario.
[Enhanced Strength: I Match Your Strength].
She felt mana rush out of her chest and into her limbs in an instant before she felt it sink into her whole being. Then it ignited.
Power surged through her as her masked opponent rushed in, not willing to give her too much time to catch her breath, and Sabah’s grin was savage.
She stepped in and swung her fist into an uppercut.
Her knuckles connected with her opponent’s chest with an echoing crack that drowned out the crowd’s cheers. The massive figure was lifted off the ground for a second as Sabah roared in anger and pain. She felt something snap in her arm and for a long moment the masked behemoth’s whole body was in the air. When their feet touched the ground again, the figure buckled. They staggered back up, wheezing and retching. Blood dribbled from behind the mask, and Sabah thought she could see a hint of shock through the snarling rictus of the mask.
Sabah was panting as the roar of the crowd reached her ears. The Empowerment fizzled out, making her bones feel hollow as she stumbled backward. She’d been running on fumes before activating it and now her injuries came to the forefront.
Her right hand was hanging uselessly at her side, screaming with such pain it made her eyes water. Her left thigh was pulsing, still bleeding from an ugly gash she’d taken when her body had started to flag. It wasn’t as bad as her many other cuts and bruises, but she was getting light-headed… Her joints and muscles were painful both from the hits she received and from the stress she put them through with her card. This had been the third activation she’d managed. The initial two had lasted longer, being the base variant of the card. But even that form was taxing.
Damn. Her opponent was already back on their feet and circling. Her brain struggled to think clearly, and she reflexively edged left, keeping her opponent in front of her. What was this transformation? How long could they keep it? Those long limbs never seemed to slow down, and every swing was threatening to disembowel her or break her neck. Even glancing hits were doing way too much damage.
Well. As much as she disliked losing, this wasn’t the place for a fight to the death. She sighed.
I still hate it, though. “I surrender,” Sabah called out.
The lighting instantly changed above her, and Sabah frowned at the amount of booing mixed in with the cheers. She looked at the closest spectators, and the few who weren’t as confused as she was were glaring at her opponent. Some looked angry, others disgusted. She looked back toward her opponent and froze.
The massive figure was twitching. It struggled, taking a slow step forward, snarling violently as if invisible chains were pulling it backward. The snarling and growling was soon noticed by the crowd, who’d grown quieter.
The purple-eyed fighter inched forward again, their right arm slowly rising up toward their face, with the same jerky movements their steps had.
It was like two distinct personalities were struggling to control the massive body.
Sabah backed up a step. No one was intervening, and she wasn’t sure if she could keep fighting. One thing for sure, she could make a run for one of the exits. But there was no need.
When the masked figure took a fluid step forward, as if the aggressive personality had finally gained control, the hand shot up and touched the mask.
A roar escaped out of its throat, but it didn’t move another step.
The mask rippled, and slowly morphed back into the simpler, human-like face. Then the body followed, growing smaller. The claws dissolved into motes. The limbs shortened, and even through the ruckus of the crowd, Sabah could hear rattled breaths escape out of her opponent as they stumbled down to their knees.
A second later, Sabah watched the figure struggle up, and bend forward into a salute. Before Sabah had the chance to talk to them or return the salute, they turned away and trudged out of the cage toward the medic station.
“That was… something.”
Sabah turned toward Alex. He had just finished paying out the pot through his interface and was watching the figure receive medical attention. Which reminded her that she should be doing the same.
“I should get myself looked at,” she said, gesturing for Alex to follow.
They walked in silence for a few steps, before Alex spoke. “Noticed the booing?”
“Yup. Any ideas?”
“Not much. The term ‘knife-ears’ was thrown around a couple of times. But not much else. Definitely worth looking into, though.”
Sabah grunted in agreement. She tried to turn but her shoulder protested.
“They’re strong though. What do you think?”
Alex shrugged. “We could ask. They could be a frontline along with you. Maybe once you’re fixed up though.” He looked her up and down, then looked back to the book he had already purchased. Something about wards that he’d tried to explain but it made Sabah’s eyes glaze over. “We’ll have to ask some questions.”
She grunted as she sat down, and the healer who’d already patched her up so many times walked forward. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed the couple of sheep Beastfolk who had been observing her over the last two matches finally turn and leave. “Sheep people again.”
Alex looked up. “Oh yeah! I forgot about them. They were asking if we’re part of a team already or not.”
Sabah slowly turned to him and winced as the healer cataloged her injuries. “When were you going to mention that?” He shrugged, not glancing up from his book, and she smiled as she shook her head. “Fine. But keep an eye on that masked person. I’ve got a good feeling about them.”
Alex looked up. “Is that because everybody else around here seems to hate their guts?”
“Shut up.” Sabah glanced at the healer, and he was very intent on the injury on her thigh. “Do you know about the masked people?”
The healer glanced up, and seemed to consider their words for a moment. “Half-elves. Their practices are… frowned upon. Among other things.” He straightened back up and took a step back. “Please stay still.”
Sabah and Alex shared a glance, then looked at the masked person who’d just finished receiving a healer’s attention while a spell circled and flashed around Sabah.
Once this was over, she was going to have a quick word with the masked Half-Elf, then talk to the sheep people, then go for a bite.
She was starving.
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When Salem finally dragged himself back to his new team, he found them silently–and ravenously–stuffing their faces in a ramen shop. The square wooden table was piled up with drinks and appetizers, but having already eaten, it didn’t look so appetizing.
At least they could appreciate good food.
Heavy-lidded eyes turned to him when he approached, then Frank looked back down at his plate and pulled another mouthful. Salem collapsed into the fourth chair, resisting the urge to put his head down on the table.
“Seems like the day was productive,” he said. He flagged a waiter, and when the young man approached him, he ordered. “Miso soup and some green tea, please. Whichever kind.”
The waiter nodded and swiftly stepped away, and Wilbur glanced up. “You’re not hungry?”
Salem shuddered. “I spent the day cooking and sampling recipes. I’m good. A small soup will be enough.”
Five or so minutes later they were all done. Salem sipped on the delightful green tea. It had a toasty after-taste that was a novel experience for him. He began to wonder what he could pair this tea with when Wilbur spoke up.
“So, are we going back out tomorrow or not?”
Hmm?
Salem glanced up. Esther was splayed over her chair, eyes half-closed while Wilbur had fully turned his chair to face a surprised Frank.
Are they stupid? “You guys are going back outside? Those guards will be waiting for you.”
Why would they even take such dumb risks?
Frank looked up to him and wanly smiled. “I want to visit the Guild of Souls. I want to know about my family. And about… other people.”
Oh.
Esther’s eyes flicked to Frank, and a small smile peeked through, but she said nothing. As for Salem… he had nothing to say that wouldn’t make him a giant hypocrite.
But he also didn’t hate these people. Not really. He leaned forward, chin on his hand, brow raised. “Do you have a plan for that Silver guard? We were six this morning, and we barely made it.”
Wilbur's ears twitched before he looked down, frowning.
That kid’s too hard on himself. “I’m not saying this to make any of you feel bad… But is there a plan?”
“One more day, Frankie. One more day to really get ready. And then we can pay him back.”
Frank sighed and leaned backward, and Salem saw the guilty relief wash over the man’s shoulder. “You’re probably right. I’m just… worried that–”
His words were drowned by a knocked chair that made him wince, then a voice bellowed.
“–piece of shit!”
Salem whirled just in time to hear the woof right next to him and see a large shape tackling Esther. The table rocked painfully into him and half his remaining tea spilled over his already-disgusting robes.
Esther was lying on her back, and someone was scrambling up to straddle her. Long, black curly hair fell over wide and muscular shoulders. Salem watched Frank rush to separate the two and he thought he saw the man pause for an instant before stepping in.
But before he could do anything, the attacker punched down, and their fist… never landed. Esther’s wheezing and struggle turned to shock for a moment, before a nervous grin spread across her lips.
A shimmering blue panel of light separated the fist from Esther’s face.
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A neutral voice resounded in their ear, and a smaller Agent than those they had seen so far approached, its hand extended toward the duo on the ground. Frank tensed.
“Violence is not permitted in the Hall outside of the sparring areas. Please resolve your issues outside of the Hall or within the training areas. Further hostilities will not be tolerated,” it said in an even voice.
The familiar stranger rose and backed up a step, and the Agent’s hand dropped along with the barrier.
Esther sat up, then nimbly got to her feet. She winced, a smile still on her lips, and Frank cursed inwardly. He knew what was about to happen.
She smiled up toward the dark-haired woman who had a good foot on her and winked. “If all you wanted was a tumble, start by buying me a drink.”
A tense silence hung over the area, while outside of it some watchers hooped and egged them on. Then the stranger lunged.
A man screamed something as he reached for the dark-haired woman, his voice lost in the cheering crowd, and it was at that point the memory finally clicked.
The Agent’s hand moved, and Sabah slammed into a blue barrier.
Esther was staring at the Agent, all traces of mirth gone from her face. Everyone was silent for a moment. His eyes flickered to the stranger, having finally recognized her.
Sabah Al Fawzi. Morningstar. She’d died two decades prior to Frank’s retirement. And with her, Alexander Vink. Spider.
Frank swallowed hard, feeling a shiver going down his spine.
These two would have been the perfect addition to their burgeoning team. A heavy hitter and ex-SAS, and an intel and logistics expert. If it wasn’t for the fact that both Frank and Esther had been part of the assignment that led to Sabah’s death. Indirectly. And rather unfortunately. But it had been the Cold War, and they’d been on opposite sides.
Not to mention the personal history between Esther and Sabah.
The Agent encased Sabah in a blue bubble and carried her off. Alex followed her, but not before shooting an indifferent look backward. He met Frank’s eyes, then walked away.
Frank gestured to Esther, who caught his eyes. They grabbed Wilbur and Salem–who kept nervously glancing back toward the Agent then back at Esther–and slunk away from the crowd. As they walked, Frank didn’t dare think of what other surprise encounters were waiting for them.
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After an excruciatingly long day, Frank felt the sweet touch of a pillow against his cheek and almost wept.
Next to him, he heard his fellow teammates drop against their own beds, and their groans weren’t enough to ruin his enjoyment of the moment. It did for Esther, though.
“All their marble and gold, and they couldn’t give us separate rooms?”
Frank chuckled, already feeling himself sink into the mattress.
Salem answered the still standing Esther. “We get separate rooms when we get through the first Trial. Same for the kitchen and training space. I had to share utensils with a dozen other cooks today. You don’t see me complaining.”
She threw a pillow at him. He didn’t react.
“I heard we get our own quarters after the third,” said Wilbur as he sat on the edge of his own bed, his small hand brushing the covers absentmindedly.
After finding an Agent and asking where they should sleep, the Agent had led the four of them to one of many doorways that led into a solid wall. After a closer examination, Frank noticed the many thin and intricate runes lining the edges of the marble doorways.
After confirming they were effectively a team–and officially registering them as such–the Agent assigned them a room number. When they got close to the doorway, a prompt popped up in Frank’s interface, and that was it.
It was a wide and well-lit living space. No windows, but there was comfortable seating, a crackling fireplace and even a dining space that had a table with a large platter of complimentary snacks. Cheeses, fruits, and nuts were arranged into an impeccable spread.
Frank looked at none of the food, while Esther and Salem examined it for a short moment. They were all too full to indulge.
Beyond the common space was a small hallway with two doors. One that led to a bathroom, and one to the current room that had four beds arranged in a single file. The room was spotless. And… minimalistic.
It reminded Frank of hospitals. But he was too tired to dwell on that.
He should have taken a shower before putting on the white cotton pajamas that had been waiting on each of their beds, but he couldn’t get himself to get back up.
Tomorrow. Definitely.
Get up early, do some card shopping. And training.
Esther sighed. Frank hadn’t noticed her leaving, but she came back after putting on her own set of white pajamas. Her previously worn clothes were rolled into a ball that she put at the foot of her bed. “Four nights of this and then we get our own rooms.” She looked up and pointed in the trio’s general direction. “No farting.”
Frank laughed despite the heaviness in his bones. He could feel the chatter around him but it sounded like white noise. And as sleep took him, a buzz ran through his whole being.
He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t even move. It felt like a case of sleep paralysis, but without the fear that would permeate that state. No.
It felt like a deep meditation. Peaceful. Content. And extremely aware of his own body and mind. As if time had been suspended while Frank’s mind just…was.
Then the tranquility was shaken. He felt something build up in his chest.
It pulsed rhythmically, building up more and more. It was resonating with his bracelet, somehow, and when it reached a threshold it burst out.
A warmth flowed out of his chest, spreading like a river from his heart to his arms, to his feet, to his head, filling him with a sense of strength and vigor. As if he could jump out of bed and sprint a whole marathon. Then a prompt popped in front of him.
Levels gained have been assimilated.
Growth Factor-Dexterity has been assimilated.
Then the meditative state faded away, and drowsiness blanketed his senses within seconds as sleep claimed his consciousness back. The last thought he had was that he still hadn’t asked what Growth Factors were.
----------------------------------------
Days until the first Trial: 3
Frank stood in front of the doorway leading out of the Hall of Champions and breathed deep. The strength from the meal Salem had given him–on his own volition–was coursing through him, and his new card was slotted and ready for use.
It could also be the new levels and the second assimilation he had gone through. Or the brand new leather armor he was wearing. He’d miss his old clothes, but they weren’t made for this sort of work.
The cloak still felt a bit silly, but he couldn’t say it didn’t look good.
The day before had been very productive and the delay most definitely worth it. For the first time in the couple of days since he’d been brought back to life, he felt ready.
“Tick-tock, Frankathan,” said the voice in his interface.
Frank ignored her. This team-chatting functionality was going to be the end of him.
“Tell us as soon as he shows up, mister Frank. We’ll come right away.”
“Just Frank’s fine, Wilbur. And I will.”
The two of them would be waiting near the door. Inside, in case things went south. He hoped to not need them, but after the torture Khaa and another trainer had put them through–and the levels they had gained–all of them were willing to take some risks for extra rewards before the Trials.
And a bit of payback wouldn’t hurt anyone. Aside from Tasos, that is.
Frank exhaled. “Alright. Time to get some answers,” he said, mostly to himself, then stepped out into the early morning light of Tinecea.