> “Soul and Blood magics are some of the least understood aspects, despite the frequent head-scratching of Time. In essence, they all share a single element; they are a core component of our reality, but nigh impossible to quantify. Sure, anybody can look at the sky and tell you what time of day it is. You can ask someone how long a second is and they’ll count to one. Simple, right?
>
> Yeah, I thought so too. But when you look just a little deeper, so many questions arise. Why is a second the length that it is? Why minutes and hours? Because we invented those measures to track our days. But our entire perception of time relies on the cycles of our sun, our stars. How does a sun perceive time? A star? A Manifestation? If our entire means of measuring time is a relative measure, how can you TRULY measure it? Right? Even its implied vastness is beyond the comprehension of a mortal mind, much like Manifestations themselves.
>
> The Soul is a similar conundrum. We know it to be some crucial component of ourselves. It allows us to perceive the abstract, to feel emotion. We know that it is the Soul that persists when a body dies, allowing the cycle of Rebirth across an infinity of planes. But how do we measure it? Even forgetting how difficult it is to actually see a soul, even when anchored to an inanimate vessel, how do we quantify it? What is it made of? How do they grow? We know new souls are created when a new life is birthed, but how? Why?! The practice of Soul magic has been much more restricted since the First Soul Sorcerer showed us how to destroy a soul, and remove it from the cycle of rebirth. It is a shame that so many questions are seemingly unanswerable in the wake of the fear he left in us.
>
> Blood is even more frustrating. We know enough about it to say that it goes beyond simply blood. It is the body, the flesh, the tendons and sinews. It allows rapid healing and impressive bursts of strength. But it can also do so much more. The Witch Doctors have just barely touched on the potential of Blood. The Artificer of Hydra demonstrated that quite thoroughly when it invented the monster that now bears its name. I say ‘it,’ because, well… nobody knows what it used to be. Human? Elf? Ork? Male? Female? Something else entirely? All we know is that it used Blood magic to change itself, somehow. And then it used that same power to create the Hydra, an undead beast made of the grafted bodies of seven Abyss Serpents. The monster had a Water aspect powerful enough to shift oceans, and a Blood aspect that let it regrow entire heads, neck included, in seconds.
>
> What did the Artificer know that we don’t? What did the Soul Sorcerer know?
>
> They shook our entire understanding of what magic is capable of. They both wielded power enough to rival many Gods, and nearly brought our world to the point of Singularity on two separate occasions.
>
> They have likely understood only a small fraction of their magic, themselves. How completely might an immortal be able to master an aspect? No, that’s just a God. How completely does something like a Manifestation understand the Concepts they govern? What kind of power do they wield?
>
> The Manifestation of Void could wipe all the stars from the sky in a single lazy blink.
>
> It only doesn’t because the Manifestation of Life could undo it with the same lazy blink.
>
> Or maybe it already has wiped the stars from the sky, and maybe the Manifestation of Life has made new ones in their place. Maybe our lives are just too short and our souls too small to possibly comprehend it all. Maybe we are just a singular speck of dust swirling in a much greater, more terrifying maelstrom.
>
> Maybe I need to sleep.”
— Journal entry of an unknown Wizard.
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Cain awoke in a dark, dusty room with a stiff back. After a momentary panic, Self-Awareness woke as well, informing him that he was in the same dark, dusty room that he’d rented out… seven days prior, by now. Five days ago, he’d relented and decided it was time to get over himself and look for more work at the Adventurer’s Guild. It had been rather simple things. They’d hunted a few roaming monsters out on the plains — specifically, coyote-like monsters called Bauks that could open their jaws deceptively wide — and cleared a worg den since then. It turned out, worgs were like wolves with the general build and posture of a gorilla. Only, the gorilla was hideously disproportionate and had a nasty hunch. The things were as tall as Cain, and were so aggressive that he wouldn’t have been able to tell if they contracted rabies. Gratefully, after the ogre, none of the encounters had been particularly challenging for Cain. While the nightmare coyotes and the worgs were both intimidating, they just didn’t have the raw power the ogre had wielded. Nothing got close to him unless he allowed it to — which he had now and then, to help Magira practice.
He turned his head to the simple bed where Magira slept. It looked much less comfortable than the room at the Adventurer’s Guild had been, but she hadn’t once complained. Cain certainly missed the relative comfort of his old life, but found it… difficult… to miss much else.
In fact, it surprised him how much he enjoyed Magira’s company. While uneducated, it was clear she was intelligent. He’d been trying to describe dozens of different concepts from Earth to her using anecdotes that would still make sense in a more medieval setting. A lot of them didn’t land, but she learned the ones that did quickly. There was also plenty Cain could learn from her about the world of Erdau — something that made it much easier for him to form plans and not be constantly paranoid. Additionally, although he wanted to avoid viewing this world as a game of any sort, learning about magic was still exciting for him in a way that was hard to replicate outside of such games. He also noticed Magira had a more childlike side to her; her eager curiosity about the world around her, from food stalls to adventurers, was rivaled only by the excitement she’d felt learning how to use her magic.
I suppose it makes sense. If her mana was still pure, that means she had never cast a spell before in her life, right? She had spent at least an hour leaping from rock to rock, and even drew Cain into a game of tag. It had been a good reminder for him to relax every so often, and stop to have some fun. If all he ever did was make plans and work towards goals, he would wear himself out. Even though the presence of slavery… irked him in a way that made relaxing difficult.
He heard a quiet fwap as one of Magira’s ears twitched in her sleep.
There had also been the music… but Cain didn’t have the courage to bring that up in a conversation.
With a quiet grunt, Cain picked himself up off the floor. I should go see if breakfast is on yet. He pulsed a little mana into his clothes and cloak, letting the enchantments they contained remove the dust and grime they’d accumulated while he slept. He steadied himself against a wall, and then navigated towards where he could see a faint light creeping through the doorframe. Fumbling with the rusty iron latch for a moment, he pulled the rough wooden door open and stepped out into the hall. A few other doors along the corridor were already open, their occupants having risen some time earlier. Cain turned right towards the source of the light and walked a short ways before reaching the Fell Head’s frontal room, complete with a counter, tables, and wall-mounted candles that had been extinguished in favor of the early morning light streaming in through the windows. The hallway he came from was at the back-left of the room, relative to the entrance, and a short distance ahead of him was the counter where the cook worked. A large, cast-iron pot sat on the wooden surface.
“Morning,” Cain greeted the surly-looking teenager behind the counter. “Two bowls, please?”
“Sure, sure,” she said back, “just a moment.”
The cook removed two wooden bowls from a stack, and used a large ladle to scoop runny oats from the pot into each. She then tossed a wooden spoon into each, before handing them to Cain.
“Thank you.”
Her only reply was a grunt of acknowledgement as Cain walked back towards his room with a bowl in each hand. He counted the doors, and when he reached the fourth one on the left, he turned and entered. He set one bowl down on the spindly nightstand next to the bed, and another down on the floor near the corner where he had slept. Then he walked back to the door, latched it shut, and went back to the nightstand.
With the barest effort of will, the deformed candle sat upon the nightstand sparked to life, illuminating the dim room.
Cain sat next to his bowl with a sigh, and began to eat. The oats were utterly flavorless. There was also the fact that Cain disliked oats in general, finding their texture when cooked to be abhorrent, but it was mostly the utter lack of flavor that bugged him. Still, it was filling, and that was the most important part for right now. Don’t I have a skill… Flexible Metabolism? I wonder if I can use that to eat less. He distracted himself from the bland meal by thinking on his skills and attributes. Right now, his skills favored two approaches to combat; using fire to annihilate everything around him, and using shadow weaponry to poison enemies. He also had Serpent’s Tongue, which seemed focused on misdirection, and Self-Awareness, which gave him a large radius of awareness. The skill had been extremely unpleasant to learn, but its usefulness had already proven itself.
The sound of fabric rubbing against itself caught his ear, and Cain turned to see Magira sitting up from bed. The smell of food, however tasteless, had woken her. She looked at the nightstand — looked at Cain — and looked back at the bowl of oats he’d brought back for her. She sent him a mental ‘thank you’ and began to eat.
Cain went back to his own bowl, once again half-focusing on his developing build to distract from the food. I have a good start to either a ‘stealth archer’ build — a timeless classic — or a full-on scorched-earth sorcerer. There was even a possibility he could focus on physical prowess, and turn into some flavor of fighter build. The only thing he wouldn’t be able to do well was a support role like Magira, which wouldn’t work as easily with the aspects he’d chosen. The question was, what would be most effective? There was no way for him to know what the current ‘meta’ was, for lack of a better term. What will give me the best growth potential? There weren’t traditional ‘levels’ in this world like a video game might have, nor were there ability points of any sort to be allocated. Growth was both achieved and directed through action and will. I think one of the tidbits I unlocked said something about ‘giving the mana within myself direction.’ That implies that skills and attributes are just a more permanent form of magic. It was such an interesting proposition that Cain forgot he was supposed to be eating the remaining half of his oats. Theoretically, he could choose his skills by attempting to impress his will on his mana the same as if he were casting a spell. It was just that his choices were hidden from him, unlike those in a game. But that wasn’t all there was to it, right?
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
A few moments of willing Tempered Fury to gain a rank yielded nothing. There is more to it. The answer would likely be found in how he’d gained all of his other skills. He knew that Tempered Fury came into being as a result of his emotional state, making that a potential factor. Adrenaline High was similar, but not quite the same — it was the effect of a stress response, not necessarily emotion itself. Self-Awareness was also similar, but again distinctly different. It was the result of a lesser existential crisis, with possible but unconfirmed ties to his emotional state.
“Are you going to finish that?” Asked Magira.
Cain wordlessly handed her his bowl, feeling no further desire to eat.
But what about Shock Absorption? A glaring hole in his theory made itself known. All he’d done to manifest Shock Absorption was get struck by a magical thunderbolt, and he later refined it by nearly getting squished by something several times bigger than him. There was almost no common ground between that and his other skills. How did skill acquisition work? Were they hidden behind secret unlock requirements? Conditions that needed to be fulfilled? No, no, that doesn’t fit. The Manifestation of Order was just classifying things, only making decisions of any consequence when something gets in the way of its goal. Skills weren’t something it had invented, it just did the organization. What, then?
…
Oh.
Cain had been too focused on using video games as an analogy. It was right in the name. Skill. You develop a skill by… developing skill. The skill system used experience in the most literal possible sense; there was no points system, but rather a collection of experiences you expand that affect your growth. There was no difference between a Skill and a skill, other than the presence of mana. Cain poisoned himself, and learned how to recover from poison faster. He was angered by slavery, made an effort to control and that anger, and learned to harness it. He took a heavy hit from a formidable foe, and his body learned how to better resist damage. My skills and attributes are a tangible product of my experiences — a manifestation of how I change and grow as time goes on.
It was a revelation that Cain felt silly for having missed before. He had been using his experiences from Earth to guide his expectations of Erdau, and his over-reliance misled him.
He heard a clack as Magira set her stack of two bowls on the nightstand.
“So, what are we doing today?”
Cain considered it. “We’re trying something new.”
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The Adventurer’s Guild was filled with the usual buzz of activity as adventurers woke up and came to peruse the contracts ready for them. Cain spied the party that had rescued him looking slightly distressed at one of the tables, but weaved between other adventurers to be sure they couldn’t spot him. Fortunately, the Guild was one of the few places where you could blend in whilst still being fully armed and armored, and even dressed in a conspicuously inconspicuous leather cloak — as Cain and Magira both were. He slipped through gaps in the crowd as Magira followed close behind, and found himself stood before a cork jobs board littered with pinned notes. The best way to grow stronger was to collect skills, and the best way to refine skills was to face challenges and have new experiences.
‘See anything interesting?’
He did. First, there was a notice about a new pack of worgs that had been spotted roaming on the outskirts of the Flutewood. While removing the Entropic infestation had helped the forest’s health greatly, it also meant that monsters like worgs could move back in. Second, there was a contract to quell a slime herd. Apparently, a group of slimes native to Mount Silim had been carried east by a river originating from it, and wound up in the hills past the eastern plains. Since they were accustomed to digesting minerals and the few animals hardy enough to survive up on the mountain, they were tearing through the grass at breakneck speeds. That was an ecological disaster waiting to happen.
Cain pulled the sheaf of paper bearing the slime’s contract off the board and held them up for Magira to read.
‘Slimes, huh? We can probably manage that. You want to take this?’
‘Yes. I’ve never fought slimes before, so I want to try my hand at it. Also, there’s a notice up about more worgs, so if we have time to stop by the forest we could cash in on the standing contract for them.’
‘Oh, alright. Which are we doing first?’
‘Slimes. I have a feeling it’ll be easier to find them than the worgs.’
‘Got it.’
Cain walked up to a free kiosk and placed the contract down on the smooth wooden surface, and then fished his Guild identification out of the pouch hanging from one of the fastening straps on his cuirass — sorry, breastplate. Magira had corrected him on that earlier. Apparently a breastplate didn’t necessarily have to be plate armor of any kind. It was just armor that covered the chest. A cuirass, on the other hand, covered the back as well. So it was a leather breastplate. Bah. Cuirass sounds cooler. He placed the metal bit down next to the contract. The employee on the other end of the kiosk looked up, then glanced between him and Magira.
“You two planning to take care of a slime herd on your own,” he asked, “or do you have help with that?”
“On our own,” Cain answered. “I believe we’re equipped to handle it, though.”
The employee shrugged, wrinkling the shoulders of his green vest. “If you say so. Happy hunting.”
The clerk did something with Cain’s license that he couldn’t see behind the kiosk, and then turned over the contract. After marking it with a green stamp and writing something down on it, the contract was passed back to Cain. He murmured a thank-you, and the clerk replied with the obligatory you’re-welcome, and Cain turned to leave. He checked the back of the contract — it had a green compass rose stamped into it with a number written next to the stamp, same as the spiny lynx contract had been. He nodded to himself and folded the contract to tuck into his cuirass. Before he could reach the door, however, he found himself stopped by a familiar face.
“Mina. Did you need something?” He did his best to act innocent, and crossed his fingers that the swordswoman didn’t have a sooth-seer skill of her own.
“I wanted to ask if you’ve seen Fernald about lately,” she said with a concerned knot in her brow. “We haven’t seen him since the day after the celebration. We thought he’d run off with the silver at first, but it was all still in our safe.”
Cain thought up a technical truth on the spot. “I haven’t seen him since that day either, sorry.”
Mina sighed. “Worth a shot, at least. Are you going out on a job?”
“I am. Slime herd in the hills.”
“People don’t usually have enough mana to take on that many monsters alone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed it after that forest fire you caused.” She paused, eyeing him appraisingly. “Actually, will you be free tomorrow?”
A sudden wave of anxiety hit Cain, and he decided to err on the side of caution in his response. “What for?”
“Myself, Roberts, and Irota are going on a worg hunt in the Flutewood tomorrow. We haven’t got a replacement for Fernald yet, so if you wanted to come along we could make use of the extra help. You’d get an even cut of the bounty, as well as the profits from harvesting the bodies.”
Harvesting the bodies? Cain pretended to stroke his chin in thought — to mask that he was busy thinking, of course. He was intrigued by the offer, but wary of the people extending it. If they found out what he’d done, he could end up fighting all three of them at once. Wait, I need to ask Magira about it too…
‘I’m fine with it. We were planning to try and hunt some more worgs on the side anyway, right? It’s your call.’
Alright, flip a coin then. Cain forced himself to make a decision. “Alright. Where and when do we meet up?”
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As the rolling hills loomed ever closer, Cain questioned all of his recent decisions. Agreeing to tag along for the worg hunt, taking the slime herd contract, going to the Adventurer’s Guild that day, getting out of bed in the morning…
“Relax, Cain.” Magira laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’re better prepared now. And on the off chance things go south again, you’ll have backup. Just focus on the slimes for now.”
Cain sighed in frustration. “Thanks.”
He made an effort to heed Magira’s advice, going over what he knew about slimes in his head. She’d described them as ‘living puddles of ooze’ before, which gave him the impression that a slime was more of a living sludge than the gelatinous, bouncy, perfectly round variants popularly represented on Earth. He also knew that they were acidic enough to digest live animals from the description of the contract. The question of ‘how quickly’ would determine how dangerous they were in combat. How quickly could they move? How quickly could they digest him? Magira had also said that these properties made slimes resistant to most non-magical means of attack. Would shadow weaponry be affected by a slime’s acid? Possibly. If it was, his most effective option would likely be using water to dilute the slimes, or using it to try and freeze them.
“Fire would actually work better,” Magira chimed in. “I don’t know how your shadow weapons would do, but water is only partially effective.”
“Really?” Cain turned his head to listen.
“Yeah. It can work, but it’s slower than fire, and it renders the remains unusable. When slimes get hit with fire, they curl up defensively, and it ends up ‘cooking’ them. When it’s done, you’re left with a thick slime membrane holding a bunch of slime jelly inside. The cooked jelly isn’t nearly as acidic, and a lot of alchemists use it as a potion base.”
“Wow.” That was very helpful information.
“Wow?” Queried Magira.
“Yeah, wow. I didn’t expect to get so much information from that.” Cain paused as a thought struck him. “Hey, by the way… how do you know so much about monsters and the Adventurer’s Guild?”
A bittersweet smile crossed her face. “My… my father. Before he made the journey to southern Jeröam where he met my mother, he was an adventurer. He went to all sorts of different places, and fought against all kinds of monsters. He would always tell my sister and I stories about the human cities and the adventures he had.”
He waited for a moment, but spoke when it became clear Magira had said all she intended to. “I see. That makes more sense.”
A semi-awkward silence fell. Cain didn’t know what else to say or ask.
He ended up just walking on in silence, with Magira following close behind. He couldn’t persuade his brain to analyze the upcoming encounter further, either. Instead, he just quietly observed his surroundings as they approached the foot of the first hill. Pale, half-dead grass stretched out in every direction, the same colorless tan as dead wood save for streaks of pale green chlorophyll. The morning light painted the fibrous stalks in a somewhat more flattering palette, but it would soon be replaced with the harsh midday rays. A few bugs and critters scampered around on the ground, but scattered wherever Cain and Magira got too close to them. Behind him, Magira seemed to be gazing distractedly off into the distance, both ears forward. To the north, distant clouds obscured the horizon. A gentle breeze was coming from the north as well, but Cain knew that meant very little because of the altitude difference. His feet registered the incline grow steeper as they reached the bottom of the hill.
As he worked his legs harder and harder to reach the peak of the hill, anticipation grew. Even though it was unlikely, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that when he reached the top, he would see a whole herd of slimes on the other side, just grazing on the grass below. Actual, real-life slimes. The mascot of all starter enemies. It was a little exciting. The slope began to level out, and Cain’s view opened up.
He let out an involuntary gasp.