The stretching blue sky looked out through windows in rolling fields of white. It was cold enough that his breath fogged the air, but not so cold that it would snow. At least, he didn’t think so.
Patches of old snow melted into crunchy pillows in the corners of the city. Children made detours to jump on them or kicked chunks of skidding ice onto the street. They chased them around and left trails of salt and pepper grit wherever they went.
In other places, people carried homemade salads or bags full of decorations around to get ready for tonight.
Ryan wasn’t sure why he was headed all this way. They could have met up tomorrow or the day after that. He didn’t have to barge in now when they were all busy. Hell, he was busy. And for what? So they could chat for a few awkward moments? So he could see a famous person? So Lisa could give him a present?
Oh, hell. Lisa would want to give him a present. It would seem like he had come all this way just for that like some spoiled child.
Ryan was so stupid. He would have ruffled through his hair to get it out, but he couldn’t. He had spent far too much time in front of the mirror this morning trying to make it look good. He’d even been to the barber’s recently, and wore nice clothes, and—
And he was probably working himself up over nothing. They would be happy to see him, right? And he would be happy to see them. So why shouldn’t he walk all this way just for that?
Besides, the others had insisted on getting him out of the house for a few hours; he was happy to oblige.
He wrung his hands to get rid of some of the nervous energy, pushed down his wish that he had worked out more this morning instead of wasting so much time on his hair, and took deep breaths.
Chilled air filled his lungs. He was all alone. The sky stretched on forever as he lost himself in the sounds and distance. He was allowed to be happy on his birthday, even if his parents had never wanted him. It wasn’t about him. Everyone else had cause to celebrate, too.
So he ducked down the familiar street and slipped past the gate. The front lawn was missing its green, but that shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He guessed Mave wasn’t that kind of [Gardener].
They usually headed for the right door to knock, but he spotted movement in the courtyard and heard someone shout, so he ducked under the chilly shadow of the underpass to head there.
“Lisa?!” a man’s deep voice bellowed. “Have you seen my belt?! I could have sworn I put it in the shed … or the closet? … or my room … Mave better not have thrown it down the well.”
“I didn’t!” the man called from … somewhere.
Ryan looked around with a frown. He couldn’t place the source, which was odd because he’d trained to do just that for years. So it was a Skill? Could he speak over the entire property like [Secretaries] could?
“Lisa?!” Garen repeated himself.
“Nope!”
Ryan did the polite thing and kept an eye out for any belts, but he stood in the middle of an empty courtyard, which had apparently been cleared for the Winter, and there were no belts around.
There was something else, though. A sword leaned against the wall next to the shed’s open door. It had a narrow brown sheath polished to a shine and an ever-so-slight curve with no features.
The handle was black, but Ryan could hear the man turning the shed upside-down just a few steps away from it. He was looking for a belt. Why would he look for one inside a shed instead of the house? Unless—
Deep breaths, he told himself. There were stories of objects and people being dressed plainly to avoid attention.
“Oh, hey. Ryan, right?” Garen asked, suddenly next to him. Or rather, Ryan was suddenly next to the sword.
He wondered how stupid it would be to try to draw it. Probably very, considering its curse. Considering himself. It would be the last thing he ever tried to do.
“Uh, hi,” he said back, “sir.”
He still felt anxious standing next to the freaking [Dragonslayer], but the loose shirt, old jogging pants, and slippers he wore somewhat subdued the effect. He guessed that was retirement … or not. He was going climbing again, soon, wasn’t he? Was he getting ready for tonight?
“What are you doing here? Did you just walk on in?”
“Yes!” Mave called. “Without even using the knocker, or asking, or knocking on the door, or—”
“If it bothers you so much, why didn’t you stop him?” Garen asked the air.
No response.
I was invited, Ryan reminded himself. “I, uh—” he started and wanted to say literally anything else, but he just couldn’t drag his mind away from it. It was right there in arm’s range. He cleared his throat to not embarrass himself again and pointed, “Is that your sword, sir?”
Garen blinked and broke into a broad grin. “Yep. That’s him.” He plucked it up and drew the blade an inch. It was red. Completely red, the same one tone. The handle had to be fake then.
“Tooth of Seven.”
Ryan made a decidedly unmanly sound.
“Ryan!” Lisa called. “There you are.” She rushed out of the house behind them and he was about to say something when she hugged him. He froze up, no idea what to do. When was the last time he had hugged someone other than his parents? It was over before he could react. Or enjoy.
She smiled. “Happy birthday.”
“Uh, thank you.” He had heard that one phrase half a dozen times today and it still filled his chest with a mix of emotions. Some of them were warm and fuzzy. “Happy—”
Garen slapped a heavy hand down on his shoulder and asked, “It’s your birthday, kid?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He suppressed the urge to add a ‘sir’. Lisa didn’t do it. Neither did Micah. He figured he would go with the flow, as usual.
“Well, congratulations then.” He held the sword out to him and asked, “Want to give it a try?”
“Uh, what?” That had to be a joke, right? Yeah, no, he was grinning like a mischievous child so Ryan calmed down and tried to joke along. He wanted to try new things. “Thanks, but I kind of just got this shirt? I wouldn’t to—” He gestured stabbing himself and hung his head with a croak. “You know?”
They chuckled.
“It’s fine,” Garen said and removed his hand. “That would only happen if I wanted it to.”
“Which you don’t?” he asked, just to clarify.
“Yeah. And besides, I bet it would help you level. Trying out a new sword, a relic at that, giving it a few swings— You’re a [Fighter], right?”
Ryan nodded to buy himself a moment. He needed it to work through his confusion. Was he actually offering this? Because if so— And— But— Wait, had he said it would help him level?
Right, new equipment could do that and this was a relic. Ryan wouldn’t mind getting [Fighter] up to ten. Even if he was a [Mage] or aiming for [Ranger], and [Scout] would be the better option to level for that, Classes only really got good from the double digits upward. He wondered what he would get from ten.
“Uh—” he started again and mentally kicked himself.
Garen smiled and held the sword out with both hands. “Go on, you have my permission.”
He glanced to the side and noticed Lisa was busy tying her shoelace with one knee up. She wasn’t even wearing a jacket, just a blouse or … dress? It had intentional wrinkles in the fabric and reached halfway to her knees over pants.
“Go on,” she said.
Ryan couldn’t say no, then. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Not to hold a relic—he was pretty sure he owned a relic—but to hold this one in particular. They were all one of a kind.
He took the sheath … and didn’t die. That gave him a sigh of relief. The blade was surprisingly heavy for something of its size. Heavier than his old sword had been. How had it looked so easy for Garen? It also felt strangely warm. Was that part of its enchantment?
Ryan made sure he held it properly before he drew the blade. It was entirely one tone of red that reminded him of artistic blood. The thought of it rather than the reality. Except for the handle, but he had always heard that it was supposed to be the same color; part of the weapon.
“The handle?” he asked.
“It’s there,” Garen answered him. “Just covered in a wrap and some of it is painted or dyed.”
“Dyed?”
“It’ll come off, one way or another. The blade will outlast the color.”
“Oh.” He looked down the edge. “Wow. I, uh, heard you have to sharpen it. Wouldn’t that mean it eventually wears down?”
All magic items eventually stopped working, all things came to an end, but it seemed like such a shame for something like this.
“Most of what I do is honing,” Garen said. “But it’s alright. The blade heals.”
He looked up. “Oh, it repairs itself?”
“Sure. That.”
Ryan smiled in relief. He turned so he could hold it out more. It didn’t really look like much on its own. A red, one-sided sword; the effect somewhat subdued by the mismatched handle. But he knew the history behind it and— He was holding part of what had once been a dragon.
He tried to imagine the rest of the beast beyond it and it boggled his mind more than the infinite sky.
“What’s the big deal anyway?” Lisa asked, laughing. “You’re holding that like it’s holy or delicate when you probably couldn’t even damage it if you wanted to.”
That was a sobering thought.
“And it’s not like it would do much for you.”
Ryan looked at her in surprise. “It won’t? Does it not use mana or— How does it work?”
He knew it made its user more powerful and could manipulate anger to an incredible degree, to the point where just picking it up without the owner’s permission might make one commit suicide. That was what he knew, but descriptions were always abbreviated and stories differed on the details. They liked to embellish.
“I’ve bonded it,” Garen said. “There are other ways to manipulate or draw on its strength, but—” He frowned and glanced at his ward. “Shouldn’t he be able to create a temporary … ‘thingy’ with mana like the others do?” He raised a finger and drew a line in the air.
Lisa shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
Ryan jumped on the idea, except— He felt his way around and couldn’t find any entry points like other magic items had. They were usually where it was most intuitive to find. Mana ran best along extensions of bones. It was why some [Mages] pointed to cast spells.
He looked to Lisa for help. “How do I …?”
She lowered her leg. “Oh, you really want to?”
He nodded. “I mean, temporarily? Can’t I?”
Had been a joke after all?
“Here,” she said and took the blade. Ryan almost had a heart attack until he noticed she was just using her thumb and index finger to hold the dull side steady. “Collect some mana for me.” She looked up and down, inspecting it just as he had, and adjusted her grip a few times.
Ryan frowned. Why? What would she— Oh. Right. She had [Lesser Mana Mastery], didn’t she? She could control even other people’s mana. He wondered if she had lost her [Lesser Magic Resistance] to it, but did as she said.
“Don’t do anything with it,” she added. “Just hold as much as you can over your hand or something.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of you tinkering with that,” Garen said, sounding unusually serious for once.
Ryan would be, too, if he saw someone messing with his items. He trusted Lisa, but if he didn’t know what she was doing—
“It’s fine. I’m just delving into the enamel,” she said.
“Still—”
“I got it.” It wasn’t a response to his warning, but her task. She glanced at him and said, “Hold my hand,” but took it before he could. She was warm compared to the cold weather.
Ryan pushed down [Hot Skin] as he felt her whisk his mana away. Suddenly, he felt a flash of another line stretching up the blade; a cluster of hair-thin roots poking into the blunt edge. Others ran along the side as if slipping beneath scales. Lisa took the two and linked them. The line stretched all the way back into his hand, something flowed with it, and Ryan heard—
[Skill — Lesser Might obtained!]
[Skill — Sword Proficiency: VII obtained!]
“Wow.”
Lisa stepped back with a smile. “You have to keep up the connection over time, though.”
“Wow,” he repeated and moved his arm. The blade felt much lighter now and much more familiar.
Two good Skills, just like that. Easily four or five levels worth from a simple temporary bond to a magic weapon he wasn’t even using right. This was the type of equipment people longed for. If everyone had swords like these— He thought of Connor and shoved the thought aside.
“What did you get?” Garen asked with a frown.
“Oh, uh, [Lesser Might] and a sword proficiency Skill, sir.”
“Found it!” Mave called, this time with his actual voice. He stepped onto the walkway above with a strap of something held triumphantly in one hand. He wore his usual work clothes, that shirt that hugged him, but had a coat thrown over.
“Ah! Where was it?” Garen asked, tearing their attention away. Ryan shook his head and looked down. He was holding the freaking Tooth of Seven. He should be focussing on that.
“The bathroom,” he said and came to a stop. “You must have left it there after you got back from scouting out Urodrel and headed straight for the sh—”
“Yeah, yeah. Urodrel?” Garen interrupted him.
“Its name, apparently. People have been finding murals and scrolls and other things mentioning it.”
“Huh. Well, gimme’.” He made grabbing motions up at the air. Mave dropped it and walked off toward the back left building. Ryan had never been in there. He had seen maybe a fifth of this property.
The man caught it and looked like he wanted to put the belt on, noticed his jogging pants, and took a step back. “I’ll finish getting ready,” he said with a thumb jerked over his shoulder. To Ryan, he added, “You can give that a few swings, if you like. Happy New Year, kid.”
“Uh, thank you, sir. You, too,” Ryan replied and was left standing with the priceless sword in hand.
He turned to Lisa to share in the excitement and she offered, “We have training blocks in the shed if you like?”
“Yes, please.”
It was only a short hop, skip, and jump for them to be standing outside in the cold in front of a wooden rod, then. Ryan went to strike and Lisa interrupted him, almost chuckling to herself, “No. No, you’re doing that wrong.”
“What?”
“You can’t treat it the same as the sword you’re used to. There’s a form and poise you have to use. Here—”
As he had for Micah and others in school, she adjusted his stance and grip. When she finished, Ryan felt awkward. This seemed a bit too dramatic for him, in the sense that he felt like an actor in a play. The stance was wide and stiff. He was used to carrying a shield, being light on his feet, and recently using a spear. This didn’t seem like it would be practical at all, not without knowing more at least.
But she told him he had it right so he slowly went through the motions to practice his strike. He felt an ease there he hadn’t a moment ago, his [Sword Proficiency: VII] kicking in once it was able to grasp something familiar. It wasn’t what he had imagined a proficiency Skill to be like. Everyone had described it like the motion suddenly became muscle memory. Instead, he felt like the sword was familiar. The tilt of the blade, the way he held it, the angle and force of his strike.
He cut most of the way through the target block on his first try. The last thin slats split and bulged outward when his momentum came to a sudden halt. He needed a moment to get the sword back out, despite having [Lesser Might] and one person here to help him, but … how much stronger did those Skills actually make him in the first place?
“Almost perfect,” Lisa said. “And on your first try. Those Skills must be helping a lot because your first stance was horrible.”
Stolen story; please report.
He chuckled along with her.
Maybe there was a way he could measure it? Except, even if he lifted weights or exercised, how much he could do depended largely on his mood or what he had done beforehand. Was there a way to measure something like this? Strength? How did his own Skill compare to an intermediate one? How much of his capabilities depended on it and others instead of himself?
“You can stay here and practice more if you want?” Lisa offered. “We have more blocks, or you could walk through some forms. I just have to … go get something really quick?”
She pointed a thumb over her shoulder and took a step back, just like Garen had earlier.
“A jacket?” Ryan joked.
“Sure. That, too.”
He could already guess what she was wanted to get. He didn’t want to ruin another training block, though. He wondered why they even had them when Garen was great at fighting and had retired, and Mave and Lisa fought with a staff. Even Allison preferred a bow.
He had never seen anyone else training here, except—
Oh.
They were for Anne.
Ryan peeked inside the shed and noticed the training dummies, equipment, and other supplies in there.
He made a fist and relaxed, then did again—testing his own strength. He gripped the handle with both hands and tried to find his way back into that stance Lisa had shown him without feeling stupid. Phantom motions helped him get the hang of the proficiency Skill. Then he tried to cut through a lower section of the block. He made it halfway before the rod toppled.
Ryan lunged to catch it before it hit the ground, easily holding both it and the sword in each hand. The top portion he’d cut earlier tipped over and hung off two threads to the side.
He set it back, lifted it up, and wondered how much the block weighed.
[Lesser Might]. The Skill everyone wanted, because it gave people the opportunity to fight back. Anything that could be solved through sheer force or force of will, it improved. Vibrancy, strength, resolve, magic resistance, toughness; hell, even poison and disease resistance to a degree, since the mind was a part of the battle. It weaponized other Skills in a similar way.
Offense, was the gist of it.
Ryan shoved some more mana into the bond to maintain it and wondered why he did that. He would have to give it up eventually. He wasn’t even practicing and wasn’t that interested, even if it was a relic. He preferred other weapons. The novelty of it had worn off. Instead, he set the training block back down and wondered.
Did Anne always feel this way? She had the Skill, right? Lisa had once told him she could punch her way up the old fourth floor. That seemed somehow unfair to him and he tried to tell himself it wasn’t jealousy.
It was just—
Ryan did put effort into things. He’d only had [Lesser Strength] for the longest time and didn’t even know how much [Strength in Numbers] did for him. He struggled to keep his friends, his team safe. Anne didn’t look all that muscular, but she was apparently better than him.
So it wasn’t jealousy, but maybe envy? If he had the Skill, would things be easier for him? Did he want them to be easier? He wouldn’t have to work out as much, but … what would he do with himself if he had that much more time on his hands? Meditate even more to avoid his own thoughts?
He didn’t have any interests or hobbies aside from playing alleyball and reading stories of people he wished he could be like.
He looked around at the empty courtyard, the blue sky, old snow, and training block, the priceless sword he held limply toward the ground and wondered.
What did he want?
A short bird tune found its way from his lips and turned into a rueful chuckle. When Lisa came back with a jacket on, he put a smile on for her.
He would probably just end up working out even more if he got a better Skill because he could push himself even farther, then. The Tower wouldn’t let him settle. He couldn’t make a living from fire crystals on the lower floors. One way or another, he would have to climb.
He sheathed the sword just as she stepped up and held a bundle of fine cloth out to him.
“Happy birthday,” she said, “for you.”
Ryan lifted it away to reveal a chunk of … iron? It looked like crude iron or a type of rock in the traditional arrowhead shape. But of course, being from the Tower the design looked a little more intentional. He noticed a subtle blue sheen in its grooves and veins whenever it caught the light.
The base stretched back into a circle that gave it all away. “Is that a spear tip?” he asked.
“A magic spear tip,” Lisa told him, “as in: it cuts through magic.”
His eyes shot up. “It’s magic resistant?”
“Yep. Only a little. I can already do that on my own so I figured I wouldn’t need it. And I know it isn’t as sharp, but … maybe you could commission a javelin from it? To broaden your repertoire.”
Wow. Ryan did like the sound of that, but— “It’s too much, Lisa,” he told her. “That’s way too much for a simple birthday present.”
The spear tip itself didn’t look that high-quality. Its edge was almost dull, if he was honest. But if it could cut through magic, it would be all the more valuable in the Tower where all their obstacles were magic.
It was loot, actual loot, which meant it was worth far too much for a birthday present.
Lisa rolled her eyes. “As I said, ‘only a little’. We found it on the new fourth floor and I bet they’re going to be more common soon. I’ve seen a few of them around the, uh— the Bazaar already.”
Ryan frowned. “Still—”
“My birthday is in March,” she told him. “If you really think it’s too much, repay me then and we can whittle our way down to normal gifts.”
He hesitated, then relaxed. “That sounds like a deal.” Because he really would love a spear that could cut through magic. It sounded awesome.
She went to hand it to him and he hugged her instead. It was something else he wanted. Still, it was stiff and awkward. Ryan stepped back before she thought it was weird.
But really, he would have hugged for a few more minutes if it had been alright. Damnit, he really should have worked out more or meditated this morning.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re, uh, welcome. I didn’t take you for the hugging type.”
“Neither did I you,” he accused her.
“New Year’s resolution,” she said.
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re actually doing that?”
Lisa lost her smile. “Doesn’t everyone?” She immediately lost her frown as well and looked exhausted. Her voice fell flat. “Please, tell me Garen didn’t put me up to something stupid again.”
“Uh ... I mean, uh, lots of people do them, I guess?” Ryan tried and tried not to rub his neck. It would be a dead giveaway. “But most don’t follow through, I think … Actually, now that you mention it, I could go for some New Year’s resolutions as well.”
That seemed to reassure her. “Yeah, like what?”
He shrugged. “Just … stuff.”
She smiled and shoved the bundle at him. “Alright. I do have to get ready for the party soon, but I want to see you try that out first. It’s much cooler than that stupid sword.”
Ryan chuckled. “What do I do? Show me.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Make a large flame.”
He shook his off-hand and did that. If he had any doubt about how much stronger [Lesser Might] made him physically, there was none for how much stronger it made magically. He used [Create Fire] just as he always did and the flames shot up higher. Ryan only needed to add a little more beyond that then to make it large enough.
Lisa used the spear tip to cut through. Instead of just swishing through like a normal flame, the top half was sliced off. The bottom half crumbled over his hand and fell away like water. Had she cut through the structure of the spell?
“Wow,” he said again. “Can I try?”
She handed him the spear tip and he noticed her summon a flame, but Ryan had already set the blade against the sheath of the sword instead. He lifted it a hair’s breadth away and ran it down.
The connection frayed. The fine roots Lisa had made survived it more than his own had. Ryan ran it down again and on the third time—
[Skill — Lesser Might lost!]
[Skill — Sword Proficiency: VII lost!]
He sighed. The sword felt heavier in his hand. It was just him, [Lesser Strength], and Lisa now.
They stood around, neither of them really knowing what to say. Ryan didn’t know what to do with the sword so Lisa took it off his hands. She joked that she would give it back to Garen … or not and hide it somewhere until the last minute. Or glue the sheath shut so Garen would embarrass himself tonight if he tried to show it off to others.
Ryan chuckled at the idea.
He didn’t really know why they were hesitating. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t see each other again. It was just one day. He guessed he would have just rather spent a little more of it with her. And besides, he could already guess what was awaiting him back home and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it yet.
But eventually, they had to leave. She had to get ready for the party and Ryan had to go back to whatever surprise those three idiots had concocted. So they said their goodbyes and parted ways.
Ryan tried creating some spellscripts and cutting through them with the spear on the way back, both to see how good it was and what he had to do to make his spells last longer. It took him a few minutes to realize he was already training again and put it away. He would do that eventually, but not today.
Once he got to Westhill, a familiar scent drifted down on the breeze. Of course, they had posted a look-out. Ryan didn’t know if Micah thought he was sneaky or if he just didn’t care, but he scampered off the moment he saw Ryan and suddenly, there were three of them.
“Ho, Ryan!” Finn called, walking down ahead of the others with a wave. “What brings you this way?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response, but did accept the arm shake and pat on the back the other guy offered him. It was pretty close to a hug, he guessed. Finn leaned back with a grin. “Are you trying to pay me a compliment or is that a horrible disfigurement in your pocket?”
He chuckled. “Both.” He showed them the spear tip and after a short explanation and demonstration, Micah took it off his hands to marvel at, probably seeing all sorts of things with those eyes of his.
“So she just bought you that for your birthday?” Lang asked, with worry rather than a leer.
“No, she found it during the exam. We said we’re going to whittle our way down to normal gifts,” Ryan told him.
He relaxed, rubbed his hands for warmth, and gave him the side-eye. “Which you still haven’t told us much about? The exam, I mean.”
He shrugged. “What is there to tell? We wandered around in forty to sixty degrees heat through an abandoned mine shaft for nearly three days and fought some monsters here and there—”
Micah opened his mouth to say something and Ryan pushed on with a grin. There were a few things.
“—swam through a dark underground river, fought an entire Kobold camp, multiple alligators that can breathe fire, a blue one next to a river of magma, rode on minecarts that use crystals to run, crashed them into some monsters, and fought a giant slime that could boil us alive if we got too close.”
By the time he finished, Micah was grinning. “And we mined a floor with a pickaxe to find a summoning crystal for that slime,” he added, “found a bunch of treasure, and leveled up.”
“Nothing to tell,” Lang said.
“I have so many follow-up questions,” Finn added.
“Later,” Ryan said. He didn’t really like to talk about the Tower. For one, because they were in Westhill and he got weird looks from people. Lang’s family, especially. His aunt had even thrown him out once when she had caught him telling stories.
The other reason was that he didn’t want it to seem like he was bragging. What he got up to weren’t proper adventures, or cool, and … he had just as many bad experiences as he had good ones.
On the other hand, some of them were great. And Ryan didn’t really want those old rules to apply to them for the rest of their lives. He could tell Lang anything. He wanted to be able to tell him about his career, too. He just had to get used to that idea.
“What about your teammates?” Finn asked, aiming for the entire hand instead of the finger. “What were they like?”
“Fine, I guess?” Ryan rubbed his shoulder warily. On the other hand, he doubted he would ever get used to things like that; what they wanted to talk about.
“We were six,” Micah happily supplied and jumped into a description of their teammates.
The other two were immediately much less interested since it was him doing the explaining. Finn cut in before he could go into too much depth, “Level, levels. Tell us about those.”
“I got [Controlled Breathing]?”
“Really?” Lang asked, suddenly interested. “From [Fighter]?”
“No, [Alchemist].”
“[Alchemist]?”
“Yep. It’s rare. I checked in the Registry. But it’s useful, right? Didn’t you say you had it, too?”
“Yeah. It was one of the first Skills I got. Pretty low level for [Athlete]. Do you have any proper gym teachers or instructors at that school of yours or are they all just retired climbers?” he asked it with a smile.
“Both,” Ryan said.
“There’s Ms. Jo?” Micah offered.
“They’re both proper instructors and retired climbers.”
“Well, you can ask Ms. Jo then,” Lang said, “to show you some breathing exercises. ‘Cause you know, if you ever get side stitches now it’s your own fault.”
Micah stared at him blankly. “I … got … side stitches … just from jogging this morning?” He glanced from side to side.
Finn winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“Tell us more about your school, then."
“Tell me why we’re walking at a snail’s pace,” Ryan countered. He knew where they were going with this and was aiming for avoidance.
There was a flash of panic on Micah’s face and he tried to switch topics. “No, fair’s fair. First, you have to tell us about your levels,” he told the other two.
They seemed happy for the distraction and reluctant to go along with it, because there had to be a reason why they were walking so slow.
“What’s there to say?” Lang copied him. “I got a level up but no Skills. Oh wait, no, I did get my Path.”
Ryan nearly tackled him to the ground. “You what?”
“Yep. But it's lame. [Athletics Path]. My aunt is so going to kill me.” He chuckled to himself with a look of self-deprecation.
“You haven’t told her yet?” Finn asked.
“Nope.”
He knew he was probably trying to cheer him up, but Micah sounded oblivious as he asked, “Oh, but what did you get as your first Skill? It’s supposed to be something strong, right?”
Lang sighed and it sounded annoyed and defensive. “I guess? I got a Stat from my Path. Does that count as ‘strong’ to you?”
Ryan bumped into him. “What is it?”
He glanced over and let it drop. “[Lesser Coordination].”
“You, too?” Micah asked, sounding frustrated. “Man, I wish I would have gotten that.”
Finn looked over his head at the two of them as if to ask, Is he being serious?
Ryan gave him a look that pleaded, Let it go? “[Lesser Coordination] is awesome, though. Especially since you already have agility. Congrats, man. It seems perfect for you.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“And you, Finn?” Micah asked, because he was just determined to push all the wrong buttons here.
Surprisingly, the guy didn’t give him some thinly veiled insult. He scratched his neck and offered, “I got my Class?”
"What?" Ryan asked, feeling lost.
“Ooh, what is it?”
“[Helper]. And [Worker], but mostly … that.”
“What the hell?" Ryan asked. First Lang got his Path without him knowing about it and now Finn had two Classes out of nowhere? He stared at his friend and the guy must have seen the hurt on his face because he dropped his arm with a sigh.
“Yeah, I got the second one a while back. I guess that’s what happens if you work a dozen different part-time jobs for half a year. But I got the second one from helping out at this volunteer event in Westgate when the Tower went to shit and uh … it was really cool to actually do something useful … I guess.”
Micah held back a chuckle. “Finn, the [Helper].”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He caught him in a headlock and gave him a noogie.
“Ah, no!” Micah called as he tried to escape. “My hair! I spent half an hour on that—”
Ryan smiled. “So you’re …?”
He let go. Micah tried to recover the damages. “[Worker] one and [Helper] two," Finn said. "And before you ask, you little rat, I only got a handful of Skills so far. Organization, cleaning, endurance.”
“What do you want to do with it?” Lang asked him.
“Ooh, do you want to be like, a social worker or something?”
“Yeah. That. Or a [Nurse] or … something. Maybe even [Firefighter]. I’m not sure yet. I don’t have my Path, but I want to sign up for school next year anyway. Maybe I will find it until then.”
That was ... awesome.
“Well, you did say you wanted to catch up,” Ryan said. “Make sure you help a whole bunch of people then and get a higher level than us.”
Finn looked at him and something in his face suddenly made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll do that. So tell me about your school.”
No, Ryan thought. Not me. And here he’d thought he had avoided the topic. He glanced ahead and realized they were still walking so slow.
“Yeah,” Lang added, ganging up on him. “What’s it like? You don’t talk much. How are your grades, the teachers, the courses. And your classmates? Have you, uh, met anyone new?”
Ryan didn’t answer for a moment. Thankfully, Micah took that as his cue to jump in with an answer.
“Oh, we’ve met tons of new people,” he said. “There’s Myra, and Cathy, and Stephanie, and Saga, and Anne, and Sion, and Alex, and Navid, and Eliot. He’s a— Oh, uh, nevermind. But there’s also all the people from the workshop, like Mason, and Delilah, and Andrew, and roommates like Lanh, and Fabi, and Vladi—”
Ryan silently raised an eyebrow and wondered if he should laugh. Was he actually going to list every single new person he had met?
“—and Ryan’s roommates, but you already heard about most of those. Then there are people like—”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Micah,” Finn said, sounding like he was about to get a headache.
Micah took it in good fun, but Ryan was wary. Earlier and now, he got the feeling they didn’t like him as much, Lang and Finn, ever since. Like they were still harboring resentment. It was stupid. It wasn’t like it was Micah fault after all.
“I’m just saying, we made a bunch of new friends.”
“Ryan? Friends?” Lang asked.
“Yep.”
“That’s … actually great to hear.” He turned on Ryan. “You should introduce us to some of them them sometime. But I didn’t ask if you made any new friends. I asked if you met anyone new.”
Ryan’s heart hammered in his chest. Seriously, Lang? he wanted to ask. He tried to convey it with a look instead. The guy just smiled at him with that smug look on his face. Finn looked expectant right next to him. Micah is right there.
Finn threw an arm around his shoulders and smiled. “C’mon, man. It’s just a question.”
Yeah, but how was Ryan supposed to answer it? He took a deep breath and tried to find his voice. “Uh, there was—” One person, he wanted to say, but couldn’t. “One,” he just mumbled instead and hoped they could catch on. Finn nodded and his smiled wider. Ryan shook his head. “But yeah, no. Just like Micah said, we only made a bunch of friends.”
He gave them a forced smile and hoped they would leave it at that.
Micah looked like he was happy for him, that he had admitted that he had friends. The other two looked disappointed.
“Oh,” Finn said and gave his shoulder a pitying squeeze before he let go.
Lang put on a forced smile and hopped a few steps ahead of them to walk backward as he spoke, “Yeah, but it’s only been half a year, right? Oh, and here. Look.” He dragged a strap laden with easily a dozen different keys and even more accessories from his pocket.
It jangled loudly and Ryan caught a glimpse of something pink among all the clutter.
“My keychain. I need it for school since we have so many things to unlock. There’s my room key, and my closet key, and my desk key, my mail key, my locker key”—he brought them up and showed them off one by one as he spoke—”my house key, the key for the shed and gate in Westhill, the key for the youth center, though that’s loaned, my desk key for at home, the ones for my locks, and the one for the gym for the weekends.” He gave Ryan a look. “My gym teacher gave me that in case I want to practice on the weekends. She says I’m trustworthy.”
He put extra emphasis on the word.
“Ah,” Ryan said.
“So you own a bunch of keys,” Finn said. “Cool story, bro.”
All the while he had been showing them off, the other accessories dangled around below and Micah pointed with a chuckle. “Lang, what’s that one?”
Lang glanced down and put on a knowing smile. “I was getting there.” He pulled the lanyard up until he held it in his hands. “I still have it.”
Finn laughed out loud at the sight and held his stomach.
“Did your sister— uh, cousin buy that for your or something?” Micah asked with a smile.
It was a pink wristband with a metal heart dangling from it. A few more had been added with some kind of red marker in a messy scrawl, though he doubted Lang had done that. Sol wouldn’t have either. Another girl?
“No,” Lang answered and shook his head. “I bought it myself ages ago. During the summer break?”
“Because you lost a bet?” Micah guessed.
“No, no bet.”
Finn was still laughing and Ryan wanted him to stop. It really wasn’t that funny. Or funny at all.
Micah glanced at the guy and frowned, beginning to look worried that he was out of the loop. “I don’t get it. What’s the joke?”
A brief flash of anger crossed Lang’s face, but he shook it off and put back his smile back on. “No. There’s no joke, Micah.” He turned back to Ryan. “The point is, I always have this in my pocket. I’m constantly pulling it out or walking around with it to unlock stuff, or lock stuff, and just to fiddle around with it.” He raised it up and motioned turning a lock a few times for different things. “And if I ever lose anything on it. Anything. I’ll have to get a replacement for it, you know?”
He stared at Ryan.
After a moment, he gulped and nodded. His voice almost cracked. “I know.” Ryan kind of wished he could hug the guy after all.
The moment stretched on. Finally, Micah asked, “Are you drunk?”
This time, Lang laughed out loud and Ryan broke into a smile. He had to suppress a chuckle.
“Yeah. Maybe,” his friend joked.
They were at the door to the youth center, then, and the three of them had done too good a job of distracting him. When Finn opened up the door with a grin, Ryan hadn’t heard a thing. He hadn’t thought of where they were headed. The two dozen people waiting inside jumped up and called as one, “Happy birthday!”
His smile of surprise this year was real.