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To Reap What They Sow
Welcome Reprieve

Welcome Reprieve

Satisfied with the new creation, Malcom decided that he would put off summoning one until he dealt with the rest of his leveling notifications. If he didn't, he would have wanted to immediately start investigating the new summons features, abilities, and everything else. Once he hashed out the rest of his level-ups, he could start working through the new information. Now he just had to select a perk for the completion of the first notification box, and this time he actually was presented with a selection to choose from. Rather than a list, though, he was able to see the roots of an organizational tech-tree of sorts. He was only able to see the basic perk of each category until he made a selection, which explained why the notifications demanded that he go through each of these in turn.

The basis of the choice seems to come down to the potential aspects of a dungeon and where he wanted to specialize. An option for summoning being cheaper was one of his options, which appealed to him from the aspect that it might make his initial fantasies of dragon-summoning come to fruition. Another choice specialized in traps and mechanisms. Perhaps an insight into machinery, mechanisms, and the like would allow him to come up with more insight into his mechanical summon? No, no. He refused to let himself be led down a rabbit-hole of what-ifs. The last choice was to delve into magic, allowing him more fantastical options to add to the dungeon. If that option would eventually let him cast spells himself, he felt it would be the strongest. Magic was the greatest unknown to him, and if there was going to be a solution to his problems, it was likely to dwell in the magical arts. Swimming in thoughts of being able to teleport himself around, send magical messages to try and establish contact with Amanda, or simply take a more personal hand in the removal of any pesky intruding scum, he decided to venture into the tree of magic.

The perk increased his base mana regeneration, as well as unlocking a slew of bronze and silver-tier rated spells. A broad assortment from the typical burst of respective elements such as ice, fire, and lightning to the more esoteric slowing spell. Of particular note, there was a spell listed as 'clairvoyance'. Surely the ability to see into the future couldn't be achieved so readily? However, the description merely stated that it was capable of sensing events of grand importance and an approximate sensation of timespan before it would occur, without any insight as to the event being important for positive or negative reasons. Oh well. Going up in ranks was likely to offer the truly impressive magics, so he was hardly disappointed with his new abilities. Or, well, the availability of those abilities. When he confirmed and closed his first level-up notification, he tried to conjure a ball of flame in the area near his core. Self-discipline only went so far, and he had at least completed this level up, right? Who could resist trying actual magic?

When he focused on his attempt, he could see mana leaking from his core in a silver string, the flow starting as little more than fishing line before thickening to that of a proper climbing rope. The strand flowed forward at a steady pace, and while he could manipulate the way it moved, he couldn't make it go any faster or slower. It seems that spellcasting was going to happen at a very specific, fixed pace. A shimmering knot of rather annoying complexity hovered in the air in his sight, in the location he had pictured creating the ball of flames. Intuition was telling him that by arranging this strand of mana in the correct fashion, it would achieve what he wanted and manifest fire. However, it wasn't even a step-by-step follow-along process, he simply was displayed the end result. This was akin to being handed a painting and being told to duplicate it without any idea of how to form brush strokes. Needless to say, the mana-rope tangled in a jumbled mess, and as it grew further and further from the intended result, a sense of mental strain was building.

When the strain became too much, Malcom released the mana from himself, and it burst forth like a coiled spring being released. A vicious torrent of wind swirled wildly around his inner sanctum, eventually puttering out into stillness again. This was going to take a whole lot of work... unless something further in the magic perk-tree was going to make things easier for him. Giving a mental scowl of irritation at the revelation, he turned to his next notice, almost impatient to get through it to see if he could find a solution.

New summon selected via hybridization: Mechanical

Perk available. Please make your selection.

'Lovely. Just one more thing that these alerts refused to forewarn me about. Ah well. I'm still satisfied with the Crowforged, even if I have to spend my second selection on it. I was looking forward to picking a dragon just to see what the mana cost and options were like...' At least Malcom could get on to selecting his next perk, and he noticed that the only option that appeared was the higher level of his current magic tree. Whether the other options were gone forever or not, for the moment they were no longer available. He hadn't planned on dipping his toes in all of them regardless. The next level of options branched off into three paths once again, and he could go for a strict mana-generation increase, unlock the next tier of magical spells, or unlock the ability for his minions to become spellcasters.

Frustratingly, they all appealed to him. The first because it simply would help relieve the gnawing hunger he was still feeling from his abysmal mana-generation rate compared to his gargantuan mana pool, while unlocking more spells would let him peek behind the curtain at even more powerful options. It was likely to be even more devilishly complex, though, so he reluctantly put his curiosity aside. The last option, though... he had an adaptation available for the Mechanical due to his next level up waiting in the wings. If he unlocked the ability to create a spellcasting robot, wouldn't the issue of precision and accuracy of spellcasting be resolved without him having to deal with it? A smart man uses his tools, rather than try and brute force everything by themselves! He locked his perk into the spellcaster unlock, and completed the level.

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Now, with only one notification hovering in his face, it was time to select his base Mechanical adaptation. As odd as it sounded to be 'mutating' a machine, that was the selection required to add in the spellcasting ability he had just unlocked. As before, an image hovered onto the screen to allow him to preview his new creation after his choice. This summon lacked the avian features that his hybrid creation displayed, merely resembling a human man with full-plate armor grafted onto their body. It seems some of the 'bonus' of the hybrid's union was lost, as this machine-man lacked the series of zoom-capable lenses over the eyes, and the natural weapons of the talons and claws. Instead, the grey-steel surface of metal was intricately inlaid with arcane carving, sigils, and flowing lines that moved from one sigil to the next in a formation that very nearly resembled circuitry. In fact, it might well have been some form of mana-circuitry. Now that the Mechanical Caster adaptation was complete, it was listed at a cost of five thousand mana each.

'I never thought I would complain that the increase wasn't a factor of ten this time... it must have something to do with all those symbols. Still, as long as they can handle the spell-casting for me, it will be worth it. I want to make one right away, but at the rate I'm gaining mana, I won't be able to start one for several more hours unless something new changes.' With one more perk selection, he would be done with the process of selecting his upgrades, thank goodness. The previous two options of his tree remained available, while above the last choice three more were added. The first was called 'conduit', and allowed him to cast his spells through his spellcasting-capable minions. 'Wait, I can't do that already? Great, some new complication to find out later.' The other options were to increase his magic-capable summons magical offense and defense, respectively. 'Well, I can't cast anything through my summons if I can't cast it myself, so that seems a little premature. I don't need any of these at the moment, I need more power.'

He dropped back to the previous level, and took the selection to increase his mana generation. This time, he was oh-so grateful for the factors-of-ten. It applied when it was giving him benefits too, thank goodness. Now, instead of trying to fill an Olympian pool though a straw, he was at least provided a hose. It was still slow, but at least now there was an appreciable difference from moment to moment, as if time was actually decreasing his ravenous, distracting hunger. 'Much better. Give this an hour or so, and hopefully I'll be able to think without having to ignore the gnawing in the back of my mind. I'd better wait for the reserves to fill a bit before spending, else I'll end up right back on empty again.' A shrill caw reverberated off the walls, ruining his relief almost immediately. Shooting a mental scowl at the Picantch perched on the edge of his pedestal, staring at him. It had just arrived after being called back to be questioned on the goings-on outside.

Malcom had completely driven the incident from his mind, and pushed his command through the mental link in a rush, 'Quiet! Ugh. Get back to the roost and don't move unless I tell you to!' The mental demand was all but shouted, and the Picantch took off so fast that a pair of its dusky feathers drifted slowly to the floor from its departure.

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At the same time, hundreds of birds that had sat and stared up into the sky without so much as a twitch shrieked into the air like missiles, frantically cawing and jockeying each other to try and reach the head of the flock as fast as possible. 'Roost! To the roost! Hurry to the roost! The great Voice demands!' Like a demon was on their tails, the entire flock flew off from the east side of town. It was long moments before anyone dared to unlatch a door and make a move outside. The ground was strewn with black-feathered Picantch corpses and mangled meat of townsfolk ravaged to the point that a mass grave or pyre was going to be the only option. In many cases, it was difficult to discern which parts were supposed to accompany which body. Even the hardened soldiers in the lord's manor were feeling ill. They've been to war, but it was different seeing neighbors, friends, or even family strewn about so gruesomely.

Without rhyme or reason, those devilspawn birds were gone. After days of lingering, silence was finally allowed to settle over the town instead of the continual flapping they had been enduring for days upon days. The first sound to break the new silence was sobbing. Was it relief, or grief, that brought one survivor after another to tears. Both? In the end, it didn't matter. The issue of clean-up alone would be a tremendous task, one that if not handled properly and promptly could envelop those that remained with an awful 'bout of disease. After everything else, a plague might just be enough to wipe Kremston off the map, if there were any folk willing to remain at all.

The mage's tower powered down the shields, and a few robed figures began to head toward the lord's manor, furtively glancing at the skies with a hunched posture that seemed ready to dive for cover or break into a sprint at any moment. There were times when one could maintain an aloof, carefree image of superiority, but treading through the assorted ankle-deep piles of scattered remains littering the road was not one of them. The front doors of the manor had been swung open, several armored men standing in ranks on either side, while the hulking figure of the captain of the guards strode out into the open. A gauntleted fist tightened, the leather of the joints creaking as he surveyed the damages. When the mages approached, he barked a demand at the leader of the small group to get inside and prepare for a magical message. He had some old companions he needed to get in touch with...