“Just as the effects of cruelty cannot be undone by kindness, the misfortune brought by veltun cannot be negated by veran. The price which veltun demands must always be paid.”
From “The Book of Veltun” By Nocteus
1st Teril, Autumn, 375th Year, 84th Era, 2nd Age (21 days later)
Nathan sat cross legged in the middle of the stone floored corner of his apartment. On his chest, a palm sized disc of platinum shone bright purple, tinting the area in front of him. It sent waves of pain emanating out from his heart, pulsing higher and lower to make it harder for him to adapt.
All around him short, pencil thin lines of distorted air moved through a series of patterns again and again. Lines became triangles then squares, pentagons and hexagons. On and on they went, decreasing in number as the amount of sides increased. Eventually, a single thirty-two-sided polygon wavered in the air for a few moments before collapsing in on itself.
There was a brief pause as Nathan rested, then the lines returned. This time they twisted together to form a rope, barely discernible to the naked eye but with distinct threads to those with high level aura perception. Slowly, Nathan added more and more threads to the rope until he once again reached the limit of his skill and they began blurring together.
After that he spent a few minutes compressing his aura inside the boundary of his spiritual body, hiding it behind the mesh of tethers which made up his mind. That was the only part of his routine which had a practical application. By retracting a part of his aura inside his spiritual body he brought it within the area covered by his isolation node, making that part undetectable to anyone other than himself.
Since the single greatest factor affecting a mortal’s aura strength was age, Nathan’s aura was unusually weak. That in turn made it very easy for him to fully conceal his aura. To compensate, Nathan practiced compressing it as much as he could. With his new skills having reached level seven, he could fit his aura inside the heart of his spirit, holding it within the tight mesh of aether that mirrored his nerves.
Nathan’s potent aethereoception gave him a significant advantage over most people. It was normally quite challenging for a person to fully conceal their aura before around level twenty. Of course, most people deliberately left part of their aura exposed, since fully retracting it shut off their aura senses.
As Initiate Douglas had demonstrated several weeks ago, the difficulty of manipulating your aura was significantly higher if you couldn’t perceive the spiritual plane. On the other hand, most people had terrible aura perception so it wasn’t really a problem.
An hour or so later, after he had gone through the cycle several more times, a small platinum bell floated off the floor and began ringing itself. When the first peals sounded, the enchantment on Nathan’s chest cut off and he allowed the immaterial rope before him to collapse. With a snap of his fingers, the bell stopped ringing and set itself back down.
As he began removing his harness, Nathan turned to look at Marius. His Aura Control teacher was sat in a chair placed just outside the training area. There were enchantments on the large square of stone that prevented anything from leaving it while active. Nathan’s pitiful aura wasn’t a danger to anyone, but there was a principle to uphold.
“How did I do?” Nathan asked.
“I would say that you are still around the equivalent of level seven and a half, sir. However, at the rate you have been improving I believe that you will reach 7.8 just after the skill next levels up,” Marius answered, referencing a small notebook that appeared in his hand.
“That’s good, it’s nice to know I’m still on target,” Nathan said as he wandered over to sit in a second chair next to the butler. “I don’t suppose you have any practice routines that are less… numerically intense? There’s only so far that I can use chunking to cover for my lack of scope.”
Chunking was a visualisation technique common among mages. It involved constructing a shape from smaller, identical parts, which allowed mages to make more complex shapes from their element than they would otherwise be able to. Although, since it also made their constructs more regular and thus more predictable, it was less popular among combatants.
“It shouldn’t really be a problem, so long as you push at your limits hard enough the rate at which you level will stay steady,” Marius replied.
“I know,” Nathan said, shrugging, “but it would be nice to have something I can make actual progress with.”
“You could try making images, but you don’t have much material to work with. Your aura is still quite small after all.” Marius frowned a little in thought. “Maybe, you could attempt to isolate specific parts of your aura. You won’t be able to make any real progress with it, but it would help you level.”
“Is it like transmutation?” Nathan asked.
“Isolating aura components is typically reserved for those with at least half a dozen class levels, if that is what you mean.”
“Right, we might as well add that to the cycle then.”
“If that is what you wish to do. So long as you are pushing some aspect of Aura Control, your progress shouldn’t be impeded. It will probably take an hour or two before you get a proper grasp on how to attempt isolation, but I doubt that will have a significant impact on your schedule.”
“Excellent, I look forward to it,” Nathan said.
And indeed, he did. Aura Control may not have been considered magic by the people of Kelric, but it was still fairly magical to Nathan. It was fun as well, if you ignored the pain.
Even the pain wasn’t that bad. Well, no, it was extremely bad. But he was used to it. The lack of any long-term psychological effects may also have warped his perspective slightly.
Marius checked the time on a pocket watch that he manifested from his storage ring. “It is just past noon, we are late. I shall return in a few minutes.”
With that, the butler traded his pocket watch for a folded carpet of woven platinum. He stepped out onto the balcony and threw the carpet off the side. As the bundle of metallic cloth started to fall, it unfolded itself in a flash of purple light. It floated in line with the balcony wall, colouring everything around it with the light of its enchantments.
As Marius rushed off on the flying carpet, Nathan moved over to a seat closer to the frost flame in the middle of the room. For a while he just sat there with his eyes closed. He felt the flows of animus in his mind slowing in the same way that his blood would slow after he finished a workout.
Once he felt sufficiently rested, he reached out and started moving the ambient mana around in loosely controlled swirls. He would be scolded if he did too much before Elder Haelend had a chance to look over his mind.
The more rebellious, impatient side of him wanted to just get on with more training, but it was a reasonable request. And aggravating the woman who kept him sane seemed like a bad idea.
With that in mind, he stuck to moving just a few rels. That was actually one of the weird things about Kelric, everything was made from the same thing: essence. And rels were the unit of essence. A universal unit of measurement. Almost anything imaginable could be measured in rels, from time itself to the warmth of the sun or even the blood in your veins.
While rels obviously had an enormous number of uses in alchemy, most people used rels to compare the skill of mages. It made it easy to compare the relative strengths of people who controlled radically different elements, like earth and lightning for example.
Though from Nathan’s experience, any such discussion would inevitably devolve into an argument about which element was better. It was lightning, obviously.
After a while, Marius returned with Elder Haelend, the carpet folding itself up and disappearing once they had stepped off of it. The elder healer looked at the weak eddies of mana suspiciously for a moment before moving to sit next to Nathan. She was dressed in fairly plain non-combatant robes, though they were still more decorated than those that Lucas preferred.
The robes that non-combatants wore were nearly all identical in structure. A high collared shift that hung to just above the ankles, covered by a thin, open fronted robe that reached slightly lower than the shift. The robe would then be held in place, open or closed according to the wearer’s preference, by a wide sash. It was similar to a cummerbund, but stayed wide all the way around.
The variety came from colour and decoration. Traditionally, colour indicated a seeker’s affiliation. If Nathan were a non-combatant seeker, rather than a mortal, he would wear the same pale green as Elder Ashbourne to show that he was a beneficiary of the house.
Grey was worn by employees of the state, like Lucas or the various administrators of the councils. There wasn’t an official colour for those without affiliation, but black was always left unclaimed by any house to serve as a neutral colour.
The decorations of a robe typically expressed more individual characteristics. A bio-alchemist, for example, might have an assortment of plants and animals embroidered on their robes. Elder Ashbourne had everything from flying carpets to storage rings, and Elder Haelend’s robes were decorated with patterns of circles and linking threads. Anyone with decent aethereoception would recognise them as a depiction of the mind.
On the particular robe that the Lady Elder was wearing at that moment, the embroidery was limited to edges. The sleeves, the hem, and the top and bottom of the sash. The last of the grey was gone from her hair, and the few wrinkles that had been present when Nathan first awoke had completely disappeared.
“You haven’t been doing too much extra training, have you?” she asked, glancing at the now slowing swirls of mana.
“Of course not,” Nathan replied as they moved their chairs so that they were sat with their legs interlocked. “Despite what you seem to think, I am not completely insane.”
“So, you would concede that you are at least slightly insane.” Elder Haelend placed her hands either side of Nathan’s head, with her palms not quite touching his ears.
“Obviously. I torture myself on a daily basis in pursuit of agelessness. I’d have to be a little mad to do that.”
He felt the moment that the elder reached into his mind. Small tendrils of restoration mana snaked into the network of essence that made up his mind unhindered by his control node.
The original purpose of the control node was to block the deleterious effects of mana. Restoration mana was the only type that was not blocked by it. There were still a few ways that uncontrolled restoration mana could harm a person, but on the whole, being open to restoration mana had more benefits for a species than drawbacks.
As such, Elder Haelend’s mana could slip into Nathan’s mind and get to work repairing the tiny cracks and tears in his nuclei and discs. They weren’t technically damage, though they certainly looked like it to the untrained eye. According to the elder, that was just what new mental pathways looked like when they started forming.
What she had to do was pick out the pathways that represented traumas, delusions, or any other kind of mental instability, while leaving the pathways that were supposed to be there alone. Given the absurd complexity of a human mind, it was an impossible task for someone without at least an adept’s worth of mental stats.
After a few minutes, and the occasional tingling sensation from his mind, it was done. Elder Haelend sat back in her chair and took a cup of farin from Marius, who then handed a second cup to Nathan.
“I have to say, if I hadn’t helped to make that awful device, I wouldn’t believe that the pain was anywhere close to as high as it actually is,” the elder said, glancing over at the chair where Nathan had left the harness.
“I can’t imagine many people train Trauma Tolerance to level ten,” Nathan replied as he scooted his seat back so that their knees were no longer touching.
“True, most people with more than three or four levels in Trauma Tolerance are close to non-functional. The only way to fix something like that is brute force, and you can never quite restore everything.” The elder grimaced a little, staring at nothing for a moment before focusing back on Nathan.
“Thankfully, that sort of thing is quite rare. In a way, you were lucky. If Elder Ashbourne had been a few minutes slower, your condition would have been far worse, had you survived.”
“Very comforting, Lady Elder.”
She had the good grace to look embarrassed.
“Sorry, I’ve always had a terrible bedside manner. Not the most desirable trait in a mental healer.”
“I think the immense skill and power more than compensate for that,” Nathan said with a wry smile.
“That’s no excuse,” Elder Haelend replied, “but I’ll take the compliment.” She stood up, placing her cup on one of the tables. “I believe it is time to go, Marius.”
“As you say ma’am,” the butler responded, heading over to the balcony once more.
“See you tomorrow,” Nathan said, standing with the elder.
“Indeed, I will see you tomorrow. Do try not to drive yourself too much more insane before then,” Elder Haelend replied, following Marius out.
Once again on his own, Nathan headed back to the training area. In the far corner, a collection of weights had been set up. Conveniently, enchantments allowed him to work on his stat training without a spotter.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
3rd Waril, Autumn, 375th Year, 84th Era, 2nd Age (13 days later)
Within the high council chamber, five hundred adepts sat in solemn silence. For the first time in close to four decades, every elder of Kathresh was present for the meeting. Elder Maxim was, as always, seated in the middle. Joseph sat on the left, between Elder Haelend and Elder Fairgrave, while elders Varith, Kerril and Marigold sat to the right.
“As we are all aware,” Elder Maxim said, looking around the room before focusing on the woman standing at the centre of the floor, “there is only one item on today’s agenda. If you would be so kind as to summon your goddess, Madam Almarin”
“Of course, Lord Elder,” the vessel of Mhyrra replied, every bit as unflappable as the last time Joseph had met her. Thinking back to his previous meeting with the Lady of Exchange, he had a terrible feeling that this negotiation would not involve quite as much dignity as anyone in the room might hope.
For a few moments, the vessel stood with her eyes closed before opening them to reveal two swirling, shifting orbs of paper and ink.
“Afternoon.”
There was a moment of awkward quiet as they felt the goddess’ aura swell through the room. Elder Maxim recovered soon enough however.
“Greetings, Lady Mhyrra, on behalf of the high council of Kathresh.”
Mhyrra looked at the elder diviner just long enough to make it clear that she had heard him, before breaking into a wide grin and turning to look at Joseph.
“Elder Ashbourne, it’s been so long. I’m sure you’ve been taking good care of Master Nathan. How is my favourite investment doing?”
“Don’t you mean person?” Joseph replied, assuming it would be easier to just lean into the informality.
“I know what I said,” the goddess said, her smile growing.
Joseph allowed a small sigh to escape before answering. He doubted that the goddess would be offended. If anything, she’d probably find it funny.
“Master Nathan is doing wonderfully. Far better, in fact, than one would have expected for a person in his position.”
“Excellent.”
Both Joseph himself and the council as a whole had done an enormous amount of research into Mhyrra in preparation for this meeting. Everything they had found suggested that, true to her title, the Lady of Fairness never violated the spirit of an agreement. Which meant that there was no chance of her killing Nathan for his ability, or something similarly unpleasant. As such, he could indulge in some childish point scoring.
“Indeed. Finding a viable method to obtain agelessness cheered him up no end.” Joseph permitted himself a slightly smug smile as the goddess froze, seeming genuinely shocked.
“Is that a joke?” the deific fae asked, a strange tension in her voice.
“No, it is not,” Joseph answered. It was much easier to stay calm around the goddess when he wasn’t stressed out of his mind.
Mhyrra stared at him for a long moment, the tension from his fellow councillors building as the silence stretched on and on. Then she burst out laughing.
Great, echoing cackles filled the room as she doubled over, arms clutching her torso. They grew in volume until it seemed as if Madam Almarin’s form couldn’t withstand the emotion trying to express itself through her body.
As Mhyrra’s mirth pushed her vessel’s voice beyond what it could stand, the increasingly horse laughter tapered off only to be replaced by an aura of unfathomable strength. It swept out from the middle of the room, carrying with it a riptide of amusement. The once stern hall was filled with hilarity, the dark wood of the benches and walls warped into a kaleidoscope of bright colours.
In an instant, every joke he had ever heard forced its way to the front of his head. Every amusing memory, every second of merriment stood out in perfect focus as ancient, alien laughter surrounded them. The elders managed to contain themselves, but there were more than a few panicked chuckles from the benches.
Eventually, Mhyrra’s aura withdrew and the room returned to its normal form. The goddess stood before them, relaxed, and wiped at the twin tracks of tears running from her eyes.
“I should introduce him to Asmodeus, the old bastard would have a field-day.”
“Please don’t,” Joseph said, forcing his tone into slightly exasperated calm. He had anticipated many possible reactions, but he certainly hadn’t seen that coming.
Elder Maxim cleared his throat, drawing the room’s attention to him.
“If you’re quite finished establishing dominance, do you think we could move on to something a little more productive?”
Mhyrra pouted at him. “You’re doing it wrong. You’re supposed to be a gibbering mess, horrified by the eldritch nature of the creature before you. What’s wrong with you?”
The elder diviner snorted. “The ideal plane makes you look like a puppy. Now could we please get to the issue at hand?”
“Oh, fine. Outline your request,” she said, rolling her eyes and sitting down on thin air.
“Thank you,” Elder Maxim replied. “Quite simply, we want you to concentrate the retaliation of the curse of Kathresh onto a single member of this council when we break the curse just before the moment of their death.”
“Will you need me to set up an automatic trigger ahead of time? Because that will increase the price.”
“No, we will break the curse on the ninth Saril of Winter this year.”
“Ahh, you calculated the exact times of death. So, who’s the poor sap that’s dying first?”
There was some awkward coughing from the benches. The insufferable fae had the tact of an artillery shell. The fact that she did it on purpose only made it more annoying.
“Lord Adept Michael Yates will bear the burden,” Elder Maxim answered.
“Lovely,” Mhyrra said, summoning paper and a pen from thin air. “Well, I suppose that brings us to the price.”
“Indeed. It is our understanding that deals you make with nations tend to use money as the basis for exchange.”
“That is correct,” the goddess said, “I find it’s easier to set a monetary price than to find something personally relevant to every individual in a country. Though I should warn you that the price will be exorbitant. Somewhere in the region of nine thousand wings.”
Joseph’s eyes widened slightly. That was nine hundred billion rings, over fifty percent of Kathresh’s annual GDP.
“Yes,” Elder Maxim said, after a moment, “we certainly expected it to be… expensive. However, we believe there is a way to mitigate the cost.”
“Oh?” Mhyrra leaned forward, “Do tell.”
"We will pay the price ourselves, as individuals,” Elder Maxim explained, a hint of pride entering his voice.
The goddess blinked, pausing to think before responding. “That would decrease the price to almost a twentieth. But proportionally speaking, it would still be horrific. And there would still be a knock-on effect to the rest of the economy. Are you quite sure?”
“Perfectly sure. We are adepts and elders; we will be fine. And the economic impact will be greatly decreased this way. Besides, the overwhelming quantity of opportunities that will be available as Kathresh opens itself up to witchcraft for the first time in twelve thousand years should help the city recover.”
“Very well, if you would each review and sign the contract, we will be finished.”
Mhyrra tapped her pen against the sheet of paper that she had been writing on as they discussed the price. It burst into a flock of five hundred and seven paper birds, each flying over to a councillor and unfolding themselves into a contract.
The terms were as they had discussed, and the price was set at five hundred wings. That amounted to roughly one hundred million rings each. Though naturally, the older houses like the Ashbournes and the Maxims would contribute more than their share to lower the burden on the smaller houses and unaffiliated councillors.
Over the course of several minutes, every councillor read through and signed the contract. With each signature, a small bird would fly back to the centre of the room and lay itself flat on the stack of papers floating in the air beside Mhyrra.
“Well then,” the goddess said once all the contracts were signed, making them disappear with a wave of her hand, “that’s us finished. Pleasure doing business with you.”
And then she vanished from the room.
“Maw bitten drama queen,” Elder Maxim muttered.
5th Faril, Autumn, 375th Year, 84th Era, 2nd Age (14 days later)
Nathan, Lucas and Marius were sat in a reading room near the top of the Kathreshi Central Library. The windows faced to the south-west, showing the wavering yellow blur of the Erril Desert stretching off far beyond the limit of mortal eyes.
Marius, ever the diligent teacher, was reviewing manuals on first tier Aura Control techniques. Nathan was less than two weeks away from reaching level ten in his newest skills. The butler was preparing to teach him the various things that they had skipped over to make the training process as quick as possible. Learning complicated aura techniques would obviously increase his skill level as well, but it wasn’t quite as time efficient as the brute force method that Nathan had chosen to use.
Nathan and Lucas were playing a game of layth by the frost flame. Nathan was losing terribly, which he’d seen coming a mile off. It was a shame really. Lucas had bet him the last scone that he wouldn’t be able to win a game while reading at the same time.
It had been quite a pleasant week from a food perspective. He had finally gotten the first levels in his three tolerance skills and Elder Haelend had insisted that he take a break for a week.
He would have preferred to wait a few more weeks so that it would line up with the general week off that he was going to have once his main skills reached level ten. Still, he couldn’t complain too much about being talked into eating nice food.
[You have gained the Toxicity Tolerance ability.]
[Toxicity Tolerance 1st Lvl 1: To better withstand your own personality. Your ability to endure toxicity is increased.]
[You have gained the Starvation Tolerance ability.]
[Starvation Tolerance 1st Lvl 1: Will help you survive in the wild, where you belong. Your ability to endure starvation is increased.]
[You have gained the Thirst Tolerance ability.]
[Thirst Tolerance 1st Lvl 1: Do you not know how to use a tap? Your ability to endure thirst is increased.]
[You have gained a level in Learning.]x3
[You have gained a level in Verlesse Mastery.]x3
[You have gained a level in Aura Control.]x3
[You have gained a level in Obfuscation.]x2
[You can now lift slightly heavier twigs, wooo! Strength +1.]x1
[Maybe if you were nicer, people wouldn’t throw things at you. Agility +1.]x1
Nathan had moved on from studying general information about Kelric weeks ago. He obviously didn’t know everything that a native would, but he knew enough. More than enough really. Memorising the whole of both the mortal and seeker codices had probably been overkill.
It had been surprisingly fun though, some of the laws were utterly bonkers. One of the stranger ones specifically prohibited the storage of heavy, elder grade artillery in a bakery.
The wackier laws had actually inspired his current line of research. He had asked Lucas to bring him books on weird and interesting events from history. After all, Earth history already had plenty of crazy stories. A world that needed legislation to prohibit the “reckless transformation of supporting structures into cheese” would surely have vast supply of fantastic nonsense. And, though Lucas complained about the vague nature of Nathan’s request, he more than delivered.
“Listen to this,” Nathan said, partly in hopes of distracting Lucas into making a mistake. The scones were really good. “In Summer of 241, 23, 2, Stumar, the Faen Ledal of Confectionary, filled the entire Royal Palace of Camalot with toffee as part of a deal with a disgruntled minor noble.
“The substance was so addictive that anyone who had eaten so much as the tiniest speck had to be chained up and treated by ritualists. In the four weeks that it took to clear the mass of sugar, fifteen tonnes of flies were attracted and killed by the cursed sweets.”
Lucas chuckled a little as he took a few more of Nathan’s pieces. “I still think Thrasher Street is better. That’s still there.”
Thrasher Street was a road in Evrash, one of the federal cities. A few hundred years ago, a seven-year-old boy had made a deal with a fae that resulted in it being levitated twenty metres off the ground. The city had built supports under it so that, even after the magic failed, the street remained in the air.
“It doesn’t quite have the same madness though,” Nathan said, swapping to a book called The Mysteries of Kathresh.
“What about the decade of layth? That was fairly mad.”
Nathan laughed, “You’re right about that. It has to be in the top ten at least.”
In the middle of the first age, an ambitious carpenter created a collection of hundred board layth sets, in an attempt to get a grand achievement. When it didn’t work, she invited every seeker in the world to the greatest layth tournament Kelric had ever seen.
To her amazement, hundreds of adepts, elders and even a few ancients turned up. The following series of games lasted for just shy of ten years, hence the decade of layth.
In the present, the game continued on, with Nathan steadily losing ground. An hour or so later Lucas had the last of Nathan’s pieces surrounded on the centre board.
“That’s strange.” Nathan frowned at the page before getting up to dig through the pile of books he’d already read.
“Oi. It’s your turn,” Lucas said, “wander off after I’ve won.”
“Just… hang on, look at this.” Nathan held out the book he had been reading. “Do you see that writing on the back wall?”
“Sure.” There was a picture of a luxurious office in the book, centred on a desk. On the wall behind it was writing in an unknown language. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s your turn.”
“That is the office of the High Elder in the High Council Building. The picture was taken on the day that the last High Elder died, literally hours afterwards.”
“Lovely, and why does a three-thousand-year-old picture mean you don't have to take your turn?”
One of Kathresh’s many quirks was its lack of a High Elder. The high council of each federal city elected a High Elder who held slightly more authority than the other elders. They would cast a deciding vote when there was a tie, had the power to move policies up the agenda and were entrusted with their city’s illisarium key.
The keys were a set of six crowns symbolising the office of High Elder. Possession of a key made the holder High Elder of their city, though it had to be both legal and official.
Three thousand years earlier, just before the death of High Elder Polsen, the Crown of Kathresh and most of House Polsen’s liquid assets went missing. Without their illisarium key, the high council couldn’t elect a new High Elder unless they changed the joint constitution of the federal cities.
So, for three millennia Kathresh had been without a leader. For the most part, things worked out fine. An informal system among the elders based on seniority and level, prevented deadlock, and flexibility in structure of the agenda allowed important policies to be fast tracked.
The only problem was the illisarium, a lesser realm used by the federal cities as a repository for dangerous artifacts and techniques.
Rather than destroy dangerous knowledge, the founders decided to store it in a place where only the most trusted and responsible people could access it. On the rare occasion that Kathresh needed to place something within the illisarium, the object had to be transported to Relash by one of the city’s elders.
Over time, the idea of a High Elder simply faded to the backs of people’s minds. The location of the crown, as well as the lost wealth of the Polsens, became a random snippet from history. Briefly acknowledged as interesting, and then dismissed.
“There it is,” Nathan said, finally finding the book he was looking for. He opened Absurd Archaic Law and placed it down next to The Mysteries of Kathresh. On the page he’d opened there was a picture nearly identical to the first. It had the same desk, the same chair, the same windows and the same central piece of wall. But what it didn’t have was the writing.
“This picture,” Nathan pointed to the one without writing, “was taken a month before High Elder Polsen died. Yet despite the writing appearing almost in sync with the disappearance of the Crown of Kathresh, it isn’t mentioned anywhere. Not even in a book of mysteries.”
“What does it say?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t know. It isn’t a modern language. It could be anything,” Nathan answered.
“If you don’t mind my asking, sir, what writing are you referring to?” Marius said, looking at the two books from his chair.
“You can’t see it?” Nathan asked, putting his finger beside the text.
“No, nothing,” the butler shook his head.
“But you and I can,” Nathan said, looking at Lucas.
“Seems like it,” the librarian replied.
Nathan looked between the two pictures for a few moments before turning back to Lucas with a grin on his face and a glint in his eye. “Fancy solving a three-thousand-year-old mystery?”
“Sure,” Lucas said with a shrug, “right after you finish your turn.”
Status
[Status]
Name: Nathan Emmanuel Fellwood
Age: 4
Species: Human (Void-walker)
Realm: Mortal
Level: 0
Strength: 7 (7/10)
Agility: 6 (6/10)
Vitality: 10 (10/10)
Tempus: 10 (10/10)
Scope: 10 (10/10)
Stat Points: 0 (0)
Achievement Points: 2
[Class/es]
Grade 4 Available
[Skills 11]
Aura Control 1st Lvl 9
Aura Perception 1st Lvl 10
Language 1st Lvl 10
Learning 1st Lvl 9
Mathematics 1st Lvl 10
Mana Control 1st Lvl 10
Memory Technique 1st Lvl 10
Multitasking 1st Lvl 10
Reading 1st Lvl 10
Verlesse Mastery 1st Lvl 9
Visualisation 1st Lvl 10
[Abilities 15]
Echoes of the Barren Cosmos 1st (Innate)
REDACTED 1st (REDACTED)
Enhanced Aethereoception 1st Lvl 10
Enhanced Memory 1st Lvl 10
Enhanced Time Perception 1st Lvl 10
Identification 1st Lvl 10
Insomnia 1st Lvl 10
Isolation Tolerance 1st Lvl 10
Lightning Resistance 1st Lvl 10
Obfuscation 1st Lvl 5
Pain Tolerance 1st Lvl 10
Starvation Tolerance 1st Lvl 1
Thirst Tolerance 1st Lvl 1
Toxicity Tolerance 1st Lvl 1
Trauma Tolerance 1st Lvl 10