"No."

"But I'll behave!"

"Still no. I'm sorry, but it isn't safe for you to be in here."

Matilda's pouting grew in its intensity, but Anselm gave Hanne a pointed nod. In a smooth motion, she effortlessly pulled his sister up and carried the child past the door, heading further down the hall.

He didn't wait for her return, instead resuming his work. Tipping what was best described as their miniature cauldron over the funnel, he cautiously filled the opalescent phials. It was enough for five doses, all but guaranteeing he could make more attempts when the inevitable happened. The likelihood of unlocking anything on the first try was low to begin with.

Anselm's only hope was that it wouldn't be overly unpleasant.

"I warded the rooms," Hanne said, inching closer. Her hands were behind her back. Anselm squinted in her direction, not having noticed her return. She just raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Shaking his head, he handed her the mini cauldron. Having a colleague who could cleanse implements through mana manipulation alone was quite the perk, though he could do without the ubiquitous urge to look over his shoulder. The fact that she'd no doubt claimed to have 'only spiked concoctions once or twice' in jest did nothing to alleviate his nerves. If she didn't wish for him to be suspicious of her playing pranks, then perhaps she shouldn't have said that.

Still, they had worked in tandem for years now, unofficial as their education was. Anselm trusted her to not do anything actively malicious, which was more than he could say even for certain family members. In fact, none of them were aware of the extent to this little… project. They didn't know of Hanne's calling, either.

He usually didn't have the heart to turn the little ones away while they brewed, just limiting their work to simple things when they lingered in the workshop, but today required privacy. Even if everything went according to plan.

"How are the pearls going?"

Hanne let out a long, wistful sigh. "Still haven't caught any, but I know it's just a matter of time."

He arced an eyebrow at her, but made no comment. For all he knew, she might turn out to be right someday. Anselm still didn't know how or where she'd gotten veritable bags of dried venaroot. The root wasn't hard to dig up so much as it was difficult to move without scrutiny if you weren't a healing mage. A pinch was enough to temporarily render someone's very blood almost hyperconductive to mana, excellent for permitting the healing of people without mana channels of their own—but dangerous in most other contexts. Mismanaged, it could unwittingly lower someone's resistances or even open them up to an otherwise endurable attack.

"Ready?" Hanne asked while opening a random drawer and all but tossing the small cauldron in.

Anselm nodded, sitting back on the leather armchair next to the cot Hanne pretended was where she slept every night, while she dragged a work chair closer. He sent all but one of the phials to inventory, eyeing the remaining one as Hanne handed him a second tonic. He'd be a liar to deny the hesitation.

Unnamed Tonic

Made by Anselm Rīsan & Hanne Maritima

Refined from powdered venaroot, sunsetblade extract, and a medicinal herb mixture as filler, this tonic makes one's being susceptible to mana permeation and primes them for intrusion.

Unnamed Tonic

Made by Hanne Maritima

Refined from undisclosed ingredients, this tonic primes one's being to retry for Affinities previously deemed incompatible. It is additionally suffused with 57 mana samples, the specificities of which are unknown even to its creator.

Through narrowed eyes, he gave Hanne a look. "Do I even want to know?"

"Nope, it's for the best."

"I'll take your word for it."

Removing the stopper from the first phial, Anselm took a deep breath. Even being of his own making, it still unnerved him, both the knowledge of what he had created, and what he was about to subject himself to. He reluctantly downed the rust-hued liquid, wincing at the subtle bitterness. Hanne's concoction was, for its part, almost a bright teal, and syrupy enough to earn her a glare.

He handed her the empty phials and leaned back, removing the book he'd borrowed from Bernadette from his inventory. He hadn't made any specifications when he asked for something to distract himself with while he 'did something', and Bernadette had seemingly taken that as permission to just give him a tome relating almost exclusively to transcriptions of letters by ancient people he'd never heard of.

The fact that they used a dialect that had Anselm's head going in circles only assisted in distracting him further. He wasn't particularly interested in assorted letters from the antediluvian era, but he'd already borrowed the book—he might as well make an attempt to read it.

"Anything yet?" Hanne's hands were on her lap, and she fidgeted with the fabric of her dress. If he didn't know her for being perpetually jocose, he would have ventured to say she looked worried. In reality, they'd agreed she'd document any and all effects, even if this failed, to help with other experiments going forward.

"Nothing yet," Anselm shut the book and put it away, trying to focus on whatever he felt, if anything at all. The experimental nature of what they were doing meant he remained unsure as to what to expect, exactly. Any side effects should be minor, but he hadn't the faintest clue as to how slowly, or quickly, it would kick in. Well over half an hour had passed.

"Can I see?"

"Yes."

He leaned back and allowed Hanne to poke him around the chest. With its 1242 value, his Circulation was ridiculous for someone without access to mana, but Anselm had long found it did wonders for easing the discomforts working with magical plants would otherwise cause. Hanne had looked him over many times before, and whatever channels he had were nascent at best. So long as he couldn't cultivate, they were closer to shadows of possibility than actual conduits.

Anselm yelped, a strange itch blooming where Hanne was touching him. She frowned. "What does it feel like?"

"As if it were possible to get a rash inside my ribs," Anselm sunk further back into the back of the chair, wincing. "You're using mana?"

"Just, um, exploratory stuff," Hanne spoke as she did when trying to convince strangers that she was actually a healer. It could be worse, he supposed. He'd chosen to make himself vulnerable like this. His colleague kept shamelessly jabbing her fingers around his chest, no doubt taking notes with one of her alchemy Skills. He lacked the knowledge to name the sensations. "I can definitely see how it's making things… flow. But that little core of yours is unaffected so far."

He groaned at that conclusion. Anselm had been bottlenecked at the peak of the Mortal Esse for almost 2 years now, and would always linger there unless he managed to cheat his way to an Affinity. There were alternatives—such as getting a noble with the right skillset to forcibly forge a Class for you—but that was as close to selling your soul as anyone could get. There were too many strings attached.

Before he could give her another update on what he'd noticed so far, Anselm's entire body tensed. He flinched once then twice, unevenly and involuntarily. It was disorienting but painless. Right up until it wasn't. His legs throbbed and twitched, a pressure building up on his head so fiercely he gasped and felt as though he were collapsing despite sitting down.

Anselm hadn't even noticed Hanne lifting him until she pressed him against the cot and moved on to apply a healing balm to his swollen left leg. He was only just shaking off the shock when he tried to move the right one, only to find he couldn't so much as bend his ankle. The glance he managed to sneak told him his limbs were nearly bloating, darkened veins visible on his skin.

"Your body's reacting more violently than we predicted. Hands?" Hanne asked without looking at him. She moved on to the right leg, her mere grip sending him reeling. It was akin to a muscle cramp yet monumentally worse.

Having worn a short-sleeved robe and removed his nail polish precisely for monitoring purposes, Anselm examined his arms between gasps. "Nothing grave so far, though they feel strained. Miscalculation?"

"Likely on my part," Hanne winced then pressed down on his leg, harder. "I thought your Circulation could take it. Mixing physical effects with mana is always tricky. This is my fault, sorry. It'll be okay, I'll make it be okay."

The veins on his arms were starting to darken, the pain spreading. He motioned to show her as much. "Hanne."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Anselm couldn't quite interpret the look in her eyes when coldness suddenly enveloped half his body, numbing the pain but leaving him almost overwhelmingly lightheaded. In his current state, he could somewhat identify the cause of it, the magic she'd started to pour in.

"Will this intervene with the process?"

"Anselm, right now, I could care less about the process. I'm trying to keep you alive."

It struck him then.

[Integrity] 0 / 695

"Oh, wave take me."

He'd have been forced into unconsciousness already were it not for the sunsetblade they'd added as contingency in case he grew ill. It could temporarily halt the near-automatic sleep [Integrity] would trigger when zeroed, though it slowed recovery greatly for a day or so.

"Hanne… The attic window. If anything happens to me, leav—"

All of a sudden, it was as though the relief Hanne's healing provided evaporated, explosive agony making his head snap back as his neck constricted. He felt her touch on his throat an instant later, magic pouring in, but it was all distant, echoes compared to the pain that almost pushed him out of himself.

He was—had been—on the armchair, reading. The latest letter involved someone complaining to their correspondent about an arran that kept climbing up their sparver, and no matter how many times he reviewed the paragraph, he still had no idea what that meant. Did Bernadette of all people prank me?

Anselm's head was swimming. Enough awareness returned that he recalled he was quite some distance from that armchair now, and that Bernadette's reasons for giving him what might as well have been a universal compendium on archaic sentences were likely the least of his concerns. He squirmed but couldn't regain control.

It went from figurative swimming to literal as he felt his surroundings dissolve, his tenuous grasp on reality slipping. He saw stars and heard endless breezes that poured through his ears like water, the mounting pressure worsening his condition by the second even as part of him knew it wasn't, couldn't be, real.

He saw a forested area ahead of him, dissimilar yet reminiscent of the mangroves that bordered on their property, the closest they would ever dare get to seeing the sea above them. He might have screamed.

You have accessed Div—Orac—Foresi— VI— dary>— Denied.

His back arced in reality, soul-crushing anguish seeping through him. Anselm wasn't even bothering to try and understand anything by this point—he just needed it to stop. He'd never been aware of being in a dream before, wasn't even sure if it was one. All he knew was that it wasn't real yet he couldn't force himself awake.

A familiar yet unrecognizable woman stood under bright, almost golden light. He reached out to her with arms that were even thinner than his own. Smaller, too. He was pushed to the water with inaudible warnings, the waterfall all he could hear as the woman's image flickered. The sunlight above her—something he'd never seen firsthand yet somehow identified in that moment—cut off at once, and the water dropped, washing her away just as he himself was yanked down.

"Hanne, what in any Devil's name did you put in this—?"

Something pierced him, like noxious roots tearing into his very being, branding him—

Y̴o̶u̵ ̷h̷a̷v̵e̵ ̴b̷e̶e̵n̶ ̵t̸o̸u̶c̴h̵e̴d̶ ̶b̷y̴ ̸s̷o̵m̷e̴t̶h̵i̴n̶g̷ ̴u̵n̷f̸a̷t̵h̴o̸m̸a̷b̶l̴e̶.̴ ̸T̷e̷l̴l̴ ̴h̴e̶r̵ ̵w̶e̸'̶r̶e̵ ̸c̴o̷m̷i̸n̵g̵.̶

—before they were yanked out.

You have been touched by something unfathomable. Tell her we're coming.

You have been touched by something unfathomable. Tell them they aren't going anywhere.

"Hmmm. One of her lot?" A sinuous form rose from aquamarine waves, its long hair merging seamlessly with the waters. "There might be no one I can stand less than sapheads pretentious enough to think they can own notions. Unfathomable futures, my eye."

The voice appeared close to feminine but everything from its vernacular to how it didn't seem to be coming from its lips made it all too grotesque. All words she spoke fled him like sand through his fingers, though the notifications echoed, panic building in his chest.

Anselm screamed, aware he was in the cot, but Hanne's presence was absent, the pain of his negative reaction to the tonic was absent, even the cot was absent. All he knew was he was writhing, feeling suspended in the air, while the humanoid figure crouched over him, thin fingers dancing across his skin with what appeared to be alien curiosity.

"Children these days have no sense of self-preservation," it hissed, and he couldn't look it in the eye. Even the accidental glance he snuck left him nauseous. Waves of tingling heat coursed through his veins. "Though I won't deny I'm amused, even if—" Anselm could have sworn its elongated fingers went through his head for a moment "—you seem unaware of just what you have done. Thank you for this chance to pull the wool over their eyes, hmm."

"Though it might be best for you if I never see you around these domains again."

The scene with the woman from earlier replayed, backwards this time. Moving towards her instead of being pushed away as the sea rose from her, dark brown eyes with such intensity that they warmed him, her arms contorting as her lips moved, and she said—she said—she—

"Anselm!"

He gasped, eyes opening. Tears had dried on his skin, and now Hanne loomed over him, eyes wide. "Anselm."

"W—" Anselm coughed, almost choking. His throat felt chaffed, and as if prepared for such a thing, she immediately pressed a flask to his lips, cold liquid pouring from it. He coughed again and straightned. The burning had all but faded from his veins, though he was unbelievably sore. "What happened?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Hanne huffed. "I thought I'd fixed it, and then you just started screaming."

Blinking, Anselm shook his head. "I think… I'm not sure, I think I was hallucinating."

"How so?"

Anselm tried to recall the details, sharing what he could. He started with the broken notifications he imagined, moving on to the strange woman, when Hanne gripped his shoulder tightly. "Give me the other phials."

"What?"

"Give them to me. You're not trying this ever again. Understood?"

"Hanne," Anselm frowned. "We miscalculated. But I… I don't intend to give up."

"I know," Hanne gave him a sigh. "Give them to me. Now."

He summoned the phials and glared at her, but handed them over. He didn't recall ever seeing her get this intense. Hanne took them, and stood. She paced around the room, raking a hand across her hair. After what felt like minutes, she turned back and stood at the edge of the cot.

"I don't think you imagined that."

Anselm tipped his head. He called up his notifications, almost irked he hadn't thought to check sooner, but there was nothing there. "The system would show me the notifications, if they had truly happened. I must have been delirious, it… Maybe you're right about… stepping back for a moment, Hanne."

He didn't want to give up on this. Too much depended on it for him. But he could accept having to come up with a different formula. Even if Hanne hadn't pushed, he doubted he could have brought himself to drink either tonic again. He'd felt as though his very veins would burst.

"I need to…" Hanne shifted towards the door. "I need to look into something. Promise me you'll stay and rest."

Anselm scowled. He wasn't sure he could stand from the cot even if he wanted to.

"Promise me!" Hanne's hands went to her waist, a display of her typical petulance. It rang hollow.

"Fine," Anselm grumbled. If he leaned into the pillow, he'd probably fall asleep in seconds. It was tempting. They could postpone discussion of the event until he wasn't dealing with the aftereffects of tonic and zeroed [Integrity] alike.

"Good! I'll ward the doors again when I'm out!"

"Are you locking me in here?"

The only answer Anselm got was the slammed door. He supposed he wasn't exactly in a position to complain.

He'd have to face the details sooner or later, as much as the… experience unnerved him. He'd never before felt as though rationality itself were fleeing him. It was a helplessness he hoped to never taste again.

Anselm knew he ought to be irritated it not only failed to unlock any Affinity for him, but also backfired horribly. But he'd expected the likelihood of the former and had… endured the latter. He was almost too tired to dwell on it, too tired to think of much at all.

For purposes of their eventual discussion, he sought his Status Effects for the debuff [Integrity] should be dishing out. He was familiar with the one for low [Integrity] and its headaches, but he'd never actually seen what having it zeroed out gave. It would at least serve to see it before he allowed himself to fall asleep.

Anselm's blood ran colder than Hanne's magic had.

Visible Status Effects

Blessings: [???]

Buffs: [Soothing Over Time]

Boons: N/A | Neutral Effects: N/A

Debuffs: [Integrity Failure]

[???]

?

She smiles upon you.

He shivered, wishing Hanne hadn't left, because he was utterly nonplussed. Beyond the frantic memories of what he'd thought he'd seen while clinging to barely life, he didn't feel anything abnormal. Not even this. And it's absent from notifications?

The universe also appeared to choose that precise moment to worsen his disarray.

(❗) Beryl Rīsanin is incapacitated!

(❗) Malwine Rīsanin ⊛ lacks a guardian!

Beryl Rīsanin's living will attests necessities relating her and her offspring are entrusted to you. Please confirm or select a suitable replacement.

I—What?