Murgia was having a good day: he woke up in the morning beside his beloved in the rather cramped Captain’s Cabin – made even more cramped by the bulk of his tail – had some good breakfast with the rest of the crew while the people on night duty groaned through it with warm tea in their hands and the need to sleep for an age, then spent most of the morning just looking over the crew up on the bridge, occasionally helping the newbies and directing them towards their ordered destination: the Dukedom of Ermis, near the recently founded Kingdom of Occultism.
Then they’d encountered another airship, one that had looked extremely familiar to him even from such a distance, and, again following orders, had signaled them to slow down and let them onboard.
Seeing how the ship had accelerated a moment later he’d guessed they’d have to do things the hard way.
Then they’d come close enough for him to see the chitin covering all of the wood, the green ropes – which he recognized were actually lianas woven together – and, last but not least, the form of the hull, sleek and long, perfect for speed but, most notable of all, extremely elegant.
He knew of only two people who made ships in that way: the Hermit Genius of Alanna, who only made ships by commission at prices that would make most [Kings] take a double take; and a girl who’d once become his apprentice because of her love for the idea of ‘flying’, mixed in with her absolute hate of politics.
Seeing how only one of those two would have access to the things used to build the airship in front of him, it was obvious who they were tailing: Moon.
An old time… friend? Yeah, they were probably friends. Anyways, an old time friend of his. One he’d helped by selling her nails at half the price they were worth (while paying the remaining fee out of his own pocket), bringing her drinks from all over the world and… yeah, they were definitely friends.
Because of this his day had become even better.
Sure, when he’d written to her with a Message Scroll she’d told him she wouldn’t allow anyone aboard, but so what? They’d just catch up, maybe damage the ship in minor ways (he’d asked the [Mages] to pull their Spells), do an inspection, then go to some city for drinks while he convinced his beloved [Captain] to let her go free because, really, he would rather get his own tail cut off then let the churches get their grubby little hands on her.
Everything had been going wonderfully.
Until one of the Fireballs thrown by one of his [Mages] had suddenly turned around and flown wildly… towards their balloon.
The strings of expletives that left both his and the [Captain]’s mouths were long, colorful and caused a few nearby [Sky Sailors] to turn around and look at them with appreciative expressions, one of them going as far as taking a bit of paper and a pencil out of his pocket and writing them down.
They hadn’t noticed.
Unlike half the rest of the crew.
“[Balloon: Fire Immunity]!” shouted Furioso.
A moment later the Fireball struck their flimsy balloon.
The explosion over their head rocked the airship, making many of the [Sailors] hobble in place while the newbies downright fell on their asses.
Still they floated on, for that was the thing about Fireballs: when they exploded all they did was release extremely warm air – the real damage was usually done by the fire and the shrapnel launched by the explosion. So… they were safe.
“Stop fucking launching Spells! I don’t know how they did that, I don’t know if it’s a Skill or some strange jungle fuckery magic and, most of all, I don’t know if they can do that again! So stop throwing Spells, and that’s an order!”
Immediately the [Mages] lowered their wands or staves, taking a deep breath to calm their racing hearts.
Meanwhile Murgia sighed and shook his head, answering the not-so-subtle question in his captain’s eyes: “I had no idea she could do that.”
“Wrong question Murgia, I could already tell that. If they could’ve done that they would’ve done so already a few minutes ago.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of ritual and it needed time to be prepared,” suggested the naga, although he knew he was speaking out of his tail for that one. There were no rituals – that he knew of – which could just reflect Spells that way. Those were always all or nothing. No, instead they’d only sent back the one Fireball, ignoring the others and the [Lightning Strike] Spells.
“I can already tell you’re sure it’s not that.”
“Could be a Skill.”
“Then how long is its cooldown? And can we be certain without risking them sending more Spells back at us?”
“No, we cannot.”
“Then the question remains: what was it?” wondered the [Captain], a hand on his chin, his index finger beating a slow tempo on his lower lip – which still showed a bit of the bite marks Murgia had left on them last night.
The naga looked away from his lover’s lips and concentrated back on the still-closing-in airship.
And then an idea struck him.
A horrible, scary, idea: “Maybe someone on that ship is Counter-Leveling?”
Furioso’s head immediately snapped towards him, his eyes widening slightly.
Then he simply said: “We’re fucked.”
You see, all over the world, from the moment Levels became available to all living beings, people found out that, sometimes, individuals, usually exceptional individuals, when put in extreme situations, would Counter-Level: that is, begin grinding through Levels and gaining Skills, all at the cost of basically putting their life at stake.
It happened quite often actually, usually on battlefields, where [Soldiers] suddenly became one-man-armies because of their desire to stay alive.
The practice in itself wasn’t bad. The problem came from the culture it arose from: a culture built on and around wars, where people nearly always Counter-Leveled on battlefields… where most of the time they gained Red Skills. Indeed, that was the real problem: it happened so often that now nearly everyone associated the idea of Counter-Leveling with gaining Bloody Skills.
“Should we turn around and leave?” asked Furioso, now suddenly cautious.
The naga hesitated. He, like all jungleborn, feared Counter-Leveling more than the rest of the world, for the jungles were a, if not the, harshest place in the world. Getting Red Skills there was common, to the point where some people had actually started to develop ways to ‘cure’ people of their [Afflictions]. The attempts rarely succeeded, but they were already doing more than the rest of the world.
The two lovers looked at each other, their minds whirling as they tried to make a decision: run away, or risk it all and stay.
The choice was made for them by someone else.
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“I think that scared them shitless,” said Moon, a mad glint in her eyes and smile as she barely managed to contain a chuckle, and even then only because of Murgia’s presence on that airship.
Shriya didn’t immediately answer, completely frozen in place as she just stared behind them, shock written all over her features.
“Aaaaaaaand I think you broke her,” helpfully added Moon, this time not managing to keep the chuckle at bay.
The birdkin [Druid] shook herself out of her stupor and turned to Isse: “Did you know you could do that?”
She shrugged, shaking her head: “No, but I… improvised.”
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The birdkin stared deep into her eyes, seemingly trying to come to a decision: “Explain,” she requested.
“I… I’m a [Soul Mage]. Which means I work with souls, as you could probably imagine,” why did she feel so awkward?
“So, since Mana is the soul of the world, I sort of can interact with the Spells of other people and… change them? Yes, that’s more or less what I can do. Reshape them into something I find more fitting. It’s a lot more complex than what I make it sound.”
She closed her mouth and suddenly, for some reason, she felt a… connection, yes, a connection with Grandmother, more so than she had when she’d been her apprentice. These concepts, these ideas, they had been so alien to her when she’d started, so much so that even this simple concept had been too much for her and had required hours of explanation. Now though? This was easy. Merely the basics. And look at what she could do with just those! She had managed, with that minimal amount of knowledge, to surpass some of the most advanced security systems in the entire city of Tedam and, right now, she’d basically broken the laws of physics and magic, sending back a Fireball!
What would I have been able to do if I’d had just a few more months to train under Grandmother? What kind of abilities would I have unlocked?
Siidi decided not to say anything, for she knew the answer all too well: something not powerful enough to defeat the Law of the Hunters. The only reason they had survived was their old Tradition: [Always, One Survived].
Still, she did say this: Don’t get too cocky. Overconfidence will be our death.
Ah… sorry.
We’re good, but not powerful. We’re very far from powerful, as we’ve been shown in Tedam.
…But we can grow stronger.
For some reason as those words passed through Isse’s mind they felt right, righter than usual.
That we can, and we will, after we survive this.
Isse couldn’t contain the chuckle that escaped her lips: Well, we’re good with that at least. It’s our Class after all.
Siidi chuckled mirthlessly at that.
“You alright? Why did you suddenly start chuckling?” asked Shriya, looking almost… guarded.
“Ah, it’s nothing, I just thought of something extremely sad that’s somewhat funny. You know the feeling, right?”
Shriya couldn’t say she didn’t.
She decided to change the subject: “How much Mana did that take out of you? Do you need a potion?”
Isse checked herself, looking inward, at her very soul, trying to gauge how much of that ethereal substance she’d consumed with that stunt.
That was when she noticed it: a hole. There was a hole in her soul. A hole that led somewhere deep and dark, somewhere where no form of light could ever even imagine to reach. There was a strange, almost bluish, mist coming out of that hole and, as she watched, she saw it slowly condensing, forming small droplets of pure Mana that restored her own reserve.
She knew, as she looked even more, that the hole wasn’t merely one-way: she could take from it, she could literally dry her Mana reserves up and still be able to cast by claiming more of it from that hole, from the source of all Mana. She had been granted a boon, the possibility to access more of that unfathomable, seemingly endless, resource. She had to be careful though, for even that kindness had a hard limit, one she wouldn’t be allowed to surpass.
“It didn’t consume too much Mana.”
She couldn’t be sure though, the hole, no, the Well into the world’s very soul, had already started to replenish her Mana surprisingly fast.
“Very well.”
She looked uncertain for a few moments, then nodded: “Could you teach me?”
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!” shouted Moon behind them.
Immediately Shriya turned both bashful and irritated as she shouted back: “There’s nothing wrong with asking you dumbass!”
“Not the worst thing you called me!”
Isse watched the two as they began to biker, all the while Siidi kept a careful eye on the ship behind them, making sure that no more magical attacks would be coming all of a sudden.
Should I? she asked her soul half.
I don’t know why not. It’s your right to teach whoever you want, what with you probably being one of the last people in the world to know Soul Magic. It all comes down to whether you want to do it or not.
Isse thought about it for a moment: on the one hand, as Siidi had said, she was one of the last people left in the world who knew Soul Magic, if not the actual last person; on the other, she didn’t know Shriya and what she might –
Why do I care about what she’ll do with my magic? It’s not like it’s going to be my problem if she fucks around and finds out.
“Alright, I’ll teach you. Once we’re out of this shitshow.”
Shriya turned away from Moon and looked at the arachne with –
“Ok, stop that creepy smile right now and never smile again for the sake of me keeping my sanity!” shouted Isse as she backed away slowly from the suddenly very happy birdkin [Druid], whose face was now sporting an absolutely horrific smile.
And at that, Moon burst into laughter.
Although the sound was overshadowed by the absolute storm caused by a murder of ravens probably bigger than the airship itself passing by and flying towards the silver ship behind them.
They all stared, completely slack-jawed, as the volatiles began attacking [Sailors] and ropes indiscriminately, causing panic, mayhem and general hilarity on Moon’s part.
A crow, one with feathers that were more gray than black, landed on the helm and looked at the three of them, examining them through black beady eyes, as if he were looking for something specific.
Its eye alighted on Isse and stayed there for a long, long, time, before it ruffled its feathers gently and croaked out: “The arachne is found! She will be safe! Kraaaaaa!”
Isse looked at the board in absolute shock and, before she could stop herself, not even realizing that this was just a bird who probably couldn’t understand her, asked: “You saw me? Through the dress?! How?”
The crow tilted its little head sideways, first to the left, then the right, then back to the right, and Isse was just a moment away from slapping herself on the forehead and calling herself an idiot for having asked something to a bird, when it answered… sort of.
“Kraaaa! Silk can’t fool! Silk isn’t shiny!”
And again Isse found herself gaping at the bird.
She would’ve probably stayed there for a while longer, but Moon spoke: “Hey, crow, you’re cute and strange and interesting and all, but could you tell your pals there on that other ship to stop damaging the ropes? There’s people on there I’d rather not die, old friends of mine.”
The crow turned towards her, saying nothing.
“You can keep your friends there if you wanna, just to scare them stiff. You alright with that?”
The crow stared at her, but Moon easily stared back.
In the end the bird crowed loudly towards the air and, suddenly, all the crows and ravens on the other ship stopped, flying a bit higher before stopping on the wooden masts, their forms seemingly fusing together to form one great mass of darkness that obscured the balloon over the [Sailors]’ heads.
The [Occult Engineer] nodded: “Thank you.”
She then proceeded to take out the same Message Scroll as before and began writing on it.
The young arachne peaked over her shoulder and began to read.
Mo: Hoy, Murgia! You still alive?
Mu: Alright, fuck you and whatever the fuck you did just now with the crows.
Mo: Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t my doing?
Mu: …Maybe. Tell them to leave please.
Mo: No can do Murgia, old pal. I barely negotiated a ceasefire. You better tell your men not to do anything stupid to those crows you’ve got nesting up there.
A moment later they all heard something that sounded a lot like a shouted order and Isse clearly saw the distant [Sailors] stiffening up.
Mu: The [Captain] wants to know what demands you have. And… did anyone, you know, Counter-Level?
Moon’s eyes darkened a bit at the last question, before she wrote down:
Mo: Come with us to the Kingdom of Occultism, be nice all the way there, and have a drink with me. I’ll offer this time. Gotta start paying you back for all the free alcohol you gave me while I was building the Amissa. As for your question, no, nobody Counter-Leveled, although I think my passenger did gain a Level for that stunt with the Fireball.
Mu: Phew. Good to know. Congratulate them from me then. They managed to scare the living shit out of us.
The Scroll went silent for a while, then the person on the other side wrote again:
Mu: Anyways! I’m glad you decided to pay me back! Although, I do think that all those bottles I gave you did more damage than good. Just look at that abomination you fly around in!
Mo: Hey! She’s a beautiful abomination. Do we have an agreement?
Mu: Wait a moment.
They waited for a minute or two, or maybe an hour, Isse couldn’t tell for certain with how excited she was.
Then, finally, the answer came:
Mu: The [Captain] agrees to your demands.
Mo: Great! Tell him he’s also invited for drinks!
Mu: Will do.
And with that Moon rolled up the Scroll and smirked.
“Welp, this went surprisingly better than expected.”