Conjuring up a bigger Water Ball might not have seemed like a groundbreaking achievement on the surface. It couldn't be used to strike down foes, shield himself from danger, or lift the curse Michelle had saddled him with.
But the implications behind that unassuming orb dwarfed the spell itself.
It had illuminated a path for Benjamin, a road that could lead to true arcane might.
Though he still didn't know how to learn new incantations or sense other elemental types, in this moment, he could feel the first stirrings of confidence in his magical aptitude, a fragile certainty taking root in his heart.
When it came to the mystic arts, he was no longer fumbling blind!
"What's the big deal? So you figured out how to feed elements to a magic rune to make it grow. Hardly brain surgery," the AI chimed in, as doggedly determined as ever to rain on Benjamin's parade.
"Y'know, you're really asking for a smack lately," Benjamin shot back, his patience wearing thin.
"My bad, oh wise and mighty one. Truly, your genius knows no bounds," the AI replied, changing its tune with dizzying speed.
"…"
Benjamin couldn't even muster the energy to snark back.
But melodramatic AI aside, he was finally snapping out of his magical reverie and considering his situation with clearer eyes. Glancing up at the tightly sealed iron door, he took stock of just how long he'd been languishing in this basement cell. Between his initial rest, Marie's visit, and the dozen-odd hours he'd spent lost in arcane experimentation… if his sense of time hadn't gone completely out of whack, it should've been early morning of the next day by now.
Then again, stuck in this sunless pit with no way to track the passage of day and night, he couldn't be entirely certain.
Just how long would it take for Claude's temper to cool? When would he deign to spring Benjamin from this musty prison?
His manservant Jeremy should've returned from his errand ages ago. Though Benjamin could no longer recall the exact nature of the task he'd sent the boy to handle, he knew he needed to keep Jeremy hopping if he wanted to draw the Church's attention elsewhere and get his mitts on Annie's legacy pronto.
Time was of the essence… but not TOO much of the essence. Michelle's curse hung over his head like a ticking time bomb, the threat of its detonation an ever-present specter. He dreaded the thought of danger rearing its head again before he'd gained the strength to face her as an equal.
But fretting about it now would achieve precisely zilch.
His father's whims were anyone's guess, and he had no way of knowing how much headway Marie was making with her attempts at intercession. Out there beyond the door, anything could be unfolding. All he could do was heave a sigh and try to relax, to quell the restless anxiety churning in his gut.
No matter how urgently he wished to be free, he couldn't exactly phase through the walls. This pint-sized basement was his entire world for the foreseeable future.
Somehow, that realization brought with it a strange sense of peace.
Staring up at the ceiling, he let his mind drift for a spell, taking a moment to recharge after the mental gymnastics of his earlier "meditation". Oh yes, Benjamin had decided on the spot to christen his new elemental absorption technique "meditation".
Sure, it might've been a touch clichéd, but hey - when it came to naming conventions, easy memorization was the name of the game. And it wasn't like he was trying to pen the next great fantasy epic here. Why waste brainpower dreaming up some ten-dollar, overwrought moniker when it wouldn't make his "meditation" any more effective?
After a few minutes spent in idle contemplation, restlessness began to set in once more. He was a little peckish, but not ravenous, a little drowsy, but not dead on his feet.
Welp, may as well get his "meditation" on again.
Sprawling out on the cold stone floor, Benjamin let his eyes flutter shut in a pantomime of slumber, just in case anyone came barging in and started asking questions. But in the privacy of his mindscape, he was already sinking back into that familiar mental realm, reaching out to the water elements again and again, slowly but surely strengthening that central blue triangle…
The meditative process was frustratingly sluggish, much to his chagrin. But try as he might, he couldn't divine a way to optimize it.
This time, however, his meditation was cut short long before he could fuse every last ambient element into the ravenous rune.
Because for the first time ever, he found himself unceremoniously yanked out of his mindscape by an external stimulus.
It was a singularly unpleasant sensation, akin to being shaken awake mere moments after nodding off. His head swam with muzzy disorientation, a distant annoyance prickling under his skin. A clamor of voices echoed in his ears, dragging him up from the depths of his trance state whether he liked it or not.
"Young master! Young master! Time to rise and shine! Young master!"
Benjamin's eyes snapped open, only to be greeted by a looming face mere inches from his own. He jerked back with a startled yelp, his heart racing a mile a minute.
As the initial shock wore off, recognition dawned.
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It was Jeremy, his manservant.
And Jeremy wasn't alone. There, standing in the open doorway, was Benjamin's mother Marie, a gentle smile playing about her lips as she gazed upon her son. The formerly sealed iron portal yawned wide behind her, the perpetual gloom of the basement easing up just a fraction.
Benjamin blinked dumbly for a moment, his sleep-addled brain struggling to process this turn of events.
He was finally getting out.
But he tamped down on the urge to bolt for the door, instead casting a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before asking in a deliberately meek tone, "What about Father? Is he not coming? Has he forgiven me?"
He pitched his voice a little higher than usual, letting just a hint of nerves bleed through. Gotta really sell that filial piety.
"It seems there's been some trouble with our southern holdings. Your father rode out to deal with it personally. I don't expect him back for at least a week," Marie explained, her smile gentle and reassuring. "But he did instruct us to release you before departing. So don't you worry, he's not angry with you anymore."
At her words, Benjamin exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
And not just because he was finally free of his makeshift dungeon. The news of Claude leaving town was a welcome surprise. Sure, his show of quaking in his boots had been just that - a calculated bit of playacting. But deep down, he couldn't deny that butting heads with his "father" was more trouble than it was worth.
"Thank you, Mother. I truly didn't know how much longer I could stand it down here," Benjamin replied, turning his most pitiful puppy-dog eyes on Marie.
"It's alright now, sweetheart. We can go," Marie said soothingly, before turning to address Jeremy. "Please escort the young master back to his chambers. It's quite late, so have Cook fix him a little something to tide him over, then help him wash up and prepare for bed."
Jeremy hastened to bow, stammering out an eager "Yes, ma'am!"
And so, with his two faithful allies at his side, Benjamin finally took his leave of that thrice-accursed basement. As he stepped out into the night-dark grounds, he realized with a start that it was already evening of the following day.
He had spent a full day and night in that tiny basement. Clearly, his sense of time was indeed quite muddled during the meditation process.
Climbing the stairs and traversing the long corridors of the Lither family manor, he returned to his bedroom with Jeremy leading the way. After bidding Benjamin goodnight, Marie also turned and left, retiring to her own room to rest.
"Young master, please wait a moment. I'll go ask the cook to prepare some food for you."
Once they'd entered the room, Jeremy said this to Benjamin before turning to leave as well.
Benjamin had wanted to stop him and ask how the errand he'd assigned earlier was progressing. But considering Jeremy would be right back, he decided not to press the issue.
After another lengthy bout of meditation, he found himself too drained to press anything at the moment. Exhaustion crashed over him like a tidal wave, and all he wanted was to collapse onto his soft, comfortable bed. Let the sky fall and the ground crumble, he'd sleep until the end of time.
And so, he walked to the bedside and flopped down on his luxurious mattress, rolling about and stretching languidly.
"Ahh, I never want to get up again!" he called out lazily.
"Really?" the AI asked.
"…As if. I wish, but reality won't allow it. The daily grind is too brutal. No rest for the wicked, as they say," Benjamin sighed, answering thusly.
Hearing this, the AI fell silent for a moment. Then, abruptly changing tack, it said in a low voice, "Is that so? And here I thought you'd discovered what's under your pillow."
Benjamin stopped his rolling about.
"What thing?" he asked, his tone growing serious upon detecting the gravity in the AI's voice.
"You're asking me? Why don't you take a look for yourself!" If the AI had a face, it would've surely rolled its eyes while saying this.
Benjamin didn't argue, immediately flipping over his pillow. There on the pristine white sheets lay an equally pristine white letter. The envelope was perfectly sealed, with no signs of tampering.
Seeing this, Benjamin's heart sank as a thought occurred to him.
"I've got a bad feeling about this…"
With a sense of trepidation, he took a deep breath and picked up the letter, giving it a quick once-over. Unfortunately, his worst fears were realized. There on the back of the immaculate envelope, written in black ink, was that nightmarish name he knew all too well:
Michelle.
Benjamin felt his blood run cold.
Clinging to a sliver of hope, he checked it carefully two more times to make sure he hadn't misread the name due to sloppy handwriting. But the result was just as disheartening. That word was undoubtedly "Michelle", a thousand times "Michelle".
Was this retribution?
The fact that Michelle had managed to slip this letter under his pillow, right under the Church's watchful eye, was indeed a bit unsettling. And for Benjamin, this was hardly a welcome surprise.
After repeatedly confirming with the AI that he didn't know anyone else named "Michelle", he felt a twinge of regret for the cover story he'd spun for the Archbishop.
"What's meant to come will always find its way," the AI suddenly said, its tone growing warm and intimate. "Whether a letter, a greeting card, or a text message, a dreamer's voice will never be silenced. Carrying your past, capturing your present, creating your future - ensuring the vastness of distance will never dim your dreams."
"…"
Though a bit exasperated, hearing the AI's incomprehensible rambling did help Benjamin feel a bit less on edge.
Once he'd collected himself, he realized he was no longer Michelle's hostage. She had long since lost the power to dictate his fate. With the Church in his corner, he could finally take control.
During the kidnapping, Michelle couldn't best him. Now that he was free, there was even less to fear.
No matter what Michelle said in this letter, no matter what traps awaited him, he just needed to face them with a level head. After all, weren't the Church's people still around? He could easily hand this letter over to the Church and let them handle it. The most powerful force on the continent had his back now.
It wasn't that he trusted the Church implicitly; he just knew they wouldn't allow a nobleman to come to harm right under their noses.
Just give the letter to the Church!
His mind made up, Benjamin wasted no time tearing open the envelope.
However, the first line on the first page of the letter hit him like a punch to the gut, completely upending all of Benjamin's plans. It read:
"You have a gift for magic. In ten days, I will come to teach you."
After a moment of stunned disbelief, Benjamin realized he had lost the option of handing the letter over to the Church.
He saw the implicit threat behind those words.
With a single sentence, Michelle had cut off any possibility of Benjamin seeking help from the Church. He couldn't possibly give this letter to the Archbishop now. If the Archbishop saw that line, he would immediately uncover Benjamin's magical abilities. He'd be dead before he could even blink. Therefore, he could only weather this wicked witch's malice alone.
It was as if Michelle could read his mind, anticipating his every thought with eerie accuracy.
This was what disturbed him the most.
In this moment, Benjamin found his situation hadn't improved at all. No, if anything, it had taken a turn for the worse. At least before, Michelle didn't know he could use magic. He'd used that fact to gain the upper hand and escape back to the Lither family. But now, Michelle was already starting to use that very knowledge against him.
Would Michelle really teach him magic?
Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't. But whether she taught him or not, Benjamin's life was still very much in Michelle's hands. Unless he broke the curse, he could only dance to this woman's tune, bending to her every whim.
In just a few short moments, cold sweat had soaked through Benjamin's shirt.
The game of death had begun anew.
The game of death had never truly ended.