《Demon of the Darkest Night》


 The Trials

    System initializing¡­


    Relocating target to [coordinates]¡­


    Designating plane: Non-Contender 17


    Rebuilding laws¡­


    %*($&#%(*&%&(*.........


    ¡­¡­


    ¡­¡­


    ¡­¡­


    Beginning Race Assessment: Human


    Please State Your Name Clearly


    Mason felt an instinctive blink, as if he were trying to process the light he was seeing, but he could not feel his eyelids move. As he tried to turn, he found that the black letters remained suspended before him, while the normal sensation of movement was missing. There was no air, he couldn¡¯t see his hands and body beneath him.


    The voice repeated its demand.


    He felt his initial um filtered from speech, and all that was left from his statement to linger in the air was, ¡°Mason Nevels.¡±


    These words appeared in red underneath the black letters, then flashed green as he confirmed them mentally, before both sets of words disappeared.


    Assessing Age: Category Five


    Assessing Race: Human


    Physique: Normal


    Assessing skills, strengths, and intelligence, ranked according to racial profile.


    Suddenly, the weight of his body returned to him, and the white light of his room was replaced with utter chaos. He dropped to the ground, terrified as he felt the burst of heat from a fireball flashing through the space where he once stood.


    Mason rolled, jumped to his feet, and sprinted as far and as fast as he possibly could. Rocks began to fall from the blank sky, and he dodged them as best as he could. He stumbled and rolled as some of the smaller pieces collided against him and his ankles rolled over the debris on the ground.


    Agility: Excellent


    Endurance: Excellent


    His body disappeared again, and all he could perceive was the white light.


    Then questions began to roll through his mind:


    What runs but has no feet? What has a mouth, but no tongue?


    He would have laughed if his speech was enabled; he had seen this riddle in an old cartoon once.


    ¡°A river.¡±


    What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen¡­


    And the questions rolled at him as quickly as the obstacles in the physical challenge.


    When he had answered all of them correctly, his body was returned. Suddenly, he was in water - no, rapids - and could see uprooted trees rushing down the river toward him and a cluster of jagged rocks ahead of him. He could see in the distance a path through the rocks, so he paddled as hard as he could to direct himself where his body wouldn¡¯t be crushed.


    Intelligence: Excellent


    Willpower: Excellent


    Challenge after challenge came, interspersed with the strangest questions, riddles, and more.


    Choose a door between one and three.


    ¡°One.¡±


    Door three is revealed to be the incorrect door. Will you remain with door one, or switch to door two?


    ¡°Switch to door two.¡±


    Correct.


    His mind struggled to question what was happening. He had the vague notion that whatever was happening was forcing his mind into submission, trying to prevent him from doing anything but answer the questions honestly or perform in the challenges.


    What bothered him the most - his mind choked out through a series of sputtering half-thoughts - was how often he had seen the word excellent. He was of middling fitness and he liked to believe slightly above average intelligence. But every question seemed to be something he already knew, and every physical challenge seemed to place him exactly where he needed to be to react safely.


    He could barely struggle to conceive of time, but hundreds of questions had flown at him, more dangerous threats than he could count had presented themselves to him, and yet he got through it relatively unharmed.


    Analysis Complete


    Subject: Mason Nevels


    Status: Healthy


    Racial Aptitude: Excellent


    Initializing Stats¡­This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Human Base:


    Strength: 2


    Agility: 2


    Intelligence: 2


    Willpower: 1


    Vitality: 1


    Endurance: 2


    Creativity: 3


    Aptitude Bonus for Mason Nevels: +1 focus to all characteristics¡­


    Completed Hidden Challenge: Best in Race! Achieve top marks in your assessment for your race: +1 focus to all characteristics


    Completed Hidden Challenge: Primordial! First of your race to complete assessment: +1 focus to all characteristics


    Completed Hidden Challenge: Undying Assessment! Attain no fatal injuries during your assessment: +1 focus to vitality


    Completed Hidden Challenge: Ambassador! First of your race to meet a host: +1 focus to creativity


    No skills selected by assessment: prerequisites exceeded. Skills will be unlocked over time.


    Mason had no time to comprehend any of these messages. Instead, he was completely overcome by the feeling of pressure on all sides of him. It was excruciating at first, but the pain rose to the point of becoming mind-numbing. Moments passed but the sheer stimuli from the pain prevented Mason from tracking it.


    Then, like air in a balloon, he felt a popping around him and his body released, his limbs flailing out at high velocity as he collapsed to the ground.


    It took him a moment to stagger to his feet and look around, but when his eyes began to register what he was seeing, he felt the blood rush from his body, his hearing to go out, and his vision to pale. He was standing on a pile of viscera, blood smattering the stone floor and altar around him.


    It looked like the ruins of an old temple, with a yellow-brown stone altar beneath him, and high, torch-lit walls all around. There were corpses everywhere, and blood dripped from the ferns and moss which made their homes between the cracks of the old bricks.


    Completed Hidden Challenge: Hunter of Legends! Slay the first legendary boss for your race: +2 FP to either strength, dexterity, or intelligence.


    He shook the message from his mind, and peered closer at the ground. There were coins spilling from a pouch, and as he picked it up, the blood dried and faded from its surface. Beside the pouch, there was a long, dark stretch of twisted wood. Mason picked it up only to receive another notification.


    Completed Hidden Challenge: Wielder of Legends! Retrieve the first Legendary Weapon for your race: +5 to Equip skill, Legendary Weapon [Staff of Mardun] usable immediately


    He felt power surge from the staff and into his skin, but it quickly subsided.


    Mason glanced around the room again, then dropped the staff, fell to his knees, and lost his mind. ¡°Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, what the ever living fuck is happening¡­¡±


    Spawn invulnerability will be cancelled in five minutes. A one-time portal has been summoned to teleport you to the nearest friendly safe-town for your race.


    A bright flash of light later, Mason saw the portal open up- a powerful aurora of swirling magentas- and on a whim he ran straight for it.


    <hr>


    ¡°These¡­ humans. They¡¯re not even magical. The last dozen non-magical races we dropped into the system were extinct or enslaved within a few cycles. And look at how plain they are. I don¡¯t see any reason they should get preferential treatment when the great Magi-Kings of Secundar were unceremoniously dropped in without so much as a greeting,¡± whined the first of several voices.


    ¡°Yes, my magnificence, you are right. They have no magic, but look at what they¡¯ve made of their world without it. It¡¯s unprecedented in our search to see a race so adaptable, so ingenious, and so devoid of mana. They may not be powerful now, but what will happen to them if the mana can change them?


    ¡°You all have heard my position on the matter. Allow me to interfere with just a single human. I will set the system in his favor, granting him an increased allotment of our resources, a relatively safe area, and we can observe how he does. If he fails, his race is no less doomed than the rest of the universe at the moment.¡±


    <hr>


    Mason fell to his knees in the middle of a dirt field. He was covered in blood, holding tightly to a gnarled black staff with an iridescent green gem the size of his fist in the top, and there was nothing but sparse trees and brown grass for nearly a hundred yards in any direction from him.


    The safe-town he had been promised was conspicuously absent.


    There was a message in the dirt, half-carved and half-burned into the ground was the message, ¡°Three months before your people come here. Find strength. Guide them.¡± Each letter was nearly a foot in height, so it took Mason some time to walk the length of the message and read it. Before he even finished, the wind picked up to blow the charred dirt away, hiding the message forever.


    ¡°What the fuck, universe? Did you just go and break on me? What the fuck do you expect from me now?¡± He cast about, and even as far as he could see, there was nothing to give him any hint of where he was. Beyond the hundred yards or so of sparse vegetation, there were simply thicker patches of trees that became woods and a forest, and the faint impression that the land rose up into hills and mountains further away.


    He took a deep breath and plopped down in the dirt, not minding that his already-ragged and bloody jeans and cotton t-shirt would end up worse for it. They wouldn¡¯t do much good as they were, anyways. Deep breaths tried to slow his heart-rate, calm his mind, but any thought he had about his current predicament sent both racing. He recalled the assessment, but already it was just a blur - a dream of sorts. But then his memory got to the results, and those became crystal clear in his mind. As he focused on them, he could almost imagine a screen forming in front of him.


    And then he could see a screen actually form in front of him. His eyes open now, he cast around to see a wealth of information. First was the console, the most recent message being that his invulnerability had ended. There were options on one of his achievements: Hunter of Legends allowed him to spend skill points and, quickly considering the staff in his hand, he clicked intelligence.


    With that sorted out, he cast his glance to the side and thought about his status. The screen switched again.


    Mason Nevels:


    Classless Human


    Strength:  2 (+3)


    Agility:  2 (+3)


    Intelligence:  2 (+5)


    Willpower:  1 (+3)


    Vitality:  1 (+4)


    Endurance:  2 (+3)


    Creativity:  3 (+4)


    Skills: Equip (5)


    You¡¯ve received the starter challenge: Skillful.


    Skillful: Unlock six skills to determine your starting class. (1/6)


    Remembering the human default stats, he breathed a sigh of relief. All of his skills had bonuses that at least doubled that of the default, which meant that hopefully he wouldn¡¯t be in immediate peril, even though there was no town here.


    He blinked twice then, shaking himself to realize he was being insane. It had only taken minutes for him to start thinking in terms of video games, which, he presumed was appropriate given the stat sheets and challenges. But it was almost irresponsible to just accept that. Almost.


    No, he¡¯d read stories about getting stuck in a video game: the first rule was to suffer from complete disbelief and shock, and act as if he didn¡¯t know the bare fundamentals of a video game.


    Then he remembered the message on the ground. If he was truly alone for three months, he had better hope those stats were correct. There was no way his normal body would be able to survive in the wild for three months with his total lack of experience, but if he had stat boosts and magic¡­


    He held his staff out in front of him and decided to try something simple. He waved it gently, focused on a point in the distance, and thought, fireball.


    When nothing happened, he tried shouting it.


    Then he tried picturing it, red-hot and flaming, energy condensing on a point, growing from the tip of his staff and soaring through the air in front of him¡­ But again, nothing happened.


    He swore again, and began marching toward the tree-line to get out of the sun.

 ~ Two - Focus

    ¡°Yes, yes, I recognize this doesn¡¯t cost us anything, but where is the fun? We¡¯ve all watched these monkeys root around in the dirt before, and this one won¡¯t even have those metal-sprayers they¡¯re all so fond of.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s an idea,¡± chimed a third, booming voice. ¡°Let¡¯s just drop a whole lot of them with their metal sprayers and see if they can pose a challenge to one of the other races. That¡¯ll make for a good show.¡±


    ¡°Friends,¡± the second voice chimed in, exasperated, ¡°How could it not be fun watching him struggle? I won¡¯t even place any shelter for him. And what if I grant him the Staff of Mardun. It¡¯s an old relic, but still quite strong. It will force him to deal with mana sooner rather than later, and that¡¯ll be quite a show. Maybe he¡¯ll come up with some spells all on his own. Maybe he¡¯ll burst into flames.


    ¡°Or maybe he¡¯ll actually be able to come and kill us all so he can fix this damned universe.¡±


    There was an atmosphere of awe at the idea, and the other two both stayed silent for much longer than was their usual wont.


    ¡°Do you really think there¡¯s a chance he could become so strong?¡±


    ¡°We can only hope.¡±


    <hr>


    As Mason fell under the shade of the tree-line, he could feel his skin start to cool immediately. It had grown pink in place of the pale he was used to, but he supposed that couldn¡¯t be helped. He had spent enough time throwing a fit out in the field, and the sun really was blazing today.


    When the trees grew thick, it quickly became a completely different ecosystem. Long-dead leaves, sticks, and branches lay scattered across a distance of brambles and bushes filling in the space between tightly packed trees. He wished he had found a sword instead of a staff- this land would need to be cleared one way or another.


    His stomach rumbled, and he shivered as a gust of wind caught the sweat on his skin and dropped his temperature quickly. Sighing, he began picking his way deeper into the trees, hoping to find water, food, and shelter.


    Mason hadn¡¯t gone far before he heard a skittering amongst the brambles. He saw nothing, but with the way the sound popped up along his horizon, he feared that whatever was making the noise was either very quick, or that there were many of them.


    Hoping against reason that whatever it was would leave him alone, he kept moving, using his staff here and there to push thorny vines out of his way, and moving gingerly as if the plants were more of a threat than an inconvenience.


    The rustling didn¡¯t stop, but instead grew more frequent, following him.


    He pushed his staff well ahead of him to try to sweep out a path through the undergrowth, but when he lowered the end of it to find the ground, it seemed to press into something squishy- and in moments everything went haywire.


    The skittering grew loud as four greyish black blurs darted up nearby trees, and then one of them launched itself directly at Mason. He screamed, a high-pitched, nasally thing, and tried to duck down and run, but that didn¡¯t prevent the sharp claws of whatever was attacking him from leaving thick red marks along his skin.


    Though the cuts weren¡¯t shallow, they seemed to hold together and he only lost a little blood as he ran, being hounded by these strange creatures no matter how fast he went.


    He finally broke out past the brush into a region which was somewhat clearer- a muddy, clay-like basin which slowed him considerably but whose spindly grasses were much worse cover for the beasts.


    Seeing them did not make them less threatening though- like a cross between a squirrel and an imp, they truly were a greyish blue, with thick, tough-looking skin and angular features. They sprinted on all fours and launched themselves claw-first.


    Mason drew his staff and began swinging, recklessly, as the squirrel-imps kept attacking.


    In a bout of extreme luck, he managed to crack one in the head with his staff.


    It fell to the ground, dazed, and scampered a few feet away, but more noticeable was the resulting notification.


    You¡¯ve attacked an enemy! Your health and mana will now be revealed. Stay determined, and you will grow stronger.


    Health: 14/20


    Mana: 0/20


    Mana (Mardun): 0/20


    ¡°Now they tell me¡­¡± Mason didn¡¯t have time to figure out why his mana was empty, but he was pleased to see that his health was still considerably high. Taking a deep breath, he tried to track one of the imps, and swung at it right after it leapt at him.


    He managed to connect the gem of the staff with the middle of the imps body, and it flew back into the ground and rolled before righting itself. ¡°Okay, you¡¯re not down yet, but you¡¯re not impossible to hit, either.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Congratulations, you¡¯ve unlocked a skill! You¡¯ve learned Focus.


    Focus: Concentrate on the objective at hand, making more careful observations and increasing your ability to react. Wisdom and endurance improve the duration you can use Focus.


    Congratulations, you¡¯ve discovered the Staff of Mardun¡¯s first ability, Mana Vampirism!


    Mana Vampirism (Mardun): Leech mana directly from the life-force of any target. Mana gathered this way will enable you to cast empowered life-stealing spells. Your base mana pool is halved while this staff is equipped.


    These notifications flicked past his eye, and he only was able to gather the gist of either of them, obviously noticing the words focus and mana. What was more pressing was a significant burning sensation in his hands, as the staff warmed up to an intense degree.


    He screamed, this time in a much deeper octave- a scream not of fear, but of agony. Every part of his body alternately tingled or shocked, and he had to fight to prevent himself from twitching. He hardly even noticed one of the imps latching onto his back and biting vigorously at his back.


    ¡°Fucking stop!¡± He shouted, spinning around and grabbing at the beast on his back. He ripped it off hastily and felt his skin go with it, then in a fury he smashed the butt of his staff onto the beast as it landed on the ground.


    To his surprise, the attack actually went straight through the beast, and it died before him.


    Another notification popped up in his vision but he dismissed it mentally.


    He felt his eyes go wide, and he took another deep breath, listening and looking for the next attack.


    He saw a blur of motion to his right, and he swung his staff out. Focusing all of his attention on that point, he let loose the painful electric feeling from within him.


    It moved like a puff of air, but he could see black streaks move out and past the imp as it flew. By the time it made it to him, it had gone limp, its eyes fluttering slightly. The black streaks in the air returned to the staff even as Mason swung it at the imp that he had knocked to the ground.


    What he experienced as he had released the energy felt like the exhaustion of total release- every muscle weakening, but with the return of the black wave he felt the staff feeding more of the electricity back into him, charging him up.


    He hazarded a glance at his stat screen.


    Health: 8/20


    Mana: 0/20


    Mana (Mardun): 2/20


    The fire raged within him, and he knew he had to let it go. He found his next target, and then another, releasing that wave at both of them. When they were downed, he smacked each of them with his staff to make sure they stayed that way.


    There were four dead imps scattered about him now. One of them was split in half from the force of his stabbing, while the other three just looked mildly deflated. He gritted his teeth, the Mardun mana eating away at him from the inside.


    Withdesperate hope, he launched the spell in a continuous stream at the sky, and didn¡¯t move to pull any energy back toward the staff.


    Mason felt a momentary peace as his muscles relaxed and the energy disappeared, but then he collapsed in a heap, leaning heavily on his staff to keep him from laying in the clay-like mud.


    ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± He asked to the bodies of the squirrels around him.


    <hr>


    After a short rest, he got back up, but his head swam dangerously and he stumbled halfway across the muddy path to lean against a tree. The mana had done considerable damage to his body, in a way that his health was not reflecting.


    His muscles burned like they had been worked out well beyond the point of exhaustion, but he knew that despite the cuts he had sustained and the exploration he had done so far, nothing explained the agony he was in like that mana had.


    ¡°Is all mana so dangerous, or is the vampirism mana somehow different? Maybe if I level up the vampirism it won¡¯t hurt so badly. Hell, maybe I can use it for an actual spell instead of that life sucking thing. Fuck, this never happens to mages in video games.¡±


    He bent down and picked up the nearest imp thing, its mangled body dry from having been life-drained. ¡°I wish I knew what level this was. Aren¡¯t video games supposed to have name plates?¡± He pulled it up to his face and looked closely at it. With a deep breath, he tried to channel his focus ability.


    Pain shot through his body again, and he saw a new bar show up on his status.


    Stamina: 0/20


    Right, he thought, I¡¯m exhausted.


    He noticed another status icon, and putting his mind to it, it expanded with a description.


    Mana Sickness: Your underdeveloped body cannot handle mana. Its presence drains your stamina and prevents health regeneration for a short time.


    And that¡¯s just great.


    He looked again at the imp, and noticed for a brief second a flicker above its head. He saw its name, Imp-Squirrel Level 2?.


    Judging by the very unofficial name, he presumed that this status was partially driven by his own understanding. The question mark after the level wasn¡¯t very reassuring, but he figured it made sense; after all, he didn¡¯t really know, and it was him that tried to analyze it.


    Congratulations, you¡¯ve unlocked a skill: Analyze (Focus).


    Analyze: Through your own observations and understanding, identify and assess characteristics of the world around you and all that inhabits it. Intelligence increases the speed at which you can compare a subject to existing knowledge. Creativity increases your ability to intuit information about an unknown subject. Your skill in Focus will improve this skill in a variety of ways.


    Collapsing backwards against a tree, Mason¡¯s eyes closed momentarily as he tried to rally his energy. He wanted to keep moving- had to keep moving if he hoped to survive for long- but his body rebelled against him.


    He looked at his stats, and with another deep breath, concentrated on using his focus ability to look at them more closely. A splitting pain shot through his skull which sent him crouched on the ground against the tree, but when he looked at his screen, he saw what he wanted to know.


    Health: 9/20 (1/hr) (Affected by Mana Sickness)


    Mana: 0/20 (0/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 0/20


    Stamina: 0/20 (1/min) (Affected by Mana Sickness)


    ¡°Okay, so I¡¯ll recover, but not quickly. I wonder how long mana sickness lasts?¡± He looked at its description again, then swore as he realized what he¡¯d have to do. He took a breath, and channeled his focus ability. The pain was worse this time, and his eyes closed as he collapsed to the ground.

 ~ Three - Mana Sickness

    When he woke, it was obvious that nighttime was on its way. The forest was dimmer, and pale beams of light shone through only at odd angles ahead of him. He looked back to the indicator for mana sickness in his status screen, and breathed a sigh of relief.


    Mana Sickness: Duration Remaining: 20 minutes


    If he could just survive twenty minutes, his health and stamina would begin to regenerate. He just had to stay away from any enemies for the time being, and try not to exert himself.


    There were several other notifications he¡¯d been ignoring on his status screen, so mentally willing it to show unread messages, he saw a new list:


    Focus Levelled Up (x2) - Level 3


    Mana Vampirism Levelled Up (1) - Level 2


    Analyze Levelled Up (1) - Level 2


    Staff Specialization Levelled Up (1) - Level 2


    And then below those,


    Congratulations, you¡¯ve discovered the Staff of Mardun¡¯s second ability, Life Drain!


    Life Drain (Mardun): Draw the life-force directly from your opponent, absorbing a small amount for yourself. Intelligence increases the amount of life drained from an opponent. Wisdom and vitality increase your ability to absorb the life force into yourself.


    Congratulations, you¡¯ve unlocked a skill: Staff Specialization!


    Staff Specialization: A staff fighter knows that the ability of his body and mind are only as powerful as the abilities of the conduit they rely on.


    You¡¯ve completed your challenge Skillful.


    You¡¯ve unlocked the class, Magical Hopeful.


    You¡¯ve received one FP for Willpower.


    This is just too much. Am I seriously getting level up notifications? Fighting imp squirrels and trying to endure mana poisoning? Great news: I get to live the dream for the day and a half before I die of thirst, starvation, or exposure because there is literally no civilization here. Wonderful. Fantastic.


    He pulled up his full stats for good measure, hoping to wait out the mana sickness and stamina regen timer.


    Mason Nevels:


    Magical Hopeful


    Health: 18/20 (1/hr) (Affected by Mana Sickness)


    Mana: 0/20 (0/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 0/20


    Stamina: 0/20 (1/min) (Affected by Mana Sickness)


    Strength: 2 (+3)


    Agility: 2 (+3)


    Intelligence: 2 (+3)


    Willpower: 1 (+4)


    Vitality: 1 (+4)


    Endurance: 2 (+3)


    Creativity: 3 (+4)


    Skills: Equip (5), Focus (3), Analyze (2), Mana Vampirism (2), Life Drain (1), Staff Specialization (2)


    Magical Hopeful? I guess that about sums it up. I¡¯d like to cast spells, but can¡¯t.


    Alright, so what¡¯s going on with my stats¡­ He wondered. He braced himself for another wave of pain, and then channeled Focus and Analyze.


    He saw red, and this time his brain felt like it was on fire. There was no question that he couldn¡¯t risk doing that again until he was rested up.


    But when he made it through the pain, he saw a new notification.


    Your human physiology is still adapting to this world. Focus Points have not been properly integrated into your physique. [Higher levels of Analyze will reveal more information about this process]


    ¡°Well¡­ that explains a lot. No wonder I can¡¯t use mana yet. Hopefully this process is quick,¡± he muttered, sitting up and leaning back against his tree.


    Mason waited it out, fighting every temptation to use analyze to reveal more information, and trying not to obsessively watch the counter on his mana sickness. Eventually it passed, and as his stamina ticked up ever-so-slowly, he felt a little strength return to him, and could even feel the myriad cuts and scratches on his body begin to hold together a little better.


    <hr>


    He stood up, lifting his staff at his side and trudging on. He tried to listen for the sounds of running water as he walked, and tried to be careful not to engage any more enemies, but as the daylight dimmed his options became increasingly sparse.


    His stamina was ticking up slowly, and was nearing its maximum value of 20, so when he finally made it to a section of woods that wasn¡¯t completely overgrown, he began running. Though he was still stiff, and still sore, he impressed himself with how light he felt. Casting a portion of his attention at his stamina, he saw that it was now draining at a rate of a point a minute.


    That means I can run for twenty minutes straight. Well, that¡¯s a noticeable improvement.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He ran for ten, covering enough distance to have almost zero idea of where he was in relation to where he started. That didn¡¯t matter though since he was more concerned about finding some place to shelter and resupply than staying put. He hadn¡¯t found anything of the sort, but he was lucky to not have been attacked either. His health had risen to 19, but his stamina was down to 10, and he really wasn¡¯t sure he could endure mana sickness twice in one day.


    Okay, I need to try something else, he thought, stopping suddenly and looking around at the dimly lit forest all around. With a deep breath, he channeled focus, and looked and listened as closely as he could to everything that was around him. The darkness somehow seemed lighter, and in the far off distance he heard the faintest sound of running water.


    He started walking in that direction, holding his focus for the additional low light vision it gave him, before his head nearly split in two from pain. He dropped focus and the pain went away, but when he checked his stamina it was completely empty.


    Focus levelled up (1) - Level 4


    Mixed blessings, I guess. It looks like focus drains my stamina fairly quickly. I really need to figure out how to make those focus points work for me.


    At the very least though, Mason had heard the water. He began picking his way there delicately in the darkness, using his staff to guide him and gauge for danger or uneven footing.


    He heard it better than he could see it. Not quite a rushing torrent of water, but he was safer for that. The water moved steadily in the distance, glinting marginally from the reflection of the moon over the water. His throat was dry and sore, so he didn¡¯t hesitate at all to move to the water for a drink, but before he crossed half the distance his foot caught on something and he fell.


    Utilizing focus to see better in the dark, he looked back at what had tripped him to see scraps of cloth around smooth, white¡­ ¡°Fucking hell it¡¯s a dead guy!¡± he shouted, scrambling away from the corpse. He stood up then, looking around as quickly as he could before focus wore off, and thankfully saw no more corpses. What he did see, was a rough smattering of damaged gear, and a collapsed tent.


    He almost cried from pleasure as he forgot his thirst, instead scrambling over to the tent and trying to assess the damage. Focus wore off, so he picked through the wreckage with his hands, hoping there would be no more skeletal surprises.


    To Mason¡¯s pleasure, the tent was largely intact, and it looked like whoever the corpse used to be, they had spent a decent length of time here. The ground beneath the tent was levelled out and padded with dry wild grasses, and along the tent were piles of dirt and stone that he could only assume were meant to prevent the stream from flooding in.


    He did his best to raise the tent back up to its full height, and though he failed fairly miserably, the final product was definitely something he could sleep in. Even better, he realized that if he could endure a rougher first night¡¯s sleep, he could use the wild grasses to start a small fire in the pit the non-survivor had dug out.


    As he worked, clearing out the campsite, scavenging the gear, and trying to find a way to start a fire, several indicators popped up in his status menu.


    You can now choose a new challenge. Choose Bloodlust or Wanderlust


    Though neither option was clear, he wasn¡¯t about to go wandering about after having just found a place to rest. He chose bloodlust, hoping that it would prepare him for the dangers to come.


    Bloodlust Challenge: Claim the lives of fifteen creatures. Bonuses will be awarded for utilizing your class skills.


    I¡¯ll have to research these challenges when I get my stamina charged back up. Maybe in the morning, I really need some rest. And I¡¯ll really need some food then too, this guy had nothing left.


    <hr>


    As light broke, Mason dragged himself off of his poorly covered floor and out of the tent, finally taking a good look at his surroundings. The stream was a little wider than he had suspected at night, but still not worth calling a river, but nonetheless it cut a path down the tree line as far as he could see, and made for as good a starting point for the day¡¯s exploration as he could ask for.


    His stomach rumbled angrily, he imagined as much from being empty as the stream water he had drank the night before. Food would have to be one of the first things he solved today.


    First, though, he wanted to finish taking stock of his campsite. He activated Focus and Analyze, scanning the area as his stamina drained almost completely in moments.


    There was a small, unadorned dagger that he had missed several feet away which he pocketed. He also noticed a small pile of cut wood, but no axe. There were some patched and faded bags filled with survival basics- flint and steel, stitching tools, and a small canteen- tucked into a crevice of the fortifications for the tent.


    And ultimately he knew he had to register the body. He allowed his analyze to take over, and thoughts came rushing into his mind quickly. The body had been dead for a long time- that was obvious by the lack of any flesh. But the bones were not what he expected a corpse to look like.


    The skull was broken, but shaped oddly enough that he had doubts it was human. Similarly, the bones, though anthropomorphic, didn¡¯t seem arranged the right way for a human, and faint lines of blue light crossed them in webs. He wouldn¡¯t have noticed the webs at all if not for his focus ability, and even then they almost looked like an illusion.


    You are are in the process of unlocking a special Focus ability. Raise your Focus level two more points to fully unlock.


    Well that might explain it. Maybe.


    He sat down and closed his eyes, trying to calm his mind and breathe while his stamina regenerated. Twenty stamina seemed like a lot when he was running, but it was almost a pittance when he considered that a minute or two of Focus could drain it entirely.


    A short rest later, he felt all of his stamina had returned, and he resisted the urge to immediately use Focus again. The more he did, the hungrier he got.


    Glancing at his status screen as he stood up, he noticed something new.


    You¡¯ve unlocked the skill Recovery.


    Recovery: While you rest, your health, mana, and stamina restore slightly faster. The effects of this ability improve through willpower, endurance, and vitality.


    Mason begrudgingly considered how much these abilities changed the basic mechanics of being alive. This world may not be an easy world so far, but it looks like suffering leads to pretty clear benefits. I can take advantage of this.


    Stamina full, Mason set his mind on food. He began walking away from the stream, and into the woods, dagger at his hip, packs on his back, and staff in his hand.


    Before he crossed under the treeline he shot a glance back at the corpse with the broken skull. It struck him again that not only did its existence mean there were alien humanoids to be wary of, but that there was something stronger than them out there lurking as well.

 ~ Four - Hunter-Gatherer

    Mason sat between a pile of small nuts and berries that he had scavenged from some bushes about a half an hour¡¯s walk from his campsite. He had found small quantities of edible-looking foods scattered fairly broadly, but this was the first area that seemed to have a wealth of food- something that would be critical for him in the long run.


    He took oneof the large nuts and cracked its shell against a tree, pulling the meat out of the shell and setting the two parts next to each other. He then shredded the meat and the shell into smaller pieces and piled those pieces up on the edge of the dagger he had found.


    One deep breath later, he was Focused, and with a forced blink he had activated Analyze.


    Tree Nut: Edible. Nutrients can be extracted by simmering in a soup for more efficient consumption.


    He repeated the process with the berries.


    Strange Berry: Slightly edible. High in nutrition, but with traces of poison. Do not consume in high quantities.


    He sighed, realizing he was likely stuck to eating nothing but these nuts for the next while. He gathered the berries nonetheless in a separate pouch, but resolved to only eat a few a day for variety.


    The likelihood that this forest was a veritable wealth of foodstuffs was high, but Mason had never had to rely on gathering before this to feed himself. In a few days, he assumed, he¡¯d have analyzed enough leaves, roots, twigs, or bugs that he¡¯d be able to make some sort of nutritional meals, but for now he was trying to play it safe. The last thing he needed was to be poisoned to death.


    Along those lines, the mushrooms he had found while exploring were kept specially wrapped in some scrap cloth he had found in the satchels. Mushrooms were almost always dangerous.


    After munching down a handful of nuts, Mason finally stood up and strapped on his bags, deciding that tracking a path back to his campsite would be better than exploring any further before he was more familiar with the area. As he turned to head back though, a flash of motion caught his eye.


    He fell to the ground out of fear, and when he landed on his butt he saw another flash right in front of him.Where did these quick reactions come from?Mason wondered as he scrambled to his feet and took off at a dead sprint.


    There were footsteps just behind him, the pounding and padding of something much larger than the imp-squirrels.


    He dared a look backwards, and balked when he saw a large cat chasing after him.


    It was only a little larger than a housecat, but with a fair amount of girth to it, which he assumed explained the reason he hadn¡¯t been chased down already. It must eat the imp-squirrels, he guessed.


    But there was no way Mason could run faster than it for long, especially not after analyzing his way through his stamina. He let the bags fall from his shoulders to lighten his load, then swung his staff wide around, catching the feline in its midsection while it lunged.


    His strike only knocked it a little off balance, so it still collided with him, knocking the wind from his chest but thankfully causing no other wounds.


    The cat skulked away a few steps and turned, prowling back and forth, waiting for a sign of weakness. It must have missed the look of consternation on Mason¡¯s face. As his staff made contact, Mana Vampirism had activated instantly, and this time he could feel the power as it surged into his staff.


    Focus activated on its own, or perhaps out of instinct, and Mason tried to fight the mana from flowing into his body. For a second it worked, but then ultimately his stamina ran out, and pain flooded his system.


    Now he definitely couldn¡¯t run, and the mana sickness would sink in soon enough to drain his body of what little strength he had gained from those nuts. He bared his teeth and brandished his staff even as the cat continued to pace.


    ¡°Come here you little fuck, I think you¡¯re dinner,¡± he growled, making slow slashing movements with the staff. When the cat made no move back, he took a step forward and swept at its legs.


    The cat didn¡¯t even have to dodge. It lunged instead, and Mason had to drop back to offset its attack, then shove with his staff to knock the cat off of him before its claws could do more damage than its initial few scratches.


    Before it could get up, he swept out with his staff again, but this time he forced it to release its mana, activating the Life Drain ability he had used on the imps.


    As the mana left his body, the fatigue hit immediately, but the energy that returned to him from the life-drain gave him a little strength. Mason dropped the staff and pulled the knife, watching the cat¡¯s movements slow. Either this cat was weaker than he thought, or that staff had some serious power to it.


    There was luck to that, because Mason knew he didn¡¯t have the strength within himself to survive. Not yet. But he had the will to fight, nonetheless. He dived at the cat with the knife, and it tore at his face, chest, forearms and anything else it could reach while he struggled awkwardly to get the knife close.


    In a spurt of blood, Mason lodged the knife in the cat¡¯s neck and he pulled the two apart, standing, panting, watching the blood fall from the objects in both his hands.


    The gravity of the moment sank in much deeper than it had when he had fought off the rodents the night before.


    He cleaned the blade of his knife to prevent it from rusting further, but ignored the rest of the gore. With the cat in one hand, his staff in another, and bags on his back, he made his way back to the camp.


    Bloodlust: 1/15


    <hr>


    Starving to death had been put off, and despite the stress of being in an unknown world with strange rules, that simple fact let Mason relax. He had stripped and washed himself when he made it back to camp, using a rounded rock as a shallow basin for dirty water.


    Ripping apart the meat from the cat had been a nightmare of a job, his rusty knife barely suited for stabbing, and not at all optimal for shredding. Somehow though, he had gotten a few strips of meat speared and roasting over the fire.


    He flipped back into his status screen to check the notifications from the fight.


    Skills: Equip (5), Focus (5), Analyze (2), Mana Vampirism (2), Life Drain (2), Staff Specialization (3), Recovery (1), Dagger Specialization (1)


    He had a new skill for his ¡®dagger,¡¯ and had gained a point in focus and Life Drain from the fight.


    Most notably, there was another notification for Focus that he felt sure had appeared after using Mana Vampirism.


    You are in the process of unlocking two special Focus abilities. Level up Focus one more time to unlock the first.


    He was curious about what that meant, but in the meantime, with his belly full, he sat quietly again hoping to activate Recovery. Thoughts flitted through his mind- he needed an axe, and a pot for the fire- but he felt his body calming, and the mana sickness slowly passing. If that fight had gone on any longer, he was certain he would have been crawling back to camp, not limping slowly.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    An hour later he woke up from his sitting nap. He was tired, in a deep, bone-aching way, but his stamina was back, so he could continue trying to make sense of what was going on around him.


    He looked at his stat screen and was curious to see what would happen if he analyzed his stat screen further.


    With a deep breath, he Focused and Analyzed his stat page.


    A new page showed up, organized much more nicely.


    Active Skills:Focus (5), Analyze (2), Mana Vampirism (2), Life Drain (2), Recovery (1)


    Passive Skills:Equip (5), Staff Specialization (3), Dagger Specialization (1)


    Right, that seems straightforward enough. Mason then looked to see that his stamina had dropped 4 points from his use of Analyze, but its skill had since gone up to three. Since his bar was still full, he decided to take advantage of the opportunity and used it again on his stat screen.


    Strength: Produce Sheer Physical Force


    Agility: Control the Speed and Accuracy of Motion


    Intelligence: Learn, Retain, and Utilize Knowledge and Spells


    Willpower: Resist Discouragement and Empower Spells and Actions


    Endurance: Push Further Under Heavy Loads and Strenuous Activity


    Vitality: Prevent and Endure Physical Harm


    Creativity: Generate Solutions and Ideas


    The descriptions of the stats weren¡¯t extremely surprising, but they were enough for Mason to get a grasp of what was at hand. Looking at his full spread again, he saw that a few of his stats had actually increased, closer to what the bonuses should have added up to.


    Health: 16/25 (1/hr)


    Mana: 0/20 (0/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 0/20


    Stamina: 12/25 (1.1/min)


    Strength:2 (+3)


    Agility:2 (+3)


    Intelligence:2 (+5)


    Willpower:1 (+4)


    Vitality:3 (+2)


    Endurance:2 (+3)


    Creativity:3 (+4)


    These numbers still seemed low, but any advantage over the basic human stat set seemed valuable. Hopefully it would only take a few days to get those full stat advantages, and then he would have to find a way to increase them further¡­


    On a whim, he cast Analyze again on these reduced stats. His focus went up a level, and a notification flashed, but he read the results of the Analyze first.


    Stats are temporarily reduced to prevent overloading your body. Each stat will raise to its full value slowly over time (Estimated: Six Months, Five Days) but will speed up significantly with the presence of mana and the usage of skills related to those attributes. Focus Points represent the benefits earned in The Trials.


    So something here is trying to strengthen me. Well, that¡¯s not the worst thing that could happen when trapped in an unknown world. But six months is too long, I have to speed that up.


    Focus has levelled up high enough to unlock a Focus Ability. Perform a triggering action to unlock.


    It was irritating that he had to distinguish between both Focus Points, and a Focus Skill, but he presumed that the two might be related. Furthermore, Mason didn¡¯t know what a triggering action was, but he could remember what had caused the special ability to trigger in the first place. He went over toward the tree-line to where he had left the remains, and willing himself against his disgust, he picked up on of the bones again.


    Staring closely at it and taking a breath, he activated Focus and Analyze once more, bringing his stamina down to uncomfortably low levels.


    Nothing happened at first- so he held the skills active until his stamina was drained. He felt something like a switch inside of him, and looking over his status screen to figure out what happened, he saw that his endurance had risen a point, and his stamina maximum had also risen. There were four points remaining in his stamina bar even after he had drained it with his last effort.


    So he gave it a shot, casting Analyze and Focus once again. A burst of blue light filled his vision as something changed in his eyes, and then for a brief moment while his stamina drained, he could see fine blue lines throughout the bone much more clearly than after his previous attempts.


    Congratulations! Focus has unlocked the hidden ability, Mana Sight.


    Mana Sight (Focus): Improve your ability to see the magical nature of objects and creatures in this world. This is the first step to unlocking your race¡¯s hidden talents and uncovering the true strength necessary to survive.


    As focus wore off, the blue spiderwebbed lines faded from the bones, but he could picture them in his memory.


    So whoever this was had mana all the way in his bones. I can¡¯t imagine how painful that must have been for him. Or maybe I¡¯m just being an idiot, maybe it¡¯s only humans who can¡¯t really use it?


    I think what I learned about skills though is the most important. Using a skill, and forcing it to a breaking point, makes it stronger. But using it in a more interesting way changes it somehow. I¡¯m going to have to do a lot of experimentation, I think.


    The day was only halfway over, but Mason was forced to use recovery again to bring back his stamina. He received an extra point in it, and felt his relaxation deepen slightly, and best yet, by the time his stamina was back, he¡¯d received three health back- a considerable improvement for the passing of only ten minutes or so.


    Deciding between exploring further and improving his campgrounds, he decided that making sure he could survive here took precedence. Using his rusty dagger, Mason began to cut down all of the tall grasses and bushes nearby, piling the softer grasses in his tent, and the jagged, brambly bushes just under the tree-line.


    As he moved between locations, he tried to bounce and jog, moving as much as possible in hopes of strengthening his body. He gathered all the sticks and twigs he could and formed bundles and piles of those for heavier bits of firewood, then finally he started collecting light-colored stones, forming a wide ring around his campsite that he hoped would give him some distance and vision measurements even when it got dark.


    They were small improvements, mostly improving his ability to see anything coming toward him, as well as making the campsite feel more officially cared for, but they helped. His stamina was still nearly full after all of it as well, and he was pleased with the discovery that small chores did little to drain it. However, his rush to accomplish everything quickly had unlocked one of his agility points as well. Either way, since he didn¡¯t plan to go hunting, he had some stamina to play with.


    He sat on the edge of his firepit and stared at his rusty knife, taking a breath to activate his skills.


    Rusty Dagger (1): This dagger has no special effects, but is easy to use for unskilled persons. If restored, it could see minor damage improvements.


    That analyze had only cost him three stamina, and Mason assumed this must be because it didn¡¯t really require much insight to discover.


    So he held his staff out, and triggered his skills again. Twelve stamina vanished instantly from his bar, but he could see the blue light running up and down the staff, pooling in the large gem at the top. Mana Sight must have activated on its own in the presence of so much.


    Staff of Mardun (??): This magical staff is a legendary weapon from the temple of (???). You¡¯ve identified two of its abilities so far, with at least two more remaining to be discovered. The Staff of Mardun has powerful abilities to steal energies from the world around it, and imbues its owner with a portion of that strength, if they can wield it.


    Without the challenge bonus he had received when he had accidentally discovered this item- the ability to equip it unconditionally- Mason didn¡¯t believe there was a chance he could wield it. He considered his recent fights, and decided he wasn¡¯t sure if he honestly could wield it anyways.


    Mason noticed that one of his intelligence Focus Points had shifted into his actual stats from that last usage, a benefit that he was eager to rely on. He turned to his makeshift tent and used up the rest of the stamina bar with Analyze.


    Feeling almost dumb, he realized he had missed several easy improvements to its design, and immediately set to work restructuring the tent, supplementing broken or inefficient pieces with some of the tree limbs he had collected.


    With a few hours to spare before the sun went down, Mason decided to run laps around his territory, draining his stamina slowly and then letting it refill. It was slow progress, but he saw an additional point on his stamina bar.


    Exhausted from his exercise, and marvelling at the improvements he had managed to make earlier, he slid into the tent and appreciated the extra space, and the additional comfort of the makeshift grass padding he had made for himself.


    The baby-steps he had taken in the past day or two were small, but he was grateful for the luck he had. This staff might be just enough to keep him alive, if it didn¡¯t destroy him in the process. This campsite had just enough supplies for him to manage to survive, and he was growing stronger, even if slowly.


    Tomorrow, though, he knew he¡¯d be back to hunting for food.

 ~ Five - Practice

    He looked himself over before he set out. His clothing was bloodstained and ratty- a shredded cotton t-shirt under a similarly worn out and equally thin hoodie. His cotton-blend jeans weren¡¯t holding up much better and somehow he had already worn the soles of his shoes down considerably.


    Didn¡¯t RPG heroes always have special gear that never got damaged? He would need to pick that up at the nearest adventurer¡¯s guild.


    He started his trek while still contemplating his predicament. The only signs of civilization he had found so far was the writing where the town should have been, and then this campsite. Mason wondered for a moment whether the corpse may have been the one to leave the message, but that couldn¡¯t be. He had watched the letters fade before his eyes, so it had to have been done recently.


    That meant there were at least two groups of people worth trying to find: Whoever left that message, and whoever the corpse at the campsite came from.


    And there was one more mystery worth looking into, he realized. Why had he appeared in that temple in the first place? Where was that, and could there be more valuable items there if he could find it again?


    He shook the thought from his head. A cat or two would be enough to cut his health in half, especially if he was unwilling to use his staff. Whatever would be defending a temple could probably rip him into pieces.


    If I¡¯m going to get stronger, I need a way to control where these enemies move. I need to bring them to me so I can fight them safely. If I could capture some of those squirrel-imps, I could probably use them to lure the cats in closer.


    It took twenty minutes before a cat appeared though, and there was no sign of any squirrel-imps. This time, however, Mason had the advantage of having seen the cat first. He froze up, deciding quickly between his staff and his dagger, and decided that since the day was still early and he didn¡¯t want mana sickness, that he would try to win with just the dagger for now.


    He crept up slowly, closing the distance to a handful of yards, and only a few steps before he was ready to lunge did the cat notice him.


    You¡¯ve unlocked the skill: Sneak.


    Sneak: Move slowly, step quietly, become one with the shadows. Improves your ability to remain undetected around enemies.


    He swore as the cat immediately turned and lunged at him, and slashed wildly with his dagger in the process. He landed a blow but it wasn¡¯t clean enough to cause much damage, though the same wasn¡¯t true for the cat¡¯s claws.


    He turned quickly and threw the cat off, but it was up and moving without any hesitation. He pulled up Focus, and even cast an Analyze for information¡¯s sake. He saw Feral Cat: Level 3? above its head, and a vague indicator bar that seemed to show the cat at just a smidge below full health.


    With Focus still active he was able to track the cat¡¯s motions, and when it lunged he had his knife at the ready. Its own momentum sent the knife an inch deep into the front of its shoulder, and it yowled and pushed off Mason to retreat again, limping now.


    It snarled at Mason as it moved around him, and yowled loudly all the while. In the distance, a matching sound seemed to indicate danger. Mason lunged at the cat, missing, but receiving several scratches as punishment. He swept his blade again toward the beast, and managed a small cut not far from where he had stabbed earlier.


    ¡°Fucking kitty, come here!¡± he shouted as he dived again.


    Instead of receiving an attack back, the cat dived away and another cat appeared, jumping on Mason¡¯s back and digging in with tooth and claw. He responded with a noise very much like what the cat had made when injured, and hastily ripped the cat off his back, feeling more skin than he was comfortable with losing get removed in the process.


    He slid his knife back into a belt loop and pulled up his staff, realizing quickly that if he didn¡¯t end this fight soon, he was going to suffer some serious injuries. His first swing connected easily with the bloody cat, and he grimaced as the mana coursed into his body. It didn¡¯t hurt any less than before, but rather than fighting it, he focused on it, immediately urging the staff to retaliate.


    Black wisps were loosed from the end of the staff as he smashed it down on the body of the bloody cat, and he could see it dry and wither somewhat from the blow. Satisfied that he had won that fight, he turned to the other cat, and charged it quickly.


    They traded blows for several rounds, but it was another combo- Mana Vampirism then Life Absorption, that ended the fight.


    This time, he really was going to have to crawl back to camp. He dragged both bodies toward him and laid down roughly, hoping not to get too much dirt in his wounds.


    His HP was down to a quarter, his stamina was empty, and Mana Sickness was preventing him from activating recovery. At least he had gained a point in Mana Vampirism and Dagger specialization. Plus enough meat to get him through another day or two.


    3/15.


    He rested there for an hour, enough time for his agony to dull to a subtle suffering, before limping back to his campsite. He gathered some stray nuts and berries on his way back, but hardly enough to supplement his collection.


    None of his stamina had returned yet by the time he got back to camp. His health was still dismal. All he could imagine was that he would get attacked while in this state and be completely ruined.


    What are these stat gains worth if a level three wild cat can ruin me after a single fight? I wish I had taken some martial arts back home, maybe then I could actually do something useful here.


    It was the first time Mason permitted himself to think about where he had come from since he had gotten there. His memories had blurred and become vague after the assessment, not like he had amnesia, but more like they had just become irrelevant. It wasn¡¯t too much different than trying to remember middle school, he figured. You wouldn¡¯t think much of it at all unless it came up, and then you just had to focus to pull up details and snapshots.


    He remembered kissing his girlfriend in her apartment during a movie, playing video games with his friends, and admittedly, often by himself. Driving to the beach for a change of scenery. Though the memories were pleasant, his mind resisted lingering on these things, and the dull sense of loss he knew he should feel was smothered by his urgent need to pay attention to his current reality.


    What does it matter what I used to do somewhere else? I¡¯m here, and I almost became cat food. I need to get stronger, not nostalgic.


    Then a thought occurred to him. He really didn¡¯t even know his own level. Risking the backlash of using a stamina skill while his bar was empty, he channeled Analyze on the thought of his own level.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Mason Nevels:


    Magical Hopeful


    Health: 16/25 (1/hr)


    Mana: 0/20 (0/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 0/20


    Stamina: 12/26 (1.1/min)


    Strength:  2 (+3)


    Agility:  2 (+3)


    Intelligence:  3 (+4)


    Willpower:  2 (+3)


    Vitality:  2 (+3)


    Endurance:  4 (+3)


    Creativity:  3 (+4)


    Great, I have no level, he complained, though he noticed his endurance had risen slightly. His vitality was still painfully low though, which he assumed had a lot to do with why he had gotten so injured, and possibly even why he couldn¡¯t handle mana without extreme agony.


    You¡¯ve initialized your level! Congratulations, the Trials reward those who seek to understand their strength and increase it.


    Calculating level based on Race Standards...


    You have completed seven challenges, and have earned 25 Focus Points. According to your Race, you are level three.


    Mason didn¡¯t hesitate, he confirmed this immediately.


    Completed Hidden Challenge: Personal Assessment! You are awarded three Focus Points to spend how you would like.


    The decision was made harder by the fact that he didn¡¯t know truly how these focus points affected him, but he decided to spread them out to help with his immediate problems. He placed a point into strength, willpower, and vitality.


    He¡¯d hit harder, focus better, and hopefully bleed a little less.


    Though the prompt had said he¡¯d seen the gains as Focus Points, he felt a change within him immediately. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself to be grateful for baby-steps. Then he noticed that his health, mana, and stamina had all seen improvements as well.


    Mason Nevels:


    Magical Hopeful


    Level 3 (28FP)


    Health: 16/29 (1.2/hr)


    Mana: 0/20 (0/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 0/20


    Stamina: 12/28 (1.2/min)


    Strength:  2 (+4)


    Agility:  2 (+3)


    Intelligence:  3 (+4)


    Willpower:  3 (+3)


    Vitality:  3 (+3)


    Endurance:  4 (+3)


    Creativity:  3 (+4)


    He would survive. He had to. But in order to do that, he had a feeling that he¡¯d not be able to escape enduring some more pain.


    <hr>


    The bone rested six inches in front of where Mason sat cross-legged beyond his firepit. A strange mixture of trepidation and excitement filled him as he began his experiments. With the two cats he had killed that morning, he had enough food to last him a fair amount of time, although it was hardly a taste he could imagine getting used to. This meant he had an opportunity to experiment with both his focus skills, as well as his Mana Sickness.


    He started by activating Mana Sight, and with his stamina bar full, he was pleased to see that he could make out more details of how the mana striated the bones. Seeing was believing, and this was all the evidence he needed that there was once a being that had mana at its very core.


    To be fair, he couldn¡¯t guarantee that wasn¡¯t what ultimately killed it. But the risk was worth taking.


    With his stamina down by half, he now pulled his staff from his side. This was going to be the real test. He pressed the jewel of the staff and the bone against each other, and immediately watched the blue light fade from the bone, feeling it move into the staff and toward his arm.


    He dropped his Mana Sight, and instead channeled Focus as hard as he could, trying to fight the mana¡¯s onslaught, to control it, or contain it, or anything.


    His efforts were to no avail, but the torrent of pain rushed through his body, and he knew this was worse even than when he fought the cats.


    Mana (Mardun): 7/20 he saw, even as his vision darkened. His last motion before he passed out was to try and cast the mana from the staff using Life Drain.


    <hr>


    When Mason woke up, his mana sickness had already faded, and his stamina had regenerated. His intelligence and endurance had both improved a level closer to their potential, and for that he was grateful. He could hear the stream running nearby, and the sounds of insects buzzing and skittering about near the tree line, but beyond that it was pale starlight until he activated Focus for its bonus to low-light vision.


    Seven mana was all it took to knock him entirely unconscious. He had played games where a basic mana bolt cost forty. Maybe mana was just that powerful in this world, but he figured it was equally likely that he was just that weak. His human body couldn¡¯t handle such a powerful, foreign force.


    Though it was late, he had already gotten a lot of rest, and he couldn¡¯t really think of a better plan than to try another experiment.


    The bone he was testing on a moment earlier had turned to dust, so he retrieved another, smaller bone to test with. Rather than picking up his staff, this time he simply concentrated on the idea and feeling of Mana Vampirism, holding the bone directly in his hands. He could have sworn he saw a glint of light in his staff to the side, but the mana passed straight through his skin this time.


    The pain wasn¡¯t nearly as intense this time, so he had the presence of mind to check his status.


    Mana: 1/20


    It was a much more reasonable amount to test with, but as it lingered in his body for several seconds, the pain increased until it wasn¡¯t noticeably any different than when he had consumed more. His breathing quickened, and he tried desperately to cast life drain to release the magic, but for some reason he couldn¡¯t.


    He let out a stream of curse words dozens of syllables long, shaking his hands, jumping back and forth, trying anything to assuage the pain or release the mana.


    His jaw clenched tightly as the pain increased in his skull, and finally with a spark of insight, he reached down to his staff and pushed with everything he had.


    He saw his mana drop to 0, and passed out again from relief.


    <hr>


    When Mason woke up, the first thing he did was sit up and rub his head, having landed heavily when he passed out. The second thing he did, an instinct almost, was reach out to his staff. The moment his skin made contact with it, he felt that single point of mana transfer back into his body.


    He screamed as the pain returned, as bad as it had ever been, but then swung the staff and cast life drain, releasing a pathetic black puff into the air.


    ¡°Can I not win? Seriously? How am I supposed to get stronger if I can¡¯t tame even a single point of mana?¡± he shouted to the air.


    He looked at the bone he had been holding on, and then switched to Mana Sight to see that it had only dulled a small amount. Whoever had died here had more mana in one of the small bones of his body than he could survive for a few minutes.


    Taking his mind from it, he cracked open a few of the nuts he had gathered and began nibbling at them, and then moved to make a fire to put off the chill that was coming through the area. Once it was lit, and he had thanked the cache of supplies he had found here, he glanced at his status again. He almost missed it at first, but he noticed something odd.


    Mana: 0/20 (0.0/hr)


    Why did his mana regen rate have a decimal point? Unless it had improved by an almost inconsequentially small figure, he guessed. It was¡­ interesting, if not the least bit promising. If he was producing mana, in even the tiniest amount, it could be enough to begin conditioning his body.


    Mana Vampirism and Recovery had both risen a level, and so had his vitality. With his vitality, he had gained another four points of health. He bit back a smile. He wasn¡¯t going to be raising or razing the heavens anytime soon, but he would be casting magic, and learning to take a hit.


    The entire next day was spent alternating between a few training techniques. First, he drilled motions with his staff and dagger so that he could move more comfortably holding them. Then, he¡¯d switch on Focus, Analyze, and Mana Sight to inspect the nearby foliage; including leaves, roots, and flowers. He¡¯d use Recovery to regain his stamina quickly then go sprinting laps around his campsite, further trampling a radius for him to defend.


    Then when he had seen some improvement with each of those abilities, he would use Mana Vampirism on the bone to test out a single point of mana on his body, and eventually cast life drain to rid himself of it.


    He gained a point in Focus, Analyze, Recovery, and Staff Specialization, and two points in Dagger Specialization.


    What he was most proud of though, was the oddity.


    You¡¯ve discovered the Focus skill Mana Manipulation. You¡¯ve unlocked the skill category Mana Arts. You do not receive a skill level in Mana Manipulation.

 ~ Six - Mana Mine

    Days passed in a low-level grind of training, hunting, and agony. Mason was careful to keep his food supplies stocked, especially before undergoing a particularly heavy bout of mana sickness, but the already bland food had become increasingly distasteful. Soon, he knew, he would have to use his newfound strength and strike out. He couldn¡¯t stay here forever, eating raw nuts, poisonous berries, roots, flowers, and tough, stringy, flavorless meat.


    He looked at his status screen from habit, and saw considerable rises on each of the characteristics, growing to the point where he had survived an ambush from two cats and managed to take on their prey of imp-squirrels immediately after.


    Mason Nevels:


    Magical Hopeful


    Level 3 (28FP)


    Health: 16/38 (1.5/hr)


    Mana: 0/20 (0.1/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 0/20


    Stamina: 12/34 (1.8/min)


    Strength:  3 (+3)


    Agility:  3 (+2)


    Intelligence:  3 (+4)


    Willpower:  4 (+2)


    Vitality:  5 (+1)


    Endurance:  5 (+2)


    Creativity:  3 (+4)


    Active Skills: Focus (9), Mana Vampirism (6), Analyze (5), Life Drain (5), Recovery (6), Sneak (5)


    Passive Skills: Equip (5), Staff Specialization (7), Dagger Specialization (7)


    Mana Arts: Mana Sight (4), Mana Manipulation (1)


    Frequent use of Analyze on both his opponents and his own stats had revealed the truth. These stats told a greater story about his own improvements over himself rather than providing a clear comparison to other creatures. He was growing stronger, and quickly, owed both to the strenuous activities of combat and mana wielding, as well as the influence of the Focus Points. But how would he know how he really ranked when he was comparing himself to squirrels and cats?


    Mason had considered disabling the status screen altogether, to focus on the sheer development of his strength by hand, but for now it served a purpose. He could see where he needed to improve, and keep track of his advancements.


    What was important was that he could now fight several of the cats at once. That mana sickness lasted for a few dozen minutes, instead of hours, and only debuffed his stamina rather than draining it dry.


    The single point in mana manipulation, and the tenth of a point of mana regeneration- those were what he was most proud of.


    The skeleton he had been draining had almost entirely turned to dust. He held off on absorbing its pelvis, its sternum, and its skull- all pieces his Mana Sight told him were heavy in mana. He could hold mana for a time now, even cast life drain several times without collapsing, but it still burned to keep it inside, and he was barely able to release the mana into the air, let alone control it.


    He sat in front of his campsite at daybreak, Focus and Analyze both turned inwards, and waited to feel that single bit of mana start to form within him. It started slowly, a warmth just behind his navel, and he could almost see it forming within him, swirling and rolling, trying to find a sort of synergy with his body.


    This small amount of mana didn¡¯t hurt him horribly, not at first. If he left it there to grow, the warmth would turn into a burn. The day before he had managed to hold half a point of his own mana before having to turn it loose to prevent the pain from crippling him. That had been five hours spent with mana in his system, and for that he felt accomplished.


    He had gotten the impression that his natural mana hurt him less than the Mardun mana, which was a comfort. Optimistically, Mason assumed he would be able to hold onto a healthy store of it within the next several days, and could only hope that from that point on he would be able to train up mana manipulation and some actual spellcasting.


    Today though, he was ready for something new. The cats and squirrel-imps weren¡¯t enough of a challenge. The hardest part of fighting the cats was that they were fast, but they lacked any sort of tactics, they didn¡¯t do a whole lot of damage unless they were over-sized, and they died fairly easily. He had guessed from his Analyze that they had less than ten health.


    With the remaining bones secured in his packs, and a healthy store of food and water as well, he set off upstream from the river, to a strange location he had noticed days earlier.


    He had been hunting cats further away than before, having hunted their numbers down a fair bit in the preceding days, when he had seen a strange clearing with a large, smooth stone, and signs of digging all over. There were tracks leading further away, too, and it was these he now hoped to follow. It was possible he would be setting himself up for unnecessary danger, but his progress was stagnating where he was, and some risks were meant to be taken.


    Once he arrived at the clearing, he flashed into Focus mode and took account of the area. The digging had definitely continued since he had last been here, but it didn¡¯t look like anyone had been there that day. Flipping on his mana vision, he gave the area another glance.


    The clearing was loaded with mana, to the point that he was surprised he hadn¡¯t noticed it before. Looking at his stats screen, he saw that his mana regeneration was up to .14 a minute. No wonder someone was digging here, he thought. This was a place of power.


    He squatted down at a particularly strong point of mana and shifted his hands through the soil. Tiny crystals, not unlike quartz, glimmered there beneath him. They were no larger than grains of sand mixed in with the soil, but as an experiment he rubbed the whole mixture against the gem of his staff.


    He grit his teeth as he absorbed a point of mana, and let the dirt fall to the ground. He took several deep breaths, then released the mana gently from the pores of his body. There was a good chance that he¡¯d pay for the mana sickness he had just risked, and he could see his stamina dropping slowly.


    Mason moved to sit in the middle of the wide stone platform in the center of the clearing, crossing his legs and breathing to activate Recovery. His senses were sharper now than they had ever been, and with Focus active he felt confident that if anything approached, he¡¯d hear it before it entered the clearing.


    His confidence, however, was vastly misplaced. His mana sickness had just worn off when he heard a shifting a few feet from him. His eyes flashed open rapidly and his hand squeezed tightly to his staff in his left hand, while his other hand darted to his knife.


    Mason saw tall, living shadows all around him. He shifted to Mana Vision almost instantly, but the result nearly blinded him, even as he noticed his system indicating it had levelled up again.


    When he dropped mana sight, and looked closely with Focus instead, he realized these were not shadows, but three of the darkest people he had ever seen. They were slightly taller and better built than most humans he had seen, even the young looking one and the feminine looking one. But as he looked up at them, his attention was captured by the rich violet color of each of their eyes.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    He was afraid to move, but so too were these strange, oil-black people. They blinked and it was merely the shift from that purple to the black of their eyelids.


    Suddenly, then, Mason felt a wave of fire through his body as these beings stared on, and he felt oddly stupid for not running immediately. He had seen so much mana inside of these beings, and now they were casting a spell on him, and his feeble body was going to die.


    <hr>


    Mason was alive, but the total agony of every cell in his body rejecting mana at once left him considering whether that was a good thing or not.


    Twenty-five points of mana were coursing through his body, and he felt hot tears on his face as he screamed. ¡°Stop, please. Oh God, please stop. Stop. I can¡¯t handle it. STOP!¡± he shouted over and over again, each word feeling simultaneously difficult to form but also a great release.


    He could hear movement around him, but could hardly focus enough to see what was happening, and undoubtedly couldn¡¯t Focus with how low his stamina was. So instead he cried and screamed and suffered for what felt like ages.


    And then finally the world cooled down, the pain turned from a raging inferno to a dull throb, and he fell back asleep.


    When he woke this time, he felt more drained than he ever had, and his Mana Sickness had another hour and a half on the timer. His stamina was 0, unsurprisingly, and his health was down to ten.


    A shadow, no, a dark person stood above him, waiting patiently. It showed no sign that it could tell he was awake.


    Mason¡¯s mind flittered between how to respond. Should he scream indignantly about the attack? Act contrite and beg for mercy? Even if he felt connected to his past life and his old personality- what was there in his memories that could tell him how to respond in such a moment? As he pondered wearily, the shadow walked away and began to fiddle with what looked like a fireplace and a pot.


    A kitchen.


    The thought of food drove all uncertainty from his mind. His stomach gurgled audibly and the shadow turned to him then, looking hesitant underneath its dark cloak.


    ¡°Please,¡± Mason begged, ¡°Food. I¡¯m so hungry.¡±


    The figure gasped, and the familiar action gave Mason a strange sense of comfort. At least this wasn¡¯t a monster. Then it spoke, in a voice somehow both gravelly and feminine, and while it was using words Mason could understand as English, he instinctively knew it was not speaking English. ¡°You- you¡¯re awake? Are you well?¡±


    The question did nothing for Mason¡¯s comprehension, and he didn¡¯t expect that this figure would sound so concerned. ¡°I¡¯m alive, but please, I¡¯m extremely hungry. My body feels like I had lava poured through it. That spell you or your people cast on me was the most agonizing thing I¡¯ve ever experienced.¡±


    The shadow responded by immediately scooping a ladle of soup into a wooden bowl, and holding it at Mason¡¯s side. As Mason sat up, the shadow responded, ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean. They cast no spell, they were merely trying to see you. You are invisible to us, and when we cast our vision across you, you scream.


    ¡°I thought you were wounded, but when I tried to heal you, your screams only grew louder. You screamed when I tried to understand what was happening to you as well. My son thought you were a demon, sent to terrorize or blind us, and claimed we should kill you. But we have never seen one of your kind before, and I insisted we not start a war if another race had been brought to this plane.¡±


    Mason wasn¡¯t sure what to make of this, but he eyed the concoction of soup in front of him hungrily. He wasn¡¯t sure why she was still holding it, until he considered what she had said. She couldn¡¯t see him.


    Mason reached out and put a hand under the bowl, using his other hand to touch the shadow¡¯s hand gently. She released the bowl with a start, then dipped her head as if embarrassed by her action.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you see me?¡± Mason asked quietly, before putting his hand over the soup to test how warm it was.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re mana-less like a stone. And you scream when we try to use Mana Sight on you. We really didn¡¯t mean any harm, we just¡­ we saw the bones, we saw the staff, but you were just a pinprick of light. We had never seen someone with such control over their mana, to keep it so small and hidden.¡±


    ¡°So you tried to cast a wave of mana at me to get an idea of what I was, and I absorbed it like a sponge because that¡¯s what I do now.¡± Mason turned on Mana Sight for a brief second, recoiling from the overextension of his empty stamina, and again was blinded looking at the shadow, but when he looked down at his soup, he saw that it was barely glowing at all. He could eat this, and the pain would probably be worth the nutrition.


    He gobbled it down and saw the shadow turn from him. ¡°I can¡­ see the soup moving within you. It¡¯s disconcerting.¡±


    Mason looked up at this, ¡°Oh yeah? You can see the mana in the soup, but not flowing through my body. That would be pretty weird,¡± He considered what she must be seeing, even as he took another bite. ¡°Wait, have you never seen anything without mana in it before?¡±


    ¡°There have been some creatures in this plane that we had to cast Mana upon to see, but where we¡¯re from, life cannot exist without it. We draw our strength from the land, which generates mana readily. This land is¡­ sparse. We are forced to mine mana from deep down in order to feed.¡±


    Mason felt the mana sitting hot in his stomach, and channeled Mana Vampirism to pull it through his body. It tingled, but stung less than he was used to, even though it was worth a full point of mana.


    ¡°Can you see me now?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Yes, you are¡­ dim,¡± She said quietly, looking as uncomfortable as he felt.


    They stared at one another for a moment, and then the door to the small cabin was slammed open, rattling some charms that were hung above the doorway.


    ¡°The little mana-less beast is awake, and yet he doesn¡¯t scream? Why can I see it, Shaywise? Did your healing finally work?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± my friendly shadow spoke to the angrier voice in the doorway. ¡°I left him alone, and he recovered. He is not like us. He does not like mana.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t like mana?¡± The angry shadow shot a stern look his way, and Mason could feel the disdain rolling off him even through his hood. ¡°He must be a demon. The undead have no place here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that for me, but I¡¯m learning to use mana! I¡¯m not a demon. I¡¯m human. We feed on the sun! Well¡­ we eat plants, and they feed on the sun,¡± Mason protested, having set down the bowl and standing unsteadily. He was forced to lean back against the table he had woken up on for balance.


    Both of the shadows stared at him with a revolution of expressions as they tried to make sense of it. Then the bigger, angrier shadow sat down against the door and put a hand to his head. He looked surprisingly innocent like that, and Mason put out of his mind any thought of getting revenge for the torment he had endured earlier.


    Nobody knew what was going on here, not really.


    ¡°We will not kill you, demon. It was not my son¡¯s intent to cause you harm at all. You are welcome under our roof until you recover. Consider this as our apology.¡± The shadow¡¯s face screwed up, ¡°Unless you sunborn live under the sky? We do not like the energy of the sun. It burns our skin and weakens us.¡±


    Mason laughed, ¡°No, no. Too much sun hurts me as well. And most mana hurts me, too. I guess I¡¯m just a bit fragile.¡± When the man didn¡¯t respond, he added, ¡°I appreciate your letting me in your home. My name is Mason. I take it the lovely Shaywise is your wife?¡±


    The man looked up now, and moved slowly toward Mason, inspecting him. ¡°Yes, she is my¡­ wife, as I understand the word. She shares my mana, and we can focus spells as one. I am Treyjol, Demon. Our son, who is hidden nearby, is Shayjol.¡±


    Mason considered this, and then nodded. ¡°Are there¡­ more of your people?¡± Treyjol nodded solemnly. ¡°Are they nearby?¡±


    Treyjol shook his head, but Shaywise answered. ¡°We were sent to this area to try to find a new source of mana for our people to rely on.¡±


    Mason sighed in relief, ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m upset to hear they¡¯re far away. Where I¡¯m from, anything that can speak and think looks like me. We have animals, but nothing very smart. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet your family. I mean, on Earth it would be a world-changing discovery to meet sentient life, but since I¡¯m clearly not there anymore it¡¯s just kind of a shock.¡±


    Shaywise and Treyjol looked at one another, ¡°You¡¯re no less strange to us, honestly. How you live without mana is a miracle. But tell us, how far are your people, and are they all as timid as you, or should we fear an attack from them as well?¡±


    ¡°For right now¡­ it¡¯s only me here. I¡¯m the only human.¡±

 ~ Seven - Fireboar

    Shayjol and Mason stalked together after their prey. It was fifty yards off, but Mana Sight made it obvious to both of them where it stood. Compared to the cats, this thing was a true monster. It was wide and tall, with the shape and temperament of a boar, but the mana inside of it burned fiercely into a mohawk of flames, which Mason couldn¡¯t help but consider unbearably cool.


    They had agreed to hunt together for a few motivating reasons; the family needed more food and mana with Mason around, both races were curious about the abilities of the other, and Mason needed one more kill to finish off his Bloodlust challenge.


    ¡°Stay back here, Demon, or my parents will flay me for letting you get trampled or burnt. They seem to like their new mana-less pet,¡± Shayjol spat, still uncertain what to make of the man who could walk around darker than the dead.


    Mason wasn¡¯t truly invisible, not now. From the heinous amount of mana he had endured yesterday, to consuming several meals full of it, his Mana Tolerance had grown tremendously, with three skill points to reflect it. He was now generating seven tenths of a point of mana an hour, too, which, though trivial to his new friends, was considerable considering how his last week had been going.


    He was sitting on two points of mana in his body, and it felt only like a dull tingle, which was convenient to allow his hunting partner to see him, even if he appeared like a ghost.


    Mason¡¯s dagger had been replaced with a more suitable knife, serrated on one edge and an extra inch longer. He was excited to put it to good use, though he envied the short sword the family had suggested he might be able to use later when they trusted him more.


    ¡°Shayjol, that boar might be a veritable mana feast, but when I get the kill, you better bet I¡¯m not going to let you have any of it. I¡¯m sure your parents would be disappointed that you got out-hunted by a squishy thing like me.¡±


    They both continued to move closer, spreading out to flank the beast while it nibbled unaware on some magically infused bushes.


    Mason didn¡¯t know if he had the strength to really do a number on this beast, but he felt confident that Shayjol¡¯s spells would make it easier.


    They edged closer, and Shayjol made a motion to ensure Mason was ready. When he saw Mason¡¯s dark hood bob, Shayjol released a spell which pulled the boar towards him with great force, and sent the intervening leaves and bushes flying up into the air as well.


    The boar instinctively tried to turn and flee from the attack, but Mason was there, launching out from behind a tree to stab twice in the boar¡¯s side. It squealed and stamped as the spell ended and blood seeped from its side, but by the time it had turned and charged, Mason had ducked back behind a tree. He chuckled as he gained a point in sneak and dagger mastery.


    In the dark, with two dark and unadorned cloaks on, both of the boys were hardly visible. Mason even had the advantage of being hard to detect on a magical front as well. The boar sensed Shayjol though, and turned to charge at him instead.


    Mason was right behind it, swinging his staff like a baseball bat and striking it fiercely in the rump. It staggered, but almost unnoticeably, and Shayjol was forced to launch a blast of force to repel the boar as he dived out of the way and sprinted to safety.


    Mason was charged up now, the Mardun Mana still tingling and burning much more than what he could generate on his own. He saw in his mind¡¯s eye that he had pulled ten points of mana from the beast, far more than he had ever seen from the cats. Triggering Focus, and then Mana Manipulation, he managed to keep most of that mana stored safely in the staff, and endured through sheer willpower the burn of the mana that snuck past his control.


    The boar turned and looked right at Mason, enraged now by so many successful attacks. Despite the wounds on its side, it seemed in a sturdy condition, and it charged quickly this time.


    Mason barely had time to react, feeling a strike from one of the boar¡¯s tusks even as he dodged to the side. His health was still comfortably in the green, so he rolled as he hit the ground, and shouted a cheer as he saw Shayjol drop from a tree right next to the boar, bringing his axe down hard and cutting through the flames on top.


    While it roared and stamped about that attack, Mason slashed forward with his staff, releasing all of his mana in a life drain. He felt a considerable amount of power rush back at him, and the wound from the tusk immediately began stitching back together.


    ¡°Demon we call you, but you¡¯re more of a phantom! I cannot see you once you use your magic, so be cautious,¡± Shayjol warned.


    Mason counted on being hard to detect, and assumed this boar relied heavily on mana sense, as any reasonable magical beast would. He swept to the side and stabbed repeatedly into the boar¡¯s side, then ducked back again and into the trees, sweeping around the side of the battlefield.


    Before he had gotten back into striking range, he saw Shayjol swing his axe twice, cleaving off the beast¡¯s head. Mana Sight showed Mason that a large portion of the mana was held in its blood, and he watched interestedly as Shayjol bound the wound to keep it in, tying up the corpse to be carried on his strong back.


    15/15.


    <hr>


    That night the family gathered in their small cabin and dined on fireboar, a delicacy the Shays claimed had been one of the few benefits of coming to this plane. They had put off explaining what they knew of this world, and Mason didn¡¯t push the subject. He wasn¡¯t sure he was really ready to find out what he was in for, gathering from what little he had heard that his experience so far had been remarkably peaceful.


    They chatted about the hunt, and Shayjol even begrudgingly admitted that Mason was quick, far quicker than he had expected. Mason smiled appreciatively, taking the compliment in stride. He assumed it was because of the mana that his body was growing accustomed to. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Every one of his stats had converted a Focus Point in the past few days of work and mana absorption, and though he was concerned about the lack of excess FP, he was relishing in the improvements of the raw stats.


    As the conversation lulled, Mason took the initiative to push for a new subject. ¡°What were you all in your past life? Before you came to this plane?¡± He asked, hoping this wouldn¡¯t be too touchy.


    The three looked at one another, and then all looked down, faces screwed up in confusion. ¡°It is hard to recall our past lives. The longer one is on this plane, the less relevant the past feels,¡± explained Shaywise. ¡°I was actually a nurse at our local hospital. Treyjol was an actor in the local theater. He was¡­ quite good,¡± she smiled, her memories slowly trickling back to her.


    ¡°It¡¯s too bad you wouldn¡¯t recognize any of his impressions,¡± Shayjol added with a surprising amount of cheer considering how gruff he had been with Mason throughout the day, ¡°My friends would always ask him to perform them. I bet his Senlant is still a riot, even if you hadn¡¯t seen any of his movies.¡±


    Mason looked confused for a moment, but as his mind wrapped around the concept of these people having a world not unlike his own, he began to laugh from embarassment, ¡°I feel bad, I honestly expected that you came from a world very similar to this one. Y¡¯know, living in small cabins and the like. In my world we have a great many stories, we love to talk about when people lived in small villages and fought bravely against the dangers of the wild.


    ¡°In my era though, I lived in an apartment building in the city, on the tenth floor of a twenty floor building. I didn¡¯t even know my neighbors, and the scariest thing I¡¯ve ever fought was a goose in the park that wanted my sandwich.¡± Mason explained.


    Treyjol laughed at this, ¡°I also assumed you came from a primitive world. We also have our stories, they were what helped us gather our people in this world and survive. Our buildings were rarely quite twenty stories though, but our cities were expansive. We created sources of mana that powered high-speed transportation over miles, and we didn¡¯t have to hunt. My takings from the theater were enough for us to order food delivered to our home every night,¡± Treyjol patted his wide belly.


    ¡°The race we first encountered is a primitive race, though,¡± Shayjol added quietly. ¡°When they first appeared, they were well armed, each and every one of them. All of their magic was tailored to fighting, and they would have wiped us out if they weren¡¯t distracted fighting the monster hordes. It¡¯s mostly safe and peaceful around here, south of the Roving Band¡¯s passageways. But further north the monsters are thicker, filled with swarms of goblins with mana-conjured weapons, beasts of every nature who can bend the elements to their will, and dangerous lairs and dens ripped from other worlds.¡±


    His parents were quiet, but neither of them stopped his explanation.


    ¡°The worst threats are from the primitive race we called the Corrosion, and they are destructive monsters. Six arms, with spells that make mine pale in comparison and half a dozen techniques to spit or spray acid to ruin a battlefield or your home. The shortest of them is a foot taller than any of us. If they hadn¡¯t appeared further north, where the monsters are thick, or if they had any ability to work together as a large group, our people would not have survived.¡±


    Mason contemplated this and the sullen expressions on his friends¡¯ faces. He had been luckier than he¡¯d known, appearing in such an unsettled area. ¡°What do you call your people? And why haven¡¯t you settled south, where I came from? Where it¡¯s safe?¡±


    ¡°The Corrosi call us the Darkest Night, and that is a fine enough name for who we are now. We are at home in the darkness amongst the deep mana, but we have not yet found the strength to move our people underground. We barely can find enough mana to stay strong, let alone grow stronger,¡± Treyjol spoke forcefully about his people, bitterness mixed with pride.


    Mason was curious about the Corrosi and the threat they really represented. It also meant that humans weren¡¯t the only victims of this strange world, but compared to six-armed acid-spitting monsters, he wasn¡¯t sure they would stand a chance.


    If there were more humans coming here soon, how strong would he have to become to protect them?


    <hr>


    In the middle of the night, long after the Darkest family had gone to sleep, Mason snuck out of their cabin and found a quiet place a hundred yards off where the sloping valley began to rise up into a cliff before the mountains. He flicked on Mana Sight and could see what had lured the family here; faint glimmers of blue and purple deep in the stone that indicated mana could be mined here eventually.


    But Mason had his own source of mana to rely on for his strengthening, and he reached into his pack to pull out the sternum of the corpse he had found at his campsite. Holding it tightly between his two hands, he felt how odd it was that he had to think long and hard to see anything strange about using the corpse this way. Faint memories of his aunt¡¯s funeral trickled into his mind, and he remembered how sad he had been at her passing.


    ¡°You have to remember Mason, everything is survivable except the one thing that isn¡¯t. So if you suffer, you suffer. If you¡¯re healthy, if things are easy, that¡¯s all well and good. Those are the times to take full advantage of, to accomplish great things and enjoy yourself. But when you¡¯re suffering and things get hard, well, remember, you won¡¯t die from it, and if you do it won¡¯t matter. So you might as well continue to work hard even then, so that when things get better, you¡¯ll have everything you need.¡±


    She had lived her talk too, which is why Mason remembered her so fondly. The cancer took four years to kill her, two months of that was spent in hospice, and even while it ate away at her body she kept showing up to her job. She always played host for the family gatherings, and she kept living until she absolutely couldn¡¯t.


    Even though Mason knew her death had been agonizing back then, it was the same sort of intellectual understanding that one had while thinking about a war thousands of years back. Sure, it must be sad. But he couldn¡¯t feel it now.


    What he could feel was the mana absorbing into his body through his hands, and the fierce burning sensation that always came from too much. His jaw clamped shut immediately, and he felt the muscles in the back of his neck and down his back clenching too. He took a deep breath and activated Focus, then triggered Recovery and tried to relax, loosening those muscles and letting the mana become part of his body.


    Then he triggered Mana Manipulation and tried to pull the mana to his core, where he often saw it sit in the Darkest Night family. It resisted his pull, but his willpower was growing, and as mana found its way to its core it began to circulate in a way that felt¡­ not comfortable, but correct.


    His stamina was depleting fast, and he felt the mana growing volatile within him, but he held it steady, watching points tick off of his ample health.


    Through a surge of will, Mason stood to his feet, glanced in the distance, and drew his new dagger. Forcing the mana from the swirling pool inside of him to that dagger, he made a large, sweeping, slashing motion with the knife, watching as a crescent launched from its tip and slashed heavily into a tree five yards off.


    He exhaled heavily and sat back on his rear, staring at the charred gash in the tree that he had made, and laughed manically, collapsing back into the dirt and grass and trying to push off the first wave of Mana Sickness.


    Congratulations, you¡¯ve unlocked your first mana art: Mana Blade.


    Mana Blade: Unleash a wave of pure mana as a destructive force. Intelligence increases the sharpness of the wave. Willpower increases your control over the attack.


    Mana Sight has levelled up (1): 6


    Mana Manipulation has levelled up (2): 3


    Mana Tolerance has levelled up (5): 8

 ~ Eight - Butcher King

    Shayjol kicked Mason roughly as the early sun rose above the treeline. The two were still obscured by the shade of the cliff-face, but in another twenty minutes Shayjol would have to put up his hood to prevent its harm.


    Mason groaned, stretching his muscles tentatively as he got up. His health was just below full, his mana hovering around three, and his stamina bar full. He checked to notice his intelligence had increased a point, and his mana per hour had risen to a full point as well.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve spent a lot of time getting knocked unconscious since I entered this world. I can¡¯t say I enjoy it very much,¡± Mason whined, still not quite having raised himself to sitting.


    Shayjol stared down at him quietly, his dark features obscuring his thoughts. ¡°I should kill you before you get stronger, Mason the demon. Soon your demons will come into this plane, and your people and my people will go to war. If we do not kill you, they will grow strong under your influence, and we will be stuck between you and the Corrosi. If we kill you, our Mana Sight alone will be enough to bring your people to their knees, and we can claim any mana that appears with your town, all of your treasures, and prevent your people from ever seeing strength.¡±


    Mason¡¯s only response was to scowl, then he stuck his hand up and waited for Shayjol to take it. The dark boy did so, and they stared at each other with a moment of shared intensity, trying to decide how to proceed. Neither of them truly understood the purpose of this world, but they knew enough to understand that Shayjol was right. Swarms of goblins and six-armed warriors didn¡¯t appear out of nowhere in a land of peace.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what my people will do. My world is principled- do unto others as you would have done to you, the sanctity of life, all of that. But we war, we hate, and we fear. We are also traders, explorers, and inventors, though. And we can be strong, too,¡± He pointed at the thick gash in the far off tree, oozing sap and resin.


    ¡°My family was sent to find a new source of mana, so my people can live. We have found small deposits, but the real treasure lies deep underground, in what we suspect is one of this world¡¯s dungeons. Mana crystals can be mined from its halls, my senses know it, and I also believe there may be a font of mana. It may be enough to feed my people for a long time if they settle in the caves. Come with me into this dungeon and I will let the traps kill you.¡±


    ¡°What if they don¡¯t, Shayjol? You gonna melt me in a pool of mana?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the boy said, looking exasperated, but also very young, ¡°I will tell my people that humans are strong, that their assistance would be invaluable against the Corrosi and the monster hordes from the north. And I will tell them that they are led by the Demon of the Darkest Night.¡±


    <hr>


    The two set out immediately with Shayjol leading the way. They had told his parents nothing, but Shayjol had insisted they would figure out where they had gone fairly quickly. The hope was that, since the dungeon was in an area which didn¡¯t yet have a race, it would also be mostly unpopulated. If they could explore it and gather some of its artifacts, Mason could have enough power to impress the Darkest Night, and Shayjol¡¯s family would be able to come back to his people as heroes.


    Mason tested out the weight of the sword Shayjol had given him for this trip, and it took almost no time at all for it to trigger a notification.


    Dagger Specialization has been improved to Blade Specialization. Skill Level has been halved.


    It seemed reasonable, and so far other than the improvements he had seen with Focus, skill levels hadn¡¯t really seemed to make much more difference than he would have expected for just normal training.


    Then he realized. ¡°Shayjol, do you see a screen with stats and skills listed on it?¡±


    When he received an odd look in return, Mason began to worry that this was not a facet of this world. But in time Shayjol responded, ¡°Yes, I have completed challenges to become a Force Butcher. My mother is a Tracker, and my father is a Woodsman.¡±


    Mason had hoped that these classes would be something more familiar; Warrior, Mage, or Archer would have been a bit more recognizable, but the titles themselves seemed clear enough. ¡°Your class seems a lot more interesting than either of your parents. How did you get that?¡±


    ¡°The same way as all classes are granted. You grow strong, and then you complete the challenges. My mother upgraded Mana Sight to Mana Gatherer, and received a challenge to gather five skill points worth of mana crystals. That challenge awarded her the tracker title, and made it easier for her to locate mana crystals at a distance. This is how we were assigned this mission.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t think to ask about this sooner. So what did you do to get your titles?¡±


    ¡°I trained and I fought. My force skill was new when we were brought to this plane, so I used it for everything and raised my skill level swiftly. I received butcher for that was my job. I inherited my father¡¯s skill with the axe, and these two talents now identify me.¡±


    The two fell into silence as Mason contemplated this. Drawing up his status screen as they walked, he finalized the completion of the Bloodlust challenge.


    Challenge Complete! Bloodlust. You show no fear at accepting the obstacles ahead of you, even when progress requires a sacrifice. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    You¡¯ve become an Amateur Magical Slayer.


    You receive one FP to spend as you¡¯d like.


    You receive one FP for Willpower for using your skills.


    Your top three skills each gain one point.


    Then I¡¯ll put the FP into agility to make it easier to allow Shayjol to take the attention off me while we fight, and I guess that means a skillpoint for Focus, Staff Specialization, and Mana Tolerance. Closer and closer to becoming a real mage, it seems.


    You¡¯ve demonstrated talent and a willingness to utilize it, but your strength is a surprise.


    Do you take obstacles head on? Or do you wait in the shadows for an opportunity to strike?


    Memories of fighting the boar circulated in Mason¡¯s mind, and he considered what would be more useful for the growth of his spellwork as he plunged headfirst into a dangerous dungeon. I wait in the shadows.


    Shadowstalking challenge accepted: Defeat your enemies while they remain unaware, or bypass them altogether.


    Mason grimaced at the challenge description. There was no counter this time, so how would he know if he completed it?


    ¡°What is it, Demon?¡± Shayjol asked, eying the strange reactions on his face.


    ¡°My new challenge is¡­ unclear. ¡®Defeat your enemies while they remain unaware, or bypass them altogether.¡¯ I guess it will reward me for using stealth, but I¡¯m not sure when or how often.¡±


    ¡°This world is unclear, but I see your concern. My latest challenge is similarly unhelpful. ¡®Earn the position of authority that will grant you force through will, as well as mana.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a pleasant little riddle. Maybe you¡¯ll become the butcher king.¡±


    Shayjol grunted, but he hefted his axe as he walked, and it was clear he didn¡¯t dislike the sound of that.


    They stayed silent as they trekked, and the only enemy they saw along the way- a cat- Shayjol slew with a single chop of his axe. Mason wondered at his strength, and since the walk was slow and quiet, he decided to use the opportunity to try and find out with Analyze.


    It immediately levelled up at being used on another sentient being, and Shayjol¡¯s stats showed up in ranges.


    Shay¡¯Jol


    Force Butcher


    Level 4??


    Health: Full


    Mana: Full


    Stamina: Full


    Strength:  7-9


    Agility:  4-5


    Intelligence:  5-6


    Willpower:  7-8


    Vitality:  9


    Endurance:  7-9


    Creativity:  4


    Mason balked at the sight of his stats. Even the lower end of the stats put him stronger than Mason even after all of his bonus focus points from those early achievements. He began wondering what it would take to get more accurate analysis of someone else when he felt the collar of his shirt gripped hard and his body slammed against a tree.


    He gasped heavily from both shock and force, unsure of what was happening and too weak to respond to it. Then he came to with an activation of Focus and saw that this was Shayjol, and his pain turned to the internal sort. ¡°Wh¡­ what are you doing? I thought we were working together?¡±


    ¡°The little demon has done something to me, what is it? I felt your power, but that was not mana. What trickery is this?¡± Shayjol spat through a tight expression, the anger on his face brooking no debate.


    ¡°It¡¯s a skill of mine, Shayjol, it does no harm, I swear!¡± Mason dropped his staff and put both hands up in an act of contrition. ¡°I just used Analyze to see what your stats were, I did not know you¡¯d even notice. I didn¡¯t mean any harm.¡±


    Shayjol stared for several more seconds, then released his grip roughly, turning aside. ¡°This is not a friendly thing to do. It feels like an invasion, and I thought you were working a curse.¡±


    Mason just stared after Shayjol as he stomped away, then followed after quietly, unsure how to apologize for what had seemed like innocent curiosity.


    They still weren¡¯t talking when they made it back to the magical spot where Mason had met Shayjol¡¯s family. Instead, Shay jumped up on the round stone platform and channeled his mana forcefully at it. It remained dull for several seconds as wave after wave of mana crashed over it, but then runes all along its surface began to glow, and the stone shook and moved as it revealed a rough-hewn spiral staircase in the middle.


    Mason looked between his friend and the magical entrance several times before growing suspicious, ¡°How long have you know that this was the entrance to a dungeon?¡±


    ¡°It is obvious to anyone who can truly see mana. My parents simply did not want to take the risk of entering until they had exhausted their other options. I could not come here alone, for fear a trap or ambush would take me,¡± Shay¡¯s tone was as dull as his explanation.


    They descended the stairs and Mason tried hard to ignore the waves of frustration rolling off Shay. What was it about Analyze that was so deeply personal? Perhaps he¡¯d have to see if it was as frustrating to whatever lurked in these dimly lit halls.


    Between his improved Focus skill level and his Endurance, Mason could activate Focus often and for extended periods of time without too much trouble, and he was glad he had spent so much energy honing that before this dungeon. They exited the stairs in what looked like an emergency exit, with a heavy door that Shay had to force open with mana, but beyond that was a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors, carved out of a dark yellow stone.


    Crystals lined the walls, all glimmering slightly, or brightly, depending on Mason¡¯s activation of Mana Sight, but as he could not hold that for long, he simply strained with focus to get an idea of what was around. Their entrance was just off what seemed to be a main corridor, with halls and stone doors branching off on both sides of the walls down each direction of the corridor.


    Mason peered closely at the wall nearest to him, but when he reached to touch one of the crystals, Shay slapped his hand away. ¡°Those are not mana crystals, they are simply stones charged to draw mana up and down the passageway to provide vision to a mana-sighted race. If these are designed as they are in my world, tampering with them should alert whoever is managing this flow.


    ¡°I might advise you take your challenge to heart, Demon. Be like a shadow, pass by and touch nothing.¡±


    Mason grumbled, but quietly appreciated the advice. He was so far out of his depth in this world that even the lighting was a threat to him.


    ¡°Which way then? What exactly is your goal, Shay?¡±


    ¡°If the enemy here is not strong, we exterminate them. If they are strong, we rob them blind, and come back in force. Let¡¯s move this way, come,¡± Shay motioned to the left as he began a confident stride down the central passage.

 ~ Nine - Bloodbath

    Shay opened the first door on his left quietly, and the two slipped inside. For all intents and purposes, it looked like they had entered the living room of a small apartment, with a bed in the corner and assorted junk and books lining a shelf along the wall. Mason even saw a box filled with a strange pastry-like item in it on a counter, and a half-empty pitcher of water not too far away.


    While Mason looked through the snacks, Shay pulled aside the lichen cover from the bed, and grunted at what he saw. Two bodies lay flat on their backs next to one another, throats slit. Mason moved to look and almost gagged at the sight- their hands were bound in front of them, but even still their fingers were entwined, and their dull, pained looking eyes were set on one another.


    ¡°This was an execution,¡± Shay assessed, his emotions concealed from Mason.


    ¡°Why would they be killed in bed, bound? That¡¯s evil.¡±


    ¡°That is a warning, Demon who is called Mason. Someone wanted to inspire fear.¡± Shay threw the lichen-blanket back over the bodies, and walked from the room, content that there was nothing worth seeing here.


    They searched rooms on the left and right, and saw cruelty of a similar caliber all down the hallway. The entire quarters seemed to have been raided, and recently too, as the stench of decay had not yet fully overcome the stench of raw blood.


    Mason had avoided looking too closely at the bodies, sickened by the violence done to them, but in time he came to familiarize himself with the subterranean race. They seemed to be the pale green missing link between the dinosaurs and birds, with scaly flesh and sparse feathers down the back of their heads and necks. Their faces came to a point like they once had a beak in their heritage, and their hands and feet were long, thin things with too few phalanges for Mason¡¯s liking.


    They were shorter, and smaller too, than even Mason, but their bodies were rich with mana, even dead.


    ¡°Shay, should we be concerned by this? I¡¯m beginning to fear that whoever did this much damage is not someone we should be facing. There have to be what, forty, sixty dead already in just these few rooms?¡±


    ¡°We do not even know if there is an opponent here at all. These small beings do not seem strong or fierce, and it is possible they turned on one another, unable to cope to their appearance in this strange world. If I find those that remain, they will fall to my axe. Kinslayers do not receive mercy.¡±


    The two passed beyond the living quarters and into an even larger hallway, two bright blue lights burning at the end before a very large door. Shay marched down it proudly, hardly casting a glance to either side, having seen enough of what lay beside the main path, but a tinge of caution kept Mason to the side of the room, making his way slowly along the stone columns.


    Why do those doors look so familiar?


    Shay was ten feet off from the large doors when a shout that sounded much like a squawk sounded off to the side.


    Mason only had a few points of mana inside of him, but he knew that Mana Sight could be a danger to him. He pushed it from his body and tried to squeeze himself into the shadows, and felt the mana envelop him. His Creativity stat ticked up, and a notification appeared that he told himself he¡¯d look at later.


    Shay slashed out with his axe at the approaching birdmen, leaving a deep gash in the arm of one, and a solid bruise on the cheek of another, but a third appeared from behind a pillar near the tall doors and came at him with an impossibly sized mallet. Shay pulled his axe up in time to deflect the blow, but the axe flew from his hand and the creatures began to seize him, the mallet drawn up in the air to threaten a crushing blow.


    Mason considered his options, then slipped his dagger out of its sheathe and snuck up on the trio as they began to draw Shay away. Shay, even through his dark features and cloak, looked visibly distressed, panic written in the widening of his violet eyes.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The shadows almost seemed to move with Mason, obscuring his passage as he moved slowly closer and closer, certain that his Sneak was only this effective because the creatures were distracted by the mana-infused presence of his larger companion, and the amount of effort it took to contain him.


    He was lunging distance away from the bird with the impossible mallet, but uncertainty gripped him. Could he kill a thinking creature? Bloodlust had said nothing about that.


    Then he saw the one on the right drawing a knife, and heard it squawking at Shay that if he didn¡¯t calm down soon, the blade would do it for him. This was not Earth. There were no police to call.


    If I want to save my friend, I have to act.


    His thought wasn¡¯t even done before his knife was in the back of the mallet wielder, whose strength gave out immediately. The mallet crashed down to the ground but Shay had already pulled away, dragging the knife-wielder into its landing zone. The bird squawked and screamed as its arm bent at strange angles, but he stood, knife-arm unharmed, and began to slash out at Shay as his final companion tried to keep him still.


    Dagger put away, Mason drew his staff and smashed the gem of it into the fallen mallet-wielder. He pulled the mana this time, drawing as much as he could at once, then with a wide, arcing swing unleashed the mana blade he had learned the night before. The blade cut and left a large gash in the knife-wielders chest, and he fell to the ground sputtering and bloody.


    Shay had taken the distraction as an opportunity to wrench his axe arm free from the third birdman, and with a firm slash left a deep imprint in its shoulder. It fell to the ground, gripping it in pain, and Shay kicked it firmly then put his boot on the creature¡¯s mouth. ¡°Shut up!¡± He roared, and the creature¡¯s pointed mouth slammed shut, though his eyes were wide and blood pooled beneath him.


    ¡°Will you make me kill you for your silence, or will you accept first aid for your information?¡± He held the axe down toward the bird, and lifted his foot slightly.


    ¡°I help!¡± it squawked, ¡°I help! I not evil. I just not want to die!¡±


    Mason took a deep breath, triggering Focus and Analyze in his accustomed pattern. The creature at Shay¡¯s feet had strength as high as Mason¡¯s, a surprise considering its size, but low intelligence. Mana Vision indicated the creature was magical though, so perhaps intelligence didn¡¯t completely correspond to magical ability like in some scenarios¡­


    He snapped back to attention, looking at Shay still standing over the creature, ¡°Let¡¯s get him back to one of those rooms, quickly.¡±


    Shay hastily bound up the wound on its arm and carried the creature back down the hallway while Mason checked on his notifications from the fight.


    Mana vampirism and blade specialization had improved a point.


    Sneak has been upgraded into a Mana Art: Shadowstalk.


    Shadowstalk: Wrap the shadows around you like a cloak, improving your Sneak ability through the use of mana.


    Well that¡¯s a considerably improved ability. It seems like I chose the right challenge this time.


    Shay threw the birdman roughly into one of the rooms closest to the main hall, brandishing his axe and staring him down to ensure he didn¡¯t try anything funny. The birdman scrabbled away toward the wall and yelped as he touched something under this room¡¯s lichen-covers. ¡°Sirs, sirs, there¡¯s a weapon. Please, I don¡¯t want to harm you. Take it, take it!¡± he shouted, throwing both hands in the air.


    Mason stepped forward and took the weapon off the bed - another sharp dagger on a belt- and added it to his growing weapon collection.


    ¡°Talk, birdman, and we won¡¯t harm you any further. We¡¯ll just lock you up here until we figure out what to do with you,¡± Mason explained.


    ¡°My name is Terk! Terk will talk. Terk will explain. But um, Terk doesn¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    Shay put away his axe and glowered, ¡°What happened here? Why,¡± he gestured to this room¡¯s corpse, ¡°are so many of your people dead?¡±


    Terk paled, as much as sunless green skin could pale, and seemed to crouch smaller on the bed, ¡°A demon came, and unleashed hell.¡±


    Mason shivered at the succinct description and the intensity in the little thing¡¯s voice. ¡°What do you mean a demon?¡±


    ¡°Terk heard stories! A demon appeared and killed the king for the great staff. He appeared in a mist of blood and everyone exploded. Then he disappeared. The king¡¯s men sealed off the temple, this temple! Then they hunted for the witches that summoned the demon.¡±


    Shay looked confused, and Mason was glad that he could only see his mana form, and didn¡¯t notice the pallor on his skin. Terk continued, ¡°Any strong guard can seal the castle, but the king hated when people betrayed him. He made it so only he could unseal it, with the staff! But nobody could find it. When the guards got angry, they¡¯d kill another servant. They were angry a lot, a lot!¡±


    ¡°And nobody ever confessed to being witches, or had any idea where the staff could be. Because it was long gone,¡± Mason said quietly.


    Shay looked him full on then before shifting his vision to the powerful staff that Mason had always held. ¡°Demon,¡± he spat, stomping from the room.

 ~ Ten - In Cold Blood

    ¡°Shay!¡± Mason called after his friend only to hear Terk squeak again. The little birdman looked closely at the staff, with its bright green gem at the top, and the elegant black body carved with mana-infused runes from top to bottom. Even without mana sight, the black almost glowed, somehow both avoiding attention, and commanding it.


    ¡°D-d¡­ ¡° Terk began, only to silence immediately when Mason shot him a glare.


    ¡°Stay there, Terk,¡± Mason said impatiently, walking briskly out of the room to head after Shay and explain.


    ¡°Stay back. No, get your hands off me! Mason, flee!¡± Mason heard, only to hear the scuffling and footsteps of what could only be more than a handful of men, armored much better than the ruffians they had first encountered. It made sense then- the first group had been witch-hunting vigilantes, patrolling to try and find the guilty party before the guards got kill-happy again.


    Then the men grabbing Shay now must be the actual guards. ¡°Fucking hell¡­¡± Mason muttered. He stepped back into the room and looked at Terk, ¡°Play dead, or get killed. Your call,¡± then ripping the sternum he carried from his bag and hastily activating Mana Vampirism, he pulled a large amount of mana to both his personal self and his staff, leaning heavily on the improvements he had received to Mana Resistance.


    The spell triggered, and he followed it with Shadow Stalk, vanishing while he moved swiftly toward obvious danger.


    The mana burned heavily as he felt the weight of nearly forty full points raging through his body, but he knew he had no choice if he were going to maintain a brand new spell for any reasonable length of time. At the least, he felt the combination of the mana and his hasty activations improving each of the skills he activated by one. He saw Shay being dragged across the large hall that led to the oddly familiar ornate doors, and contemplated how he would take out six armed, armored, and likely mana-infused warriors at once to rescue his friend.


    They had hurt Shay badly already, that much was obvious. His body sagged as three of the guards worked together to pull him along, and a faint trail of blood trickled back, making it easy for Mason to follow at a distance.


    They had gone halfway down another hallway when Mason stumbled, pushed aside by a doorway opening right where he had crouched in stealth. Noticing his weight, the door opener glanced down and looked at him directly, and he felt the guise of shadowstalk lifting instantly. Reptilian-bird eyes flew wide open as they noticed him, and the woman looked about to shout, so Mason immediately leapt to his feet and tackled her, utilizing every drop of his newfound agility stat.


    She went down and together they rolled back into the room, Mason trying to bear the brunt of the fall to prevent more noise. He exhaled heavily even as he clamped his hand tighter to the woman¡¯s mouth, but as he tried to lift himself and urge her to silence, he looked up to see three angry birdmen standing over them both.


    They weren¡¯t in armor, but they wielded heavy looking, if unconventional, clubs possibly made from expensive table legs, and Mason swore and pulled the woman up against him as a living shield. ¡°Attack me and I swear I will drain her of her mana and her life until she¡¯s nothing but a shrivelled husk,¡± Mason gasped out quickly.


    ¡°Aye, you harm a feather on her head and you¡¯ll be nothing but a squished pumple you fur-ridden lout!¡± the center man shouted, much louder than Mason could appreciate in this tense moment.


    He used the hand that wasn¡¯t clamped to the woman¡¯s mouth to grab his dagger out and hold it, hilt first, toward the man. ¡°Take my weapon, just stay quiet,¡± Mason urged. ¡°Please, god, please.¡±


    The man looked suspiciously at the hilt of the blade, but his compatriot, a smaller, bluish birdman took it and looked at it. ¡°Merek, I think we should be pointing questions, not clubs. May be this is the witch, or the demon, everyone¡¯s in a hubbub about, but if he really were, why¡¯d he hand over his weapon? Didn¡¯t he kill the king with just a thought?¡±


    The larger man, Merek, bumped the lower end of his club against the smaller birdman and exclaimed, quietly, ¡°Shit-for-brains if he can kill the king with a thought then of course he¡¯d give up a measly little dagger. The real question is why he hasn¡¯t killed us at all. I mean, it¡¯s not as if holding a woman and thinking were mutually exclusive tasks¡­¡±


    ¡°Well I would have to beg to differ, seeing as my brain do turn quite to shit when I catch a whiff of the feather-crown of a lady as fair as Bazy¡¯s,¡± said the third, wielding what looked like a sharpened shovel.


    Mason looked between the three, exasperated, ¡°If I let go of Bazy and promise not to melt you all with a thought, can you spare me a minute to explain what¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°So you are the demon? Boy the guards will sure be happy if we hand you over to them, sure will,¡± chimed in shit-for-brains.


    ¡°I swear to Phoenix if you don¡¯t pipe down I¡¯m going to smash you in the head with this club until your brains start to work, Lany. There¡¯s no way the demon is gonna turn himself in.¡±


    Mason gave up on waiting for them to be reasonable and simply let go of Bazy and addressed them all, ¡°Merek, Lany, Bazy, and Shovelknight over there, I will not be turning myself in, but I will also not be killing you today if you don¡¯t make me.


    ¡°My friend and I were hunting for mana and stumbled upon these ruins, which I guess is still a fairly functional city for you all. My friend got captured by your guards, and now I need to get him free and out of here. Can you at least do me the decency of staying quiet and letting me free him if you won¡¯t help in any way?¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°Ah, well it does make a lot of sense that they¡¯d mistake your buddy for the demon. If he looks like you, he¡¯d look a whole lot like the demon. Or more¡¯n he don¡¯t look like us, and my best guess is nobody could kill the king if he were one of us. King was a big ¡®ol tough guy, fancy staff and lots of power that he took from the stuff he killed protecting us all,¡± Lany added, earning again the name shit-for-brains.


    ¡°You planning to kill your way to your friend, or think you can sneak him out with some fancy smoothe-skin magic?¡± asked Merek, ignoring Lany¡¯s rambling.


    Mason looked between them uncertainly. Judging by their rough weapons and tattered clothing, they clearly weren¡¯t looked upon favorably by the guards, but that didn¡¯t necessarily mean they¡¯d be okay with seeing them dead.


    Thankfully, Shovelknight chimed in, ¡°If you¡¯re gonna kill them all, I¡¯ll help. My whole family got executed as friends of the witches. Seems I can¡¯t find myself in worse shape by helping one now if I¡¯m already guilty of it.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay. I¡¯m sorry for tackling you, miss. It was a bit of a tense situation with a whole group of guards just down the hall. Could you¡­¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re taking him to the cellar, so you¡¯ll need this to get him out,¡± Bazy passed him a key from under her frock. It was a thick, heavy thing, looking hand-forged. ¡°There¡¯s a set of stairs that spiral down at the very end of this hallway, and he¡¯ll be down there. And next time you tackle me, make sure it¡¯s onto something soft, would you?¡±


    The three men looked at her, shocked by her forwardness, but she just shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s health potions in the cupboards two rooms down. There¡¯ll be guards there, but if you can¡¯t take care of them, well, you might as well not even try saving your friend. Feel free to drop my name if you need a distraction.¡±


    She sat down on a chair by the table in the room, and Mason could see now that her frock wasn¡¯t the raw sackcloth he thought it was. Once it may have even been beautiful, but now it was bloodied and dirtied from the civil war that had happened since the death of their king.


    He nodded curtly, quickly snatching back his dagger, then ducked out of the room, deciding that their silence and approval were enough assistance for him to carry on.


    He moved straight for the room that he was told would be stocked with potions and stopped at the door, contemplating. Then he knocked twice, and spoke in his best Lany impression, ¡°Whoo boy, you¡¯d never believe it! Bazy wants both of you to come visit her in her room! Said something about some secrets about the witches that you boys might want to rustle out under her skirts!¡±


    It was hardly a believable ploy, but then, Mason didn¡¯t need them to believe it. He activated Shadow Stalk, and as soon as the door opened lashed out quickly with his first dagger. Activating Focus as he stepped past the falling body, he lunged across the room with his dagger and every bit of ferocity he could summon.


    Mana Blade activated on its own, fueled by his violent cross slash, and he watched the empowered slash cut right through the worn-out leather on the second guard in the room. He glanced around with Focus to see that those were the only two guards, and then turned to drag the body from the doorway into the room.


    The guard at the door must have had much higher vitality than Mason assumed. As Mason turned, he barely had enough time to get his dagger up to deflect a heavy vertical slash the man aimed at his head. The dagger flew from his hands from the force of the blow, so he drew out the second one that Terk had found earlier.


    The guard¡¯s sword flashed and Mason found himself disarmed again, receiving a hilt to the face as further punishment from the combo. Mason was suddenly glad to be over-prepared as he drew the sword that Shay had leant to him. This time, he held tight when the guard began a flurry of blows, and did his best to deflect each hit, sustaining a small amount of damage with each blow.


    His health falling even as his stamina plummeted, Mason knew he had to turn this around. He ducked under the next slash and came up to tackle the man under the shoulders, lifting him into the air long enough to pull away and get some space. Mason tapped directly into the mana reserves in his staff and unleashed another mana blade, and the guard, down when Mason used the first one, was wholly unprepared. It caught him around the neck and he fell in a spurt of blood.


    Mason dropped the sword, exhausted from the expenditure of his health, stamina, and mana all at once. He shut the door to the room, enduring the presence of the two corpses, and sat heavily in the unoccupied chair.


    ¡°Holy fucking shit, what did I just do?¡± he asked the pool of blood on the ground, trying to steady himself with a breath.


    A wave of fatigue that was as mental as it was physical came over him, and he sat heavily while activating Recovery, checking his notifications to see if there were anything he should be aware of before moving on. Mana Blade, Blade Specialization and Shadow Stalk all levelled up, predictably, but his challenge remained incomplete.


    He looked down at the body beneath him and shrugged, ¡°Really more reptilian than bird like, I guess. It was probably rude of me to keep calling you all birdmen,¡± He kicked it unceremoniously, too drained to really feel guilty for killing the man, whatever animal he most resembled.


    Then Mason went over to the cabinets and took out three exquisite, bright red potions. He looked them over greedily, and then scanned the rest of the storage in the room. It was packed tight with food, and judging by how thin the four bird¡­ or lizardmen¡­ had been in the room before, this must have been the real reason Bazy sent him this way.


    Nonplussed, he cast a quick Analyze on the potion to ensure it wasn¡¯t just straight poison, and the console responded in a fairly assuring way.


    ??? Potion: 70% chance to have positive benefits for the drinker.


    Despite the information deficit, he choked down the potion quickly, surprised by the very bitter, earthy flavor of something so brightly colored. It did the trick though, and he saw his health rise rapidly, and in a few seconds it was full again. Recovery was still working on his stamina, as the very last dredges of Mana Sickness still slowed that regeneration rate, but he knew he¡¯d be ready to move on before the blood on the floor dried to his boots.


    ¡°Alright, friend, I guess this is goodbye,¡± He cooed, as he pulled the skull from his bag to replenish his mana. ¡°I really hope you don¡¯t curse me from the afterlife for using your body like this but the living have first dibs, after all.¡±


    He placed the skull on the table where the two guards had been playing some sort of game involving tiles and dice, and drew his staff. As the last bone, and the skull, of the body that had left him his campsite, and helped him learn to use magic, he felt the weight of the decision almost more heavily than he did the weight of having just murdered two guards.


    But he had no choice. He had decided to survive and grow strong in this world, and that meant pushing himself forward. He would not be trapped in the box of his weak human self, but would open the door into something greater.

 ~ Eleven - Demon

    Time froze as his staff made contact with the skull, and a notification popped up before his eyes.


    Activating Mana Vampirism will also activate the Staff of Mardun¡¯s third ability. Will you proceed?


    The choice was obvious, so Mason confirmed it.


    Congratulations! You¡¯ve unlocked the Staff of Mardun¡¯s third ability: Soul Steal.


    Soul Steal: Connect with traces of an unbound soul, absorbing parts of their power into you. The cycle of life requires the transfer of strength and energy, but your will drives the cycle forward.


    Mason¡¯s body burned worse than from any bit of mana he had ever touched. It was as if his very mind were affected, memories flashing before his eyes with a flash of flame that drove the very concept of breathing or self-control from him.


    He saw familiar things; sitting by a lake, breathing, meditating, trying to relax and still his mind. Making love to his first girlfriend and the way her skin flushed as the sweat between the two of them seemed to bind them. Getting his first car and driving as far and as fast as he could, terrified he would wreck on his first day out but exhilarated to be so far from home.


    But there were unfamiliar things too; a world with no natural light, but mana everywhere, and he could see the mana as easily as Mason could normally see true light. The people wore shimmering coats and clothes with patterned, decorative runes conducting mana this way and that. He saw a figure he identified as himself, but who was clearly a Darkest Night he had never seen before, using his mana to summon a vehicle much like a San Francisco trolley, preparing to leave his family behind to start a new career¡­


    The two sets of memories flashed and burned and Mason thought he would die, but as the agony continued he became accustomed to it, and he began to feel his way back into his body, remembering hands and feet and eyes in a corporeal sense.


    He was almost back to normal, he could almost remember where he was, and who he was, when another notification bombarded his awareness.


    You have been called Demon, slayer of Legendary Kings, Stealer of Souls, Stalker of Shadows. You acknowledge your bloodlust and will to strike.


    You have plunged this kingdom into chaos, yet return to wreak more havoc. You steal the soul of an unknown warrior to fuel your ambition.


    Choose: Do you embrace what you have done? Or do you run from responsibility?


    The world was frozen, and Mason had to choose if it were ever going to start again. It didn¡¯t seem a fair choice- Mason hadn¡¯t known he was choosing to do any of that. He killed the king on accident- not even an accident- he still didn¡¯t even know how that had happened. And the soul steal ability had activated on its own. Sure, he accepted the ambiguous prompt, but he hadn¡¯t decided to steal a soul!


    But he had taken the Staff of Mardun and the gold around it. And he had consumed that corpse as a means to power. He also chose to slay those guards merely because they were in his way.


    I¡¯m not who I thought I was, not even a little.


    But he would embrace what he had done.


    You have become the Demon you once reviled. What you do with your strength is your decision, but the Trials have brought you further than you dared on your own.


    +1 FP for intelligence.


    +1 FP for willpower.


    Several of your Focus Points have been integrated.


    By integrating the soul from the Darkest Night race, you¡¯ve developed the ability to impersonate them using the ability Glamour. This ability can be defeated by close inspection, and those familiar with you will be harder to fool.


    By integrating a soul from the Darkest Night race, you¡¯ve begun to master their skills.


    Your Mana Sight levelled up (4): 10


    Your Mana Manipulation levelled up (5): 8


    Your Mana Blade levelled up (4): 6


    Recalculating status¡­


    Demon of the Darkest Night:


    Amateur Magical Slayer


    Level 3 (30FP)


    Health: 52/52 (3.2/hr)


    Mana: 35/35 (2.5/hr)


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.Mana (Mardun): 35/35


    Stamina: 12/70 (3/min)


    Strength:  5 (+1)


    Agility:  6 (0)


    Intelligence:  8 (0)


    Willpower:  7 (0)


    Vitality:  6 (0)


    Endurance:  7 (0)


    Creativity:  5 (+2)


    Active Skills: Focus (10), Mana Vampirism (7), Analyze (5), Life Drain (5), Recovery (6)


    Passive Skills: Equip (5), Staff Specialization (8), Blade Specialization (5)


    Mana Arts: Mana Sight (10), Mana Manipulation (8), Mana Tolerance (10), Mana Blade (6), Shadow Stalk (8), Glamour (1)


    Soul Arts: Soul Steal


    <hr>


    They were lucky that the next Roving Band was meant to be nearby, or Shaywise likely would have had a heart attack while fearing for her son. When the couple had first seen that the sword and the supplies were gone in the morning, Treyjol had taken his axe and stormed into the woods, certain the boys would still be nearby.


    When the tracks led off back toward the entrance to the dungeon, he knew it was too late to go directly after them.


    ¡°Maybe we can get to them before they try to open it, Treyjol. We have to try, we should leave right now!¡± Shaywise insisted, already hastily throwing food and mana crystals into travelling bags.


    Treyjol was a kind man, despite his gruff nature, but the thought of putting his wife in danger was beyond what his patience allowed. He took her by the shoulders and spoke clearly in a low voice, ¡°We are going to alert the Rovers that there is a dungeon nearby with a high presence of mana. We¡¯ll offer to split the reward for its discovery as long as they agree to launch a rescue mission for the boys.¡±


    Shaywise looked away from him, obviously seeing the path of mana her son had taken, and looked ready to argue.


    ¡°There is no way you¡¯re entering those dungeons. You are not made for violence, dear. The Rovers are experts at it.¡±


    So after Treyjol put down the rest of her protestations they set off, relying heavily on Shaywise¡¯s mana tracking to pick up the scent of the Roving Band.


    <hr>


    ¡°I miss the real world,¡± Leornal whined, sucking on a mana crystal from his pack¡¯s reserves. ¡°Back on Marra we could just pull all the mana we needed from the air, simple as breathing. Now we¡¯ve gotta fucking dig it from the ground, and it can take us a week and a half just to find a good place for our shovel.¡±


    ¡°As if you¡¯ve ever held a shovel in your life, old man,¡± said the captain of the Roving Band, Torysen. ¡°And when we find one good store of mana, you¡¯ll see this world isn¡¯t so bad. Its mana-poor, sure, but can¡¯t you feel the other energy? That strange life force that these plants seem to draw from the stars?¡±


    ¡°Screw the plants, and screw the stars. I just want to see the mana blossoming from the Kharlan craters once more. I want to sit in a pool and feel it soaking into my skin. This world is a desert.¡±


    ¡°Wait a second, do you sense that?¡± A third member of the band, Sentir, said, walking up close to the others. ¡°There¡¯s something coming.¡±


    Torysen held a hand up in the air, then made a gesture once she had everyone¡¯s attention. The group all at once released a wave of mana to scan the nearby area, and their combined strength gave them mana visibility for a tremendous distance.


    Deep below their feet were sparkles and glimmers- mana sure enough, but hardly enough to constitute a mining effort. But off in the distance two bright lamps of mana were moving hurriedly toward them. Torysen formed a rune with her mana and held it up high for visibility, and saw the figures in the distance form the corresponding rune moments later.


    The whole group eased up at once, one of the rangers chuckling even. There were hardly any dangers this far south, but that led to a danger of a different kind. This group was combat-ready by training standards, but it had been so long since they had seen real action that they couldn¡¯t know for sure that they could react properly if a tribe of Corrosi popped up.


    With a clear direction to focus, Torysen could see the two approaching, and she recognized them as Treyjol and Shaywise. She was supposed to recon with them a few days later, but couldn¡¯t blame them if they had something exciting to share sooner.


    She sent up the rune of kindness and greeting, though that was typically reserved for marking a home, and appreciated their response of a rune of familiarity.


    Torysen had been on this patrol longer than most, and had been in this region even longer than the two gatherers who were now walking up. Her brother had come this way during the earliest scouting, and she had followed with the Roving Bands not long after, though they had never managed to find him.


    ¡°What news, Shaywise?¡± she called, as soon as the two were in hearing range.


    ¡°We found enough mana to maintain our entire population for years, to maybe reclaim the glory of Marra,¡± Treyjol called back in his deep voice. ¡°But we fear there¡¯s trouble, and we need your Rover¡¯s help. The mana is in a dungeon, and our son has entered it.¡±


    Torysen frowned, her Rovers might get enough combat experience to get back in shape after all.


    <hr>


    ¡°Are you absolutely certain the Staff of Mardun is a wise thing to leave with the monkey people? They might all just fry themselves to dust by accidentally taking too much mana at once.¡±


    ¡°I know the Trials classify it as legendary, but I can¡¯t remember ever hearing a real legend about it. I don¡¯t even believe it¡¯s that strong. But it¡¯ll let the human boy tinker with things he shouldn¡¯t have any ability to tinker with, and if that doesn¡¯t suit the spirit of the Trials I really don¡¯t know what would.¡±


    ¡°Well, this is your pet project so I will trust your judgment. You will remember to not get attached, won¡¯t you? The chances that a non-mana race will even be able to leave the first plane is nearly zero, after all.¡±


    ¡°Most races don¡¯t make it off the first plane, Helzibeh. I just find it cruel that the Trials would let a race die without giving them the slightest bit of hope. If he can find just a tiny bit of strength, give the humans a fighting chance to survive their first month, then I will be able to walk away satisfied. Perhaps they¡¯ll even pass the Staff of Mardun to a race that can use it properly.¡±


    ¡°Who has it now? That weird race with the feathers?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they¡¯re dreadfully dumb. But moving your entire civilization underground can really stall out your development. I heard they once had actual wings, and yet somehow they decided to live in caves. But whatever their poor decisions, now they live in the Trials so fate is unkind to even the foolish.¡±

 ~ Twelve - Capture

    Demon staggered around the room as he tried to pull himself together, kicking the corpse by the door and knocking over the table, sending the game and his bags scattering to the dusty floor by the mostly empty barrels of foodstuffs. His body didn¡¯t burn from the mana within him for once, but it felt unfamiliar. Changed.


    He pulled at his cloak and it loosened as he adjusted it around his stressed muscles, and he held tightly to his staff to help circulate the mana through his body, feeling it pool and burst at regular intervals around him, as if clearing open long-clogged passageways. He fought back a scream desperately, sure he couldn¡¯t chance making a scene, and continued rampaging through the room before finally wearing himself out.


    He looked at his hands and it was as if he had triple vision. He could see his skinny, slightly tanned hands, the glow of his mana, and a second set of slightly sturdier, pitch black hands with the strange curves of the Darkest Night race. Even stranger was that none of these three appearances resonated with him as he viewed himself.


    He was someone different now, not quite human or Darkest Night, and his memories reflected it. He remembered waking in this plane, surrounded by Darkest Night, searching for his sister. The first few weeks of fighting unfamiliar and blood-thirsty creatures just to protect their small and unsophisticated new home.


    But he also remembered being scared and frightened Mason, hurtling through his assessment with uncanny luck, thinking that the challenges seemed to almost mold and map specifically around him.


    A voice not unlike his own insisted that he was a Demon, and he imagined slaying the tyrant king of the bird-people and claiming his legendary staff for his own, relishing the strength it would bring him to guide all three races to prosperity in this new land.


    Three races? He supposed he had formed a sort of kinship with these bird-people, the poor, dumb bird people, enslaved into thinking their tyrant cared for him, while he simultaneously kept them weak to prevent any of them from threatening their power.


    The remnants of Mason knew these memories were fabricated, but he wondered where they were from. Perhaps he had taken in the soul that was still part of the staff?


    His mind spun as he tried to reconcile three, or perhaps four, disparate identities. He captured the idea of Demon, holding him before his mind¡¯s eye, watching his form take shape.


    He was larger than Mason by a fraction, built with strong, well-used muscles. His skin was dark, but a reddish dark that promised to reflect an intimidating aura in the light, while still concealing him in the shadows. Then there was the crown of horns. Two prominent horns, no more than two inches tall protruding from the right and left side of his forehead, and the smaller mounds all around the crown of his skull, crowning him in his power.


    The remnant Mason laughed as he saw the form. He had never been quite so dramatic as to think this dark and red hellborne image was ¡®cool,¡¯ but he had to admit the effect worked. With the image set, his glamour skill went to work, consuming a few points of mana to generate the image but very little to maintain. Instinct told him that would change under scrutiny.


    He looked at his hands and saw just this, his Demon form, and felt the panic in his mind subside slightly.


    Demon gathered the knives, the sword, his staff, and his bags, then cast Shadow Stalk and rushed into the hallway.


    Using the key, he made his way into the stairwell that led down to where Shay was being held captive. He moved as quickly as he could while trying to remain silent, hoping not to disable Shadow Stalk for any reason.


    He felt his own luck when he reached the bottom of the stairwell. He peered out to see five guards all sitting, scattered about yet another room with another table and another strange dice and tile game. They looked relaxed, likely content that they were beyond the reach of a locked door.


    It didn¡¯t take a wealth of creativity to find a way to sneak around them as the room was fairly dim and cluttered with racks of armor and weapons. Demon wondered idly about getting Shay back through this room without the use of the stealth skill, but decided that was a bridge to be crossed when he met it.


    Beyond the large guard room was an open door leading to a long passage which opened up to another chamber, also long, but wider, with sturdy doors down both sides. The prison.


    It was no challenge either to see where Shay was being kept. A single guard stood outside his door, apparently lost in his fury as he shouted at Shay to give him information.


    Demon grinned, this was going to be too easy.


    He moved up silently, channeling extra mana into Shadow Stalk to ensure he remained concealed, and then when he had passed three doors, and was within lunging range, he unsheathed his dagger and pounced.


    His dagger met steel as the guard wheeled around, a bracer bound to his belt catching the blade of the dagger. Demon spun from the recoil and struggled to balance, clearly revealed, and heard the distinctive sound of a large sword being removed from its sheathe.


    ¡°I knew you¡¯d come, Demon,¡± the man shouted, noting the distinctive horns even under his hood.


    The shout carried, and quickly the guards in the other room were getting to their feet.


    ¡°I feared you¡¯d be stronger, but you are slow. I was not there when you killed my king, but I will avenge him and take his place,¡± the guard swore, striking downward at Demon as he struggled to move away from the lightning fast blow.


    Demon sheathed his dagger and pulled out his staff, fearing he would need as much defense as he could get. He struck out with the bottom of his staff, hoping to catch the man off guard, but the man simply kicked the staff back and away, stepping closer to Mason with a look of extreme patience.


    ¡°How did you kill my king, Demon? Did you steal magic from one of the other planes? You do not have the strength about you.¡± He slashed lazily and Demon took advantage of it to gain his feet.


    ¡°Stranger things happen in this world than the death of your king. Before you force me to show you them, release my friend,¡± he bluffed, ripping forward with his staff to try and land a direct blow and activate Mana Vampirism.


    His opponent parried with remarkable ease. ¡°You are not very strong. I was afraid, at first, when my king died. His staff was taken, the throne room was awash in blood, and I thought these birdmen had risen up to revolt against us. But then no attack came, even after I ordered the deaths of all the servants.¡±


    The two exchanged a few more blows.


    ¡°But that was all I needed to know. A coward kills and vanishes. A great man, a truly powerful man, would stay to conquer. Time passed, and you return to us. Return to face your punishment.¡±


    Demon realized now that under the armor and helmet, this was not a bird man. He was much taller, and his face was much flatter. He could have passed for human, or a cousin of the human race, but something about him was distinctly alien.


    Demon lunged again and was deflected, but he jumped to the side and swept once more, funneling all of his mana into a Mana Blade. The man didn¡¯t react fast enough to dodge the attack, but instead merely slashed at the mana with his sword. The attack dissipated pathetically, and Demon recognized where he stood. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Demon was stronger, faster, than Mason ever had been. But that did not mean he was strong, and it did not mean he was fast.


    Shay spoke quietly from the cell, ¡°I told you to flee, my friend.¡±


    The guards from the other room stood at attention at the far end of the hall, but made no move to join the fight. Their leader had this, without any question.


    <hr>


    The band made good time, but to Shaywise¡¯s nerves, they were far behind where they should be. Unfortunately, eight people with supplies moved much slower than two boys rising at the break of dawn with only what they could carry on their backs.


    Twice, the group had stopped on that first day to scout. Torysen would mark an area to rest, while one of the smaller of their group would begin making food, and the other four people in her troop would scatter, making sure they were not being followed, and that the area was clear of an major threats. Two goblins had been brought back, dead, and several cats were killed where they were, but beyond that it had been a quiet expedition.


    Quiet, that is, except for Shaywise¡¯s insistence that any break was more break than they should be taking.


    Torysen didn¡¯t like being in unfamiliar territory though, even if it were south where the land was supposedly uninhabited. In this world, one never knew when an unknown threat would appear. A whole race could take hold in an area overnight, and as it was guaranteed that a dungeon had formed in the area, there was no telling what might leak out of it.


    So though her caution did not pay off actively, she felt secure knowing that it could be relied on if the tides ever did turn.


    Eventually they arrived though, and they scattered about the entrance to the dungeon when they encountered it. Torysen ordered that nobody was allowed to head down the stairs until they had investigated it properly. Shaywise fumed, but Treyjol sat her down, patting her on the back affectionately to try to keep her calm.


    After a minute or so, the small one, the band¡¯s cook, popped up, and shouted across the field, ¡°This was sealed!¡±


    Tory came up to him and looked at the runes he had been inspecting, ¡°What kind of seal? Would it be something a young warrior could have unlocked through force?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like it, Captain. You¡¯d need magical resonance with its pattern, and that would take an extremely accomplished caster with a lot of luck to hope to imitate.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s very possible they were captured by whatever lurks in this dungeon. Or maybe whatever force brought us into this world has the ability to open and close these entrances at will.¡±


    Shaywise stood up and marched over to the two of them with fury written on her face, ¡°We need to go down, now,¡± she demanded.


    <hr>


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky he didn¡¯t kill you, Demon,¡± Shayjol chastised, looking down on his battered and beaten friend.


    Mason had hardly landed a blow on the strong man, and had been beaten swiftly once the interrogation was over with. Now he simply had to keep Recovery active until his stamina, mana, and health were back to normal, which since there was no clear opportunity to escape this cell, he probably had plenty of time to do.


    He pouted, shaken by his own lack of strength. The amount of power that had surged through him after absorbing that skull, and acknowledging his new name, had seemed full of potential and inspired him to act recklessly. Now he felt much more like Mason, but the presence of Demon was still very real within him, merely subdued.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you flee? You could have escaped out of the entrance long before they ever caught you. That man is the only person in the castle-complex who seems to have any real strength,¡± Shay explained, staring at his despondent friend.


    He waited a little longer, than marched over and kicked Mason. It wasn¡¯t violent, but with enough force to knock him over. Mason got up and looked back at Shay, and Shay caught his first glimpse of the Demon glamour as it flickered with Mason¡¯s anger.


    ¡°I thought I was strong enough to get you out of here, Shay.¡±


    ¡°You are not. That man knew it too. He sensed you in the hallway, and left you because he predicted you would walk yourself down here anyways. You are a fool.¡±


    ¡°I want to be strong. I want to beat that calm look off the king¡¯s man¡¯s face, and I want to be able to protect the humans when they arrive here,¡± Mason insisted, moving closer to Shay, feeling his aggression pouring into every move.


    ¡°A fool cannot grow strong.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no fool,¡± Demon growled.


    ¡°You are a weak man who believes he is strong. So obviously you are a fool. I was wrong to think I should kill you. It would have been a mercy. A fool does not deserve¡­¡±


    Mason punched him, and Shay righted himself, glowering, and swung back. The two struck at each other again and again, but though they threw each other against the walls and left one another bloody, it was clear there was no killing intent. They both were more frustrated with themselves than the other.


    Finally they both sat roughly in opposite corners of the cell, and when they pulled their eyes off each other they turned to see the door wide open, a strange looking woman in a dirty dress staring at them with amusement.


    ¡°Normally they bring in guards to brutalize the prisoners, but they really found a bargain with the two of you. Come on now, it¡¯s time to get you out of here,¡± said Bazy, motioning for them to pick up the bags with their belongings and follow her. Everything was there except for the staff, which Mason assumed Kingsman had taken.


    The only guard remaining in the guard room was unconscious and pantsless, and though it took little imagination to guess what had happened there, Mason felt his mind automatically dragging out details and possibilities. He looked at the girl, scaled and feathered, and couldn¡¯t imagine what that would be like.


    ¡°Bazy, why are you here?¡± Mason asked, as Shay looked at him in confusion.


    ¡°How is it that you know this Bazy, Demon?¡±


    ¡°The brute scandalized me when I stumbled upon him in a hallway. It was very arousing,¡± Bazy answered for him. Mason shifted uncomfortably. ¡°But it only seemed right that I not let such a peculiar opportunity rot in the cellars. We¡¯ve been sealed into this castle for long enough, and if the two of you know where the exit is I believe it¡¯ll be much faster for my friends and I to follow you out than if we tried to search the whole complex ourselves.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. You can follow us, but the world outside is not much safer,¡± Shay said.


    ¡°Nevermind that, we¡¯re all survivors of a sort. Personally I¡¯ll just be glad to have myself a good cry far away from all this death down here.¡± Bazy¡¯s tone was steady, but there was something about her blunt attitude that made Mason sure she was genuine. Her ability to maintain a calm demeanor was impressive, and spoke of an intelligence that Mason had not seen in any of the bird-people he¡¯d interacted with yet. He¡¯d need to explore that further, later.


    They had hardly passed the threshold into the reception corridor in front of the throne room when they heard shouts, the rustle of metal fixtures on leather armor, and the familiar sound of blades being drawn from their sheaths. Bazy stepped back into the corridor even as Shay and Demon stepped forward, Shay with his axe and Demon wielding both of his daggers.


    Shay shouted and charged forward, startling the three guards that stood across the room, and Demon dived to the side behind a pillar, triggering Shadow Stalk so that he could sneak back into the open space without being spotted. Shay swung his axe like a baseball bat with both hands, launching a wave of force that staggered the guards, and then quickly spun around to get his axe back close to him to dodge the retaliation from the nearest of the three.


    Demon had made impressive time getting into the flank of the battle undetected, relishing in the opportunity to take advantage of his newfound strength even after being shown up by the Kingsman. He stuck his dagger in the side of Uno at the same time as Uno was trying to defend against a series of strikes from Shay.


    Uno cried out and then caught an axe swing with the leather on his arm, and Demon¡¯s Shadow Stalk stayed up since he wasn¡¯t actually seen. Moving swiftly to his next target, he kicked hard at Dos¡¯s knee to prevent him from getting an attack in on Shay, then moved further over to engage Tres.


    Tres caught on quickly though, and Demon had to bring his dagger up quickly to turn a quick jab aimed right at him. He felt his stealth drop but knew that was for the best before he drained his mana.


    ¡°We won¡¯t let you escape, Demon!¡± Dos shouted, turning after recovering from the kick and hearing the clash of Tres¡¯ and Demon¡¯s blades. Shay meanwhile swung hard at Uno, sending him stumbling backwards, and released a blast of force from behind Dos that was powerful enough to tumble him back to the ground.


    ¡°The Demon is not on the ground, feathers. And you should never turn from an opponent,¡± Shay mocked after landing a final debilitating strike on Uno. Dos rolled away from Shay so that he¡¯d have time to stand before Shay could move in on him, but he managed to move right in the way of Tres, giving Demon enough time to right his footing and lash out- short sword in his right hand now instead of the dagger.


    His strike didn¡¯t land, but the change in advantage still brought on a bout of strange curses from Tres, though he silenced quickly as the large door at the end of the hall opened up slowly.

 ~ Thirteen - Geralt

    Kingsman bellowed as he strode confidently into the room, ¡°I should have known I¡¯d have traitors in my midst. Leaving you two alive was a mistake I will not make twice.¡±


    The kingsman was flanked on both sides by two more guards, who kept pace with him rather than charging forward, and even the two guards in active combat, stepped back slightly to prevent interfering with this powerful warrior¡¯s quarry.


    He didn¡¯t hold the staff in his hands, but Demon could see it tied to his back with two thin straps, and he felt drawn to retrieve it in a way he had never experienced before. It took a force of willpower to prevent himself from charging straight for it, even knowing full well there were six guards ready to stop him at a moment¡¯s notice.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Demon stalled, holding up a hand and looking between Kingsman and Shay, hoping an idea would come to him.


    ¡°No,¡± was all he heard in return before a large wave of fire swept directly at the four fighters in the center. Shay, Tres, and Demon all dove out of the way, only mildly singed, but Dos was toast. He screamed as his leathers burst into flame and the acrid scent of burning feathers and scaly skin rose into the air, making Demon cough.


    That amount of power made Demon shake violently in fear. He couldn¡¯t win in a physical contest against this man, but he even had that kind of strength? It was no wonder Mana Blade was worth almost nothing against him. He ran for the corner of the room as fast as he could, and dived behind a pillar even as the Kingsman laughed.


    ¡°So you recognize how weak you are now? I don¡¯t understand the cruel joke of this world that a pathetic, untalented piece of trash like you was able to kill my king, but I will repay this world ten-fold. I will kill every last person that refuses to succumb to my will, and then I will rise to the next plane and I will continue to rise until I can get my vengeance on the despicable monsters that set up these Trials¡­¡±


    Demon peeked out from around a pillar, Shadow Stalk active at low mana consumption as all eyes turned to see the Kingsman¡¯s guards entering combat with three lightly armored and worse armed birdmen.


    ¡°This is for all the friends you killed, you asshole!¡± Shouted one of the enraged birdmen that he had encountered with Bazy. Demon saw Shovelknight land a rather impressive blow on one of the guards, but another began to lay into him, and his poor weapon was clearly not going to last long.


    Demon moved closer toward Kingsman even as he saw Shay finishing a fight with Tres and thanked the Trials that these birdmen made piss-poor warriors.


    Unfortunately, that was true even for the three on his side, and he grimaced as he watched them falling back. Their momentary distraction may have saved his life, but Demon hoped it wouldn¡¯t cost them theirs.


    Seeing Kingsman targeting the taller birdman, Merek, Demon picked up his speed. He lunged at Kingsman¡¯s back and slashed out viciously, Mana Blade flying ahead to draw his attention.


    The attack didn¡¯t cause any noticeable amount of damage, but Demon saw the staff¡¯s binding tear before it went clattering to the ground several feet away.


    ¡°Boy!¡± Kingsman shouted, turning stoically to where Demon rebounded from his latest attack. ¡°Your arrogance will be the death of you. Do you not even know what these Trials are?¡± He moved forward calmly, closing the distance to Demon with surprising speed.


    Kingsman raised his sword, but before he could target Demon he pivoted to deflect a strike from Shay, knocking the Darkest Night several feet backwards in the process. ¡°I am Geralt, of the Maledite. I was born into the Trials, raised to serve King Arlon as he conquered his first plane. The gods may have claimed his life with you as their tool, but even the strongest chisel breaks.¡±


    With that he planted his feet, and fissures on the ground knocked Demon from his defensive stance. As Demon struggled to right himself in time for the powerful blow, he felt a wave of power as an arrow shot forth across the room over his head, clashing effectively into Kingsman¡¯s raised weapon. Two more followed, killing two of the guards at the back of the room.


    Demon refocused on Kingsman, working to get his footing under control so he could prepare for another attack even as Shay shouted for the newly arrived archers to avoid targeting the unarmored birdmen.


    An arrow stuck out from the Kingsman¡¯s shoulder joint, and the man looked angry that anything had damaged him at all. He moved to resume his attack on Demon, but a blur stepped between them as Torysen appeared, glowing great-sword in hand.


    Torysen didn¡¯t wait for an attack to defend against, but instead raised stone roots from the fissures that Geralt had made around himself. These roots gripped tightly, holding him in place, and then Torysen brought forth the greatsword, hoping to catch Geralt off balance.


    Despite his uneven stance, Geralt hunkered down and managed to turn the direct assault. He showed almost no interest in the arrows that were loosed in his direction every few seconds, but instead matched Torysen¡¯s assault relentlessly.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Shay moved up from the side again, launching a powerful blast of force energy and then chopping hard at a joint in Geralt¡¯s plate armor from behind. Both landed, and the distraction from the force blast gave Torysen the opportunity to land a blow on Geralt¡¯s upper arm, and her magically enhanced weapon seemed to do minor, but definite damage.


    Geralt roared, and ripped his legs free of their restraints. With incredible speed, he moved from his central position in the room toward the side by a pillar, forcing the archers to move to find a location they could shoot from which wouldn¡¯t harm one of their allies.


    Demon, Shay, and Torysen advanced, each of them moving in to attack in a sequence that would have been impossible to defend against for any ordinary swordsman. Geralt somehow managed it, and only let the odd blow land against him.


    Recognizing the struggle of trying to maintain a direct assault against such a powerful defender, Demon put away his blades and retrieved the staff from the ground. There¡¯s another spell I haven¡¯t used in this yet. It¡¯s gotta do something useful, he considered urgently.


    He probed deeply with Mana Manipulation, and felt at a loss in front of the raw power of the staff. He shouldn¡¯t even be able to wield the item, he remembered. And certainly he still couldn¡¯t wield it properly, but if he could just convince it to unleash whatever strange, unknown power lurked in it¡­


    Torysen came in heavily with another assault, casting a strange spell as she did so that Demon could not identify by more than a surge of mana. But when Geralt deflected a particularly strong blow, she was repelled. Geralt stepped forward after her and struck hard and fast, closing in on landing a direct hit against Tory with every swing. He would have shattered her defense completely, but an almost impossible arrow came in hard over Tory¡¯s shoulder, rending a small opening in his armor.


    In a flash, Tory moved behind him during the distraction just as a hail of arrows bombarded him. He roared and the remaining arrows in the air scattered away from him from the force of it, and then he redoubled his efforts to crush Tory with imposing force, even while resisting the less effective strikes of Shay on his flank.


    Watching her lose steam again, Demon felt the urgency to intervene and unleashed all of the mana he had been pooling into the last unknown recess of his staff.


    Similar to the black swirling energy, a wave was unleashed, but it was tighter, denser than he had seen before, and most notably an emerald green. The energy seemed to dig into the wounds Torysen had made, ripping into Geralt¡¯s body. A signal from the staff told Demon that it was time to pull back on the spell, but rather than pulling the energy back toward himself, he sent it to Tory.


    She shouted as the energy struck her, but unlike the vicious digging it had done against Geralt, this seemed to surround and fill her. Her heavy breathing eased, and her eyes seemed to simultaneously widen and clear. Where she had been backing down from the fight, her efforts now redoubled, even as Geralt¡¯s defense slowed.


    ¡°This ends now!¡± She urged, as her blade made direct contact with the center of his chest, and he stumbled backwards. Shay followed her blow with several weaker attacks of his own, though only Tory¡¯s managed to pierce his armor and send him stumbling.


    Geralt backed up against the wall, sunken and glowering at them all, and Demon saw the buildup of mana within his arms. He¡¯d make one last desperate attack, then. Rather than fleeing, Demon ran straight up into the heat of the fight, and as Tory thrust her blade through Geralt¡¯s cracked chest piece, Demon unleashed every bit of energy he could force through the staff. The blade barely pierced his skin before Tory was blown to the ground from the tremendous energy Geralt emanated, but that small opening was deep enough for the strange spell Demon cast to break into his body.


    He felt the same feeling he had when consuming the last bit of the Darkest Night corpse from the campsite. The powerful, burning throes of mana, and then more chaotic, disorienting energy of Soul Steal.


    <hr>


    ¡°Soul Steal. Though I cannot say that I never believed my life would end to that strange ability, I did not believe I would end up within the soul of a child who knows nothing about the Trials and can hardly form a simple spell,¡± Geralt mused, as he paced before Mason within a deep, strange space buried somewhere in his chest or his mind.


    Geralt seemed comfortable here, familiar with the springs of light and energy that Mason could barely make out. In fact, the older man moved with a focus in this place, touching invisible things and demonstrating his control. Mason could do no more than kneel on both knees, bound by invisible ropes.


    ¡°Speak,¡± Geralt demanded, snapping an invisible cord and freeing Mason¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°What¡­ is this place?¡± was all he could manage.


    ¡°I should have said to speak with some intelligence. You ripped the soul from my body and yet you lack even the comprehension of the most basic premise of what is happening now? This is your soul,¡± Geralt¡¯s eyes scanned in the distance, ¡°Mason Nevels of Earth. Young Mason. Weak, young Mason. How short lived your race truly is. You¡¯ve burned up most of your life already, though I can see you¡¯ve stolen life from some rodents to try and make up for that.


    ¡°You¡¯re pathetic. Your poor comprehension of mana isn¡¯t even enough to convert the life you¡¯ve stolen into something you can use. Your body is frail. Your mind is empty. Your soul is bound.¡±


    The man grew silent, then looked at Mason¡¯s spiritual self in this strange place, chained and helpless. A quiet rage burned for a few moments, and then the man stormed forward, ¡°You did not have the strength to even approach my king!¡± he roared, moving to strike.


    His attack fizzled as it struck a barrier, inches from where Mason was chained. ¡°And yet you¡¯re defended. It seems you have luck, if nothing else. Reveal yourself, Protector!¡±


    An obsidian black man appeared right where the attack had fizzled, standing still as if he had been there all along. ¡°I am Mowrytal of the Darkest Night, Geralt of the Maledite. To watch you fight was humbling. I would not have been able to stand against you, not if my sister Torysen required help to best you. But I am strong in here. This boy¡¯s body is filled with my mana, was changed by it. That has made this a home to me. And through him, I will help my people, so you shall not harm him.¡±

 ~ Fourteen - Discussions

    Not one of the watchers present could use Soul Arts, but it was apparent to any being gifted with Mana Sight that what they had witnessed was far more than an exchange of that simple power. Mason¡¯s glamour flickered in his unconsciousness, and Torysen had to be held back by Treyjol every time his image began to mold back to his Darkest Night appearance.


    She demanded answers of everyone around- Shaywise, Treyjol, Shayjol, the bird-people, and even her own band. Her demands went unmet though; nobody could explain with any confidence, or any satisfactory answer, why this boy, Mason, or Demon, could take on her brother¡¯s mana signature and form even while unconscious and largely bereft of mana.


    Shayjol was weak, drained from fighting the Kingsman as well as from the stress of the day, but still he stood in front of Mason, axe out, daring Tory to step forward.


    ¡°Dearie have you considered that this boy saved your life from that brute?¡± Bazy asked gently, standing off to the side of the cluster of people trying to sort out their next moves. ¡°Seems awfully brotherly to me. Perhaps you should¡­¡±


    ¡°That is not my brother!¡± Tory shouted back, failing miserably at subduing her own anger. ¡°He was gone so long. I knew that there was a chance he had died. I knew he might not be okay. But this¡­¡± She spat past Treyjol and watched the glob land near Shayjol. ¡°This is wicked work. He¡¯s a demon.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s something unknown, something new. But there will be more like him soon. He has told us this himself,¡± explained Treyjol. ¡°Him and that staff ended this fight for us today. We should not make enemies where there could be peace.¡±


    Tory locked her eyes onto Treyjol¡¯s, flaring her nostrils and pursing her lips. ¡°You saw the spell he cast. If that was not soul magic, then I know nothing about the holy mana.¡±


    ¡°Soul magic or not, he came back for me when I was captured. He could have escaped without consequence,¡± Shayjol added. ¡°We are not on Marra, and this Demon does not know much. We cannot accuse him of our crimes when he has shown all intents of being a friend.¡±


    ¡°He has captured my brother¡¯s soul! How is that the intent of a friend?¡± Tory screamed, wrenching herself from Treyjol¡¯s grip.


    Shayjol grabbed both of her arms, ¡°Would you start a war? Look with your mana where we stand. This is the castle of a kingdom filled with mana. We could have a home if we can come to terms with these bird people, and you would start our new life at war with a race we know almost nothing about?¡±


    Lany chimed in from the corner, ¡°We¡¯re called the Biord, actually. And last time some non-Biord moved in we had a new king that you guys kind of killed. I¡¯m not really sure¡­¡±


    Merek hit him to keep him quiet, but Bazy laughed at them all before adding, ¡°Peace seems like the most palatable option, and as the representative of the Biord, I declare that I will not enter negotiations with any race that would do harm to a young Demon without hearing his side of the story first.¡±


    Tory stared at her with fierce eyes, then looked between Treyjol and Shay. ¡°This is damned. This Demon will change our people. Your Biord will change us too.¡±


    Shaywise spoke up quietly from Mason¡¯s side, ¡°We can only hope so. The Trials have not been kind to our people.¡±


    <hr>


    The two spirits eyed each other in contention, neither quite certain how to proceed, but nonetheless unwilling to back down. Mason could tell that this battle was for him, or over him, but there was nothing he could do. Even those few words he had managed earlier were a strain, and somehow he knew that his consciousness was never meant to be in this place.


    ¡°Mowrytal, what a ridiculous name.¡±


    ¡°I am the firstborn son of my father, Torytal, and my mother, Mowrysen. Our names remind us where we are from, and what makes us. Who is Geralt? Just a man.¡±


    ¡°I was the guardian of King Arlon, and I was to hold the greatest titles in the Trials. What use is a name given at birth? We are remembered by our lives afterwards, the ways we change and the ways we change the world. That is true strength. To win the Trials, the King and I were going to become a new form of life.¡±


    Mowry studied the blank, flat faced man across from him. His spirit was strong, every bit as strong as his body had been. Were it not for that staff, or for how outnumbered Geralt had really been, there was no reason this man should have died like this.


    ¡°It is unfair that you are here, Geralt, but this is your new form of life. Your king is gone, his soul has fled. Your soul is now the Demon¡¯s, as my soul is too. We may still have more to say in these trials, but it will not be our own mouths through which we speak.¡±


    ¡°I do the bidding of no man¡¯s but my king,¡± Geralt¡¯s tone was low. In a flurry of motion he was before Mowry, an energy filled blow thrust at his throat.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Mowry raised his hand and Geralt fell to the ground, inches from where Mason was bound. Mowry shook his head, crouching over the immobilized warrior, ¡°Your power here is not your own. I helped shape this place through my mana and my soul, so until Mason grows stronger, I am the caretaker of his strength.¡±


    Mowrytal left him then, moving in front of Mason and lifting his chin so that the two were making eye contact. ¡°I can see your motives, and you meant me no harm. Tell my sister that I forgive you, and that to help you is to help me.¡±


    <hr>


    The envoy from the Darkest Night- Tory¡¯s Band and Shayjol¡¯s family- were distributed among the residential rooms that had been maintained corpse-free throughout Geralt¡¯s bloody tirade. These rooms were much nicer than the rot-filled servant¡¯s quarters, with bedding made of unusual animal skins and even several different styles of cloth.


    Though Tory had originally demanded that the Darkest Night leave this place to commune with their people, Shaywise had interjected a less-emotional response. ¡°Why waste our time returning to our people without any idea of what possibilities we¡¯re bringing back? I would rather discuss with the lovely Miss Bazy, as the representative of her people, what options we have for peace.¡±


    Bazy had agreed, and called upon Lany, Merek, and Shovel to help show the envoy to some rooms, while the Biord returned to put away the mess from the battle. Thanks to the cover from the Roving Band archers, the only true casualties had been the guards, Geralt, and Mason if he failed to wake from his coma.


    The Roving Band, all but Tory and the small cook, had insisted on helping clean up the fight as well, as Treyjol carried away Mason and Shaywise helped her son limp away from the fight.


    And so the evening had been spent. A small meal that was unsatisfactory for everyone was prepared once the work was mostly done, and then everyone had retired to their quarters for rest.


    In the morning, a small council was drawn together- Torysen, Shaywise, and Bazy- to discuss terms. Tory¡¯s violet eyes were swollen, but her expression spoke more of anger than mourning, and for similar reasons Shaywise¡¯s face looked worn, as if she had not slept while trying to care for the unconscious Mason.


    In stark contrast, Bazy¡¯s feathers looked pruned, her scales shined, and her rag of a dress had been replaced with an attractive robe which only made her look shorter next to the much taller Darkest Night women. Bazy considered both of them carefully, then put on a kind expression and noted, ¡°You both need a drink.¡±


    Reaching behind her, she grabbed three steaming beverages from atop a counter at the far end of the meeting room, and placed them about the table. The women took tentative sips, but after mere moments, both of them seemed to have a little bit more perk to their faces.


    ¡°What¡­ is this delectable beverage?¡± Shaywise hazarded, taking another sip.


    ¡°It¡¯s distilled and boiled from a mushroom that we Biord cultivate. The Trials indicate that it actually raises most regeneration rates by a small degree, but its biggest benefit is that it provides a sort of energetic joy. It¡¯s really mild though, don¡¯t worry. I have no plans to impair either of your judgments,¡± Bazy spoke with the air of a dignitary- a far cry more intelligent than any of her race appeared to be so far.


    ¡°I appreciate your sharing this with us, Bazy. It¡¯s been a trying day or so. When my son disappeared¡­¡± Shaywise began.


    Bazy put up a hand and nodded curtly, ¡°I can¡¯t even begin to list how many we have lost. I am not sure how much was explained to you by the other Biord, but let me give a brief summary of what has happened to us since entering the Trials.¡±


    Bazy sat now, and her robe flowed down around her chair, ¡°Before the Trials, we Biord were the simple remnants of what legend claims was a powerful species. In our history we flew through and conquered the skies. Another leg of our ancestry even dominated the land through sheer size and force. We evolved though- smaller, weaker, and more foolish. It seemed to be a defense against the number of enemies that tried to subjugate us.


    ¡°When we found this kingdom, it had been empty for ages. We were still a formidable race back then, but we took comfort in these pre-carved homes, and eventually we became more comfortable in our mana-infused caves than in the skies, or over the land. When the Trials came, we were not ready for them at all.


    ¡°But one man was. The man Geralt calls King Arlon. He wielded a powerful staff, and performed magic we could not dream of. He began to train guards, and took over the castle, and there was hardly any resistance, because the only people strong enough to fight him were Geralt- his sworn man- and his guards, who owed their everything to him.


    ¡°He was not a good king. He cared nothing for our lives, and demanded much of us. But when the monsters began breaking into our caves, he taught us to fight them.


    ¡°I was chosen as one of his servants, and for whatever reason, he took a liking to me. He taught me about the Trials, about other planes, about ruling. I guess this was enough to provide skills to me, and the Trials gave me challenges, which gave me focus points, which gave me vastly improved intelligence and willpower than almost anyone among the Biord.


    ¡°When the Demon came, I was not unhappy to see Arlon dead. But what came next was much worse. If Arlon was not a good king, Geralt was a villainous one. He was always stronger than Arlon, but for some reason could only ever view himself as a servant to him, and he went into a rage at his loss. He ordered almost all of our servants killed, and ended the lives of many guards himself.


    ¡°Worst though, was that he sealed the castle. Only that staff, the one your friend Mason now carries, can unlock those seals. There may only be a few dozen alive in the castle now, but in the caves beyond, there may still be hundreds of my people if the monsters have not taken them all by now. This is why I hope for peace,¡± Bazy finished her explanation with a calm and serious expression, certain she had impressed the reality of her people¡¯s situation.


    The two Darkest Night both understood clearly the bits of her story she had left out; If her people were strong, and intelligent, and self-sufficient, she could likely have taken the staff from Mason, undone the seals, and rallied the Biord to push out these strangers. But plagued by monsters and weak as they were, an alliance would be worth almost any cost.

 ~ Fifteen - Apologies

    Before either of the other two women could respond to Bazy¡¯s story, the door slammed open and all three turned to see Mason with no glamour about him, and only the faintest amount of mana within him. Shaywise saw that Tory¡¯s hand was on her weapon, but hadn¡¯t noticed whether she had taken that position when she first heard the door, or when she saw who was there.


    Mason glanced about the room, and then stared directly at Torysen. His hands empty at his sides, he walked up to her and knelt, allowing several moments to pass by in silence. His heart pounded, and he hoped Tory would be off her guard enough to take his next words peacefully.


    ¡°Torysen, I owe you an apology, and bring you a message. The rumors are true, I took Mowrytal¡¯s soul with the Staff of Mardun, and he exists within me somehow. He¡¯s been helping me, shaping my growth. He said that if you help me, it will help him,¡± Mason¡¯s words fumbled out awkwardly, but he kept his eyes on Tory¡¯s even as he knelt.


    ¡°Stand,¡± she said gruffly, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him to his feet. She slapped him hard with her free hand but nobody, including Mason, made a move in response. There was a violet flash in Mason¡¯s eye as his glamour triggered for a moment, and he could see Tory visibly soften.


    ¡°I won¡¯t get in your way, Demon. Shaywise, come to terms with Miss Bazy and discuss with...¡± she hesitated, ¡°Mason about his plans for his race. I need time.¡±


    Mason looked at Shaywise and she nodded a silent approval as Tory passed from the room. When the silence grew stale, Bazy started loudly, ¡°Alright, smooth skin, sit down and let¡¯s talk.¡±


    She gave an even briefer background on what had happened here, and then finished with her point, ¡°So, Demon, will you unseal the castle so that we can try to salvage what¡¯s left of the city?¡±


    He noticed Shaywise looking at him nervously. Though they had some background together, she had only known Mason a few days before he and Shayjol had disappeared. Mason¡¯s true motives and personality were a distinct mystery.


    Looking back at Bazy he said, ¡°I will absolutely unseal the castle, but I would like more of the Darkest Night there before I do, if Shaywise thinks they¡¯ll agree. If what you say is true, then it¡¯s possible the rest of the city is overrun with monsters, and we might lose the one remaining piece that isn¡¯t. But if we have warriors guarding the entrances, we might stand a chance of resisting that, right?¡±


    ¡°Most of the monsters I heard about were not very powerful. Arlon used to go down and fight and he would come back complaining that it was hardly worth his time. If the Darkest Night are on the same lines as Tory, or even just her archers, I think they could easily prevent the monsters from invading,¡± Bazy explained casually. ¡°But you do realize that you¡¯re asking me to accept an occupation by the Darkest Night. I know they want the mana we have here. If I ask them to defend our city, they won¡¯t leave.¡±


    ¡°We only know a few dozen Biord are alive anyways. If the city has been ransacked I¡¯m pretty sure we could find space for a small fighting force. Honestly if we just cleared out the servant quarters¡­¡± Mason shook his head, trying to remember who he was on Earth, and measure him against who he was becoming, ¡°We could not only lay your friends to rest, but we could keep their memories alive by doing some good with their homes.¡±


    ¡°I have no doubt Tory could bring more of the Darkest Night here, but they will not want to be second class to the Biord. My people know their strength, and they are proud of it,¡± Shaywise added, a small look of satisfaction on her face.


    ¡°They would not be second. We Biord need help, and training. This city was hospitable, we lived easy lives and lacked ambition, but this world has no place for us if we are not able to change our ways. Train us, use us, and we will welcome you into our home.¡±


    ¡°I will ask the council for their guidance, but with the amount of mana running through this place, I think they will be glad for an opportunity to move some of our people here. Our mines cannot sustain the population indefinitely out on the surface.¡±


    With that settled, they both looked back at Mason and Bazy spoke up, ¡°And what about your people? I¡¯ve been told that you are only the first here. What can we expect?¡±


    Mason shook his head and looked down, ¡°I really don¡¯t know. I only have a vague message to go off of, so I don¡¯t know if my people will come by the hundreds, thousands, or millions. My race adapts, it survives through intelligence and creativity, but we cannot use mana and don¡¯t seem to even have the physical strength of the Darkest Night that I¡¯ve met so far.


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m worried that if monsters appear when the humans do, we¡¯ll be killed outright without a chance.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Not if you have our assistance,¡± Shaywise countered, ¡°Even if we are able to move our city in with the Biord, we won¡¯t be able to entirely abandon our starting city, and with the monsters and the Corrosi to the north, we need all the assistance we can get repelling them.


    ¡°I can see in your mana how much you¡¯ve changed in just the past few days. If the rest of you humans are so adaptable, it is very possible that an alliance between our three races could bring us some marginal stability.¡±


    ¡°Then what? We live happily ever after? We humans are,¡± Mason looked for a word, ¡°stubborn? I guess. We won¡¯t be happy settling. If they grow strong, they will want to expand, but I don¡¯t have the faintest clue what¡¯s further than your cabin in the woods, Shaywise.¡±


    ¡°The Trials will keep them busy. If they grow strong, the Trials will just send tougher challenges. That is why Roving Bands like Torysen¡¯s exist- to hopefully find the next challenge before it finds us.¡±


    <hr>


    Mason leaned over a bowl that was carved into a recess in the back of his quarters. He splashed cool spring water on his face to try and focus himself, but even that his mind began comparing to the swirling, violent energies that he had grown familiar with over the last week.


    Realizing that there were two souls, two sentient beings somehow captive within him had pushed him far beyond the limits that his mental health could naturally maintain. Still, there were dangers about, so for now he would grit his teeth and bear it when he had to. That was what led him to Tory, and that even more stressful discussion of the future fate of humanity.


    He almost wanted to laugh, or cry, but most of all he wanted to sleep. However, something told him that when he did, he would have to confront Mowry and Geralt again. Instead, he had paced his room, bit his nails, rinsed himself with water, and tried desperately not to scream.


    Mason missed his campsite. Even though its memory was somewhat tainted by the soul he had stolen from there, it was still the closest thing he had to a home on this plane. He had been suffering then too, but that was just pain, not this mental confusion and agony he was handling now. Fight small animals, gather nuts and berries, train up skills- it was a simple challenge with clear rewards.


    Trying to coordinate three completely foreign groups forming an alliance to survive against threats unknown¡­


    He pulled up his status screen, reminded that his skills were something he hadn¡¯t checked after all of the busyness of the last day. He had unlocked a new ability: Stamina Drain- though he wasn¡¯t surprised after seeing its effects. And beyond that, mana manipulation, glamour, recovery, mana blade, and staff and blade specializations had all improved by one point, while shadow stalk had improved by two.


    It wasn¡¯t a very noticeable improvement, but it was a start.


    His more exciting notification was that he had completed his challenge.


    Challenge Complete: Shadowstalking! You move through shadows as if they are the true place where you belong.


    You have become a Magical Shadow Slayer.


    You gain a focus point in Agility.


    You gain a focus point in Creativity.


    You gain a focus point to spend how you would like.


    Mason immediately dropped the free point into intelligence.


    You¡¯ve unlocked the challenge: Spellcraft. Mana opens the door to a great many things, but can you step through the doorway?


    The new, vague challenge frustrated Mason, but at least it was a challenge which would drive forward his abilities with magic. And the last challenge had led to him unlocking a skill, too. While he considered the possible ways he could complete the challenge, he heard a knock on his door.


    Shayjol entered the room, scowling as he sat on the edge of Mason¡¯s bed. He didn¡¯t speak, but Mason hadn¡¯t greeted him, only turned to stare.


    Mason splashed some more water on his face then stood across from Shay, mind racing through the possible reasons Shay might be there.


    When he was about to speak, Shay interrupted, ¡°I am grateful that you came back for me, and glad that the old man did not kill you. I am not certain we would have been able to fight him in any other context than with so many reinforcements, and your abilities were¡­ helpful.¡±


    Mason sighed, ¡°None of you are comfortable with what I did. None of Tory¡¯s roving band would even talk to me when I woke up, other than to point me toward where she was. Bazy and Shaywise seemed to handle it alright but Bazy is a little odd and your mother is more focused on moving forward than anything.¡±


    ¡°Soul magic is forbidden and rare on Marra,¡± Shay explained, focusing more on the gentle pool of mana he was forming in front of him than on Mason¡¯s mana signature, ¡°Tory would have taken Geralt¡¯s life, and he would have never moved again. His soul would have been free to return to the Beyond. But you claimed his soul, and either he lives on within you, or all that he is will become energy for you to use. This is not honorable.¡±


    Activating Mana Sight, Mason could almost look directly at Shay without feeling blinded. These people were so bright, full of unusual energies and certain of things which he could hardly understand. It would be a never-ending culture shock, made almost worse by the fact that this land seemed to be nobody¡¯s true home. ¡°I haven¡¯t used him for energy. I don¡¯t even know how I would. He¡¯s alive, within me. He wanted control, but Mowry is running the show. Mowry protected me.¡±


    Shay¡¯s violet eyes zipped back and forth across Mason now, and his lips moved in an incantation that Mason could hardly hear. ¡°Your mana is very unusual. It might be that you are telling the truth. There are pockets where the energy flows in a very different way than the rest. You are not at harmony with the souls within you.¡±


    He chuckled, ¡°Of course not. I ripped them from their bodies and made them mine. I didn¡¯t even know I was doing it- either time, if you¡¯d believe me.¡±


    ¡°Then you should do what you can to make amends. A war within will tear you apart, and I think Torysen would be infuriated to lose the opportunity to tear you apart herself.¡±

 ~ Sixteen - Soulbound

    Shayjol showed Mason how to meditate and follow his mana to that strange room in his soul.


    ¡°Welcome back,¡± Mowry said calmly as Mason¡¯s head rose. He was still shackled invisibly on the ground, but he felt more present than the last time. Entering this place on purpose must have made a difference.


    ¡°I¡¯m impressed you¡¯ve managed to not get yourself killed since you woke up. Perhaps you¡¯re not entirely worthless, Demon,¡± Geralt seethed, reclining on what looked like a glowing couch of mana that he had materialized.


    ¡°I¡¯ve only been awake for less than a day,¡± Mason protested.


    ¡°We know,¡± Geralt replied.


    The three were silent as the two spirits waited to see why Mason was there. Seeing he would get no help, Mason decided to get right to it.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know what the Staff of Mardun was capable of. Honestly, since I was brought into these¡­ Trials?... I¡¯ve just kind of done what I could. I mean, I cooked and ate some wild cats. This hasn¡¯t really been the luxurious power trip I would have thought entering a world of magic might be.¡±


    ¡°I would not say either of us are very pleased with how the Trials have treated us either. There are certain comforts to this soul place,¡± Mowry gestured to the couch that Geralt had summoned, ¡°But we are slaves, nonetheless. Geralt has agreed to an accord that we do not try to destroy one another, but as for you, we have yet to decide how to proceed.¡±


    ¡°Can I free you?¡± Mason asked, an uncharacteristic innocence in his voice and face.


    ¡°I was dead, and you consumed me wholly. That is why you have gained what little power I have, and what allows me to act as custodian to your soul. Geralt however is distinct. You could possibly purge his soul from your own, but it would require great skill.¡±


    ¡°Which you lack, surprising no one,¡± Geralt complained. ¡°You might burn my soul up for energy if you tried, but I¡¯m confident that it would kill you in the process,¡± He looked thoughtful, ¡°At least then I could be assured of my revenge for killing my king and me.¡±


    Mason¡¯s face scrunched up as he looked at the large, lounging man. He was distinctly uncomfortable, but he couldn¡¯t come to any clarity on his full thoughts. There was definitely guilt in there- after all, he had murdered the man. But Geralt was also a pretty awful man, with plenty of murders under his own conscience. And anyways, if they were here, having this discussion, was it really murder at all?


    It was probably something much worse.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Mason mustered, trying to arrange his thoughts into words that might make this complicated issue less difficult. ¡°I guess I meant to kill you, Geralt, but to let your soul do whatever souls normally do. I meant no harm at all to you, Mowry. I guess you were just¡­¡±


    ¡°An energy source,¡± Mowry offered, with an expression near to amusement. ¡°I also do not know where souls go after death, so this continued existence is a small comfort. Being a soul is not entirely unfulfilling either, and through your eyes I have seen my sister, alive and well.¡±


    Mason sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his bindings. ¡°Can I get unbound? It might be easier to apologize if I wasn¡¯t locked up.¡±


    Mowry closed his eyes and made a gesture with his hands, ¡°No. It is only through the work that I have done that you are even able to enter this place. Your species does not lend itself to works of the soul or of magic.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not particularly strong or sturdy, either,¡± Geralt added, glad to demean his captor.


    ¡°Is there any way I can fix that? Some magical quest to gather the horn of an almost extinct dragon that will grant me greater soul magic?¡±


    ¡°You already possess a legendary quality staff with Soul Stealing magic. I do not think artifacts or items will solve your problem,¡± Mowry said.


    ¡°He means you¡¯re weak, boy.¡± Geralt¡¯s mood soured and he jumped off of his chair which vanished on its own. He stomped toward Mason, ¡°I am not merely chastising you. You are weak, and frail, and lack even the most basic abilities. Your one spell that you can cast without the staff is an atrocity. You just fling your mana at your enemies? What is the point?¡±


    Mowry¡¯s whole soul was at attention, ready to restrain Geralt if he grew dangerous, but the large man just leaned over to match his eye to Mason¡¯s and said, ¡°The Trials are no man¡¯s friend. I was born into them, trained from a child, introduced to King Arlon and told to guard him as he was sent from the plane to grow stronger. And then you manage to kill us both without even having a damned idea what you were doing.


    ¡°Do you think your ignorance makes it better? It¡¯s an insult.¡±


    Geralt vanished and Mowry visibly relaxed. Walking over to Mason, he too crouched low. ¡°He is angry, and reasonably so. But nevertheless, he will not harm you for now while I am here. But you must grow stronger, this is not a question. If you do not, you will die.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He made several more gestures with his hands through the air before continuing to speak. ¡°Teaching magic to a being who could not even handle mana will not be an easy task. I was not a master- I merely knew what spells I thought would keep me safe, but even to that point they did not serve me well enough.¡±


    His hands continued to flash, and finally several glowing lines formed in the air. ¡°You will obsess over this rune until you know everything about it. You can touch it with both your soul and mana, and I will maintain it as well as I can while you do so.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, what does that even mean?¡± Mason asked.


    Mowry sighed, ¡°This is the true form of a spell. It is a pattern that you can invoke with mana to create an effect. Currently you throw your mana about, but that is not only wasteful, but weak. Learn this rune, and we can begin to train your soul and body in the ways of magic.¡±


    <hr>


    "Did you find common cause with the souls you consumed, Demon?" Shay asked with feigned innocence.


    After making a mental note to figure out where he really stood with Shay, Mason shook his head. "Geralt, the kingsman, despises me. Torysen''s brother Mowry seems to be on my side though. I think he''s decided that trying to use me makes more sense than railing and rebelling from the afterlife."


    Shay nodded once, "A reasonable decision. What help does he offer?"


    "Well he''s doing something to my soul, which I guess is why I''m able to see him and Geralt at all. But he also showed me something..." Mason thought hard, "A rune? For some reason it''s hard to focus on. Like, I can almost picture it as a symbol, but when I try to trace it out in my head it changes and I can''t understand where the lines go at all."


    "The runic language is meant for mana, not for drawings," Shay explained.


    "That actually brings up something interesting. Shay, if you can only see through Mana Sight, what can you see? If I make a scratch against a wall, can you see that? Or do you only see where mana actually flows?"


    "You humans seem like very dumb children. Mana permeates all things, so we can see all things," Shay''s face betrayed his lack of confidence in what he said. "On Marra, there was mana in abundance. The world radiated with it, and everything was visible. Here it is much darker. We must project mana ourselves in order to see clearly, and it can be very taxing. This city is rich in mana, and I feel better than I have since I entered the Trials."


    "When I use Mana Sight I just see blinding lights everywhere. I can hardly even look at you, Shay."


    "A very dumb, very blind child. Can you show me the rune?" Shay asked, returning the subject to where it was.


    Mason screwed up his face in concentration, feeling out the small pool of mana inside of him and trying to comprehend its movements. "I''ve got nothing for you, Shay," he finally admitted. "I can''t even remember what it looked like, let alone try to recreate it."


    "To kill you would be a mercy. I am glad I let you live. Watching you struggle is a pleasure."


    "You sound like Geralt," Mason chided.


    "An evil man. Perhaps not a fool. I do not envy him his death, but I would not have begrudged him it even if I had the choice."


    Mason ignored him, "About this rune though. If Mowry is holding it in my soul, is there a way that I can retrieve that?"


    Shay sighed, then Mason felt an unusual sensation as Shay''s mana reached out and into Mason. "Do not steal my soul, Demon. I do not like that I am doing this, but you are too dumb to guide your mana on your own." Suddenly, the bit of Mason''s mana that led its movements was drawn up in Shay''s much more powerful flow.


    His awareness shifting, Mason was aware of the room within him that held Mowry. He saw energies flowing and circulating and felt his own identity obscure for a moment. Then he could feel the rune, and Shay''s energy released, the dark boy standing and turning away as if embarrassed.


    "We do not touch one another save for very rare, special occurrences. You will tell no one about this. Did you see the rune?" Shay asked, still looking away.


    "I uh, I think so yeah. I can kind of touch it, but it¡¯s unclear."


    "Study it. You will need some strength if you are to speak to my people on the human''s behalf."


    Mason took a deep breath and activated Focus, then reaching into himself he activated mana manipulation, and felt that warm energy within him resisting his control. He Focused harder, and then slowly, steadily, it became more receptive to his suggestions.


    His awareness was near the rune, so he guided the mana into it, imagining his mana like the tip of a pencil, and began trying to trace along the pseudo-3D image he had of the rune. Not unlike trying to paint an eel while it was still in water, his mana pointer kept sliding off the rune, and every little distraction - an itch on his nose or the thought that he heard someone in the hallway - was enough for him to lose control and have to wrestle with the bit of mana.


    In less than ten minutes, he had broken into a significant sweat, and his head was pounding as his stamina wore down. He had gained two points in mana manipulation, and one in focus, which he considered pretty remarkable gains for the brief exercise.


    But he knew nothing about the rune. In fact, if anything, he understood it less than when he had just glimpsed it in front of Mowry.


    Mason considered that the shifting, unsteady nature of it represented something like that it wasbeyond 3D, but the idea of it seemed too uncertain. He wasn''t very gifted in physics, so even if he tried to understand it that way, the path was limited. Perhaps it was easier to just think of it as the nature of magic- fickle, ever changing, and difficult to grasp.


    The way Shay had acted, it seemed as if a rune like this were somehow elementary, and he wondered if this was something they would learn and practice in the Darkest Night equivalent of school. He was a very dumb child, indeed. Mason needed time to develop this skill so that he wouldn''t be introduced to the council of the Darkest Night as the inept and inadequate new species, the hot new race ready for subjugation or destruction.


    But even that skill alone was hardly enough. Mason had learned quickly that even with the assistance this world provided to helping him fight, he was still untalented even in that regard. Fighting the boar with Shay had been exciting, but he had mostly just hidden and stabbed. He could hold his own against the Biord, too, but even Bazy admitted that Biord were pretty much an embarrassment even where they came from.


    So he was at least not the most embarrassing being around. There was a possibility he was capable of fighting one on one against Shay, but even that he doubted.


    Musings over, Mason reactivated mana manipulation and tried to engage with the rune again, but less than two minutes later he was exhausted once more. He wanted to shout from frustration, but settled with laying down, trying his best to rest angrily.


    His childishness made him laugh though, and in that there was a small sense of relaxation. He triggered Recovery and let his stamina fill back up so he could prepare for another attempt.

 ~ Seventeen - Beating

    The Darkest Night family, Mason, and the Roving Band all set out for the city of the Darkest Night. There was a lot to be discussed, and planned, with the council, and the city was several days away with a comfortable pace.


    Mason sat next to Shay by the fire of the first night¡¯s campsite, chewing heartily at a serving of fire boar that Shaywise and Treyjol had donated to the Roving Band. While he ate, he listened to Leornal, the band¡¯s best archer, and the cook, Clearsay, discussing what they missed most about Marra.


    ¡°I just miss being able to hop down to a store and get any ingredient I needed. Meals and rituals both! I can¡¯t even perform a simple Embellishment ritual on my cloak here without having to hunt down some strange root and then waste a whole batch of mana to purify it into a ritual component,¡± Clearsay complained, his cloak laid out in his lap while all he wore were a standard leather outfit.


    ¡°If embellishments are all you can think of, you¡¯ve got it wrong. I¡¯ll second you on the cooking ingredients though. This fireboar may be delicious but we¡¯ve had some plant stews lately that made death not seem so bad,¡± Leornal joked.


    ¡°What¡¯s an embellishment?¡± Mason finally decided to ask, having heard them discussed among the archers earlier in the day¡¯s travels.


    All eyes turned to him, and he felt suffocated by the amount of mana being pushed his direction as they tried to get a better look at him with their violet, Mana Sighted eyes. ¡°How do you not know what an embellishment is? You have one on your cloak,¡± Clearsay questioned.


    Mason took his cloak off and looked at it more closely. It was just black as far as he could see. It made him feel a little ridiculous to wear it, especially with the Demon glamour he¡¯d developed, but it was warm in the nights and breezy during the hot days, so it paid its dues. Finally, he responded, ¡°I don¡¯t see it.¡±


    Shayjol nudged him in the side, ¡°Use Mana Sight, you child.¡±


    Mason shrugged and flipped it on. With all of the mana that had been sent his way, and the presence of the mana-rich Roving Band, and the fireboar all around, Mason felt like his eyes were going to burn out from the intensity. He activated Focus and willed it to dull, and after a moment he was able to focus just enough on his cloak to see patterns in the light, before everything flared brightly again and he had to disable Mana Sight altogether.


    ¡°Is it just a painting of sorts on the cloak with mana? I really can¡¯t look at it that closely, everything is very intense when I use mana sight.¡±


    ¡°Embellishments are like spell runes but for less powerful uses,¡± Leornal started.


    ¡°They¡¯re decorative, largely,¡± continued Clearsay. ¡°You perform an Embellishment ritual when you want to do something elaborate and permanent, but a decent skill manipulating mana can go pretty far if you just want to decorate. It¡¯s what makes each of us stand out. You can always read someone¡¯s mana signature, but in a crowd of people sometimes it¡¯s just easier to look for the right embellishment.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention it¡¯s much less invasive to avoid probing too deeply with your mana against someone you don¡¯t know very well,¡± Treyjol explained, walking up. ¡°The embellishment Shaywise put on your cloak is simple. It represents the outsider who is made welcome. We have an old tale we tell our children about that, and we will have to share it with you later. But for now, Torysen would like to see you.¡±


    Mason nodded and got to his feet, wrapping the cloak around himself. He went over to Tory¡¯s tent- no larger than any of the other tents in the band, but marked by an extra flap of fabric above it that Mason now assumed carried an embellishment.


    When he found her, Tory was sitting cross legged beyond her tent, and though her eyes were closed, she seemed to know her company had arrived. Speaking softly, she said, ¡°I want to speak with my brother.¡±


    He grimaced, ¡°I can¡¯t help you with that. He¡¯s within me, but I don¡¯t think I can let him speak. At least, I don¡¯t know how to. All of this is very new to me, and honestly, he is the one who is showing me how to develop those skills.¡±


    Tory didn¡¯t look angry, but there was a certain sadness to her features, one that did not look fresh. ¡°I should kill you for what you¡¯ve done to him,¡± she said impassively.


    ¡°It seems there¡¯s a lot of reasons I should die, or should be dead. But I¡¯m just not ready to go that way yet,¡± Mason replied.


    ¡°You say my brother is helping you, his killer, grow strong?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not his killer, and yes, he¡¯s helping me. But whatever his opinions are of me, or what his goals are, I don¡¯t really know,¡± Mason avoided her eye, uncomfortable enough with these circumstances without facing the sister of one of his captured souls directly.


    ¡°He was fond of saying, ¡®Whatever circumstances you find yourself in, all you can do is respond.¡¯ I can only imagine that¡¯s why he¡¯s helping you,¡± she closed her eyes tightly, as if fighting back a headache.


    She was more sullen than she had been when Mason apologized. ¡°I resented the Trials for a long time. I just wanted things to be like how they used to be. Mowry though... he seemed to accept this place immediately. That¡¯s why he volunteered to scout so far ahead by himself. It was brave, but ultimately worthless. He wasn¡¯t strong enough, just more sure of himself than anyone else. It¡¯s been a long time since we¡¯ve let anyone scout by themselves.¡±


    Mason said nothing, unsure really of what could help. But Torysen continued, ¡°I want to execute you. I think you should know that if you¡¯re going to begin training with me. We will not use training blades, and though I will do my best to hold back, if you die while we spar I won¡¯t shed a second thought about it.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Her expression brooked no argument, and she waited for him to acknowledge what she was telling him. Instead, Mason looked at her bewildered, ¡°What? Train me?¡±


    ¡°Mowrytal is within you teaching you whatever he can, and helping you is the only way I know to help him. So I¡¯m going to teach you how to fight so you can¡¯t ruin whatever is left of my brother¡¯s plans. This is non-negotiable.¡±


    ¡°Then I guess I accept,¡± Mason said, suddenly very afraid of the rest of their journey.


    Their training would start tomorrow at dawn with some simple exercises that he would be expected to practice while travelling for the following day, Torysen warned. But for now, Mason had an evening to pass, and he decided to give the rune another go.


    Obsess over the rune, he thought, and considered the implications. It had been on his mind all day, those twisting motions and the never straight lines. The more he tried to nail down what it looked like, the less he felt like he understood its form, and he found it slightly maddening.


    Mowrytal must be laughing, Mason thought. He had kept the rune presentable within Mason¡¯s soul for a full day, and yet he couldn¡¯t even grasp its basic shape. It started with a long sloping curve up and then folded back into the distance only to return and curve again¡­.


    With or without mana manipulation, he couldn¡¯t track with the rune. He considered just pumping mana into it and seeing what happened, but a small piece of intuition told him that was a dangerous idea. Even though pumping mana in unhealthy doses had worked to solve most of his problems up until this point.


    He activated Focus and mana manipulation and wore himself out repeatedly trying to make sense of this single, supposedly simple, rune. He wondered if this came easy to the mana-born races. He drifted off to sleep with Recovery active.


    <hr>


    Still tired from focusing on the rune, Mason woke to a rough kick in the side from the tall and dark Torysen. Looking up at her from below, Mason took in her appearance like he hadn¡¯t been able to in the busyness of the last few days. She was thin for a Darkest Night, but even so her build leaned toward strong shoulders which, paired with her angular features and height, gave her the look of someone very capable in a fight.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look ready to fight, which means you must be ready to die,¡± Tory drew her sword and pointed it at Mason, ¡°What if I were an attacker? Would you continue to lay there and gawk at me?¡±


    ¡°Well if the attackers were strong enough to get past your watchmen without them even raising an alarm, my odds aren¡¯t very good anyways, right?¡± Mason joked.


    She kicked him again, ¡°Get up, idiot.¡±


    Mason rolled away from her and hopped to his feet. He wasn¡¯t wearing much since even the evenings were warm in this place, and he felt rather safe in camp. Looking at Tory, he saw her looking him up and down, and imagined the she was making guesses on his strength, or just assessing her first time seeing a human body. He would have been self-conscious if not for the fact that the sparse diet and exercise of the last few days had left him in better shape than he had ever achieved on Earth.


    She stuck around as he scrabbled into his clothes- rougher than cotton but sturdier as well- and grabbed his three blades and his staff. Picking each of them up one at a time, he was grateful for his improved strength in the Trials. It would have been annoying to carry so many items with his weak Earth self.


    Seeing that he was finally dressed and ready, Tory walked out of the tent and addressed one of her archers, who pointed off a ways. The two combatants moved that direction, and along the way Shayjol joined pace with them with a quiet, ¡°Good morning.¡±


    In a mostly level area, Shayjol stepped off to the side as Tory pointed at a spot on the ground and commanded, ¡°Stand there and defend yourself,¡± before walking about 10 yards away.


    She turned back toward Mason, who stood awkwardly with his staff in his hands, and drew her sword.


    The next thing Mason knew, he was on his back, a sword to his throat and Torysen crouched on top of him. He had hardly seen her move.


    He coughed as his chest processed the impact and shoved her off of him, scrambling away and back up to his feet. Torysen stepped forward and slid her leg under his, pushing him gently and sending him face first back into the dirt.


    Shayjol laughed from the side, ¡°Our great Demon, brought down by a sweep of the leg from a simple Roving Band leader.¡±


    Mason spat out dirt, ¡°What the hell? Is this training or revenge? You didn¡¯t even move that fast when you were fighting Geralt!¡±


    ¡°Geralt responded to my movements because he was a great warrior. You might be qualified to carry my bags. Get up,¡± She spoke roughly, grabbing Mason¡¯s cloak and pulling him to his feet.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try something different,¡± she suggested. ¡°Hit me with whatever weapon you think you can.¡± Tory had her weapon put away now, and stretched her arms out wide, leaving herself unbalanced and open to attack.


    ¡°Alright, fine,¡± Mason said, back on his feet. He watched her carefully, unsure where to strike since every bit of her looked like a weak point in that silly stance. Finally he just planted his feet, and swept his staff out, aiming to smack her in the face with it.


    Tory¡¯s body coiled in tightly, her feet sliding in the dirt as she reached out to grab the staff, yanking it toward herself and pulling Mason into a stumble. Her knee came up and caught him in the chest, and he wheezed as he double over, having let go of his staff completely.


    ¡°This is a waste of my time. You may have my brother¡¯s soul, but you do not have his strength, or his skill.¡±


    Mason¡¯s eyes were watering and his chest ached terribly, but he stood back up and grabbed his staff from Tory¡¯s outstretched hand. ¡°Hit me again,¡± he managed through the pain.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be my pleasure.¡±


    After several more rounds of Torysen trouncing Mason, the skin on his face was raw from hitting the ground so many times, and he was certain that the bruising in his chest would require medical treatment, even with his improved vitality.


    Nonetheless, he stood up everytime, and Shayjol would occasionally give him suggestions of ways to adjust his stance or hold his staff in a way that would allow him to defend more gracefully.


    It may have been over two dozen tries later, but this time when Torysen stood at a distance, Mason willed all of his stamina into Focus. He didn¡¯t need to be able to put up a fight, he just needed to be able to see her move, and maybe even counter her somewhat.


    As if time were moving a fraction slower, Mason saw the moment where Tory stepped forward. He realized her step was powerful enough that she almost bounded across the distance to him. That was why he couldn¡¯t see her move- it was almost a single rapid motion, rather than the multiple steps it would have taken him to cross the same distance.


    He planted his feet and lowered his body, and by the time Tory made it to him, he was midswing. A small amount of mana began moving into his staff in the minute second that it made contact with her, but her speed and force wrenched the staff backwards out of his hand even as Mason went sprawling backwards into the dirt. He laughed out loud, exhausted, but exhilarated by the miniscule progress he had made.


    The training had improved staff specialization by two, and Focus had improved by two.


    Tory looked at him where he lay and though he didn¡¯t notice it, she resisted the urge to kick him while he was down. ¡°A fair strike, but weak. At least you managed something today. Shayjol, begin walking him through the basic fighting stances while the rest of us pack up the campsite. We leave shortly.¡±

 ~ Eighteen - Torysen

    Even as they marched, Mason began practicing the stances and footwork that Shayjol had shown him. The Focus Points he had gained from the Trials had improved his strength and agility significantly, but they did nothing to teach him how to use those improvements.


    Considering the original estimate of Analyze was that it would take years to cultivate those focus points into real stats, and he had managed to integrate them in a few days, it wasn¡¯t surprising at all that he wasn¡¯t truly getting the most out of them.


    Fighting the Biord guards had been so much different than fighting against Torysen. The Biord guards fought like Mason did- go for the quick attack, try to guard against anything that came at you. It was a simple, if brutal system. Tory fought like it was an artform. She seemed to know where to be instinctively, and each one of her movements contained more power and grace than a dozen of Mason¡¯s strung together.


    After a long day of pondering this, Mason finally walked up alongside her and decided to ask about it.


    Torysen eyed him suspiciously at first, still obviously reticent to actually assist him, even though she knew it was what her brother would want. ¡°I took swordfighting classes as a hobby before the Trials,¡± she explained to a surprised Mason. ¡°It wasn¡¯t as if we had hoards of goblins to cut through, but there were a few teachers that kept the old traditions alive, from hundreds of years ago. I wasn¡¯t very good back on Marra,¡± she admitted.


    The way she talked about it reminded him of Tae Kwon Do from Earth, and he wished now that he had taken that before the Trials. ¡°Then how did you get to be so powerful? The way you moved this morning was incredible.¡±


    Tory stopped walking and blushed at the unexpected compliment. ¡°The Trials make everything easier to learn, and reward your efforts. The forms I learned on Marra, which I could barely even get through to pass my tests, eventually became skills here.¡±


    Mason considered this, ¡°That lunge you kept using on me, is that a skill?¡±


    She looked like she considered lying, then admitted, ¡°Bounding strike. I developed it actually while fighting with Mowry.¡± She grew quieter as she spoke, as if trying not to overwhelm the memory, ¡°He really picked the Trials up quickly. And he had this almost impenetrable defense. As soon as you¡¯d step close, he¡¯d knock you away. So I found a way to get close without that final step.¡±


    Mason smiled a little, picturing this strong woman getting beaten by Mowry the way Mason had suffered this morning.


    Tory smiled too, ¡°He laughed and laughed when I finally hit him with it. Just thought it was the funniest thing.¡±


    ¡®Rather than figuring out how to break through my defense, you just blow right past it! Incredible!¡¯ Mason heard in Mowry¡¯s voice. The awe and excitement was a strange addition, and Mason felt conflicted at the memory that was not his.


    ¡°Mowry remembers, and he¡¯s still impressed,¡± Mason whispered.


    Tory looked directly at Mason, her expression unreadable. Then she walked away.


    He supposed that was a reasonable reaction. She had spent all that time looking for her brother, and now he was gone in the normal sense¡­ but somehow still present through Mason. The mixture of gratitude and hatred was unnatural.


    Though he wanted to work more on the rune, Mason walked over to Shayjol, jogging to make up for how far behind he and Tory fell during their talk. Shay was currently talking with Clearsay, the cook, but they broke off their conversation as Shay turned to Mason, an amused look on his dark face.


    ¡°I greatly enjoyed watching you lose this morning. My mother will be distressed when she has to heal your wounds, but I personally think it is worth the entertainment of seeing you earn them,¡± Shay chuckled.


    ¡°You¡¯re kind of an asshole, Shay. You know that, right?¡± Mason asked as Shay shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you fight, you¡¯re not nearly on Torysen¡¯s level either. Do you have any special skills for combat?¡±


    Shay¡¯s grin became a scowl for a moment, before he shrugged again and put back on a much faker smile, ¡°I have more than a child like yourself. I at least know how to use real spells.¡±


    ¡°Shay, I¡¯m not trying to insult you. I just don¡¯t know a damned thing about how any of this works and I¡¯m asking you, a friend,¡± Shay¡¯s eyebrows raised at the word, ¡°to help me understand.¡±


    Shaking his head, Shay begrudgingly admitted, ¡°I know a few skills, but they mostly serve to strengthen my axe. When I hit, I hit hard. But Tory¡¯s skills are many and varied. She can move quickly, strike accurately, and block or dodge most skilled attacks. If my skills were more plentiful, I would be a rover now too, but instead I was told to stay with my parents until I had improved.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°That sucks, Shay. Guess you¡¯ll just have to let Torysen beat you senseless too,¡± Mason teased.


    <hr>


    Their opportunity to train showed up later that day. The Roving Band trails were not well-defined, but to even a lightly seasoned woodsman, they were followable. So with a good understanding of the land, they had been making great time heading toward the Darkest Night city even despite the frequent, cautious patrolling Torysen demanded of her band.


    All of those elements compounded to explain the confusion the band felt when they stumbled upon a cave set into a tall hill that nobody had ever seen before. This was doubly perplexing because a bit of investigation proved that the hill had appeared directly in the middle of the trail, and that the trail picked itself back up on the other side.


    The whole band, with additions, gathered in front of the mouth of the cave for Torysen to address the group.


    ¡°I recognize that returning to the Darkest Night and informing them about the opportunity with the Biord is a time-sensitive matter,¡± Tory started, pacing in front of the group, keeping an eye out for signals from the two archers she had been watching their peripherals. ¡°However, this hill is clearly new, and also very poignantly in the way of our trail. I¡¯m not so worried about routing around it, as we¡¯ll only likely lose a few minutes, but we all know how the Trials work.¡±


    Mason, however, did not. He timidly raised his hand. Tory cocked an eyebrow at him, and then realizing what his problem was, she adjusted, ¡°Nothing appears in the Trials that isn¡¯t meant to either kill you, or make life very difficult.¡± Suddenly, Mason supposed he did understand how the Trials worked. She continued, ¡°If this thing is here, that cave probably leads to trouble. We can¡¯t have half our population passing by here if we can¡¯t guarantee that this cave isn¡¯t infested with something bloodthirsty and dangerous.


    ¡°Leornal, Shayjol, Sentir, and Demon, you¡¯ll be coming with me for a cursory expedition. If we run into trouble, we¡¯ll pull out and send the entire band in. Otherwise, we clear the place out.¡±


    There was a murmur of discussion, but most everyone seemed to agree with the plan. Shaywise, however, walked up to Torysen as the group began to disperse. ¡°Tory, I know you¡¯re trying to train the boys, but shouldn¡¯t you send in a scouting party before you send them in?¡± She asked, trying her best to not sound like a mother.


    Tory smiled at her, ¡°The Trials did not ask us if we were prepared before bringing us to this plane and sending the Corrosi and droves of goblins our way. Shayjol is strong, if inexperienced. Let me give him that experience.¡±


    Shaywise¡¯s face scrunched up, ¡°He¡¯s young, Tory. I already thought I lost him to a dungeon once this week.¡±


    ¡°And yet he lives, and is stronger for it. He helped tremendously against Geralt, and I know he will be useful today as well. And if there is trouble, I will get him out, and your healing spells will do wonders to set him right.¡±


    Treyjol put his hand on his wife¡¯s shoulder, ¡°She¡¯s right, Shaywise. There are only a handful of our people who could protect him better, so if we have any hope of our son growing stronger, this is a great opportunity.¡±


    Shaywise looked as if she were fit to burst, and she turned to her husband and pounded a fist into his shoulder, ¡°I didn¡¯t think I would be raising a son thinking of how strong he might be, Trey! I wanted him to get an education and a job and a wife! This isn¡¯t fair.¡±


    Mason felt guilty for watching this, but it was comforting in a way to be reminded of his own family, and the normal life that rested buried in a set of his memories. Why was it so easy to accept the rules of this fantastical world?


    Somewhere in his mind, he knew, were calculus formulas and poems he had memorized for classes. Though he didn¡¯t regret the benefits of an intelligent mind, he wondered how differently he would have lived if he had known that his future would have him trying to comfort the souls he had accidentally claimed while preparing to explore a dangerous cave that appeared from nowhere.


    He took a deep breath and pictured the rune. It was calming to try to keep his Focus on it without delving so deeply that he got lost in its shifting shape. Why wasn¡¯t his degree in runes and spellcraft instead of Business and Leadership?


    <hr>


    ¡°Soul steal, Arun. You gave him a staff with soul steal,¡± Helzibeh shouted as she paced before her altar.


    ¡°Yes, well, if the Maledite had been using it properly perhaps I would have been more careful to avoid sacrificing him to the Trials. But look at what potential the human has demonstrated! To master mana usage in such a short¡­¡±


    ¡°Master?¡± She scoffed, ¡°He¡¯s no better than a primitive beast waving around a stick that just happens to be on fire. Either of those Maledites had the potential to become real contenders. You should see the list of challenges that Arlon had completed. He had enough Focus Points to ascend another plane given enough time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not as if there aren¡¯t other Maledite contenders. They¡¯ve been in the Trials for a century now, maybe two. A Maledite moving to another plane is hardly enough to grant them special protections. Where¡¯s the growth? The change? Isn¡¯t that what we¡¯re all seeking?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re seeking power, Arun. Someone stronger than ourselves. And you gave one of the most dangerous artifacts to one of the weakest creatures imaginable. That Maledite he consumed, the big ugly one¡­¡±


    ¡°Geralt, Helzibeh.¡±


    ¡°Geralt, right. Or was it? There are so many names to keep track of in a multiverse, even with the Trials recording everything it¡¯s just more than anyone should be expected to care about.¡±


    Arun stared at her, hoping she¡¯d get on with her rantings or simply leave.


    ¡°That Geralt, anyhow, was a force to be reckoned with. He hardly showed his mettle in that fight. And now that small, pink boy has his soul. It¡¯s just not right. We¡¯re supposed to support the strong, that¡¯s why the Trials work so well.¡±


    ¡°Another hundred years of Maledite rising a plane or two and then dying was not going to breed any unusual strength. But this human is different. If he can harness Mana Arts and Soul Arts, think of what else he might be able to do!¡±


    ¡°I think he¡¯ll suffer an exceptional death mauled by something small and ugly.¡±

 ~ Nineteen - City of Trapped Souls (One)

    Feeling like he was inside a giant anthill, Mason moved with the small group slowly through the caves. The main passage almost immediately sloped down once they entered the darkness, then curved around itself and branched almost uncountably. Leornal, the ace archer of the roving band, paced behind, while Sentir took the lead, apparently very skilled at detection.


    Between them, Torysen took a secondary lead, and Shay and Mason walked side by side, bolstered by the defensive formation. Tory seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable the further they went without any sign of anything but slick, damp stone walls and maze-like passageways. Nothing seemed to live here, and the whole cavern was devoid of mana, which meant the Darkest Night¡¯s vision was reduced to only the range they were willing to spread their own mana.


    ¡°The Trials would not have brought this place here if it were devoid of life. Something is here, waiting,¡± Sentir said quietly, directing his mana down another side passage as they passed.


    ¡°Well that just means we¡¯re walking deep into a trap. It¡¯s fine, really,¡± Mason joked nervously, eyes darting about at every sound of distant dripping or shuffling from his partners.


    Though the hill on the surface was not impressively large, and only constituted a mild detour, the cave system underground was massive. The fact that it was so large made its emptiness more suspicious, and unlike the Biord¡¯s underground city with its hewn walls and decorative tiling, these caves seemed to be natural limestone caves, carved over time by water and the elements.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Shayjol asked, and the entire party silenced.


    After several moments of the only motion or sound being Sentir casting about with Mana Sight, they all finally breathed a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Fuck this world, fuck these Trials. Can we go back to Marra now?¡± Leornal complained.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you an accountant back on Marra, you old fool? At least here you¡¯re worth something with that bow of yours,¡± Sentir pointed out.


    ¡°When everything wants to kill you, ought to learn how to kill it back, right? Wait, fuck!¡± Leornal notched an arrow and loosed it before anyone had even turned to see where he aimed.


    With a small squelching noise, the arrow lodged itself into a small bundle of white flesh, and Sentir immediately moved to take a closer look, with the rest of the group clustering close behind.


    ¡°What the hell, Leornal?¡± Torysen asked as they all looked at what he had hit. It was a small twisted thing, with oily looking, translucent white skin. Its face was scrunched and buglike, but boasted a tremendous set of teeth, and the claws on both its front and back¡­ hands?... glinted dangerously in the mana light.


    Sentir cast mana directly upon the strange creature and grimaced, ¡°That is right unnatural.¡±


    ¡°Disgusting,¡± Tory added. ¡°Right, let¡¯s turn back now. I¡¯ve never seen mana move through anything like that, and I¡¯m worried to find out how many more of those there are.¡±


    ¡°Um, guys,¡± Mason started, looking back down the path they had come. Suddenly crawling along all the walls were little spots of twisted white, and there were enough of them to merit a serious threat.


    ¡°To me,¡± Tory said, and the group recentered around her, weapons drawn.


    ¡°This way,¡± Sentir motioned down a side passage, indistinct to Mason¡¯s eyes from any other.


    Sentir and Tory exchanged a few warnings between the two of them, and then Tory spoke backwards, ¡°We need to move quickly and avoid engaging. There may be a few hundred of these things, and I¡¯m not sure our small group can take them on at once. I should have had us bring more people once we saw the many side passages.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Shayjol said.


    ¡°We¡¯re fucked,¡± Leornal added. He maintained a tight grip on his bow, and seemed to be resisting very hard the urge to fire at will at the white things that continued to appear around each corner and behind them.


    The fact that they hadn¡¯t attacked yet was unsettling, but the rapid increase in their numbers, when they had been all but undetectable moments before, was horrifying.


    The gremlins were crawling closer now, examining, probing the group, even as they moved along the corridors. And though Sentir moved deftly, as if he knew how to take this path back toward the start of the cave, Mason was unsure. Each passage looked identical, and even a prolific mana sight would not be able to distinguish them enough to perfectly navigate an unexplored system of looping, rising, falling, and interconnected passageways.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The group increased their pace, hoping to find a point where these strange creatures wouldn¡¯t crawl seemingly out of the walls themselves, but their numbers only rose higher and higher until finally they heard a hiss, and Shayjol shouted, ¡°Fuck!¡± as he swung his axe at a gremlin that had launched itself from the roof of the cave right at him.


    His attack was strong, and the being was cleaved almost in two, falling to the ground twitching.


    Then hell broke loose.


    Tory slammed her foot on the ground in a similar way as Geralt had and a crevasse opened up, and from it she pulled stone tendrils which lashed at and wrapped around several of the gremlins that were sprinting up from the sides. Leornal turned behind the group and with a burst of mana launched an arrow that split into twenty shards, each of them lodging into a different gremlin and at least half of them causing a fatality.


    Sentir swept his hands forward and a force pressed all the gremlins at the front to the ground, then Tory shouted to follow and, drawing her great, magic blade, she used a move similar to the bounding strike she had trounced Mason with to crush through the pack in the front. Small bodies flew everywhere and the rest of the group rushed to keep up with her, stepping over half mangled creatures and striking out at any that lunged.


    Mason had killed three of them with his sword and Focus, but even with the powerful spells of their three guardians, there were simply too many gremlins to keep off effectively. Somehow, one latched onto his arm, digging its nails into the leather jerkin he wore and chomping heavily at it at the same time. Shay smashed it off with his axe and then punted the body away.


    Startled, Mason felt himself lose Focus, and he was blinded by the natural darkness of the cave and his poor usage of mana sight. He swore and tried his best to reactivate it even as he moved in the direction he thought the group would be moving.


    When his vision returned, they were a ways off, and the gremlins were swarming between them. He considered mana blade but feared that if he used that, he wouldn¡¯t have the mana or stamina to maintain his vision. So he stabbed hard at the creatures and tried to watch his back, his sides, and the ceiling as he moved slowly toward his group.


    Leornal saw Mason struggling in the back, and swore again. Using another scattershot, he cleared a path to Mason then swapped out for the long thin rapier that he so rarely used. Its quick thrusts and sharp, piercing tip made quick work of a great many of the gremlins, and in no time he was back to back with Mason as they exerted their strength to hold their ground.


    Mason was forced to put away his sword and drew his staff instead. Though its swipes were often non-fatal, it had good reach and was still more than capable of batting the creatures away. Most effectively though, Mason invoked Stamina drain, filling him and Leornal with strength as the fight wore on longer and longer.


    The creatures crawling over the floors and walls were not quite as dense as at their peak, but it was clear there were still a great many of them to come, so the two began inching their way down the passageway, hoping to reconnect with the rest of the group before it was too late. Their hopes were dashed minutes later when they saw the path branch three ways, and though there were corpses strewn about that showed the group had gone this way, the masses of gremlins rushing about, lunging, biting, and scratching did not leave enough time for the two to settle on a route.


    Finally, Leornal shouted, ¡°Demon, that way!¡± And, channeling a powerful spell, unleashed a flood of water which rushed down one of the sloping passages and sent gremlin bodies tumbling down its slopes. The path was soaked, but clear enough, so the two sprinted down it desperate for a reprieve.


    As they ran, Mason triggered mana sight to improve his awareness, and shortly down the passageway saw something that gave him great hope. There was a stone passage very much like the entrance to the Biord¡¯s caves, and he could just barely make out faint lines of mana running through it. Willing to take the gamble, Mason emptied his whole pool of mana, and watched the door glow under his mana sight before a mechanism turned and the door slid open.


    Leornal shouted with glee and they passed through, only for the door to shut rapidly behind them. Beyond the door they were hardly free of gremlins, with five more immediately launching themselves at the pair, but with only a few additional bite wounds and scratches to show for it, the two quickly ended each of their lives.


    Mason collapsed back against the door and thanked his staff for all of its many abilities. He looked up to Leornal who rested heavily on his knees, panting and wheezing, and thanked him as well. ¡°I would be dead if not for you, Leornal. You are a truly incredible fighter.¡±


    Leornal looked as if he wanted to complain, but sighed and sunk down against the wall as well. ¡°You did fairly well yourself, and to find this passageway- well, good job.¡±


    Mason shook his head, ¡°No, I think once again, as always, the Staff of Mardun is what made that happen. Geralt had it keyed to all the seals on the Biord city, and I think we¡¯ve stumbled upon one of them.¡±


    Leornal looked sharply at him, ¡°You think we¡¯re back at the Biord¡¯s city? That was quite the march back. I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve gone nearly that far. And I don¡¯t remember the Biord being quite this disgusting, though possibly as dumb.¡±


    Mason grinned at that, ¡°No, we were only in the castle complex. As I understand it, the city is pretty expansive. It¡¯s possible it runs all this way. As for these nasty things¡­ well, the Biord did say they were under attack by monsters.¡± He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ¡°I know there¡¯s not much I could have done differently, but I don¡¯t much like the thought that their whole city might be swarming with these things because of me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t quite understand what mental leaps you¡¯re making to blame yourself for the shit that happens in these Trials, but get over it. This whole world sucks, and everything wants to kill us. I don¡¯t really see a lot of time for pity parties.¡±


    ¡°Would you believe that helps, a little?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°I frankly don¡¯t give a shit,¡± was Leornal¡¯s reply.

 ~ Twenty - City of Trapped Souls (Two)

    Leornal moved around the space and placed several magical defenses- wards, he called them. They weren¡¯t his specialty, but since the grotesque gremlins were fairly weak individually, he believed they would serve to give the two of them enough time to rest before they settled on a plan.


    Meanwhile, Mason began digging into his status screens, channeling Recovery all the while. There were several skill gains; two to Stamina Drain, Focus, and Blade Specialization, three to Mana Sight and Staff Specialization, and one to Mana Manipulation. His intelligence focus point had been integrated, and he noticed he also received an inexplicable improvement to wisdom as well. He took it as a sign that stats could definitely improve even under normal circumstances if he trained properly.


    He also had a new challenge.


    Congratulations, you¡¯ve unlocked the challenge: Scourge of the Rotten Gremlins.


    Scourge of the Rotten Gremlins: Trapped underground for centuries for their sentience to decay, all that is left of these creatures is hunger and curiosity. Contribute to their eradication, for the weak must perish or rise stronger.


    On a whim, he used Analyze on the challenge, and saw his skill level flick up one- the first time in a while.


    The Rotten Gremlins are the remnants of an unidentified race. Corrupted down to the mana of their souls, they are beyond redemption. This challenge will reward meaningful contributions toward ending their suffering. Rewards will vary based on methods utilized.


    Though it was still a non-specific explanation, Mason took that as intentional based on the final message. These challenges didn¡¯t seem static- they would actually reward him based on what he accomplished and how. Since he was low on Focus Points, and clearly needed to grow stronger if he were to match Torysen in any meaningful way, he couldn¡¯t help but settle on the fact that he¡¯d have to take this seriously.


    He was shaken from his musings by Leornal talking. ¡°What makes you change when you fight?¡± His voice was gruff and not altogether friendly.


    Mason looked over at the man with Focus active. It was the only way he could see him in the dim light besides Mana Sight which he still didn¡¯t have a handle on. He was crouched in a comfortable position, waiting, and staring intently at Mason as if looking into him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean. I just try to use the skills I can think of and swing my staff hard. It¡¯s all part of not dying, I guess.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not your attitude that changes. You change. There¡¯s darkness, and chaos, and anger. It looks as if your very mana is trying to pull you to pieces. And you fight much better than someone of your nature should. Not well, but better.¡±


    Looking at his hands, Mason saw the same disorienting delusion that had plagued him after his first cast of soul steal. His body shifted before him: first with a reddish tint to his skin, and then Mowry¡¯s darker hands, and there was even the faintest sign of the greyish color of Geralt. He was changing. He just didn¡¯t always notice it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to pay more attention next time we fight those ugly things, then,¡± Mason replied quietly.


    ¡°There are many things you should pay better attention to,¡± Leornal responded with a huff.


    They both rested for a while longer, and Mason asked, ¡°So you were an accountant?¡±


    That prompted a wry smile on the older man¡¯s lined face, ¡°It was boring, but safe. I worked for a company that sold toilets.¡± He shook his head, remembering. ¡°Can you imagine? I spent my life counting how much money people spent on toilets, and now I live in a world that doesn¡¯t even have any.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t take this the wrong way but I always forget you guys were normal, modern people before this. A few minutes of sparring with Torysen and I start to believe you all were born and raised fighting monsters.¡±


    Leornal laughed at that, and the smile looked pleasant on his age-worn face, ¡°Our world was not without threats, but few ever made it much further than the source points. Definitely nowhere near the cities. And what about you? Were you some warrior apprentice or the child of a great king?¡±


    ¡°I wish. I was a student, mostly. Studying business management and leadership. It was a joke, and at this point,¡± Mason gestured to the pile of bloody corpses down the passageway, ¡°A rather tragic one at that. I can¡¯t say I did much of anything to be proud of back in my old life. I worked delivering pizza for a time, and interned for a company that, after six months, I still could hardly tell you what they did.¡±


    ¡°Ah, looks like we have more in common than I would have thought. We both wasted our lives. But I¡¯m curious to know what this pizza is. Is it food, or some sort of furniture?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a food, but please don¡¯t get me thinking about that now,¡± Mason began rummaging through his bag, and pulled out a few of the nuts and berries he still had from his previous foraging. ¡°These are not nearly as delicious as a fresh, cheesy pizza. But you¡¯ve got to tell me, how do you go about becoming an accountant in a world with actual magic?¡±


    Leornal shook his head, ¡°Magic didn¡¯t quite feel like it does here. You could have learned how to use a sword to slay your enemies in your world, right? But you didn¡¯t, because you had those pizzas to deliver and your studies to bore you. Civilization takes something from people. Makes their lives damn boring, if you ask me.


    ¡°I did learn archery on Marra,¡± Leornal continued, ¡°but I shot targets for fun. I didn¡¯t have any of these powerful skills that I have here. I bought a bow at a fair where people dress up and pretend they were still living hundreds of years ago. Please, don¡¯t judge my people for being idiots.¡±


    It was Mason¡¯s turn to laugh, ¡°We have that too, we call it a Renaissance Fair. They¡¯re actually pretty fun.¡±


    ¡°The word you use sounds like the same word we use for ours, so it must be the same thing, to some extent.¡± He sighed, ¡°at least the Trials make communicating easier. I can¡¯t imagine what it would be like to hear whatever backwater slurry your human language sounds like.¡±


    ¡°Thank god for small miracles, I guess,¡± Mason said non-committally, not really willing to probe too deeply into the mysteries of communicating with an alien species.


    ¡°We have a decision to make now, you know,¡± Leornal¡¯s face turned serious, the stern look creasing his face. ¡°Do we go back through the sealed door, and struggle to find our path through the maze back to the entrance? Or do we continue down this dark passageway into another maze, hoping to find some other entrance? I presume we¡¯ll be swarmed by a legion of biting, scratching, feral beasts no matter which option we choose.¡±


    Mason shrugged, hard. ¡°You present such great options, I really don¡¯t know how to choose. At least whichever route we take, I have a challenge that should reward me for killing enough of these guys.¡±


    An eyebrow raised, ¡°Oh, you got that too? Well then, more to bind us than just our unavoidable deaths. So still, you have to choose. It¡¯s your fault we¡¯ve been trapped away from the others. I¡¯d like to collect reasons to blame you.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my- nevermind. I really don¡¯t know, which do you think is smarter? You¡¯re the one with experience.¡±


    ¡°I thought youth meant you were supposed to be decisive and reckless? How am I supposed to know which path is going to kill us faster?¡±


    ¡°Listen, just pick. I won¡¯t even blame you when it ends up being a horrible decision.¡±


    Leornal snapped, ¡°This is how I die, bickering with a pale child who can barely use mana.¡±


    ¡°Why does everyone keep bringing that up? I¡¯m getting better at it. For a human, I¡¯m the most powerful wizard to ever live!¡±


    ¡°A wizard?¡± Leornal sneered, ¡°You¡¯re hardly a caster, let alone a spellcrafter or a source master. And if you¡¯re the best humanity has to offer, then I very much pity your people when they enter the Trials.¡±


    Mason sobered up at this very real reminder of his circumstances. ¡°Let¡¯s go down.¡±


    ¡°And what makes you so decisive now? Trying to bury yourself now so nobody need worry about your grave?¡±


    ¡°If we go deeper, we have a chance of finding something to make me stronger. If I¡¯m the best humanity has to offer, I¡¯m going to become damned powerful just so I don¡¯t have to keep listening to people bitch about my decisions."


    <hr>


    ¡°This is a fool idea,¡± Leornal complained as they began their descent further into the dark passageway.


    Mason pivoted and pointed angrily, ¡°You told me to choose, so I did.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, and I was a fool to say that and you were a larger fool to take me up on it,¡± Leornal shrugged, walking right past the boy.


    ¡°We can always turn around.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d be fools to go back,¡± was Leornal¡¯s only response, and the two carried on, weapons readied. ¡°There¡¯s more mana down this way too, which, after that fight, I need.¡±


    From time to time, they¡¯d see a gremlin or two scurrying in or out of some dark hole. Leornal twitched each time, and Mason froze solid, but neither were willing to risk engaging in case they brought on another onslaught.


    The caverns were dark, and cold, but beyond that, there was little to interest the eye. Paths branched this way and that, but it would take an expert tracker to make any sense of them. Consequently, every time they passed a particularly unsettling fork in the path, Leornal made certain to note that if they hadn¡¯t been separated from their team, they would have had an expert tracker in Sentir.


    After ages of seeing almost no change in the sloping, winding corridor besides a small increase in mana density, the pathway eventually began to widen out. They were deep underground now, much farther down than the castle of the Biord had been.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Then the corridor widened to a cavern, and they were met with a sight neither of them had imagined. Small orbs dotted the distance emitting a small amount of light and mana, and the two could see a city quite unlike the Biord¡¯s. Whereas the latter had been dug into the stone itself, here the city was merely housed underground.


    The ambient light was enough for them to notice that the steep external walls of this place were hewn and carved by tools. They weren¡¯t exactly elaborate, but clearly were done by something akin to professionals. The tunnels they had just been meandering through, however, looked like they may just have been dug by hand. Gremlin hands, if they thought it through.


    How long had they been down there to dig such an extensive network of tunnels?


    The ceiling of this chamber could have been several hundred feet high for all Mason knew, and there was almost no seeing the ends of the chamber in any direction. Looking back, there were a great many entrances to this room, many leading to bridges which led to terraces along the smooth-cut, stone buildings which rose several stories and wove and interconnected from one end of the cavern to the next.


    The buildings were immense, as if New York City had been built right into the walls and spires of an ancient cave. They weren¡¯t unimpressive, either- even with the poor lighting, Mason could make out elaborate trims on the doorframes, patios off the higher floors, and thankfully railings on the myriad walkways.


    This wasn¡¯t anything like what he would have suspected from an underground city. The multi-colored lights glimmered off the silver, greys, and blues of the stones, as well as the water which dripped and pooled in the ruins. It was unquestionably beautiful, and drew plenty of questions in Mason¡¯s mind of what kind of people could have built this.


    And a worse realization came to him: To fully explore the city before them would take months.


    ¡°Good a place as any to die, I guess,¡± Leornal said, destroying any sense of wonder Mason had been holding onto


    ¡°Maybe all its inhabitants were wandering in the upper passages, looking for a meal. This place could be deserted,¡± Mason suggested hopefully.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain we¡¯ll find out soon.¡±


    The passageway that had led them into the city had been right on the ground floor, so they were forced to weave their way between the buildings to reach an entrance that they thought would take them up. A tingling sense of regret filled both of them as they recognized the likelihood of finding a way from this city back to the surface was little to none, but to their credit, they were committed to their choices.


    <hr>


    They encountered the first of the enemies on the second floor, deep enough within the maze of the city to have lost any hope of turning back. This time, Leornal stilled his bow.


    Taller than the gremlins from before, this was clearly still a relative of theirs. The white skin and contorted muscles were proof enough, though Leornal¡¯s senses stuck on the impossibly disturbed flow of mana. But this was larger; slightly shorter than a human, but with wide shoulders that looked more swollen than strong. It hunched over something, turned away from the two, and shook as it crouched and babbled.


    To get a better look, Leornal gently cast out a burst of loose mana, and almost the moment the mana hit the creature, it turned wide around and stared with bloodshot eyes out of a puffy, swollen face. It lunged for him with a snarl and a gurgle and was only barely intercepted by Mason¡¯s sword plunging into its chest. Both of them were stunned for a moment, and Mason knew that the only reason his sword had made it even a few inches into that thick skin was because of the beast¡¯s own momentum.


    As Mason stood there, stupidly, it made several more grotesque noises and then continued trying to charge even as it pushed itself deeper onto Mason¡¯s blade. It had only been a split-second attack, but its claws left several deep gashes on Mason¡¯s chest and arm since he failed to back away after attacking.


    Leornal drew his dagger and stabbed it swiftly in both eyes, and as a putrid black goo seeped out, it finally went limp and collapsed.


    Mason swore as he looked at the state of his arm, and the disgusting remnants left on his sword. ¡°That¡¯s going to get infected. God that thing is¡­ it¡¯s atrocious, really,¡± Mason exclaimed, kicking the body onto its back.


    ¡°I wish I could deny it, but you¡¯re right, it¡¯s more sickening than you, Demon,¡± Leornal stated calmly, reaching for Mason¡¯s wounded arm.


    He muttered a long incantation and eventually funneled mana into each of Mason¡¯s wounds. Though they didn¡¯t quite stitch up, a bit of the sharp stinging pain left them, and Mason breathed a sigh of relief at that. ¡°You¡¯re a healer, too? Is there anything you can¡¯t do?¡±


    Leornal looked perplexed, ¡°You really don¡¯t know a thing. That was Tralskies First Aid rune, they teach every child on Marra that one. It purifies the wound and activates the body¡¯s natural healing. It¡¯d take a greater magician than me to even learn the source rune for a true healing spell.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m going to need to ask you about twenty questions on runes and spells later, but for now¡­¡± Mason knelt on the ground near where the beast had originally stood, ¡°What the hell is this?¡±


    It was a small pebble with a smooth texture, but with evenly spaced divots throughout its whole surface. Its black luster seemed to reflect even the palest bit of light, which meant a lot in that particular environment.


    Leornal took the stone from Mason, ¡°That is the puniest mana crystal I¡¯ve ever seen. Looks professionally crafted, but its old. It was probably ten times this size once, before it¡¯d been used to suck mana dry from the air about a billion times. There¡¯s almost nothing in it, either.¡±


    ¡°What do you think it was trying to do with it? Cast a spell?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°With its mana channels? No, it probably couldn¡¯t conduct mana half as well as you. Might be why my mana sight enraged it so much. Or,¡± he held the stone in front of his eye, ¡°It might have just been hungry. Mana races really don¡¯t do well when they¡¯re deprived.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said the mana density was high down here. Why would it need some pebble if it can just generate the mana or pull it from the air?¡±


    Leornal looked at Mason like he was crazy, ¡°Few people can generate enough mana to get by for long without needing to feed off a mana source. Ambient mana in the air is nice, it can make you comfortable if you have healthy mana channels to pull it through. But the ambient mana in these caves is not nearly enough, and his mana channels were mutilated. May be a disease, might be the backlash from sort of spell.¡±


    ¡°We have no idea how long he was down here then, I guess. Well, note to self, keep up with the juice,¡± Mason said as he started to rummage through the rest of the room. It looked as if it had been ransacked, and he wondered if the mana crystal had been hidden here.


    There was an overturned table that had scattered its contents to the room- some sort of stoppered containers which had shattered, and all sorts of objects which were busted and cracked when they happened to be in less than a hundred pieces on the floor.


    Looking back at the creature, it was covered from the waist down with what was basically a skirt, though made of a fabric that was nothing Mason could identify. He couldn¡¯t imagine this beast once having a concept of shame enough to dress itself.


    They moved out of the room and out onto one of the many suspended bridges which connected the tall, seamless structures. From here, the city actually looked beautiful. The stone that made up the buildings was a greenish white, cracked and aged, but sturdy enough in most places.


    Looking in the distance, there was actually a great deal of light in the city was well, small sources that flickered and glowed, presumably out-of-reach devices that pulled on the low ambient mana, or bioluminescent plants. The light was soft enough that the buildings seem to bathe in it, and the few shadows were pale.


    Still, especially when under the cover of the buildings, Mason could hardly see more than a few feet with any clarity when he didn¡¯t have Focus up. Thankfully, his higher level in the skill meant that it used less stamina, and his endurance had improved to the point that he could recover fairly quickly. A small blessing of the Trials, he figured.


    They¡¯d gone through several dozen ransacked rooms, treading carefully around broken tables, vases, items and artifacts of various natures so as not to injure themselves, when Leornal finally found something worth noticing.


    In a much larger room, lined with the remains of destroyed tables, he scrambled up to a tall device. There was a flat, crystalline disc hidden behind a translucent stone case. There were runes inscribed all over it in a very orderly fashion, and panels lower down looked shaped for humanoid hands.


    ¡°Mason, do you know what this is?¡± Leornal almost shouted, running his hands up and down the device excitedly.


    ¡°Some sort of get-the-hell-out-of-here device?¡± Mason asked with a shrug.


    ¡°It¡¯s a device used to store information, and lots of it at that. It could contain maps, histories, spells. It could tell us what we need to know to get the hell out of here,¡± he added helpfully.


    ¡°Alright, so turn it on,¡± Mason said, sitting down on a pile of stone.


    ¡°Right, right.¡± Leornal touched the panels at the bottom, sending in a few testing bits of mana. He grinned when it seemed receptive, and then he poured a lot of mana in it.


    A few seconds passed, and he made a strange noise. Mason watched him curiously, but Leornal just kept pushing his mana and moving his hands. Then, Leornal muttered, ¡°Fuck, oh fuck.¡±


    Maybe that was okay. Just some bad news about this place. Considering the state of it, there probably was some sort of disease floating around. It probably turned people into raging, mana hungry beasts, he figured. Were diseases even able to spread across species? Maybe it was a magical disease.


    Finally, settling the matter, Leornal turned back to Mason with a look of panic just as a loud crash sounded from somewhere above them, ¡°Cover those doorways, now!¡±


    Mason didn¡¯t ask questions at first, just began hauling rubble to the doorway and cramming it in unceremoniously. He noted with satisfaction that he could move pieces he never would have been able to a few weeks ago. Still, stronger didn¡¯t mean he was strong, and he had hardly moved much rubble before he felt the building shake, and then was momentarily blinded as runes in the ceiling lit up brightly.


    The light wasn¡¯t contained to that room, he saw each of the walkways beyond the doors begin to glow brightly at the sides, and to the best of his comprehension, it sounded like he was hearing the whirring of motors a few floors up as well. He turned back to his companion, ¡°What the hell did you do?¡±


    ¡°This,¡± he hesitated, turning between Mason and the machine several times, ¡°Is more than a storage device. It¡¯s actually a terminal of sorts. It seems to be connected to a whole chunk of the city, if not the entire thing. And to power up the storage functions¡­¡±


    ¡°You need to pump it full of enough power to turn on the entire fucking city? Do you even have that kind of strength?¡± Mason asked, even as he began throwing debris in the doorways faster and faster.


    ¡°It¡¯ll only turn on the functions of this building, I think. These runes are incredibly efficient, the lights came on with just a few points of mana¡­ but it needs more. A lot more.¡±


    ¡°Okay, can you do it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe.¡± Leornal pounded his hands on the console and hissed, ¡°No, definitely. It won¡¯t take a whole lot, but it will take time. The terminal seems to be doing a lot of things now that it¡¯s awake for the first time in who knows how long,¡± he looked in the distance as the two of them heard a huge crash in the distance. ¡°Updates, god dammit,¡± he swore.


    ¡°Do you remember how that beast drooled over that tiny mana stone? Are you lighting up a giant beacon of mana right now?¡± Mason asked, certain of the answer even as he asked.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re good at barricading the doors. We need this information,¡± Leornal said even as he turned back to the machine and pumped in more mana.


    The sounds of far off rumbling and crashes continued, and Mason had a bad feeling that Leornal had activated something a lot more serious than the emergency lights. He glanced through the cracks in the rubble he had piled at the doorway, and saw that the dim smattering of lights outside had become a prominent glow, and although it was dimmer in the distance, it still seemed brighter than before.


    ¡°How long will this take, Leornal? I really don¡¯t think we should stay here long,¡± Mason worried.


    ¡°Do you want the information or not, Mason?¡± He turned around, but kept his hands working on the panels. ¡°Now would be a good time to start pulling out that darker mana, and your sword.¡±


    Mason looked at the open wounds on his arm and felt a pang of pain as he remembered them. Nevertheless, he pulled out his short sword and looked it up and down. It was thin and unadorned, but the edge was sharp and the tip was pointy. He then looked at his fortifications and felt uncertain. If he had been able to pile them up in a few minutes, he didn¡¯t think they would last long against enraged, mana-starved beasts.


    But both entrances were sealed, for now.

 ~ Twenty-One - City of Trapped Souls (Three)

    Mason stood in the middle of the room, listening intently to the roars and scrabbling of the beasts assaulting the two entrances to the room. One of them would break through soon. He could see the rubble shuffling despite his efforts to wedge the entryways shut, and his only question was which would burst first.


    One doorway was on the far end of the room, and the other was fairly close to where Leornal worked, pulling mana from the air and channeling it into the device, then making a strange series of gestures on the panels in order to accomplish whatever his goal was.


    Mason was distracted watching Leornal when he heard the far pile of rubble shift loudly. Immediately at attention, he looked that way with his sword in hand. A round, white face peered through a gap at the top, and Mason quickly moved to stab his blade through it, aiming for the beast¡¯s eyes.


    The beast pulled back in time and roared, then gathering its strength, surged through the doorway. Mason did his best to get his arms up in time to protect himself from the flying rubble, but while he was blinded the beast continued its charge. ¡°Get out of here!¡± Mason shouted against the pain in his arm, and slashed quickly at the beast¡¯s head.


    With the unerringly pale skin and bulging rounded muscles, the thing looked somewhat like a hairless yeti, and Mason struggled to guess what it could have been before this strange corruption. His thoughts were set aside though as his initial slash was blocked by the beast¡¯s claws, and when it countered with a heavy handed strike at his torso, it was all Mason could do to jump back out of the way.


    ¡°Damn, you¡¯re fast,¡± Mason said as he moved to the side and struck out at it. His blade nicked the beast¡¯s shoulder even as it turned to charge bodily at Mason once more, and Mason carefully employed some of the footwork Shayjol had shown him to move to the side. He was already breathing heavily from the brief encounter.


    Mason moved close to the beast to prompt another swipe from the beast, but rather than dodging he merely slashed hard at its wrist, landing a solid wound which sent the beast roaring. It turned its gaze from Mason toward the pool of mana forming in the machine at the end of the room, and Mason took advantage of the distraction to stab it in the side.


    It swatted Mason away and the force of the strike left Mason struggling to get his breath, but even still he charged at the yeti¡¯s back when it began to move toward Leornal again. He slashed a gash all down the beast¡¯s back, but rather than feeling victorious, he was merely irritated to see that its grotesque skin seemed to absorb a fair amount of the damage as if it were nothing. Even this attack didn¡¯t seem able to get the thing¡¯s attention, so Mason buried his blade in the existing gash with a sharp thrust, then used the full force of his weight to drag the sword down its back.


    The beast¡¯s tough body prevented the wound from opening as far as Mason hoped, but it was enough. Abandoning the sword, Mason pulled out his staff and smacked the yeti right across the face when it turned to him angrily. Stunned, the beast reared back and roared, and Demon shoved the jewel of the staff into its gut, activating Life Drain.


    He felt a warmth in the cuts on his arm, as well as the soreness of his chest, and was grateful for the pick me up. The beast, however, looked haggard now, breathing heavier than Mason had early on. If the attack itself hadn¡¯t done anything to get the yeti¡¯s attention, Demon¡¯s mana expenditure had. The beast stared at him hungrily now, and began to approach.


    Demon swatted at it with his staff, and the beast¡¯s claws countered the strike. The two eyed each other momentarily, then the beast lunged again. Demon dove, grabbing the hilt of his sword even as it stuck in the yeti¡¯s back, and pulled the blade this time up, then out. The beast turned quickly to block Demon¡¯s next slash, but Mason followed it with another strike with his staff.


    One handed, the staff strike wasn¡¯t much in the way of force, but it stunned the beast long enough for Demon to jab his blade into its chest. Again, he hardly pierced the skin, but the repeated punishment seemed to be wearing the yeti down. It swatted at Demon sluggishly, and Demon would have moved to finish it before he heard the other pile of rubble explode.


    Leornal cried out as he was struck by some rubble, and frantically drew his bow as he was pressed away from the machine by the new angry yeti that had burst in. With a split second decision, Leornal nocked an arrow and invoked his power shot, but rather than firing it at his new attacker, he turned and fired it at the skull of the yeti that Demon was struggling to finish off.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The arrow pierced its skull and it collapsed in a heap, but now the second yeti had the scent of mana. It charged toward Leornal and the archer was flung into a pile of rubble. He coughed and swayed as he stood back up after having the wind knocked out of him, but seemed otherwise okay.


    The charge had pulled the yeti away from the machine though, and Demon intended to keep it that way. Invoking almost half of his mana, he flung a powerful mana blade at the yeti, watching it burn and sizzle against the beast¡¯s skin. He didn¡¯t mind how little damage the attack had done- he had the yeti¡¯s attention now.


    It charged Demon but the length of the room gave him enough time to react. He moved out of the way and channeled stamina drain at the beast as it ran by. The intake of stamina energy felt good, but it was hardly enough to allow for a prolonged fight, especially with the possibility of more yetis on the way. Focusing on Mana Vampirism this time, Demon struck again at the yeti, and he only realized his mistake when electric pain shot through his body.


    Whatever was within these yetis that he had drawn on was not mana, and he screamed as it hit him. Where learning to endure mana had been a slow agony, this pain was brief but violent and ripped through him like lightning. Of course, Mason realized late- Mana Vampirism wouldn¡¯t work on a beast that formed from mana starvation.


    The yeti had moved in on him while he dealt with the pain, but Leornal had regained his feet and his bow. He launched an arrow which stuck in the beast¡¯s skin, but without the power of a spell behind it, hardly caused it to turn its head. That distraction was enough. Demon grit his teeth, putting away the staff so he could better handle his sword, and forced a two-handed thrust into the beast¡¯s side.


    Thick, black blood dripped from the wound, but the beast still swung at Demon, who mitigated the strike with his sword, but still staggered back from the force. The beast swung again, and Demon crashed back against the wall. Leornal fired another arrow at the beast¡¯s unharmed side, and then another, and the beast simply roared, torn in indecision between these two pests and the machine.


    Finally, it settled on its mana-hunger, and charged back at the machine as Demon regained his feet. He drew a dagger and threw it as hard as he could at the beast¡¯s back, but it hit with the hilt, rather than the blade, and clattered ineffectively to the ground. Leornal let his bow fall to the ground as he drew his rapier and launched himself at the beast¡¯s back, burying the length of the steel into its kidneys. The beast swatted the man off with another roar, but fell to the ground even as Leornal did.


    Demon, breathing heavily, walked over to Leornal and offered him a hand, and as the two looked each other over, they both thanked whatever luck they had that they only had to deal with two of those things at once.


    They walked around the room retrieving their weapons, and Leornal hesitated to walk back to the machine and risk triggering another attack. He turned to Mason and said quietly, ¡°I think I know what happened to these creatures.¡±


    ¡°Seems to me like they became anger incarnate. I didn¡¯t expect them to hit nearly that hard,¡± Mason said, brushing off dirt and inspecting his quickly bruising body.


    ¡°I gathered a few details from the storage device, though not much yet. But I think something happened, a poison or curse, that made this city unlivable. They used a spell, or¡­ more than a spell, really, which is capable of sealing them in a sort of stasis. It¡¯s very taxing on a body and a soul, but as long as there¡¯s ample mana, they could lie dormant for hundreds of years until they were woken up.¡±


    ¡°But you said there wasn¡¯t enough ambient mana here,¡± Mason pointed out as he dropped his sword and sat back heavily on the ground, panting.


    ¡°Not nearly, especially not for a large population to seal themselves all at once. So eventually those seals corrupted them, drawing out the very dredges of their mana until the spell broke, and they were no longer whole.¡± His dark skin looked pale as he stared and nudged one of the beasts with his foot.


    The change in the archer¡¯s expression wasn¡¯t lost on Mason, ¡°What do you know about this more-than-a-spell, Leornal? You look haunted.¡±


    ¡°The council would not approve of me telling you. Torysen might kill me herself.¡±


    ¡°Oh come on, don¡¯t be dramatic. Why would they care about you telling me a little about a spell?¡±


    Leornal looked at his feet and took a deep breath before looking back at Mason, ¡°Because the spell was Soul Magic. That¡¯s how they seal their body, by drawing the soul around it and sort of, freezing it. The ritual is fairly complex, but it relies on some of the fairly fundamental elements of soul manipulation.¡±


    He looked at the machine as if torn and then sighed, ¡°Soul Arts are forbidden by my people, and they will already have a hard enough time accepting you for what you¡¯ve already done. It will not be good if they hear that I¡¯ve told you any more about it.¡±


    ¡°Fuck what I¡¯ve done. I¡¯ve survived, and plan to continue doing that. Your council has to realize that the Trials are kind of ¡®do-whatever-it-takes¡¯ at this point,¡± Demon reasoned, feeling attacked by the reminder.


    ¡°The council doesn¡¯t understand the Trials, they just wish they were back on Marra and will do anything to pretend they still are. That¡¯s why they have the Roving Bands- so they can continue to sit on their fat asses and make laws and decisions for the people who are strong enough to do something about anything,¡± Leornal said bitterly.


    ¡°Do you hate me for using soul magic?¡± Mason asked, prepared for the worst, but uncertain why he cared.


    ¡°No, Demon. I hate you for getting me trapped in this place. But you¡¯ve pulled your weight since then, and I expect you to continue. This machine still needs more power.¡±

 ~ Twenty-Two - City of Trapped Souls (Four)

    Mason reached into his pack and pulled out a serving of fireboar, then cut it in half with a dagger and passed the other half to Leornal. Seared, salted, and wrapped in a special leaf, it was still fairly fresh, though much of its flavor was lost to the salt and it had toughened with age.


    Leornal looked inquisitively at Mason for the impromptu picnic, but Mason just shrugged. ¡°The meat is pretty mana-rich, and I figure we both need all the support we can get.¡±


    The archer nodded and then pulled a glass vial from his bag, passing it to Mason. Inside was a blue liquid, and Leornal was about to explain what it was when Mason shouted, ¡°Holy shit it¡¯s a mana potion!¡±


    Now the other man frowned, ¡°How did you know that? Don¡¯t tell me the Biord have them- they¡¯re awfully rare.¡±


    Mason laughed even as he cast analyze on the vial, ¡°No it¡¯s not them. Where I¡¯m from, we dream of worlds full of magic. This is kind of a staple item in most of those stories. Considering you guys are all about finding mana in like, rocks and stuff, I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d actually have a true, blue potion.¡±


    Mana Potion: Imbued with potent energies, this will restore the body¡¯s mana for several minutes.


    ¡°Take a sip, then. It¡¯ll go well with the boar,¡± Leornal insisted.


    Mason sipped and took in about a quarter of the vial. Sure enough, he felt the torrent of energy hit him immediately, but he was almost too disgusted by the taste to care. He spat the aftertaste from his mouth, ¡°That was vile! What the hell do you guys make this out of?¡±


    ¡°Rocks and stuff, mostly. A few insects, and a fermented leaf,¡± the archer explained as he took a sip and grimaced himself. ¡°It does the trick though. You think you can handle a few more of those creatures now while I finish pumping up this storage device?¡±


    ¡°Are you certain this is worth all the trouble?¡± Mason shifted as he spoke and felt his everything hurt. He wasn¡¯t sure he was even ready to be fighting here.


    ¡°Of course not, but I¡¯m certain we¡¯re fucked if it doesn¡¯t give us any useful information. Though, who knows, we could always just find another one of these devices and just keep pissing off every beast in the city.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to complete my challenge. Though I¡¯m not sure these guys really count as gremlins.¡±


    ¡°Progenitors of the gremlins, at least,¡± said Leornal, ¡°Before the corruption really eats away at them. It¡¯s even possible the small ones are just a whole new species, born from these larger beasts and a wicked survival sense.¡±


    Mason also shared one of the health potions he had scored from the Biord, and his Recovery skill sped up his stamina regeneration. While he waited to reach full health, he checked on how his skills were improving. He¡¯d gained a level in Recovery, Analyze, Staff Specialization, Blade Specialization, Stamina Drain, Life Drain, Focus, and even Mana Manipulation and Glamour.


    He also noticed something unusual. Though he never saw any notifications about it levelling up, Mana Tolerance now sat at twenty. It made sense, considering he now generated mana rapidly and dealt with it pretty casually, but he wondered what had caused the large change.


    But while he considered his skills and his mana usage, he had a thought. ¡°Leornal, you said those things bind their souls around themselves when they go into their stasis, right? Is that why their skin is so tough?¡±


    He looked like he was thinking for a moment, and then replied, ¡°If it was a true soul barrier you¡¯d have a much harder time piercing through it than you did. But it¡¯s possible it just wore down over time from the mana starvation. I guess we do have some luck after all.¡±


    ¡°How would you pierce through a soul barrier, then?¡± Mason asked, walking over to one of the bodies and probing its skin with one of his daggers.


    ¡°A powerful spell, an enchanted weapon, or plenty of soul magic could rip it apart of course,¡± He gestured as he spoke, as if trying to collect the thoughts from the air, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know anything in particular though. I¡¯m still much closer to an accountant than a spellcaster, even with a few bow and arrow tricks.¡±


    ¡°Would Torysen¡¯s weapon be able to do it?¡±


    ¡°Break a true soul barrier? Only with a particularly strong strike and the consumption of almost all of her mana. And even then, it depends on the strength of the soul barrier,¡± Leornal put his fist to his face, scrunching it up in thought. ¡°These beasts would respond to almost any amount of mana, though. Their skin is reinforced from the soul barrier, but it should soften instantly to try and absorb it.¡±


    Leornal pulled out an arrow and gripped it in his fist. Channeling a small amount of mana, its tip glowed blue and pushed it easily into one of the fallen beast¡¯s undamaged sides to demonstrate.


    ¡°Can you teach me how to do that with my sword?¡± Mason asked eagerly, certain now that this next fight would go much smoother.


    The archer shook his head as he cleaned off the arrow head, ¡°Judging by the crude way you throw those mana blades, it would take several weeks to hone your mana skills to the point where you could fight with a mana strengthened blade. To even come close to Torysen¡¯s skill with mana blade you¡¯d need to have mastered activating spells with rune mastery.¡±


    ¡°Runes again, right. Give me a minute.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°You want to master an entire new ability in the next few minutes and hone it to battle competency against ancient beasts?¡± Geralt exclaimed, laughing from where he reclined in the strange immaterial world.


    ¡°I was able to kill the beasts without the ability, but it would be a lot easier if my sword actually was able to pierce their skin without so much effort. We got lucky that only two attacked from the start, so I need this strength, now. Mowrytal, can you teach me?¡± Mason pleaded, turning his head between the two from where he was bound at the center.


    He could only see so much of the room, but the founts that flowed interminably in the distance seemed stronger than they had before. Soon, Mason would have to learn how to unbind himself so he could explore his soul closely, but that would have to wait until his survival wasn¡¯t quite as tenuous.


    ¡°You have yet to comprehend the rune, and so I cannot begin teaching you spells,¡± Mowry explained, holding the shifting, shimmering rune before Mason¡¯s face. He could feel the warmth flowing from its energetic surface.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need a spell, just a skill. I have mana manipulation and mana blade, I just need more control. A few points of mana could give my blade the edge it needs to chop these guys into pieces. Show me how to do that!¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Mowry frowned, but Geralt stomped over to admonish him, ¡°You arrogant brat. You think power is something that can be given so easily? You have to earn it, work for it. Your spat with Torysen was a mockery of a fight. Your concentration on the rune is meager at best. You can duck out of the way of a slow attack and slash with your pathetic little sword, but that doesn¡¯t make you a warrior.¡±


    Demon looked the man in the eye and pulled at his restraints. He felt his arms tighten and wrap around an object where they were held out at his sides, and for the first time recognized that they were wrapped around his staff. No wonder that strange artifact was related to this place.


    ¡°I¡¯m kind of sick of people giving me crap, Geralt, so if you don¡¯t have anything productive to add you can sit the fuck down before I rip your soul apart. I couldn¡¯t even touch mana before and now I can. I couldn¡¯t beat you in a fight, and yet here you are. I understand that I am weak but I am fighting for my life with every breath I have, so help me or shut the hell up,¡± he shouted with fire in his eyes.


    Geralt looked offended at first, but then his lips began to curl into the faintest glimmer of a smile, ¡°I almost hope you do find a way to survive, boy.¡±


    Demon gave him a curt nod and then turned back to Mowry, ¡°Do you have a way to help me or not? Can¡¯t you just channel my mana for me or something?¡±


    ¡°That is not an option, Demon!¡± Mowry shouted back with a ferocity that neither of the other two men had expected.


    ¡°That sounds like you can do it, then,¡± Demon insisted.


    ¡°I have already meddled with your soul, and it has changed you. Too much more and you may not remain the person you were.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even want to be that person anymore. He went to school, and parties, and watched TV. But none of that matters now. I¡¯m stuck in the ancient city of a race that literally turned itself into monsters trying to survive. If I have to give a little something up to survive myself, I think I can handle it.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°Activate the machine, Leornal. I can fight them now,¡± Demon said, and his red-tinted hand curled tightly around a blade that glowed with mana.


    ¡°What? That fast? How?¡± the archer asked, stunned. To his mana sight it was obvious that Demon had found a way to wrap mana around his blade¡¯s edge, but there was no way someone could master its balance in mere moments of silence.


    As if on cue, the mana around the blade flared up, then almost flickered out, like a small candle doused in lighter fluid. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m not resting on my own power.¡±


    Leornal bowed gently, ¡°Mowrytal. He is too kind for his own good. Alright then. Be ready, Demon.¡± He moved toward the console and began pouring mana in.


    While Leornal activated the device again, Demon strained himself to manage the mana that lined his sword¡¯s edge. Mowry¡¯s assistance was enough to get the ball rolling- he exploited Demon¡¯s skill with Mana Blade and Mana Manipulation to craft out the beginnings of a skill- but ultimately it was like being guided through the motions of swinging a baseball bat, and still relied on the wielder¡¯s power.


    Several times the power flared and faded in Demon¡¯s hands, and he knew that if he released the mana he¡¯d be hard-pressed to activate this skill again. He heard a roar in the distance, and looked out through the entrance nearest to Leornal, past the debris and over the sky-bridge to see two of the beasts fighting each other for access to the bridge.


    ¡°Hurry up you ugly jerks! I¡¯ve only got so much mana to force feed you!¡± he shouted, drawing their attention. They both charged at the same time, and in their haste actually broke the archway leading to the sky-bridge. ¡°Fuck,¡± Demon said to himself as they charged past the rubble scattering down the edges of the bridge.


    He held his ground though, and slashed through the air to distract them as they ran. When one finally got close enough he wasted no time stabbing forward and felt the mana-blade slide cleanly into the arm of the first attacker. It roared in pain and flung itself backwards, knocking the second beast off balance and over the edge.


    Demon stifled a laugh as the beast plummeted to the ground, surrounded by the wreckage of the bridge¡¯s railing. He was reminded to focus by the flickering of power around his blade, and he took several steps backwards into the room so that he had space to maneuver around the beast¡¯s large claws.


    Another roar caught his attention, and he saw that a second yeti had entered the large chamber he was defending, and swore as he realized he¡¯d have to end his current fight quickly to prevent Leornal from getting attacked.


    Leornal realized this too and shouted something that Mason didn¡¯t quite make out. Whatever it was, it sounded frustrated.


    Facing down his opponent, Demon held his sword off and over the railing of the bridge, drawing the yeti¡¯s eyes away from his body. The dumb beast couldn¡¯t help but follow the sight of concentrated mana. Its distraction was its undoing. Demon moved in closer to the yeti and then thrust the blade forward. Its eyes followed the blade even as it plunged into its chest, and Demon didn¡¯t stop there. He dragged the empowered blade across its chest and only pulled it out when it snagged on a rib.


    Stepping back, he waited until the monster tried to swipe at him again, and Demon cut fiercely into its attacking arm. It reared back from the pain and Mason again stabbed it, lower this time, and then pushed his full body weight to topple the beast backwards over the rail.


    Presuming it dead or dying, Demon rushed back into the room and heard Leornal swear in relief as he intersected the third yeti of the wave. This one seemed smarter than the two on the bridge, and when Demon tried some simple slashes and stabs, it turned each of the attacks with a long claw, rather than absorbing the attacks with its fortified flesh.


    Whether it was truly more intelligent or not, the beast still could hardly keep its attention off the mana in the weapon, such was its hunger, and Demon continued to press this advantage. He began to dance around the monster, trying to remember the steps of the footwork Shayjol had showed him. Several times the natural grace of the steps, even poorly utilized by Demon¡¯s lack of skill, allowed him to maneuver around a heavy attack that would have severely maimed him otherwise.


    His luck didn¡¯t hold out forever, and after landing several shallow cuts along the beast¡¯s flank, it finally countered and Demon took a direct hit to the chest by a sweep of the yeti¡¯s arm. He was stunned long enough for the beast to pounce on him, and the sheer weight of his opponent might have been enough to cripple him. Something cracked in his arm, and several things cracked in his chest. But his sword arm was okay, and when the beast moved to bite it off and retrieve the sword, Demon shoved the blade up through the roof of its mouth.


    It collapsed on top of him, and he wiggled out from underneath it, feeling its sticky, tar-like blood coating his clothing and skin. He could barely focus on that sensation though; he was more impressed by the sheer amount of pain from his injuries. His one arm lay limp at his side, but his sword arm rummaged through his bag to find one of the Biord¡¯s health potions. He ripped the cork out with his teeth and immediately chugged the whole thing.


    The injuries almost hurt worse as they healed, but the chaotic battle-lust that filled Demon kept him pushing to his feet. He stood and tried futilely to refuel the mana in his blade, but between his poor lack of control and his even poorer mana reserves, he couldn¡¯t even spark it a little bit.


    Another beast pounded into the room from the doorway near Leornal, and Demon groaned as he began to charge that way with his unempowered sword, low health, and dwindling mana and stamina reserves. Before he could begin his attack, he saw several dozen arrow splinters fly past and barrage the beast, which staggered back and placed one arm in front of its face in self-defense.


    Demon moved faster then, and worked to get his blade wedged into one of the openings made by the arrow splinters. The beast was angry though, and began countering Demon¡¯s attacks with enough force to knock him back into the center of the room. He was discouraged from losing his mana-blade, but he had beaten two of these things before he had that skill.


    They went several rounds, pushing against one another and wearing one another down, but finally Demon had riddled it with enough cuts that he could stab it in several vital points, and the yeti fell, mere feet from where Leornal continued to work on the machine.


    Mason nearly collapsed to the ground, hurriedly drinking the last of his health potions and hoping against hope that no more yetis would show up before he could recover. Five of them lay dead around the room, and he knew one more was probably dead or dying far below.


    With a concerted effort he gasped out, ¡°Are you almost fucking done?¡±


    ¡°Almost,¡± was all the response he got, and he just shook his head and listened to the sounds of the city coming to life.

 ~ Twenty-Three - City of Trapped Souls (Five)

    Demon was exhilarated from the effort of defending Leornal. Even though he had relied on Mowrytal¡¯s power, the fight had taken a great deal from him, and he felt that his skills, both in terms of the Trials, and his own personal way of measuring himself, had been stretched.


    He enjoyed how much easier it had been to fight the beasts the second time, especially with the mana-blade. It reminded him of learning to fight the cats, the way that instinctive pieces of himself had risen up and drove him into urgency. Survival was a powerful catalyst for growth, but there was more to his excitement than that. He enjoyed growing stronger for its own sake.


    And he enjoyed that, as the first human to ever wield mana, as well as soul arts, there were no expectations of the limits of his power. For all he knew, he could become stronger than any of the Darkest Night. Surely, he could grow strong enough that Geralt would have to respect him. Perhaps then he could find out more about the Maledite.


    The thought of Geralt made Mason pause to consider something he had said: the Maledite weren¡¯t on the same plane as this. That was probably a good thing. It had taken nearly a dozen people and a powerful weapon to take down Geralt. Something in Mason though almost longed to be surrounded by challenging opponents though. How much would he improve under their threat?


    But things as they were seemed fine; he would build up his strength here, and find a way to their plane once he was certain he could hold his own. He would prove himself through strength. His eyes tracked down to the bodies around him. Maybe it was the Demon growing in him, but this sense of conquest was fun. Mason didn¡¯t feel guilty for killing his enemies or pity them their deaths.


    They attacked him and didn¡¯t have the means to survive. That was their problem.


    A thought raced across his mind then- of the rest of the humans that would be coming to this world. He remembered, in the same vague sense that one remembers a dream, that he had a girlfriend before the Trials. It was strange that he hadn¡¯t thought of her once since he had first appeared in the assessment. Perhaps he was just too busy surviving and fighting.


    But if the humans were coming, so might she. Alice. Would she grow strong, too? If not, could he protect her? The thought of her slipped from his mind.


    Geralt would have enslaved the humans as surely as he tried to enslave the Biord, and would have enslaved the Darkest Night given the chance. And if Geralt was merely one of many, and if the rest of his people were as strong as him, or stronger¡­ now that was a good reason for Mason to get strong. To protect his people.


    That¡¯s right- he didn¡¯t just want to become powerful to prove something. He had people to protect, and good to do. Why then, did it seem like he had forgotten that? Probably the same reason he had forgotten Alice, and who he once was.


    This world did something to a person. The mysterious forces, the threat of death, the powerful energies of mana and stamina and the soul.


    Mason looked at Leornal, still screwed up in concentration, and remembered that if nothing else, he had to protect this friend, right now. That was simple enough to keep a hold of.


    Still musing on power, he looked at the notifications from his latest fight. He had gained another two points in Blade Specialization- which he considered well-earned. On top of that, Mana Manipulation and Focus had grown by a point, and there were two other large changes to his skills. Mana Blade had become Mana-Blade, and he had unlocked a skill called Footwork.


    Mana-Blade: Imbuing your weapon with magical energies, your raw force has increased, opening up a pathway to greater attacks. Mana Blade¡¯s level is reset to account for the new ability.


    Footwork: Your Focus has enabled you to measure your movements carefully. Every step has a purpose, you have only yet to discover what it is.


    Congratulations you¡¯ve unlocked a new challenge: Distinguished Footwork.


    Distinguished Footwork: Cater your movements to your own designs and styles. When you¡¯ve truly discovered your own technique, footwork will transform into a more powerful skill.


    The message he took from that was comforting in a way; Keep doing what you¡¯re doing. Presumably, the challenge would reward him extra agility Focus Points, which would go a long way to keeping him alive. He needed to continue refining his intelligence and willpower if he wanted to gain any real aptitude in magic, but the more physical stats might be just as important in keeping him from getting mauled or eviscerated¡­


    ¡°Let me show you something, Mason,¡± Leornal called, beckoning with one hand while the other remained keyed to the console.


    Mason stalked over, still weary even though he had been using Recovery for several minutes.


    ¡°I managed to power up enough of the city that the beasts won¡¯t know what to attack for mana. That means they won¡¯t be hunting us down immediately, at least, but I fear it will wake a great many of them up that we might have been able to avoid otherwise. The system though is far more complex than I imagined. There is no telling what surprises we¡¯ll run into from now on,¡± Leornal explained before taking Mason¡¯s hand and placing it against the panel.


    ¡°Press your mana into it, delicately. The system will respond.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Mason did so, and if he weren¡¯t used to violent reactions from almost every new thing he touched, he probably would have jerked his hand away almost immediately after. Information surged through his mind that he could hardly begin to comprehend, but then he felt Leornal guiding him, and suddenly in his mind¡¯s eye he could see a document.


    The city is poisoned and dying. The seals which protected us for all of this time have fallen, and there is no hope of them suddenly finding a solution after all of this time. The city guard have been passing around a very powerful soul sealing spell, and several groups have been hosting trainings on how to use.


    Can you imagine that? Soul sealing being taught to children?


    There hope is that enough of us can preserve ourselves that when the Archmage finds the solution to the poison, he can restore the population.


    My dearest Caleoran, the rumors are that your city too shall fall within the year, and I sorely regret that I have no means to come visit you. If I could, the things I would do to your beautiful¡­


    Mason pulled back then, thoughtful. ¡°So they sealed themselves because there was something killing their planet? What do you think it could have been, Leornal?¡±


    ¡°Nevermind that- what¡¯s important is that I was right,¡± the older man grinned, ¡°And also that there are even more secure parts of the city which should have some pretty powerful stuff stashed away. If they were hoping to combat a planet-killing poison, they would have had to spare no expense.¡±


    ¡°And here I thought your attention was on the dirty talk at the end. That Caleoran would have been a lucky¡­ whatever these people were,¡± Mason shrugged. ¡°None of this helps us though. Where are we supposed to go?¡±


    Leornal pulled away from the console then and looked out the doorway over the suspended bridge. He leaned back and forth, seemingly checking his orientation based on the more notable buildings, and then finally he pointed.


    Something like halfway across the city, one of the thicker buildings rose high above the rest, rounding into a large half-dome which connected with the cave¡¯s ceiling. Though this wasn¡¯t the only building to reach that point, the dome was far larger than most of the other buildings ever became.


    Mason shook his head as he realized what was inevitably going to happen next, ¡°So we need to make it all the way up there. How are we supposed to do that exactly?¡±


    ¡°Well I imagined we would walk, but if you develop the ability to fly anytime soon, I¡¯d be willing to try that as well.¡±


    <hr>


    There was a wider building- not the one they were aiming for- that seemed easily navigable only a few suspended walkways away. Intimidatingly, the sound of stomping, roaring, corrupted beasts could be heard nearly everywhere they went, but they had made a decent bit of progress without encountering anything face to face. Since both of them were low on energy, they considered this reprieve a blessing.


    But nowhere they had found was fortifiable enough for them to rest, especially as the city seemed to come more and more to life with each passing moment. Magic barriers flickered alongside some of the suspended walkways to provide an extra layer of safety, more machines whirred and buzzed in the distance, and the lighting of the city had grown to the point that Mason could see comfortably without Focus.


    The walkway to the larger building was an impressive thing. Twelve people could have walked side-by-side along it, and the end of the walkway branched into three paths, with two of the curving alongside the building and rising to connect with higher level walkways and alternate entrances. The main entrance, though, was still massive, and even though the ornate door was ajar, decayed, and broken, both men recognized it as a symbol of the affluence of the city.


    Mason had only ever imagined such a state of decay as this city in his wildest post-apocalyptic fantasies. The structures were all clearly made of thick stone, presumably reinforced with magic and expensive materials, but that had only leant itself to maintaining the forms of the buildings, and almost everything perishable had done just that.


    Despite the decay, this building maintained a thread of its former glory. Passing the threshold of that oversized doorway led into a wide open courtyard with a prominent basin in the center. A statue lay in shambles within the basin, but even crumbled, it was obvious this had once been a great fountain, and the statue would have stood some thirty feet tall.


    Wide looping stairways crossed behind the statue, leading up to three separate floors that pushed back further than Mason could see from his current viewpoint. Then all along each wall of the building were wide, square openings that led into buildings filled with broken tables and something Mason was shocked to identify as a legion of mannequins.


    That¡¯s when it occurred to him, and he looked at the familiar shapes of shelves set into walls, tables and displays organized in easily-navigable grids, and secondary smaller doors set into the back of each of these smaller buildings.


    It was a fucking mall.


    He swore and Leornal put a hand on his shoulder, ¡°I don¡¯t like this place either, Demon.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a fucking mall. Those are stores. Hundreds of them,¡± Mason shouted in irritation. When the archer gave him a puzzled look, he sighed and explained, ¡°To make it easier for people to buy lots of things at once, different groups all set up permanent stores in a well-decorated area. It¡¯s like a giant market, I guess.¡±


    ¡°I know what a mall is, you idiot. I¡¯m not from some backwater world, I had cities too. That¡¯s not what I was referring to though. Are you blind?¡± Leornal asked, looking serious enough that Mason had to second-guess his own thoughts.


    He gave the area another glance, looking closer at the debris scattered all about, and then he realized that the dusty, cluttered ground wasn¡¯t covered in broken stones. The ceiling and walls were whole and intact, and the center of a courtyard would likely have been mostly empty. But this sea of debris was made of something worse than broken infrastructure.


    They stood in a sea of ages old corpses- skeletons wrapped in decayed cloth and buried in a sea of tents and bags every bit as ruined as the bodies which once would have carried them.


    He could picture it then- the woman writing that letter about the imminent threat of the powerful poison, hoping it would reach her lover in another city. Then, knowing time was short, knowing that she would rather die surrounded by people than alone in a small apartment, she migrated to one of the most public gathering places she could imagine, where the whole city came in droves, packing the courtyard with bodies hoping and praying for a miracle.


    This was a mass grave for a city that had died too quickly to care for its own passing. Suddenly, those grotesque creatures he had faced seemed even more tragic. There must have been hundreds, or thousands of people who had decided to try one last ditch effort to preserve their lives, but ultimately condemned themselves to something much worse than death.


    It didn¡¯t change the simple fact though, that if Mason faced another of those beasts, he would have to destroy it. The dead and the dying were nothing compared to him, Leornal, and the others who were very much alive.

 ~ Twenty-Four - City of Trapped Souls (Six)

    Although Shayjol¡¯s lungs ached from his panting breaths, he hardly missed a beat as he kept moving against his own fatigue. Drawing deeper than he knew he could, he pressed forth with his mana, feeling it coil within him around a rune he had been perfecting for quite some time. The rune shook and looked ready to collapse, but Shay planted his feet and closed his eyes, turning his full attention inward for a half-second, willing the rune to be whole and powerful.


    It stabilized, and he felt a torrent of energy pour out of him. Throwing his arms to the sides, he released a wave of force that staggered his allies, but more importantly sent dozens of the tiny gremlins flying against the walls of the cave, many rolling back down the slopes of the hive-like cavern. His mana sight flickered and for a moment he was blind, but he shook his head and despite the pounding in his head, managed to keep his vision from blacking out entirely.


    Tory shouted something, and his mind swam trying to figure out what it had been. But she had motioned forward and Sentir had immediately run past her, so he assumed they were heading the right way. He forced his body to work, and ran after them, having to rely wholly on the hope that he wouldn¡¯t stumble or suffer a serious attack before he could recover at least a little.


    He vaguely understood that Torysen and Sentir were still casting magic. Tory guided the battle with her unusual stone vines and bullied the gremlins aside with bounding strikes from that great magic sword of hers. Sentir played a more tactical role, holding larger forces at bay with his familiar, albeit powerful, force waves and removing flankers with small, piercing bolts of light.


    It was all Shayjol could do to track where they were going, and keep a small space around him free of enemies. Even then, his arms and legs were missing a fair bit of flesh from myriad attacks, but he was too tired and panicked to feel the pain.


    Shayjol¡¯s mana and stamina had depleted hours ago, and his health was reaching a critical point that he never thought he¡¯d see it. He had been running on sheer willpower, desperately trying to restore himself whenever they managed to find a crevice to rest in for minutes at a time between waves of the gremlins. He had seen his endurance and willpower stats both rise, something he had never witnessed without the effects of Focus Points before, but even that small improvement hadn¡¯t given him the boost necessary to be regularly useful.


    As he ran blindly, he finally noticed a distinct change in his surroundings. The cool cave air seemed to circulate and swirl around him for a moment, and then he felt the ever-foreign feeling of warmth from that bright star above the planet that Mason relied on to see. He broke into a delirious giggle, and stumbled into the light before collapsing heavily on the ground. His own laughter sounded distant, but he knew it was his. It was just so funny to think Mason could only see because of some giant ball of gas forever away!


    <hr>


    Torysen grabbed the young Darkest Night as she made it into the light. Heaving him over her shoulder, she pulled him well past the edge of the cave and began barking orders at the archers stationed around the entrance of hill. They were slow to the upbeat, but quick enough.


    As gremlins began pouring out of the cave, they were hit by a wall of arrows. They screeched and wailed as they were torn apart and pinned to the stone and to one another. But for every gremlin that fell, more ran on from behind. Torysen immediately called Clearsay over, telling the small cook to go rouse the rest of the band, and bring every arrow they could find.


    Clearsay had begun to scurry away before Torysen remembered, ¡°And get Shaywise to heal her son, and we¡¯ll need Treyjol¡¯s axe as well. Be prepared for a battle!¡±


    ¡°Alright, Captain!¡± Clearsay chirped, resuming her sprint back toward the heart of the ramshackle camp.


    Torysen set Shayjol down against a tree and grimaced. The boy barely stirred even as his head rocked back against the wood. For a scouting mission, this had gone about as horribly as possible. Leornal and Mason were lost- a pair of facts that she had highly mixed feelings about - and she had almost lost Shayjol as well. Though the boy was trouble, Shaywise would have killed her if anything had happened to him. But Torysen suspected the kind-hearted woman still might over the loss of the human boy.


    In retrospect, she should have forced the human to stay in camp. His powers were too unpredictable, and he was an asset that she should never have risked. If the rest of his people found out that he had been lost on her watch, that could sow distrust during the initial peace talks when they finally arrived.


    She regretted letting these thoughts creep in as her muscles stiffened and cooled. She hadn¡¯t had a lot of fight left in her, but now that she had slowed, fatigue was rushing in through the floodgates of her consciousness. Her band needed her though, and she returned her attention toward the cave entrance to see flurries of arrows bombarding the rush of maggot-like, clawed creatures. Two lines alternated fire, and it was barely enough. Even with a third, the monsters would still be approaching.


    Thank the Source they still had spells.


    Sentir sat on his knees not too far off, in a meditative stance she knew him to employ when he was trying to quickly restore enough mana to engage his more powerful sensing abilities. She was grateful for his steadfast dedication: A lesser fighter would have collapsed from his wounds.


    At that thought, her head swivelled back to Shayjol, and she saw his mother rushing up, kneeling by his body and instantly activating spells that Torysen would never be able to comprehend. To Shaywise¡¯s credit, though she looked stricken, her tight features revealed an inspiring focus that held back motherly panic.


    Treyjol charged into the fray, trusting the archers to avoid him, and she was impressed by the diligent way his axe flashed through the battlefield. He hardly swung it without chopping or crushing at least one gremlin body.


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Watching them, Tory understood how Shayjol had endured the last several hours of torturous escape. His parents, though they weren¡¯t truly combat focused, had impressive fortitude. It was a shame, really, that the boy lacked discipline. With a little dedication, and much better friends, he would have made a good member of the band. She had so few melee fighters with her.


    But it was his fault they had almost been slaughtered by Geralt. They never should have entered that city without a full force. That they shouldn¡¯t have gone so deeply into the hive without more support was a regret of her own.


    But she could still remember well the fight with Geralt, and if it weren¡¯t for the stamina boost from the human¡¯s strange spells, she wasn¡¯t sure she would have been able to continue holding her own against the man. Who among her band could have taken her place in the defense? They would have been massacred.


    She wiped a wet patch from each of her cheeks and reminded herself that after this she was going to redouble her attention to caution. Then she summoned the last dredges of her power and pulled stone vines from the ground at the entrance of the cave, tangling and ripping apart every gremlin she could get their tendrils around.


    <hr>


    Trekking up the wide, curving staircase in the center of the mall, the two adventurers jumped quickly into action as the floor rumbled and shook, and a strained sound erupted behind them. Both of them crouched with weapons in hand, turning back around to face the entrance of the mall, but Mason broke the tension by laughing in glee.


    The broken fountain seemed to have been fixed, and water gushed and spurt all over the lower level of the mall as the water pressure built back up and tried to press through the broken pieces of the statue which had clogged its jets. Leornal looked wary, but Mason scurried back down the stairwell, stepping over bodies and rushing to the water¡¯s edge with his mouth open to catch the spraying water.


    "Oh, god, that''s not good," he laughed, even as he went back for some more of the water. "It''s chalky, to say the least. I can only hope my vitality protects me from strange ancient diseases, I guess!"


    Leornal passed slowly down the stairs, and stayed well out of the range of the water which sprayed unpredictably as the water pulsed. "If you know it''s a bad idea to drink that, why do you do it anyways? I would have expected the Biord to act like this but... please tell me you''re not among the more intelligent of the humans?"


    Mason grinned as he turned back to his companion. Water dripped off his short, mousy brown hair and he wiped it from his brow to prevent impairing his vision. Thankfully his clothing was somewhat water resistant, but nevertheless, he shivered as the heat left his body. "Don''t you know, Leornal? I was picked as the first human in the Trials because of my vastly superior strength and intelligence. I''m the true champion of the human race!"


    The archer raised an eyebrow at that, "Then you''re clearly doomed. And I suppose, so am I," he gestured to the mall, indicating the predicament of being trapped in an underground city that was poisoned by an unknown element and doomed to corruption and decay. That gave him a thought, "Did it occur to you that you may have just drank the poison which killed these people?"


    Mason''s eyes went wide, "Shit," he spat, "fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh my god, I''m going to die. Why didn''t you stop me?"


    It was Leornal''s turn to laugh, "Truly the greatest your species has to offer.¡± He shook his head and beckoned to Mason, ¡°Don''t worry, the poison was airborne. If it''s still around, we''ll die no matter what we do."


    "Well that''s not very comforting at all," Mason mused.


    He heard rubble move in the distance, and then a pulsing noise not unlike the sound made by one of the Darkest Night¡¯s force spells. Demon''s eyes narrowed and he drew his sword, rushing back up the stairs toward Leornal


    "Activate your mana sight, Demon," Leornal urged, moving further back past the fountain.


    Mason did, and what he saw confused him. Similar to the heat above a fire, he could see the air shimmer and warp, but it was clearly glowing with a mana hue.


    Off in the distance they heard a voice chime, "Attention, the city''s defenses have been breached, and the Committee For Disease Management is urging all residents to join together in their local disaster-zone. Specialists will be present to provide a final barrier to the spread of the as-yet unidentified poison. We assure you that the Archmages are hopeful that they can discover a cure before it''s too late."


    Even the recorded voice seemed uncertain of what she was saying, and Mason frowned imagining what he would do if he had been told that an incurable and unidentified disease was going to wipe out his entire city. He shivered as he realized the Trials were basically no better, or might be worse if he couldn''t find a way to strengthen humanity quickly when they arrived.


    Refocusing on the shimmering that was intensifying down a hallway on the first floor, Mason decided on a whim to switch from his sword, to his staff. This wasn¡¯t likely to be a fun opponent, whatever it was.


    The concussive, pulsing noise grew worse, and suddenly a flash of light flew out of the hallway and up into the air above the fountain. The little water that had managed to spurt up rather than out to the sides seemed to curve around the ball of light, spraying out even further.


    ¡°Well what do we have here, hmmmm?¡± chimed an oddly young voice. Mason couldn¡¯t see clearly with mana sight on, so he turned it off, and in its place he saw two glowing orbs.


    ¡°It looks like we have intruders!¡± chirped the second orb. Both of them were about the size of watermelon, and were composed of round, metal panels that swirled around a core of tightly packed energy.


    ¡°Ah, and here we haven¡¯t even had any time to charge up! But we can¡¯t let alien invaders live in the city, and these two don¡¯t seem so strong at all!¡±


    Leornal and Mason exchanged looks, but neither moved or spoke, uncertain of what provoking these two beings would do.


    ¡°Look, they aren¡¯t even of the same race! How odd. Oh well, mysteries are for the Archmages. We were told to kill any foreign entities that entered the city until they could restore it, and I guess we should do it.¡±


    ¡°I was really worried when we ran out of power that we wouldn¡¯t be able to do our job! But now that the city is waking up, we¡¯re awake again. It feels so good too!¡±


    The two orbs swooped excited around each other, splashing water all about and casting off large, concussive waves that shook the ground.


    ¡°It looks like these were two spirit guardians left to defend the city,¡± Leornal explained trivially to Mason. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if we should fight or run from them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think we¡¯re on the same page. I guess we try running, and fight if we have to?¡± Mason suggested, never taking his eyes off the two orbs which seemed to be¡­ playing?


    Leornal nodded, but Mason didn¡¯t see it. All he heard were feet stomping along rubble and moving up the stairs, and Mason swore, but sprinted up the opposite flight quickly.

 ~ Twenty-Five - City of Trapped Souls (Seven)

    ¡°At least I¡¯m hydrated,¡± Mason muttered to himself as he ran, pushing himself to keep up with Leornal and keep an eye on where the guardians were floating behind them.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t have to run, you know. We¡¯re going to kill you either way, and if you just let us, there will be a lot less property damage!¡± One of the cheery orbs of death announced as it flung itself bodily right past Mason, blowing a rather large hole in a wall that Mason passed without a second glance.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to not die, though! Isn¡¯t that an option?¡± Mason asked as it floated back out of the hole.


    He noticed that when they spoke, they expanded, and when they flung themselves, they compacted. His mind dug at that discovery, looking for an idea that would take advantage of that oddity to save his life, but he quickly decided that wasn¡¯t the right approach.


    Mason saw Leornal take a corner, and he left his own path to follow, irritated that the archer seemed unconcerned with cooperating in any way. The orbs continued to blast back and forth, wrecking the city in a way that Mason could never hope to accomplish, and would take a great many powershots from Leornal¡¯s bow to replicate.


    ¡°Nope! We¡¯ve got strict orders to kill every being from another planet that shows itself here! You just ought to be glad we didn¡¯t have more time to charge or we would have vaporized you by now,¡± the orb closer to Leornal explained cheerily.


    The other one chimed in, ¡°Not that we mind this game! It¡¯s pretty fun, and we don¡¯t get a whole lot of opportunity to explore the city. Our master bound us pretty thoroughly.¡±


    ¡°You cannot leave this room unless you¡¯ve detected a threat, and when you do, you are to kill it to the best of your ability, and then return immediately,¡± one of the orbs said in a mocking tone.


    ¡°Do we really count as threats though? I mean, look at how weak the human is. He¡¯s no threat to anyone!¡± Leornal called, always quick to insult Mason.


    ¡°Oh we were bound more thoroughly than that.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, tons of energy patterns and life-form identifiers, you name it. We identified you as non-native so quickly!¡±


    It was impressive that these things could keep up such a cheerful conversation even in the midst of blasting through walls and corridors after the two runners. They had left the core of the mall at this point, taking a passageway up and into the offices above, which Mason assumed were where the administration and purchasers for the mall resided.


    Luckily for them, Leornal had picked one of the largest buildings to climb on their route to the strange dome. This meant wide hallways, open office-looking spaces, and plenty of places to duck and hide to avoid the charging, glowing balls.


    But running was proving fruitless; both Leornal and Mason were breathing heavily, and the orbs seemed to be picking up speed if anything. When the two passed closely by one another, Mason pointed straight ahead, and then turned on his heels for a desperate move.


    He hadn¡¯t realized how close the orbs were behind him, and he had to throw himself to the side to avoid the first one, but before the second had made it to him he had his staff out and swinging.


    With how he swung the staff, he wished he had more experience playing baseball, but despite his inexperienced stance, the swing made contact. Mason was swung around by the force of the orb¡¯s collision, but he felt his Mana Vampirism activate.


    Demon willed the staff to suck hard, and felt a veritable torrent of mana pour into his body. He found his footing and thrust the staff forward, launching the mana back out in a powerful, crimson blast of energy which completely missed both of the speeding orbs.


    It was a start, at least. He saw the orb he had struck sway a bit in midair, and felt a pang of hope, but when the other one sped past his head, he pushed his hope aside and sprinted after Leornal.


    Bursting through a door at the end of the hallway, he found himself on a long, wide sky-bridge strung between the large mall building and another building that was much closer to the dome they had been pursuing. The orbs took advantage of the open space and flew out across the abyss, launching themselves past the runners at all sorts of new angles.


    Demon dived and ducked to prevent himself from getting bludgeoned to death, but his head turned when he heard a loud crack and saw one of the orbs flying off unsteadily.


    In Leornal¡¯s hands was a dented, heavy metal pipe, and he had clearly imitated Demon in using it to deflect one of the charges. Demon turned away to see one of the orbs on a collision course with his skull, and he ducked away, only to turn and see the other similarly charging at him. He had just enough time to bring his staff up, and though he didn¡¯t really land a direct hit on it, the orb still made contact, which let Mana Vampirism work its magic.


    Mason fell back on his butt and pressed his hands behind him to lift himself up, then swallowed hard when one of his hands almost missed solid ground entirely. The bridge, though wide, wasn¡¯t the safest place for high-maneuverability combat.


    He saw Leornal casting weak force blasts out, slowing repelling the two orbs which, to Demon¡¯s eye, were at least a little slower after losing a bit of their mana. Demon charged over, slamming his staff down on one of the orbs as it passed near Leornal, and when he felt the surge of mana through his body he was reminded that he had never expelled the more recent capture.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He pushed as hard as he could to expel the mana in a Mana Blade before it overwhelmed him, and was gratified to see the red crescent actually collide with one of the orbs.


    They were furious now. ¡°Hey! You can¡¯t use our mana like that! Would you just let us kill you already?¡±


    ¡°We should have just waited to attack. Vaporizing these guys would have been so great. I¡¯m already tired of chasing them down.¡±


    ¡°They just,¡± one of the orbs started as it launched past, ¡°won¡¯t stay still!¡±


    Demon planted his feet and batted at one of them, and the force of its strike sent him sprawling to the ground. In the process of falling, he tripped over Leornal¡¯s leg, and the archer failed to dodge the other orb¡¯s strike.


    It hit him hard in the shoulder, and he stumbled backwards toward the edge. Demon scrambled to his feet to try and reach out to his companion, but Leornal had used a massive burst from a force blast to push himself back onto the platform. The archer roared at Demon, ¡°Finish the other one already!¡±


    Demon turned and realized that one of the orbs was nowhere to be seen, and hoped that his most recent strike had sapped it of enough energy that it was disabled.


    He dropped to the ground to dodge a close strike, then got back up and began to position himself to counter the next divebomb. The guardian seemed to realize, and rather than attacking directly again, burst down the bridge and away from the two of them.


    Shouting, Demon pumped his limbs and sprinted faster than he thought he could down the bridge, gaining on the weakened orb little by little. It was close to the next doorway when Demon thrust forward with the staff like a spear, barely bumping into the orb at the very edge of its length.


    The orb kept moving for a moment, but Mana Sight showed the last of its energy pouring into Demon¡¯s staff. He wasted no time in expelling the excess mana to the air, then shouted again, walking over and picking up what was now no more than a small, golden, rune-covered metal ball.


    ¡°That staff,¡± Leornal growled, bearing down on Demon. ¡°No sane person would wield that staff. It should not be able to activate so many strange abilities with your meagre power.¡±


    ¡°So then, what? Do you want me to toss it off the bridge? Break it over my knee? It¡¯s saved our lives now several times over- with Geralt, the gremlins, the yeti-things, and now with these guardians. I¡¯m not a huge fan of the soul-sucking, but being able to pull the life, mana, and stamina out of anything that fucks with me is a pretty nifty trick,¡± Demon held tightly to the staff as he spoke, his knuckles turning white even as the red glow of his Glamour darkened on his skin.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to get rid of it, I just¡­¡± Leornal threw up his hands and stalked a few feet away, ¡°It scares me, Demon. You scare me, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s much of a stretch to say you terrify just about everyone.¡±


    Demon laughed darkly, ¡°I¡¯m weaker than almost everyone around me, and yet I¡¯m terrifying? Torysen was able to stand against Geralt head on, and might even have had a chance without my help. Did you see the way she knocked me senseless when we sparred? Even Shayjol probably could beat me in a fight, for now.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that last part that terrifies us. The ¡®for now.¡¯ I¡¯ve seen you when you¡¯re spent on mana, or, rather, I can hardly see you. Nobody should be able to exist with so little mana, and nobody should be able to survive what you already have with so little power. You keep coming out on top, and who knows where that will leave the rest of us if that trend holds up?¡±


    Demon glowered, but he respected the fact that Leornal was being more honest with him than he would be if the situation were reversed. His expression softened, ¡°I¡¯m on your side, so if I get stronger, so do you.¡±


    Leornal looked about to say something, but instead just nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s keep going before more of those guardians show up.¡±


    Demon shrugged, too exhausted to argue. Strong or weak, people seemed to resent his very existence. At least when he got strong he could shut them all up.


    <hr>


    The pile of small bodies at the entrance of the cave was grotesque in its volume. It was hard to tell at a glance whether hundreds, or thousands, of those gremlins had poured from the cave, and that didn¡¯t include the sheer number of gremlins that Torysen, Sentir, and Shay had killed on their way out.


    The battle had lasted long enough that the archers had depleted their supply of both magical and physical arrows, and had to resort to striking out with their swords, alternating in groups to allow them all to stay well-rested. The fighting had been simple enough when the swarms were unable to surround the fighters, but it had been a battle of attrition that left the Roving Band exhausted and angry.


    Leornal was well-liked, even if Mason¡¯s standing was ambiguous at best, so that loss sat heavily on the hearts of the entire group. There was no celebration when the bodies finally ceased pouring out of the cave. Torysen just quietly ordered a rotating watch on the cave entrance so that they could rest and ensure none of these gremlins escaped.


    She had hardly begun stalking away when Sentir and Clearsay walked up to her and asked for a word. Her body sagged wearily, but she nodded nonetheless, and they all walked over toward her tent to sit in front of it.


    ¡°Captain, I don¡¯t mean to add a heavier burden to your shoulders after such a long fight, but there are some things which don¡¯t add up that I think we need to discuss urgently,¡± Sentir spoke steadily and his voice demanded attention, even while he maintained a sense of subordination.


    ¡°I¡¯m listening. If you think it¡¯s urgent, I trust your judgment. Is this about the human?¡± Tory asked, her head swiveling limply between her two companions.


    ¡°No, though if he and Leornal are still alive, it may end up being relevant,¡± Sentir started, before taking a cup of a warm, fortified broth from Clearsay. Tory was so tired she hadn¡¯t even seen the cook begin preparing anything. ¡°Those gremlins could not have lived in those caves. There were endless tunnels, but no sign of beds or food or anything of that sort.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they were properly alive, at all, but I think they may have come from living beings once. Those would have lived much deeper though, further in than we got, for sure.¡±


    Tory considered the strange reaction of their bodies to mana, and it made sense. ¡°A soul corruption, then? But I¡¯ve never heard of more than one or two rogue spellcasters with the affliction. What could cause hundreds to all face it at once?¡±


    ¡°A curse? Or perhaps an extinction level danger? Soul arts are no more my specialty than yours, but I don¡¯t think we were facing anything more than the husks of the real creatures that lurk in those caves,¡± Sentir explained between sips of the broth.


    ¡°Then that¡¯s why you think it¡¯s relevant to the human and Leornal!¡± Clearsay almost shouted, ¡°You think they¡¯re still alive, wherever those things came from!¡±


    Sentir looked down sadly, ¡°It¡¯s very unlikely, but it might explain where they went. When we come back with more of the Darkest Night for a full expedition, I want to request being allowed to participate so that I can look for them.¡±

 ~ Twenty-Six - City of Trapped Souls (Eight)

    Mason stared at the now inert golden ball closely. Something within him screamed out that he should be cautious, but he couldn¡¯t easily identify the source of his worry. Maybe his instincts had simply grown paranoid of everything around him.


    He cast Analyze, but rather than a clear indicator showing up in his status log, he merely got a vague impression that this orb was somehow the combination of something living with something very magical. One glance at the intricate runes on its surface would have made that clear, though. Grunting in annoyance, he put it away, and made a mental note to himself to work on improving his analyze ability, and doing some serious research into runes.


    ¡°Can we rest first?¡± Mason called after the archer who was skulking away.


    ¡°And risk more of those guardians showing up?¡± He sneered in response.


    Mason put up his hands, ¡°Better that we rest and fight more of those with some energy in us, than stumble into something worse while we¡¯re exhausted. It takes more out of me to use all of those spells than you might think. I¡¯m really still not accustomed to mana usage like that.¡±


    Grunting, Leornal motioned to turn around, and the two trekked back into the offices before the wide sky-bridge. Mason almost laughed as he looked in through the doorway; time had done its damage, but the wanton destruction of the guardian orbs had been massive. Holes almost large enough to crawl through dotted the walls, and the increasingly strong glow lights lit up the dusty air leaving the rooms an eerie blue and green color.


    Mason settled himself on a pile of what looked like cloth strips and plaster dust and turned inwards. First, he checked his notifications from the last fight.


    He had gained two points in mana tolerance, mana-blade and staff specialization, one in mana sight, focus, footwork, mana manipulation, and glamour. Most impressively though, he had gained three in mana vampirism, which made up for how long it had been since he had improved that ability.


    Demon of the Darkest Night:


    Amateur Magical Slayer


    Level 3 (33FP)


    Health: 24/63 (2.6/hr)


    Mana: 12/35 (2.5/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 9/35


    Stamina: 17/75 (3.3/min)


    Strength:  6 (0)


    Agility:  6 (+1)


    Intelligence:  9 (0)


    Willpower:  8 (0)


    Vitality:  6 (0)


    Endurance:  7 (0)


    Creativity:  6 (+2)


    Active Skills: Focus (16), Mana Vampirism (10), Analyze (7), Life Drain (6), Recovery (8)


    Passive Skills: Equip (5), Staff Specialization (15), Blade Specialization (11), Footwork (2)


    Mana Arts: Mana Sight (14), Mana Manipulation (15), Mana Tolerance (22), Mana-Blade (3), Shadow Stalk (10), Glamour (4), Stamina Drain (3)


    Then he turned his mind¡¯s eye to the rune. With so much going on, he had trouble remembering it at first, even with Mowrytal¡¯s help imprinting it deep within him, but he figured that the process of recalling it and trying to conjure its shape could only help him improve his comprehension. Though it shifted and changed, it had to have a definite shape, something that could identify it, and he would draw on that concept.


    Slowly he began to move his hands through the shape of it in the air in front of him, rehearsing it in a trancelike state. The rune grew bigger in his focus, taking up more and more of his mental energy and awareness. He felt dizzy, but he was detached even from that sensation as he drilled his attention into the rune as if it were the last source of life within him.


    The rune was power, it was something deeper than mana. It was the electrical circuit and his pool of mana was the battery. But he didn¡¯t have any of the background in runecraft as an electrician would designing a circuit board. He didn¡¯t know how the rune pushed and pulled and shaped the power, but, then again, neither did he understand how a transistor converted one electrical signal to another.


    All he had to do was press the power button, and trust the machine to do its work. If he could only shape the rune properly, hold its image before him and then press his mana into it¡­


    For a split second, the rune was whole, and he saw a streak of his mana pass through its loops and curves. One tiny point of mana stretched and becoming something altogether different.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Leornal called over, throwing a fruit that resembled a blue orange at Mason¡¯s head.


    Mason shook trying to bring his mind back to reality, remembering where he was, what he was doing. ¡°Um, I was,¡± he stumbled, seriously uncertain for a moment. ¡°Trying to grasp a rune that Mowrytal had showed me.¡±


    The look on Leornal¡¯s face made it clear that he hadn¡¯t expected that answer. He looked upset, but then mostly uncomfortable. ¡°Oh, well. I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt. You should be careful though,¡± he took a big bite out of the exposed fruit in his own hands, ¡°If you mess up a spell it can cause some pretty big messes. Human spellcasting might not even be the same as a Darkest Night¡¯s spell. Try not to blow us up.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°You use runes for your force spells, right? How did you learn it?¡± Mason¡¯s curiosity won out to his annoyance, now that he remembered how close he really had been. Maybe a teacher would have its value.


    ¡°We¡¯re taught from childhood the basics of spell rune comprehension. Most people don¡¯t use many spells, just some basic utility tricks: light conjuration, reduced weight, that sort of thing. The force magic that we all use actually wasn¡¯t even made for combat. It was repurposed by one of the warriors that trained Torysen, and passed down to the rest of us for self-defense.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you all want to know every spell you could?¡± Mason asked, almost shouting. ¡°It¡¯s literal god damn magic!¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you a better swordfighter, you idiot? You don¡¯t learn something that¡¯s not going to be relevant unless it¡¯s just fun for you. Not all of us really cared for spellcrafting. It¡¯s hard, for one. And for two, well, it¡¯s just really fucking hard. Especially combat magic,¡± Leornal¡¯s brows scrunched up as he finished. ¡°Not all of us can be legends, and once we learn spell runes we¡¯re actually barred from the real magic. Source Magistry, now that¡¯s an odd profession.¡±


    ¡°You sound a bit resentful for someone with some pretty strong archery skills,¡± Mason pointed out.


    ¡°Those aren¡¯t even spells. Mana helps add some force to them, sure, but for the most part they¡¯re just skills that the Trials helped me master. The scatter shot just pumps enough mana into the arrow to blow it up, then manipulates them so that they stay solid and maintain a general trajectory. If I had an actual spell rune for it I could unleash some serious firepower.¡±


    ¡°Okay, then let me talk to Mowry for a minute,¡± Mason said as Leornal grunted and turned away.


    <hr>


    Mowry was chuckling as Mason¡¯s eyes opened in that soul place within him. ¡°You antagonize him every time your abilities manage to solve problems that his skills cannot,¡± he explained.


    ¡°I seem to have the ability to piss people off at a prolific rate,¡± Mason agreed.


    ¡°Leornal was not far behind me when I left to scout ahead of the tribe. He took to the Trials quickly, becoming quite adept with the bow, and was given a lot of options for how to serve the Darkest Night.


    ¡°All those honors, and now here he is trapped in a city with someone who uses forbidden magic accidentally, and somehow seems to be closing the gap between you and him effortlessly. If I weren¡¯t reliant on your power, even I would be offended.¡±


    Mason shrugged as well as he could in the strange bindings of that place, ¡°Well I¡¯m not here to let myself die so someone else can keep their ego. I¡¯d rather get stronger.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why you¡¯re here? We saw the rune form. If you had a bit more concentration and a better grasp of mana manipulation, you might have been able to cast it with that last attempt.¡±


    ¡°And then all you¡¯d need is another month of practicing before you could use the spell while you were actually in the middle of a fight,¡± Geralt added unhelpfully from his corner.


    Mason ignored him, ¡°I think it would help if I knew what this rune was supposed to do. If I could picture my goal, I could focus better on the rune.¡±


    ¡°The rune by itself doesn¡¯t have a definite effect. I didn¡¯t want to bias the development of your human magic, so I only taught you a fundamental rune, rather than a formulated spell,¡± Mowrytal explained, gesturing in the air and pulling up an image of the rune in front of him.


    ¡°Okay, so¡­ what does that mean?¡±


    Mowry smiled, and with a few more gestures, several very similar runes appeared, then vanished almost instantly before Mason had time to even begin to comprehend what he was seeing. ¡°Torysen uses the force rune to activate her spells, and even to enhance her bounding attack. But the rune by itself isn¡¯t enough. She pulls upon spell formulations, which are distinct variations on the rune that produce extremely specific effects.


    ¡°If I taught you these formulations, you could use the same abilities as everyone else, but where would your incentive be to experiment and shape the magic to better suit your own abilities?¡± He pulled up the fundamental rune again and held it close to Mason¡¯s face.


    ¡°So the rune does nothing, then?¡± Mason looked confused, and it started to make sense why he couldn¡¯t really do anything at all with the rune.


    ¡°No, it will produce force energy, which is yours to shape how you will. With mine and the Trial¡¯s help, you¡¯ll devise new spell formulations, and if we have any luck, they may have some unique or interesting power to them. At the very least, they¡¯ll suit you.¡±


    Geralt finally left his perch, and walked over to take the rune from Mowrytal. The dark man did nothing to resist, and he and Mason waited to see what Geralt would do next.


    ¡°Where did you learn about the trials?¡± He finally asked, looking directly in Mowry¡¯s eye.


    ¡°In the trials themselves, during the brief period before I died.¡±


    Geralt made the rune disappear, took a step away, then pivoted and looked at Mason. ¡°Demon, your luck is greater than either your wits or your strength. I don¡¯t think he truly understood it, but your pet has given you a great advantage.¡±


    Both Mason and Mowry looked surprised, as much that Mowry was being praised as that Geralt seemed to be feeling helpful.


    Geralt continued, ¡°The Trials exist to destroy the weak and raise only the strongest of each race to a higher level. They feed on change. I can think of almost nothing they would reward higher than an entirely new style of spellcraft. Do try not to kill yourself with a spell.¡± He paused for a moment before walking away, adding, ¡°I haven¡¯t decided if it¡¯s in my better interest to keep you alive or not, yet.¡±


    Mowry chimed in then before Mason had a moment to sort this out or ask further questions, ¡°You should return now. It is not good for you to stay in this place for very long.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°Well?¡± Leornal prodded immediately as Mason roused himself.


    ¡°I found out that rune I¡¯m learning is just¡­ fundamental force?¡± Mason said uncertainly. ¡°Apparently I should be able to make spells with it later that the Darkest Night can¡¯t.¡±


    Leornal groaned, ¡°I thought you¡¯d have learned some great powerful secret from that dangerous man. Of course you can use a rune to create a spell, it¡¯s just not that damned easy,¡± Leornal stood up, grabbing his belongings. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to turn my powershot into a force spell for months.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I can help?¡±


    ¡°Sure, perform one more miracle,¡± he replied with more frustration in his voice than he had wanted to allow. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d think you were sent from the Trials to fuck with my people specifically.¡±


    Mason grinned mischievously, tired of everyone venting their frustrations on him because he had the luck to not get murdered instantly, ¡°No, I¡¯m just here to drive you insane personally.¡±

 ~ Twenty-Seven - City of Trapped Souls (Nine)

    Giving up on trying to utilize the rune for the time being, Mason finished recovering and the two set off across the skybridge again. As he stepped carefully over a shattered chunk of the bridge that had been hit by the guardian orbs, he noticed something unusual just up ahead.


    If anything could be said definitively of the city to this point, it was that it was a ruin. The city had been devastated by something he could hardly wrap his mind around. Everywhere he looked, almost everything that was loose was shattered or decayed, and even the foundations of the buildings seemed on the verge of collapse. Perhaps, if they hadn¡¯t brought mana back into the city, it would only be a matter of months or years until large sections of the city truly crumbled into rubble.


    More unsettling than the physical destruction was a lack of life that had left Mason with a chills-down-the-spine sort of discomfort. The strange white gremlins and the yetis were animated, but intuitively they seemed less than alive, which made sense considering the backfiring of the soul-preservation spell they had relied on for too long.


    But Mason now stepped gingerly over the fine green tendril of a vine that wove up the path and into a crack in the ceiling. The tendril was yellowish, as if it were lacking some essential nutrient to truly thrive, but since it stretched almost a dozen feet from that crack it had clearly been growing for some time.


    Leornal too, seemed to notice its presence, and even walked over to peer closer at the crack that it had come out of, making a quiet noise of inspection as he examined it. When he saw Mason watching him, he nodded quietly, and with a motion of his hand they began walking further into the building, looking among the rubble for any signs of a staircase or the next sky bridge.


    It was as if this building had somehow escape the passage of time and the destruction of whatever had ravaged the rest of the city. Though the dust laid thick on every surface, and most anything fragile had still collapsed, much of it was still intact.


    It must have been a manor of sorts, for a noble or governor. Paintings hung on the wall too faded to be identified as art, but distinct in the way the mana-powered lighting highlighted their distinguished places in the hallways and at the ends of the larger rooms.


    In the corners of the rooms were display cases of all sorts, boasting everything from stone tablets to corroded metal sculptures and even some weapons which looked duller and rustier than the dagger Mason had found at Mowrytal¡¯s campsite. The two adventurers both acknowledged that there may be valuable items to be found among this manor, but so much of it was in total disrepair that they knew there was no way they could waste the time sorting through it.


    As they climbed the stairs to the second floor, Mason was stopped when Leornal gripped his shoulder, and put a single finger to his lips to indicate silence. They listened closely, and the young human quickly understood why he had been stopped.


    There was a rustling noise, like someone digging or shuffling through a pile of junk, and that could only mean a new threat.


    Mason whispered to Leornal to cover him, and then shifted into Shadowstalk. He moved easily through the area considering the dim lighting, and it didn¡¯t take him long at all to follow the noise down a hallway and into a large room which seemed to have been wholly transformed compared to everywhere else he had seen in the city.


    As soon as he passed through the doorway into the room, he was almost suffocated by the shift from chill, cave-like air to thick, humid, warmth. Plants covered the length of the room- looping vines and tall, leafy ferns grew plentifully amid large flowers of various colors, tall brown stalks, and even some very wide leaves like those which cucumbers grew to shade themselves. Looking closely, there was a vague sense of a long-lost order in the room as each type of plant seemed to prefer a section, but time had scattered the plants amongst each other.


    On the far side of the room was the source of the noise; a tall, willowy figure was moving stones and piling them at the side as if trying to unbury something. Mason stalked closer, but between the thick plant-life and the tall pile of stones, he could hardly tell what the figure could be looking at. He did, however, get a better look at it, or her, he assumed. She resembled the yetis, but in her pallor she beared a lot in common with the gremlins too.


    Her skin seemed stiff and thick, and something was distinctly wrong with her proportions. Though she was more slender than the yetis, and only a little taller than Mason, her muscles bulged unevenly. One forearm was enlarged, a portion of her stomach seemed to be swollen, and one of her feet was exposed and looked swollen and clubbed.


    She worked diligently, and Mason deliberated on whether to wait for her to finish or to engage her. Before he could decide though, he heard the loud clattering of an arrow smashing against one of the pillars in the room, and the woman turned quickly toward it. She sniffed the air, then began to slink in the direction of the sound, bearing her weight as if it were bulky and unfamiliar as she moved.


    Mason got a better look of her face, and saw that even one of her eyes was swollen, and the rest of her features were contorted as if they had been pressed against a sheet of glass and frozen that way. The woman snarled and hissed as she walked away from the hole she had been digging, and with an uncomfortable reticence, he admitted to himself that she was only a small step away from becoming as feral as the yetis. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Not willing to risk her attacking them while they moved on, he channeled his mana into his short sword to activate mana-blade.


    Before he knew what was happening, the woman who had almost been dragging her body while moving to inspect the noise suddenly moved with unprecedented speed. Mason cried out as his arm was jerked straight up, and he looked to see the woman holding tightly to the blade of his sword, lifting it in the air.


    He swore when he realized she was unfazed by its sharpness and its steel.


    Before he could let go of the sword and run away though, an arrow crashed forcefully into her wrist. Though it didn¡¯t pierce her soul-strengthened skin, there was definitely a visible mark where the arrow had struck and the force of it made her let go of Mason¡¯s sword long enough for him to reel his arm in and sprint away into the plant cover.


    He re-focused on Mana-blade knowing full well it would draw her ire, and began moving quickly back toward the door and Leornal hoping that when she launched herself at the source of mana she wouldn¡¯t be able to adjust course fast enough to follow him.


    A gust of wind told him that she had just rushed past him, and he turned back to see plants being torn up under her uneven feet as she charged. Focus activated and Mason could finally track her motions somewhat, and more than that, he noticed Leornal half-hidden behind a pillar motioning with his bow for Mason to get out of the way.


    He did so in a burst of speed, diving out of the way just in time to see Leornal fire a mana-infused scattershot. The charge of mana had drawn the mutant¡¯s attention, so she took the storm of splinters in the face and front side of her torso, barely slowing as they dug slightly into her.


    Mason wasted no time launching himself out from cover and trying to put his full weight behind an attack to pierce her in the back while she was unaware. She twisted rapidly, failing to catch his blade but spinning fast enough to knock him away nonetheless. He rolled as he hit the ground and hopped back to his feet, casting around quickly to try and find out where his sword fell.


    Leornal fired another arrow and shouted, ¡°Take that you undead monster!¡± to give Mason some time to figure out his next strategy.


    The sword was nowhere obvious, so Mason pulled one of his daggers out and tried to funnel mana into it to give it enough piercing power to do some damage when he threw it. It felt unusually exhausting to put his mana into it, and he wondered if he was less recovered than he thought from his fight with the guardians. Nevertheless, he sent the blade flying, and unlike the last time he attempted a throwing knife, this one hit its mark lodging itself shallowly between the woman¡¯s shoulder-blades and causing her to turn away from Leornal once more.


    ¡°God, you¡¯re a dumb beast,¡± Mason taunted as she turned to face him. He saw Leornal moving to a new position deeper in the room, and drew his staff to try and give himself a chance to respond appropriately when she attacked.


    Her speed proved too much yet again. When she slashed at him with her clawlike and engorged hands, he almost didn¡¯t have time to bring up his staff to block. Her attack was so strong that it took all of his willpower to not let go of it, and he was forced to use the momentum to throw himself out of her range, scrambling to his feet yet again and retreating a safe distance away.


    He felt a sharp pain as his body tensed the same way it did when he tried to use Analyze with depleted stamina. It felt as if his body was trying to draw energy where there was none, like sucking on a straw in an empty cup, and it made him sway where he stood.


    ¡°You probably shouldn¡¯t be this close,¡± Leornal warned, standing mere feet away from where Mason had retreated.


    ¡°Any chance you have a powershot left in you?¡± Mason hazarded hurriedly.


    ¡°Sure, what¡¯re you planning to do?¡± the archer nocked an arrow.


    ¡°Kamikaze. I¡¯ll probably be lucky to walk afterwards, so finish her off, alright?¡± Mason shot him a serious look then jumped out from where he had been hiding and rushed straight toward the mutant woman.


    Demon knew that his strength wouldn¡¯t hold out in an extended fight. Between everything he had handled in the past day or so in this city, his ¡°fully¡± rested state was still nowhere near where he would be if he had a full night¡¯s sleep and several good meals in him.


    But that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t draw deeply on his reserves. He took a deep breath and activated Focus, Mana Manipulation, and called upon the force he used to activate the spells in his staff as well as mana-blade. Pulling on everything he had, he drew every bit of mana he could to his staff. His attention was so concentrated on the single point he was pulling it all to that he didn¡¯t notice the lights in the room flickering, or the sharp exhale that was forced from Leornal¡¯s chest.


    The mutant began to move to grab that mana for itself, but Demon already knew that he was going to suffer for this risk. He charged headfirst and flung the head of his staff out before him as he launched everything he had- his own body included- toward the mutant.


    A veritable torrent of mana launched out of Demon as he flew. Though Torysen or an actually talented spellcaster could probably have drawn out more mana from their reserves, and anyone with a rune could probably produce an attack a thousand times more efficient, Demon knew that all he had to do was create an opportunity for Leornal.


    As the mana and the end of Demon¡¯s staff struck the mutant¡¯s chest, she staggered slightly, but the force of the mana being soaked into the ruin of her soul-infused flesh softened her defenses just like it had with the yetis.


    Leornal, meanwhile, concentrated on the force runes he knew, and the skill he could rely on for his Powershot. He drew his bow and felt the mana flowing within him, and with almost no hesitation he fired the instant Demon dropped out of his way.


    The arrow fired like a rocket, tearing straight through the mutant¡¯s chest and even cracking the back-wall that it found on the other side. Leornal grinned at the tingle of the power in his arms, and realized that was what his shot had always been missing. The mana beyond the arrow gave him something to focus on, to almost magnetize the shot to. It wasn¡¯t quite a spell, but it was an improvement to his Powershot skill, and he quickly glanced at his status screen to see he had gained five skill points in it.


    Making a mental note to definitely not mention that to Demon, he moved over to see if the kamikaze warrior was alright.

 ~ Twenty-Eight - City of Trapped Souls (Ten)

    The mutant woman writhed on the floor even as a viscous fluid sludged from the large wound in her chest. Leornal didn¡¯t want to think about what would have happened if that had been a fairer fight; her speed and resistance were frightening. Once again though, Mason had shown almost no reservation in putting his all into a desperate scheme for victory. It was equally as endearing as it was frustrating, and the archer found himself unsure what to make of his accidental companion.


    Leornal prodded Mason with the end of his bow to make sure he hadn¡¯t killed himself with that kamikaze move and Mason twitched and groaned on the ground in response. Reassured, Leornal left him there, and made his way through the plants to the spot the mutant had been digging up when Mason crept up on her.


    He shifted the dirt with his foot, but only found more dirt beneath it, webbed with pale roots that made it difficult to pull apart. He saw Mason¡¯s sword a few feet off and retrieved it to use as a shovel, cutting through the roots and then pulling the dirt up in chunks. It took a little more digging than he had originally committed to before he made any serious headway, but sure enough in time the sword made a dull clanking noise as it struck something hard and metallic.


    Using his hands, he cleared more of the dirt off to get a better look at what he had uncovered. There was a metal lid covered in simple runes which pulled mana from several stones bound to the surface of the box. It was no wonder the mutant had been digging hard to find this, though it was fairly surprising she hadn¡¯t discovered it sooner. He wondered idly if the city had been in a deeper sleep than he suspected before he powered up that console, but figured it was too late to do anything about it.


    Digging deeper, he found the edges of the lid on the box and pulled, opening up a small container filled with a few strange objects.


    On top of everything else was a short sword of a pretty similar length to the one Mason used. Leornal prodded it with mana, and realized that there was a rechargable mana stone in the hilt, and a rune that improved the mana conductivity of the blade, but nothing else that really stood out about it. Most likely the sword was used to be able to cast spells while fighting; a useful ability that wasn¡¯t entirely uncommon.


    If anything, given Mason¡¯s proclivity toward mana-blade, it would make that skill a little more efficient for him.


    Beneath it was a small golden disc with a domed opalite stone in the top. It looked a lot like a flying saucer, but the gold was clearly the same material as on the guardian orbs, so Leornal set that aside for Mason as well. He wasn¡¯t willing to risk getting involved in the soul arts himself, but if Mason wanted to risk it, that was his prerogative.


    Digging further in the box, Leornal found several potions that he couldn¡¯t identify; one shimmered almost gold and silver, one was a bright pink, and one seemed a muddy brown. He kept these for himself. There were also more mana crystals of a refined variety- they were fairly similar to the stones used as currency on Marra, but the process that was used to refine them had to be much different because they looked and felt different in a way he couldn¡¯t put his finger on.


    He looked at the box closely, hoping to make out any secrets it may be hiding, but ultimately decided that it must have simply been someone¡¯s emergency stash. It was built into the enchantment pattern that seemed to have maintained the life in this room so well, and he was impressed that someone would have used that enchantment to hide a cache. Glancing at the mutant, he wondered if that had been her idea, or if she were just hungry for mana when she stumbled upon it.


    Trudging back over to Mason, he knelt down this time and shook the pale boy. Mason groaned, but seemed to rouse, and he put his hand over his face as he slowly came to.


    ¡°What the hell was that, Demon?¡± the archer asked less kindly than he had intended.


    ¡°Wh-what?¡± He replied groggily, sitting up slowly and looking about. ¡°Are we out of the caves? Wait, no, there¡¯s a forest on the surface. What are all these strange plants?¡±


    Leornal frowned. This didn¡¯t seem good. ¡°Do you not remember the fight?¡±


    ¡°The fight?¡± Mason asked, looking exceptionally puzzled. He screwed up his face in thought and then after a second shouted, ¡°Oh! With the ugly digging woman. Right.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you kind of exploded in a burst of mana to try to take her down?¡±


    Mason took a second to think about that, ¡°Yeah, I guess it worked, then. I don¡¯t feel dead, anyways.¡± He tried to stand, swayed, then collapsed back on his butt. ¡°Okay, I kind of feel dead.¡±


    Leornal suppressed a grin, and Mason smiled in response when he saw it. ¡°That was a very dumb strategy. If I hadn¡¯t been able to take her down immediately, what was stopping her from ripping you to shreds?¡±


    Continuing to smile he explained, ¡°Well, I mean, I pretty much banked on the hope that you would take her out with that big of an opening. I mean, she was too tough for me to stab, but she definitely wasn¡¯t indestructible. On the other hand, I probably would have been torn to shreds if I had to fight her face to face anyways. I¡¯m uh,¡± he looked sheepish, ¡°Kind of exhausted?¡±


    The archer knew he should feel sympathetic for this younger man who had persevered through some fairly serious encounters pretty steadily, but for some reason his admission of weakness just frustrated Leornal more. Was he truly weak? Was he secretly strong? He was unpredictable, and worse, somehow just kept hanging in there well past the point he should have been destroyed.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Well get up and let¡¯s get going. It¡¯s your fault we¡¯re trapped in this city and I¡¯m not going to let you keep me here even longer because you can¡¯t hold your own,¡± Leornal barked.


    Mason¡¯s face rotated through several expressions; shock, anger, disappointment, then finally resignation. He nodded and stood, saying simply, ¡°Alright.¡±


    Leornal growled. This boy was too much. He should have fought and said there was no chance he could continue. Why did he just put up with everything? ¡°Nevermind, this room seems safe enough. At least the plants make for better company than broken stone and dust. I¡¯d rather you get enough rest to be of some use later on.¡± Leornal dug a small crystal ball out of his bag which he used to read his novels, and slumped back amongst the plants.


    ¡°Whatever you say, boss,¡± Mason agreed, plopping down right where he had been standing and laying back over several other plants, completely unfazed by the dead body laying several feet away.


    <hr>


    As they resumed their passage through the manor, Mason wished desperately for a warm bath and a cup of coffee. The dull chill that filled these caves was far more poignant after having left the warm, humid bio-room, and his exhaustion made the cold sink in even deeper to his bones.


    His head felt heavy and his body felt slow, but he steeled himself and put on a show of confidence as he walked obediently behind his older companion. He was second-guessing his decision to prioritize stealth in that earlier challenge. Shadowstalk had come in handy in the Biord¡¯s castle, but all of his fights had been direct and brutal here. He could have used the strength that would have come from the brute force challenge.


    He considered the three he had currently: spellwork, footwork, and scourge of the gremlins. He felt pretty confident he had been working on all three, though perhaps footwork had been overlooked in that last fight. But he wished they would cash in quickly. The rewards they offered could very well make the difference in¡­


    Mason¡¯s thoughts were interrupted as he shifted his consciousness to focus and drew his staff quickly. Leornal had already backed up behind him and fired an arrow as a yeti charged up and threw its body weight at Mason. The shot had distracted the yeti-beast enough that Mason was able to deflect most of the force of the initial strike. He felt invigorated by way his blood pumped from the sudden threat, but there was a weakness in his muscles that he couldn¡¯t ignore.


    He remembered his footwork this time, and stepped around the beast, baiting it to swing at him even as he dodged another attack. The two almost looked like they were performing a practiced dance, and Mason was grateful that this time he was being fully backed up by Leornal, rather than outmatched by fighting two of these by his lonesome.


    With the staff in his left hand for blocking and countering, Demon drew the new sword Leornal had found for him with his right. Mana-blade flowed more smoothly into the weapon than it had the simple steel sword, and he almost had to fight harder to rein in his mana than to keep the blade empowered. Cursing his small mana pool, he began to increase the speed of his steps, looking for an opening to strike.


    Leornal fired a powershot and the yeti cringed away from the force of the blow, and in that moment of distraction Demon dug the blade into its shoulder and dragged it down its body. It roared in pain and reeled back further, but a chill shot down Demon¡¯s spine and he felt his bloodlust rising. He stabbed forward again and carved another chunk from the yeti¡¯s chest, then before it could bat him away he spun away and stabbed it in the side.


    He cast stamina drain with the staff in his left hand, and watched the creature shrink into itself in its weakness, but that seemed to only inspire Demon¡¯s assault. When all was said and done, it was riddled with punctures and lacerations and laid in ribbons on the floor at his feet.


    Demon panted, wiping the blood off the sword and smiling as he focused on his pulse pumping through him. When had this become so much fun?


    When Leornal stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, he jumped slightly and only barely managed to prevent himself from attacking out of instinct. He felt his sword raise, and saw the archer move back defensively, but then he just smiled sheepishly and sheathed the blade before someone got hurt.


    ¡°Sorry, I guess I just got riled up,¡± Mason explained casually, dismissing the bout of violence. There was no point in being surprised that he had started to grow accustomed to this world. He was attacked on his first day here, and almost every day since. Why shouldn¡¯t he be ready to kill on a moment¡¯s notice?


    ¡°You used far more of your energy than you needed to on that thing. I know we have mana crystals to spare now, but that¡¯s no excuse to be reckless.¡±


    ¡°I just reacted, I¡¯m sorry. You fired some pretty rapid shots yourself,¡± Mason argued.


    Rather than argue the point, Leornal just shrugged and pointed on, but he knew there was more to be said later.


    Mason did too. Sure enough, he had gained two points in glamour over the last two fights. It was strange than an ability he didn¡¯t even know he was activating would be progressing so quickly. He had also gained two points in mana manipulation, mana-blade, and staff specialization, a point in blade specialization, footwork, stamina drain, focus, recovery, and even one in equip. Maybe he was just growing overall.


    He took his mind off of it by fiddling with the golden saucer that Leornal had given him. The runes on it were similar to the guardians, but also similar to the sword in a way that gave him the impression this was the language of this city. Strange then, that runes didn¡¯t translate the way voices did. And though the sword accepted his mana almost too readily, the saucer didn¡¯t respond clearly to his probes at all. Twice he felt like he had sparked it with his mana, but that spark wouldn¡¯t turn to anything meaningful.


    There was definitely something hidden in it. His instincts, heightened by Analyze, screamed that at him. And judging by the fact that none of the other items were extremely valuable, but that whole cache seemed rather well hidden, Mason suspected this was the real treasure. Leornal wanted nothing to do with it though, certain that it was just moments away from stealing his soul.


    It was strange that the Darkest Night were all so superstitious. Granted, soul-stealing was evidently a real thing, Mason highly doubted it was a common ability, and doubted even more that some strange little metal object would be able to do that on its own.


    However, throwing more doubt on Mason¡¯s confidence, it did seem like the guardian orbs were somehow related to trapped souls. The way those creatures talked when they were animated¡­


    He was tempted to probe that with his mana too, possibly try awakening it just enough to interrogate it, but whenever he even took the orb out of his bag, Leornal forced him to put it back away.


    The two traveled ever onwards, and on the rest of their way to the dome saw little of distinction beyond more ruined buildings and several more easily-dispatched yeti beasts. But they rightfully maintained their caution even as they stood on the bridge that would lead them into the dome.

 ~ Twenty-Nine - City of Trapped Souls (Eleven)

    Up until this point, the few doors they had run into that hadn¡¯t decayed or been destroyed had been easily blown apart with a little force magic. The dome, however, was a powerful, sacred place. It was designed to remain sealed for a hundred years even while the entirety of the city crumbled to ruin and died to the mysterious poison.


    And of course, because of that, it had a prominent set of double wide doors at least twenty feet tall that showed no sign of budging whatsoever even when Mason pushed with all of his might.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think to read up in that console about how to get into the place before you sent us all the way here?¡± he asked his companion while staring up and hoping to find a weakness in the edge of the dome.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I had access to every secret in the city. It was more like I had access to somebody¡¯s journal and a whole lot of newspapers and books,¡± Leornal complained, sitting down and looking up at the doors. ¡°We¡¯ve gotta get in there though. I mean, seriously, it could take us days to find a more promising lead on getting out of this city.¡±


    Mason turned from the doors and stared down at the towering, interconnected buildings all around them, ¡°Yeah, and it¡¯s still lighting up. You must have turned on a serious network of generators, because this city is coming to life with a vengeance. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if we ran into a lot more guardians and monsters if we tried to retrace our steps.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s been fun, but I guess we¡¯ll just have to die here. Its unfortunate your soul has been corrupted and you¡¯ll probably suffer for all of eternity, but I¡¯ll put in a good word for your when I reach the Font of Mana,¡± Leornal mocked.


    Ignoring the insulting part, Mason just retorted, ¡°You¡¯ve been having fun? I¡¯m so relieved to hear that!¡±


    Against his better judgment, Leornal grinned. ¡°Though your staff is truly vile, it¡¯s been pretty convenient for keeping us alive. And you¡¯ve adapted rather quickly to all this,¡± he gestured broadly.


    ¡°I¡¯m just trying to do my best, Leornal. And for what it¡¯s worth- I¡¯m glad that it was you who I was stuck down here with rather than Torysen. She scares the living shit out of me,¡± Mason laughed.


    ¡°She has that effect on people. Though she probably would have been able to take on most of these monsters much more effectively than either of us. Definitely better than you.¡±


    Mason turned to the door then in a fit of inspiration. He pulled the guardian orb out of his pack and lifted it up high in the air. Without a doubt, the runes engraved on the orb were similar to the ones on the door, but he¡¯d long since stopped being surprised that the city would use a consistent language.


    Nothing happened as he raised the orb, and he was disappointed, but less than surprised. He cast a glance back at Leornal, who watched him cautiously, and then used his mana manipulation to put a single point of mana into the orb.


    It began to shake and vibrate, and Mason saw the panels beginning to pull apart as that point of mana somehow expanded. He kept a tight grip on it and tried to present it to the door, hoping to notice some sign of resonance or familiarity that would indicate he had found the key. What else would a guardian be good for but to open a giant, fancy door?


    ¡°What are you trying to do, Demon?¡± Leornal asked as Mason struggled to keep the orb in his grips.


    Mason ignored him. There didn¡¯t seem to be any resonance at all. He couldn¡¯t detect mana flowing between the door to the orb or the orb to the door. There was a more direct approach to take, though.


    He slammed the orb against the door several times, and the strange metal seemed to be effective at producing a very loud knocking noise. Mason pressed his ear to the door and could hear it reverberating deeply, sounding as if it were moving further and further away.


    Then he heard the mechanical sounds that he had taken for generators earlier, but this time they were beyond the door. He took several steps back, and then the doors began to rumble, and slowly swing open.


    The light pouring out from behind the doors added perfectly to the drama of the moment, and Leornal squinted as he was cast full on in the glare.


    Shouting triumphantly, Mason peered through the open doorway, and tried to shove down the idea that the door opening had been a complete coincidence that he didn¡¯t deserve in the least. Beyond the doorway though, was a truly impressive place.


    The modernity of the dome made Mason reimagine every desolate part of the city he had walked through. This must have been what the whole city looked like, once. It was brightly lit and remarkably clean. The walls were made of polished stones and metals, and there were decorative pillars and statues tastefully scattered about to conjure an image of luxury.


    The center of the first floor was a seating area with a functioning fountain in the center. Rows of benches surrounded the fountain, and then behind them were open desks which were clean save for the smattering of crystals, scrolls, books, and loose papers and other assorted vaguely familiar office supplies.


    There were three rounded balconies visible going up the entire length of each wall, and rows of bookshelves were barely visible, though they seemed to be covered in as many crystal orbs, or blocks, as they were actual paper books. There were rooms visible down the corridors of bookshelves and other research materials which may have been experiment labs or meeting rooms of various natures.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Straight up, at a distance Mason presumed was halfway up the height of the dome, was what looked like a frosted glass ceiling. The dark shape in the center of its surface intrigued him, and he switched to mana-sight briefly. He couldn¡¯t quite see that far or through the glass, but he had an inkling that there was something powerful and unique up there.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen anything even remotely as sophisticated as this place since Marra. This is such a beautiful library,¡± Leornal spoke in awe, casting small bits of mana around so he could get a better view.


    ¡°It¡¯s well preserved, that¡¯s for sure. But it¡¯s quiet, and empty. Does the word mausoleum translate to you?¡± Mason asked.


    Leornal nodded grimly, ¡°It would be nice to see this place full of my people. Maybe there¡¯s knowledge here which could give us a fighting chance against the Corrosi and whatever else The Trials plan to throw at us. I wonder if they have stories here too...¡±


    Mason looked around, then back at the shadow above them. ¡°Ready?¡±


    ~~


    The library dome was deathly silent as they made their way through the bookshelf corridors and up the stairs toward the shadow that had drawn Mason¡¯s attention. Thankfully, within this place, none of the doors had been locked or barred.


    It was strange though; despite its desolation, the library looked as if it had been emptied mere minutes ago, not hundreds of years ago. Several of the desks had materials scattered about them like their researcher had just popped away to run to the bathroom, and might step back at any moment with a cup of coffee in hand.


    It boded dangerously for the two boys and they knew it. If anyone living remained in this place, they may be too powerful to face at all if they were capable of sealing this library so thoroughly. What had won, ultimately? The seal, or the poison? And if the seal was so strong, why weren¡¯t there more people still here?


    At the top of some stairs, they stood before two frosted glass doors on the edge of the room they had been aiming for. Leornal put his hand against it and took a deep breath, looking back at Mason to make sure he was also ready. Mason nodded, staff in hand and only a little nervous. The door swung open under Leornal¡¯s touch, and light poured out blindingly.


    <hr>


    Mason woke with his head resting on his crossed arms, leaning over a reddish, dark, wooden table. ¡°What?¡± he asked the air as he sat up. He tried to push his chair back, but found it was mounted to the ground. He leaned to the side to look closer at the table and the chair, and found that they were perfectly sealed to the wooden floor below.


    Pushing himself to his feet, he looked around hastily, uncertain how he had found himself in such a small, wooden room. A glance above revealed a bright lantern in a golden frame, hanging from the ceiling by a gold chain. He looked closer at the table and found that it wasn¡¯t just mounted to the ground, it looked like it had either been carved of the same tree, or actually grew out of it.


    He began to turn then, trying to take in his surroundings quickly as his heart rate quickened. This wasn¡¯t where he was supposed to be. There were bookshelves lining each of the walls in the hexagonal room, and even these seemed to be made of a bent and twisted rosewood that was naturally attached to the wall.


    Vines ran the length of the shelves and even curled around the base of the table he had woken up at, and as he followed that vine he saw that it actually ran up the table, and into an indent that was carved onto its surface. The indent led into the outermost circular carving, and the vine traced it the entire way, eventually tying back into itself. The rest of the table was covered in several concentric circles, with a round indent in the very center that looked like it would hug a bowl nicely.


    ¡°Is this¡­ a treehouse?¡± He pondered, scratching his head and stretching. Why was he so tired if he had been sleeping?


    Though they resembled bookshelves in their shape and style, the shelves along the room actually were covered in large bottles with multi-colored liquids. There were cobwebs strewn about some of the bottles, and dust on the shelves, but others showed signs of having been moved recently, and a few even looked brand new.


    Hesitant to touch them, Mason turned in place to look them all over. They seemed to be arranged by the color of the liquid inside- there were blues, greens, yellows, reds, purples, and even a silver looking liquid. Strangest was that the separation wasn¡¯t simply by shelf- the color of a bottle seemed to depend on its specific orientation on a shelf, and the pattern of colors seemed to move with a winding bent around the room.


    The color didn¡¯t seem to mix at all, and instead split jarringly even right down the center of potions. There were some that were half red, and half blue, but split vertically in a way that seemed impossible. The colors looked as if they were twisting and winding around the room like the branches themselves.


    He had the vague understanding that this place was not where he meant to be, or where he was supposed to be, but when he tried to remember there was simply nothing. His memories went no further back than waking up on the table.


    On one wall of the wooden room was the outline of where a door should be, but the door was conspicuously missing.


    Considering that he was probably stuck in this strange room until he did something, he took a random bottle off a shelf and looked through the glass. The fluid was dyed a dark blue, and sloshed around viscously as the bottle moved. He pulled the cork out and a fragrant scent wafted out, reminding him of wet stone and dirt.


    He almost pressed the bottle to his lips, but something screamed within him with such force that he cringed. A chill went down his spine, and he quietly accepted that as a bad idea. Then he looked down at the table, and he sat back in his chair with the bottle still in hand. He placed the bottle in the center of the table and waited.


    A few moments passed, and the liquid in the bottle started to ripple, as if the table were vibrating beneath it, and he thought he almost saw the vine twitch in the outer ring. He considered this, and then overturned the bottle, pouring its contents into the shallow basin in the table.


    Even though there was no connecting pathway between the basin and the concentric rings, as he poured, each ring began to fill with the liquid and glow. As the liquid spread through the outermost ring, the vine began to move restlessly, and the glow grew to the point where it was all Mason could see.


    Like looking through a window, he stared through the table and saw himself, fighting sloppily in a dark cavern lit by strange lights. The large white beast he fought was yeti-like, and seemed to overpower him with each blow.


    Disturbed by this strange vision, he picked the bottle back up and watched the fluid pull itself back toward the central basin and slowly fly back into the bottle. Mason corked it and moved back to the shelf. What a strange place¡­

 ~ Thirty - Wound Branches (One)

    Leornal¡¯s bow was nocked and drawn, but though he aimed straight ahead at the imposing figure in the middle of the room, his eyes wandered upwards to where Mason floated, arms spread as if crucified. The panic on Leornal¡¯s face was obvious, and a stark contrast to the peaceful expression on Mason¡¯s, and the calm, controlling look on the man in the middle¡¯s own.


    ¡°Put-put him down,¡± Leornal stammered out, trying to rally his confidence in the face of a man who put off a more powerful aura than he had ever felt in his life.


    ¡°Why?¡± The man asked with a sincerity in his voice that would have been hard to fake. ¡°Would you first put down the bow? I lifted your friend with hardly any effort. Do you really think I can¡¯t stop a simple arrow?¡±


    Leornal felt a tug, and the arrow was pulled from between his fingers and into the air. It had moved so fast the fletching cut his fingers, and a small bead of blood flowed out despite his callouses. Clearly at a loss, Leornal placed the bow slowly on the ground and raised his hands in a sign of defeat.


    ¡°Good, you¡¯re a smart man. I can see that in you. You weren¡¯t happy in your own world, but you were always very clever. I think these... ¡° there was a flash of light as the man thought, and then he finished, ¡°Trials, as you call them, have served you well. Your young wife would have been proud of who you¡¯ve become.¡±


    ¡°Who the hell do you think you¡­¡± Leornal initially roared out before going quiet and looking down as a wave of energy passed through the room. He couldn¡¯t let his anger get the best of him in front of this man. He¡¯d only experienced one other person that could create such an oppressive aura, and she was strong enough to raze an entire city.


    The man just considered him impassively, so Leornal spoke up again, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I am not here as an enemy.¡± When the man made no move, he was emboldened, ¡°I am Leornal of the Darkest Night, and New Marra, and that is my friend and charge that you have up there. You are the first person we have come across in this city with their wits about them.¡± He wanted to challenge the man for his sudden assault, but what could he do when he was so clearly outmatched?


    ¡°Yes, my people are dead. I can see that in your memories too. I should thank you- if you had not restarted the mana generation in this city, I might have remained in stasis so long that I, too, turned into one of those beasts,¡± the man explained as he begun to walk slowly toward Leornal.


    Leornal eyed him warily. The man was easily nine feet tall, and very thin. His skin had a pallor that betrayed his use of the soul stasis ability, but he had an incredible amount of mana stored in his body, and he seemed to be able to read Leornal¡¯s thoughts and control anything in the room with less energy expenditure than it took the archer to swallow. Would this man be the ruin of his whole people? Surely not even Sorynel could match him in a fight¡­


    The man chuckled, ¡°I¡¯m not quite that powerful. In fact, you could say I lack even certain capacities that you take for granted.¡± He stopped an arm¡¯s length from the archer, then crouched down to better look him in the eye. ¡°There¡¯s no point in hiding it from you. I¡¯ve read your memories and your mind- you are no threat to me.¡±


    ¡°I cannot ever leave this place,¡± the giant mage stated simply.


    Leornal sighed in relief, but he remained skeptical. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re going to do something horrible to fix that, then?¡±


    The man laughed again, a boisterous thing which Leornal had only heard from drunks in the past, ¡°No, no. There¡¯s no fixing that. I¡¯m more concerned with fixing that,¡± he said, rising to his full height and pointing at Mason, whose Demon glamour was now flashing intermittently.


    <hr>


    As Mason poured another potion into the basin, he was of two minds. The first felt conspiratorially as if he were onto the truth of this place, and the connections between the scenes in each of these memories. The other was merely in awe, enraptured as each potion brought on a scene that felt intimately familiar.


    He could see his own dark hands tapping against a table in an office building, staving off the boredom that threatened to consume him. Mana wriggled in his gut, tracing half-heartedly around a force rune he was certain was powerful enough to knock his desk right through the wall of the office. How many months had he been stuck in this dimly lit room?


    A man walked up in a uniform with a friendly and familiar face. He couldn¡¯t remember the man¡¯s name, but was certain he knew it. His own voice spoke the name his mind couldn¡¯t remember, ¡°Get me out of here, Bansel. I need to get back on the streets. I didn¡¯t study in the academy to be filling out paperwork for other people¡¯s cases.¡±


    ¡°You know I can¡¯t do that, Mowrytal. You¡¯ve only got another few weeks. Enjoy the rest,¡± The man tapped on his table and started to walk away and Mowry considered aiming the force blast at this infuriating man. Then the man stopped, turned, and added, ¡°You know what? Finish your paperwork, run the nightly checks on the storage room, and then you can go hit the training center until your shift is over. Can¡¯t have you getting rusty.¡±


    ¡°Sure you¡¯re not worried I¡¯ll harm someone again?¡± Mowry asked sarcastically.


    Bansel scowled, ¡°Don¡¯t joke, kid. You crossed the line and you¡¯re doing your time for it. If circumstances hadn¡¯t been what they were, we might have¡­¡±


    Mason was pulled out of the vision and his mind reeled as it tried to put that memory in place with the others. He had seen himself as a pale, thin kid in the other memories. But there he was, skin black as night, sitting in an office because he had gone too far on a case and let several people get hurt.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    A piercing pain went through his mind, and for a split second he saw himself as a slightly sturdier version of the skinny kid, but stuck on his knees, arms bound at his sides, wrapped around a very dark staff with a very prominent green gem. Standing before him was¡­ himself? The dark version, and his face was contorted in a snarl, and he was yelling, or would have been if the scene had been cleared.


    He had thought of pouring more from that bottle to see the rest of that scene, to try and make sense of these familiar visions, but that angry visage warned him not to dig deeper. So he replaced it on the shelf and pulled out another bottle. This one was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the fluid in it seemed to almost be more congealed than the others.


    It poured into the basin in a thick ooze, and the vision filled the room not as an all-encompassing awareness, but as a hazy display like a projector playing through fog.


    He saw himself as a gray, flat-faced boy, with narrow shoulders and only a fine layer of definition to his muscles. He was several inches taller than the skinnier him, but a large part of that was due to the confident set of his neck and shoulders.


    He stood in a line of ten boys who looked much like him, while a rotten, wrinkled old man in full battle regalia paced at the front of the wide room.. As the man looked at each boy, his eyes narrowed, daring the boys in turn to react in any way. Finally, after several minutes, the man called out, ¡°Geralt, step forth.¡±


    The pale-faced boy took a long stride forward, but kept his head held high as he was inspected. ¡°You have been chosen, but I cannot begin to fathom why. Three of the boys in the room show more promise than you in terms of martial strength. Four others exceed you in spellcraft. Almost all of them are of more respectable parentages. When the Trials first brought our people into this plane, a talentless boy like you would have been consumed straightaway.¡±


    Unarmed, the old man still held himself as if he could end Geralt¡¯s life with a single motion, and he stood close enough that Geralt could taste the scent of his decaying life force. Soul arts could only maintain a body for so long, even in someone as powerful as the Magnificent Maledite, the man who had trained almost every warrior strong enough to leave their original plane.


    ¡°I suppose that is why we send weaklings like you to the other planes anyways. You either change, or you die. You will escort the Lord Arlon, and he will continue your training until the two of you are ready to pass through the passageway. You will serve him with your life, and if he dies, you will not be allowed to return.¡±


    The scene shifted, and Mason felt a strong hand wrapped around his chin. His eyes looked up to see Geralt- the real, current, and much scarier Geralt- give him a look which sent flames of fear into his gut. His head held fast, his eyes glanced about the room and he realized he was bound once more, in an endless white room with several strange glowing lights pouring from high above to down below.


    ¡°Enough of this farce!¡± Geralt roared in Mason¡¯s face. ¡°You cannot walk freely in the branches of someone else¡¯s Tree of Memory. You do not deserve to see Arlon in his youth!¡±


    Geralt screamed, but having seen the strained look of concealed fear on his younger face, Mason couldn¡¯t help but see those same traces buried in his anger.


    Then he slipped from Geralt¡¯s grasp and found himself back at that rosewood table, a bottle still in his hands and a curiosity to dig deeper.


    <hr>


    ¡°You want to fix,¡± Leornal questioned, ¡°Mason?¡±


    ¡°You have another name for him, don¡¯t you?¡± The old mage said mischievously. ¡°Don¡¯t mince words with me, I know your mind. Demon,¡± He said, looking up at the floating figure. ¡°It¡¯s a fitting name for someone who broke all manner of tradition, rules, and honor without even so much as the grace to feel guilty for what he¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying he¡¯s actually evil?¡± the archest asked skeptically, ¡°He apologized to Torysen, and she even accepted it. And I¡¯ve seen the way he fights and solves problems- the staff does most of his work for him and he just hopes for the best,¡± Leornal spoke defensively, even as he was uncertain of why he was suddenly on Mason¡¯s side.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what makes a Demon? Under the influence of powers he knows nothing about? Acting without a second thought for the consequences beyond his own immediate needs?¡± The mage paced around Leornal, always keeping his eye on the archer to gauge his reactions.


    Leornal turned to try and keep up with the movement, ¡°Nevermind that. I¡¯m not a judge, I¡¯m an accountant and a member of Torysen¡¯s roving band. I don¡¯t make decisions, I do what I have to as well. And I have to get out of here and return to my band, and while you perform your voodoo on my friend, that is much harder.¡±


    The man looked sad for a moment and stopped in front of Leornal. ¡°I cannot return to my people, so why should I let someone so much weaker and less significant leave here? I could carve out a chunk of your soul, allow you a semblance of immortality as my slave here in the library, and who could stop me?¡±


    The mage motioned with his hands and a large stone gateway rose from the ground swiftly. Even as it formed, Leornal could make out an incredible amount of mana swirling around it. The stone was a polished and beautiful green and blue marble, and the runes carved into it were inlaid with what looked to be solid gold. It reached its full height and the energy condensed in the center of it, forming a swirling mass of energy that Leornal knew to be a portal.


    He also knew that the power required to raise a portal through normal means was very costly, and a team of powerful spellcasters would have to work with engineers for weeks to get it right. This portal had risen in seconds.


    Leornal fought the urge to bow, but instead looked the mage square in the face, ¡°Who are you, and what do you really want?¡±


    ¡°I am the last survivor of this great city, keeper and condemned of the library. You can call me Artorias.¡±


    ¡°There were two parts of my question,¡± Leornal reminded.


    With another boisterous and very fake laugh, Artorias responded, ¡°You are right. I am looking for revenge, and unless I feel like waiting for several thousand years, I am hoping that your Demon may be my best chance to attaining that.¡±


    ¡°You plan to attain this by¡­ fixing him?¡±


    ¡°Inside that frail body are three souls, all of which have been manipulated and bound by the Trials. That means three unstable energy signatures. Three distinct identities. Three distinct branches of the Tree of Memories,¡± Artorias¡¯ eyes were fixated on Mason¡¯s form as it shimmered with Glamour.


    ¡°It¡¯s a wonder he¡¯s even alive,¡± mused Leornal, following the mage¡¯s gaze.

 ~ Thirty-One - Wound Branches (Two)

    When Mason blinked, he saw Mowry and Geralt towering over him, but when he opened his eyes, he was back in the tree. In the memory vials, it was as if he were them, or they were him, but having seen them in that white room, he knew that they were somehow distinct from him.


    He sat back, and tried to focus somewhere else other than the memories, or the white room, or this strange potion-filled place. Hazily, he saw words.


    Glamour has levelled up (4) - Level 10


    Congratulations, you¡¯ve unlocked a new soul art! Memory Walker!


    Walker: Few can see the branches that hold the lives of all who pass through reality. You have touched on these secrets, and can begin to walk among them.


    You¡¯ve completed the hidden challenge Walker of the Tree of Memories: Discover the branch of the Tree of Memories housed within your soul. +2FP Willpower, +1FP Intelligence.


    You¡¯ve unlocked the continuing challenge: Walker of the Tree of Memories.


    Walker of the Tree of Memories: Learn to move beyond your branch, and explore the realm of memories. As you unlock its secrets, this challenge will update with rewards.


    The words made no sense to him on first sight, but he heard himself grumble, ¡°Another challenge with no clear solution.¡±


    His own voice startled him, and he began to Focus on those words hard enough that Analyze triggered. Mason shuddered at the force of all the thoughts that poured into him then. The Trials. He was Mason Nevels, who had decided to fight as hard as he could to survive and damn the consequences.


    Those consequences were the birth of the Demon, as the souls he had taken warred within him. Then those memories¡­ Of course, they were Geralt and Mowry¡¯s. That is why they were so angry with him. Sure, he could have their souls, but what did he know about how to do anything with them?


    They didn¡¯t get angry with him until he invaded their privacy, until he found a way into their memories. He looked around again, and the memory was fuzzy, but he knew now why he had seen himself fighting that strange, white beast. They had been moving toward the dome, but was this place what was within?


    The Tree of Memories, the challenges had indicated, must be where he was. But if this branch were supposed to be housed within his soul, then it couldn¡¯t be in the dome. He glanced at where the doorway was conspicuously missing. If he were stronger, perhaps he could pass that threshold, but all he had was this table, and his soul¡­


    He closed his eyes and saw Geralt still fuming over him. The man couldn¡¯t harm him, not with Mowry protecting him, but if Mason were to push deeper into their memories, perhaps Mowry would reconsider their alliance.


    His hands were wrapped around his staff where he was bound, and he clenched his fists around it tightly. It was the first motion he had made in this place other than shifting his head or eyes, but he knew more was to come. Focusing on the staff, he filled it with energy and felt a softening of the muscles in his arms and shoulders as the staff came free of where it was suspended in the air, and his body could finally move around it.


    Whipping the staff around ahead of him, he stood in a graceful motion and aimed it at Geralt with his own fierce expression. Something caught him off guard momentarily. He actually felt the changes that came over him when he used the staff. That alter-ego, Demon, was somehow manifest. In that moment, the changes were so obvious Mason could hardly believe he had ever missed them. He was fill with an inner fury, and it spawned a determination to use any power available without second guessing it.


    Geralt saw it too, and he hesitated for just a moment. He quickly recovered, stepping forward so that the staff pressed against the center of his chest, leaning so that his height added to his intimidating presence. But Demon saw the hesitation, and was bolstered by the sense of authority he felt over this soul place.


    ¡°Back off, Geralt,¡± Demon roared, shoving the staff forward into the cavity of Geralt¡¯s chest.


    The man stepped back and then grounded himself, glowering back, ¡°You are still weak, boy. So you can stand. Are you proud?¡±


    ¡°A few weeks ago I thought I was going to die from seven points of mana running through my body, so you know what? Yeah, I¡¯m feeling awfully proud that I can maintain a presence in my own damned soul. So back off!¡± Demon roared, pulling energy into his staff that he knew Geralt would notice.


    Mowry stepped between the two, placing his hand calmly on the staff, ¡°Mason, you¡¯ve already claimed his soul. Would you really harm him here, in this place?¡± His face was pulled tight as in worry, but there was a look in his eye that made Demon question whether Mowry was as much of a saint as he appeared to be.


    ¡°At this very moment, Mason is behind me. I am Demon, and I will not stand for either of you treating me as a child to be intimidated or bullied. You have knowledge that I need, skills that can keep me alive, history which I can learn from. Yet you¡¯re letting your egos prevent me from gathering any of those because of what? Are you afraid of what I¡¯ll see inside each of you?¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Mowry¡¯s resting hand gripped the staff as his eyes hardened, ¡°Do you believe in nothing sacred?¡±


    ¡°Nothing that will stand in the way of my finding the power to fight in the Trials,¡± Demon said without a hint of uncertainty.


    ¡°Boy,¡± Geralt started.


    ¡°Refer to me as I am,¡± Demon countered.


    ¡°Demon, then,¡± Geralt spat out. ¡°You ask for too much. You are not my king.¡±


    Demon pulled back the staff and let his demeanor relax. He could feel the horns on his head fading, and his stature shrinking slightly as the glamour dissolved. ¡°No, I am something much greater than your king. Look around- this is my soul. I may not have intended to bring either of you here, but if you wish to remain without me forcibly pulling every memory, skill, and bit of energy from what is left of you, then we should begin to figure out what even ground looks like.¡±


    Mason looked between Geralt and Mowry then, and saw that neither was preparing any obvious signs of rebellion. Nevertheless, if looks could kill, Mason would be far outmatched by the bitterness apparent on each of their faces.


    <hr>


    ¡°The Tree of Memories will help him understand that he is not composed of merely his own history now. His actions are unprecedented. I¡¯ve never before seen someone house two complete souls within them without first having tremendous internal power. That dynamic could tear him apart, of course. But if it doesn¡¯t, I think we¡¯ll both be astounded by the results,¡± Artorias intoned.


    ¡°How is it even possible? He can¡¯t even cast a true spell, yet you¡¯re saying he used a soul art that you¡¯ve never even seen?¡± Leornal asked.


    ¡°This plane we¡¯re on is not like any of the material realms I have ever been on,¡± Artorias started. ¡°It¡¯s guided by a magical force which makes my own prowess look like a bag of party tricks. And it seems that for some reason, that force has been enabling your companion to make use of the abilities in that staff by powering them directly.¡±


    ¡°That force is casting the spells for him? Wait, so they¡¯re being cast by a god?¡± Leornal cried out, shocked.


    Artorias looked solemn, ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly. These Trials are something I cannot begin to explain so quickly. I can only guess by what I see in your memories. But more to the point, if that boy cannot begin to tame the souls within him, his own will surely corrode to the point of ruin. Even a master of Soul Arts would strip a soul to pieces before consuming it.


    ¡°Most would completely remove the Branch of Memories within any soul they meant to take, or keep only a few specific memories that they need. But he has the entirety of both souls as whole as they were in their own bodies, and that staff is possibly the only thing keeping them at bay in any way.¡±


    ¡°That staff seems like much more trouble than it¡¯s worth,¡± Leornal muttered.


    ¡°Why do you think I haven¡¯t attempted to take it for myself? I¡¯m doomed enough in this library without corrupting my soul further with something so treacherous,¡± Artorias chuckled.


    Leornal began to pace, ¡°How is someone as powerful as you doomed?¡±


    The chuckle turned sad as he explained, ¡°This whole place is bound by a Soul Stasis spell not unlike what destroyed the rest of the city¡¯s inhabitants over time. My power is still great within the boundaries of the spell, but I will be lucky if I can even maintain it for much longer, let alone leave its protective boundaries.¡±


    ¡°Soul Arts are taboo among my people. I¡¯ve heard of how powerful they can be, but it is said that no one can cast them without ultimately being destroyed by them. My people call it a fate worse than death.¡±


    ¡°Well both your friend and I are prisoner¡¯s within our own souls. I think you can assess the value of the power yourself.¡±


    <hr>


    Even with his eyes open, he was no longer disconnected from that place within his soul, or the voices of Mowry and Geralt. They both used their own methods to try to reason with him, but he tuned out their voices like he was turning the volume dial on a car radio. Once more he contemplated the dark, rich wood of this room, and the myriad potions that represented the memories of himself and the souls he had taken.


    What information lay within those bottles?


    Seeing just a brief snippet of the lives of Mowry and Geralt, he felt like he understood something that until now he had been completely missing. They were entangled with him, not merely hostages held in some room that he didn¡¯t understand. Theoretically, he assumed, he should be able to pull up their memories as easily as his own, but that clearly wasn¡¯t the case.


    Mason couldn¡¯t wrap his head around what it truly meant to have taken their souls, but he was beginning to see that mana was the first key to being able to explore an inner world buried within him.


    He felt his mana, a faint, small pool in the core of his chest that burned ever so slightly, and he could pull it around his body with a bit of focus. It was easier to push it out all at once, or throw it in the form of Mana Blades. In order to precisely pull it around with him, he had to devote his full attention and a great deal of energy.


    There was another spot in the center of his chest where the mana seemed to form and also remain, and he imagined that must have something to do with his soul. He pictured a small, white orb, though with his limited control of mana he could tell almost nothing about it. Still, there were secrets within him that he was just beginning to understand.


    Mana, his soul, the Tree of Memories. How were they tied together? What powers could he develop by learning to master their secrets?


    He remembered the rune then, but could tell Mowry was in no mood to seed his thoughts on it. Nevertheless, he had studied it enough to bring it up from his own memory. With that image pulled up in his mind, he began trying to pull that small seed of mana within him to loop around in that shape. It seemed to resist his pull the further he got along that path, but at the same time, the mana grew agitated, almost vibrating under his concentration.


    But something clicked in him as he almost finished the rune. This was the Tree of Memory. He was not truly aware in his body, not fully. What would even happen if he finished the rune?


    More importantly- how did he get here?


    It was a serious effort to make contact with his true memories, and he felt himself pulled from the Tree of Memory as he did so. His consciousness flittered in a limbo somewhere between the Tree of Memories and the soulscape which housed his companions. At the least, however, here he was present and aware. He could remember entering the Trials, that strange assessment and the days that followed with him eating scavenged food and fighting small wild animals.


    But he could not for the life of him remember how he had gotten into the Tree of Memory.

 ~ Thirty-Two - Wound Branches (Three)

    Forcefully putting down the complaints of the two souls within him, Mason had begun to go through more of the memory potions in hopes of getting a better understanding of both himself and these two new parts of him.


    He felt dizzy with confusion, but he was beginning to understand why the staff would have given him the Demon glamour. He could walk around fine as Mason- that was the core of his identity, the history he could pull on at will. But his power came from more than that. Mowry had shaped his soul, enabling him to begin to harmonize with and utilize mana. Geralt had¡­ some impact on him as well, though he suspected he had seen little of its potential yet.


    So when he fought, he was not truly himself. The time may come when he could fight at full strength as Mason, but that would require fully integrating the parts of Mowry and Geralt that were stored inside of him. Of course, it was possible that doing so would change who he was into something more like Demon, but it was too soon to know.


    Whatever his fate, his first few potions had been informative, showing him Geralt¡¯s time training for the Trials, and Mowry¡¯s time as some sort of police officer, but there was so much to a life that even after exploring several more visions of their lives, he felt like he barely understood them at all.


    This room had seemed small when he had first appeared here in the cozy lantern light and the subtle warmth, but each time he pulled out of a potion haze, it seemed like there were more potions on the shelves. Worse, instinct told him that this room was not possibly enough to contain their whole memories. Beyond that sealed passage must be several more rooms like this.


    He trembled as he glimpsed the gravity of the undertaking. Could he ever hope to understand the lives of the people he had captured?


    If he sat there trying to process every memory, he knew he might be stuck here for ages, but what else could he do when he didn¡¯t even know where reality was? Putting it so plainly unsettled him. Leornal was counting on him, and could be in trouble. He couldn¡¯t just stall here forever.


    He needed to find a way out of this inner world and back to his body.


    Sighing, he closed his eyes and began to open himself back up to the voices and presence of Geralt and Mowrytal, who were both much more qualified to deal in magical and soul arts than he was.


    His awareness shifted back to that white room, but he froze where he stood, staff held tightly in front of him. All around him were sharpened metal stakes positioned so that any motion grander than shifting his weight would injure him. The spikes were layered so that he could neither crawl through them or even climb above them, so he simply froze.


    Geralt laughed as he saw the stricken look on Mason¡¯s face, ¡°Looks like we finally got your attention. We¡¯re not without power, and I¡¯d like to see you do much with that staff with your rather limited mobility.¡±


    To the side stood Mowry, whose face was drawn but otherwise remained unreadable. Mason looked between them both, trying to gauge the situation.


    ¡°What¡¯s your end-goal, Geralt? Couldn¡¯t you draw these spikes a little further and rip me to shreds?¡± Demon spoke with a tinge of amusement in his voice, even as the fear from his Mason persona sped up his heart rate.


    ¡°I thought it would be wiser to teach you a little respect, and a great deal of fear. Mowry gave you power, built you this precious little chamber in your soul so that we could all pal around and have great fun, but you seem to forget that we stand where you are most vulnerable, and can tear you down from the inside,¡± Geralt gestured as he spoke, and several of the spikes seemed to come alive. They swayed and rippled, as if itching to shoot forward.


    ¡°Suicide, then?¡± Demon asked with a raised eyebrow. ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem much like the Maledite warrior who persevered through such harsh training. Power at all costs- isn¡¯t that what your old teacher taught?¡±


    Geralt visibly trembled, ¡°You walk where you have no right. Do not tempt my anger, Demon!¡±


    Demon ignored him and turned to Mowry, ¡°Or you. Are you okay with allowing things to end like this? It seems simple and pathetic. You¡¯d lose the ability to help your sister or your people. And who knows what will happen when the rest of the humans arrive. Sure, the Darkest Night can cast some spells and crush them, but how many lives might be lost in the battle? Do you want to risk that a few vengeful humans might stumble upon a power even greater than what I have and lay waste to your city? We are in the Trials, after all.¡±


    ¡°I have only ever tried to help you,¡± Mowry whispered.


    ¡°And I have only tried to do what¡¯s best, and what will keep me alive!¡± Demon shouted in return. ¡°Can you fault me for wanting to find strength in your memories? Would you do any different? Either of you?¡±


    The metal spikes stilled, and the three stood still, each trying to gauge how best to move forward.


    After several tense moments, Mowry waved his hand, ¡°Enough.¡± The bars turned to dust and fell, and Geralt widened his stance to show his height and strength off to the dark man. Mowrytal simply shook his head, ¡°This is pointless, Geralt, and you know it as well as I do.¡±Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°We cannot allow this boy to bully and rule us! I serve only King Arlon!¡± Geralt screamed now, his face turning red and the muscles in his neck bulging. He stood still, but it seemed as if a great internal force held him there, and the way he clenched his fists made it look as if he wanted nothing more than he wanted to rip the others into tiny pieces.


    ¡°Would you rather war within him and allow us all to perish finally, or should we make our demands and work together?¡± Mowry inquired.


    ¡°What would you demand for your help, Mowry?¡± Mason asked, dropping his staff at his feet and putting his hands in the air.


    Mowry considered him, and nodded his head respectfully, ¡°Stay out of our memories. Do not make demands of our power or our history.¡±


    Mason shook his head, and was about to protest when Geralt spoke up, ¡°We can show you what you need to see, boy. There are memories you need, skills of ours that we can teach you.¡±


    ¡°But you must respect our privacy,¡± finished Mowry.


    Mason sighed, and then acknowledged them, ¡°That seems a simple enough request. The Tree of Memory is too mixed up. I can hardly make sense of all of my own memories now though, let alone tell them from each of yours. How do you plan to solve that?¡±


    ¡°Let me take care of that. In the meantime, I believe you have a more pressing concern,¡± Mowry reminded him.


    Sighing again, ¡°Yeah, why the hell can¡¯t I get back to my body?¡±


    Geralt grunted, ¡°Because you¡¯re weak.¡±


    Mowry shot Geralt a look and then explained, ¡°Your soul is twisted and confused with our presence here. It left you very vulnerable, and it seems someone has taken that opportunity to force you inwards. The only way out is to take control of your own soul and guide yourself out.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ how do I do that?¡±


    ¡°Draw out that rune. Geralt and I will also focus on it, and its effects in the real world should give us an anchor to pull you toward.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll give it a shot.¡± Mason picked his staff back up and began focusing all of his energy on shaping the rune. He gripped tightly with his mind onto that seed of mana within him, and tried to will it along the lines of the rune. Several seconds later, he felt another force grab onto it, guiding it down the same line, and seconds after that, a third force.


    When the third joined, it seemed as if the whole process was going to fall apart. Rather than moving smoothly along the lines, the mana jerked and jumped, as the three unevenly exerted their wills upon it. Mason resisted the urge to swear, and then he felt the shift as Demon took over. With Demon¡¯s will, the other two fell into line more naturally, though the progress through the rune was still stuttery at best.


    After they had made several rotations through the rune, the mana seemed inclined to almost pull itself down the proper paths. Demon felt a charge of energy building into the rune, and a slight eagerness from Mowry¡¯s will helped him to know it was time to finish this. He pushed with his mana into the rune, and felt the whole thing collapse in on itself, replaced with a completely different energy.


    Force exploded out, and a rush of sensations spread throughout Demon¡¯s limbs.


    <hr>


    ¡°It seems he¡¯s come to an accord,¡± Artorias intoned as he lifted a hand casually into the air to block the waves of force rolling off Demon¡¯s suspended body.


    When the outpouring of energy ceased, Demon fell from the sky and crashed unceremoniously to the ground, groaning but still holding tightly to his staff.


    Leornal stood up from the cushioned bench he had been resting on, and walked over to make sure he wasn¡¯t too badly hurt. He¡¯d long since given up being worried; if Artorias were going to kill him, he could have done so with ease, he had no doubt.


    Looking down, Leornal laughed at Mason¡¯s twisted form. He hadn¡¯t fallen gracefully, but nothing looked broken at least. ¡°You survived your endeavor then?¡± He asked as he offered his hand.


    Mason took it and pulled himself up, ¡°Yeah, I guess. Care to explain what¡¯s going on?¡±


    Artorias walked up then, and held out a hand to Mason who shook it awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Artorias spoke for him, ¡°I am Artorias, the keeper of this library. But you have been in a much greater repository of knowledge, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Mason looked over at Leornal questioningly before asking Artorias, ¡°Should I be thanking you or fighting you? I get the impression you were the one who stuck me in that place. Leornal definitely doesn¡¯t have the skills for that.¡±


    Leornal scowled even though it was obviously true, ¡°It would be a waste of time to attack him. Artorias is some monstrosity of a mage. Pretty sure he could turn this whole place to dust with a wave of his hand.¡±


    ¡°Two waves, but it would cost me my life. No matter though, I take no offense to the threat. Demon, did you find peace with the souls within you?¡±


    Mason shrugged, ¡°Well, we agreed that killing each other would be bad, and that my enslaving them and stealing their memories would also be bad. Then they helped me use the rune I¡¯ve been working on for days now.¡±


    That made Artorias look a little closer at him, ¡°You used a rune after only several days? Those two must have given you a great deal of help then.¡±


    ¡°Why did you do¡­ whatever you did to me?¡±


    ¡°I am a soul bound to this library with some unsettled business with the outside world, and you are a mysterious person with a legendary staff and very unusual abilities. I was hoping that if I helped you, you would do me a good turn in exchange,¡± Artorias explained, smiling.


    Mason looked at Leornal who just shrugged- that was as good an explanation as he had gotten. ¡°What kind of good turn?¡±


    ¡°For now, growing stronger will be gift enough. I¡¯ve seen your memories and discussed with Leornal. It seems there are a great many races that have been drawn to this plane. I will return you to them, and I merely ask that you help them survive for a little longer. When you feel like you are strong enough to leave the plane, bring the strongest allies you have to me.¡±


    ¡°I feel like you¡¯re asking me to sell my firstborn in exchange for power,¡± Mason said skeptically.


    ¡°If you were a soul with unfinished business and you were completely trapped, wouldn¡¯t you make a deal, any deal, that might help you settle that score, no matter the cost?¡± asked Artorias innocently.


    Two voices within Mason assented, so he nodded as well.

 ~ Thirty-Three - Wound Branches (Four)

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Mason asked. He stared at a pile of pale corpses high enough to bury himself in. They had passed through the portal Artorias formed and it had brought them to the entrance of the hive, but a great deal had changed in all the time they were trapped.


    ¡°I¡¯d imagine Torysen escaped and put up a pretty good resistance,¡± Leornal looked over the pile and out into the daylight blinking and squinting with discomfort.


    Crawling over the unceremonious pile of gremlins at the cave¡¯s mouth, Mason grinned stretched his body out to revel in the sunlight. There was really no telling how long they had been in that cave, but he knew it was too long.


    He pushed those questions aside and instead turned his face up toward the sun, ¡°I can¡¯t even begin to explain how happy I am that we got to teleport out rather than wandering through any more of those tunnels. The Trials might not have much that¡¯s convenient to them, but a good old escape portal reminds me of some of my favorite video games.¡±


    Leornal had been inspecting the packed earth in front of the entrance and every sign of fortification and struggle in the area, but he turned to look curiously at Mason for the end of that sentence. ¡°Video games? That translates. Why does that translate? You couldn¡¯t possibly have those in your world without mana.¡±


    It was Mason¡¯s turn to look confused, ¡°We used electricity, not mana.¡± He considered how to explain electricity, ¡°It was like using lightning bolts to power machines. We could see moving pictures and control them with, well, a controller. Sometimes a keyboard or a camera?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯d be surprised how much of that makes sense in my language. Not all of it though. You mean lightning bolts like the big streaks of light during a storm? I suppose there are runes to capture their energy¡­ but humans can¡¯t use runes at all, can they?¡± Leornal had lost all focus on the campground at this point, trying desperately to picture what Mason meant.


    ¡°Well, electricity can be controlled a lot of different ways. We used chemistry, which you guys might know as alchemy, to store energy, and then circuit boards which are like¡­¡± His face scrunched up as he tried to explain something that seemed so common to him, ¡°runes made out of metals and plastics?¡±


    Leornal nodded, but didn¡¯t look like he understood much at all. ¡°Your world sounds fascinating. I guess without mana, you had to find some way to progress.¡± He looked uncertain. ¡°I¡¯m uncomfortable suggesting this but maybe you and Mowrytal should compare memories. That is something you can do in that tree Artorias kept talking about, right?¡±


    Though he didn¡¯t completely understand why, Mason smiled at that as he responded, ¡°Probably. I¡¯m still figuring out how it all works myself. But it seems possible enough.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Leornal said awkwardly, turning his attention back to the markings on the ground. ¡°There are a lot of signs of a pretty major fight here, but the mountain of bodies makes that clear enough. It also doesn¡¯t look like they have written us off for dead. It is customary to leave an embellishment rune on the site of a fallen companion, but they have only left a sign for danger.¡±


    Mason followed where Leornal was pointing to a spot between where all the tents had been set up. He flicked on mana sight and saw a figure, but it meant nothing to him beyond what Leornal had already explained. ¡°But they¡¯re gone, obviously. Do you think they just trusted us to catch up if we survived?¡±


    ¡°That would make the most sense. They probably planned to report the danger to the council, and then return here on a rescue mission if it was permitted. We¡¯d be wise to make it to the city before they make their report, but we¡¯ll have to hurry to catch up with them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask; you all just refer to where your people live as the city, but don¡¯t you have a name for it?¡± Mason asked.


    Leornal made a disapproving noise, ¡°The council did not adapt well to the Trials. They insist on calling the city New Marra, and you¡¯ll find that there, we refer to ourselves as Marrans.¡±


    Once again, Mason was confused. ¡°Marrans, huh? But Shayjol¡¯s family said they could be called the Darkest Night.¡±


    ¡°All of us who live outside of the city have taken up that name,¡± Leornal said proudly. ¡°The Corrosi began to call us that when we began fighting back against them and winning. We wear it as a badge of honor to prove that we are changing. The council sees it as shunning our roots.¡±


    ¡°The Trials call you the Darkest Night too. Or, it called Mowry that. I, uh, received a notification about it earlier.¡±


    Leornal gave him a curt nod, ¡°The one thing the Trials seems to respect is the ability to define one¡¯s self. Wait, hold on.¡± He held out a hand to indicate Mason stop moving.


    ¡°What is-¡± Mason started, but another sign from Leornal convinced him to shut up.


    He watched Leornal and tried to follow his line of sight. Sure enough, off in the distance the bushes rustled and a skittering sort of babbling noise echoed back to them quietly. ¡°Goblins.¡±


    Leornal pulled out his bow and loosed an arrow, striking a tree above where they stood concealed. One of them made a squawking noise, and then the rustling pressed further away as the goblins ran off. ¡°Damn little creeps. Must have only been a few of them or they would have attacked. Definitely would have tried to do some damage if I had injured one.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°How dangerous are they, really?¡± The only thing Mason could think to gauge their threat levels off of were the games and stories of Earth, but some of those made goblins the weakest of all enemies, but in some of them they could be a pretty serious threat.


    ¡°Trivial if its just one or two. They probably could smell the death around here and were looking for a meal. It¡¯s unusual to see many of them this far south though, but maybe a few got bold and thought they could set up a new tribe. That¡¯s why the Roving Bands exist, anyways.¡±


    <hr>


    The expedition to catch up with the rest of the band was generally uninteresting. They didn¡¯t seem to be all that far behind, so the path was clear and the surrounding areas had been scouted thoroughly by Torysen¡¯s typically cautious patrolling style, which seemed to have been kicked up a notch since her mistake with the hive.


    So Mason used that time to familiarize himself a little further with his latest improvements.


    Congratulations! For crossing the threshold of 35 Focus Points, you¡¯ve achieved level four. Receive one bonus FP to any skill.


    Considering everything he had been through, level four really didn¡¯t seem like much to be impressed by. Shayjol had already been that level before they entered the city of the Biord, after all. He shrugged and put the focus point into endurance, because if he planned to depend on more than spells, he would need to rely on his Focus and anything that would prevent him getting worn out during an extended fight.


    You¡¯ve learned your first spell: Indiscriminate Force.


    Indiscriminate Force (Unrefined): A raw rune capable of transmuting your mana into a powerful, uncontrolled force. This power can be refined through further mastery of your Runecraft skill.


    Looking further at his abilities, he realized that was a skill he had discovered as well.


    Runecraft: Utilizing a primitive form of spell-weaving, you can move your mana into practiced patterns to draw out magical effects. Creativity unlocks greater potential of this skill.


    Mowrytal had said something about giving him a basic rune so he didn¡¯t bias his ability to create his own effects, so he wasn¡¯t completely confused by this new skill. But without Mowry and Geralt¡¯s help, he wasn¡¯t sure he could even form the force rune, let alone make adjustments to it to create other effects.


    He sighed, but when Leornal looked at him curiously, he just waved the other man off.


    It had been a while, so he looked over his full status page.


    Demon of the Darkest Night:


    Amateur Magical Slayer


    Level 4 (38 FP)


    Health: 84/84 (2.7/hr)


    Mana: 40/40 (3/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 40/40


    Stamina: 83/83 (4.1/min)


    Strength:  6 (0)


    Agility:  6 (+1)


    Intelligence:  9 (+1)


    Willpower:  8 (+2)


    Vitality:  6 (0)


    Endurance:  7 (+1)


    Creativity:  6 (+2)


    Active Skills: Focus (17), Mana Vampirism (10), Analyze (7), Life Drain (6), Recovery (9)


    Passive Skills: Equip (6), Staff Specialization (17), Blade Specialization (12), Footwork (3)


    Mana Arts: Mana Sight (14), Mana Manipulation (17), Mana Tolerance (22), Mana-Blade (3), Shadow Stalk (10), Glamour (10), Stamina Drain (5), Runecraft (1)


    Spells: Indiscriminate Force (1)


    Soul Arts: Soul Steal, Walker


    The influence of the Trials was hard to really gauge. He was definitely stronger and faster than he once was. The fact that he could cast magic was a rather hard-to-overlook improvement, too. But did that have to do with these stats and skills that he was unlocking? Or did the Trials just show him what was already happening inside?


    Mason decided to bring Leornal into his musings after all, ¡°So in a lot of video games in my world, there were systems like the Trials. You could see your stats and all sorts of other screens and such that would let you improve your virtual character. It¡¯s weird that the Trials are so similar though. Did your world have the same thing in your games?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Leornal thought, ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly known for playing those games, but it does seem like many of them had much in common with the system of this world. For the most part though, the levels and statuses are fairly unobtrusive here.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, challenges motivate you to try out possibilities close to what you¡¯re capable of, right? And the focus points encourage you to improve on your own physical and mental abilities, with some sort of additional benefit. Doesn¡¯t that mean the status system in the Trials merely motivate us?¡± Leornal talked with a glassy look in his eye, and Mason presumed he, too, was looking at his status screen.


    ¡°The really difficult part of the Trials are all the assaults and threats,¡± Leornal added absentmindedly, though this obviously caught Mason¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Wait, hold on. I think you forgot I¡¯m new. What do you mean by that?¡±


    Leornal did stop, and looked at Mason analytically. ¡°We just fought legions of soul-dead beasts, and you fought and stole the soul of an invader from another plane. Surely you didn¡¯t just set that aside in your mind? The Trials force conflict. It¡¯s why waves of goblins show up to wage war on Marra every few days. Why the Corrosi slaughter their way through our forests.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t get the introduction, did you?¡± Leornal looked shocked now.


    Mason just sighed, ¡°What extremely important thing am I glaringly unaware of now?¡±


    ¡°When a race arrives in this plane, they have a small settlement with supplies provided to them so that they do not die of the usual boring deaths, and a representative of sorts explains to them the basics of The Trials, how to use their status screens, how important it is to grow strong. Then they tell you that the other races want to kill them and that monsters will spawn randomly forever and the representative leaves your group to their fate.¡±


    Mason blinked, stunned. ¡°Wow, I just appeared in a haze of blood in a dungeon, and then got teleported to an empty field and almost killed by a bunch of angry squirrels.¡±


    Leornal laughed, ¡°Well, I suppose that staff didn¡¯t come without any cost then. But I suppose there was more to your question about video games and the Trials earlier. I have a theory that every species gets to the point where they assume everything would just be easier if a person can see the details of what¡¯s going on inside of them.¡±


    ¡°If you can¡¯t measure it, you can¡¯t manage it.¡±


    ¡°Right. So among whatever the Trials actually do, they help you see your growth, motivating you to try and change and improve.¡±


    ¡°How kind of them. So is the constant threat of death their way of helping as well?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s just what The Trials think is fun?¡±

 ~ Thirty-Four - Wound Branches (Five)

    ¡°You found another underground city below the hill?¡± Torysen balked as Mason and Leornal attempted to explain what they had been through the past several days.


    It had taken some time to catch up to the band, but thankfully they had made it while the group was still some ways out from New Marra. As Torysen had reminded him by way of greeting, if he showed up to the city by himself the guards would probably sniff out the soul magic he used and kill him on site. For some reason, Mason didn¡¯t think she was telling him that to comfort him.


    ¡°Yes, Captain,¡± Leornal affirmed with a roll of his eyes. ¡°And it appears the population was under a great threat and used soul magic as a last effort to save themselves. The gremlins you fought must be what remains of the weakest of them.¡±


    ¡°And this Artorial?¡± Torysen asked.


    ¡°Artorias,¡± Leornal corrected.


    ¡°Artorias, yes. You do not believe he is a threat, though you also claim that you haven¡¯t seen anything like his power before.¡±


    Leornal shook his head, ¡°No, if he were a threat, we would not have survived. That¡¯s not to say he¡¯s a friend, but he has no plans to assault us outright. I already explained what he did for De¡­ I mean Mason.¡±


    Torysen shot Mason a scathing look at that, ¡°More soul magic, it seems.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not as if I chose soul magic as a specialty, you know,¡± Mason countered. ¡°I¡¯m just not dumb enough to pass up a legendary artifact when it falls into my hands.¡±


    ¡°You are, however, dumb enough to use that artifact despite having almost zero idea how it works, where it¡¯s from, what it¡¯s capable of, or what the side-effects might be,¡± Tory continued to glower, reminding Mason that though she was training him, her bitter feelings weren¡¯t completely set aside.


    ¡°You know you¡¯ve got one minute left to live, and you have a potion in your hand that just might help you, even though you don¡¯t really know what it does. Do you avoid drinking the potion just because it might cause problems later?¡± Mason retorted. ¡°I¡¯d rather at least have a later to worry about.¡±


    Shayjol pushed his way into the large tent where they were discussing and looked between the three tense conversationalists, ¡°I take it you¡¯re still angering everyone you meet, Demon?¡±


    ¡°I can count at least a few people that don¡¯t hate me in the Trials, Shay. Do you have anyone other than your parents that you can add to your own list?¡± Mason studied the Darkest Night boy, having only glanced at him briefly in passing when he and Leornal had entered the camp.


    Shay ignored Mason¡¯s taunt and turned to Torysen, ¡°Sentir needs to know if there is trouble he should be watching for. He and my mom have both sensed something out of the ordinary, but nothing definite, yet.¡±


    Shayjol looked haggard in a way that Mason didn¡¯t expect. It was in his voice too. Even as he teased Mason, his throat seemed raw and his voice seemed deeper. The escape hadn¡¯t been very easy on him, either, it seemed.


    ¡°No,¡± Tory replied, ¡°If Leornal¡¯s story is true there shouldn¡¯t be any mana users below us, unless you count the Biord. If they¡¯re sensing something amiss it¡¯s most likely the goblins or the Corrosi. Either way, nothing we don¡¯t know how to handle.¡±


    Shay nodded, then turned back to Mason, ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alive, after all. I would have come back for you like you did for me but¡­¡±


    Mason smiled, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯m glad you made it out too.¡±


    Leornal watched the expressions flicker on Tory¡¯s face with each passing exchange. She had seemed approving when Shay had been mocking the human, but now that he was being kind she looked irritated. There was no way they could present Mason in front of the council with Torysen acting like this.


    ¡°Torysen,¡± he started, before Shayjol had even left the tent. Her attention jolted to him, and he continued when she nodded, ¡°You need to put your feelings aside. I would not have survived in that city without Mason. He¡¯s a good warrior and a good person.¡±


    Even Mason felt uncomfortable in front of such directness, but Tory looked outraged, ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have been trapped there at all if he hadn¡¯t lagged behind during the escape!¡±


    ¡°And Shayjol escaped all by himself, then? Mason carries the soul of a Darkest Night, and he¡¯s now saved several of our lives by working with us. I¡¯m not sure how much more of one of us he could become before he¡¯s earned our approval.¡±


    ¡°Do you not think I know he has one of our souls in him?¡± Tory yelled as Mason considered whether he should really be present for this conversation.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡± Mason started, but Leornal put his hand out to signal for him to stop talking.


    ¡°I won¡¯t even pretend to understand half of what Mason has done, or what Artorias helped him with. But it¡¯s clear that these are some fairly unusual circumstances. Your brother is whole in Mason. He has a rune which Mowry taught me himself once. If Mowrytal thought it was worth giving him that power, then it is worth our treating him like a friend,¡± Leornal insisted calmly in the face of Torysen¡¯s anger.


    ¡°Show it to me,¡± She demanded, turning to Mason.


    ¡°Um, I can try,¡± was all Mason could give her.


    And he did, sending a thought to Mowrytal to help him. He didn¡¯t think Torysen wanted to see him use Indiscriminate Force. She wanted to see the rune.


    Hoping that her mana-sight would allow her to see it as he formed it, he did so, and tried to press it forward into the air ahead of him. He saw in his status that Mana Manipulation had ticked up a level, and felt like Runecraft was activating at the same time. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    It was exhausting trying to go through the motion of that rune, and he wondered if he simply lacked any natural talent for this. But after he had finished pulling his mana through that shape for some time, Tory finally spoke up.


    ¡°Enough,¡± she said roughly, and then turned away from him and back to Leornal. ¡°Ask Clearsay to help turn that into an embellishment for him. The council will want to see him show up as one of us, and he can¡¯t come to them blank.¡±


    Whatever that meant, it seemed good enough to Leornal. Smiling, he nodded, and grabbed Mason¡¯s arm to drag him out of the tent.


    <hr>


    Shay and Mason both panted heavily as they resumed exchanging blows under the dim end-of-day light. Even unused to using a sword instead of an axe, Shayjol made for an impressively even match with the human child. They both practiced the same footwork, and each of their attacks was predictable enough that the other could almost always raise a counter in time.


    Of course, to themselves, they felt as if they were levelling an impressive offense and defending valiantly. Despite their confidence, Leornal yawned as he watched from the side, disappointed to see that Mason didn¡¯t fight with nearly the same resourcefulness as when his life was actually in danger.


    What he didn¡¯t realize was that Mason¡¯s attention was split in half. This sparring was more than an excuse to refine his blade mastery and footwork, he was also trying to learn to carve out that rune within him even in the midst of combat. He could move his mana smoothly while on the offensive, though he passed up many opportunities to shift his stance or break Shay¡¯s guard because of his distraction. However, every time Shayjol began pressing in, he lost focus on the rune as he tried to watch the dangerous weapon flying toward him.


    He was getting closer, and he knew he¡¯d be able to keep the fight up long enough to get at least one successful cast off. Indiscriminate Force had already levelled up without him casting it, so if he could get it off once more, he would inch his way into the realm of competency¡­


    Taking a deep breath, he poured stamina into Focus, trying to slow down time and speed up his movements, even while redoubling his attention on the rune. He felt the mana making the motions, the focusing of energy as the rune prepared to activate. If he could just get a moment¡¯s peace during the fight, he¡¯d have it.


    Then his opportunity presented itself. Shay disengaged, jumping back from their crossed blades. He looked ready to pounce, and though Mason could block the attack easily, if he went for a full lunging strike it would definitely throw him off balance. Putting aside any thoughts of turning the attack, Mason focused hard on the rune, feeling his mana drain even as Focus emptied his stamina.


    Shay pounced, and Mason roared in return, stepping into the attack, rather than away from it. The rune activated, and force burst from Mason in all directions. The trampled plants beneath their feet were blown up and around, and the trees shook all around them. But most importantly, Shayjol stalled in midair, losing his balance and falling backwards. Mason wanted to press the advantage, but the energy expenditure left him a little loopy, so all he did was laugh and pump his sword in the air.


    Leornal, mildly windblown, looked on interestedly now as Shayjol scrambled to his feet shouting. ¡°We were sword fighting, not casting spells! You cheated, Demon!¡± He seemed more embarrassed than righteously angry, though.


    Before moving too close to Mason, he thrust his unarmed hand forward, and a concentrated blast of force burst out, and the still-cheering human stumbled backwards. While he was off balance, Shayjol launched another force blast and this time Mason fell completely backwards, smacking his head painfully on the ground.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he swore as he sat up and rubbed his head, ¡°I just wanted to see if I could do it at all, Shay. It¡¯s not like I stabbed you!¡±


    ¡°Only a child uses magic on a friend without warning,¡± fumed Shay.


    ¡°Again with the name calling? Is that all you Darkest Night know how to do?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a great many thing we can do better than that, Mason,¡± Torysen said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere near where Leornal stood. ¡°Casting a spell in my camp without warning is a quick way to have my archers riddle you with holes. It¡¯s late, too. You should be resting- we¡¯ll be getting to the city early tomorrow.¡±


    Mason took her outstretched hand and rose to his feet. Wiping himself off he justified himself, ¡°I¡¯d rather not show up without even a simple rune under my belt. I know it¡¯d be dumb to stall, but I¡¯m not exactly eager to meet many more of your kind. None of you seem to really like me.¡±


    ¡°So you admit that you make everyone you meet angry, then?¡± Shay offered unhelpfully, unfazed by Tory¡¯s appearance.


    Mason shot him an irritated glance, but he just shrugged as Tory spoke up again, ¡°If you need a sparring partner, I¡¯d be more than happy to bruise you a few times. Leornal said you fought impressively against those beasts, but I wouldn¡¯t want you to start getting the idea that you were a capable fighter.¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Mason said sarcastically, drawing his weapon anyways. ¡°If you want to fight, I¡¯ll fight you.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°You know no matter how strong he grows, you cannot claim him,¡± said the loud-voiced god that had suggested bringing the humans into the Trials with a pile of guns.


    The first voice, who had schemed to get Mason the Staff of Mardun, look abashed by this proposal, ¡°I would never dare. If I were scheming to create an upstart contender, why would I start with something so weak and squishy? Mal, you offend me.¡±


    Mal leaned close to the smaller god, and his aura was overwhelming. He reeked of blood and sweat, and his almost grotesquely developed muscles seemed to put off a heat that was uncomfortable just to be near. Nobody achieved his status by being merely a brute though, so he was armed as much with natural suspicion as he was strength. ¡°Perhaps we should start referring to you as the god of the underdog. You don¡¯t think I forgot about that one a thousand years ago.¡±


    Underdog just flashed him a sheepish grin, ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes you do,¡± growled Maladuk, god of Thunder and Battlerage, ¡°The illusion-master from the shapeshifter race. Got a good hundred thousand of my favorite warriors killed. I still haven¡¯t been able to get a good werewolf mutation spreading since then!¡±


    ¡°That was a lucky pick. I followed the rules perfectly with that one. If Helzibeh hadn¡¯t been trying to conquer that entire tier of planes at once, he never could have led them into that foolish war.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s my fault, Coralis?¡± said a deceptively sweet voice from the beautiful Helzibeh. ¡°If you two hadn¡¯t caused so much trouble, I¡¯d have been raised to a higher echelon altogether after conquering those planes. Instead I¡¯ve been stuck with you two and these pathetic excuses for Contenders. There are hardly any Champions to claim, and nothing like one of those greater Champion races.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you sneak the Maledite away from Mal three hundred years back?¡± Coralis asked, trying to push the focus off his projects. ¡°I mean, you took the Mal from Mal, and they¡¯re such an aggressive race. They would have done great under his tutelage.¡±


    Mal glowered at Helzibeh briefly, but he growled at Coralis, ¡°You¡¯re a snake. And that human of yours isn¡¯t so entertaining. I don¡¯t know why we agreed to let you play with him. You know the Trials are against such direct interference.¡±


    ¡°Direct interference? Why, he¡¯s a non-contender on a non-contender plane. Since when was it against the rules for us to have some fun there? Those Maledite shouldn¡¯t have been slumming it anyways, especially not with a legendary staff at their disposal.¡±


    Helzibeh sighed dramatically, draping herself across a large, ornamental chair, ¡°You told me those bird-people had it. If I had known you were disrupting one of my contenders, I¡¯d never have allowed it.¡±


    ¡°The bird-people did have it. They just happened to be under Arlon¡¯s influence at the time.¡±


    Helzibeh and Maladuk both spoke at once with barely contained animosity, ¡°You¡¯re a snake.¡±

 ~ Thirty-Five - New Marra (One)

    Mason trudged miserably through the pouring rain, taking full stock of all the reasons he was unhappy to be awake.


    First off, he hated that it was thunder itself that woke him up, and that despite having woken up warm and dry in a tent, he was then ordered to leave that tent to march through the rain. Second, he hated the way the mud squished beneath his boots, and how much of it had somehow inexplicably found its way inside of his boots. Third, he hated that this happened to be one of the coldest days he¡¯d experienced in The Trials, while he was soaking wet.


    And finally he hated that every bit of his body ached from the difficult bouts of sparring he had undergone the previous night.


    All in all, he felt like he looked more like a prisoner than an ambassador, and it seemed like an awful way to greet the council of New Marra.


    It wasn¡¯t all bad though. As it became obvious they were nearing the city, Torysen herself had come up to him to adjust his cloak. Clearsay was at her side, and together they made sure that the embellishment was obvious and that the cloak was adjusted to obscure his face. There was nothing they could do about his height, but at the very least it would be hard to confirm that he wasn¡¯t a member of the Darkest Night.


    They passed guardposts and sentry towers, and everyone hailed Torysen as an old friend, making idle chatter with several members of the band as they passed by, though the rain had made each person gloomy.


    Mason kept his head low, and wished he had spent some time mastering his glamour. It was at a decent skill level at ten, comparative to the rest of his skills, but he had a suspicion that the skill levels he was seeing were pathetic compared to the rest of his companions. There was no way his mana manipulation, for instance, at seventeen was anywhere close to the skill of a Darkest Night who constantly moved mana around them in order to see.


    He dug into his stat screen, quickly dismissing the notifications from his earlier training: two levels to Blade Specialization and Footwork, and one to Indiscriminate Force, and tried casting Analyze.


    Nothing happened at first, but he maintained the skill while watching his stamina burn. Out of curiosity, he even pushed a bit of mana into it as well. He felt a sense of wonder looking at his skills- a concept he would have found laughable before. It seemed like there were mysteries loaded into that screen.


    Why did certain things boost his skill levels by tens at a time?


    What did each skill level truly represent?


    Why did those levels transform when skills like mana blade changed to mana-blade?


    Skill level analysis initialized. Please raise your Analyze skill to uncover more relevant information.


    He grinned despite the apparently unhelpful notification. Those status messages were directly linked to Analyze in some way. And more importantly, all he had to do to figure out more about his skills was gather more information. That was something he could gladly put his mind to.


    With the perfect first target in mind, he brought forth a mental image of his rune and poured mana and stamina into Analyze. Moments later, he felt as if locks were clicking into place in his mind.


    Raw Force Rune: A rune capable of transforming mana into a more efficient projection of physical force. This rune can be used in an unknown number of spells through runic modifications.


    Raw Runes are the basic building blocks of some veins of spellwork. Though they are more difficult to use than Spell Runes, they the user to master a variety of magic to a much greater extent.


    Mason was just about to try casting analyze on the rune again to see if he could make any headway on those modifications when he swayed, then stumbled and tripped over something and landed right in the mud. ¡°Aw fuck,¡± he moaned quietly as he pushed himself up and looked around.


    Leornal looked at him patiently and shook his head. Judging by the additional smear of mud on his leg, Mason had tripped over the archer¡¯s foot while lost in his status screens. ¡°It¡¯s customary to watch where you¡¯re going while travelling. I know you¡¯re not a scout, but you can¡¯t be excused from paying attention because you¡¯re inept.¡±


    Knowing better than to take Leornal¡¯s insults seriously, Mason mumbled out something that was between thanks and an apology, which seemed really like a lot of nothing. He was going to keep walking when Leornal put his hand on Mason¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°You might want to put your hood back up.¡±


    Mason obliged, then looked around and realized he could see the city¡¯s walls from there even through the rain and haze. He shivered, and wasn¡¯t able to identify whether or not it was from the chill of the rain or anxiety about meeting more of the Darkest Night.


    They started again, and Mason hazarded one last check at his status. He had one new level in Runecraft, two in Analyze, and even saw an improvement to his Creativity stat.


    He really wished he had some skill like Stalwart Heart or Bravery, because he was terrified.


    <hr>


    The band marched up in formation to the edges of New Marra, and Mason did his best to keep his head down as they got closer to the guards. He snuck glances alternating between his normal sight and his mana sight, and shivered as he realized that the guards around the city were all as loaded up with mana as the Roving Band. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    For a race that was supposedly starving for mana, they sure had a surplus.


    The walls of the city were surprisingly high and inelegant. A layer of wood from trees which had been obviously culled from the surrounding region formed its basic structure, but the Darkest Night were not without a unique skillset. The walls seemed to be reinforced by a black, almost tar-like substance which glistened even as the rain beat against it. There were embellishments which Mason imagined might actually be a form of magical enchantment carved invisibly down its length, which gave the pock-marked and uneven surface a very alien feel.


    He wondered whether or not the spellcaster that had spread that black substance was really adept at the spell; it looked very unevenly applied, as if the tar had dripped upwards along the wooden wall.


    Mason turned his attention back to the guards just in time to see one of them shake Torysen¡¯s hand and launch a rune that he didn¡¯t recognize into the air. Several corresponding runes shot into the sky from the town, magically visible through the rain, and Torysen motioned for the band to begin moving into the town.


    Shayjol and his family had long since been warned to stay far from Mason- it wasn¡¯t worth incriminating them if something went wrong. But Leornal proved his loyalty by volunteering to guide Mason into the city according to the plan they had worked out. With his hand on Mason¡¯s arm, he guided the human boy slowly away from the group and between several houses made of a variety of unnatural stones and wood.


    With his head very far down now, Mason only had a vague idea of what anything looked like around him, or where he was being led, but he hadn¡¯t come this far to get uppity now.


    Several minutes later, he had begun to understand that this city was much larger than he expected. What did that mean for the humans, then? Would they be coming in the tens of thousands? Even if he trained constantly until then, what chance did he have of getting the strength to protect that many against any real threat?


    Problems for later, he reminded himself as Leornal pulled him to a stop. ¡°Stand back,¡± he whispered and then knocked confidently on a door.


    The building they stood in front of was two stories and wide, much larger than most of the homes they had passed so far. The door, too, though it was made of a substance similar to that of the walls, seemed to be polished and perfected, with embellishments more elaborate than Mason had seen on anyone¡¯s outfits, certainly.


    ¡°What, who is here in this weather?¡± asked a tired, feminine voice. Despite the time of day, she looked as if she had just rolled out of bed.


    The woman tried to get a look at the cloaked Mason, but Leornal moved forward and got her attention, ¡°Well aren¡¯t you going to let us in?¡±


    She eyed him warily, then, recognizing who it was, she made an exasperated noise and stepped out of the doorway. Leornal half-dragged Mason in behind him as the door was shut.


    ¡°Leornal, what are you doing here? I just saw the rune that Torysen¡¯s band had arrived. Shouldn¡¯t you be with her making your report? Nothing is wrong with Faynel, right?¡± she tried to get another look at Mason as she turned from the door, but Leornal seemed to be between them no matter how she moved.


    ¡°Torysen is cashing in a favor. Or rather, all of them,¡± Leornal explained quietly, not taking his eyes off the woman or giving her any opportunity to see past him.


    ¡°You can¡¯t simply come in here, barge into my home and then demand favors, Leornal. You do remember I¡¯m on the council, correct?¡± She kept one hand on the door as if hoping for an opportunity to throw him out, but her body stretched and curved under her gown as she stared him down. Mason couldn¡¯t quite figure out what signals she was sending.


    She was an attractive enough woman, but even unfamiliar with their race, Mason could tell she was nearing on elderly, though she would have some time before anyone would insult her by pointing it out. There was a lined weariness to her face, as if time and stress had sucked the roundness out youth out of her, and her hair was the silver of mercury.


    ¡°I thought you would want to be the first to meet our new ambassador. We found a source of mana, but the situation is complicated,¡± his eyes locked on hers on that word, and Mason noticed her almost move to touch him. ¡°It¡¯s very likely the council will not be immediately friendly to any of our potential new allies, but there are debts owed here and dangers that can be avoided. I need a place to secure this man before we can arrange a full meeting with the council.¡±


    ¡°Ambassador? Secure? Friend? Leornal, since when do you have friends? You¡¯re more crotchety than my ex husband,¡± the woman teased, though her expression was terse.


    ¡°Then you understand the importance of the favor I¡¯m asking.¡±


    The woman threw up her arms dramatically and stalked away- but Leornal continued to move between her and Mason, seemingly amused by her predictable tricks. ¡°I can¡¯t just protect this mystery person without the council¡¯s approval. If I do so, I¡¯ll be forced to defend him in front of¡­¡± She stopped in her tracks, and turned straight on Leornal. Mason backed up, intimidated by the change in demeanor. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what Torysen is counting on. If she has me protect him now, she can have me stand for him before the council.¡±


    Leornal smiled, ¡°We would never presume upon your graciousness like that.¡±


    ¡°You would ask me for my last mana crystal if you thought it would serve your ends,¡± she shot back.


    ¡°So you¡¯ll help him?¡± Leornal asked again, calmly.


    ¡°Can I see him?¡±


    Leornal nodded lightly, and Mason stepped forward and pulled down his hood. Most noticeably, he felt a change in the mana in the air, and he imagined Leornal had taken down some sort of vision barrier.


    ¡°Damn you, you¡¯re playing with fire here. Don¡¯t think I can¡¯t sense the soul arts all over him. You¡¯d bring a demon into the city and call it friend? I should have your whole band hung!¡± she was yelling now, and gesturing wildly, but between Leornal¡¯s calm and the mismatched look on her face, Mason felt like this were a test more than anything.


    ¡°My name is Mason Nevels, and I am a human. I represent both my own race and that of the Biord, who currently guard a city rich in mana, of which I¡¯ve been told the Marrans are in desperate need?¡± Mason tried to keep his smile polite, but he felt ridiculous acting this formal, and giddy because he thought he pulled it off nicely.


    She didn¡¯t address him though, but instead turned to Leornal, ¡°My debt to Torysen is not only wiped clean, but she owes me, especially if this goes wrong. And you owe me personally. There¡¯s a house on the north edge of town that you¡¯ll recognize by the burn marks. A family was killed by some goblins that snuck over our walls a few days ago. The house should still be a mess, but the bodies have been taken care of. Guard him there, and do not leave under any circumstances. And do not speak to me until we get him before the council.¡±


    Leornal nodded seriously, and Mason flipped his hood back up, feeling dismissed. As the two turned to leave the woman added, ¡°I am Councilwoman Leenel, by the way. I do hope things work out for you, honestly. You¡¯re just going to make a lot of people very angry.¡±

 ~ Thirty-Six - New Marra (Two)

    ¡°That was the closest thing we have to an ally?¡± Mason asked incredulously as Leornal looked back and forth down a row of houses on the outskirts of town.


    ¡°It¡¯s your face, my young friend. You¡¯re very ugly. I find looking at you even makes me angry sometimes, and I have to remember that you must suffer enough when you remember what you look like.¡±


    The rain seemed to make it hard for the Darkest Night to see, even as it did Mason. Leornal cast extra mana about with several thrusts of his hands, but finally he found what he was looking for and marched Mason through the mud and up to a door.


    Unceremoniously, they barged through the entrance and Leornal immediately turned and barred the door with a chair before looking around. Satisfied, he spotted a fireplace, and pulled some wood into it and then cast a spell which ignited it. Mason envied that rune, but was scared to even attempt to learn another at this point.


    ¡°It¡¯s my soul, isn¡¯t it? Can you guys do that?¡± Mason asked vaguely, ¡°Can you see souls?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± Leornal laughed. Then he pondered it for a second and went, ¡°Well, not quite. Your soul affects your mana, and since soul arts change your soul, they leave a distinct impression on your mana aura. Especially yours. Not everyone can see these details, but to someone with a well-trained mana sight, it¡¯s extremely clear that you have a very diseased soul. And that¡¯s saying nothing of the very terrifying look of the mana in your staff.¡±


    ¡°Why are you just explaining this now?¡± Mason moaned, plopping down on the wooden chair against the door.


    ¡°You should be grateful that it¡¯s easy to forget how much of an idiot you actually are.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell if you Marrans are all just complete assholes, or completely xenophobic.¡±


    Leornal laughed again, and began taking off his soaking clothes and hanging them on an iron bar above the fireplace. ¡°Well I¡¯d like to think we have a great deal of both among our ranks. Torysen can be very lovely to people who haven¡¯t consumed her dead brother¡¯s soul. Leenel too, she¡¯s exceptionally¡­¡± Leornal grinned, ¡°kind.¡±


    Mason had a hard time wrapping his mind around the thought that a crotchety old archer like Leornal could have a romantic interest, so instead he also began stripping off his wet clothes and was grateful when Leornal passed him a large garment that was somewhere between a onesie and a robe. It was fluffy, whatever it was, and though he felt like he looked ridiculous, he imagined that viewing the world in purely mana-sight would give him a different sense of aesthetics.


    He considered the fact that Leornal was just messing with him by giving him an unusual outfit, but he dismissed the thought as irrelevant.


    That mana sight would present a different perspective on the world seemed true enough. When he thought back to what he had seen of the city, and of this small house he was in. There was blood dried on the floor and some of the furniture, and a table was upturned and broken, but even still it wasn¡¯t hard to get an idea of what it would look like in its best shape.


    It was a fairly normal home, albeit small. Most objects in it were fairly utilitarian and looked crudely hand-carved. There was a tapestry hung on one wall with only a little blood on it, and it looked like simple woven plant fibers until Mason switched on mana sight to see the decorative embellishments it carried. Rather than a rune, this one seemed to be more of a patterned design. He could make out that the mana was ordered differently in places, but from hearing the embellishments described, he knew he was missing a great deal of the depth of the image, as well as the distinguishing color. It was a bit like having poor eyesight and color blindness, and trying to appreciate a painting at a distance.


    Resolving to use mana sight as often as possible, Mason continued to look around, averting his eyes whenever his glance came over Leornal. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t want to see Leornal changing- the archer was already dressed and warming by the fire- he just couldn¡¯t look at Leornal without going half blind. A quick glance at his own skin proved that his mana was far dimmer.


    Without announcing his intent, Leornal passed from the main room into a second one, and Mason peeked in to see him sitting upright on a bed as if he were meditating. As unwound as he felt, Mason was far too hesitant to be that alone with his thoughts, so he instead turned his attention to tidying up the house.


    The family must have been eating when they were attacked, because there was food on the floor, but thankfully Mason was able to find a crude broom to sweep it up with. He dumped it into a bin that might have been a washbasin and then began breaking down the remains of the table.


    Once those remains were piled up neatly in the basin as well, Mason continued to dig through the place. There were more garments in the wardrobe- underwear, thin leather jerkins, cloth shirts and pants, and other predictable staples. But Mason was most excited to find that the kitchen was still full of food. He nibbled at a bunch of vegetables, and when he found that most of them were pretty edible, he ended up finding a jar of oil and frying himself a small stir-fry over the fireplace.


    It lacked flavor, but he could always learn from Clearsay how to make more interesting dishes later.


    Eventually, Mason ran out of activities to occupy himself in that small building, and Leornal still hadn¡¯t come out of the room. He sat on a padded bench in one corner of the room and decided to try tracing out his rune again. Warm as he was from the comfortable garment he was wearing and the fire, and tired from walking in the rain, so it didn¡¯t take long for his mental resistance to wear down.


    <hr>


    ¡°It was a good idea for them to involve Leenel now,¡± Mowrytal said in his stoic and imposing voice. ¡°She¡¯s a strong fighter. Possibly the only council member who truly understands the threats of The Trials. When we first arrived, she and I would spar for rounds, deep into the night.¡±


    Mason smashed his face into his palm, despite being nothing but the representation of his identity within his own soul, ¡°Not you too?¡±


    Mowry smiled slowly, a look Mason hadn¡¯t seen from him before. ¡°If I had to claim one reason I don¡¯t hate you for bringing my soul into this place, it would be that I did not live a life of many regrets.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Well good on you for your sexual exploits, but what am I supposed to do at this council meeting? Clearly everyone is going to hate me on sight for breaking some cardinal rule of your entire culture. Do I even stand a chance?¡±


    The silence dragged out until it was uncomfortable before Mowrytal spoke back up, ¡°I had a controversial relationship with the law myself when I was alive.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you a cop?¡± Mason asked skeptically, wondering if he had seriously misunderstood that memory he had seen.


    ¡°A few suggested that my actions were more aligned with those of a vigilante, and I had a reputation for digging into things that were meant to be overlooked.¡± There wasn¡¯t a trace of guilt or shame on his expression.


    Geralt appeared as if stepping through a doorway of light. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but overhear that you were completely screwed once again, Boy.¡±


    Mason took a deep breath and closed his eyes before they could roll. He would have to be more selective about the next soul he absorbed. Possibly someone with a good resume, known to do charity, always spoke kindly, had the ability to level mountains with a word. Or someone who didn¡¯t seem out to sabotage him or themselves at every turn, at least.


    ¡°Relax. You¡¯re awfully worked up to be talking to a bunch of bureaucrats. Just tell them that if they threaten you, the full force of the Biord and the humans will rain down upon them, and they¡¯ll be besieged from the north and the south and starved of their mana until they¡¯re nothing but shrivelled corpses. It won¡¯t win you any friends, but fear is a much more powerful motivator when you¡¯re trying to get your way, anyhow,¡± Geralt droned, somehow already reclining on a summoned couch.


    ¡°Though he is a bit more ruthless than I am, his idea isn¡¯t entirely off base,¡± Mowry followed up. ¡°You have bargaining power, and they don¡¯t have to like you. They simply need to realize that they must work with you. Just try not to let them realize that you¡¯re basically inept at spellcraft and only a barely passable fighter.¡±


    ¡°You two are no help at all.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe we are even entertaining this discussion! The laws are clear. Any Marran caught studying or performing any of the soul arts shall be summarily executed. We can befriend these Beird ourselves, and we shall deal with the rest of the humans as necessary once we¡¯ve established a stronghold in the Biarad city! There¡¯s no need to deal with a Demon!¡± the heavyset, dark-skinned man spat as he talked, and breathed heavily as he moved.


    ¡°Councilman Manlen, need I remind you that Captain Torysen¡¯s report specifically indicates that this human, Mason Nevels, is the only representative the Biord would allow to address us?¡± Councilwoman Leenel argued, having been briefed thoroughly by the Roving Band and Shaywise beforehand. ¡°If all they ask in return for opening their city and its resources to us is that we help them defend it and attempt an alliance with Ambassador Mason and his people, this is an offer we must seriously consider!¡±


    ¡°If they allow themselves to be represented by a demon, then I think we owe it to the sanctity of New Marra to wipe them out as well. Torysen¡¯s report also indicated that they were weak both strategically and in combat. And if these humans,¡± Manlen spat the word, ¡°all have this propensity to the dark arts, I do not see why we would ever broker an arrangement with them.¡±


    Leenel got up from her seat and walked off of the high-ledge where the five council members sat, walking confidently to Mason and offering him her hand. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet before she turned back to Manlen. Torysen, Leornal, and Shaywise all stood behind Mason as well- a choreographed move Leenel had insisted they be prepared to use.


    ¡°I have here three witnesses who will attest to his character. One is the sister of a victim of his soul arts, our very respected Torysen. Another is her most gifted archer, whose life was saved multiple times by Mason.


    ¡°And finally there is Shaywise, who was a respected healer even before The Trials, and who claims that even when her family accidentally attacked him and left him in agony for an entire day and night, he acted dignified and gracefully. He even put his own life at stake to protect her son from a serious threat!¡±


    Leenel turned to the three of them, ¡°Are you all three willing to attest to the veracity of these accounts before the council?¡±


    ¡°We attest,¡± they said in unison.


    From where he stood, Mason never noticed the many glances to a grizzled old woman far back in the chamber. She was burdened by heavy furs and the weight of her years. But now, as many times before throughout the whole trial, she received many glances. To some, she would mutter and shake her head, and others, a faint smile would curl her lips, and she¡¯d nod.


    Manlen growled as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, ¡°How do we know that this isn¡¯t all his plan? A demon could hide his true powers from us in hopes of claiming all our lives to power his schemes.¡±


    Before Leenel could speak, he turned to Mason who had sat quietly this whole time, but felt his irritation bubbling the whole time. Even with his friends willing to speak up for him, this man who likely couldn¡¯t stand to bear his own weight, let alone stand against Mason in a fight, was going to try to cast judgment on Mason for just trying to survive?


    ¡°Tell us, human, and say it clearly before the council and our people. Do you regret your actions? Soul magic is forbidden among our people. It corrupts the user and destroys the sanctity of life. Yet you walk into our city without a second thought, reeking of one of our own people¡¯s souls, and others beyond that.¡±


    Demon¡¯s eyes glinted, and he looked confidently right in the eye of councilman Manlen. He was an old grizzled thing, someone who had clearly been important before the Trials, and now clung to that role as his only security. His skin hung loosely on his face and his arms, and the deep set wrinkles spoke of many years of frowning, much like he was now.


    ¡°No,¡± he stated, letting the word hang in the air. Murmurs rose, and the sagging frown turned into a grimace. Right as the man began to shift to speak, Demon continued. ¡°All power comes with a price, and in a civilized world, that price is often too high.


    ¡°Would we risk the stability of peace by allowing people to develop tremendous strength, enough that they can threaten the status quo? Of course not, a government would topple if it allowed its people to grow that strong.


    ¡°But look around! This is not a peaceful world. Your people struggle to survive both from fear of the Corrosi and stray monsters, as well as plain and simple mana starvation. Growing strong is not a choice here, it is essential. Fear or hate me if you must, but I want to grow strong because I want to help. I want to see your people, my people, and even the Biord continue to survive in these Trials.¡±


    The murmuring only intensified as people discussed these almost heretical statements.


    Another council member leaned forward, ¡°What you say goes against everything our council has tried to maintain. Would you have us turn to deviants and murderers just so that a few would survive?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Demon replied, louder this time than his first denial. ¡°I would have you make concessions for the necessities of a very different life. Get rid of your laws which do nothing to strengthen you, and remind your people that there are very real dangers outside of your city walls. Petty crime, fighting over pride or romance or greed- those are all suicidal ideas.


    ¡°I took Mowrytal¡¯s soul off of his corpse, because it was the only source of power I had when I was starving and alone and scared. Now he sits inside of me, strengthening me, teaching me, and helping me learn what it means to fight in the Trials. The other soul, a Maledite named Geralt, was a terrible man. He murdered without a second thought, but now his power serves me, and I have used it to fight alongside one of your very own Roving Bands.


    ¡°Are you going to tell me I¡¯m a criminal?¡± Mason asked, suddenly smaller with a fearful kindness in his face, looking around slowly at the audience, as well as the council. ¡°Are you going to prevent me from helping you, when hundreds if not thousands of my people are going to appear in this land, every bit as scared and desperate as I was?¡±

 ~ Thirty-Seven - New Marra (Three)

    All of the onlookers began talking loudly about this unexpected tirade. There was a lot of truth to what he was saying; The Trials had changed the rules of the world. Hardly anyone in the room had made it this far without watching someone die, and even those who had lived mundane lives before this had learned the art of defending themselves and killing when it was the only way to defend themselves.


    But the soul arts were profane. Most didn¡¯t know the history of when or why they had become so wholly unacceptable, but they knew nonetheless that they were the purview of the evil and the corrupted. But this pale, small, mana-less thing that stood before them had the respect of several very recognizable figures, and beyond that, Torysen, who should be the very person drawing charges against him, who would have been forgiven even if she had slain him in cold blood in the field, was instead standing here defending him.


    ¡°Its settled,¡± boomed Manlen as he leaned forward in his high seat. He had glanced at the old woman and was certain she had nodded at him. ¡°You admit to using soul arts and show no remorse at that. You¡¯ll be executed this evening!¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said the council member next to him, ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s settled at all.¡±


    The look of relief on the faces of each of Mason¡¯s allies was nearly comical.


    Another council-member spoke up, ¡°We were not here today to start a war. We were here to assess the right thing to do involving this city that Torysen¡¯s band found, and then to determine the right course of action in handling young Mason Nevels.¡±


    The final member seemed to rouse, this one almost old enough that Mason wondered if she might turn to dust, ¡°It is not in our laws to execute the ambassadors of people seeking peace. If he were a Marran, I would volunteer to deal out his punishment myself. But he is not.¡±


    ¡°Neither does he show any sign of bad intent or corruption,¡± Leenel chimed in, pressing her advantage. ¡°I would motion that we keep him under surveillance, with his permission, but allow him to move freely through the city with an escort. Of course, there is a great deal of discussion to be had about our agreement with his people and the Biord, but that can be reserved for a more private meeting.¡±


    There were mutters of agreement from the other council-members, and the citizens in the audience began to chatter away as if they hadn¡¯t really had any stock in the matter either way.


    ¡°What terms can he even offer us? You speak of sparing him as an ambassador of peace, but I hear these Biord are hardly able to defend themselves. They bowed once to a strong leader, why shouldn¡¯t they bow before us?¡± Manlen huffed, apparently agitated from the turn of events.


    Mason didn¡¯t wait to be asked to speak, ¡°The walls of their city are lined with mana. Several of your people have confirmed what the Biord told us before- beyond their sealed royal halls is practically a mana mine. They are threatened and in danger by enemies unknown, but once those threats are removed your people would have access to all the mana that could possibly sustain you.


    ¡°But are you hoping to march into this city and fight an unknown enemy in territory you know nothing about? The Biord could guide you, support you, ease in the transition. Would you so callously suggest subjugating a potential ally? I thought the Corrosi were supposed to be the barbarians.¡± He glared directly at Manlen, almost hissing.


    ¡°Boy you reach too-¡±


    ¡°I would hesitate before speaking down to Mason again, Councilman,¡± Torysen interjected with a step forward, lining herself with the human.


    ¡°Captain Torysen, you have more to add?¡± Leenel asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been to the Biord cities, and I¡¯ve seen the hives we suspect are connected, as well as some of the monstrosities within. My archer Leornal fought alongside Mason deep within a second hidden city, as the reports clearly show, and we have great reason to believe we only know a fraction of the dangers lurking down there. The Corrosi and the goblins threaten us from the north and monstrosities threaten us from underground, from the very city we require aid from in order to survive. Is it worth taking the risk of making enemies of the Biord and humans when we could be forming alliances instead?¡±


    ¡°If Mason were a more vicious man,¡± Leornal spoke up too, ¡°what you¡¯ve dared to say in front of this council would already constitute enough for him to report back to the Biord that they should bar their doors and consider us enemies. I¡¯m no politician, but I think you should probably try thinking before you suggest going to war.¡±


    Manlen fumed, and cast back and forth between Mason¡¯s group and the other councilmembers. Each of his fellows, except Leenel, looked ready to shift their chairs away from him.


    ¡°Let me settle this matter publicly, if the council agrees. Mason will be offered the full rights and protections of an ambassador, and we will adjourn to discuss the more sensitive matters of our military and politics in private,¡± Leenel declared.


    When several councilmembers immediately agreed, the matter seemed settled. Leornal looked over at Mason and gave him a curt nod, and the human boy visibly relaxed. This seemed like a pretty reasonable outcome to the whole mess. He hadn¡¯t even been asked to give up his staff.


    <hr>


    Manlen was conspicuously absent from the private meeting, having stormed out muttering something about, ¡°I won¡¯t be stuck in the same room with that Demon.¡±


    Mason had long since given up on getting offended by things. Whether he was liked or not, he was alive, and there were people who were helping him for whatever their own reasons were. And for the moment, he was sitting among a pretty notable array of people and if he wasn¡¯t respected, he was at least seen as necessary.


    Four of the council members were there, as well as Torysen, two other Roving Band leaders, and three heads of the local defense. There was an old woman, too. The same that Mason had failed to notice during the trial, though he overlooked her now as well. She looked half-asleep, and that was being generous. Her skin looked worn and grey, and somehow the bones of her body seemed to be lost in the mess of sagging flesh and heavy furs that surrounded her.


    Though all these people were civil, the disputes were clearly running heated.


    ¡°We cannot afford to send our forces to secure some other city when we can¡¯t even be certain we can defend our own,¡± insisted the true head of the local defense, Coltren, for possibly the sixth time the conversation.


    ¡°And again, nobody is suggesting we do that, not immediately. We need to survey the city of the Biord for viability, probe the willingness of their people to comply to our demands, and ensure that we even have the ability to fight whatever it is that threatens them. For all we know, they¡¯ve fallen already,¡± Leenel responded, not for the first time herself.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°We¡¯re talking in circles, everyone. Can we please come to a basic agreement, and then deal with the details by casting votes,¡± asked the first council member to side with Mason, Hoatner. ¡°We can use young Mason here as the tie-breaking vote in Manlen¡¯s place, since the man is too busy sulking to help manage the city.¡±


    The eldest of the council members looked at the old woman in the room for a long time before nodding solemnly toward Mason, ¡°That would be a fair sign of our respect, as he did come here as an ambassador. You will have to be straightforward with us if you do not understand our values. And might I suggest you not share the details of this meeting around. The fact that a soul-arts user is in our midst is already more controversy than these old bones hoped to ever be wrapped up in again.¡±


    Mason nodded, ¡°I¡¯d be honored to help weigh in with as much knowledge as I can.¡± Assuming some humility was due after his show in the trial, he added, ¡°I am young, and new to the Trials, as well as your people, so please do not allow me to overstep my bounds.¡±


    Both Torysen and Leenel flashed him approving looks, and then Torysen spoke up, ¡°So then let us start with this. We must get a better understanding of the region surrounding the Biord, as well as scout where the humans are likely to appear. Only once that has been accomplished should we send the scouts to investigate the threats to the Biord, and how many of our people they could accommodate if we did send our people to join them.¡±


    There were several nods around the table, but the head of the local defense put a fist on the table, ¡°We¡¯re just going to sacrifice our local awareness on this longshot idea that we can just move in happily with some other species? They¡¯ll kill us in our sleep if we don¡¯t all die to the Corrosi and Goblins while we¡¯re distracted.¡±


    Predictably, his lackeys nodded along with him, and the rest of the civilized people in the room simply sighed before the elderly council-member spoke up again, ¡°What would you have us do?¡±


    Coltren looked pleased that the question had come up, ¡°I believe we should keep the Roving Bands in closer to town, and prepare to lay out an offensive against the Corrosi. We know there are mana springs, and possibly even more powerful resources to the far north. If we can rout them out and claim those for ourselves, we won¡¯t need to give up our city or split our population.¡±


    This time, the room seemed split.


    ¡°I think we¡¯ll stand a better chance if we let the Corrosi wear themselves down from in-fighting and failed raids on the city. If we can thin their numbers while we wait for and train up the humans, we¡¯ll actually have the manpower to launch a full resistance!¡± insisted Leenel.


    Torysen then turned to Mason before anyone could contest that, ¡°Mason, you know what your people are capable of better than any of us here. Do you honestly believe they will be able to provide us the assistance we require? That is ultimately what this hinges on.¡±


    Mason shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and tried to hear the voice of Mowry and Geralt within him. All he could perceive without focusing better on the link he had to them were vague feelings, but they seemed to be sending him confidence.


    He didn¡¯t feel so certain. ¡°Humanity has always been known for its adaptability and resilience, but we wrote those stories to tell each other. From what I can tell, I¡¯m not a horrendous fighter and I¡¯ve only been in this plane or exposed to mana for a few weeks. There is potential there, but they won¡¯t come ready to fight, and it may take some convincing to get them to join your battle anyways.¡±


    ¡°Be clear, boy. We need to make a decision,¡± urged one of Coltren¡¯s lackeys.


    ¡°If I had to vote, I¡¯d vote in favor of the best potential of my people. I think they could help, and I think New Marra would stand a better chance if it had mana-resources behind it. If you start a war and end up besieged, it doesn¡¯t seem like you¡¯ll last long,¡± Mason confessed guiltily.


    Torysen was nodding though, so he must not have done too horribly.


    ¡°How do you know he doesn¡¯t just want us to offer ourselves up to the humans whole so that they can all take our souls with their twisted magic?¡± Coltren asked with venom in his voice. It seemed more like he were trying to sow dissent than that he actually feared Mason at all.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough of that,¡± Leenel admonished. ¡°You could have spoken at the trial. As it is, we all agreed that it was to our benefit to wait until we had real reason to suspect Mason before we treated him like a criminal. We have seen stranger things in this world than a kindly soul-arts user.¡±


    ¡°Can we just put it to a vote?¡± cried Hoatner. ¡°All in favor of holing up in the city and hiding from everyone?¡± There was some uncomfortable shuffling, but nobody rose their hand. ¡°And all in favor of waging a full on war with the Corrosi right away?¡± Coltren and one of his lackeys rose their hands, as well as one of the Roving Band leaders that hadn¡¯t spoken yet.


    ¡°Good. And all in favor of scouting out the Biord and the Humans, and discussing our options further once we have a better understanding of what they are?¡± Hands went up all around the room, and Mason tried hard not to look smug.


    ¡°Even better. Now we have a starting point. I believe we should send¡­¡±


    The rest of the discussion went on for about an hour. They were going to send another of the Roving Bands to do the scouting since Torysen¡¯s group was already biased and unlikely to bring back the best possible information. One of Torysen¡¯s scouts, who Mason didn¡¯t know well, would go with them to make notes of the changing landscape, as well as to make introductions between the band and the Biord.


    Beyond that they began to discuss possibilities for how they would respond to different scenarios, answering questions like; Would they be willing to undergo an emergency evacuation of the full city toward the Biord if they were threatened? Would they rather run mana supply between their locations, or set up a more permanent occupation with the Biord? What sort of military might could they do without in New Marra in order to engage with the threats on the Biord?


    The questions went on and on, and Mason failed to follow most of the more nuanced tactics, especially since the flurry of names in the air meant almost nothing to him. He did gather that Torysen¡¯s group would be reassigned for the time being to scout out the north-west though, where Corrosi were present but not especially active.


    As the meeting was wrapping up, Mason decided to act on a thought he had been stewing on the whole meeting.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to make a formal request before Torysen and the full leadership of New Marra.¡±


    All eyes were on him, and he choked as his throat went dry.


    ¡°Well, as I¡¯m sure is fairly apparent from the reports and from what I can only imagine is fairly astute mana-sight, I¡¯m still a novice at combat, and have only learnt the basics of magic. I would like to be assigned to support Torysen¡¯s band as they rove to the north.¡±


    Nobody said anything at first, and then Mason noticed that the eyes in the room were shifting from him to Torysen. It was only then that he realized the position he had put her in. She had stuck her neck out for him despite the fact that she had a great many reasons to distrust him.


    But because she had done so publicly, and Mason had requested this assignment publicly as well, she almost had to accept the request or she would look like she was backing down on her earlier confidence in him.


    Steeling himself, Mason locked eyes with Torysen, trying to get across through a look how seriously he was taking this.


    Torysen drew her sword and moved its tip against Mason¡¯s throat while everyone watched. Mason wondered if Coltren was hoping she would follow through with the attack. After a moment had passed and Mason hadn¡¯t moved, Torysen asked, ¡°If I were to try and kill you right now, would you be able to guess my next action? Would you be able to defend against it and protect yourself?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he responded honestly, knowing her speed and power firsthand.


    ¡°If you join my band and cannot defend yourself, you make it someone else¡¯s obligation to do so. We do not let our own members die, and your weakness already put Leornal at risk. Would you put him at risk again?¡± Her gaze was level, and Mason knew she was making this point in front of everyone for reasons he couldn''t comprehend, but that meant a great deal to her.


    ¡°I will do everything in my power to keep myself from being a liability. I believe I have strengths that can be put to good use, and that with the guidance and experience from working with your team, I will become great.¡±


    ¡°Does the council agree with putting an ambassador to our people in the line of duty?¡± She asked the people around her.


    Several of them muttered agreements, and a few of them seemed almost eager for their own reasons.


    ¡°We have a great deal of training to get through, then. I¡¯ll send someone to prepare you soon.¡± Torysen said, without a hint of pleasure in her voice.

 ~ Thirty-Eight - New Marra (Four)

    It wasn¡¯t nervousness at all, Mason finally realized after pacing a hundredth time across the tiny, half-wrecked space that made up his temporary home. Neither was it just some general sense of discomfort from being in a city full of people he could hardly identify with- he honestly spared them few thoughts at all in his pacings.


    What kept him unable to sit down or rest was a general sense of disquiet at the fact that nothing loomed ahead. His first several days in the Trials he had been lucky if he fell asleep through anything other than forced unconsciousness brought on by Mana Sickness or a lack of stamina. And each time that had happened he had less slept and more recovered.


    He remembered the time he was with the Biord and knocked unconscious by the weight of stealing two souls in the span of a day, and when he was travelling with the band and passed out from trail weariness. He knew he had actually slept at some point, but he could hardly think of a time he had laid his head down and let his body relax itself into sleep.


    And even when he did have some say in the manner of his rest, it was always a brief bout of recovery so that he had strength to gather food in the morning, or plunge deeper into a dark cave. It hadn¡¯t been long, but this had quickly become his new norm. Mason had to accept this as a rule, as he had accepted so many impossible things.


    To survive, one had to put aside all preconceptions and respond to each choice with only the question of whether a particular option would make one stronger.


    But now there was no threat. He had been offered free room and board by the council of New Marra in return for his services rendered and his agreements to train under and join Torysen¡¯s Roving Band. Honestly though, he would have likely been granted anything he needed merely for his status as ambassador. There was no illusion that the threat of the humans appearing en masse held a great deal of sway for him.


    And tomorrow he had been specifically told to rest and familiarize himself with the city¡¯s services. Training had been withheld, and in a quiet way, likely forbidden. Leornal and Shaywise had suggested it separately, and their combined wisdom had made it law. Mason would be of no use to anyone if he wasn¡¯t able to begin processing what he had been through, as well as the many strange powers forming within him.


    But he wished for nothing more than an easy way to avoid having to really plunge through those complexities now that he had time to do so casually. It was fine to address his stats or talk to Geralt and Mowry when he was rushed and desperate, but to really begin to contemplate the ramifications of everything he had done¡­


    He wasn¡¯t certain his mind could handle it.


    Instinct had done much and more to get him this far, especially as he now suspected that the influence of his Demon persona had begun to sink in almost as soon as he began using the staff and the Mardun Mana.


    But instinct had also driven him to kill, and not just beasts. There were several Biord who were probably only his enemies because they too were trying to survive. He had helped Terk, Lany, Bazy, Shovelknight and¡­ whoever the other one was, sure, but he had killed those two guards in the next room not even because they were in his way, or threatening his friend, but simply because they were wearing a shoddy uniform and stood between him and the potions he thought he might need later.


    Hell, he hadn¡¯t even used those potions until way later than what he thought they¡¯d serve for.


    What made him most uncomfortable was that he really didn¡¯t care to know their names or their histories. He wasn¡¯t upset they were dead anymore than he was upset about the deaths of Mowrytal or the gremlins. He knew that by the rules he was raised by, he should feel terrible. Most likely if those lives had been what his trial with the council was about, he would have expressed guilt and remorse for the sake of those watching.


    But without an accuser, he felt little to nothing but a twittering restlessness.


    Perhaps, he considered, what he was really feeling was fear. His mind had accepted the cruel reality that this world was dangerous, and his instincts had wrapped themselves around that idea to accept that he would fight for his life no matter the cost. But now that he wasn¡¯t fighting for his life, it seemed uncertain whether those instincts had been truly correct at all.


    In his old world, he only had to really worry about whether or not it was right to report less of his tips to the IRS while he delivered pizza.


    Thinking about it that way, he began chuckling to himself. It wasn¡¯t that he was wholly unequipped to make moral judgments on himself- he had studied some philosophy after all. But he remembered a story of Aristotle- or maybe Socrates- who had been imprisoned and put on death row. All of his friends had a great plan to save him, but he turned them down. He insisted that if he were to do that- rebel against the state which he had always supported, put his friends at risk, save his own skin- he¡¯d be denying his values and it wouldn¡¯t be worth him escaping at all.


    Mason didn¡¯t think of himself as any great moral teacher, though: If it were him, he¡¯d have been out of there that night and working on a new value system.


    His mind continued to circle around itself like this as the night went on. He¡¯d pick up an idea, toy with it, and dismiss it as soon as it became uncomfortable or heavy. There was a lesson there, but he was not of the mind to learn it. Instead, he found himself almost hoping for a new threat. If there was danger, a problem to be solved or something to survive, he could pour all of his energy into it and then not worry at all about who he was becoming or what he was willing to do.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Mason sighed, finally sitting down on the rough excuse for a couch in the main room then falling backwards so that he was sprawled out staring at the ceiling. What it really came down to was a question of values.


    Was it worth it for him to become strong even if it wasn¡¯t essential?


    Leornal, after all, had access to magic his whole life, yet still struggled to learn combat spells now that they were relevant. Eventually there was a good chance that humanity could fortify itself to the point that it wouldn¡¯t be necessary to reach any great strength. He could participate in the general defense, maybe fighting off goblins and gremlins, but why should he push himself beyond that?


    Mason thought about the rune that was simmering in his chest, as well as the small white egg of his soul, surrounded by the pool of mana that grew deeper and wider with each passing day.


    If he did nothing at all, the few Focus Points he had left would still improve him over the next few months. If he did just a little, enough to complete some of his challenges, perhaps he could gain enough Focus Points from them to become much stronger than he ever could have training on Earth.


    But he wanted more. He wanted to see the look on Torysen¡¯s face when he could cross blades with her and put her on the defensive. He wanted to help push back the Corrosi, or meet Artorias without fearing immediate obliteration. Indiscriminate Force was an ability unlike he could have ever expected to have before, but it was just raw material that he could do almost anything with.


    And he wanted to do just that.


    So he sat up, crossing his legs and resting his hands in his lap, and he dug into the rune. The slopes and curves of it had become familiar, though he was far from memorizing them, and much further from understanding them. He let a small bead of mana form like a cursor, and pulled it along the rune¡¯s edges, watching to see the point at which it transformed.


    One full revelation later, it seemed to bubble and transform, as if the mana itself were becoming something else. It didn¡¯t disperse- there wasn¡¯t enough mana for the rune to activate, but the energizing effect of the rune was still enough to stimulate that strange substance.


    If he could change the slopes, widening them, or shrinking them, what effect would it have on that energy, and ultimately the spell?


    Mason resolved himself then to spending the night exploring the mysteries of the rune. He expended mana faster than he noticed, but it had obvious gains. He improved Runecraft by two levels, and Mana Manipulation, Mana Tolerance, and Indiscriminate Force by one each.


    But as the hour passed, so did the frenzy in his mind that came from indecision and uncertainty, and finally he slept.


    <hr>


    Geralt and Mowrytal sat at opposite sides of a round table that they had conjured in the place within Mason¡¯s soul. They had kept to themselves mostly since they had appeared here. Both of them had their own anger and resentment to nurse, and their motivations rarely lined up.


    But Mason¡¯s steady progress was promising, and with their fates inextricably linked to his, they both felt their moods buoyed by a cautious optimism that they could use him to their ends. This was what brought them together. Cooperation was the surest way they could hope to hold real sway over the boy.


    ¡°I still feel that he¡¯s too arrogant to work with. He recklessly rummaged through our memories, and then condescended to us when confronted. How dare he make demands of us when we are his most promising assets?¡± Geralt muttered, his hands steepled in front of him.


    Mowry saw right through his bluster, ¡°He¡¯s smart to recognize that he is ultimately in charge of this vessel. If he were to back down to us, he would end up losing his mind. No body can be ruled by three masters. But you are right, he has not yet realized our true value.¡±


    ¡°I should have destroyed him when I could. He gave us access to his full mana stores while we empowered that rune. I don¡¯t think he had even the slightest clue the power we had in that moment. His body is frail. Even this much mana would be enough to tear him to shreds.¡±


    ¡°Do you really think he¡¯s lacking any more surprises? If all humans are like him, then they are extremely unusual. This level and rate of adaptation are truly promising. You want your revenge, of course. But surely you can see there is better revenge to be had with his strength than by simply destroying him from within?¡± Mowry stood and turned from the table, pulling up an image of Geralt¡¯s old teacher.


    ¡°I do not want revenge on my teacher,¡± growled Geralt. ¡°He did not slay King Arlon.¡±


    ¡°Neither did Mason,¡± Mowry said quietly. ¡°The Trials put you through the hell of your childhood. They brought you to serve Arlon. They ultimately cost you his life and your own, too. Wouldn¡¯t you like to know what they are about?¡±


    Geralt laughed, rocking back in his chair, ¡°The Trials are not about anything, you fool! That is simply a story told by old men who lived too long in them. They are a sick game, at best, and a hell at worst. You grow strong in the Trials if that is what you want. And you die if you do not want it badly enough.¡±


    ¡°And I think Mason wants it badly enough,¡± Mowry said.


    ¡°Mason doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s doing even half of the time. He stumbles and he scrapes by. If he hadn¡¯t been given the staff by some cosmic joke, and he hadn¡¯t stumbled upon your body, he would have been food to some stray animal. Even with these assets, he doesn¡¯t understand any of what he¡¯s capable of. He just swings that stick of his and hopes it does something useful.¡±


    ¡°My sister Torysen can cure him of many of his bad habits. And with our assistance from within, we could shape him into a force greater than anything that I¡¯ve seen on this plane. You have to see it. Isn¡¯t potential the reason you followed King Arlon after all?¡±


    ¡°Our power is limited in here. And the boy hardly listens to us. He treats us like playthings.¡±


    ¡°We need to show him our use, and help him grow strong enough that we can grow strong again through him,¡± Mowry insisted.


    Rather than laugh or roar, Geralt was quiet for a moment as he leaned on the back two legs of his chair. ¡°He has a long way to go before he can benefit from our strength,¡± he said finally.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it will be as long as you believe.¡±

 ~ Thirty-Nine - New Marra (Five)

    Mason felt rested and energized the next morning like he couldn¡¯t remember feeling since he had first entered the Trials. The rune almost throbbed within him, full of his mana and pulsating as if to remind him that the force power was ready to be unleashed within it.


    He had woken up early, most likely too used to not sleeping to stay asleep for any reasonable length of time, and decided to use his energy and excess stamina to make some more sense of his situation. If he was going to dedicate himself to this route after all he might as well take it seriously.


    Digging into his system screen, Mason focused on trying to remember his challenges. He had a sneaking suspicion that there were a great many secrets buried in that part of his mind, and sure enough once he started focusing on his challenges, a whole screen came up.


    There were four challenges still sitting there, waiting to be accomplished. Spellcraft, Scourge of the Rotten Gremlins, Footwork Mastery, and Walker of the Tree of Memories. A deep breath triggered his Focus, and another activated Analyze. He needed to see what the Trials weren¡¯t revealing about these challenges.


    Spellcraft: Tier 1 Rewards Unlocked.


    Scourge of the Rotten Gremlins: Tier 2 Rewards Unlocked


    Distinguished Footwork: No Rewards Unlocked


    Walker of the Tree of Memories: Initial Rewards Collected, No Further Rewards Unlocked


    He smiled smugly- it was if the idea had just popped into his mind as he woke up, and that simple screen had revealed a lot to him about how the challenges worked. But he had more to learn. Focusing on Spellcraft, he triggered Analyze once more.


    Spellcraft: Tier 1 rewards can be claimed at any time, thus terminating the challenge. If you choose to continue the challenge, greater rewards can be collected as you advance, and when the challenge is ultimately completed.


    This was good, useful information. He was a little grumpy that nobody had thought to share it with him thus far, but he wasn¡¯t going to begrudge people for expecting him to help himself. He also wasn¡¯t done pushing Analyze.


    His attention centered on Spellcraft, but he dismissed the idea of the tiers and began to let his mind churn the concepts involved with the challenge itself. He saw the initial description flicker first.


    Mana opens the door to a great many things, but can you step through the doorway?


    But that wasn¡¯t what he was looking for either. He needed clarity, and he had a strong suspicion that he already knew what the challenge was for, so he¡¯d know when that mental system had given him a real answer. Pushing his stamina and a bit of mana into Analyze again, he reflected on the Spellcraft challenge.


    Spellcraft governs the use of Runecraft, higher levels of Mana Manipulation, higher levels of Mana Tolerance, and other paths to invoking spells. Rewards are granted based on the uniqueness of spells discovered and the user¡¯s degree of mastery.


    He was breathing hard from the depletion of his stamina. Surely this little bit of information shouldn¡¯t be so hard to come by? Was it that his Analyze skill was just low, or did the Trials really make it so hard to gain their assistance?


    Wiping sweat off his forehead, he saw his stamina dipping down quickly. It would only take twenty minutes to restore it from empty, and he knew from experience that he could actually push it past zero if he were willing to hurt for it, so he poured himself into Analyze once more, knowing at the edge of his consciousness lay more secrets about this challenge.


    Higher tiers of Spellcraft will unlock more skills associated with the challenge, and rewards include bonuses to Intelligence, Willpower, and Creativity, as well as Trial assisted improvements to the user¡¯s spells.


    He gasped as he let out a breath he hadn¡¯t known he was holding. It had been a strain to push his Analyze that far, and instinctively he understood that he had pulled information from the system that he wasn¡¯t supposed to access until he was much further along. But understanding what really lay down the road with these challenges would help him know what to focus on.


    He collapsed backwards on the couch, panting and spreading himself out so that the air could evaporate his sweat and cool him down. Someday he would be able to do things like this effortlessly. He would cast spells, win fights, pull information from the depths of his mind and the Trials, and he would be a force to be reckoned with.


    Maybe when he wasn¡¯t a lowly level four.


    Grinning, Mason noticed his analyze had risen two levels from that effort. If he could get that next endurance Focus Point to settle, he could do that every morning and probably push Analyze to the point that it didn¡¯t drain him dry just trying to figure out the basics of what was around him.


    A knock at his door drew his attention from where he had begun studying his rune, so Mason scrambled to his feet and went to see who was there. He never really had settled on a plan for the day, leaving most of the arrangements to Torysen and Leornal.


    Opening the door expecting to see one of their two faces, he panicked a little when he didn¡¯t immediately recognize the Darkest Night outside his door. ¡°Umm,¡± he started to say, before it clicked in his mind who was there. It was one of the scouts in Torysen¡¯s band that he hadn¡¯t really talked with at all.


    She looked at him expectantly, and it took Mason a moment to realize that was because his mouth was still hanging open in confusion. A little awkwardly he asked, ¡°Do you want to come in?¡±


    Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, and he sized her up in return. She was short for a Darkest Night, which meant she was very close to his own height, within an inch. Her hair was violet like her eyes, and she seemed young as well. Her face was narrow and smooth, and her controlled expression gave it a look of elegance.


    Her appearance probably had a factor to play in Mason¡¯s sudden onset stupidity. She was the closest to an attractive woman he had seen in the Trials save for Torysen, who he honestly pictured as something too terrifying to be attractive.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°You¡¯re not from a very polite world, are you?¡± she asked, her voice ringing with innocence that put Mason on guard.


    ¡°I was expecting to see Tory or Leornal, honestly. Maybe even Shayjol? Um, what can I do for you?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°You can get dressed, for starters,¡± she gestured to his bare chest and glanced appraisingly at his thin, cloth pants. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to show you around town, and I would rather you be as covered as possible. If I have to deal with curious or suspicious civilians all day then this will end up being a very short tour.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to come in?¡± Mason asked, opening the door wider.


    She nodded and came in, and walked past him straight to the cupboards on one side of the room. Rummaging through them, she pulled out a tin of something Mason hadn¡¯t yet investigated, and then something resembling a kettle and several mugs. ¡°Do you mind if I make tea?¡±


    She showed no sign of caring what his answer was.


    The indifference bordering on coldness did little to faze Mason at this point. He was used to nobody knowing what to make of him, but being dismissed by such a pretty face did serve as a reminder that he was not really in the right place to be focusing on anything more than the essentials of growing stronger and ensuring the survival of his people.


    ¡°Sure, I guess,¡± he muttered as he went into the other room to pull on his rough leather outfit and dark cloak. He came out of the room with the hood upturned to obscure his face, and he tried his hardest to activate his Glamour to make him seem more like a Darkest Night. His default settings for the Glamour seemed to be either looking like Demon, or looking like Mowry, so he did his best to try and shuffle the characteristics.


    When he came out though, the woman laughed, ¡°Who do you think you¡¯re going to fool with that?¡±


    Mason stifled a blush, and the Glamour fell quickly. ¡°What? I didn¡¯t want to look like Mowry, but I wanted to be more like a Darkest Night.¡±


    ¡°A Marran,¡± she corrected, walking over to him with the telltale flicker in her eyes that Mason was beginning to recognize as a sign that she was focusing with her mana sight. ¡°Your mana was so screwed up and garbled that you looked like you had a disease. Let me see your glamour with Mowrytal¡¯s appearance.¡±


    Her certainty and confidence kept Mason off-guard, so he obliged. ¡°How do you even know about my glamour?¡±


    ¡°Well I¡¯m not an amateur, for one. Unlike most of the people in this town, I actually studied magic, among a great many other things. Also you may not have cared to talk to any of us, but the band definitely spent a good deal of time talking about you. The captain said she saw you in the guise of her brother after the fight with that big nasty warrior,¡± she explained while she made a variety of gestures that made no sense to Mason.


    There was mana at her fingertips, and she seemed to be using it like a magnet, pulling his own mana around his body. As she pulled down his hood and stood close to him, moving her hands just a fraction of an inch from his body, he grew nervous, but she seemed to see nothing odd about it at all. Her every movement was confident, and her face betrayed almost no emotion.


    ¡°There, do you feel where I pulled your mana? Activate your glamour as if you were Mowry, and let it circulate to those points. It¡¯s not going to be convincing if anyone looks closely, but with any luck, nobody will.¡±


    Mason did as he was told, feeling like a child, and he felt something strange, like the spell sort of clicked into place along the points she had dragged his mana. ¡°How did you do that?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Well, your glamour isn¡¯t a spell, so it¡¯s pretty vulnerable in general. It¡¯s like your mana just followed Mowry¡¯s memory- you were mimicking him, basically. So when you tried to mess with that yourself, you just jumbled up the flow,¡± she stepped back and smiled for the first time since she had shown up, admiring her work. ¡°So I gave your mana a new path to follow that isn¡¯t too far off from what Mowry¡¯s own pattern, but was just different enough that nobody should feel like they recognize you.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to call me an idiot if I say I have no idea what that means? I can see and feel the mana flowing, but I don¡¯t really understand how one of you would identify someone by that flow,¡± Mason admitted sheepishly.


    She actually looked shocked, ¡°Of course I¡¯m not going to call you an idiot. I¡¯m surprised your mana flows properly at all, if the stories are true about you. I¡¯d say you¡¯re doing fairly well.¡±


    The compliment made Mason blush, and he had a sudden urge to turn away before he remembered that she couldn¡¯t actually see what he looked like, and might not be able to realize he was blushing. ¡°Well, thanks, I guess?¡±


    She nodded and looked to say something, but the sound of the kettle whistling caught her attention. ¡°Oh great! Have you had any of our tea before?¡± she asked, moving swiftly around the room to prepare their cups.


    ¡°Um, no,¡± he admitted. ¡°Hey, can I be honest and admit I¡¯m a bit of an asshole?¡±


    She stopped what she was doing and looked at him with what looked like a bit of subtle curiosity on her typically reserved face, ¡°That¡¯s a strange thing to admit, but if it makes you feel better, I guess.¡±


    ¡°No, wait,¡± he realized the misunderstanding and nervously expounded, ¡°I meant, I feel like an asshole because I don¡¯t know your name and you¡¯re supposed to be escorting me and now you¡¯re making me tea and teaching me more about mana than honestly anyone other than Shaywise since she had to explain to me that you guys can¡¯t see light.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that. I am Faynel, daughter of Leenel. You met her, if you forgot that too,¡± she handed him a mug and sat down on the couch. ¡°And if you¡¯re wondering if she sent me to spy on you on behalf of the council,¡± she considered for a second, ¡°Okay, I was picked to watch you on behalf of the council. I figured you probably actually wouldn¡¯t puzzle that one out on your own.¡±


    ¡°What are they worried I¡¯m going to do?¡±


    ¡°Lead our enemies into the city, steal the souls of our children, and generally just sow chaos and danger wherever you go,¡± Faynel explained as if listing the worries that everyone would have in this situation.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s nice to more formally meet you, Faynel,¡± Mason said, extending the hand that wasn¡¯t holding his tea.


    She looked at it warily, ¡°You¡¯re not going to pull my soul from my body with that, right?¡±


    ¡°I need my staff to do that, and it¡¯s still in the other room. But I appreciate the suggestion.¡±


    Her laughter was quick and sudden, and she shifted so she was sitting on her own legs, and looked up at Mason amicably, ¡°I¡¯m not actually worried. I talked to Leornal before coming here and he assured me that you wouldn¡¯t be able to harm me if you tried.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t?¡± Mason asked, tempted to challenge her confidence in the matter.


    ¡°I might not be able to take Torysen down in a fair fight, but I could probably evade her long enough to leave her exhausted. I¡¯m not a member of the band for nothing, after all.¡±


    Mason considered this while looking closer at her body. Though she wasn¡¯t taller than him, her legs were still long and thin, and most of her movements did suggest a certain grace and strength. But there was a better way to evaluate her actual abilities, ¡°What¡¯s your agility then?¡±


    Her eyes widened and then narrowed, and she looked conspiratorial, ¡°Very few people in New Marra will talk about the stats so directly. I¡¯m glad they haven¡¯t infected you with that nonsense yet. It¡¯s thirteen, by the way. I¡¯ll let you wonder whether or not that¡¯s my highest stat.¡±


    Mason gawked. Her agility was nearly double his own. Even if their strengths were comparable and all of her other stats were low, she¡¯d likely be able to outmaneuver him endlessly as well.


    ¡°Impressed?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Very."


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky we¡¯ve been forbidden from training today, or I¡¯d have to demonstrate just how outmatched you really are,¡± she teased with a hint of fire in her eyes.


    Her energy for combat must be infectious, because Mason¡¯s muscles ached with desire to try his hand at fighting Faynel that very moment.

 ~ Forty - New Marra (Six)

    ¡°What¡¯s it like stealing a soul?¡± Faynel asked curiously while they walked through the town.


    Mason¡¯s heart skipped a beat and he looked around, but nobody seemed to be paying them any mind. This section of the town was busy and ugly, which reminded Mason of pretty much every other part of New Marra he had seen so far.


    When he threw on mana sight, there were plenty of wonders to revel in. Every wall was alive with mana and symbols decorated the space above each doorway to indicate the purpose and the affinity of the building. Without mana sight though, it merely looked as if someone had splashed tar on every surface in sight.


    ¡°That¡¯s- I don¡¯t know, It¡¯s complicated, I guess? I¡¯d say it burns but it¡¯s nothing like that way mana used to burn me before I had a tolerance. When the soul is processing it¡¯s like my body and mind forget what each sense is like, I get pretty twitchy, magic starts doing stuff I don¡¯t understand, and from my experience, the souls tend to be really fucking angry when I go to talk to them,¡± Mason explained, feeling like he was vastly oversimplifying the whole thing. He also wasn¡¯t sure why he was explaining this to her at all.


    ¡°Even Mowry was angry? He always seemed so stoic when I met him,¡± she pondered. ¡°He also kind of creeped me out. He was intense, but people tended to overlook it, or at least nobody ever admitted to me they felt something was off.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess Mowry wasn¡¯t angry. He defended me against Geralt since I met them at about the same time, and apparently built the whole structure of my soul or something,¡± Mason squinted as he tried to make sense of it for himself, ¡°You know, you ask a lot of questions nobody else does. Talking to you is very confusing.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just because you don¡¯t know anything at all. It¡¯s a wonder you¡¯re still alive.¡±


    ¡°Okay, seriously,¡± Mason grumped, ¡°Do Marrans just like to insult people? I¡¯ve been called an idiot and a child more times in the past few weeks dealing with your people than in a year back on Earth.¡±


    A smile grew on her face, and she beamed at him as if she took great pleasure in hurting him further, ¡°Can you blame us for making fun of you when you don¡¯t understand things we teach to children? You don¡¯t actually seem dumb, though. You learn fast and can speak well. But you really don¡¯t know the simplest things. Like, look, follow me,¡± she pointed to a building with a rune above it that Mason couldn¡¯t recognize.


    A cheery man with dirt on his hands, face, and apron greeted them enthusiastically as they entered the building, ¡°Ahh, I thought I heard Torysen¡¯s band had returned. It is so lovely to see you, Faynel. And your companion, ah¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I do not know your name.¡±


    ¡°This is Senmay,¡± Faynel said in her deceptively charming voice. ¡°He¡¯s been living under a rock more or less literally since before the Trials, and my mother decided to take him in and help him catch up to the more general intelligence. I¡¯m showing him around the city.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± the shopkeeper replied uncertainly, ¡°Well your mother is a wise woman, so if she is vouching for him, I won¡¯t ask anything more. What can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°Would you show me the five common herbs that go into any of the standard health potions? I¡¯m trying to prove to Senmay that he¡¯s an idiot.¡±


    Mason glared at her. She seemed to be going a little far with her explanations, but most of the people they interacted with went along with anything she said, though Mason couldn¡¯t tell if they were acting reverent or scared.


    The shopkeeper laid out five herbs: three different leaves, a root, and the stalk of something. Faynel pointed, ¡°Can you identify any of these?¡±


    Of course, he couldn¡¯t, other than knowing that they were related to brewing health potions. ¡°No, Faynel.¡± He couldn¡¯t keep the resentment from his voice.


    She moved past him and, with the help of the herbalist, began explaining the basics of the plants and how to make a potion from them. Even alone, supposedly, they were good for vitality, so she bought him a mixed bag and told him to chew them throughout the day to slightly improve his health.


    From there they moved to an enchanter¡¯s shop, where squares of leather were on display in wooden boxes all around the room. Each of them had a physical carving which paled in comparison to what Mason could see with his mana sight.


    The squares of leather each had a different complex embellishment, but Faynel was determined to make Mason truly understand what he was seeing. The embellishments were more three dimensional than the shallow carvings, but were also less shifty and expressive than the runes Mason used to cast spells through.


    ¡°Miss Faynel, I don¡¯t think you need to pressure him to understand each of the enchantments in a single day. I¡¯ve been studying enchanting since I was a boy, and the mysteries reveal themselves to me slowly each day,¡± the thin man said nervously as he watched Faynel hold Mason¡¯s face in front of one of the patches of leather.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, sir. This is an approved and tested training protocol. Back on Marra he came from a backwater town without even a single enchanter or runemaster. One of my duties is to make sure he feels exceptionally familiar with both, and what better way than to closely inspect your fine wares?¡±


    ¡°You can say that but is forcing me this close to the enchantment really supposed to help? Shouldn¡¯t I be trying to activate it for myself or something?¡± Mason grumbled as he pushed back against her hand.


    Faynel had him pressed so close that his face was actually in the middle of the projected embellishment, and he had to activate Focus to see through it and to the carving. For some reason with the way she was touching him, he couldn¡¯t turn off mana sight, and somehow she simultaneously pushed the embellishment out much further from the leather than it would normally rest on an object.


    ¡°I¡¯m teaching you to use your senses, Senmay,¡± she said simply through gritted teeth, not releasing her grip or the flow of her mana at all.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know how my senses work! Let me shine a bright light into your eyes and we¡¯ll see how much that helps you!¡± Fed up, Mason flailed and wrenched himself out of Faynel¡¯s grip. He looked around at the room but when he did so, his Focus on the carvings and embellishments changed.


    For a split second, he could understand how one could be derived from the other, and he could even begin to picture a rune that they could become with enough study and comprehension. The image only lasted for a half-second, but it was long enough to leave Mason stunned. He turned to Faynel with wide eyes and she just nodded stoically.


    ¡°Do you get it now?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Can I see the enchantment for raw Force?¡± Mason asked the enchanter, ignoring Faynel while the gears in his mind began turning.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The small man hesitated, looking at Faynel, then nodded and rushed out of the room. He came back with a pair of leather gloves, each with a carving and an embellishment. The two seemed like halves of the same whole, and when Mason took them in his hands and held them a few inches apart, the image they created looked oddly familiar.


    Drawn in, he pulled on the gloves and began to move his hands in the air, and the images of the carvings paired with the shifting of the embellishments looked eerily similar to the Force rune he had in his mind.


    ¡°For a country bumpkin, you pick up runecraft quickly,¡± Faynel commented with a smile in her eyes that she seemed to hold back from her face.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a high intelligence stat,¡± Mason said, his voice dry and distracted. He pulled off the gloves and handed them back to the confused enchanter, then turned back to Faynel, ¡°So do you have some vague and passive aggressive lines to feed me while I mess with this stuff for the next few weeks, or can I get you to explain how all of this actually works?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be glad to!¡± She said, beckoning toward the door.


    Mason wasn¡¯t clear on whether she meant she was going to share an explanation with him, or feed him more vague lines.


    She led him beyond the city gates on the north side of the town, and he followed quietly as she greeted guards and scouts passing in and out. It was a relief to see a spread of trees and shrubs before him, as well as some more basic wooden structures. The city had its unique charms, he supposed, but in general it was fairly ugly. He couldn¡¯t get used to the uneven tar-like defensive material that coated the buildings, and mana-sight was still too draining to use regularly.


    ¡°We keep a lot of forward outposts to make sure that any direct raiding from the Corrosi or the goblins can be handled outside of the city,¡± Faynel explained as she passed between two short wooden structures and onto a thoroughly flattened dirt field. ¡°Of course, some sneak past and through, but for the most part any forces that we¡¯re unprepared for tend to be smaller groups just looking for a fight. It ended up being safer to just give them something to attack outside the gates, so we could keep them closed during the melee.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just use archers and magic to fend the attackers off from the walls?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°Yeah, we could,¡± was Faynel¡¯s only explanation though her tone implied that he was dumb for even asking.


    As they passed into the open field, Faynel motioned for Mason to stand on one end, and she walked about ten steps away and turned to look at him. ¡°So Torysen wanted you to rest and familiarize yourself with the town today, and now you can say that you¡¯ve seen the apothecary, the council chambers, and the enchanter. But I can tell you¡¯re like me, and you¡¯ve got better things to do than go sight-seeing, right?¡±


    The sun was high above them, and the midday heat seemed to have driven most of the Darkest Night into shelter. Faynel might have been a tad sweaty, but other than that the heat barely seemed to faze her, and her hood protected her from the direct sunlight. She wanted to test him without anyone around- it was the only explanation of why she would have brought him somewhere so exposed during the day when the rest of her people were hidden away.


    Mason considered the hungry look on her face, and found himself grinning. Her mind seemed to just run along its own tracks, and she didn¡¯t really seem to have much fear of anything, if her disregard of Torysen¡¯s wishes was anything to measure by. ¡°Right. I¡¯d rather learn more about these runes.¡±


    ¡°Check your stats. I think you¡¯ll find you¡¯ve already gained a good amount from today¡¯s exercises.¡±


    She was right, though he couldn¡¯t entirely understand what had happened. His Mana Manipulation had gone up by one, as well as his Mana Tolerance and Focus. On top of that, Mana Sight and Glamour had levelled twice, but the most interesting improvement was that his Runecraft had levelled twice without him really working directly on his runes.


    He had also picked up the Herbalism skill, but he didn¡¯t see himself using that a whole lot any time soon.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever gained so many improvements without fighting. What did you do to me?¡±


    Faynel shrugged and continued to stay in place a few feet away from him, ¡°People think that the skills level from use, but that¡¯s bullshit. A skill improves as you do, and a large part of that is understanding what you¡¯re doing. So I taught you about how your glamour works to move mana around your body, I made you Focus on the runes and enchantments until you learned something about them.


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to get you ready to join the band, but it seems like nobody has bothered to give you even the basics. Have you gotten any skill to twenty-five yet?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Mana Tolerance is at twenty-four, but that¡¯s my highest skill yet. It levelled pretty quickly while I was torturing myself early on,¡± Mason explained calmly, still reading over his updated stats.


    ¡°Mana Tolerance, huh?¡± She looked thoughtful for a second. ¡°I don¡¯t know what the bonus for achieving level twenty-five in that will be. Mana Tolerance kind of comes built into us Marrans so we don¡¯t get a skill for it. Bet you anything I can push your level over the edge though, if you¡¯ll trust me for a second.¡± There it was again- a mischievous gleam in her eye that Mason was convinced made her look more dangerous than his Demon glamour ever did.


    ¡°If you kill me, I¡¯ll make sure the humans come back to haunt you,¡± he joked, though his tone was nervous.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so melodramatic.¡± She stepped forward in a lazy motion, but somehow closed the gap between them in no time. Grabbing his hand with her right, she began to channel mana into the tips of the fingers on her left hand. Then she grabbed onto his arm, hard.


    He felt the mana burning hot against his skin, and instinctively he pulled on the connection with his staff and triggered Mana Vampirism. She pulled her hand back and slapped him hard, and the shock reminded him to control himself. He turned off the vampirism and instead focused on the pain, trying not to bite his lip or scream or do anything that might make him look weak in front of her.


    The mana seemed to take his lack of response as a challenge though, and it spread from the surface of her fingers in a rippling pattern through his arm. He hadn¡¯t realized that mana could still have this effect on him, especially since it wasn¡¯t pumping through his body, it was just pressing into his skin, but the pain was hardly different than the feeling of his skin against a hot stove.


    He triggered Focus to keep his control, and instead of focusing on the pain itself, he locked eyes with Faynel. Her eyes glimmered with a ferocity that didn¡¯t seem to suit such a simple exercise, and for a moment he was worried that she had more malicious intent toward him than he had previously suspected. But as he looked deeper he realized that was paranoia talking. This ferocity was simply what lay buried inside of her.


    And he didn¡¯t want to back down from it. If he couldn¡¯t activate mana vampirism, he had other ways to fight back. He pulled from the core of his own mana and sent it into his arm, trying to make the tendrils of it reach up to the places she was grabbing and wall off her mana, or reinforce his flesh. Her eyes narrowed as she felt him move against her, but she didn¡¯t hit him. Instead, she seemed to tighten her grip, and Mason willed his mana against hers with an even greater determination.


    But his mana seemed to be expended rapidly as it defended against hers, even while she seemed to have more to send his way. He felt his pool empty in no time, but noticed that while it was emptying the pain seemed almost insignificant. That must be what she was trying to teach him.


    ¡°I¡¯m out!¡± he shouted finally, wrenching his arm back.


    She grinned at him with a satisfied expression and stepped back before nodding and letting her face fall inscrutable again. ¡°You did well. Now look at your stats again.¡±


    Mason¡¯s eyes went wide when he did. That short exchange, possibly only a minute or two, had brought his Mana Tolerance up to level twenty-seven. It was undoubtedly his greatest skill at that point. There was also a notification right after the level up indicator.


    Mana Tolerance has passed level 25, and you¡¯ve become proficient. You¡¯ve gained one Focus Point in Willpower and Endurance to commemorate the growth of your skill.


    A wise man recoils from poison and learns to treat its infections and shun its sources. Strength is learning to use the poison as a weapon. You will no longer suffer Mana Sickness under most normal circumstances.


    ¡°The Trials suck, honestly. Pretty much everything here is supposed to kill you, and everything else just hasn¡¯t figured out how to yet. But they aren¡¯t without their rewards. Any skill you can get past level twenty-five grants some sort of bonus, and I don¡¯t need to tell you how useful those Focus Points can be. How else do you think I got my agility so high?¡±

 ~ Forty-One - New Marra (Seven)

    ¡°Mason,¡± she said in her sweet and level voice.


    He snapped out of the daze he had been in, trying to think about the best ways he could level his skills now that he realized how important it was to do so. ¡°What? I mean, yeah? Yes, Faynel?¡± he stuttered as he tried to balance between familiarity and formality.


    ¡°You wanted me to teach you how runes and enchantments work, right?¡± She smiled as she asked, but her face was twisted subtly. Mason would have missed it but he was exceptionally focused on her at the moment. Something in her tone threw him off.


    ¡°Yeah, of course. Especially if it¡¯ll raise my skill levels just like that.¡±


    ¡°Then hit me.¡± She jumped backwards several feet and crouched slightly like she was ready to pounce. She didn¡¯t touch the thin sword at her side, just stared across the field at Mason tauntingly.


    ¡°I played this game with Torysen and I¡¯m pretty sure I was a hair¡¯s breadth away from being blown away by her,¡± he muttered. He hadn¡¯t even decided if he should grab his sword or his staff.


    ¡°Tory was probably still trying to decide if she wanted to kill you at that point. Luckily for me, she didn¡¯t. I¡¯m not going to be attacking you though. Not seriously, at least,¡± she explained as she began to circle around him, eying him like dinner. ¡°You should just drop your weapons now. You aren¡¯t skilled enough with them for them to help you in this fight.¡±


    Still hesitant, Mason considered preparing Indiscriminate Force, but remembered his drained mana stores. There was no doubt in his mind that she had planned this. He was beginning to suspect she had planned the whole day from start to finish, judging by how quickly she moved him between surprisingly related activities.


    ¡°Alright, but if I¡¯m unarmed, then I¡¯m not going to hold back.¡± He dropped his gear and began to turn in place to follow her with his eyes.


    ¡°Hit me as hard as you can, I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t hurt nearly as much as a punch from a Corrosi,¡± she taunted.


    Mason lunged then, moving quickly for a human, but not nearly quickly enough. By the time he made it within swinging motion of where she had been, she was twice as far away on the opposite side of the circle. He had seen her move, just not quite well enough to follow her or adjust his own momentum.


    He took a step toward and she matched him perfectly with a step backwards. When he moved to the left, she moved around him to the right. Every movement he made she matched him like she had predicted his movements. So he started trying to shake her, feinting left and right, lunging forward and then falling back.


    The field was still patched with mud from the rain two days prior, so he could feel it caking onto his boots and stiffening around the legs of his pants. It distracted him- how could there still be mud if it was this hot out? He couldn¡¯t remember it raining overnight.


    He was shaken from his thoughts by a forceful shove from behind, and he almost went sprawling into a spot of the very mud he had been so fixated by. Even though he had only been thinking about it for a moment, she had somehow seen that weakness and gotten around him.


    She was laughing now, and he jumped to his feet and chased after her, pumping his legs as hard as he could while she nearly effortlessly sprinted away. ¡°God damnit how are you so fast?¡± he complained as she positioned herself the same distance away as earlier in the round.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the first to ask that, you know. There¡¯s two very obvious ways to improve yourself in this world. Strengthen yourself naturally through exercise and nutrition and practice. Or you gather Focus Points and let them do the heavy lifting while you push your limits. Either way, you only get better at something by doing it,¡± she explained, her voice somehow level even though her breathing had picked up.


    Without warning, she rushed at Mason, and he just barely threw himself out of the way before she ran headfirst into him. There was no tackle, no dive- she was just going to move right through him. Mason tried to swing around and chase her, but by the time he had gotten himself moving she was off in the distance.


    ¡°I was already good at running on Marra, so when we suddenly showed up here and I had dangerous monsters to chase or be chased by, I had plenty of opportunity to increase my speed. Then I got a skill for Haste, which allows me to burn stamina and mana for a speed increase, and I got that up to level 25 for the agility focus point. Then I joined the Roving Band and trained up footwork for another agility focus point.¡±


    Footwork, that was right. He not only had the skill, but he had a challenge for it. He took the first stance as she smiled at him and kept talking.


    ¡°I also had a challenge called Agility Superiority. It required me to find some particularly fast opponents and beat them in a fair competition. That just gave me more practice, and more focus points.¡±


    He didn¡¯t respond, but he began moving himself through the steps and stances of the footwork technique he had been shown. It was mostly a combat stance, but surely he could pull something from it worth more than that.


    Faynel just watched on, amused. Her opponent was no longer charging her, but if he was going to try something clever, she wasn¡¯t going to prevent him. She moved closer to him and began to follow the steps as well. Where he stumbled and moved clumsily, deep in thought, she moved with an unnatural grace through the motions which made it clear that the steps were ingrained in her.


    Mason ignored her at first, instead ensuring that he remembered how each motion moved into the next, and together they moved around the field in a disharmonized unison. Once he had the basic pattern down though, Mason began to watch how she moved.


    It was as if she had turned the entire footwork routine into a single motion. She never stopped moving, and anytime one foot was planted the other one was already up. Her balance was impeccable and she seemed to draw power for her motions not from the ground below her, but from the strength that resided purely in her muscles.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Trying to pick up his speed, Mason began to imitate her. He stumbled more often than not, often finding himself awkwardly trying to lift both feet at once, or with an arm out of position and throwing off his center of gravity.


    Her instincts let her move through the steps without thinking, so she concentrated closely on his movements even while he tried to mirror hers. To an onlooker, they would seem to be in something halfway between a battle and a dance. She was thrilled though to see her plan coming along perfectly. She had been forbidden to spar with Mason, but that didn¡¯t mean she couldn¡¯t goad him into training himself.


    Enticing him into exploring the mysteries of magic, trying to push himself into understanding the possibilities of the mana flowing through his body, and even challenging his understanding of his simplest movements. It could have taken days to get someone less motivated to undertake any of these steps. Shayjol, she remembered, hadn¡¯t cared for the ideas behind strength. He wanted to be taught spells, and wanted to improve his strength with his axe.


    Mason wanted to understand things.


    Faynel had wished he would have chased her a little longer. She had so many more sneaky tricks to pull on him. But though the exercise would have done him good, he never would have caught her like that. Like this though, running through the paces of the footwork, he might actually really improve himself.


    Her thoughts were cut short by a flash of motion and a mild sting on the back of her hand. She looked at her hand first, then up to Mason, and was taken aback by his wide grin. She could see the mana boiling within him, excited and eager and flowing happily.


    ¡°I think you owe me an explanation of runes and enchantments,¡± he said with a voice oozing in self-satisfaction.


    ¡°How did you¡­?¡± she questioned, still trying to understand what had happened.


    ¡°You got distracted by something, which I figured might happen if I got you to do something you had done a hundred times before. As long as I was chasing you, your guard was up. So I stopped.¡± He shrugged as if it had been almost accidental. Which it had. ¡°I also gained five levels in footwork while watching you.¡±


    ¡°You only got me because I was so used to seeing you stumble and fall that I didn¡¯t react to your lunge!¡± she finally shouted, realizing she had been beaten.


    ¡°Well, yeah.¡±


    Still fuming, Faynel led him to a shelter with a basin of clean water and several long benches to sit at. They sat opposite one another on different benches and drank from their water pouches while she worked up the energy to explain him his reward.


    Eventually, she leaned forward and looked him right in the eye, and as she shifted her weight their knees touched. She spoke like she was trying to recite some great secret, and her expression was even more intense than usual.


    ¡°All people are born and built of holy mana,¡± she began with a dramatic air to her voice that faded as she adjusted the speech, ¡°well, except for you of course. And probably most races not from Marra.¡±


    Mason nodded, more interested in the gist of the tale than the details.


    ¡°When the first Marrans learned to pull on the holy mana within themselves, each spell came at great cost. A sigilkeeper, as they were called back then, would cut a sigil into the back of their hand in time of great need, and begin to pour their mana through the wound and the crystals in their blood. As the mana passed through the wound, the sigil would glow, and they would form the first embellishments in the air.


    ¡°These embellishments were crude, simple things, but they were not without power. The sigilkeeper would then pass through many motions, so that the embellishment would blur and form into a rune above them. Only through great concentration and willpower could these runes be used to transform the holy mana into all kind of effects. It was said the greatest among them could create waves of fire, split the earth, summon beasts from beyond if they could form the runes given to them by the Source¡±


    Mason was enraptured by her telling. Not because it was a particularly good story. In fact, cutting open your hand and doing a dance every time you wanted to cast a spell seemed pretty awful. But the intensity with which Faynel told the story, paired with the rolling of her voice, created a captivating effect.


    But then she ruined it because she seemed to forget how the story actually went, which led to her rambling through the rest. ¡°And yeah,¡± she said nervously while looking up to the ceiling of their shelter, ¡°Eventually we realized that we could weave mana into cloth and leather as our sigils, and we could also create embellishments through a semi-crystallization of mana within objects as well. So for a couple hundred years we would just use enchanted armor to cast spells, until finally some monk up in the mountains somewhere realized that if you just formed the rune using your own mana inside of yourself, you could cast the spell anyways.


    ¡°After that the only time people really did the whole sigilkeeper ritual was for, well, rituals, or study. It was sometimes easier to create new runes through the sigil dances, but not always. Then there were like a hundred branches of study and colleges formed that all insisted their way was right, and eventually people stopped caring anyways because why cast a spell when a mana expert could imbue an enchantment into an object which would allow anyone to activate it with just a small burst of mana.


    ¡°Plus, my grandmother swears that all of this is pointless. She uses an entirely different form of spell-casting that the colleges considers too dangerous to teach, but I am not going into those politics right now. You¡¯ll learn about that pretty soon though.¡±


    Mason looked at her skeptically. This explained why Leornal was an accountant, he guessed. Their world really knew how to take the awe and wonder out of magic. ¡°But then why did that shop even sell all those enchantments anyways? What did they do?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that!¡± Faynel seemed to remember that her rambling explanation really didn¡¯t explain anything at all. ¡°So embellishments and sigils are still useful, though they¡¯re pretty often used just for decoration. If you use a lot of force magic, you can use certain force sigils to either enhance your power or alter the effects of your rune. And a really good enchanter can put different effects directly into an object, like boots that make you run faster, or a knife that naturally conducts mana so it can be sharper.¡±


    ¡°Oh, like this!¡± Mason opened up his pack and pulled out a sheathed blade that Leornal had given him after one of their fights in that strange city. He pulled it from its sheathe and handed it hilt first to Faynel.


    ¡°Where did you get this, Mason?¡± She looked genuinely surprised. ¡°This is a pretty valuable sword. I don¡¯t even know what metal it is, and that rune on it looks awfully complex.¡±


    ¡°I think we found it buried and protected by some female soul-bound yeti looking monster?¡± Mason said, uncertain. He had actually forgotten about it.


    ¡°I get the feeling you humans come with some special luck ability. Between this and your staff, if you had any actual skill you¡¯d be a pretty scary fighter. Anyways,¡± she continued, ¡°runes and enchantments are great. Since you already have a rune, try to figure out what the sigil and the embellishment it¡¯s connected to look like, and you¡¯ll be able to do a lot more with your spell. Just be careful not to start studying any new runes. Your force rune is special, so we need to make sure you keep learning only those special ones.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Mason asked, suddenly annoyed. ¡°That was the great reward I got for managing to hit you? All day you¡¯ve been tricking me into learning stuff that shot all my skill levels up, and now you¡¯re just going to tell me that, ¡®hey everything is connected and you¡¯ll get better if you study.¡¯ This reward sucks.¡±


    ¡°Well what did you expect? You cheated anyways so I¡¯m cheating you for your reward. And we¡¯ll be training together every day so it¡¯s not like you actually needed to see anymore instant gains.¡±

 ~ Forty-Two - New Marra (Eight)

    Leornal sat on the couch in Mason¡¯s house with a glowing orb in his hands. Mana sight what it was, books of the ink and paper variety were a tad difficult for a New Marran to read, but transmitting information through mana stored in a crystal structure was effortless. In between pages of the story he was reading, he¡¯d reach down to scoop a spoonful of the soup he had prepared into his mouth, and wonder where Mason had run off to.


    The boy should have been back hours ago, but there were plenty of explanations for his disappearance that weren¡¯t a cause for worry. The rest of the city might fear Mason, but Leornal had watched his desperate kamikaze fighting style and knew the real truth; he wasn¡¯t a threat to anyone with a lick of training.


    Anyways, if another hour passed he would probably raise the alarm. But for now, the soup was still warm, and his story was just getting good. One would think reading about warriors fighting in lands unknown would be less interesting when one was, in fact, a warrior themselves fighting in lands unknown. But he honestly just felt like he could relate better now. Besides, he¡¯d been reading these stories for years and didn¡¯t see any reason to stop.


    Laughter drew his attention as the door opened. He nodded as Mason stumbled into the room, but his eyebrow raised when Faynel fell in after him with a peculiar look on her face. Was she laughing?


    ¡°You burn the bones of giant ancient monsters in order to get to the store on a daily basis? No, that¡¯s too much. You have got to be fucking with me now,¡± Faynel laughed as she spoke, trying to picture how she would do such a thing. Was his whole race a bunch of necromancers?


    ¡°No, completely serious, but it¡¯s not quite like that. Like I said, it¡¯s oil. You Marrans have mana in your bones, but we just have an element called carbon, you know, in coal or diamonds? Well it turns into oil eventually, somehow. I¡¯m not really an expert on it,¡± Mason too was grinning, too focused on Faynel to notice immediately that Leornal was watching them both.


    And Leornal realized what was so odd about seeing Faynel like this. He¡¯d seen her laugh before. They were friends, of a sort. But he¡¯d never seen this. She was flirting. With a human. It was disconcerting, but he supposed Mason seemed more like her age than the rest of the band.


    He cleared his throat and spoke up, ¡°You two are still together, then?¡± His tone was accusatory.


    Mason was surprised to see his home wasn¡¯t empty, but Faynel looked outright embarrassed. ¡°Turns out he held up during training much better than I expected,¡± she said.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t supposed to train with him, if I remember correctly. You were supposed to show him around town, and I remember you demanding not be made to waste your whole day with him.¡±


    Faynel blushed the purplish color of a Marran, but thankfully she stood between Mason and Leornal in a way that prevented the human from seeing it. ¡°I was forbidden from sparring with him, not training him. We didn¡¯t fight, I just taught him all of the skills you seemed to have been to busy being an asshole to teach him while you were trapped and fighting for your lives.¡±


    ¡°We lived,¡± Leornal shrugged as he dismissed her jab, ¡°But tell me, was your training before or after the drinking? How could you have even been sure that the swill wouldn¡¯t have killed him? You know nothing about his physiology.¡±


    ¡°After, obviously,¡± Faynel spat.


    Mason jumped in then, ¡°Wait, that stuff could have killed me?¡± Then he added, more to himself, ¡°I probably should stop drinking everything people offer to me before using Analyze.¡±


    While Mason stood confused and a little worried about his wellbeing, Faynel and Leornal stared each other down. Leornal seemed to enjoy the tension, but Faynel was looking increasingly embarrassed. Finally she caught a whiff of the food and decided to submit, ¡°Wait, did you bring food?¡±


    Leornal smiled broadly then, and Mason thought he looked vaguely like a predator. ¡°A hearty stew, and loaves of some nut bread. I wasn¡¯t sure how much humans ate, so I brought a lot.¡±


    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m about your size, so I imagine I eat about as much as anyone else,¡± Mason said insecurely.


    ¡°We can survive for quite some time on a combination of mana or food. But you get all of your energy from the food and the stars, right?¡± Leornal asked with genuine curiosity.


    ¡°Yeah. I guess I keep forgetting that¡¯s weird.¡±


    They all sat down to eat and devoured their food greedily. Mason did eat a little more than the other two, but he also had had a pretty long day of training. His thoughts were a bit muddled from the drink he had with Faynel, but even still he could tell there was a change in the atmosphere from when he had been alone with her.


    Faynel and Leornal didn¡¯t seem unfriendly, but there was something between them that tugged at Mason¡¯s brain. He dwelled on it between spoonfuls of soup, but a memory fell into place witha clunk and he realized. He choked down everything in his mouth before shouting with his drunken intelligence, ¡°Oh right, you¡¯re into her mom!¡±


    Possibly surprisingly, Leornal laughed out loud at this, but Faynel looked petrified.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°How does he know that?¡± she said in an uncharacteristically high voice.


    ¡°High perception?¡± Mason suggested sheepishly.


    ¡°Leornal, have I told you I hate you? Couldn¡¯t you do even a slightly good job of keeping that a secret?¡± she said plainly, ignoring Mason.


    Leornal shrugged and put the rest of the bowl of soup to his mouth. He slurped it down and then responded calmly, ¡°Your mother is a very respectable woman and free to see whomever she likes.¡±


    Faynel groaned, and Mason wished he had chosen to still his tongue. At least he understood why these two were so weird around each other.


    <hr>


    The first thing Mason noticed in the morning was the ground rushing up at him as he rolled off the couch and fell face-first on the floor. The second thing he noticed was that the pain in his face was minor compared to the throbbing ache in the back of his skull. His stomach burned, too, and he tried to remember¡­ well, anything.


    Mind blank, he pushed himself up and looked around, only to regret that decision when a stray beam of sunlight struck him in the eyes, making the headache immediately worse. His willpower diminished, Mason covered his eyes with some sort of fabric that he had found from somewhere nearby, and he groaned as he laid back down on the ground.


    The floor smelt like dust, and the vaguely oily scent of improperly cleaned blood. Panic coursed through his body- was it his? But the wound in his head didn¡¯t feel like it was a bloody one. It ached like¡­ like¡­


    A hangover?


    He swore, and sat back up with the cloth still over his eyes. His body was leaden and weak so his movements were slow, but he managed to pull himself to a sitting position against the couch, with his head mercifully free from the onslaught of sunlight.


    What had he drunk to leave him feeling like this? In his relative youth, he had never had a hangover like this. His stomach not only burned, it sloshed with a greasy, queasy feeling. This was worse, somehow, than the mana poisoning. The thought amused him, but his own laughter caused his gut to ache so he stifled it as he bent over.


    A hand brushed over his hair lightly, and even amidst the torrent of sensations he didn¡¯t want to be feeling, he noticed the fingers tangling themselves up in his hair as they gently tipped his head back.


    Mason knew he should resist, but it seemed like energy he didn¡¯t have to expend. Words that he didn¡¯t understand were said, and he was fairly certain he wasn¡¯t the one to say them. He got the idea that he should open his mouth though, and he did. A cool liquid was poured down his throat. His mouth was clamped shut so he couldn¡¯t puke it back up. He would have flailed, but lacked the energy.


    Several moments passed and the cool sensation in his stomach cut through the queasiness slightly. If he didn¡¯t feel stronger he at least felt less like he was weighed down with lead. Then, finally, last of all, the pain in his head dulled to a distracting ache. When he stopped struggling, his mouth was freed and he sucked down air like he had been near death.


    There was laughter, he was sure of that now. Did it seem concerned? Better question: Had he been poisoned? Even better question: Who the hell was there?


    He opened his eyes finally and despite not being in direct light, the room still seemed too bright. Looking toward the hand he saw dark skin, and he followed it up to a pair of bright, violet eyes that mesmerized him in his brain-dead state.


    ¡°Are you even listening to me?¡± asked the woman attached to the violet eyes. She looked amused, but the expression was only in her eyes. Her face seemed drawn into stoicism.


    ¡°What?¡± was all Mason could muster, though he had better thoughts somewhere in his mind.


    ¡°Well, you can talk. And your eyes work, even if they¡¯re a bit wide and dumb looking.¡± She spoke to someone else then, ¡°He¡¯s not dead. I told you it wasn¡¯t really poisonous. Just, you know, more potent than he was ready for. I¡¯ll be more gentle with the human from now on.¡±


    A more grizzled voice responded, one that seemed older, and familiar. ¡°You better find a way to get him ready for training today. Torysen wants to watch the two of you spar, and I don¡¯t think you want to admit to her that you gave him mana-infused liquor and nearly killed him. She¡¯ll want that privilege for herself if anyone is to get it.¡±


    Torysen. Leornal. Faynel. The drink.


    It had been a good drink, if potent. He had felt it flood his body powerfully at first, but that was so common with all the soul, stamina, life, and mana stealing he had been up to recently that he hadn¡¯t even really thought hard about it at the time. But then his brain had been addled, and he hadn¡¯t thought about much.


    And now that his mind was slowly ticking back into full function, he was beginning to remember a whole lot of things which he was unsure he wanted to come back. The Trials. Those creepy gremlins. The endless complexity of the runes and training. He looked back at Faynel again and grinned before he realized what he was doing. It had been quick. There was no way she would have noticed. He was sure.


    Meanwhile Leornal and Faynel considered him carefully, before Leornal finally marched out of the door without a goodbye, leaving Faynel to tend to the poisoned human.


    Mason let his mind continue to try and catch up as something pleasant flowed through his limbs, and only looked up again when Faynel tapped him on the head and handed him a warm mug of tea.


    He began to sip it without hesitation, and Faynel sat on the couch next to him, looking down at his perch on the floor. ¡°Well, did we learn anything from last night?¡± she asked with a vicious cheer.


    Instinctively, Mason flipped to his status screen. Two levels in Mana Tolerance, one in both Mana Sight and Mana Manipulation. He told her.


    ¡°Not skills. I meant¡­ Look, I¡¯m sorry that the drink kind of almost killed you.¡± Mason couldn¡¯t tell if she sounded sincere.


    ¡°Um, yeah. It¡¯s okay, I guess. If I held a grudge against everything that almost killed me I¡¯d be a typhoon of rage at this point,¡± Mason shrugged. The tea was good. Invigorating, really.


    Faynel looked like she was struggling with something, but she kept silent for a minute. She looked at him, then cast her vision around the room.


    ¡°Did you stay here last night?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°No!¡± she said with uncharacteristic vehemence. ¡°I didn¡¯t really want to draw attention to what was happening so I went home. Leornal watched over you. I just came back in the morning.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t really sure where he was going with the line of questioning, so he just shrugged it off. ¡°Leornal said¡­ we¡¯re supposed to spar? In front of Torysen?¡±


    Faynel still looked uncomfortable. ¡°Yeah, if you can stand that long.¡±


    It was as good a time as any to try. Mason set his mug next to him on the ground after a long sip, and tried to push himself to his feet. He was wobbly, dizzy, and plopped backwards onto the couch in mere seconds. The poorly constructed cushions compressed and made him lean a little into Faynel, but only for the brief moment before he leaned over and collapsed in the other direction.


    ¡°I need meat. Grease. Fireboar,¡± Mason groaned, salivating.

 ~ Forty-Three - New Marra (Nine)

    Mason counted his lucky stars that the Darkest Night disdained the bright sunlight. The sparring was pushed off until early evening, when the light had dimmed and the air began to cool. This allowed Mason the luxury of a nearly full day of rest, and for once he actually took that seriously.


    He didn¡¯t trace over his rune, didn¡¯t dig into his soul and talk to Mowry and Geralt, didn¡¯t practice his fighting stances, or do anything that could be considered constructive at all. Instead, he mostly napped. Occasionally he would pace around his shanty of a home and rummage through the cupboards, but he had found a certain peaceful comfort in lying on the couch with even his mind hardly wandering.


    This laziness was a relic of his past that he knew he¡¯d need to shrug off entirely before long, but for a brief few hours he felt connected to his human side. He¡¯d gotten plastered with a girl he barely knew, woke up feeling wrecked, and slept away the day. If he had access to cartoons the day would have been complete. He even pondered whether it might be possible to find old re-runs in his branch of the Tree of Memories, but that seemed more likely to cause headaches than improve his rest.


    But time moved on and the sun eventually set, and he found himself in a familiar field outside of the town, with a lot more people around than he had expected. Several Marrans he hadn¡¯t met before came up to greet him, and they were polite if curt, seemingly more interested in meeting him to say they knew the human than because they actually wanted to know anything about him.


    They were people after all. He felt like he was at a dinner party, rather than a sparring match.


    Once he had been spun around the small crowd of two to three dozen people a few times, Torysen came up and took his elbow, pulling him off the field and into the covered shelter he had rested in with Faynel the previous day.


    She sized him up quietly, and Mason felt like he was seeing the Torysen who had first agreed to train him, rather than the side of her that resented him.


    ¡°You recognize what this is about, correct?¡± she asked him after looking him over thoroughly.


    ¡°Well I¡¯ve come to the conclusion it¡¯s not about practice, at least.¡±


    Torysen sighed and shook her head, ¡°You look unsteady. What¡¯s wrong with you today?¡±


    Mason didn¡¯t want to lie, but the truth seemed like more than he owed her at the moment. ¡°I discovered that not all Marran food agrees with my digestion. I was sick earlier, but I¡¯m alright now. I can fight.¡±


    Her look grew more wary, ¡°Demon. Tales have been spreading about you over the past few days. They say you have incredible powers and are seven feet tall and single-handedly saved my band from a tribe of Corrosi. Of course, the more skeptical in the city say that you¡¯re a cowardly villain whose crimes I won¡¯t repeat to you now.


    ¡°I need to prove to people that you are just a Marran,¡± she caught herself, ¡°A human. That you are not worthless with a sword, but are no threat to our people either.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean, exactly?¡± Mason was beginning to feel shaky again. Perhaps Faynel hadn¡¯t gotten him drunk the day before on accident. But then why would she have trained him at all? His nerves, mixed with the remnants of his sickness from that morning, left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable.


    ¡°It means don¡¯t make a fool of yourself out there. Use none of your spells. Faynel is a good girl, and if you harm her, I will kill you. But she is also a strong fighter, so if you aren¡¯t prepared, she might do that herself. And do not forget that both sides of the audience are looking for an excuse to hate or fear you.¡±


    ¡°So no pressure, right? You¡¯re really great at this pep talk thing.¡± The hangover was making him cranky.


    Torysen scowled but she didn¡¯t chastise him. ¡°Are you ready? I¡¯ll explain the full rules in front of everyone.¡±


    Mason nodded and spoke with forced confidence through his nerves, ¡°I just have to put on a good show. I can do that.¡±


    They walked onto the field and Torysen beckoned for Mason to stand opposite Faynel. Mason was caught by the look in her eyes- she seemed all competitor at this moment. There was a ferocity there he hadn¡¯t seen the day before, much deeper than her naturally unattached demeanor.


    ¡°This is a real fight,¡± she said quietly. Mason simply nodded because Torysen was beginning to speak to the audience.


    ¡°The rules are simple,¡± the captain started loudly as the onlookers quieted down. Mason saw Leornal off to the side, arms crossed. Shayjol and his family were also in the audience, and he wished they had been the ones talking to him before Torysen. ¡°Faynel and Mason Nevels will go three rounds to first contact. I¡¯ve marked out a circle on the ground to indicate their boundary. If either of them step out of that ring, they lose the round. If either receives a direct hit to their body, they lose the round. Head shots are forbidden.¡±


    Her simple speech made, she looked between the two of them. She then addressed them, rather than the audience, ¡°Fight well. Go.¡±


    Tension rippled through Mason as Faynel¡¯s stance lowered slightly and the audience began to murmur. They were positioned closely together and the ring was small. There would be no chasing her about this time, which put them slightly closer in terms of skill. But she was also intensely focused, which meant he was unlikely to catch her off-guard with a trick like yesterday.


    They began to circle one another slowly, but neither seemed willing to make the first move. Mason took the delay as a chance to get used to his sparring blade. It was longer than the short sword he had been using, the one he had basically stolen from Treyjol and Shaywise at this point. It also seemed heavier for that length, despite being made of wood. He held it between him and Faynel, and every motion he made seemed to drag through the air. He didn¡¯t relish the delay.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    After what seemed like an eternity, but was less time for either of them to make much more than a full circle, Faynel stepped forward with a testing slash. Mason parried it, but barely. Her speed was enough to catch him off guard even in this small arena.


    They both found themselves falling naturally into the pattern of the footwork they were trained in. As always, Faynel moved more gracefully through the motions, but Mason¡¯s defenses were still fortified by the familiarity in the step. Faynel struck out again, twice this time, and Mason ducked to the side and knocked her blade away. There was a muttering in the crowd.


    Mason didn¡¯t watch Faynel¡¯s face, so he missed the sharp glances she was throwing his way. She hadn¡¯t honestly thought he¡¯d be able to handle her first two attacks at all. To him, this fight was about proving his worthiness, but to her, it was about reasserting her status in New Marra.


    There was still too much talk that she was only on the Roving Band because her mother had called in a favor, and that Torysen¡¯s being assigned to such a safe and boring area was an extension of that. This crowd wasn¡¯t large, but if she proved herself here, she knew they would be the ones to talk about her victory.


    The next strike was Mason¡¯s, and Faynel batted his sword back casually then stepped forward with a jab. Mason dodged, but suspected he was being toyed with. He moved forward himself, striking twice, and before he knew what had happened, there was a sharp pain in his side.


    Torysen called out that the point was to Faynel, and for them to reset.


    They began the next bout circling the other way, but wasted much less time getting to the fight of it. As the crowd kept chatting away, they began exchanging blows. Both of them were sloppy, even if Faynel was the more graceful of the two, and Mason picked up on a fairly valuable secret: Faynel may be fast, but she was not exceptionally skilled with her sword.


    Still though, he wouldn¡¯t have wanted to face her where she could run and hide. Even face to face, she moved quietly, and with her speed she could likely do some serious harm undetected.


    The speed at which they traded blows wore Mason down. He was still shaky from the previous night, but Faynel¡¯s determination to take the match seriously reminded him that he couldn¡¯t rest on any excuse to not give the fight his all. He slashed heavily at her chest and she knocked his blade aside, and when she dived to the side to strike him down low he managed to slip out of her way. Worried that he was nearing the edge of the arena, he doubled down and began to put all his force into his attacks, caring little for accuracy, strategy, or footwork.


    The frenzy paid off as he pushed her backwards but as she rushed to keep up her defense, Mason saw a devious grin form on her face. He was already mid-swing when he sensed something was off, and she spun around him and charged into his shoulder, sending him stumbling out of the ring.


    The crowd was practically buzzing at this point, and Mason tried to gauge their thoughts as Torysen declared Faynel the winner of the bout.


    The fight hadn¡¯t been particularly impressive- neither of them were truly talented swordsmen, and Faynel was clearly faster and more experienced. And although that had sort of been the point of the demonstration, Mason looked back at Faynel and felt like there was more to be said between him and Faynel on the battlefield.


    He crossed over to her silently and put out his hand. They shook, and Mason stepped closer so that they couldn¡¯t be overheard, ¡°You bested me fairly, but don¡¯t you think we should put on one more show?¡±


    Faynel looked at him with another new expression- something akin to hunger, or passion. She turned to Torysen and said just loud enough for the captain to hear, ¡°One more round with everyone here. No ring size.¡±


    Torysen looked between the two of them, and her lips traced the faint line of a smile, ¡°As you wish.¡±


    She turned and announced another round, but Mason regarded the crowd which hadn¡¯t moved at all and felt like his decision was merely predictable. Or maybe the audience was just hoping to see blood.


    When Faynel and Mason squared off this time, they were double the distance from one another as they had been in their previous fights. The lack of an arena meant that Mason couldn¡¯t hope to bully her out of the ring, and he had to contend with her speed now too, but he had been itching for a real fight since their footwork dance the day before.


    He shook himself to try and rub out the fatigue and disorientation he was still experiencing, then found his stance.


    Faynel was on him in seconds, having sprinted across the gap almost as quickly as Torysen could move. The familiarity of it had put Mason on edge though. He stepped aside and swatted at Fay, but she planted her feet and pivoted, catching the blow with her own sword and pressing into it to push him back.


    Mason¡¯s guard broke momentarily as he tried to find his feet, and he just barely had his sword back up in time to block her next strike. He tried to counter her but their swords met again in midair, and the clacking strike of the wood rang in his ears. He took a deep breath as he dove back and felt dust in his nose, so he forced air out to clear his passage and narrowed his eyes.


    A cloud of dust might make for some good ambience. He ran around to her side while she eyed him, and did his best to kick up dust as he went. She was ready with an attack well before he got near her so he jumped to the side to make some distance. She rushed after him and he was forced to block, barely planting his feet in time.


    The audience was growing louder, suddenly more impressed by the swift movements of the two. Sure, their strikes were sloppy and neither really had much of a technique, but when they moved around quickly they both looked alive.


    And felt it, too. There was a certain strength to Mason¡¯s legs as he planted and lunged. He could feel the mana inside of him spreading to his limbs, and that energy invigorated his muscles. He had barely begun to sweat from the first two rounds, but as they crossed blades, retreated, charged, ducked, dodged and charged again, he felt his body grow warm and his sweat mixing with the dust in the air.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± Faynel shouted as she swept her blade at his legs. The distraction failed though, Mason stepped back from the attack easily, and responded with a thrust.


    ¡°Cheap tricks, huh? I guess I¡¯m finally making you sweat!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m barely getting warmed up!¡±


    Was that a cliche? Mason didn¡¯t have time to consider it. Calling her out on her tricks seemed to only invigorate the very fast fighter. She stabbed in rapid succession, almost using her sword as a rapier. Mason couldn¡¯t turn the attack- he wasn¡¯t even sure where he¡¯d put his sword if he tried. So he just kept trying to move back, but as her attacks kept coming, he lost his footing.


    He slipped in the dust, and sprawled back on his butt. Faynel didn¡¯t hesitate- she leapt on top of him and put her sword to his neck, and he gulped as he looked at her. Violet hair stuck to the sweat on her face from where it had come loose from her hair tie, and she gazed into his face with a killer focus that made him wonder if she remembered they were really sparring.


    Her knee between his legs and one hand on his chest, he wasn¡¯t certain that the vulnerability he felt was because of her sword, or something¡­ else.

 ~ Forty-Four -New Marra (Ten)

    As Torysen wrapped up the theatrics of the fight for the audience, Leornal dragged Mason away. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be talking to people about the fight,¡± was all the explanation he gave. Mason didn¡¯t particularly care for chit-chatting with strangers, and his mind was wrapped up in the fight, so he acceded without much complaint.


    Leornal dragged him into a small building without lighting, so Mason had to activate his mana sight and cast it about to see. He didn¡¯t look directly at Leornal though- he was still too bright.


    ¡°That was a good fight,¡± Leornal admitted, glancing out through the door to make sure the crowd was dispersing.


    Mason was shocked by the compliment, ¡°Really? You thought so?¡±


    Leornal grunted, ¡°The first two were boring as hell, but you and Faynel make very theatric fighters when you¡¯re given space to move. The half of the audience that don¡¯t know one end of the sword from the other will likely spread very impressed tales. The other half will have written you off as an amateur.¡±


    ¡°Well, I mean, considering I am an amateur, I guess I can¡¯t complain, right? Do you think Torysen was pleased?¡±


    ¡°I was,¡± Torysen said as she entered the room with a loud thud against the wooden door. Mason couldn¡¯t look at her either. ¡°You never fought half that well against me, but I suppose I had you bloodied and bruised before you got a chance most times.¡±


    ¡°I, well, yeah. Thanks, Torysen. I¡¯ve been trying to get better. That¡¯s why I wanted to join your band.¡±


    Torysen took a deep breath, but she was relaxed for the moment, even though Mason couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°I have to admit, no matter how much abuse you take, you don¡¯t seem easy to shake. Leornal told me about your night last night and I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be able to stand up for the second round.¡±


    Mason shot a glance at Leornal, and cringed when he remembered that he was a glowing bulb of painfully bright light at the moment. ¡°Yeah, that was a mistake.¡±


    ¡°And yet you fought for an extra round,¡± Torysen assessed. Then she said in a strange, sad voice, ¡°You remind me of him.¡±


    ¡°Of who?¡± Mason asked too quickly. ¡°Right. Oh. Um.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t dig yourself a grave yet, Mason,¡± Leornal chimed in unhelpfully.


    ¡°I won¡¯t pretend to know anything about him so far, but I,¡± Mason hesitated and looked at his feet, ¡°I would be glad to live in a way that makes it easier for you to forgive me.¡±


    The room was silent, which in the darkness felt uncomfortable to Mason. He wished his mana sight was better so he knew what expressions were on Leornal and Torysen¡¯s faces.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Then the door burst open once more and Mason was blinded yet again as he turned to see Faynel enter excitedly. ¡°That was great, Mason!¡±


    Torysen quietly slipped from the room, and Leornal also headed to the door. Mason switched off mana sight so he could look at Faynel directly in the dim room, ¡°You fought really well, Faynel. You definitely deserved that victory. Your intensity during a fight is really a force to be reckoned with.¡±


    ¡°You flatter me. But I was thinking¡­ the evening is still young. Would you like another round?¡±


    Another round turned into several, and Leornal stuck around for the duration. Though he tried to play it off as if he were just making sure they didn¡¯t harm one another, their eagerness to spar and the energy they put out despite Mason¡¯s supposed fatigue was infectious. In no time Leornal was offering up suggestions for techniques and correcting shoddy footwork.


    Soon after that, he was taking turns.


    All said, Mason and Faynel fought each other four more times, and Leornal fought Mason once, and Faynel twice. By the time he fought Mason though, the boy¡¯s limbs were trembling and his breath was ragged.


    Leornal easily trounced him with a precision based offensive that kept Mason from ever deflecting a strike cleanly. His message was clear: if Mason insisted on fighting in his weakened state, he was going to be defeated summarily. Mason didn¡¯t seem to mind though. Despite the aches and bruises that were forming a warm layer around his body, he smiled through every strike and every step.


    He hadn¡¯t been like this in Artorias¡¯s city. He had been grim. Focused and driven, of course, but not exhilarated like he seemed now. Even when he was knocked on his ass and injured, he looked like he would gladly keep swinging his sword from the ground if the rules of the fight permitted it.


    The old archer wanted to dismiss it as a trait of his youth, or perhaps a facet of his obvious crush on Faynel, but Mason¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t wander to the parts of the attractive girl that he would have expected. No, the human seemed focused on seeking out weak points, preparing counters. There was something there, some innate joy of fighting which Leornal really had only witnessed before in a few people.


    Notably, Faynel had that joy too, just more specifically toward grace and maneuverability. She had been a runner and a dancer on Marra. The former the girl was quite open about, and the latter had been a slip from her mother. It was no wonder she mastered the footwork so quickly, and put up such an excellent fight even with her relatively low strength.


    Leornal watched the two in their final match, and caught himself smiling at their enthusiasm. Mason hadn¡¯t won once, and his movements were so weak and slow at this point that even though Faynel was similarly worn out, she could probably have slipped behind him and crushed him in an instant. But there he was, smiling.


    This human was going to make a strange new addition to the band.


    <hr>


    Mason groaned when he heard knocking. There was no such thing as sleep anymore. He was sore with his eyes open. Sore with his eyes closed. Sore when he laid down. Sore when he stood up. Sore as he turned the doorknob and a familiar face made him smile reflexively. Sore when he smiled, too, apparently.


    ¡°Tea?¡± Faynel asked, walking past the zombie-like figure whose bruised skin was beginning to make him resemble a Darkest Night more and more each day.


    He just groaned, and she smiled quietly to herself as she set down a package of powder and began rummaging through his shelves to make tea. His eyes followed her as she moved, but he just leaned against the door, too tired to move.


    ¡°This is like your trademark or something, huh?¡± she asked as she started the fire in the corner of the room.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°This whole, working yourself to the point of near-death thing. Every time Torysen wraps up the training for the day, you challenge me to spar. I beat you silly for a few hours, and then you come home and run yourself ragged trying to train up your runecraft,¡± she talked while moving around the room, not even bothering to look at him to confirm he was listening. ¡°I told you before, I am not an amateur, I can see when someone is refining their mana.¡±


    Mason grumbled and collapsed backwards on the couch. He could sleep in the bed in the other room, but it needed new bedding. Plus, he still couldn¡¯t sleep if he was trying. Much easier to work himself into exhaustion and collapse right there.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one that told me all about how you learned to use mana in the first place. Frankly, I¡¯d say you were an idiot if you hadn¡¯t managed to get results.¡±


    He would probably have something to say to that, but moving hurt, and lying perfectly still hurt marginally less.


    ¡°What are you hoping to accomplish by destroying yourself like this?¡± She stood over him and he could see the focused look in her eyes. Always with that same look, as if everything mattered and everything was important.


    He groaned, and she reached down and slapped one of his bruises. Cringing, he responded, ¡°I¡¯ve gotta get caught up.¡±


    She rolled her eyes, ¡°Give it a couple months, then.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a whole lifetime of working with runes and a year¡¯s worth of practice fighting in the The Trials,¡± Mason protested. ¡°Torysen said I had to earn my place on the band, so I¡¯m doing that.¡±


    ¡°So this is for Torysen, huh?¡± she asked doubtfully as she went to pour the hot water out of the pot on the fire.


    Mason grumbled, ¡°You know it¡¯s more than that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Faynel admitted with sudden cheer. ¡°Because I¡¯ve fought to get strong too. New Marra went through some shit when we arrived in The Trials. We didn¡¯t get several months of practice with experienced fighters before we were under attack. So relax. How¡¯s your status?¡±


    Mason pulled his status screen up even though he¡¯d looked at it often enough to almost know it by heart at this point.


    Demon of the Darkest Night:


    Amateur Magical Slayer


    Level 4 (38 FP)


    Health: 84/84 (2.7/hr)


    Mana: 44/44 (3.3/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 44/44


    Stamina: 95/95 (4.7/min)


    Strength:  6 (0)


    Agility:  7 (0)


    Intelligence:  9 (+1)


    Willpower:  9 (+2)


    Vitality:  6 (0)


    Endurance:  8 (+1)


    Creativity:  7 (+1)


    Active Skills: Focus (21), Mana Vampirism (10), Analyze (14), Life Drain (6), Recovery (19)


    Passive Skills: Equip (8), Staff Specialization (21), Blade Specialization (21), Footwork (20)


    Mana Arts: Mana Sight (21), Mana Manipulation (23), Mana Tolerance (30), Mana-Blade (7), Shadow Stalk (10), Glamour (14), Stamina Drain (5), Runecraft (8)


    Spells: Indiscriminate Force (4)


    Soul Arts: Soul Steal, Walker


    There had been obvious improvements. But he¡¯d seen similar improvements after a few close encounters, and nothing had crested the proficiency point even after how hard he had pushed himself the past few days. He pointed out the changes to Faynel and she congratulated him excitedly, but he just didn¡¯t feel that impressed with himself.


    None of his magic based skills were budging at all. He was forbidden from using spells while drilling and sparring, so that meant he could only practice when he got home in the evenings. Runecraft had budged a little, but hardly enough to matter, especially now that he realized that skill levels meant nothing unless they had crossed one of their thresholds.


    And another issue was his footwork challenge. Even though that was what he drilled more often than not, the skill required a ridiculous amount of precision and practice to improve at all. But worse, the description for his challenge wasn¡¯t just to improve his footwork, but to design his own steps, and he hadn¡¯t the faintest idea where to begin with an endeavour like that.


    Sore as he was, thinking about all of this just made him feel like he should get back to work. He moved to stand up but Faynel¡¯s watchful eye knew exactly what he meant to do. She pushed him on the chest and knocked him right back down. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Fay, don¡¯t be ridiculous. I won¡¯t do anything too difficult. I¡¯m just going to go on a jog and then we can have breakfast before today¡¯s drills.¡±


    ¡°And waste perfectly good tea?¡± Faynel asked as she held his mug above him.


    Fearing that she¡¯d pour it on him if he challenged her, he sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll cool down once I start winning at least a fight or two a day. I haven¡¯t been able to beat anyone in the band yet. I¡¯m pretty sure Clearsay could take me in a fight with a ladle.¡±


    ¡°No training today. You and I have the day off, captain¡¯s orders. So I¡¯m going to help you apply a salve to your wounds and then we¡¯re going to have a relaxing day together.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a date, huh?¡± he asked as he slowly sat up.


    ¡°Push your luck and I¡¯ll have Leornal come with us. Now drink your tea and shut up for a minute.¡±


    Mason noticed that she didn¡¯t throw anything at him for that, so he really couldn¡¯t complain.


    They drank their tea in silence. Faynel believed in thinking, especially when she was drinking tea, and that meant that sometimes she just wanted to stare into her mug and say absolutely nothing. It didn¡¯t bother Mason, but it did intrigue him. As much time as they had spent together lately, he had no idea what she¡¯d think about.


    Would she be walking herself through combat maneuvers in her mind? Remembering life on Marra? He¡¯d almost asked her a dozen times, but the time they spent silently together was the only time she didn¡¯t look ready to shoot laser beams from her eyes, so he respected the simplicity of the moment. Without any doubt, the woman deserved her relaxation.


    Finally, the long silence was over when Faynel began to sip out the dregs of her overturned tea mug. Mason asked, ¡°You said something about a salve?¡±


    Faynel blushed immediately, but he couldn¡¯t understand why. She covered it up by explaining, ¡°You never really talked terms with Torysen or the council, but working for a Roving Band does come with pay of sorts. That includes drills and training. But since you¡¯re getting free room and board at the moment, most of that¡¯s tied up.¡±


    Mason waited for her to get to the point. It wasn¡¯t really like her to meander. ¡°So Leornal suggested that we cover the rest of your first payment by getting you a healing salve. Potions are great for bleeding wounds and such, but if you¡¯re going to try and recover fully from training injuries and exertion, you need something a little more subtle.¡±


    ¡°Okay, free healing salve. That¡¯s the package on the counter?¡± Mason asked, still unsure why she was blushing.


    ¡°Yeah, well with your level of injuries Leornal kindly reminded me that you would likely need help applying it to your entire body.¡± The blush deepened even as she began speaking faster. ¡°Not that I obviously need to put it on your entire body. You can keep your pants on. I mean you¡¯ll have to roll up the legs but¡­¡±


    Mason was blushing too now as he realized where she was going with this. ¡°Oh, god, okay. Salves are applied to skin.¡± Pointing to his bare chest he added, ¡°You¡¯ve seen me shirtless, Fay. And I mean, you¡¯re not exactly gentle but you¡¯ve hit just about every inch of my body by now. I think we can survive an awkward massage, right?¡±


    She wasn¡¯t even looking directly at him. Mason had the distinct feeling that Leornal had done more than just suggest this course of action. Had he forced her hand somehow?


    ¡°Look, Fay, if you¡¯re too embarrassed, I can manage the salve on my own. I appreciate that you¡¯re willing, but¡­¡± he chuckled.


    Suddenly though, Fay¡¯s eyes were right on his with their full intensity restored. ¡°I¡¯m not too embarrassed to do anything. Stand up.¡±


    He gulped. What was with her today?


    In a large bowl, Faynel mixed the powder with the rest of the warm water from the tea as Mason stood and rolled up the legs of his pants. His bruises were fairly serious at this point. He was a mottled patchwork of blues, purples, yellows, and greens from having been bruised and re-bruised without any time to heal. The salve was necessary. Faynel helping apply it seemed¡­ forced.


    But having been challenged, she took it seriously. She scooped a large glob of the warm paste from the bowl and began spreading it along his skin. It was the texture and thickness of mixed plaster, but the warmth from it soaked into his muscles and almost seemed to numb them a little. He wondered what the concoction was. Dried, powdered herbs of course, but was it mana-infused like a healing potion?


    He used his improving mana sight to tell that it was. Then he realized he was being an idiot.


    There was an attractive woman rubbing him down and he was wondering about the medicinal qualities of the salve. Granted, she was being fairly aggressive about it, and that took away a good measure of the intimate nature, but still.


    What did Leornal have on her anyways? And was he doing this to cause trouble or because he actually was hoping to cause something between them? Maybe Leornal had actually thought making sure Mason¡¯s body wasn¡¯t worn to death was important. That had to be it. Fay was just sent to help because she was responsible for most of the injuries.


    Mason watched her closely as she knelt in front of him and rubbed the salve onto his legs. He was honestly tired just standing there, but he¡¯d stay standing for as long as Faynel kept doing what she was doing. He started to feel guilty for some of the other thoughts he was having.


    But what really nagged at him was a sense of distrust. Something was going on here that he couldn¡¯t quite identify. Despite the intimate motions, Faynel¡¯s expression was determined and fixed in such a way that it began to feel like she was being forced to do this against her will. He wanted to ask her what it was, but¡­ he had to trust her. There was no way she¡¯d betray him.

 ~ Forty-Five - New Marra (Eleven)

    ¡°There¡¯s one more step,¡± Faynel said nervously, her glance shifting around the room everywhere but at Mason.


    Her nervousness was infectious, and since she had rubbed the salve into his legs, face, neck, torso, and arms, Mason could only imagine where this was about to go next. He gulped, and Faynel just seemed to grow more uncomfortable when he didn¡¯t say anything. He¡¯d offer to do it for her again, but she had shot him down when he had suggested that earlier so¡­


    ¡°I have to connect to your mana flow with my own,¡± she finally blurted out before looking down.


    ¡°What?¡± Mason asked, suddenly unsure of what was happening.


    She took a deep breath and looked to the side before explaining, ¡°Remember when I adjusted your glamour? It¡¯s like that but a little more¡­ invasive. My mana will enter your body and take control of your own mana. It¡¯s the only way to properly activate the salve since you¡¯re not very skilled at mana manipulation yourself.¡±


    Mason could feel the tension rolling off of her, could see it in the way she held close to herself, and her eyes shifted about as she shuffled in place. ¡°Faynel I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you nervous before. Is there something I¡¯m missing?¡±


    Her eyes met his, and a glimmer of her usual focus returned, ¡°To touch someone¡¯s mana is very personal.¡±


    He thought he understood what she was getting at, but curiosity demanded clarity. ¡°I have two people¡¯s souls inside of me, and some old guy in a library underground literally thrust me into my own tree of memory. I¡¯m not really sure what boundaries I really have left.¡±


    Now Faynel was beginning to go from uncomfortable to frustrated, ¡°Mana binding like this is¡­ Well, the only people who have ever bound with me were my parents while I was an infant. Occasionally it is required for medical issues when ordinary spells are not enough, but healers don¡¯t have the same reservations about that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve never¡­?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she squeezed her eyes closed after she realized she shouted.


    ¡°I mean, my parents didn¡¯t even have mana? So¡­ this will be my first time too?¡± Mason pointed out.


    ¡°This is for medical purposes only,¡± she insisted as her eyes traced his body.


    ¡°I get that. But¡­ I¡¯m only a little sore and worn out. Is it really necessary to push yourself like this for me?¡±


    ¡°It is necessary,¡± she nodded.


    It didn¡¯t mean quite the same thing to Mason as it did to her, so he figured if she was so determined, it only made sense for him to agree. After all, he had pretty good reason to trust her at this point. She was the only person he had met in this world that didn¡¯t seem to half-despise him. ¡°Okay, then let¡¯s do this.¡±


    Her head jerked down in a tight nod again, and then she stepped forward. Even without consciously using mana sight, he could see the glimmer of energy on her palms. She reached toward his hands and before they connected he felt a spark as his mana and hers connected.


    Energy rushed into him then as the warm salve all over his body seemed to activate. It heated up, but not uncomfortably, and seemed to just match the warm energy that was rushing through his body from hers. No, that wasn¡¯t quite right. The mana was running between them, and he could feel her. There was a nervousness there, but also an excitement. He felt part of him stiffen, and since he was only wearing cloth undergarments he was immediately embarrassed, because he knew she could feel what he was feeling.


    The intimacy there was unlike anything he had experienced before. This wasn¡¯t sex- this wasn¡¯t even a Marran¡¯s version of sex. It was pure intimacy, a rushed familiarity like that which came from months of sharing company. Mason understood why she had been hesitant to share this with him, but even with his growing awareness of her body and her feelings, he couldn¡¯t quite understand why she was doing this. It seemed unnecessary, especially in the wake of the fear and uncertainty that was pouring from her mind and into his.


    Minutes passed as they contemplated one another through their shared mana, and then finally they broke apart. The salve continued to warm, and tingled and stung in places where it was fully activated. Mason felt the shape of the force rune inside of him, and the confusing form of his soul as well. The mana swirled about him, and then it seemed to pull from his core to his edges, receding like a tide into the salve on his skin.


    ¡°The mana is being used to heal your wounds now. Your muscles will be strengthened as if you had spent days recovering. But there¡¯s more,¡± she seemed hesitant again, and Mason really wasn¡¯t sure what to think of this side of her. ¡°You will be more like a Marran from today. I could feel it. Mowry laid the path in your soul, but this ritual took another step. The mana you generate will infuse itself into your body and rebuild you.¡±


    She still wasn¡¯t looking him in the eye. If she had said this with her normal, casual tone, Mason might have just accepted it. But she seemed guilty. And he recognized that. The fear and hesitation he had seen in her body movements and felt in their connection. She was guilty of something. ¡°What? What did you just do to me? You didn¡¯t warn me that this would change me like that.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡­¡± she started. ¡°It was necessary. To strengthen you. We knew for sure after the mana liquor. Your body couldn¡¯t handle the effects of spell casting for long, and we wanted to prevent you from experiencing the real effects.¡±


    His face contorted in an emotion he wasn¡¯t sure how to describe. ¡°What the hell, Faynel? You could have just explained that to me. I probably would have agreed anyways! You¡¯re just going to use sex magic to fuck with my body?¡±


    At first she shrunk as his voice rose, but something flipped inside of her and reminded her what kind of person she was. She stepped forward, ¡°That was not sex magic, and I did not have the luxury of running it by you. You could not see what was beginning to happen to you!¡±


    ¡°Oh, so you were concerned for me, then?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    Mason just stared at her. He was flattered by that, but still rather pissed. ¡°Well, fuck!¡±


    Her face twitched at the exclamation. He looked angry, but that hadn¡¯t been much of a retort. They stared for a moment longer, but a thin, hesitant smile broke on her face and he just stormed away into the other room.


    A minute later, Mason came back out fully dressed. ¡°That was a fucking awful thing you did, Faynel.¡±


    ¡°I did what I had to.¡±


    ¡°You will not trick me like that again.¡± The anger in his voice was waning. Mason clung to his anger but it slipped away from him like a tattered cloth. Every moment he spent looking at her reminded him of what he¡¯d experienced in that brief connection. He felt too sympathetic.


    ¡°I will do what I have to.¡± Her focused and unreadable expression was back. No longer was she the nervous and hesitant girl she had been minutes before. Mason liked this side of her, but that made it even harder to be mad.


    ¡°You¡¯re planning another trick already.¡± It wasn¡¯t a statement.


    ¡°There was more to the salve than I¡¯ve told you,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± he knocked one of the mugs of tea to the ground and watched it clatter unbroken. ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°So when you said we¡­?¡± Mason asked as they walked next to each other throughout the town.


    ¡°My grandmother, yes.¡±


    Mason put a hand to his face and sighed. This was difficult, to say the least. As they walked, their strides were unusually in sync. They didn¡¯t normally walk this closely to one another, either. But Faynel had explained that their were side-effects to the mana mingling. It made people trust each other.


    She had also explained that the reason she had been so insistent about the salve and the mana mingling wasn¡¯t because of Leornal at all. It was because of her grandmother. The oldest woman in the city, and apparently, the most powerful, too. Faynel held back most details beyond that, but had made it clear that Mason¡¯s continued presence in the city was because she allowed it. And that had come with certain stipulations.


    If Mason had been told about this plot- that the mana liquor and the salve had both been prescribed tricks that Faynel had only been made to enact- without having experienced that unique bond with the dark-skinned girl, he probably wouldn¡¯t have trusted another word she said.


    But he had experienced that bond. He hadn¡¯t read her mind or anything like that, but the mana connection made him feel close to her, and gave him a certain insight into her feelings at that time. It made him trust her.


    Which might have been part of the plan all along, he knew. And it upset him. It did. But he just couldn¡¯t bring himself to distrust Faynel, no matter how hard he tried.


    So he followed after her. He was confused, and irritated, but ultimately curious and comfortable in her presence. He chalked it up to women and their tricks.


    And besides, there was a burning question in his mind that he knew would serve as some measure of revenge. ¡°Was that mana mingling totally unpleasant to you?¡±


    She flushed a deep violet, and Mason noticed something more to that color as he moved in front of her and looked intently in her face. His mana sight was better than it had been even just an hour or two ago, and suddenly he didn¡¯t think her skin was nearly as dark a color as before. He saw it now, a swirl of purples and blues. There were patterns there, rich and tightly woven, and he could see why one might think they had obsidian black skin, but that wasn¡¯t right at all. And her skin shimmered, just slightly, with the aura of mana that flowed from her.


    She really was made entirely of mana. He knew that now- knew it even better than he had when he was connected to her.


    But he was woken up from his reverie by a sharp stinging pain on his face. What was¡­ she had slapped him!


    ¡°What the fuck, Faynel?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention the mingling again!¡± She glared daggers at Mason, but he just smiled. Her grandmother might have forced her hand somehow to perform that ritual, but that didn¡¯t mean she had done it unwillingly.


    ¡°Have you been training with me this week for that?¡± he asked her quietly, standing mere inches from her.


    ¡°Mason, please,¡± she said, shaking her head.


    ¡°Thank you for making me strong, Faynel,¡± he replied with a sad smile, then gestured for her to lead on.


    Some time later they had moved further into the city than Mason had yet explored. The buildings here were no less ugly in their designs, but at least with the improvements to his mana sight, he could begin to see that the tar on the buildings was very similar to the Marran¡¯s skin in that it hid its true appearance from all but mana sight.


    There were steps carved into the ground as the city fell into a bowl. They weren¡¯t steep- a natural slope would have sufficed- but they made it clear that this area had been prepared like this. At the center of the lowered area was a shockingly impressive structure. It may have been small compared to Earth standards, but for the area it was large.


    He could tell at a glance that it was two stories, and it was easily wider and longer than the council chambers, which meant it qualified as a mansion, though Mason felt inclined to consider it a temple.


    Faynel grew morose as they got closer, and Mason¡¯s insight into her feelings led him to assume that she was feeling the guilt of what she had forced her new friend into against his will. He was still a little frustrated that she didn¡¯t give him a chance to choose his fate in the matter, but it seemed pointless to be stubborn about that.


    They were offering him power. He hadn¡¯t argued with the staff, or the tree of memory, either.


    The air rippled as he got closer, and waves of energy made his hair stand on end. The Darkest Night seemed to insist that they were low on mana but the air here was thick with it. For the first time, he was nervous to meet Faynel¡¯s grandmother.

 ~ Forty-Six - New Marra (Twelve)

    If the mana had been dense outside the temple, inside it was suffocating. Mason felt dizzy as he walked through the entryway and past surprisingly ornate curtains into a room even more crowded with mana, and equally filled with stuff. Mason took deep breaths to quench the unease he felt at being in such a mana-dense area, and strongly suspected that his pre-Trials self would have died or fainted almost immediately in the face of it.


    Worse, still, was that though the room he was led into was large, it was packed with low tables scattered with herbs and powders, blankets and cushions of high quality, and material devices that he couldn¡¯t even begin to guess the function of. If he had to define the room, it would be somewhere between a laboratory and a pleasure palace, but the busyness of it made his already light-head swim.


    Why was it so damned warm and humid in there? Mason cast a look at Faynel to make sure he wasn¡¯t the only one overwhelmed, but she was standing perfectly at attention staring at the middle of the room.


    Mason followed her glance and couldn¡¯t quite figure out what she was looking at. Then he realized- one of the piles of cushions harbored a person. She was soft and round and absolutely ancient looking, but familiar sharp eyes darted back and forth in her face, and Mason knew instantly where Faynel got her ferocity.


    Meeting her stare was like looking into the eyes of a monster. And people called his scrawny self a Demon?


    And somehow once he was looking at her, he began to realize that the energy in the room- those thick waves of mana and¡­ something else- weren¡¯t a result of the location. They came from her. Even without mana sight, Mason knew she was a lighthouse to the other Marran¡¯s LED bulbs.


    He didn¡¯t even have a chance to use Focus to steady himself. Mason¡¯s knees went weak and he almost collapsed where he stood, but with the last bit of sense he had he caught himself and managed to pull himself onto a cushion.


    A laugh somehow both tinkling in its mirth and deep in its volume resounded from the old woman as she watched. ¡°Yes, I am forever thankful for this well-cushioned room for just that reason. A few centuries of building power and people can¡¯t even stand to be in your presence.¡±


    The old woman¡¯s eyes met Faynel¡¯s, and the younger woman smiled meekly at the joke.


    ¡°Yes, yes, it was not one of my finer jokes. Please dear, sit. Comfort your human. And tell me- did you disobey me? I told you that only with a regular dosage of the tea and your full activation of the salve would he be able to tolerate my aura. But, no. You clearly mingled, I can see the traces of your energy in his own. Did you simply grow distracted? I understand, for someone so pink he is quite handsome.¡± The old woman rambled from her throne of cushions, and though her voice was prominent, she hardly moved.


    ¡°Grandmother, please,¡± Faynel said, exasperation dripping from her voice. ¡°Didn¡¯t we talk about respect?¡±


    ¡°Pah!¡± the old woman shouted, and though she still didn¡¯t seem to move, the room reverberated with its force, sending a wave of nausea through Mason as he tried to steady himself. ¡°Your generation is so prudish. I¡¯ve performed the mana binding ritual with hundreds of people. I don¡¯t know why you people treat it like mating.¡±


    ¡°Because I saw him, Grandmother! I could feel his own sense of self. How do you share that so casually?¡±


    The wave of force grew more intense, and Mason was sure he was going to puke, or pass out.


    ¡°Who said anything about casual? You told me you saw great potential in this human in both principle and power. Were you casual with your assessment?¡±


    Fay looked down, ¡°No, Grandmother.¡±


    ¡°Did you administer the treatment as I specified? He looks as if he¡¯s going to die.¡±


    If the old woman sounded like she didn¡¯t care, Faynel expressed enough concern for the both of them as her face contorted in worry. ¡°Pull in your aura, Grandmother! I did as you asked, but this is too much even still. He¡¯ll need more time.¡±


    ¡°No, wait!¡± Mason coughed, pushing himself up into a sitting position. ¡°Give me a minute. I¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure of that. If he were honest, he felt terrible. But he had felt terrible plenty of times before from mana sickness, and he walked away each time. And he could tell by the carelessness in the old woman¡¯s voice, by the sheer power that was pouring out of her, that she was not the type of person he should be expecting favors from. She needed to be impressed.


    So he forced himself to a sitting position, and dug at the small trickle of mana inside of him that had begun to regenerate since the salve depleted his stores. How had Faynel activated it? She had moved the mana through it like¡­


    Suddenly he felt the thin, oily residue of the salve on his skin begin to warm. He could feel the mana that had bound to it, and the way that it was feeding into his skin, changing his cells. But he couldn¡¯t produce enough mana to activate it enough to ward off this wave of force.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    But why produce mana when there was so much around him? He tried to picture it flowing into his pores, tried to imagine himself grabbing it with his own mana. Neither worked. So instead, he spread his own mana thinly across his entire body, and tried to activate the salve lightly, using it¡¯s effects to pull the mana toward his body.


    He grew warmer, and felt electric. As the salve activated, it began to shield him from the excess energy in the air, forming a barrier that controlled the flow, absorbing what it needed and rejecting the rest.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m okay,¡± Mason said weakly, looking up at the bundle of blankets and pillows. ¡°I appreciate you taking time to see me. I know Faynel has put a lot of work into preparing me for this.¡±


    For several long moments the old woman looked like she was looking right into Mason. ¡°I see, Faynel. You weren¡¯t entirely wrong about him. Of course, I heard you speak before the council, too. That sort of fiery spirit has become rare among our people. Even here, where fire is the only thing that can warm the dark night.¡±


    Faynel was glancing worriedly between the two. The worst was over, possibly. But her grandmother was known for her power, not her kindness. Insisting that Mason be accepted into the Roving Band, asking Faynel to personally prepare him to present himself before her- these reflected a degree of personal interest that her grandma hadn¡¯t shown anyone save herself in as long as she knew.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been told your name is Mason, yes? But clearly you¡¯re not of our family names. Let us be quick to the point. What do you know of magic?¡±


    Mason felt a sharp twinge in his chest as the old woman talked to him. He knew intrinsically that she was probing him. He wondered if she could see deep enough to feel Mowrytal and Geralt within him.


    ¡°Yes, my full name is Mason Nevels. I share the last name with my parents, but the first was assigned to me.¡±


    ¡°But The Trials call you differently.¡±


    ¡°That- yes.¡± Mason took a deep breath, both to allow himself time to figure out how to answer, and to resist another wave of weakness. Even with the salve warming him and protecting him, he felt weak in her presence. ¡°When I first took Mowrytal¡¯s soul from his bones, I was asked whether or not I would reject or accept the changes. I wanted to move forward, to grow stronger, so I accepted them.¡±


    ¡°Are you aware it calls you a Darkest Night? This is the same name the Corrosi have given us. Are you not proud of being human?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not it,¡± Mason said sharply. He saw Faynel wince at the obstinance in his tone. ¡°But I felt different. I saw mana in me then, and I think Mowry had his own part to play. He said he shaped my soul.¡±


    ¡°That he did. And he taught you a rune. The Force rune. I repeat my earlier question. What do you know of magic?¡±


    Mason looked at Faynel- she had explained most of it to him. ¡°There are sigils, embellishments, and runes. Sigils are flat carvings, and when you fill them with mana to form embellishments, you can move the two through the air forming¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop, I don¡¯t want to hear that nonsense. Those were techniques that, though effective, were poorly thought out. No better than these so called spell runes. What use is there to learning an entire rune for a single spell? That¡¯s not how nature taught us and that¡¯s not how I taught you, Faynel.¡± The old woman sounded angry, and her voice curled around the word Faynel as if she were grossly disappointed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Grandmother. I was merely trying to explain to him how enchantments and spells were connected.¡±


    The old woman sighed loudly, ¡°Yes, and you were raised on that foolishness. If I hadn¡¯t returned from the Nior Mountains when I did you would likely be a lost cause of a Marran too.¡± She addressed Mason then, ¡°Tell me. If you saw a centuries old woman who could pour a lake like a glass of water, wouldn¡¯t you assume her magic was at least a little better than a bunch of short-lived spell casters that have to wave their hands about just to start a small fire?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t answer her,¡± Faynel whispered quickly to Mason.


    ¡°Of course he shouldn¡¯t answer me! it¡¯s obvious! Spell runes,¡± her voice dripped with disdain for the term, ¡°They¡¯re the safe way out. Sure, it may sound grizzly to carve a sigil into your body every time you wanted to cast a spell, and it was, I won¡¯t deny that, but it¡¯s still a purely boring way to waste good magic.


    ¡°Let me explain to you, so that you don¡¯t fall into the trap so many of these fools have. A spell rune only activates when it is properly empowered. It¡¯s a fully formed, cohesive way to trigger one specific effect and no other. It just takes ten times as long to produce a fraction of the effect of real magic.


    ¡°It also makes for an extremely unskilled, lazy caster. You lose the ability to work with real magic as soon as you begin binding all of your mana into runes. It¡¯s like the guillotine. You know what a guillotine is, right? Sure, it does a great job of removing a head, but you have to do all that maneuvering to get the head in just the right place before it¡¯s worth a damn!


    ¡°But a sword- oh you can swing that around any way you¡¯d like. Sure, you may stab yourself with it from time to time, but there¡¯s costs to great power, and risks. Do you know what it takes to develop real magic?¡±


    ¡°No I-¡±


    ¡°Well we once called it Source Magic. A Source user would commune with one of the great points of magic in the world, and learn as many of its secrets as their mind could learn. Oftentimes that would be a fundamental Rune, but no source caster would be foolish enough to distill it down into some measly spell rune.¡±


    Her voice grew louder and louder as she spoke, as if the remembering itself were making her more powerful, ¡°Just stepping foot in one of those places would improve your might as a caster. You could enter frail and ragged, but if you walked out of there you would be mighty. I mean, look at me!¡±


    Mason caught himself with his hands, feeling his consciousness flicker under the waves of energy emanating from the frail looking woman. Faynel put a hand to his back compassionately, but never took her eyes off her grandmother.


    ¡°But my rune, the force rune. Does that mean I can¡¯t learn your magic, since I¡¯ve already learned that?¡± Both the women looked sharply at Mason from the determined sound of his voice. He looked like death but he sounded ready for a fight.


    The old woman laughed, ¡°You really did well bringing him, Faynel. He¡¯s stronger than he seems, and he asks just the right questions. I brought you here to prevent those fools from filling your head with foolish spell runes. Mowrytal himself can tell you about the consequences of trying to wield real magic after you¡¯ve learned those.


    ¡°No, you wield my Force rune. I brought it to our people, long before it was watered down by those too weak to handle it. And if you are to learn how to truly use it, you should know how I did that.¡±

 ~ Forty-Seven - Indiscriminate Force (One)

    The adventurer sloshed over the mantle of the cave, sending bits of snow and ice gliding against the polished floor. She paid no attention to the way it sizzled and evaporated, she was more preoccupied with peeling off the outermost layer of furs she wore and shaking the water out of it.


    She was getting ready to shake the snow out of her boots when she saw three figures huddled in the back of the cave, chatting quietly and watching her as she moved. ¡°Greetings,¡± she offered with a wave before turning back to her outfit.


    The snow was waist high in places, and as anything having to do with water, it found a way to get through every manner of moisture seal she had prepared. She had a toe or two that had gone numb about a quarter mile back, and was very much looking forward to warming them up by the shelter-stove.


    There was more muttering from the three in the corner, but finally the smallest of the three, a girl not much older than the adventurer had been when she began her first journeys, seemed to forget to be quiet. ¡°She¡¯s so powerful¡­¡±


    The adventurer smiled, and made a point to remove the layers around her head so she could show them she took it well. Her smile was genuine, and it reached into her violet eyes. This was her element, her world. ¡°I¡¯m just on a pilgrimage to the Point of Force, the same as you all.¡±


    The oldest of the three, a very dark skinned Marran with silver hair shook his head, ¡°We¡¯re actually preparing to head back once we¡¯ve warmed ourselves and rested. Even being this close to the Point was, well¡­¡±


    The middle boy finished his sentence, ¡°Life-changing.¡±


    The adventurer frowned, ¡°Then why stop here? The point is where you¡¯ll be sanctified.¡±


    She looked about the shelter and saw their dripping wet clothes everywhere. There were enough of them, surely. Once dry, they would be more than enough to withstand the cold up to the next shelter, and then on to the point. Their packs, too, looked full enough still. Didn¡¯t they realize the value of seeing one of the true sources of mana in the world?


    The oldest shook his head, ¡°It¡¯s no use. I feared we¡¯d lose Lantel before we even got to this shelter. We¡¯ve learned a lot about Force, but mostly that it¡¯s more dangerous than any of us had guessed.¡±


    The adventurer sighed. She really wasn¡¯t a good judge of other people¡¯s strength. She saw how easily they could grow stronger, and couldn¡¯t see why they wouldn¡¯t live up to their potential. Did they think she had been formed of different mana than them?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very humid in here with everything drying. Would any of you mind if I clear out the vapor?¡± the adventurer asked as she began to hang her clothing up on the makeshift stone rack behind her.


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± said the youngest, Lantel.


    With a simple motion the adventurer pulled all of the mana in the room into a tight ball in the air. She studied it for a moment, then it rotated and rippled. She split it, pulling out a smaller ball of dirty water, and flung it from the cave. The three young travellers watched in stunned amazement, and imagined that ball freezing before it ever hit the snow.


    The rest of the water the adventurer poured into a canteen at her side. It was too cold to be putting snow in her body every time she needed to hydrate. The canteen wouldn¡¯t freeze, either. It didn¡¯t take a very complicated enchantment to ensure that.


    The three began chatting excitedly together, and the adventurer caught two words prominently. ¡°No rune.¡±


    With how they said those words with wonder, she was forced to smile, ¡°It¡¯s just a simple spell, nothing to gawk at.¡±


    All three of them immediately clammed up when they realized she had heard them, and she laughed guiltily, ¡°I don¡¯t mind the curiosity. None of us are born knowing how to utilize the forces in this world, after all.¡±


    ¡°How did you get here all by yourself anyways?¡± blurted out the middle boy.


    She smiled again, ¡°I walked, same as you I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°But we had to use traps and all sorts of tactics the guides said required three people!¡± Lantel added. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ alone. And like me.¡±


    That raised an eyebrow. ¡°You mean a woman? Most powerful source masters are. It¡¯s the men who are too busy talking about their own strength to notice.¡±


    The boys looked abashed, but the girl was impressed. ¡°I wanted to see the point. But it¡¯s true, it was too hard to get here. And the paths are supposed to be much worse further up. But I really don¡¯t get it. How did you pass the impenetrable eyes?¡±


    The adventurer blinked at that, ¡°How would anyone? I just fought them. Didn¡¯t the guides tell you how?¡±


    ¡°You fought them? If they can focus on you for more than a few seconds they can launch you off the mountain!¡±


    ¡°They can try, I suppose. But they have weaknesses, you know. Here, let me show you.¡± The adventurer rummaged in her bag and pulled out a small, glass orb.


    ¡°You have the core of one? But¡­ they¡¯re called impenetrable for a reason!¡±


    ¡°Well then how do you think anyone sells these at market? I guess your fear is why they fetch such a good price then. I¡¯m really out of touch with the cities these days.¡±


    The young travellers all looked at each other, then back at her. ¡°Just how powerful are you?¡± asked the oldest.


    The adventurer sighed, ¡°Strong enough to forget that people can survive without such strength. Tell me, if fighting them is so baffling, how did you pass them by?¡±


    Lantel dug out a small stone that flashed red and pulsed an aura of mana. ¡°These catch their attention. If all three of us run back and forth holding them up, they can¡¯t focus on any of us. Then they don¡¯t fire at all.¡±


    The smile filled the adventurer¡¯s face now and she leaned back in laughter, ¡°Brilliant, absolutely clever. I don¡¯t know why they don¡¯t just teach you all a few good fundamental runes so you can defend yourself, but I can hardly fault someone for developing an alternate solution. Definitely safer, I¡¯d imagine. If they work, that is.¡±


    The three shifted uncomfortably and looked at one another silently. The adventurer noticed and leaned forward, ¡°What? I¡¯m missing something, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Father said most of the source masters didn¡¯t know,¡± the eldest began, hesitantly.


    ¡°They don¡¯t teach source magic in the cities anymore,¡± Lantel burst out.


    The adventurer just shook her head. That didn¡¯t make any sense, ¡°What do you mean, they don¡¯t teach magic? It¡¯s in our veins. It¡¯s all around us in the world. What, did they stop teaching math too? Too many fancy vehicles and no more budget for the basic studies?¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Well, not quite. They still teach spells. But they teach spell runes. You know, follow the full pattern to create a specific effect. The government said it was too dangerous to allow the common people to learn source magic or fundamental runes.¡±


    ¡°You still can if you have a source master in your family to teach you, or if you have special permissions for your field of work. But most people our age know too many spell runes to ever hope to go that way.¡±


    She stared at them unblinking for several long seconds. The young travellers were worried they had broken her.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been that long since I caught up with the cities, has it?¡± she asked herself, stunned. ¡°You¡¯re sure of this. This isn¡¯t just¡­ your city?¡±


    Lantel shook her head, ¡°No, it¡¯s all over. Our father taught us the basics of source magic early enough that we don¡¯t have to learn the spell runes. But it¡¯s too hard to come across real fundamental runes for us to learn much. That¡¯s why we decided to come up here.¡±


    ¡°Damn them!¡± the adventurer shouted, standing up in a huff. She looked around the cave at all of her wet clothes though, and saw the sheet of white falling from the sky outside of it, and sat back down. She stared at the glowing sigils on the warming box in the center of the room.


    ¡°I heard the talks about this last time I was in the city, but laughed it off as an impossibility. How could we pass up a connection to the source of our world, our very beings, for those shoddy spells?¡± she mused.


    ¡°They did talk for a long time. Programs wound down slowly. But in a span of a few months, there were three major incidents of novice source users causing tremendous amounts of destruction from backfiring spells. They said it just wasn¡¯t safe enough,¡± explained the eldest.


    ¡°Safe? Magic isn¡¯t meant to be safe. It¡¯s meant to test you, strengthen you, change you! I mean, how many people die on the paths to these source points every year? Sure, they regret their mistakes, but they chose to pursue something noble! Nobody ever became great because they played it safe!¡±


    The travellers looked at her with a mix of awe and pity. Not one of them was unaware of her strength, and they had seen their father¡¯s abilities. She was¡­ something else. To see an adventurer who could probably disable their father with a single spell lose her countenance like this was discomforting. But they didn¡¯t know what to say.


    She seemed to notice the looks they were giving her though, and she calmed herself with a breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Here you are stuck with a stranger in an icy mountain pass and she looks like she¡¯s losing her cool. The world just continues to change and rarely in the ways you expect it to.¡± She smiled sadly at them.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, though,¡± said young Lantel. ¡°It¡¯s in our veins. Father always told us to remember that we¡¯re made of mana, and that the source points mold our world into what it is. Some people might not learn the best ways to use magic, but that doesn¡¯t mean that nobody will.¡±


    The adventurer smiled at that too. ¡°I like the way you think.¡± She dug into her bag and pulled out a black bag with an orb concealed inside. ¡°Keep this to yourselves, but I had begun transcribing some of the fundamental runes that I¡¯ve encountered myself. It won¡¯t make up for not reaching a true source point, but maybe you three can study these and gather up enough skills to make it there on your next run up the mountain.¡±


    The young girl¡¯s eyes went wide when she peeked inside the bag and probed it with her mana. The transcription was clearly incomplete, but just these basics could improve their power tremendously, given enough years to decipher and practice with them. A well-travelled source master¡¯s experience was incomparably valuable.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be for real. We can¡¯t repay this,¡± said the middle boy.


    ¡°Source magic should be spread to anyone capable of learning it. I¡¯m not going to be an obstacle in your path if I can help you instead. Just share what you learn, when you find the strength to use it.¡±


    She rose early the next morning while the young ones still slept. It had been a long time since she had been able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. The long paths she had walked had opened her up to a great many things, and that greatness in turn filled her with power. So her days stretched long as she found ways to spend that energy, and her rest would end as soon as it was filled once more.


    But there was much to do, and she was always glad to get to it.


    For some reason though, on that particular morning as she fumed over the news of the changes in the cities, her mind was drawn to things past and lost. The snow had slowed to a gentle powdering, and she felt an inner joy when she felt the mana waxing in the air. The source point, too, was waking for the day.


    Each step she took in the snow crunched noisily, and she moved slower than she necessarily had to. There was no telling what unexpected problems she would have to deal with throughout the day, so it would be pointless to waste precious energy and mana just to move swiftly through snow.


    And as she moved, she wondered. What would happen to the cities now that they had set themselves down this course? She had long since given up on her dream to visit every source point personally, but she always hoped she might have some role to play in the life of the one who would. However, finding an apprentice was difficult in the best of the times, and this was clearly the end of the age of heroes.


    There was a bitterness in her chest at that thought. She recognized it, and had for a long time, that she was part of an age past, but to be so thoroughly confronted with the brute fact of it was galling. It stuck in her like a barb, and itched as she walked.


    She had given up weeks of work in passing on the memories of the source runes to those three young travelers, but if she felt remorse about her decision, it was only that she couldn¡¯t do more. Source runes could only be transmitted as ideas about experiences, and she had tried to collect them as well as she could, but how do you capture the raw nature of one of the fundamental aspects of the world?


    If any of the three were diligent, they would definitely benefit from the musings she had passed on. Of course, it wouldn¡¯t be comparable to even visiting a single source point directly, not without her to personally teach them through the inheritance. But perhaps it would be the launching point of their own personal journey. She could only hope.


    But more likely, and she had to admit this would be prudent, if insulting, they could get an expert to use that knowledge of the source runes to form out several clear spell runes. They wouldn¡¯t have any great power, but they would definitely enable abilities that had never been seen before outside the circles of source mages. In other words- they could make a great deal of money off them.


    She punched the face of the mountain pass and almost screamed when a snow drift crashed down on her head. Impulsivity never failed to punish her. The adventurer shook off the snow and freed herself, but even as she resumed walking, her mind wasn¡¯t on the path.


    Never having been particularly religious herself, she hadn¡¯t taken stock in the priests that often guarded source points, claiming that they were pieces of the gods or whatever else they believed. But if she didn¡¯t worship the source, she did respect it, and that respect could often appear as reverence. That was what she felt then as she wondered if the world would be angered when the heroes stopped coming to commune with its nature.


    What calamities would fall on her people?


    Bitterly, she admitted that this would not be the end of the powerful people in the world. Commerce and politics were stronger than ever. Long had it been since a renowned hero could make a declaration, and Marrans would rally to their side. Now, it didn¡¯t matter the strength of the person if they didn¡¯t hold clout in the political circles. Or if they couldn¡¯t pay the right people.


    And there were other paths to power, too. Source Magistry may be the most honorable of pursuits, and may offer the highest potential to those who could survive its perils, but it wasn¡¯t enough to claim dominance over all the world¡¯s forms of power.


    She grinned as finally a pleasant memory passed her mind. That strange man who had bested her without a single spell. There were few on Marra who didn¡¯t use magic in some form, but he somehow had found another path, and a powerful one at that. He had laughed when she admitted defeat, but it had been the most exhilarating fight she had been party to in quite some time. He had proved competent with several other skillsets that evening, too.


    Pleasant pasts aside, she was still troubled about what it meant that source magic was being shunned. If she had, like her master before her, learned to use the Tree of Memory, she could pass on a great deal more of her skills. But that path had been closed to her. Nowhere on Marra had she found another skilled enough in the Soul Arts to open her branch.


    Or, at least, none who would admit they had the skills. What ignorance had led to the Soul Arts being treated like a crime! They were merely another path to power, and one aligned closely with Source Magistry, at that.


    Inside of her, she could still feel it. The budding piece of her soul which formed its own Source. Ah, that was what the priests said, she remembered. That the gods themselves had been Marran once, but upon mastering the source within themselves, they rose temples and let the power consume them, becoming source points.


    But then where had they learned Source Magistry at all if there were no source points before them? It was a myth which only raised more questions.

 ~ Forty-Eight - Indiscriminate Force (Two)

    What had brought her here? It was the logical question to ask after all of her musings. What made confronting the source so important to her? Why did she care if society shifted to an unfamiliar course? It was¡­ safer. Safe. That word grated on the adventurer in a way she couldn¡¯t define. She had never been safe in her life.


    She drew a heavy wooden rod from her side and fueled it with mana. It burst to life with what appeared to be curling blue flames. They shot out and twisted back on themselves, forming the shape of a glowing spear with a very long tip. She watched the flames cool as they wrapped and tightened around themselves, and formed into a blue metal.


    Thrusting forward, she felt the cool air ripple around her, and shivered from its chill as it set past the many layers of protection and warmth that slowed her down on the winter pass. She had formed the spear well this time. It moved comfortably through the air with little mental energy.


    Her sharp eyes turned ahead, and without warning she sprinted forward and launched herself in the air. The adventurer¡¯s movements were bestial, and she moved with a strength and swiftness that could intimidate most foes into faltering even before she had landed a strike. This target, a lone impenetrable eye, was not sentient enough to falter though. It caught sight of her movement and began to focus.


    The spear cracked into the glassy surface of the floating eye in three places, each on the edge of the iris, each thrust no more than two inches deep. If one were to connect the dots, they would see a perfect triangle between the incisions. Then they would likely be blown away by the sheer concussive force unleashed by the eye as it was destroyed.


    It¡¯s weak spots critically maimed, the eye crashed to the ground and blew a torrent of snow raging through the air. The adventurer had already sheltered by a large boulder she had identified before her leap, and the force of its death merely made her shiver harder as she clutched the icy stone. When the gusts released from it calmed, she rushed out and reached for the core. They were valuable, true. But their real value was in their relation to the source point.


    Why does that fill me was such an overpowering need?


    It was strange to be questioning something so intrinsic to her nature. She hadn¡¯t spent such long years training and exploring and traveling the world only to second-guess herself now. But perhaps it was exactly the length of those years that left her wondering why she had.


    <hr>


    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± Mason interrupted while the old woman had paused to reflect. He didn¡¯t mean to be impolite, and he wanted to know more about her journey, but he couldn¡¯t see how it connected to his own.


    ¡°Because I want you to know why you are here, and equally as important, why I am.¡± The pile of blankets and cushions began to shift, and slowly she rose. The dense mana in the air began to circulate, then pulled inwards toward her, and at the same time, she grew.


    Buried in the pile, she could not possibly have been more than a few feet tall, but as she pulled the mana into herself, she transformed. There was still a hunch, and a softness to her body even under the loose robes that flowed and piled around her, but there was also still a great deal of mana in the air. Mason wondered what she was capable of in an emergency.


    ¡°I am old, and I have seen the world change, and now, finally, I have seen a new world. I like it not, but it is not for me to like, or to live in. I am here to pass on as much of my power as can be received, and then to fade into the past of our once great people. The council denies this, but the Trials are far less uncertain on the fact.¡± Her voice had a regal quality to it, even in its age. She spoke like she was used to wielding great power, and having her words obeyed.


    ¡°Grandmother, the Trials could also restore your strength. You said it yourself, you feel better than you have in a long time,¡± Faynel protested, a bit of her usual confidence having returned.


    ¡°Nonsense!¡± the old woman scoffed. ¡°I am a relic, and I am burdened with too many years of believing in only one way to live. I cannot change that course now. If I could, we Marrans would not have been deemed in decline when we came here.¡±


    Faynel looked stricken, ¡°You cannot say that in front of¡­¡±


    ¡°I say what I would like!¡± she shouted. She walked close to Mason, and he willed himself to endure her potent aura. ¡°Your people could be one of any great number of things, but I am certain about you. You are as much a Darkest Night as my arrogant granddaughter. The times have changed, and so must we.¡±


    Mason knew he was being tested. ¡°You said that your people were¡­ in decline?¡±


    The old woman smiled, ¡°The Trials know that we were once great. A Source Master of the highest caliber could have levelled the Corrosi armies. I could have done so. We would know no fear in the face of them. But we grew civilized, and safe, and weak in our security. We forgot that dangers loom unknown in the distance, and we decayed. I suspect the same is true of the Biord, from what reports I have received, and those beasts you found in the tunnels seem to be victims of their own decline as well.¡±


    ¡°So this place is a punishment? A final nail in the coffin for races that failed? Who would do something like that?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a punishment,¡± Faynel corrected. ¡°What do we call these lands we¡¯re in, Mason?¡±


    ¡°The Trials? Oh.¡± Sometimes, the simplest answer was correct. ¡°What exactly are they testing us for?¡±


    ¡°To see who can pull themselves out of decline. What powers do you think might arise when you bring survivors from a great many worlds into a land that cannot support them? They will fight, they will conquer, and perhaps a person, perhaps a people, will be able to retrieve the strengths of others and find something new,¡± the old woman smiled now, satisfied that he was catching on.


    ¡°I have reason to believe that not all of Marra was brought to the trials. For one, the population of this city is small. Remarkably so. And beyond that, I can still feel my connection to the source. It is faint, but it remains. So Marra is not destroyed,¡± she explained.


    ¡°Do we have any incentive to play along with this game? And what really are the rules? Should we be enemies?¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The old woman shrugged casually, and walked back to her old perch, shrinking as her mana spread out once more. ¡°Who knows? My rules are the same though. I believe that any capable of understanding magic should be given the gift. So I will share it with you and hope that you use it to protect my people. And there is a hope.¡±


    Faynel finished her thought, ¡°We think that if a few people on the plane become strong enough to reverse their people¡¯s decline, that the rest may be free to return to their homes.¡±


    ¡°A pipe dream, or a fantasy, or a goal to work toward. It is something though.¡±


    ¡°And you mentioned the tree of memory,¡± Mason reminded her, ¡°In your story?¡±


    The old woman waved him off weakly, but even that simple motion made ripples in the mana in the air, ¡°Not worth thinking about. I don¡¯t have the gift, and our people have not retained any of the knowledge necessarily to learn it.¡±


    ¡°Even if I could unlock a branch?¡± Mason asked innocently. Faynel gasped faintly, and the old woman reconsidered them both.


    ¡°Perhaps it is worth thinking about, if it involves you. I presume Leornal left out some details from your adventures?¡±


    ¡°Leornal? I don¡¯t understand how he¡¯s related to this.¡±


    ¡°Well, Mowrytal may be the more important. But Leornal frequently knows more than he lets on, and he has a habit of getting involved with things. Did he tell you what he was on Marra?¡± the old woman was grinning mischievously now.


    ¡°An accountant, right?¡±


    ¡°Hmmm, yes. He did that. He was a moneyman, but he kept my daughter as company, and she is not simple either. And neither is my beloved granddaughter,¡± she nodded to Faynel. ¡°But tell me, what do you know of the Tree of Memory?¡±


    ¡°I know that my branch is open. I¡¯ve seen it inside my soul. But mine is twisted, bound up with Mowrytal and Geralt¡¯s own memories.¡±


    Faynel looked stricken, ¡°Grandmother, I did not¡­¡±


    ¡°Shush,¡± the old woman said hurriedly. ¡°He would not be the first soul arts user I have protected and he will not be the last. They are not evil, no matter what lies the cities spew. Did Mowrytal do this to you, child?¡±


    Mason shook his head, ¡°No, it was Artorias. The old man in the underground city. He was incredibly strong, and seemed to think he was helping.¡±


    ¡°He was at that, but maybe not for the reasons you hope. And you¡¯re just as lucky to have met him as to have met Mowrytal. I can think of few others still alive that would have had the skills to make your soul a hospitable place after the brutal magic of that staff.¡±


    None of this made sense to Mason. He didn¡¯t know what roles any of these people had played, or a damn thing about the powers he was using or that had been used on him. ¡°But the Tree of Memory can help?¡±


    ¡°If a connection could be established between your branch and mine, or you consumed my soul as well,¡± she laughed then, and it filled Mason and Faynel with dread to hear it. ¡°Well, in either case your body as is would likely burn to dust in seconds. But perhaps an option will open in the future. Hearing about the Source, or reading about it, or studying its runes, can be a vastly moving experience. But if you could see the memories firsthand and draw your own account, well, then we could move you along.¡±


    Mason tried to stand but wavered, then he looked up at the woman, ¡°So what can we do?¡±


    The woman shrugged, ¡°Nothing. None of these options are possible as things stand. So I will continue to tell you what I can, and you will endure my training as I have prepared it.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t agree to be trained by you,¡± Mason pointed out as a challenge.


    Faynel shot a look his way but he ignored her. The old woman simply laughed again, ¡°I am very, very old, child. I can tell the way the wind is blowing, and I saw you before the council. Would you suddenly turn down power and possibility?¡±


    ¡°Grandmother, can I have a moment with Mason before we continue the story?¡± Faynel asked hurriedly, grabbing Mason¡¯s hand and pulling him to his feet.


    ¡°Of course, my dear.¡± Mason could have sworn he saw a wink.


    <hr>


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Faynel yelled once they had made it a fair distance away from the temple. She was all fury, with her violet eyes wide and focused. Mason was surprised she didn¡¯t take a swing at him.


    Mason was pale from handling the mana surplus, but he managed to keep himself steady, and he wasn¡¯t about to play into her games. ¡°What, are you afraid of your grandmother?¡±


    ¡°Afraid?¡± Faynel asked, incredulous. She turned away, stomped, and turned back to him. ¡°Did you not hear any of what she said? Did you not feel the mana pouring off of her? Not only is she the only Source Mage in the entire Trials that can teach us, but she provides enough mana to keep the entire city alive singlehandedly. There¡¯s no afraid about it. You should do what she says!"


    Maynel looked like he was about to argue, but she just continued to scream. ¡°My mother, Torysen, Leornal, and Shaywise may have spoken in favor of protecting you, but the only reason you¡¯re standing here in New Marra was because she told the council to allow it.¡±


    ¡°My rousing speech didn¡¯t have anything to do with that?¡±


    Faynel looked ready to strangle him. ¡°You are being an idiot.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that a lot lately.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get us killed!¡±


    ¡°That also sounds familiar.¡±


    ¡°What is with you?¡± her voice was a screech at this point, but Mason noticed nobody was nearby. At least not visibly. She must have scared away the crowd. Or maybe that was just a factor of the time of day. When had it gotten dark out?


    ¡°What is with you, Faynel? You seemed really confident when you marched into my house the other day and made yourself at home. You sparred excellently, you drugged me properly, you¡¯ve seemed so in control of everything. But you¡¯re acting like a mess when it comes to that old woman,¡± Mason matched her stare and took a step toward her.


    Her hand launched out at his face and he stepped around it and smacked her hand down. Her next hand came up, curled into a fist, and he knocked that to the side too. ¡°You¡¯re even sloppier like this.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck, Mason!¡± she threw her hands up and stomped away.


    ¡°Do you think she wants you to submit to her, Faynel?¡± Mason called after her.


    She turned then, all fury, and rasped, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯re being respectful? Giving her this ¡®Yes, Grandmother¡¯ stuff and manipulating people in accordance with her plans? If that¡¯s really what she wants from you, then she¡¯ll want that from me, and I don¡¯t think that¡¯s worth the power she can offer me.¡±


    ¡°What else could she expect? Even my mother obeys her and my mother is a Councilwoman!¡±


    ¡°Your grandmother wandered the world for who knows how long unbeholden to anybody and fearing nothing. She thought the cities were ridiculous and gave her rare and valuable power to a bunch of teenagers she met in a cave. What do you think she wants?¡±


    ¡°Things aren¡¯t that simple, Mason. She¡¯s gotten old, and¡­¡±


    There was a noise that they both recognized in a heartbeat. It shouldn¡¯t have been familiar, save for in video games or television shows, but Mason¡¯s life was different now and he knew it innately by the tension in his muscles and the chill down his spine.


    Steel against leather. A weapon being unsheathed.


    The two of them turned at once to the sound of chuckling, and immediately moved their hands to their weapons.

 ~ Forty-Nine - Indiscriminate Force (Three)

    ¡°So I¡¯ve been saying to my boys,¡± the chuckling voice droned as he began walking forward while the so-called boys spread out around their targeted pair. ¡°That if I saw that fucking human Shayjol kept mentioning, I¡¯d have to gut him.¡±


    Mason sighed and reached for his staff, then hesitated and put his hand on his sword instead. ¡°Well, I¡¯m that fucking human. Do you follow through with your threats or were you just sharing an amusing anecdote?¡± He had come outside without his glamour on because he was too focused on Faynel. It was good to know for sure why Faynel had been so insistent he use it.


    Faynel was smiling though. Her grandmother made her insecure, but fighting she knew. If these cretins were worth something, they¡¯d be in the defense force or the roving bands. But instead, they were poorly dressed and carrying crude weapons in a dark section of the city.


    But her smile had more to do with Mason¡¯s lazy way of addressing them. If he wasn¡¯t scared, they stood a good chance of coming out of this alright.


    ¡°Shut the fuck up. You¡¯re outnumbered, and I¡¯m certain that girl by your side doesn¡¯t want to get into trouble over you. Shayjol said you were a barely competent fighter, but judging by how little mana you have, I¡¯m not sure you¡¯ll even be that much to handle.¡± He spat, and addressed Faynel directly, ¡°That means scram, girl. If you keep your mouth shut, we won¡¯t hurt anyone but your little pet.¡±


    Did they really not recognize her? ¡°Who are you thugs, anyways?¡±


    There were six of them, and they fanned out reasonably, but they looked young and scrawny. Weren¡¯t the Marran¡¯s doing anything to train their citizens? Mason had just assumed¡­ but judging by the makeshift slings and clubs that most of them seemed to be armed with, it was unlikely.


    Of course, the chuckling boy had a long knife that wouldn¡¯t qualify as a short sword even if he was Mason¡¯s size.


    ¡°We¡¯re peacekeepers. My dad was friends with Mowrytal. He was a good guy, did a lot for my family back when we first got brought to this shit-hole. And you,¡± he pointed at Mason, ¡°are the asshole who killed him. I don¡¯t care how you fooled the council or if you¡¯ve got a whole army coming. You¡¯re gonna die.¡±


    There was no point in defending himself, ¡°Well it¡¯s nice to see that street trash is the same in every world. You guys have no clue what¡¯s going on and you¡¯re still going to take it out on someone you don¡¯t even know. But there¡¯s really no point in us fighting here. Just go away.¡±


    Faynel hazarded a glance at Mason and was impressed by what she saw. He was standing tall, even in the face of six armed boys taller than him. After all he¡¯d been through that day with the salve and her grandmother, she expected him to be a mess.


    Maybe she didn¡¯t understand her grandmother, but she did know what the old woman would do in this situation. She stepped forward, partially blocking Mason, ¡°You should listen to him. This isn¡¯t a fight you can win.¡±


    ¡°Fucking bitch, go die!¡± shouted one of the sling-wielding boys on the right side. He already had a rock prepared, and flung it at high velocity right at her.


    In moments, the street descended into chaos. Both Mason and Faynel had their weapons drawn and lunged at the boys, and the rock had clattered against a building ineffectually. The quarters were too close for an attack like that to have any value without the element of surprise.


    Mason made it to the boy first, punching him in the gut with his unarmed hand, and Faynel was behind the group. None of the boys had expected the fight to start with anything other than their leader attacking, and though they moved to action they were slow to do it.


    A club swept wildly toward Faynel and she just ducked under it, stabbing the boy in the hand and making it fall to the ground. Her foot came up in a kick and he fell away under its pressure as she pivoted to deal with another boy who was winding a swing.


    Mason was having more trouble with a club-wielder, dodging left and right with the footwork but uncertain about how to get past its reach. The boy wielding it was faster than he had any right to be- not as fast as Faynel, but with a much heavier weapon.


    The chuckling boy engaged then, and began trying to stab at Mason while the clubber kept him off balance. If his knife had been any longer, Mason may have lost blood but¡­


    A second clubber came up to Mason and swung at him from behind. Mason quickly regretted his haste in attacking earlier. He was boxed in, and he was being pushed toward the walls of the street. If he pulled out his staff he could probably get a couple hits in without worrying about killing someone with his blade, but an instinct told him that using those dangerous spells would only bring more notoriety on his head.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    As he dodged, he thought about his force rune. If he could cast Indiscriminate Force he could find space to maneuver in, but he wasn¡¯t sure he had the energy for a spell. He felt dizzy as he tried against his better judgment, and then felt a club catch his side. He gasped at the shock of it, and doubled over even as he fell.


    Another blow was falling down toward him, and he rolled just barely in time to get out of its way. He saw the other clubber collapse, presumably due to Faynel¡¯s influence, but while he was distracted by that the chuckler stood up over him, brandishing his knife. Mason moved to swipe at the boy¡¯s leg but felt the sharp, searing agony of steel in his side.


    His mind reeled. Being stabbed was¡­ different. Learning magic, getting cut up and scratched by beasts, suspended in the air by a strange force, plunged into the memories of other people, overwhelmed by the strength of an old woman¡¯s aura¡­ each of those things had a place in his fantasy version of the world.


    But this was crude. It was a street brawl. He felt hot blood pouring from his side, and the surprised gasps of his attacker. It was like getting mugged. What had he been thinking challenging six armed thugs in the streets? What made him think he¡¯d win?


    Bodies flew over him as something magical happened. He heard shouts, and saw people run back and forth. Mostly he felt the pain in his side. He should have gotten up, at least to defend himself if not to keep fighting. But he couldn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t find himself. His hand was on his wound, but he didn¡¯t remember moving it.


    And he didn¡¯t know how to make himself move in any other way.


    Was he paralyzed? Maybe he was dying. That would suit. He¡¯d done nothing useful in this world so far, and would die before really getting a chance. He was cold, and he knew that was something that came from bloodloss. Was Faynel okay?


    Maybe this would be when he unlocked some kind of new power. That¡¯s how it worked in stories. But he already had powers. He could have used his staff. But he didn¡¯t. He was afraid of causing a fuss. Afraid of using his power. Well, now he wouldn¡¯t have a chance to do so.


    At some point his hand fell from his wound into a wet puddle of his blood. He heard shouting, but it was hollow behind the ringing in his ears. His vision had gone a while back, but it had already been poor in the nighttime. Maybe that was why he moved so sloppily.


    Something warm touched his face, and there were more shouts.


    Then someone poured dirt down his throat and he coughed and spluttered through it. He still felt too weak to move, but he tried to shake it away. It was wet. Muddy. What an awful way to die.


    <hr>


    Leornal sat at the edge of Mason¡¯s bed and read from his crystal book. Faynel had fallen asleep long ago, and Leornal really felt that he was missing an opportunity to embarrass her, but he could let that go. Two things had really stood out about Mason. Well, three.


    He drew in trouble like a beast to a mana stone, that was certain. Crime was relatively low in The Trials. There was petty thievery, and of course something akin to all out war against the more savage races, but to be mugged and almost killed in an alleyway? That was something special.


    The second thing he knew, was that the boy had an uncanny knack for getting people to help him for almost no damned reason at all. Leornal was honest with himself though, he knew that was a fairly personal complaint he had against the boy.


    He was an archer, not a rescue specialist. So why had he gone after him when they got separated in the hive? And more to the point, why had he wasted a perfectly fine evening with Councilwoman Leenel to watch her daughter fuss over the boy¡¯s health?


    The third thing might explain the second, if he was willing to admit it outright, which he wasn¡¯t. But the boy, the Demon, Mason- he was impressive. He seemed to lack fear to the point of it being a handicap. To hear it from Faynel, he had charged the six of them even before she moved, and almost handled himself well. Almost.


    But that¡¯s what health potions were for, and it was lucky that Faynel carried one. By the time Leornal had gotten to them to help, his wounds looked hardly as bad as hers, though the pool of blood was unmistakable.


    The old woman was furious, too. Apparently she had taken the two of them on as a pet project, and she didn¡¯t like that they had been attacked so close to her temple. Well, what could she expect? If the woman weren¡¯t the only thing keeping the city of New Marra alive with mana she¡¯d have hell to pay for even considering giving that kind of power to a human.


    Old Lady Sorynel. The only one of the great Source Masters to make it into the Trials. One of the last few alive to his knowledge. Not that he had paid much attention to that sort of thing back in his accounting days.


    He didn¡¯t like her much. She liked to play games with the people around her, and she hardly played fair. And he knew she didn¡¯t like him much either, but that was because he had made the same mistake as just about everyone he knew and traded the pure, chaotic source magic for the security of spell runes.


    But it wasn¡¯t like he was going to follow in Mowrytal¡¯s footsteps. That hadn¡¯t turned out well for him at all. He grunted then as he realized. Both of them somehow ended up helping that human boy. But at least Leornal was alive to experience the real pleasures in life. Pleasures such as the ones Leenel would likely provide after she heard how he had helped her daughter.


    He glanced at the girl then, slumped from her chain onto Mason¡¯s bed, head resting against his arm. Vaguely uncomfortable to see her looking like that, especially as he thought about Leenel, he stood and walked from the room, bringing his book with him.


    The archer tried to get back into his story, but he was troubled. Most of the city was talking about Mason, and half, if not more than half, of the council considered him a risk. If he hadn¡¯t so publically asked to join Torysen¡¯s Roving Band, he likely would have been shipped off to the Biord¡¯s city by now, even though Sorynel wanted to work with him directly.


    To attack him in the streets was foolish, but it said a lot about the state of the city¡¯s thoughts toward Mason. Leornal would have expected something more subtle as a first strike against him. And now that it was known that he could be almost killed by mere ruffians¡­ things didn¡¯t bode well for Mason¡¯s safety.

 ~ Fifty- Indiscriminate Force (Four)

    When Mason finally awoke his hand immediately moved to touch his side, but it got tangled on a mess of violet hair in the process. He blinked a few times to clear his way through the foggy half-consciousness of recovery sleep, and he realized that Faynel must have fallen asleep at his side. A smile grew on his face unwittingly, and he shoved that down. This wasn¡¯t the time to be flattered.


    Extricating his hand, he managed to pull his shirt up and feel at the place where he had been stabbed. The skin definitely felt different, right? Or had it always felt that way? Well, more things had happened to him than just a knife wound, he figured. The salve and mana mingling, for one. And presumably a health potion, unless he¡¯d been unconscious for days.


    He hadn¡¯t, had he? A creaking outside the small bedroom sent Mason into high alert, and he reached for a knife before realizing he was in bed and unarmed. Almost naked, in fact. Who had¡­? He looked down at Faynel, forgetting for a moment that he had been afraid of the creaking noise, and decided to wake her.


    She murmured something sleepily as he shook her, and sat up slowly, shaking and stretching to relieve the inevitable kinks in her back and neck from sleeping at an odd angle - she¡¯d never meant to fall asleep at all. Mason smiled at her, but he couldn¡¯t help feel like she looked awful. Her hair was in complete disarray, and he could see spittle on her face from her sleep.


    ¡°Good morning, sunshine,¡± he teased with a voice more hoarse than he had expected from himself.


    ¡°Sun...shine?¡± she asked with squinted eyes as she assessed her surroundings.


    They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, and then Mason¡¯s brain caught up with him. ¡°Oh! Um, sun. It¡¯s the bright thing in the daytime that burns you. We humans wake up to it everyday. We call its light sunshine, when we¡¯re happy.¡± His voice rasped, and he still felt exhausted, but his embarrassment drove the words out of him.


    ¡°Right, um.¡± She nodded.


    ¡°Thanks for saving me, too.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. You fought, well¡­¡±


    ¡°I rushed in like an idiot,¡± Mason admitted.


    ¡°You were very brave,¡± she offered.


    ¡°But you actually saved me.¡±


    Leornal watched from the doorway, torn between wanting to walk away to let the young ones have their awkwardness, and wanting to break it up to spare them from it. He settled with clearing his throat.


    They turned to look at him, and both shook themselves as they tried to mentally catch up with his presence. ¡°Neither of you are going to training today. The old witch is expecting you both again,¡± he announced.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Mason asked suddenly.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t very well let our only human bleed out from a knife-fight in front of the daughter of a councilwoman¡¯s daughter. I¡¯m assigned to keep you safe, anyways.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Mason looked down at his lap. ¡°Thank you both. I um¡­ seem to be the subject of everyone¡¯s attention lately.¡±


    It was Faynel and Leornal¡¯s turn to share a look then. Leornal grunted, ¡°You¡¯re not that important.¡±


    ¡°Those thugs yesterday just wanted to stir up trouble,¡± Faynel added.


    ¡°They mentioned Shayjol though,¡± Mason whispered.


    There was a moment of silence, and Faynel spoke again, ¡°There¡¯s a reason he was sent to work with his parents rather than the Roving Bands. The Trials took all sorts, and it¡¯s fairly known that he doesn¡¯t have the best of friends.¡±


    ¡°I thought he was my friend, though. We didn¡¯t talk much after the hive, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Put him out of your mind for now,¡± Leornal interrupted. ¡°What¡¯s important is that you learn from the witch and from Torysen¡¯s training. Whatever his thoughts on you are, there are plenty of people in this city who don¡¯t think too highly of you. If Faynel hadn¡¯t been with you last night, you would be dead, so focus.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Mason acknowledged. ¡°I made a mistake. With all of this training and all of these fights I¡¯ve technically come out of alright, I thought a few bullies were nothing to worry about. I won¡¯t make that mistake again, Leornal.¡±


    Leornal saw the fire in his eyes, and almost wanted to laugh. It was the same look that had gotten Faynel into the Roving Bands despite her mother¡¯s protestation. And what sort of person blamed themselves for losing in a six on two fight?


    What Leornal said though, was, ¡°I expect that you won¡¯t.¡± Then he turned and left the house.


    Faynel meanwhile had stood up and brushed herself off, and even a few adjustments of her unruly hair had made a big difference. ¡°I¡¯m going to make you breakfast, Mason, and then we need to finish talking about my grandmother.¡±


    Mason nodded, ¡°Saving my life and making me breakfast? It¡¯s almost like we¡¯re friends.¡±


    She scowled at him, but it quickly shifted to a small smile, ¡°I guess if we have to be.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°So,¡± Mason began to ask as they walked back through the city streets. It was daytime, which was comforting to the human, but he knew better than to assume that meant he was safe. Marrans didn¡¯t need light to see. It was merely chance that it happened to be night when he got attacked. ¡°Why weren¡¯t those guys employed as like¡­ guards or something? I mean, obviously, they were pretty shit people, but shouldn¡¯t they be made to do something useful? Aren¡¯t you guys under attack?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Faynel almost frolicked through the streets. She wasn¡¯t intimidated by the attack, but then again, she hadn¡¯t almost bled out from a stab wound less than a day ago.


    She turned back to him and looked thoughtful, ¡°Not everyone takes to violence as naturally as you do.¡±


    Mason blinked, ¡°Well, thanks, I guess.¡±


    ¡°No, but really. There was a lot of fighting in the first days, but some people were good at it. My grandmother, for instance.¡±


    ¡°What, can she launch fireballs from her comfy room?¡± Mason laughed.


    Faynel thought about it, ¡°Well, yes. But she¡¯s actually very mobile when that¡¯s her focus. She did most of the protecting when we got here, while people trained and tried to cobble together some skills. And then we formed patrols and the defense teams, and most people just¡­ went back to their normal lives, I guess. The council was pretty adamant about it.¡±


    ¡°So you were a natural then?¡± Mason inquired.


    She shook her head and her tone was suddenly serious, ¡°Not at first. Not like you.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    She turned away from him and kept walking, but he kept pace. Her posture told him that she was trying to decide how much to share, so he kept quiet.


    ¡°I was fast, and graceful, but I didn¡¯t know a spell rune or source magic. I had been training in mana arts only back on Marra. When I got here, it was hell. The city might be large, but our population was actually even larger back then. A lot of people didn¡¯t survive the first days. I almost didn¡¯t survive.¡±


    It was hard picking up the pieces of the past. Mason knew what he had been through, and had seen glimmers of Mowrytal¡¯s and Geralt¡¯s experiences as well, but his people weren¡¯t even supposed to be in The Trials yet, he knew. His first days had been- well, not easy, but gentle in their own way. He hadn¡¯t fought anything too dangerous, and by the time he had, he was surrounded by capable fighters.


    The look on Faynel¡¯s face was hollow. Her eyes were looking backward to the past, and her lips were drawn tight. Mason almost wanted to touch her and say it was okay.


    But she continued, ¡°I didn¡¯t want to fight at all at first. I just ran. I dodged. I fled. But eventually I was cornered, and I had a knife, and apparently I was good with it because I survived. And I kept surviving.¡± She was regaining a little of her normal demeanor, ¡°And now I want to make sure that¡¯s not an issue I run into again. Like last night, those boys that attacked you. I tried not to hurt them, I really did.¡±


    Faynel stopped again, ¡°But I know I would have killed them if I didn¡¯t think you could be saved.¡±


    Mason stopped too, and he met her eyes, ¡°I won¡¯t put you in that situation again.¡±


    The stare lasted several seconds, and then she nodded, and began walking swiftly down the path again. It seemed as good a time as any to bring up an old subject. ¡°But you still fear your grandmother?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°Different? But of course. That¡¯s why you drugged me and seduced me and never bothered to ask me about my opinion. Are you sure violence doesn¡¯t come naturally to you?¡± There was hostility in his voice.


    She looked abashed at first, but she recovered quickly, ¡°You haven¡¯t seen what she¡¯s capable of.¡±


    ¡°Does it matter? Are you willing to submit to her just because she¡¯s more powerful than you?¡±


    Now she moved toward him, angry. ¡°Aren¡¯t you the one who gave a rousing speech about making sacrifices for power? These are The Trials, you said, and we need to be willing to make hard choices, right?¡±


    He locked his face into a glare to rival her own, ¡°You¡¯re right. And I don¡¯t regret what I¡¯ve done. But did you make a hard choice to survive or did you blindly follow someone because you fear them?¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°Grandmother Sorynel I want to train under you,¡± Faynel announced as the two of them burst back into the messy room.


    ¡°Well,¡± the old woman responded uncertainly, ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that dear but I believe that was already settled. What of young Mason? I heard you were injured last night.¡±


    Mason shrugged, deferring his role in this as Faynel walked into the center of the room.


    ¡°Look at me!¡± the girl almost shouted, ¡°I¡¯m not going to obey you just because of your position as the protector of this city. What we did to Mason was unfair. He deserved a say in the process before that point, and I don¡¯t like that I was dragged into your dirty work,¡± she spoke clearly, but Mason didn¡¯t miss the faint tremors in her hands. He hadn¡¯t necessarily needed her to speak up about him specifically, but he was glad to see her standing her ground. And on a personal level, he was pleased to see she cared.


    ¡°Well, that is your right, Faynel,¡± the grandmother said, sounding every bit her age, ¡°But I don¡¯t recall forcing you into any part of it, and you were the one who knew him personally,¡± Sorynel spoke as if this really weren¡¯t any concern of hers. ¡°If you didn¡¯t believe it was the right way to go about things you should have spoken up. And having now met the boy, I think he would have gone along with the plot readily, anyhow.¡±


    That stalled Faynel in her place, ¡°You¡¯re not angry?¡±


    Sorynel¡¯s confusion seemed genuine, ¡°Why would I be?¡±


    Faynel looked back and Mason and he just shrugged that off too. This was between them.


    ¡°Because¡­ well, you¡¯re in charge? And I was¡­ questioning your¡­ authority?¡± Faynel stammered out, looking more ready to run than even before.


    ¡°Your mother fears me, Faynel, because I gave her almighty hell when I discovered she had taken on spell runes while she was young. We were at odds for a great many years. But have I ever once raised my voice with you?¡±


    ¡°Well, no¡­¡±


    ¡°And have I ever insisted you do anything, besides learn from my experience?¡±


    ¡°Mother, she always¡­¡±


    The old woman smiled, and burst into a raucous laughter. ¡°Mason, I will have you know you ruined a perfectly fine game for me.¡±


    He shrugged again, ¡°I was stabbed last night. I guess I¡¯m not in the mood for games. You seem like an impressive woman, and I want to learn from you, but I¡¯ve already got two very angry spirits inside of me that I¡¯m unsure of what to do with. I don¡¯t really need another powerful person trying to assert their will over me.¡±


    Mason took a deep breath, and walked a little closer to the center of the room, taking a seat on a cushion. He already felt haggard again from being in her presence, but he knew better than to let his weakness show.


    ¡°What the hell do you mean a game?¡± Faynel asked suddenly, walking up closer to her grandmother.


    ¡°Do you think I didn¡¯t know that you would do everything I asked?¡± the old woman asked with one eye cocked, ¡°This whole city acts the same, and I¡¯m not going to go out of my way to dissuade anyone of that fact. A great deal of power comes from the assumption of power, rather than its practice. It took me a long time to realize that¡¯s what set me apart from so many others,¡± she eyed Mason as she mused now, and he returned her stare with heavy-lidded eyes.


    Faynel looked between the two, baffled that somehow Mason had managed to find a position of respect in relation to this powerful figure that she had practically been raised to fear. ¡°That¡¯s so messed up!¡±


    ¡°Is it really any different than you coming in and tricking me into a ritual? You used my trust and respect against me, and she used fear against you. It seems fair to me,¡± Mason said.


    ¡°Enough. Mason, you¡¯ll forgive the girl for what she did in my name. We all make mistakes, and anyways, you¡¯ve touched her mana so you know who she is. But I need an answer. Will you learn from me what knowledge I can pass on?¡±


    With a confidence that disguised how completely exhausted he was, Mason responded, ¡°Of course. I just wanted to hear you ask.¡±

 ~ Fifty-One - Indiscriminate Force (Five)

    ¡°I have a few questions I want to ask you before you continue your story, Lady Sorynel,¡± Mason stated with a confidence and clarity that defied how he really felt.


    ¡°Oh yes?¡± she drew out the words. ¡°Interesting. I have a few questions for you as well.¡±


    Faynel spoke up then and her voice wavered, but it was clear she was working hard to steel it, ¡°You should answer his first. You¡­ I.. We owe him that much.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you save his life last night? Haven¡¯t we protected him from our laws and his own enemies? I believe, too, we are clothing, feeding, and housing the human boy. Are you quite certain we owe him, Faynel?¡± Sorynel spoke not quite with a rush of energy pouring out from her, but a slow build. The room grew stuffy with its force.


    Faynel dipped her head at first before going rigid, and then pulling it back up to look directly at her grandmother. ¡°I¡¯m certain. We¡¯ve protected and strengthened him, so he owes us loyalty, or consideration from his people, at the least. But we also have deceived him, so we owe him answers.¡±


    Mason barely regarded either of them during their exchange. This wasn¡¯t about him. It was about the pecking order. It was about the respect that might lay between the two of them. For every bit as mischievous Sorynel came off, Mason could easily see Faynel pulling the same maneuvers. But it mattered how they let those cards fall between them.


    The old woman continued to let her energy build, and Faynel almost balked as it began concentrating around her. Sorynel could likely kill the younger girl without moving, and everyone present knew it. But Faynel stood her ground, and waited.


    After another several tense moments, the pressure spread out again, and Sorynel smiled. ¡°Dear, where has this bravery been hiding all of these years? For you, if nothing else, I will answer the boy¡¯s questions.¡±


    ¡°Then I want to know about The Trials. What is our goal in them? Is there a way out? Can I prevent my people from coming here?¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­ I¡¯ll answer your question, but I will ask mine first. I think you¡¯ll be interested to answer,¡± she shot Faynel a look which broached no argument. ¡°What is the path to power in your own world?¡±


    Mason¡¯s mouth fell open and his mind reeled at the question. It was¡­ uncomfortable to even think of his world, but to think about the path to power made him feel deeply unsettled. He was about to protest that there was none, but his mind began digging at the question.


    His thoughts bounced between images of King Arthur, the Pope, the president, MMA fighters and finally even banking executives. The path to power in his world? They were many and varied, but were any of them real? Surely Mason had never taken a step on any of them.


    There was no notable wealth in his family. He would never even hold a small political office. The idea of rallying a militia force was almost laughable. There was absolutely no way he¡¯d become a priest or a minister.


    He did know how to code programs though. Alright, he knew how someone more talented and experienced might go about it. That was power, right? He could make machines perform tasks to his benefit. Should he try to explain programming? Should he call it technomancy?


    Finally he looked up at the woman, and saw her studying him carefully. What was it that allowed her to influence her people? What allowed her to travel so far and so freely? That was her path to power. She used the source energy of the world to bring herself strength.


    ¡°Community,¡± Mason finally said. He took in the confused look on both women¡¯s faces then. That was satisfying. ¡°Humans on Earth don¡¯t grow very strong in the best of scenarios. We¡¯re vulnerable, and have no spells. But when we come together, we pass knowledge among one another to create great technology. We built great economies so that we can compile our labor to provide as much as possible for our people.¡±


    ¡°These are common skills, surely,¡± she said, unimpressed. ¡°But I¡¯ll be interested to see what shape that takes in The Trials. And your little gathering of souls within you seems to be a natural continuation of that tendency, too. Tell me then, what of your technology? What can you produce without magic to fuel it?¡±


    Mason shook his head, ¡°We flew through the skies, wielded weapons so powerful that we refused to use them on one another for fear of ending the world in a day. I could send a message to a million people in every corner of the world with just one device that fits in my hand. But if I were to explain it to you, most of us were like spell rune users. We took the simplified versions of the incredible things the explorers used, and benefitted.¡±


    Nodding solemnly, Sorynel said, ¡°A strange world you come from. These terrifying weapons-¡± she considered her thoughts, and changed her tract, ¡°The Trials exist to create those in each person. We do not know the purpose, or the power behind it. But something great has brought us to this world and mandated we grow stronger. It threatens us, too.¡±


    Faynel picked up the story then, ¡°There are attacks. You saw the hive appeared where our paths once were. That was a Trial as we understand it. Another world brought here to challenge us. Some challenges are easier than others, but many of us believe that there are dangers we haven¡¯t even begun to uncover.¡±


    ¡°Nobody has explored far past the city. The Corrosi and the goblins filled our people with fear, and our city, as well as my own strength, has served to convince the council that they can hide and pretend like nothing is different here,¡± explained Sorynel. ¡°I worry that when the real challenges come, few of us will be strong enough to survive.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you demand they begin training everyone in the city?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°They fear me, but they do not listen to me without question. I had a difficult decision to make: allow them to die in large numbers, but let the strong be revealed, or protect them, and hope the strong reveal themselves. I worry constantly that my intervention was done in error. New Marra is too cautious. Even among those who claim to be Darkest Night, I do not believe they are bold enough.


    ¡°There are secrets to be found in this plane. Secrets that will reveal more about The Trials, and how to overcome them. But I cannot find them myself without letting our people die from mana starvation, and our people have not yet convinced themselves that the risks are worth it.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you went out of your way to train me?¡± Mason asked, uncertain if he wanted the answer.


    Sorynel just laughed though, gently, ¡°I am going to share with you what I can because you are willing and seem able to accept it. Nothing more, nothing less. If you grow strong through that, and choose to do great things with it, then you will have my gratitude. But I make no expectations.¡±


    <hr>


    The snow hung in the air and the adventurer Sorynel froze in place. This was why a wise adventurer did their research before tackling a source point. What should she do?


    A flex of a muscle pushed her right leg down, and she felt her body somersaulting forward. Suspended, floating, she reached back into her pack and grabbed a hook, and very carefully she thrust it forward and dug its teeth into the snow.


    She grit her teeth as she felt the hook slip against the frozen earth, and watched the snow she truck begin to float and hover. The strike had disrupted her momentum and she began to float forward, but at least she hadn¡¯t hit the ground harder. If she began to drift up¡­


    Soryenl struck again, and this time the teeth of the hook bit. She pulled with all her might and felt herself shifting toward the ground even as the hook broke itself free. That was okay. This was alright. Her body squashed gently into the powdery snow and she shivered at the cold against her exposed skin. She had protections against the wind, but the water content of snow could still sap the heat from her body.


    Gently now, she tried to bury the hook again. All she needed was to find a root, something to really latch onto so she could control her momentum.


    This was the game of Source Points though, and she revelled in the unique challenge. Force. An appropriately vague term for a source point with all manner of strange abilities. Including, obviously, the absence of natural forces like gravity. The effects may not last in this area for long, but they could be deadly for exactly that reason. If an immune creature walked by before she could hook herself, she¡¯d be nearly defenseless.


    Or if she floated too high before the effects faded- well she¡¯d find herself meet the ground more quickly than she¡¯d like.


    For now though, she was just uncomfortably drifting inches above the ground, growing colder by the moment. That was okay. Drifting slowly was fine. If she were drifting quickly, or upwards, there would be something to worry about. She just didn¡¯t like not being anchored to the ground, but it was freeing in a way.


    It could even be considered fun. More fun though if she could find somewhere for the hook to grab onto. She smashed it again into to ground and hit sooner than she expected. The shock jarred her arm, and she felt herself spinning in the air. As she flipped upside down, she lowered a leg against the ground to stop the revolution, and sighed. This was tedious.


    Completely upside down, she looked around for something she might be able to drag herself to, but then groaned. She had company. It was a thick, furred thing, clearly a fat rodent of some sort, but it scurried across the ground without a care in the world. And it wasn¡¯t lost on the adventurer that it seemed completely unaffected by the loss of gravity.


    She readied her hook. There was no telling what it was, exactly. The species and beasts around a source point were many and varied, and often developed or lost abilities without any warning. And that meant there was no way to know whether or not something was dangerous usually until it was too late.


    And the furry thing was scurrying closer to her. Sniffing at her. It would stop, sniff a few times, then dart a few inches away and repeat. But it was close. Maybe close enough to hit with the hook. Maybe safe enough to ignore. But it was sniffing at her. Closer and closer. And nearing her face with its long snout and mysterious powers.


    Her head was tilted completely back to watch it, and it scurried right up to her face, sniffing at her forehead.


    Then it bit her on the nose!


    She immediately swatted out with the hook and startled it. The quick motion sent her spinning in the weightlessness, and the thing started squealing. And then it cast a spell. Force erupted out of it all at once, and suddenly the adventurer wasn¡¯t just spinning, she was flying and twisting in the air.


    At least she wasn¡¯t raising into the sky, but she was crashing in an unknown direction at high velocity. Something struck her- or she struck it- and she grimaced as she flew through the tops of several bushes, activating her innate defenses too late.


    The bushes meant roots though, so even as their twiggy branches slashed at her skin, she stretched out the hook and managed to snag it on the base of a bush after several failed attempts. The change in momentum almost pulled her arm from its socket and she cried out, but at least she managed to hold on while she came to a halt.


    The adventurer took a deep breath and counted her blessings just in time for gravity to switch back on. She crashed to the ground in a tangle of bushes and swore as she rolled and pulled to try and free her many layers of clothing, pack, hook, and rope from the winter plants.


    As she stood, she knew she was a disheveled mess, but she paid no mind to it. Adventuring had nothing to do with looking good. Well, not this far from the cities, anyhow. She looked about, and judging by the broken bush branches she could spot, she retraced her path back up the mountain. She hoped the gravity wouldn¡¯t switch off as she marched.


    Not long after, she had made it back to where she had been, and she angrily began to dig at a burrow in the cliff face that she presumed the furred creature had hidden in. ¡°I¡¯m gonna use your fur as a hat you little cretin!¡± she screamed in irritation. There were still twigs in her furs and though they didn¡¯t really hurt, they weren¡¯t supposed to be there!


    What Source Master would take an insult from a tiny little rodent? Another swing of her hook cracked open the roof of its hideaway and she dropped the hook to reach in and grab it. She could feel it squirming, but it wouldn¡¯t dare release a wave of force like that in such a small space.


    It struggled in her hands as she tried to pull it out, but a crash behind her restored her to her senses. She let go and felt it scratch ineffectively at her glove, then she quickly picked up her hook, stood, and ran as the ground continued to shake below her.


    ¡°Mana damn me,¡± she swore as she looked behind her.

 ~ Fifty-Two - Indiscriminate Force (Six)

    She had known it was a golem from the first sound it made, but seeing really was believing. Nearly thirty feet of stone rose and moved toward her on its own, and she was beginning to believe she had angered the source on this mountain somehow.


    It was a golem of the traditional type. Dumb, disproportionate, vaguely humanoid, and gigantic. Similar beings formed often at the most dangerous parts of Source Points. As the blood of fallen adventurers soaked into the land, it formed a pattern for the source magic to flow into, animating the stones themselves.


    Again, she thought of the fool priests with their tales. Many of them still believed these golems were a distant relative of the Marran people. She¡¯d spit on a priest if she heard him say that to her face though. A Marran was mana incarnate. They were the living vessels of the great Source Magic which brought about all life.


    These golems were just dirt with too much power soaked into them. A talented specialist could make one, and one much more effective than the giant hulking beasts that occurred naturally.


    The lumbering giant could have been drawn by either the force spell of the rodent, or the natural energy which had turned off gravity in the region, but as it moved slowly without direction, Sorynel felt confident that it wasn¡¯t after her directly. She crouched low and began to circle around it, with the hook in hand and her magical weapon in the other.


    Small pockets of force energy bubbled and burst on the body of the golem as it walked, and each time one built and bloomed the snow trickling from the sky would swirl violently away. Sorynel regretted that she didn¡¯t feel confident in subduing the construct non-violently; the energy bursting out of it would have made excellent research material.


    Her movements were tense as she closed in on it. Getting hit by just one of those bursts could have unpredictable effects. She waited until she saw energy dispersing across its body before rushing forward and throwing herself onto the golem¡¯s back. Sorynel jammed her hook quickly into a crevice between two segments and held on tightly as the beast began to shake and roar.


    ¡°Calm down you mindless automaton!¡± she shouted as she empowered her weapon. The wooden rod she used as a channel now maintained a nasty-looking barbed head of mana, and she plunged it into a nearby joint, then poured mana in to stretch and expand the spikes.


    Her arm cracked backwards as a burst of force launched the weapon from its body, and she almost lost her grip on the hook as she cringed in pain from her shoulder being pulled. Before she could strike again, she felt the air ripple about her and hastily pulled her climbing hook out just in time to be thrown to the ground by a wave of gravity.


    If the beast had been intelligent, there¡¯s a good chance it would have immediately crushed her under its heavy stone feet. Things as they were, though, it stomped around and ended up several feet from where she lay trapped by the weight of gravity against the snowy ground.


    The flakes of snow in the air seemed to all condense at once into pockets of hail, and they rained down on her as she struggled to move. The gravity well the golem had formed was powerful, and she struck up half a dozen reinforcement and strengthening spells just to give her the freedom movement to slowly drag herself along the ground.


    She grit her teeth as she moved, hoping urgently that the golem didn¡¯t notice her energy signature through its gravity well and try to finish her off. She was glad those three travellers hadn¡¯t come this way, now. An effect like this was enough to flatten a person by itself, and only the myriad spells Sorynel had at her disposal allowed her to withstand it.


    The construct continued to trample the ground at random as Sorynel pulled herself inch by inch away from it, and she didn¡¯t dare to even breathe for several minutes before she felt herself partially freed of the gravity well. Even then, she was hesitant, and she worked even harder to drag herself out from under its effects.


    Finally free, she stood and turned. She was past the golem, and it was too dumb to know to chase her, but there were an endless number of reasons why she felt inclined to resume the fight. Most notably, she¡¯d be coming back this way, and ending the brute now would prevent her having to fight it unaware later. But there were also many people who would reward her for any cores she could remove from the golem.


    Swearing, she moved swiftly to the cliff face and began to climb. She¡¯d have to strike it hard and quickly to prevent getting trapped in the gravity well again, but she had methods of doing so. She moved steadily up the cliff face, deftly locating hand and footholds in its icy face, and creating them whenever they were lacking by mixing concentrated fire magic with the raw strength from her spell reinforced body.


    By the time she turned to check her progress, she was already three quarters of the way up the cliff face toward the next path. She looked upwards- it was awfully tempting to just keep going and bypass the golem altogether¡­


    But she looked back down, and saw it ambling about, trampling the snow into an icy sheet, ripping up weather-worn bushes, and threatening to cause rockslides or avalanches given enough time and force magic. Handling threats like these was practically her job, she reminded herself. The Source Points were generous to her, and as a Marran, it was her responsibility to prevent magic from going awry like this.


    Plus, it would be really satisfying to turn the golem into a pile of rubble.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Hanging onto the cliff face by the hook in her one hand, she held the thick wooden catalyst in her other and began shaping the mana. This time, it took the form of a gigantic, spiked mallet. It wasn¡¯t the most mana efficient weapon, and would likely be worthless in combat with anything normal sized, but¡­


    Here goes nothing!


    She launched herself off of the cliff face with considerable alacrity and strength, and drew up the mallet with both hands. The golem¡¯s gravity well would catch her and speed up her acceleration, and the resulting force would shatter it.


    In seconds she was crashing down, and she roared as she mallet crashed into the golem¡¯s head. Rubble began to fly everywhere and the mallet kept moving, drawn down by the gravity well even as the golem split and crumbled and exploded. But as the stone was pulverized, the force in it was freed, and the resulting energy seemed to activate another spell.


    Hastily, she was flung back up into the air, almost as fast as she had fallen, and she deactivated the mallet as she flailed to balance herself in the air, trying to orient herself for a proper fall, hoping desperately that she would find a soft bank of snow to catch her fall.


    But as she rose, she realized that her momentum was slowing, but not at quite the right speed. There was no curve of her ascent, and it began to look like she was drifting. Like gravity had been turned off again. Which it had.


    That sent her into a worse panic than being launched had. If she floated too high she was good as dead. She might not even land back on the mountain. She released her mana desperately behind her into a series of fire blasts, trying to create a propelling force enough to reverse her momentum and bring her back to the ground, but it was hardly enough.


    The hook.


    She reached back and unlatched it from where she had secured it to her bag and hastily tethered a cord of mana to it before launching it as hard as she could toward a wooden plant. There was a chill in her then that was not from the weather. From the multiple defensive spells to the unwieldy mallet and fireblasts and now a thirty foot mana tether, she was running low on her easily drawn on reserves.


    Panic kept her focused though despite the wave of weakness, and she willed the hook to reach its mark. It latched onto a delicate looking branch on a tall shrub and she cheered internally. A sharp jerk secured the hook, but she could feel the branch ready to give way and knew that finesse was a requirement now.


    Sorynel was still drifting, up and away from the mountain, but with this hook she had a chance to fix that. But should she try to reel herself in gently, or pull hard and try and adjust her momentum? Something shifted in the air, and her instincts kicked in. She pulled hard and felt the hook snap just after she began moving back toward the mountain pass, and only a moment later gravity seemed to restore.


    Instinct seemed to be on her side. The adventurer crashed to the ground and barely managed to catch at the edge of a rounded drop on the side of the mountain, and she gasped and shuddered as the force of the fall knocked the wind out of her. She was in a great deal of pain, but hardly safe, so despite it she pulled herself up through the snow and onto the path, then rolled onto her back and took a deep breath.


    She was alive, she reminded herself. And then she grinned. What an experience! How many Fundamental Force Golems of that caliber had been taken down single-handedly, without even basic force rune mastery? It was possible she was the only adventurer to be able to boast of that feat.


    And she had basically flown! Or levitated? Either way, it had been exhilarating.


    She closed her eyes to pull more mana from her deep reserves, restoring her wounds and washing away the exhaustion. This was what being an adventurer was about. This was why she did it. For the sheer thrill of the challenge.


    And then something furry bit her nose and she screamed in fury.


    <hr>


    It took most of an hour to salvage the golem cores from the disparate pieces of wreckage left from the fight. If it hadn¡¯t exploded, she might have been able to gather them all at once. But such were the costs of a good battle.


    The next several hours saw her dealing with a variety of traps. There were plenty more Immovable Eyes, and another weaker golem which she dealt with through ranged attacks and a well placed rockslide. She had moved deftly through a stretch of terrain which saw bursts of force launching her back and forth, chased off at least half a dozen of the furry rodents, and even navigated a break in the path which required her to leap from suspended boulder to suspended boulder over a drop of several hundred feet.


    All said and done, it was a rather enjoyable journey.


    But as much as she enjoyed the raw an unexpected challenges of the journey itself, the destination was what made the effort worthwhile. In time, she summited the mountain, and was treated to a sight of what looked like a tremendous black and blue rupture suspended in the sky, sealed through powerful barriers, and housed in an ornate temple of carved marble.


    Enchantments kept the snow from sticking to the marble steps before the temple, and she walked them reverently, basking in the intensity of the power of the source point, even subdued as it was by the heavy magical barriers.


    She looked to see tablets on pedestals lining each side of the path. They were embellished with complex runes that invoked images of the bravery of the old heroes to first conquer the source point, of the difficulties and costs of bringing up a priesthood to build the temple. Names on each tablet spoke of those who had died bringing honor to the point, and though she would not remember them, she made sure to read each one, sounding them out quietly.


    In the middle of the path was a final tablet with an embellishment that could have been seen from a hundred feet away if looked at directly. It invoked a sense of gold lettering on black, and she could almost see the rune shift into the images it described.


    This was a shrine to the Fundamental Source of Indiscriminate Force. A power mighty enough to shift gravity itself, to pull and repel any object. The god the priests claimed created this source point had mastered Force so mightily that he could even draw mana from the stars themselves, and it was that gift which empowered him to leave this mark on the world.


    She knelt then and bowed her head, feeling the Source speaking in her mind. She loosed her mana into a veil around her, and felt it mingling with the raw magic, observed the way it transformed under its effects. Already she knew she¡¯d be able to replicate some of those effects. Given a few days with one of the golem cores, she would have been able to draft up a simple rune to work from.


    But to kneel before the Source Point itself was a treasure unto her very soul itself.


    Sorynel sat, unmoving, contemplative, before the Source for nearly an hour. Her wounds had been healed, her body, mind, and soul felt enriched by the power she nearly worshipped. It would be no challenge to stay here, immobile, for days.


    But a roar, a screeching, jarring roar that grated on the ears and would unsettle even the most stalwart drew her from her reverie. She immediately stood and pivoted, heavy wooden catalyst in hand, and began to curse her luck.

 ~ Fifty-Three - Indiscriminate Force (Seven)

    ¡°Just my luck one of you mana-hungry cretins would be around,¡± Sorynel lashed her catalyst like a whip and mana flew from it, forming rapidly into a sword. Rather than flashing about unsteadily like when she summoned the hammer, this time her weapon solidified into a glistening blue steel.


    She took her stance before the monstrosity even had a chance to approach, and shot forward like a rocket toward it. ¡°Goddamn priests!¡± she yelled in her rage as she lunged.


    The monstrosity creaked and moved in jagged motions, and shrieked all the while. It glimmered with the same energy waves as a golem, but its stone skin was clearly chiseled and sculpted to perfection, and not only was it carved with sigils and covered in embellishments, its movements formed runes almost incidentally.


    It countered her charge with an upraised hand, which sent a patch of force to capture Sorynel and knock her to the side. She, however, was ready. When the force caught her in midair, she spun, dislodging herself from its grasp. The moment she landed she lunged again, slashing out and landing a solid strike on the construct.


    ¡°I fucking hate constructs,¡± she swore as she quickly dived around it to avoid getting caught in another force spell. She struck heavily at the back of one of its legs, but rather than falter, it simply struck back at her before she dodged.


    Sorynel continued to rush around it, marking several points on the ground with an X that she drew with her finger. In her mind, she pictured mana condensing from the air on each of those points, but with her body she continued to strike out and dodge as the construct turned to keep up with her.


    Jerky as its movements were though, the construct was less than predictable. Suddenly, it turned the opposite direction, and lashed out with one of its long, stone arms. The attack caught Sorynel in the chest, and she crumpled to the ground and rolled away. When she looked up though, she was grinning.


    ¡°Burn.¡±


    Energy erupted from each of the points she had marked on the ground, and an inferno rose into a pillar of flame from that point. She didn¡¯t trust the fire to stop the construct though, instead she cast another spell while she looked on.


    Massive metal chains rose from the ground beyond the enchanted walkways, and Sorynel took a deep breath to move more mana from her reserves into her active body, and began pulling the energy from the air as well. The chains continued to rise, and she willed them to come forward and wrap around the pillar of flame even as it began to wane.


    As soon as she could see again, she clenched her first and the chains tightened, squeezing the charred stone construct in a restrictive vice. Sorynel¡¯s eyes flashed with violence as she willed the chains to squeeze tighter and tigheter. She knew better than to let a construct like this live long. They were designed as powerful guardians, but the centuries of sitting near the Source made them potent threats.


    The chains began to crack the construct¡¯s defenses, and Sorynel screamed with determination as she forced them to constrict until the being crushed and crumpled.


    She stared at the pile of rubble for a long moment to be sure there weren¡¯t going to be any surprises, and when it seemed certainly done with, she collapsed to the ground and began to take several deep breaths.


    ¡°That,¡± she panted, ¡°was easier than I expected.¡±


    With a smile, she then glanced around cautiously to make sure she hadn¡¯t brought more bad luck upon herself. There was enough mana in the air for her to recharge her mana stores easily, so she wasn¡¯t worried about another encounter, but casting that hard and quickly was exhausting.


    Her eyes tracked back up to the glowing Source Point above the temple. Now she could have some alone time with it.


    <hr>


    Mason listened patiently as Old Lady Sorynel told her story. There was a winding, twisting feeling inside of him that he couldn¡¯t place, but as he listened, drenched in the woman¡¯s powerful energy, it was as if he was living her story himself.


    He could feel the cold of the winter paths and feel the panic of being caught out by the mysterious Force spells. He could hear the sound of the priests¡¯ construct shrieking, and feel the exhaustion of the chains used to crush it where it stood.


    The only thing he couldn¡¯t quite make out was the appearance of the Source Point itself. Of course, he could feel the reverence Sorynel held for it, and understand the awe-inspiring might. Even without magic, all he had to do was imagine something that could make this powerful woman kneel and he could understand its might.


    For Faynel, though, the story brought on a wave of nostalgia. She had been raised on the tales of her grandmother¡¯s heroic quests, and she lived knowing the ways in which her world was shaped by these great source points.


    Hearing the way Sorynel remembered the events was always awe inspiring- she was truly passionate about the life she had lived.


    Another hour passed as Sorynel began to explain what she had understood of the Fundamental Force. A lot of the information was esoteric and difficult to comprehend. She talked a great deal about the way it felt to cast a certain spell, or the images she¡¯d conjure to draw up a rune. Though Mason didn¡¯t quite understand how he could use those ideas for his own benefit, he began to realize that his concept of empowering and unleashing the converted energy of a Fundamental Rune were almost childish.


    Runecraft was looking to be an incredibly complicated skill.


    But the old woman didn¡¯t send the two away empty-handed that night.


    ¡°Move aside the blankets by my seat. There you are, both of you.¡±


    They reached under the blankets to find two small chests. They were simple wooden things, with iron bands and no lock. The young looked at the old expectantly before she urged them to open their respective boxes.


    In each of them was the same thing. A heavy wooden looking rod, and a small, clear orb, no larger than a pearl. Mason looked at both objects, puzzled, but Faynel shouted and almost dropped the orb.


    ¡°Grandmother, you can¡¯t truly be passing this on!¡±


    ¡°I can, my dear,¡± the woman said solemnly.


    Mason furrowed his brows, ¡°I don¡¯t actually know what this orb is, I¡¯m sorry. But the rod, is that your weapon from the story?¡±


    ¡°The catalyst for it, yes. The orb though, well, I¡¯ll let Faynel explain that to you, since I¡¯m apparently not supposed to be passing it along at all.¡±


    Faynel¡¯s eyes were still wide, ¡°These are her teachings. She¡¯s been working on these manuscripts for¡­¡± she looked up in awe at her grandmother, ¡°my entire life.¡±


    A smile passed between the generations there that almost made Mason uncomfortable to witness.


    ¡°Well, they¡¯re doing no good sitting in boxes, now are they? And you two are my proteges, correct? Isn¡¯t that what we all agreed on while you were learning to be brave a few hours ago?¡±


    Faynel blushed at the crude description of their confrontation. ¡°But shouldn¡¯t you wait to pass these on? I mean, you¡¯ve known Mason for only a few days¡­¡±


    ¡°I knew the children in that cave for a few minutes,¡± the whole mound of cushions and blankets shook as she shrugged. ¡°I am very very old. I think you forget that sometimes. It has not made me a more patient woman, and watching Source Magistry fade from our society has made me an angry woman. If either of you two can do something to revive the techniques before I fade into mana, I can die a little less bitter.¡±


    Slowly comprehending, Mason¡¯s smile grew, ¡°This is an amazing gift. What if I can use this to help my entire race survive?¡± His smile faded and he asked nervously, ¡°Would¡­ would that be alright? That wouldn¡¯t be disrespectful to your gift?¡±


    Sorynel waved him off, ¡°You cannot give someone power and then try to dictate how you use it. You should take that as permission as well as a warning, human.¡±


    Mason nodded. ¡°It could be dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Very,¡± both women said in unison.


    ~~


    Before setting out for the evening, Faynel taught Mason how to reach into the orb with his mana in order to see its message. It was like reading a book in his mind, and once he understood the fundamentals of it, the process came remarkably easy and there was luckily no language barrier.


    However, if he had thought the old woman¡¯s explanations of source were incomprehensible, her recorded history was so dense that he felt like he understood less the more he read.


    Still, the two sat silently while Sorynel watched and began to muddle their way through the teachings.


    Resolved to study it all carefully over the coming weeks, the two said their farewells and made plans to return in a few days. After the previous night¡¯s attack, they didn¡¯t want to stay much longer than they had to. They chatted eagerly about the story after they had passed the threshold of the building. Mason couldn¡¯t believe the spells Sorynel had claimed to use, and Faynel couldn¡¯t believe they had actually been given her full teachings so soon.


    ¡°You have a knack for making people want to help you, Mason,¡± Faynel said with surprising candor as they walked down the main street toward Mason¡¯s home.


    Mason was sensitive to the fact that Faynel walked closely to him. The effects of the mana mingling had almost entirely worn off- no longer could he imagine her feelings and thoughts like he had- but their first week of friends had gone remarkably well. There was a closeness there, he would readily admit, but interspecies friendships were something to tread carefully with.


    ¡°I¡¯m lucky for that. It¡¯s probably because I treat people like equals, rather than worshipping them just because they¡¯re strong,¡± he smiled as he nudged her.


    ¡°Okay, but did you listen to the story? That construct would have been strong enough to take on pretty much all of Torysen¡¯s Roving Band at once. Grandmother Sorynel defeated it with effectively a single spell. You can¡¯t say I don¡¯t have some reason to be a little nervous¡­¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Faynel paused, and Mason watched her as her eyes narrowed and her hand went to her weapon. Reaching for his own, Mason followed her stare, and saw a figure lain in shadows down the way. Even from here and in the low visibility, the body looked injured.


    They heard a groan, and then the figure put a hand to the ground and pushed himself to his feet. ¡°Mason, I¡¯ve been waiting for you.¡±


    It would have sounded more threatening if Mason hadn¡¯t moved close enough to know what he was seeing. Shayjol stood before him, clutching a wound in his side and covered in blood. He looked haggard, as if he were on the edge of consciousness. Instinctively, Mason reached out to offer a hand, but Shayjol backed up at his approach.


    ¡°Shayjol, are you okay? Who did this to you?¡± Mason asked, but glanced back at Faynel. She still had her hand on her sword, and a serious, uncaring look on her face.


    Shayjol shook his head, ¡°You need to get out of the city, now. It didn¡¯t take much for me to guess where you¡¯d be at this time of night, and they¡¯ll probably be patrolling around here soon.¡±


    ¡°Who? I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. I haven¡¯t seen you since we got to the city!¡¯


    Shay coughed and nearly doubled over in pain, ¡°I told you I would tell whoever I could about the Demon of the Darkest Night. You helped us find the Biord city, and got me out of the prison. But my friends think you¡¯re bad news. I tried to find you before they did last night, but they got to you first.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Mason almost yelled, his patience wearing thin.


    ¡°My friends. One of the guys you beat up. He was, I mean, is, the son of Councilman Manlen. The city isn¡¯t happy. A lot of people are saying you used soul magic to make them fight each other, and that they barely got away.¡± Shayjol began coughing harder then, and collapsed back on the ground.


    Mason began to bend over to help but Faynel grabbed his arm tightly, ¡°We¡¯ve gotta go, Mason.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t! Shayjol and his family helped me a lot, I owe him. Let¡¯s just carry him together and¡­¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Shay shouted, wincing as he did, ¡°they won¡¯t hurt me again. I¡¯ve got a potion back at my parents. Just get out of here before they show up, okay? Stay off the main road.¡±


    ¡°Fuck this.¡± Mason turned and looked right in Faynel¡¯s eyes. ¡°Are we in trouble?¡±


    She hesitated, but then gave him a sharp nod. ¡°If they¡¯re attacking again, they must have something they didn¡¯t have last night. Guards? Better weapons? More numbers? I¡¯m sure Grandmother¡¯s story was invigorating but unless you¡¯ve got a spell to pull out of your ass we might be screwed if we get caught.¡±


    ¡°Good thing you¡¯re fast then, huh?¡± He turned to Shayjol, ¡°Okay, I¡¯m going. Thank you.¡± He wanted to help Shayjol. Ought to help Shayjol. But if Faynel was worried- He still remembered the feeling of cold steel parting his side, of how warm the blood had been as it poured from the wound. ¡°If more attack us than you can handle, you run. Your agility stat will keep you safe and you can get backup.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I think is best,¡± she said succinctly.


    With no choice but to agree, he motioned for her to lead, and they doubled back on their path and began running down some side streets Mason hadn¡¯t yet explored. He wished he were familiar with the city. On his own, he doubted he could get back to his home without getting lost while keeping to the main road. Down these side-streets he was hopeless.


    Still, he kept pace with every turn Faynel took. He knew she wasn¡¯t running at her full speed and almost wished she would. Maybe he could disguise himself alone, and she could run on and be safe. All he had to do was head to the city walls, and he could go live out in the trees until things had settled down.


    But every few feet Faynel looked back at him to make sure he was there and close. Her hand kept moving to her weapon when she scanned alleys and buildings, and he knew that in her mind she was on an escort mission. There¡¯d be no escaping her, not easily.


    ¡°You have your staff and blades, right?¡± Faynel asked as they zipped around a corner, nearly bowling over two lovers entangled in a dark alley.


    ¡°Right. I wasn¡¯t going to go out unprepared to fight.¡±


    ¡°I meant more like,¡± she looked back at him, ¡°is there anything in your home you¡¯d need?¡±


    Mason thought. He had his bag with him, for what it was worth. Most of it was filled with snacks and artifacts he didn¡¯t know what to do with. He didn¡¯t own much. ¡°No, but why?¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t go back there,¡± the two of them nearly jumped over a wooden cart that had been blocking three quarters of an alley, ¡°so we¡¯re deviating.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the councilwoman¡¯s daughter, Faynel!¡± Mason shouted ahead to her, ¡°Are you certain you want to be helping me if the city is upset with me?¡±


    Her shoulders rolled into a shrug as she ran, ¡°I was the one who beat those guys up, and they were the ones that attacked you. I didn¡¯t join the Roving Bands because I liked how the city was managed. Most of us are more Darkest Night than Marran anyways.¡±


    ¡°The Trials said that about Shayjol as well.¡±


    She slowed a little as she processed that. ¡°Unusual. But he did give us a heads up, so perhaps¡­¡±


    Faynel grew quiet as they began to hear the sound of other feet and some shouts, but resumed her fast pace. They were coming to a crossroads and if they could blow through it quickly enough they might avoid detection. Mason activated Focus and tried to will himself to move faster, and the two of them crossed through to the other side in a heartbeat.


    There were more shouts, but neither of them could make out what was being said.


    They passed down several more alleys and Mason began to wonder where in the city they could possibly be. Had it always been this large? Were they going in circles? He needed a pathfinding skill immediately.


    He hadn¡¯t thought much of the city before this point, but looking around now, it felt ominous. There was something about being known, and unwelcome, that made his stomach turn. Could he blame them for hating him like this? It wasn¡¯t all of them. Even Torysen, who had the most reason to hate him, seemed to be on his side.


    But as far as he knew, there was an angry mob out to get him. He felt less like a Demon and more like Frankenstein¡¯s Monster. Though maybe neither of those were good.


    ¡°Mason,¡± Faynel said quietly as she slowed almost to a halt in front of him.


    In unison, they pressed themselves up against the wall of the alley and peered ahead. Those were definitely people who looked like they were on a manhunt. And definitely armed. Mason flicked between Focus and Mana Sight to get a better look, and neither were good.


    The ruffians from the night before looked like untrained thugs. These looked more like off-duty guards. They were bigger, glowed brighter, and wore actual equipment, even if it wasn¡¯t anything fancy. Were these the same people they had heard walking around before, or a different group?


    ¡°I have a skill, a Mana Art. Shadowstalk. It upgraded from my stealth skill. I can wrap mana around me in a shadow and make myself invisible, and I think it might make me harder to see even for Mana Sight.¡±


    She looked at him for a long moment, ¡°That¡¯s a pretty potent skill if it works. Do you have a plan?¡±


    ¡°Do you think I could wrap us both in it so we could pass by undetected?¡±


    She shrugged, so he tried. Since it was his first time activating Shadowstalk in a while, and he hadn¡¯t really gotten proficient with it in the first place, it took a great deal of concentration. He could feel his mana forming around him, not like it did with the glamour but somehow in a thicker mesh. Somehow, that reflected vision.


    He heard Faynel gasp softly, and grinned. He grabbed her hand and tried to force the mana mesh over her skin as well.


    ¡°Mason, wait,¡± she said in a rather tight, uncomfortable sounding voice. When he didn¡¯t pull back immediately, she pulled away physically. ¡°That¡¯s um. That¡¯s. Don¡¯t do that with anyone you don¡¯t trust, okay? It was¡­ We need a different plan.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure what had just happened, but Marrans were strange and he was willing to accept that. ¡°Okay, what if I just cross into the other alley and then cause a huge ruckus? They¡¯ll be distracted and you can escape.¡±


    Faynel¡¯s glare could have cut Mason to pieces. ¡°How about I make the ruckus, and you head down three streets by yourself, and I¡¯ll catch up by another route? I¡¯m faster, so I¡¯m sure I can get past them.¡±


    That didn¡¯t seem like a good idea, but Mason also didn¡¯t think Faynel would be attacked if she weren¡¯t with him. ¡°Okay, fine. But you had better be careful.¡±


    <hr>


    Mason grew wary the moment he slipped away from Faynel and into the shadow of the night. It didn¡¯t help that as soon as he did, she darted off much faster than she had been moving when they ran together. He appreciated her help, and almost definitely needed it, but there was a split in his mind over whether he was willing to drag her into his mess intentionally.


    At the edge of the alley, he slowed. The armed men and women were milling about, chatting quietly and looking around. None of them looked particularly alert, but there was no doubting that they were ready for trouble.


    The checkpoint wouldn¡¯t hold him though, not if he could slip past. And they weren¡¯t milling in the crossroads, just near them. He held his breath, watched, and waited.


    His moment came shortly, and he darted out across the road as silently as he could. The sound of his feet scraping against the paving stones seemed loud enough to him, but nobody looked. He was clear.


    Rather than celebrate, he kept moving. Faynel said she¡¯d meet him several streets down, and he might as well get there sooner than later. He twisted around some boxes piled up in the alley and smacked into something solid.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± he heard as a heavy hand reached down and grabbed him by the shirt.


    A large Marran lifted him into the air and peered closely at him, ¡°Well look what we have here. I didn¡¯t suspect that¡­ Ah bugger!¡±


    Mason jerked to life and kicked against the man, pulling out of his grip thanks more to startling the man than overpowering him. He scrambled back around the boxes and drew the dagger Leornal had found for him, filling it with mana.


    ¡°Oh come on. I¡¯m not gonna hurt you too badly. Guys!¡± the man bellowed loudly, and shouts sounded in response from where Mason had come. He could only hope Faynel had heard as well.


    The man was stomping toward Mason, and he knew he needed to act quickly. He probed the boxes- sturdy, with a bit of heft to them- and had an idea. With a burst of inspiration, and a great deal of Focus, he poured his mana into the one rune he had.


    It was easier than the last time he had cast it to form the rune, and once formed his mana moved into and through it almost gracefully compared to his earlier fumbling attempts.


    But this was a fundamental rune. He didn¡¯t need to shoot force at every wall, just forward. He remembered the first time he had grasped the mana within him, pulling it into his staff. If he could grasp the force energy as it formed, he could use it.


    The issue was containing it. He pumped mana into the rune and force energy began erupting inside of him, bubbling and threatening to blow him to pieces as he fought to control it. He stood up, looked at the pile of boxes, and pressed his hands into them, shoving them and the force energy all at once.


    Like a bullet, the boxes were propelled even as the air swirled around Mason. The crash of the boxes levelling the man and shattering into splinters against the walls of the alley were nearly deafening, but Mason didn¡¯t waste a second. He vaulted over the wreckage and took off at a sprint.


    Footsteps and shouts followed behind him and he tucked his head and ran faster. Where are you, Faynel? He wondered as he passed down street after street, certain without looking that he¡¯d have to engage his chasers before long.


    He finally hazarded a glance behind him and saw his fears confirmed- four people were hot on his trail, and the closest looked determined to close the gap. It was no wonder he had been uncertain how far back they were- this was not an amateur force.


    The alley widened at a point and Mason turned sharply as he broke the threshold. Beyond it was a sort of rough courtyard, really more a wide gap where the lack of city planning had spaced the buildings far apart, but he hoped changing directions might convince his attackers to be cautious and knew he¡¯d rather have room to dodge if they decided otherwise.


    ¡°Mason, to me!¡± he heard, and he looked up at a short rooftop to see a figure cloaked, hooded, and masked beckoning.


    It might be a trap, but fighting four fast fighters on his own wasn¡¯t very appealing either, so he focused in on that point, then launched himself up off a crate and onto the rooftop. The figure took his hand to pull him up the side of the building, and then threw something across the ground. There was a tinkling as the pieces of it scattered about around the rooftop, but Mason was dragged along before he had time to realize they were caltrops.


    ¡°Um¡­ Faynel?¡± Mason asked tentatively as they ran across the rooftops and eventually down back into the alleys.


    The figure punched him, ¡°It¡¯s me you asshole.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Leornal. Why are you here? I mean, thanks.¡±


    Leornal just grunted and handed him a cloak to wear which he donned quickly. He motioned for silence, and then for Mason to follow him. They walked out of the alley and onto a main street, moving slowly with their heads down.


    Whispering, Mason asked, ¡°Are these cloaks supposed to prevent anyone from seeing us?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always something with you, Demon. At least you¡¯ve made it this far into the night without a stab wound. The cloaks will keep us safe, but I¡¯m not going to explain to you the disguise. Just know that some people in the city can move about without worrying anyone will ask them questions. Those people leant me their cloaks.¡±


    They moved slowly down the city street and it made Mason antsy. He knew, too, that they weren¡¯t heading to his house, and he could see the city gates approaching quickly. Perhaps his short stay in New Marra was at an abrupt end.


    At the gates, Mason said nothing as Leornal talked with the guards. One of them rose their voice and showed a bit of steel, but a few words from the archer cowed him, and soon they were passing through without anyone having seen Mason¡¯s face, or, he assumed, his mana.


    They passed by and began circling the city, but they¡¯d not gone very far before Leornal¡¯s hand shot out to stop Mason in his tracks.


    ¡°Human, step back.¡±

 ~ Fifty-Four - Refuge (One)

    A tall woman stepped forward seemingly out of nowhere and looked at the two of them stoically. She was built much like Torysen, but wielded a large battleaxe and heavy studded leather armor.


    ¡°Take off those ridiculous cloaks, Archer. I know who you are, and who you guard.¡± Her voice was commanding and deep.


    Leornal acquiesced and stepped toward her, ¡°Don¡¯t trouble us, Valree. We¡¯ve passed your men, we¡¯re leaving the city. You know as well as I do that the rumors are not true.¡±


    She chuckled mirthlessly, ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn about the rumors. We are not on Marra any longer. Real measures need to be taken. Our enemies need to be treated as such, not spoonfed our greatest secrets and trained by our best warriors. Let me give the boy a real trial, and perhaps we¡¯ll leave him under guard rather than execute him.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that. Captain¡¯s orders.¡± He held his rapier defensively in front of him.


    ¡°Captain, or that traitorous daughter of Leenel¡¯s? And you would really raise steel? Torysen herself couldn¡¯t win in a fair fight against me.¡± The woman hefted her battleaxe, and Mason paled trying to picture how one would deflect a blow from that.


    Leornal didn¡¯t budge. He was in a fencer¡¯s stance, and there was energy pouring off of him as if he were begging for the fight. His voice grew deep, ¡°Who said anything about a fair fight?¡±


    Mason drew his staff at that, and it glistened even in the darkness. Mardun Mana swirled around the gem at its head, forming an eerie haze to mana sight, and the ornate black body of it seemed to catch every bit of light that moved in the nighttime.


    ¡°I mean no harm to anyone in the city, Captain Valree. You heard me talk before the council, and I meant what I said. Just let us pass,¡± he pleaded.


    She shook her head and stepped toward them, ¡°You think I care what your intentions are? You are not of our people, and that means you are the enemy. I will be the one to pass from this plane to the next and win the freedom of New Marra, and if your head is the price to pay I will consider it a fair bargain.¡±


    Mason took a step toward her and saw her eyes lock on him. He matched her stare, and then sprinted as quickly as he could down the length of the city wall.


    Valree¡¯s reaction was slow, but when she realized what had happened she turned to chase after him, only stopping just in time to see Leornal circle around to what would be her backside if she moved. When her attention was back on him, Mason cast Shadowstalk again, and began to move as quickly as he could around and back toward the battle.


    ¡°Tricks. You two play at tricks. Do you not see the Demon you¡¯re supporting? I can feel the soul arts in him. And he¡¯s got the seeds of power, too. That boy is dangerous.¡±


    ¡°So am I,¡± Leornal stated.


    Then he lunged.


    Rather that move the massive, heavy head of the battleaxe, Valree shifted the pole of it to deflect the thrust, and then stepped back to give herself room to swing. Her attack came with a massive rush of air as the bulky axehead moved quicker than it should have, and Leornal barely got down and back fast enough to stay in one piece.


    Three arrows flew down from atop the city wall and Valree jumped back and out of their way to avoid them. She roared in frustration. ¡°Is a fair fight so much to ask?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not in the giving mood.¡±


    The next volley of arrows was scattered about, and Valree had to move quickly out of the way to avoid them. Leornal pressed in and made several attempts at piercing through joints of her armor, but his blows were mostly turned or left no worthwhile mark.


    The arrows and Leornal continued to press the offensive, and the warrior began to look nervous as she was pressed further back toward the tree line. She avoided any heavy strikes with her battleaxe because she knew a well placed arrow would take full advantage of any movement she made that wasn¡¯t defending or dodging.


    Mason meanwhile waited stealthily at the tree line, watching as she got closer to him with each step. One good strike and he could drain her stamina and life, and hopefully distract her enough for Leornal¡¯s blade to find purchase as well.


    He watched, ready to pounce, and felt his blood pumping with the thrill of it. To take her life force would be so satisfying. He hadn¡¯t been able to use that ability in quite some time, and there was a certain savory characteristic¡­


    A hand clamped tightly on his shoulder and pulled him backwards. Before he knew it he was stumbling and half-turned, and a hand caught the wrist that was closest to the staff. A foot came up and kicked his leg so hard that he went down on one knee, and as he fell the attacker¡¯s second arm chopped into his wrist hard enough to make him release the staff, while the first hand took it.


    He was about to reach for his knife when he saw his staff turned and pressed to his forehead, and only then did he look up to see who had so handily disarmed him.


    ¡°Faynel?¡± Mason asked, shocked.


    ¡°You have a sword. Do not give our people more reason to hate you. Valree may be your opponent but she is respected. Watch how Leornal toys with her. Torysen will arrive soon, and she¡¯ll desist, and if we end this encounter without any wounds then nobody will have any further reason to treat you as an enemy.¡± The look in her eyes was reproachful and distant, as if the companionship they had built up had completely broken down.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    But things were as she said. Mason watched through the bushes as Torysen charge in and began to strike with her own magical blade against the heavy battleaxe. The archers stayed their bows, and Torysen¡¯s strength was enough to actually turn direct strikes from Valree¡¯s heavy weapon. Though they clashed fiercely, there was no sense of bloodlust. It was merely a battle of pride.


    A great many people watched interestedly as the fight drew on, but the matter was already settled. Even with reinforcements, Valree would have to step aside. She wasn¡¯t here to start a war.


    Mason muttered as he watched it, just loudly enough for Faynel to hear. ¡°I¡¯m tired of not being strong enough to protect myself. I don¡¯t like that Torysen is fighting my battles for me.¡±


    Taking a languid seat next to him, Faynel sighed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to do more than run around that woman myself. There¡¯s always something to learn, or something to practice. But you did ask to be part of the Roving Band. You didn¡¯t think we could let you handle things on your own after that, did you?¡±


    ¡°I figured you were more likely to try and get rid of me as soon as possible, if we¡¯re being honest. I knew what I was doing when I put Torysen on the spot.¡±


    ¡°She would have accepted you either way. Our band has a certain reputation, after all.¡±


    Mason looked down at her curiously, ¡°What sort of reputation?¡±


    Mischief in her eyes, she explained, ¡°We¡¯re all Darkest Night to some extent. The defense teams love the council, they love the old order. Us Roving Bands tend to be the ones that want to see what The Trials are actually about.¡±


    The fight was wrapping up. The two women had their weapons down, and were locked in a staring contest. Wordlessly, Valree walked from the field, and Mason wondered what the power must feel like to be able to force a warrior like her to back down.


    ¡°Darkest Night, huh?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one to turn an insult into your pride. The Corrosi shame us because we¡¯re hidden from their eyes in the night. They think even our warriors are assassins. You¡¯re pretty good at running and hiding yourself, so they¡¯ll love you as much,¡± she nudged him with her elbow and smiled.


    ¡°Leornal suggested the plan and it seemed like a good one.¡±


    ¡°You were saving your own hide,¡± she accused.


    ¡°Actually, it looks like Torysen did that.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°Form up,¡± Torysen shouted as she passed under the treeline toward where Mason and Faynel were watching.


    Two archers landed on the ground from their perches in the trees, and Sentir and another swordsman slipped out from among the trees as well. Meanwhile, the archers on the wall had donned cloaks and vanished into the city.


    There were eight of them clustered closely together just at the edge of the trees then. Sentir was casting some sort of magic, likely ensuring that they weren¡¯t being observed, and Leornal was breathing heavily from the fight. Torysen though looked commanding as she stood silently before them, her sword still held tightly in an armored hand.


    ¡°Mason, on behalf of New Marra, I apologize for the threat that has fallen over your life this night. You were accepted by the council, and your safety should have been assured, but these are more troubled times than is often readily apparent. Leornal reported to us about the attack yesterday, and rumors spreading throughout the city confirmed it, and gave us cause to believe you would be attacked again tonight.


    ¡°Unfortunately, you are not safe in the city right now. Despite the fact that we have heard rumblings of external threats, it seems a great many people are willing to endanger our relationship with the humans if it means removing what they consider to be a threat in you. Upon your approval, and under the watch of a small force,¡± she gestured at their audience, ¡°I would remove you to a safe location that our band setup in advance in the north.¡±


    Though it sounded like she was requesting his permission, her odd formality and icy stare ensured that Mason had no pretense that this was up for debate. ¡°I appreciate all of your assistance,¡± he looked around, nodding at each person who had been here to defend him, ¡°and promise that I will speak kindly of the Darkest Night when humans finally enter The Trials.¡±


    That was enough for her, and one of the archers clamped shut a small box which Mason guesses was either a transmitter or a recorder. So things have progressed to that point then? He wondered at the difference in their behavior from their earlier encounters. This was a different group. When they had been training and sparring, they¡¯d even been friendly and cheery.


    But even though Mason could hardly see in the dim light under the trees, Mason could see that this escort was made of grim warriors. They moved quickly and efficiently, but kept quiet. Sentir, Leornal, and the other two archers were all especially on edge, drifting apart from the group from time to time to inspect a rustling bush or a far-off noise.


    They kept to no path, but each of them moved as if they had gone this way a dozen times before.


    If he had begun to feel uncomfortable in the city, he was downright unnerved passing through the woods. Dim moonlight struggled to pierce the tree canopy, so he moved mostly from what little vision Focus gave him, hurrying between the moonshafts and mirroring the other¡¯s movements over fallen branches and uneven ground.


    There were more noises out here, too. Mason had run fairly freely in the forest to the south and had barely encountered a handful of rodents. But more things lived here and they had made their marks. Even in the middle of a group of people, he found himself waving off spider-webs, and struggled to keep his footing among the many burrows and holes throughout the ground.


    From time to time, eyes would flash at him from among the branches, often with a flapping of wings or a loud screech as a bird or an owl would take flight away from the group. Faintly, he even suspected he heard howling.


    For the thousandth time, Mason thanked his luck that he had appeared in precisely the way he had in this world. With even a single less advantage, he doubted he¡¯d have survived a week.


    The group trekked on as the night grew deeper and darker. The canopy above let in almost no light now, and Mason was thankful for the abilities that let him track with where his companions were guiding him. But even they seemed to be growing increasingly wary. None of them spoke, and the scouts among the group still investigated possible threats, but with more castings of mana, and far less wandering from the safety of numbers.


    When they passed what Mason suspected was the darkest part of the forest, he saw Sentir move up and tap twice on one of the archers. They made a hand sign in return, and the both of them got Torysen¡¯s attention, and made the same sign. She scowled, and looked back at Faynel, who took Mason¡¯s hand. He was thankful for the darkness as he turned red, but then he felt her pull his hand onto his sword and he realized what she had been doing.


    He gripped the sword, and sensed the group picking up their pace. They accelerated slowly, but after several minutes it seemed almost as if they were jogging in formation. The cold air felt even chillier on the thin layer of sweat forming on the back of his neck. His heart began beating faster even as he grew more wary of their surroundings.


    Awooooooooooooooooooo!


    Mason nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a definite howl, but though some looked that way, Mason followed Sentir¡¯s stare off in the opposite direction. The wind blew and the trees and undergrowth rustled noisily. Mason thought he heard the sound of footsteps quietly beneath the auditory camouflage


    Suddenly from behind Mason there was the chink of metal colliding, and he rapidly turned around, drawing his blade. He was moments behind the rest of the group in getting his weapon out, and took even longer to process what he saw.

 ~ Fifty-Five - Refuge (Two)

    The entire area dissolved into madness as each of the eight Roving Band members drew their weapons and began warding off attackers. Mason drew on his Mana Sight now and could identify the swarm by their weapons. Each of them carried a club or a dagger, but they all glistened with mana reinforcement.


    ¡°Bomb!¡± someone shouted, and Mason saw an orb of mana arc into the sky and into the center of the band. He didn¡¯t waste a moment rushing away from it.


    His escape was blocked by a small, green creature with a club half the size of it, and Mason slashed out quickly with his sword to try to pass it by. To his surprise, the creature was nimble, and batted back his cuts.


    Mason pressed on, and a blast of bright energy illuminated the area. Through washed out vision he saw nearly a dozen of the green creatures, and each of his friends engaged. He blinked as the area grew dark once more, and stepped back hesitantly while his vision returned. The creature in front of him was still pressing forward with the club, so he knocked it aside and tried to kick forward with his foot.


    Kicking worked, and the beast stumbled back, but before Mason could pull his foot back another of them had moved in and slashed at it. He hissed at the pain but just lashed forward with his blade, returning his injury with a cut on the second creature¡¯s shoulder.


    His mind worked in overtime as Focus came on, and he realized that if he had been able to see nearly a dozen of these creatures, there could be double or more that number surrounding them. This was a full ambush.


    Arrows flew and he saw several meet their marks, and off to the side he saw Torysen causing a swath of destruction with her impressive blade and powerful force spells. Nearer to him, Faynel was running in between the creatures, stabbing and slashing at them from their weaker sides and sending many of them into a chattering frenzy.


    The noise of the battle was deafening. His own band was shouting and grunting from effort while the beasts shouted and hollered for their own fun. Mason kept attacking, and managed to force back two more clubbers and stab a third right through the chest- almost on accident.


    He saw more arrows fly, and wanted to cheer at their effectiveness, but then a sharp pain wrenched his shoulder back. ¡°Slings!¡± he shouted, noticing a goblin in the trees aiming him down. A second later it fell back from its branch, gurgling from the shaft through its throat.


    Another pain made Mason spin as something cut at his leg, but by the time he had finished the revolution Faynel had removed that attacker¡¯s head. Pivoting back, Mason deflected another club, received a hit from a second, and kicked and slashed at both of them. His attack had been so ferocious that the two scattered back, but even as they ran, Mason saw more approaching.


    He took a deep breath and reinforced Focus, and with the moment of hesitation between melees, he put his attention on his Force Rune. He had used it once that night to good effect¡­


    It took a great deal less time to cast, and he freed the force energy ahead of him, pushing several of the goblins onto their butts or backs. Faynel and the swordsman he didn¡¯t know well fell upon the downed brutes and began finishing them off before they could recover.


    Another stone flew past Mason¡¯s head and he ducked around a tree to break the line of sight. A goblin had been cowering behind it, disarmed, so Mason kicked it in the face, chasing it away. He leaned back against the tree and took a deep breath. Swearing internally, he focused on the rune again and prepared it for casting.


    He stepped out from behind the tree and felt the energy building up within him. Three casts today- that was pretty damn good, he figured. He held the energy as his eyes darted over the battlefield, looking for somewhere to aim. Finally he found a stretch of newly engaged goblins that he could strike at without hitting any of his allies. He put his hands in front of him and tried to pour the energy in that direction.


    Then a club struck him in the back and he cried out as the force energy within him ran amok. Rather than projecting outward, it erupted like a cluster bomb all around him, and he was battered by it. The force threw him back and forth and he felt his arms twisting around him, then finally was shoved into the tree where he slumped awkwardly to the forest floor.


    Both Faynel and Leornal were upon him in seconds, clearing a space around him as he tried to regain his bearings. He had fucked up, but he wasn¡¯t going to go down pathetically again. His body ached all over, and he felt a strange disconnect between his mind and his mana, but he righted himself on the ground and picked up his sword from where it had fallen.


    He was shaky, but he was standing. He took a step forward and chopped down on a distracted goblin, not quite cleaving its skull but disabling it nonetheless. He almost faltered with his next step as he engaged a clubber, but with each passing moment he felt adrenaline pushing him through the pain.


    That¡¯s right. He was growing. He was stronger now. A Demon doesn¡¯t fall.


    <hr>


    One of the archers had though. When the battle was finally won, everyone had sustained heavy wounds, and an archer that Mason had only talked to twice before had died from multiple stab wounds. Many of the group expressed their remorse, and even Torysen¡¯s eyes seemed to glisten a bit.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mason whispered as he helped the swordsman lift the body on a makeshift stretcher.


    Mason received several solemn but appreciative nods when he volunteered to help, and the swordsman even struck up a conversation as they resumed their march. They hadn¡¯t done anything for the goblin bodies save loot them for what little they carried.


    ¡°He volunteered for this mission, you know.¡±


    Mason looked across the stretcher, ¡°You all know a great deal more of what¡¯s going on than I do. But I¡¯m grateful. Really. This is what my people call above and beyond.¡±


    The swordsman nodded, ¡°I don¡¯t know if helping you is the right thing, but I¡¯ve heard Leornal talk about what you were like in the underground, and I¡¯ve seen you sparring. You¡¯re honorable. I see no reason you should be a martyr.¡±


    They were talking quietly, but still they were loud enough for several people to hear them. Mason saw Leornal shift uncomfortably at mention of his name.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get many compliments like that, so thank you. Um, would you tell me your name?¡± Mason asked sheepishly.


    ¡°Senkar. No real relation,¡± he gestured to the captain.


    Though Mason didn¡¯t completely understand it, he recognized that names were passed down in pieces somehow to children. This seemed like the wrong time to ask about it though.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    He glanced over at the other archer whose name he didn¡¯t know. He¡¯d have to get that at some point. It mattered now that it was clear these people were willing to risk their lives for his safety.


    Every bit of Mason¡¯s body ached, and it felt as if the wounds ran even as deep as that soul place within him from which his mana came. His shoulder especially hurt from the force of the sling, but he felt lucky that despite some blood loss and a great deal of bruising, he walked out of a pretty dangerous fight.


    The whole party was morose. Worse, they were on edge. Nobody had said it, but an organized attack like that so close to the city, and well within Roving territory was unusual. Goblins were known for gathering into tribes, but how had a tribe of that size gone unnoticed?


    Whatever mysteries lurked, they were not enough to force a deviation from the plan. The group walked on for some time, gradually drifting off to the east where the cliffs began to encroach on the forest.


    Their destination turned out to be a long structure behind dense, staged foliage. It was wooden at its core, but reinforced with the Marran tar that Mason had grown to despise the sight of. From a distance, it was barely visible, but up close it was impressively large for an outpost.


    Torysen ordered that the place be surrounded before anyone could enter it. They set down the archer on a stretcher, and the remaining formed up around the building and began to pour mana into it. Sentir made some unusual movements that Mason had learned to ascribe to a form of magic, and then they waited.


    Some time passed, and then Sentir announced conclusively, ¡°It is safe.¡±


    Torysen then stepped up to the black tar, and even without Mana Sight intentionally activated, Mason could see flashes from where she undid some sort of enchantment or barrier. Then the archer Mason couldn¡¯t identify stepped forward, and together the two of them moved a section of the tar away from an entrance.


    Senkar did something to the fallen archer¡¯s body, and covered it with some uprooted shrubs.


    Even Faynel seemed reserved. She met Mason¡¯s look for a brief moment and then looked down, right before the group filed into the shelter.


    The shelter itself was cozy, albeit extremely dark. Leornal quickly went over to a pile of firewood and began to spark a fire, sprinkling a dusting of mana into it so that it would provide better vision to the Darkest Night as well. There was a small food preparation area in one corner, a small table in another, but the majority of the building was taken up by rows of beds, or small storage chests.


    Clearly this shelter was not meant for any sort of luxury.


    Several people broke into small groups and talked quietly amongst themselves. Mason saw them gesturing, sometimes at him, sometimes outside, and oftentimes in the direction of their fallen comrade as they talked. He felt like he was intruding, and he also felt guilty in a way he hadn¡¯t experienced over many things in this world.


    The archer had died really only for one single reason. Because he was trying to protect Mason. Yet Mason didn¡¯t even know his name.


    Since no orders were forthcoming, and nobody was coming to talk to Mason, he picked a cot far away from where most of the others were mingling and laid down. As he got settled, he saw Leornal off to the side, looking intensely at a small orb, consumed with a novel. The thin shift of a blanket didn¡¯t do much to warm him, but he knew that with a fire burning and seven bodies it wouldn¡¯t be long until this well-insulated building was balmy.


    Sleep didn¡¯t seem to have any interest in Mason, even though he was fairly comfortable and his body was exhausted, and his eyes were closed tightly. He laid there and tried to not hear anyone speaking. Even his own thoughts seemed quiet.


    A dull insistence from within made him vaguely aware that either Mowry or Geralt wanted his attention, but he was too tired to care, and definitely too tired to fight with them. Warmth built around him like a cocoon, and the noises of the fire and the quiet conversations blurred into static in his ears.


    <hr>


    ¡°Mason,¡± Mowrytal said quietly into the sleeping boy¡¯s mind.


    In the soulscape, Mason was cradled by the illusion of a warm cloud. Mowry¡¯s voice dug into him, but his fatigue staved it off.


    ¡°We need to talk, Mason.¡±


    He had done so much talking and thinking and training lately. Tomorrow was likely to be another battle, or more training. This was a time for sleep. He didn¡¯t need to talk while he slept.


    ¡°Let me do it,¡± Geralt growled. He pressed a hand against Mason and a surge of energy charged through the boy even in his soul.


    Mason woke with a start- only in this soul place- and swore as he looked at the two standing over him. ¡°What?¡± he demanded. ¡°Let me sleep.¡±


    ¡°No, boy. There are matters to discuss. Mowrytal believes that you are in a great deal more danger than your band realizes, and we need to discuss your abilities before you take too many more knife wounds.¡±


    Rolling out of the cloud, Mason rose to his feet and took a deep breath. At least, it felt like one. This place that wasn¡¯t a place seemed to behave oddly. ¡°My abilities?¡±


    Mowry stepped forward, ¡°You might have been gravely injured by the backlash of that last spell if I hadn¡¯t pushed out the energy on your behalf, Mason.¡±


    That got his attention, ¡°You did that?¡±


    ¡°You think you managed to save yourself? Your magic is unstable. Your casting is amateurish. You have no awareness of the battlefield!¡±


    Mowry put out a hand to silence Geralt, ¡°You should see something.¡±


    With a gesture, Mason¡¯s attention was drawn to the distance of the soulscape. There was a space which might have been a wall, off to the side of the trickling font which Mason seemed to derive his mana from. In that space was the fundamental force rune, but when Mason looked at, his mind went elsewhere.


    Suddenly he could picture the tower from Sorynel¡¯s tale. He could see the way the edifice was built to contain that pure and brilliant energy. Ripples of it spread like the tide into the land itself, and the energy carried beyond that region, into and throughout the world on a spiderwebbed matrix of veins.


    What he saw honored there was both similar to the rune, yet infinitely more complex. He had the awareness that the fundamental rune wasn¡¯t all encompassing of the powers of force, but more like a root. His mind reeled at the possibilities. He could¡­


    A hand on his shoulder pulled him so that he turned away from the rune, and now he saw Mowry and Geralt looking down on him. What had he been thinking about?


    ¡°Faynel explained to you how many mages cast spells. They create a spell rune, and through it they pour their mana until it transforms into the desired magical effect. Do you notice anything odd about your rune?¡±


    Mason looked back at it and his eyes widened. He saw the snowy mountain peak and the way the force shook the air, turning flakes of snow sideways or upwards, pressing them away from one another or crushing them together. The force moved them and changed them. How close was that power to almost any other power?


    Again he was turned away, and Mowry shook his head. But Geralt got to the point, ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to seal the rune into the fucking wall of your own soul!¡±


    Mason blinked. He wasn¡¯t what? ¡°I just cast the spell the way Mowry showed me.¡±


    Mowry¡¯s head continued to shake slowly side to side, ¡°You hold the image of the rune before you, not within you. It¡¯s not unheard of for a great Source Magister to imbue themselves with the runes. That may very well be why Sorynel is able to produce such terrifying power herself.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re not a great anything and you sure as hell weren¡¯t trained to do this.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t even know how it¡¯s been done.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ what does that mean?¡± Mason was lost, and his exhaustion wasn¡¯t helping. He felt a strange compulsion to look at the rune, to study it.


    ¡°You have to be careful if you are going to continue using this rune. Casting a spell can be dangerous if you lose control of the energy. But this rune is inside of you. Any energy you create with it will also come from inside of you. If you lose control¡­¡±


    ¡°Then I have a bunch of energy inside of me ready to rip me apart, got it.¡± Mason pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to scream. He felt certain if he did, the scream would pierce through to his real world body and wake the whole band.


    Mowry looked uncomfortable at the signs of the boy¡¯s distress. ¡°We want you to survive. We¡¯ve discussed it at length. Whatever enemies you are finding for yourself, do not count us among them. It may be possible to turn these unusual circumstances into a gift, with our help.¡±


    ¡°Oh really?¡± Mason rolled his eyes. He could see plainly that Geralt was less certain about his role in this. ¡°How do you plan to do that?¡±


    ¡°We have not solved that problem yet.¡±


    Geralt stomped away and began to fade from sight as he called back, ¡°But we¡¯re working on it. In the meantime, check your damn status when you wake up. We see all your notifications in here, and you¡¯re letting some pretty important things fall by the wayside.¡±

 ~ Fifty-Six - Refuge (Three)

    There was no time to check on anything when Mason woke up. Faynel shook him roughly and almost pulled him out of bed. He was still dressed, even to the point that he was still wearing his boots, so all he had to do was strap on his sword belt and staff sling.


    Unfortunately, armed and dressed was no substitute for awake, so he was largely dead on his feet. He cast around in a daze at everyone getting ready, and even as he munched on some pressed bar that Faynel had shoved into his hands, he really didn¡¯t understand what was happening.


    ¡°Get going,¡± Faynel finally cried in frustration, punching him and shoving him out the door.


    ¡°Wh-what¡¯s happening?¡± the human finally mumbled, shaking himself to try and restore his senses.


    ¡°Trouble. Sentir noticed someone watching the building overnight. We also believe we got a glimpse of a danger rune above the city, but nobody was on the sentry point so we haven¡¯t confirmed it. God you sleep heavy,¡± she complained.


    Mason watched as she bounced from leg to leg, practically vibrating with energy. But him, sleep heavy? He felt like he¡¯d barely slept in weeks.


    Someone shouted outside, and that fired up his senses. He felt at his mana and tried to force it to flow, then activated Focus to help him get a handle on the situation. Only he and Faynel were left inside. Somehow everyone else had made it outdoors.


    When he followed them, he saw that two waist high tar walls had been risen, curving around the corners of the building with a fair amount of space for movement behind them. It was a pretty impressive fortification considering he suspected it had been risen that morning.


    ¡°What are we expecting?¡± Mason asked as he was finally catching up to the scene.


    ¡°Corrosi.¡± The single word hung in the air. Mason hadn¡¯t seen these foes yet, but he knew, and could see around him, the fear that they struck in the Darkest Night. It seemed only wise to fear them himself.


    Leornal came up, bow in one hand, and put the other on Mason¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Play it the same way as with Valree. Draw attention to yourself if you must, but disappear as soon as you can and do not engage directly. You have no defenses against their spells, and won¡¯t be able to take them on in physical combat either.¡±


    ¡°Our best bet is to keep them moving, and let our archers riddle them with holes. If there¡¯s more than two, we¡¯ll have to try to scatter them and take one down at a time. If there¡¯s more than three, we try to disable any we can and then make a formation retreat. You¡¯ll know when it¡¯s time,¡± Faynel explained, her eyes locked ahead on the passing tree line.


    Mason felt out of his depth. A three on seven fight was a risk even with Torysen here? All said, they had two archers, a caster, three swordsmen with spells, and whatever Mason counted as. That was a reasonable composition for any fight.


    The trees moved and everyone froze. It hadn¡¯t been the sound of one bush shifting. The entire tree line shook and trembled. A familiar chattering series of screams sounded.


    ¡°Goblins!¡±


    The little green creatures rushed at once, and Leornal and Senkar immediately began firing arrows. Torysen jumped over the barrier and stomped, almost like a sumo wrestler, and stone vines ripped up along the holding line and began grabbing goblins left and right, twisting them, throwing them, smashing them into each other.


    Sentir blasted clumps of goblins aside when they came close to the line, while Faynel and the swordsman struck out at any goblin that came close. Mason wished he had the fallen archer¡¯s bow, as well as his skills. There wasn¡¯t much he could do without rushing into the middle of the battle, and he was learning, slowly that there was a time for caution.


    But the line was holding, even as the goblins rushed. Mason finally stood behind Torysen and began striking at any goblins that managed to get close to her, but those were few and far between. Nobody had admonished him though, so he trusted his position.


    Something caught his eye off to the side- a hulking mass of purplish, yellow flesh. It was behind the tree line, but large enough that its shift was unmistakable. He was about to call it out, but it bellowed a sort of warcry, and thrust its arm out like it was throwing with a lacrosse stick.


    A big, heavy glob of green goo was flung at tremendous speed, and Mason knew without question that he was the only one to see it in time to react. He could have, and should have, simply dived out of the way, trusting his companions to react properly from their experience. But Mason reacted before he could think.


    Suddenly he was balancing on top of the barrier, directly in the path between the volleyball sized, radioactive-looking glob, and his mana was rapidly flowing into the shape of the rune within him. A memory, more like a wisp from a dream flashed in his mind.


    It was bad to create the energy within him.


    With every ounce of Mason¡¯s considerable willpower, he imagined the energy forming outside of him, right in the path of glob. He hadn¡¯t figured out quite what he¡¯d do with it when it was there, but an image came to him of a hexagonal plane, a flat disc with the force sigil emblazoned on it.


    The glob smashed into the glassy plane Mason had inadvertently formed in front of him, and it was as if it was bound a certain distance from him, the initial impact throwing Mason off-balance. He flailed his arms as he fell backwards off the wall, and he thrust with the plane up.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Rebounding off the barrier, the glob launched high in the sky and up over the shelter. It crashed into the cliff face and seemed to eat at the stone, large chunks of the wall crumbling and crashing down over the reinforced surface.


    There were plenty of surprised thoughts in regards to this sudden maneuver from Mason, but nobody had any time for that. Torysen pointed her stone vines forward into a wall of short but sharp spears, and then left them, sprinting at the Corrosi in the woods even as Leornal fired a powershot right at the source of the attack.


    The powershot splintered wood as it passed by a tree, and a wail indicated that it had met its mark. The beast had stopped to watch its attack, sure of its tactics potency, and had been caught off guard. That confidence was his undoing. Torysen was upon him in a hail of flashing attacks with her heavy blade.


    Mason took her spot in the fray feeling remarkably drained. He drew his staff and began striking out at goblins as they climbed over or around the impromptu spear line, alternating between mana drain to recharge his reserves and stamina drain to empower his allies. The line continued to hold, and the human tried his best to keep his mind on the battle before him.


    The battle ended as Torysen took down the Corrosi and threw its severed head into the middle of the field and made her stone roots spear it. The remaining goblins screamed, broke, and fled, and the fighters had spent enough energy defending- nobody wanted to give chase.


    The head was a grotesque thing. Too wide, too cubic, covered in short patches of hair that was so thick and coarse it stood straight. And a grotesque amount of blood poured from the severed neck.


    A hand on his shoulder drew Mason¡¯s attention away from the atrocity, and Leornal grinned at him enthusiastically. The look seemed out of place on the surly archer¡¯s face. ¡°Well you finally did something useful without relying on that damned staff. That was some spell! The old lady teach you that?¡±


    Faynel stepped up, ¡°If she did, I missed it. I¡¯ve never seen anything like that. And you cast it so quickly!¡±


    ¡°Most barriers require a good deal of setup. You¡¯ll have to teach us all that skill, Mason,¡± Torysen said in a calm voice as she walked up to the group. Her stone vines were busy behind her throwing goblin corpses away from their shelter, but that seemed to cost her no attention.


    ¡°I have to figure out how I did it first,¡± Mason smiled uncomfortably.


    ¡°Source Magic,¡± Faynel said happily, and everyone nodded as if that explained it entirely.


    To Mason, it just felt a little Deus Ex Machina. It had taken him a great deal of effort to master the force rune itself, but in the past two days he¡¯d learned to focus the blast in a direction and even form a barrier from it.


    Faynel must have seen his confusion because she nudged him in the side, ¡°You spent two days in the presence of Lady Sorynel. She¡¯s like a walking source. And she shared with us a lot about the source point. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if that isn¡¯t the last trick up your sleeve. I know I¡¯ve got a few brewing.¡±


    ¡°Enough, we can discuss this later,¡± Torysen snapped. ¡°We¡¯ve never seen the Corrosi and the goblins working so closely together. This is troubling. Moreso because both of these attacks have happened close to the city. Faynel, can you reach a vantage point and get a view of the surroundings?¡±


    The thin girl nodded, ¡°I can.¡± Without hesitation, she turned and ran up to the cliff face. She eyed it momentarily, and then jumped higher than Mason would have thought possible. She pulled herself onto a narrow ledge, then jumped again, almost as high and at an odd angle, yet she seemed to move perfectly on course. Mason could just faintly make out signs of magical effects around her arms and legs.


    Was that another ability from the force rune? He was beginning to see why Sorynel was so appalled that anyone would give up the opportunity to use a Source Rune.


    But another part of him remembered the backlash from failing during the fight the previous evening. It wasn¡¯t a trade-off he could easily evaluate.


    While he thought, Faynel climbed. It didn¡¯t take her long to reach a point where she could look out over the trees toward New Marra. Once she had her view, she scrambled down quickly and wasted no time, ¡°We need to go. The city is under attack.¡±


    The whole group swore at once and rushed into the building to gather the last of their supplies, all but Torysen.


    She stared out at the littered field of bodies before them, and then called to Mason, ¡°What do you think? Goblins are wretched creatures. Tribal and dumb, with the barest of magical ability. You can see the effects a Corrosi can have,¡± she gestured to the crater on the cliff face from the redirected blast. ¡°But they, too, tend to be highly territorial, very aggressive even amongst themselves, and too unsophisticated to work together on ambushes or a siege.¡±


    Mason stared up at her, and saw no trace of condescension or a trick in her eyes. She hadn¡¯t asked a real question, but what she was getting at was obvious. ¡°It¡¯s The Trials. We don¡¯t know what could be even further north from them, or they could be merely starving. Either of those things could force them to work together.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to kill you, Mason. I did not try to hide that fact. But I trained you, and I¡¯ve welcomed you into the band, and now I have lost a friend protecting you.¡± Her gaze was steely, but there was both fear and warning behind it. ¡°I need to know, before we walk willingly into another battle, that you understand why I have put my personal feelings aside and done my best to treat fairly with you.¡±


    Why had she done as much for him? And moreover, Sorynel, Leornal, Faynel, and even Shayjol. All people he vaguely understood as Darkest Night. ¡°Embracing The Trials means growth. Striking down an enemy may give you a skill level, but earning an ally means one more person watching your back with their own skills.¡±


    ¡°If something can threaten the Corrosi, then we are in grave danger. All of us. New Marra is a joke. The city acts as if a small defense force and some patrols are enough to let everyone else carry on their lives as if this were our own world. Your speech before the council proved to me that you shared our way of seeing things.¡±


    She smiled down at him, and it was a thin thing. Tired, and sad. Mason could almost feel Mowrytal responding in kind within him. ¡°It is a hard thing to do, but I am working to put aside my anger. You¡¯ve acted bravely and honorably in every trial you¡¯ve faced.¡±


    ¡°Ah don¡¯t spoil the Demon too much. He¡¯s behaved himself so far but you never know when he¡¯ll start jumping from the shadows to eat your soul,¡± Leornal teased as he walked out ahead of the rest of the group. ¡°Torysen, I believe we should be moving. There will be time to sit around the campfire with the human once we¡¯ve swooped in and saved the city.¡±


    Mason shot him a dirty look, but resolved it with a grin. ¡°You¡¯re an asshole. But he¡¯s right. I appreciate your sentiments, Torysen. I would be glad to talk about the future, and an alliance of our people, more when the time is appropriate.¡±


    The captain wasn¡¯t abashed in the least, but immediately resumed her commanding demeanor. She barked orders out about their travelling formation and set a steady but unhurried pace. It was clear she wasn¡¯t willing to risk her own band just to get to the fighting a few moments sooner.

 ~ Fifty-Seven - Refuge (Four)

    For all the time it had taken them to get to the shelter, it seemed they had returned to the city in the blink of an eye. Sentir had thrown up a hand, still among the tree-line, and begun pointing out targets among the branches.


    Mason could just make out traces of what seemed to be a hoard, further ahead. The large, yellow-skinned, multi-limbed brutes were commanding droves of goblins through the city gates. It was unclear how they had been destroyed, and how the city had been breached in such a short time, but the easy money was on the guess that they had used sheer numbers and brute force.


    There was an unexpected degree of organization to the attack though. Without a spotter like Sentir, if the group had passed into the clearing between the trees and the city wall, they would have been bombarded and likely ripped apart by goblins armed with slings and crude bows.


    But they moved methodically as a group, Sentir locating targets while Faynel moved into the trees, removing any goblins that the archers couldn¡¯t easily gain a vantage point on.


    Senkar was chuckling as he spoke quietly to Mason, the both of them largely useless in this operation. ¡°She¡¯s quite the sight to behold, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    The swordsman laughed a little louder when it became apparent he had caught Mason off-guard. ¡°You will not be the first or the last to admire her. Even I tried my hand at winning her affections once. She almost broke it in return.¡± His smile was the likes of an old friend. He didn¡¯t seem upset at all that his attentions had been rebuffed, nor did he seem to think of Mason as a rival.


    It must have been long ago, Mason thought, for the man to be so open about it. But his carefree attitude helped the human relax. ¡°She¡¯s an excellent fighter, for as good as I am at judging these things.¡±


    ¡°She is that. Graceful, efficient. If she ends up anywhere near as powerful as Old Lady Sorynel, she¡¯ll also be capable of bringing an army to her knees. That¡¯s why your eyes are locked on her, I¡¯m sure,¡± he taunted.


    ¡°If either of you does a thing to make Faynel uncomfortable I¡¯ll wring both your necks,¡± Torysen called back from up ahead.


    The two shrunk in place, unaware they were close enough for the captain to hear. It was unfair- Mason hadn¡¯t said anything unsavory.


    It was unsettling how normal everything became in The Trials. He could banter easily with a Marran as if they weren¡¯t made of magic and from another planet, and he didn¡¯t think twice that he was watching the execution of almost two dozen little green pests.


    Not to mention the number of deaths he had been responsible for in the last day alone.


    How was it possible to acclimate so quickly to such a strange world?


    Glancing up, he saw Torysen staring intently across the field, and felt vaguely guilty for talking so casually about an ally at a time like this. The city was besieged, and given the state of the general populace, most could probably handle a goblin or two, but few could survive a swarm, and fewer still would be able to hold their own against a Corrosi.


    Mason noticed the signs of anxiety hovering beneath the surface of Senkar¡¯s face. It must have been on his mind as well. It would only make sense for these warriors to want to charge in and save the day, but they had to move carefully around such a large force if they weren¡¯t going to throw their lives away.


    Their caution prevailed, and goblins continued to fall from the trees, but the defenders at the gates were surely too preoccupied to notice the loss.


    ¡°There should be no more to ambush us. The rest of the opponents are either engaged or preoccupied. If we circle around to the east, we should be able to get through to the passageway,¡± Sentir reported when all was said and done.


    Torysen peered out, sizing up the cluster of forces besieging the gates, and then looking down through to the east where there were few threats. Her fingers danced on the hilt of her weapon whenever she¡¯d look toward the gate, and she looked ready to charge with reckless abandon.


    But a fighting force of seven was hardly enough, especially since they were far better suited to holding a position or scouting than to flanking a siege force. Reluctantly, she acknowledged Sentir¡¯s plan, and the group began to head away from where the combat was thickest.


    They stayed to the tree line for a bit even though it made for a longer route. A few times an archer or Faynel were dispatched on Sentir¡¯s direction to take out a threat, but no fight resolved to be more than a simple skirmish with the seven of them moving methodically through the woods.


    In time, they forged a passage up to the city walls, far enough away from the fighting that no one in active combat noticed them, save for the patrols on the walls, who recognized and hailed the group quietly. They signalled danger, and the group hurried.


    Once they reached the walls, Sentir and Torysen began to pace them with focused looks on their faces. From time to time, one would tap a section of wall, or probe it with a bit of mana, and eventually Sentir called Torysen over to a specific location. She felt it out, and then acknowledged his discovery.


    A minute later, thick stone vines ripped a section of the wall apart. The tar-like substance didn¡¯t crack or crumble, but seemed to warp around the hinges of a hidden passage. Large and powerful sigils were carved into the walls of the passage, and their presence gave Torysen something to anchor her magic into, enhancing the strength of her spell.


    The group passed through, and the section of the walls closed back up, leaving no signs behind.


    There was a silence to the group beyond merely what stealth required. Nobody expressed themselves, but the feeling didn¡¯t really need to be said. The attack was sudden, unexpected, and by any judgment, devastating. Less than a day had passed away from the city but then everything they relied on in the world was at risk.


    The city had been built up by a scared and desperate people that had been ripped from their homes on Marra. An impressive self-control had helped maintain order as they found ways to defend themselves and adjust. Torysen¡¯s Roving Band existed to help defend their people, and now they had seen the city gates ripped open, and enemies flooding in.


    They hadn¡¯t even been there when it happened.


    Uncertain of what they should be feeling, the Roving Band¡¯s members knew only duty. They had to do their part to help. They marched on, quickly, with a lone human at their sides and armed with a readiness to fight.


    They came out of that passage through an arched doorway that led right into the city streets. Signs of battle were all around, and goblins could be seen toppling mana-lamps, smashing crates, and breaking down doors. Like releasing tension from a spring, each of the Roving Band members launched themselves to action.


    The surrounding streets were cleared momentarily, and Mason was in awe at the diligence in the assault. He hadn¡¯t even fully processed what was happening.


    A woman called from a building above, ¡°Torysen! Great Source I thought those beasts were going to get in here, I owe-¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Torysen cut her off, ¡°What of Lady Sorynel? Why has she not repelled the attack?¡±


    The woman in the window stammered, ¡°I-uh, I don¡¯t know. The city was bombarded, and then the gates fell, and it¡¯s been chaos. I¡¯ve hidden here and don¡¯t-¡±


    Paying her no mind, Torysen turned to the group, ¡°The rest of the Roving Band is under the authority of Freshal, and I trust them to coordinate properly with the city defense. Is anyone against heading directly for Sorynel¡¯s temple? Something must be amiss if she hasn¡¯t come to the city¡¯s aid yet.¡±


    ¡°Affirmed,¡± said multiple voices. Torysen laid out a route verbally of the main streets they should take to get there, and they all set off at once.


    ~~


    New Marra was a city fallen. Mason could tell that much long before his small group ever made it to Sorynel¡¯s home. Buildings were shattered and the streets were covered in flaming wreckage and shards of the broken black stone.


    The goblins running amok were a plague of sorts. They had no order and no strategy, but each of them ran as fast as its little legs could carry it as they spread. No door was safe from their clubs, and no Marran was safe from their knives.


    But goblins could be fought. Even the most incompetent of fighters could defend themselves from a goblin, albeit most likely with some injuries. It was just that there were so many of them. If you killed a goblin, they might not split into two, but wait thirty seconds and you were sure to have run into two more.


    Their volume stalled the Roving Band¡¯s progress considerably even if it didn¡¯t wear their energy down in a significant way. To the contrary, their efficiency and prowess actually drew more people to them. Mason wasn¡¯t even sure how many people fought at their sides, but the band moved like a mob then, only loosely organized, but effective.


    From time to time, someone would ask where they were even heading, or shout through sobs that they needed help to save someone- if only they knew where that person was.


    Torysen led her band with quiet determination. They moved, and they fought, and they saved anyone they could on the way, often with a small dispatch of force, but no experienced fighter would be under the impression that this was a battle that could be won through conventional means. There were too many entangled civilians, and far too many aggressive enemies.


    Even if the goblins could be hunted down and removed, the true danger did not lie with them. The Corrosi moved through the city in organized forces. They were the ones that had taken down the gate. They were the ones that had pushed through the defense forces and sent in the flood of goblins. They were the ones that Torysen¡¯s band avoided at all costs.


    Sentir¡¯s incredible skills at detection made avoiding the powerful warriors a mostly simple feat, but even without him there, it wasn¡¯t difficult to identify their presence. A single Corrosi was powerful. Three or four Corrosi were destruction walking. Buildings crumbled, Marrans ran.


    Anyone could hear their rampage from three streets over, and if that someone were particularly slow, they might watch those three streets fall to rubble before their eyes.


    So the group moved quickly, bound tightly together by a sense of duty and discipline, and more than a small helping of fear. And when one of the survivors would grow weary and begin to lag behind, Mason was made responsible for saving them.


    ¡°Here,¡± Senkar plopped a goblin down in front of Mason. The thing looked pitiful. A force spell had sent it skidding against the stone and rubble, and the remains were bloody and torn. Worse, it remained willful. It flailed against the stones either trying to regain its feet or kill itself, and each movement made it send up a shrieking, wailing noise that turned Mason¡¯s stomach.


    On the other side of the goblin, an older Marran panted heavily. His eyes drooped and his body appeared bent and warbled. It wasn¡¯t a stretch to suspect that adrenaline was all that was keeping him standing. Mason gripped tightly to the staff at his hands, and looked between the two creatures.


    And he knew almost nobody in the band would look at him directly. This was dirty work. Cruel work. But something only Mason could do.


    He gulped, but mentally steeled himself. This was also necessary work. It would keep more Marrans alive to fight another day. His eyes met the half-lidded ones of the old Marran though, and he knew that wasn¡¯t entirely true. This man would never be a fighter.


    Still, Mason had been ordered to use his magic for the people. It was a penance of sorts for his crimes, even though the council had cleared him. Even though he had been chased unlawfully from the city. There was no erasing the undercurrent fact that the abilities Mason wielded were profane, but using them to help the city was a way to make good of them.


    Mason activated Stamina Drain and smashed the defenseless, ruined goblin in the gut. It cried out and stopped moving as a deep energy was pulled from its body and directed at the old Marran. The man straightened, his eyes a little brighter, and he looked at Senkar. The swordsmen just nodded, and the man walked quickly to catch up with the pack.


    Never did the man utter a word of thanks.


    The Staff of Mardun felt perfectly natural to use in battle. Turning an opponent''s strength into fuel was a satisfaction unto itself. But harvesting the last remaining strength from a fallen creature felt different. At first.


    More than a dozen times Mason was forced to use stamina drain or life drain to bolster someone¡¯s life or stamina. At first he had almost refused. He knew how people were looking at him. Even if it could help, he wasn¡¯t sure it was worth it.


    Then, it had begun to feel inconvenient. Why did he have to use his strength to save people who had none of their own? His skin began to hold fast to its reddish tint, even as Demon stopped putting the staff away between uses.


    That¡¯s when he began joining more of the combat. He stopped waiting for victims to be brought to him. He would charge into the fray and begin casting stamina, life, and mana drain as quickly as his own strength would allow. He buoyed the fighters, strengthened the survivors, and began to feed off the thrill of the battle.


    And how he began to itch for a battle. He had never used his Mardun spells more than sporadically. Why had he always assumed they were only good in a worst case scenario? He could pull the strength and life from his opponents, and these goblins only had so much of either anyways. Demon didn¡¯t hold to the backlines any longer. He was up front, standing side by side with Torysen and Faynel.


    It didn¡¯t bother him that they kept casting wary looks at him. It only bothered him when they would call him back.


    ¡°Mason, stop!¡± Faynel screamed as Demon rushed down an alleyway at a pack of goblins that were currently chasing after opponents unknown.


    It was as if he were a block of iron between two magnets. He felt the staff urging him forward. There was a pounding, thumping call to power in him that told him this was strength. The goblins weren¡¯t a match for him. Not when he used the staff. There was a fatigue deep in his body, but he could pour stamina and mana over that and forget.


    And any weakness faded when he felt the pounding of his heart as he smashed and struck at the goblins.


    ¡°They¡¯re destroying the city!¡± Demon shouted back. ¡°I can keep up with you all. Why shouldn¡¯t I destroy every last one of these things?¡±


    Faynel stomped down the alley and grabbed his hand, ¡°We will. We¡¯ll kill them all. But stay with us. Don¡¯t run off.¡± She reached for the staff and Demon pulled it away. ¡°Mason, come on. Focus.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t see her. Not really. She was beautiful, and a brilliant fighter. Maybe not the strongest, or the most skilled, but her speed gave her an edge that saw her cleanly through most fights. He wanted her strength. ¡°Come with me, Faynel.¡±


    Her eyes tracked between the staff and his face. She had been against him using it flippantly from the start. Leornal had warned her when she first got involved. Teach him spells. Train him with the sword. Keep the staff away.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to make sure Sorynel is alright? Think of the power she has to give us. You want to grow stronger, right? That¡¯s what this is about, right?¡± She saw the way his eyes kept darting back to the end of the alley. Where the goblins had gone.


    They might be too far to track easily by now. But there would be more. How far had the band gone? Not far enough, probably. They were moving slower now, overburdened with survivors clinging to them for safety.


    ¡°I want to fight, Faynel.¡± Demon was growling. He still felt torn between Faynel and the band, and his need to fight.


    ¡°You will. We will. Come on. Come with us.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch my staff!¡± Demon saw her reaching again, and it took everything in him not to strike it with her.


    ¡°You know it¡¯s doing something to you, right?¡±


    ¡°I feel fucking strong, so who cares? This city is being destroyed! You need my strength!¡±


    Faynel¡¯s glare was stony, ¡°We don¡¯t need you, Mason. We want to be your allies.¡±


    If her expression was stony, Demon¡¯s was granite. ¡°Fight with me or leave me be.¡±


    ¡°Good luck, then.¡±


    For a brief moment, Mason paled. That wasn¡¯t how this was supposed to go. She had fought dozens of rounds with him. She must know the thrill of battle. She had to know why he wanted to fight, to kill.


    But she was walking away. ¡°I¡¯m good at killing, but I don¡¯t enjoy it. The human I agreed to help didn¡¯t either. That staff might not give a damn, but I do, and you should too.¡±


    ¡°This is war!¡± he roared at her, but she kept walking. ¡°I¡¯m trying to help!¡±


    ¡°Drop the staff then!¡± she screamed.


    His grip loosened for just a second, and his awareness flickered. He felt it then. Hot rage and battle fury tangled up in a deep sense of fear and confusion. What was the staff, and what was him?


    The alley exploded, and fiery debris filled the air as Demon ran over to Faynel and stood between her and the chaos. He gripped the staff tightly and roared a challenge. Only one thing could destroy a building that handily. Corrosi.

 ~ Fifty-Eight - Refuge (Five)

    There were three of them, and they walked with the slow, sure confidence that anyone from the Roving Band would use to walk up to a weaker goblin. They saw no threat in the two smaller figures, and frankly that pissed Demon off.


    There was enough Mardun mana in his staff to cast life drain, so he immediately began to pull the life force out of the rightmost Corrosi as he charged right at him. The grotesque warrior seemed mostly unfazed by the loss, but he swatted at Demon as he got close. Demon ducked under his arm and smacked the Corrosi with his staff, but even with mana-blade reinforcing it, he barely nicked the opponents skin.


    A mace swung at Demon and though he got his staff up in time to absorb the blow, the sheer strength of it still sent him flying. Faynel screamed in the distance for him to escape, but the three Corrosi stood between them and she bounced on her feet, torn between escaping herself and wanting to help her new friend.


    Demon was injured, but not down. He¡¯d pulled enough mana from the Corrosi to activate life drain again, and the reinforcement kept him strong. He ran up again and juked around, baiting the Corrosi into attacking. This time, Demon dodged the mace swing, and with his spare hand he pulled out his sword and stabbed the wrist of one of the Corrosi¡¯s extra arms.


    As blood fell to the streets, the other two Corrosi involved themselves in the fight. All three advanced on Demon, and while two of them bore gigantic maces, the third looked to be channeling a spell.


    Demon reached down and pulled stones from the ground. He kept his distance from the maces and flung stone after stone at the three attackers. Each bounced uselessly off their fortified skin, clattering to the ground, but he didn¡¯t stop. He kept backing up, dodging periodic mace swings, and throwing stones.


    When the two Corrosi stepped aside, he knew what was coming. The third Corrosi lobbed a gigantic green orb up into the air, and chuckled. Even if the small thing ran, the spell was empowered enough to fry the area. The caustic residue would make the streets impassable for a day at least. This city was defenseless before their strength.


    That¡¯s when he felt a pinch and a sharp pain in his side. He howled and turned, but then several more piercing strikes landed up and down his sides, and the Corrosi swung his fists wildly, unsure where or what had injured him.


    Faynel was steps away before the fists came anywhere close to where she had been standing. The Corrosi¡¯s body was too durable for any of those wounds to be fatal, but she hoped the injuries would pay off. She sprinted into a side corridor, hoping to be able to circle around before the caster could target her, but was thrown to the ground by a shockwave. Debris fell from the ruined buildings above her, and she covered her head and crouched low.


    Demon meanwhile grinned wildly and triumphantly. His limbs were numb and he felt like something had snapped inside of him, but two of the Corrosi were puddles of goo in front of him. The only Corrosi who knew he had a spell to deflect their attacks had died in the woods, but now there was one still alive.


    Without hesitation, Demon leapt over the caustic ruins that remained in place of the streets and charged at the caster. If the caster had been stunned to see his attack reflected, he didn¡¯t show it. He bellowed a challenge and began to fling small orbs of acid at Demon. They had none of the explosive payload of the stronger attack, but any one of them would melt through his skin.


    But Faynel¡¯s strikes had proven themselves useful. The Corrosi moved stiffly, aware that each time it turned it aggravated the wounds and sent sharp spikes of pain up its sides. This delay was minor, but enough for Demon to react and avoid the spells as he closed the distance. Once he was in range, he threw himself at the Corrosi, trying to bury his sword in its chest.


    The Corrosi swept out with his arm, and Demon flung back against a wall, nearly biting his tongue off on impact. He hit the ground and rolled, and could smell the bitter pungence of the acid. Growling, he pushed himself to feet on shaky limbs, and rushed again.


    This time, before he was close enough to be struck, he stopped and doubled back. The caster moved after him but Demon ducked leapt over a pool of acid that he suspected the Corrosi couldn¡¯t clear easily. He was wrong, but Faynel¡¯s attack was hurried enough that he didn¡¯t get to find that out.


    She planted herself behind the Corrosi as he ran at Mason and funneled nearly half of her available mana into a force spell. As soon as the Corrosi reached the edge of the pool and looked ready to jump, she pushed forward with force and then pressed it down like gravity. The Corrosi staggered under its effects and fell face first into a pool of acid.


    Unfortunately, Corrosi were largely resistant to acid, so he flailed and splashed as it singed his thick skin. Before he got up though, Demon smashed his boot into the Corrosi¡¯s face, and then plunged his staff into its chest.


    Faynel saw his face as a wicked thing then. His scalp was lined with horns, and his skin was a swirl of black and red. The mana that swirled around his was turbulent and aggressive, nothing like what it had been when she had touched Mason directly.


    Demon was not Mason though, not entirely. He didn¡¯t share the few hesitations that the human had, and he was far less ignorant of his capabilities. He dug into the staff, looking for the rune which enabled Soul Steal, but rather than relying on the fundamental capacities that had led to Mowrytal and Geralt¡¯s imprisonment, he used the full spell as it was meant to be cast.


    All of the dark mana around Demon shot like spears into the struggling Corrosi, and it reached like undead hands into the caster, ripping and pulling its soul and mana apart, taking it in fragments and pieces back to the staff.


    To Faynel¡¯s mana sensitive eyes, she had never witnessed anything more appalling. It was no less terrifying than if Mason had pulled its flesh apart with his bare hands and chewed it all in pieces, and the Corrosi screamed in a way that made Faynel weep. His soul was being eviscerated and consumed, and there was nothing the girl could do to stop it.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    She grit her teeth then, and looked at Demon. She couldn¡¯t stop what he was doing, but she could save Mason from him. Taking advantage of the concentration it took to mangle a soul like he was, Faynel charged. She grabbed him around the waist as she sprinted at full speed and threw him even as she pulled him off his feet.


    The human fell back and smashed his head on the ruined street, but she didn¡¯t care. The staff was still in his hands. Without breaking stride, she ran to where he lay and stomped on his stomach, feeling no pity as he coughed and spluttered. She stomped again, this time on his wrist, and watched his fist loosen around the staff.


    Faynel kicked it away, and then pulled out some rope from her pack. She bound his hands and dragged the nearly unconscious human out from the center of the road, then poured a health potion down his throat.


    There was no telling who he might be when he woke, but she hoped she had intervened in time. Maybe letting him use that staff had been a mistake from the start.


    She looked back at the pools of acid and the ruined shells of nearby buildings, and then looked back at Mason¡¯s chaotic and dim aura of mana. She wondered a familiar cliche in almost any world; At what cost power?


    ~~


    ¡°Demon.¡± It was the word that roused him from his pained sleep. It was full of disdain and distrust, and spoke of hesitant regrets. It also was a symbol of another strained relationship. Had she ever called him that before?


    Mason roused slowly. In part because of a level of exhaustion that would have been incomprehensible had he not been experiencing it directly. Just imagining opening his eyes seemed to hurt somewhere deep inside of him.


    It was like when he had forced himself to use Analyze while out of stamina, how each attempt shot pain through him. But this wasn¡¯t a skill. He was exhausted on a cellular level, so even trying to work his muscles casually was too much.


    And there was the emotional exhaustion to deal with. Waking up to find that the person in this world who seemed friendliest with him could speak with such disdain was unpleasant by itself. But fatigue played tricks on the mind, and in his depressed state, it was just one more sign that it was hardly worth waking up.


    Why return to a world that didn¡¯t want him?


    ¡°Demon.¡± How many times had Faynel called him that while he was asleep? Was she shaking him awake? He couldn¡¯t feel. He couldn¡¯t move. He was trapped within himself.


    A brief spark of panic made him tremble. He had used soul steal again. Was there a Corrosi waiting angrily within him? He wracked his brain but could hardly comprehend what he saw of his memories. He remembered the thrill, the power. Pulling mana, stamina, and life into himself at volumes he should never have handled.


    Winning.


    He heard a sigh, and compassion leaked into Faynel¡¯s voice as she said quietly, ¡°Mason, please.¡±


    That was a reason to stir, but he just couldn¡¯t. He reached toward his mana, hoping he could send a spark of it out to let her know he was there, but the font which it normally flowed from was just shy of bone dry. His mana would return, but there was no telling when.


    He couldn¡¯t even muster up the energy to move to his soul place. If he could speak with Mowry or Geralt, maybe he could make sense of what happened. But he was stuck as if his mind were trapped in stone. As if his body were paralyzed.


    Too far. The staff and its strange powers had pushed him somewhere he hadn¡¯t anticipated. How many times had he snapped at someone for warning him of the risks of it? He needed the power, needed to change and grow. But was Demon someone he was willing to become?


    A nervous, twitching part of himself recognized the truth. Demon was a part of him, and there was no avoiding that. He couldn¡¯t give up the power and hope to survive. Quite likely he couldn¡¯t give up the power at all.


    Mason didn¡¯t know what that meant for him.


    ¡°Source, I don¡¯t want to do this. Please let this help.¡±


    Faynel was crying as she knelt over Mason in the small, underground cellar she had dragged him into. It had been hours since they had fought the Corrosi, but sounds of battle had filled the air the whole time. She heard the roars and shouts of goblins and Corrosi spreading throughout the area, and even an anguished wail which she suspected was the discovery of the ones they had slain.


    But worst was the crackling of intense flames and the tremor-inducing explosions. The Corrosi weren¡¯t just attacking the city. They were trying to remove it entirely.


    Faynel regretted not just picking Mason up and carrying him to catch up with the Band. She had the strength, and definitely the speed. But something had made her hesitate. There was a wariness of what Mason might be when he woke up. She had been there when he had taken Geralt¡¯s soul, and everyone had an opinion of the consequences of that.


    But back then he hadn¡¯t been nearly as vicious, or even slightly berserk. Moreover, back then he didn¡¯t matter to her at all. If she were to follow the teachings she had been raised on, she would have abandoned Mason. He might even have survived with whatever strength lurked within him. But she had touched his mana and felt his mind. Whatever he had been during the fight, it wasn¡¯t the human she had known.


    So with tears in her eyes, she extended her mana to her hands and took both of Mason¡¯s, spreading that power over and into his torn up body. Where it had felt intimate and comforting that time in his house, reaching into him felt cold and unnerving now. No Marran could survive with so little mana in their body.


    Mason may be full of soul energy, but he was a shell of mana. His body was not yet fully transformed, he wasn¡¯t nearly mana-born in the way she was, but still there should be more to it than there was. She bit her lip as she tried to connect with what little wisps of mana were still in him, and willed herself to not recoil at the feelings of pain and rage and sorrow she felt as she did.


    Faynel lacked soul sensitivity, so she had no way to know that she was pulling fragments of shattered soul force together, drawing them through the channels of his mana back to his soul where they could be processed and used. The soul steal spell Demon had used burned through his available mana before it had been even halfway complete, but now her own mana was reenergizing his body, allowing it to continue the process.


    She felt him turn into a vacuum for mana, no longer passively receiving her ministrations, but pulling it into himself at a great rate. Her heart raced and she panicked, but she could feel the excitement within him. It wasn¡¯t a greedy feeling, it didn¡¯t feel like the evil she suspected of Demon. It was the thirsty lappings of someone long in a desert, so she let it happen.


    When most of her mana was gone, she felt the spell activating within him. She would have pulled away then, would have left and run and let him deal with his own fate, but his fingers tightened around hers and he spoke, ¡°Faynel.¡±


    Every piece of her tensed, from the tiny muscles around her eyes to the powerful ones in her legs. She was torn in her compassion and her fear, but Mason¡¯s eyes were open and his mana was flowing back through to her now. She could still feel fear, but she sent him traces of hope. Together they sent an emotion which belied the intimacy of the connection. This was no mere mingling of mana, but a full binding. Every bit of the mana flowing between them had originated from her, and only some had been transformed in that essential piece deep within Mason.


    ¡°You saved me,¡± he croaked, knowing full well that was only half true. He would have survived. There was enough ambient mana in the air, and Mason generated it slowly on his own. In time, he would have pulled through. But that did not change the feelings of optimistic trust he sensed in her.


    ¡°Mason?¡±


    He nodded slowly with stiff muscles. He still felt like an overwrought sponge left in the sun. Dry, and brittle.


    ¡°Thank god.¡±


    Both of them smiled stiffly then, and Mason whispered, ¡°I¡¯ll be able to move¡­ soon. I fucked up. But I¡¯ll be okay.¡±

 ~ Fifty-Nine - Refuge (Six)

    She didn¡¯t ask any questions when he had finally recovered somewhat, and he was grateful for that. To be frank, he wasn¡¯t quite certain what had happened himself, or what lasting effects there were.


    Instead, she turned his attention to the crisis. ¡°You¡¯ve been out for hours, Mason. We¡¯re hidden and secure here for now, but the city is overrun. I don¡¯t know how many Marrans are still in the city, or where the band is.¡±


    ¡°Lady Sorynel?¡±


    Making a mental note of the strain in his voice, she had a decent idea of the pain he was in. ¡°They might still be there. If she could be retrieved, they would have done so at the cost of their own lives. We can¡¯t risk taking that detour though. If anything, we¡¯ll meet the band on the road.¡±


    Mason just nodded, and closed his eyes to control his breathing. Everything hurt, and every fuel he had was drained. Even with his recovery skill active, this was something he¡¯d need time to overcome. Faynel eyed him with concern. Getting out of the city would not be an easy task with Mason like this.


    Faynel knelt down next to Mason so he could put an arm around her, and together they stood, but it became increasingly obvious that even with help, he was too shaky to be moved. They collapsed back down, and Faynel just looked at him with pity in her eyes.


    And he felt it weighing him down. She had stayed and helped him, and done far more than could be expected of anyone while he basically lost his mind to a cursed staff. But how much more could he ask of her?


    ¡°Faynel, I-¡±


    ¡°Stop. I¡¯m here. Neither of us know time magic so there¡¯s no way we could be in any other situation right now than this one. Just let me go on thinking I made the right decision. Do you feel okay? I mean, you look like shit, but do you feel like yourself again?¡±


    In the span of a breath Mason assessed himself. It wasn¡¯t enough time to account for how many pieces of him had changed in the months. His body was partially infused with mana now, he had a strange soul place within him bound to the tree of memories, The Trials altered his strength and his speed and whatever else about him, there were other souls in residence within his own¡­


    ¡°Yeah, I think so.¡±


    There was a faint trail of mana which connected the two of them. No more than a single string bound from one hand to the other. Mason¡¯s fatigue made it impossible for him to notice it, but Faynel could still feel him through it.


    ¡°We¡¯ll rest here. The city can only crumble around us, but I doubt anyone will be able to detect this cellar under the mess that¡¯s above us.¡± Faynel fought off the awareness that if she were by herself, she could be out of the city in almost no time. She was committed to this path.


    ¡°How bad was it when you came down here?¡±


    She looked him in the eye and considered lying, but instead just shifted closer to him, ¡°Bad, Mason.¡±


    He shrugged and put his head between his legs, ¡°I fucked up, Faynel. I was just supposed to be helping keep the stragglers together, but I completely lost control.¡±


    ¡°You looked like a fucking monster,¡± she agreed, but smiled kindly at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure what happened. I remember fighting, and then needing to keep fighting. Everything was blowing up around us, but I felt so powerful. Not at all like I feel now.¡±


    ¡°Not many people can take down three Corrosi. You cheated, of course, but it was still impressive.¡±


    ¡°Cheated?¡± He turned his head to look at her. She was covered in dirt and filth, and more than a little blood, but he was so glad not to be alone.


    ¡°That deflecting spell you used. You¡¯ve really gotta show me how to do that.¡±


    He chuckled, ¡°Somebody would need to show me how to do it. I don¡¯t even remember that though. Not clearly, at least.¡±


    ¡°Well it would have been impressive if you had any idea what you were doing.¡± Faynel stood up and paced around the cellar. There wasn¡¯t much down there. A few shelves lined one wall, covered with jars of preserved food, and along another wall were some shovels and picks and other assorted work equipment. They could have been under a general store. ¡°Source, I wish I had some tea.¡±


    ¡°Gods, I almost forgot I was a human for a second.¡± Mason pulled his bag onto his lap and slowly dug through it until he had found his canteen with water. He uncorked it and tossed it back, taking long sips of water and only stopping when he coughed and spluttered from too much at once.


    Faynel grimaced at him. That might end up being a costly mistake if they had to stay down there too long. On the other hand, Mason seemed to have perked up from just that small boon. He wasn¡¯t moving around, but he was almost smiling, which was an improvement.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you leave me?¡± Mason brought up suddenly.


    ¡°Something about you being an ambassador or something? It¡¯s my job to keep you alive so you¡¯ll tell all the weak little humans to be our friends.¡±


    He rolled his eyes, ¡°Faynel, seriously. Maybe I¡¯m asking too much but I¡¯d like to know what made you decide it was worth trying to get me out of that state.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, it is asking too much,¡± she retorted, staring hard back at him. Her expression was fierce, but eventually softened as she sat back down in front of him. ¡°I could blame it on the mana mingling, but that¡¯s only part of it. You seem like a good person, and I didn¡¯t want to let some strange artifact burn your soul or get you melted by acid.¡¯


    Mason considered this for a moment. ¡°Thank you, then. I¡¯m beginning to think I really suck at these Trials. If it weren¡¯t for an overwhelming amount of help from your people I¡¯d be dead in a dozen ways by now.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a skill in itself, though? Getting people to help you? I mean, don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m all about doing good, but it¡¯s not like I¡¯d risk my life against a trio of Corrosi for just anyone.¡±


    That drew a genuine smile from Mason. ¡°I¡¯d like to think I¡¯d gladly face a trio of Corrosi for you too, Faynel.¡±


    She just snorted, ¡°Well that¡¯s good because we might have to face a dozen or so if we¡¯re going to get out of this mess. Have you seen if you gained anything from The Trials after the last few fights? If you can get a few skills or Focus Points we might have a lot better of a chance of getting out of this.¡±


    ¡°Let me check.¡±


    He tried to read through the notifications one by one, but his head felt muddy and he was lost looking at the numbers. He¡¯d gained a great many skills points, crossing the threshold of proficiency with several skills, and there were challenge notifications too, but there was so much of it that he couldn¡¯t sort it out easily. When had he even last gone through his notifications? The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He lacked the mental energy to pore over them in detail, so he pulled up his stats screen so he could take in the main changes at once.


    Demon of the Darkest Night:


    Amateur Magical Slayer


    Level 4 (39 FP)


    Health: 14/84 (2.7/hr)


    Mana: 8/44 (3.3/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 2/44


    Stamina: 5/95 (4.7/min)


    Strength:  6 (0)


    Agility:  7 (0)


    Intelligence:  9 (+1)


    Willpower:  10 (+1)


    Vitality:  6 (0)


    Endurance:  9 (0)


    Creativity:  7 (+1)


    Active Skills: Focus (26), Mana Vampirism (15), Analyze (16), Life Drain (12), Recovery (23)


    Passive Skills: Equip (8), Staff Specialization (27), Blade Specialization (26), Footwork (23)


    Mana Arts: Mana Sight (25), Mana Manipulation (27), Mana Tolerance (33), Mana-Blade (13), Shadow Stalk (12), Glamour (20), Stamina Drain (14), Runecraft (14)


    Spells: Indiscriminate Force (49), Force Shield


    Soul Arts: Soul Steal, Walker


    With a smidge of inspiration, he then cast Analyze on his notifications, willing them to condense the rest of the information for him. He was still left with a wall of details, but these were at least important. Each one offered the chance of Focus Points or skills.


    Focus has passed level 25, and you¡¯ve become proficient. You¡¯ve gained one Focus Point in Endurance and Creativity to commemorate the growth of your skill.


    The mind, like any other muscle, can be flexed and strengthened. Only once you¡¯ve honed your focus can you make the most of your talent. Your awareness is now passively improved by Focus, and activating the skill will now highlight important details in your surroundings.


    So far, so good. Focus was the bread and butter that kept him alive in his first few days in The Trials, and he had no doubt that would remain the case.


    Staff Specialization has passed level 25, and you¡¯ve become proficient. You¡¯ve gained one Focus Point in Strength and Willpower to commemorate the growth of your skill.


    Your staff feels natural in your hands, and as both a focus for your spells and an instrument of combat, it serves you well and loyally. You¡¯ve gained the skill Staff Imbuement, which allows you to prepare a spell within your staff and use its effects while in physical combat.


    A new skill would serve its purpose, but at the moment, he didn¡¯t think he wanted to play around too much with the spells in his staff. He kept reading.


    Blade Specialization has passed level 25, and you¡¯ve become proficient. You¡¯ve gained one Focus Point in Strength and Agility to commemorate the growth of your skill.


    Due to a competing challenge, further rewards have been withheld. Complete or dismiss Distinguished Footwork to receive these rewards.


    Mana Sight has passed level 25, and you¡¯ve become proficient. You¡¯ve gained one Focus Point in Willpower and Endurance to commemorate the growth of your skill.


    Light and mana are the two frameworks that reveal the world before you. Your vision is now passively improved by Mana Sight, and activating the skill will enable you to peer deeper into the mysteries of mana.


    Mana Manipulation has passed level 25, and you¡¯ve become proficient. You¡¯ve gained one Focus Point in Willpower and Intelligence to commemorate the growth of your skill.


    Mana holds the power to reshape the world, and you hold the power to guide mana with your will.


    Having gained proficiency in so many skills at once was overwhelming, especially to Mason¡¯s tired mind. But the new skills, upgraded abilities, and Focus Points were obviously worth the trouble of reading through the notifications. He hadn¡¯t really gained anything directly combat related, but the improvements to his awareness and especially his willpower would surely pay dividends.


    Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t the end of the notifications. There was a notification for both his two new skills; Force Shield and Staff Imbuement, but he decided he would just Analyze the skills later when he was stronger. He basically had an idea of what each did anyways.


    One more notification stood out though.


    Completed Hidden Challenge: Devastating Retaliation! Kill an enemy with their own attack. You¡¯ve gained one Focus Point to Creativity.


    And accepting that notification led to a final one.


    Congratulations! For crossing the threshold of 50 Focus Points, you¡¯ve achieved level five. Receive one bonus FP to any skill.


    For passing the boundary of your race and achieving level five, you¡¯ve officially been selected as a pre-contender in The Trials! Enemies may appear to challenge your status. Defeating them will provide great benefits!


    Pre-contender? What the hell was that supposed to mean?


    Mason set that aside- he had enough enemies to worry about at the moment without more cropping up. The real question was where to place that Focus Point? His vitality was running low compared to the rest of his stats, but would it be better to focus on specializing?


    Focusing on vitality, he submitted the point. He needed to be able to stay alive if he was going to put any of this newfound strength to use, after all.


    Brain aching with questions, Mason sighed. There was a lot to worry about at once. But he¡¯d gained a lot from all of that, and when he looked at his status again, a rush of excitement energized him.


    Demon of the Darkest Night:


    Amateur Magical Slayer


    Level 5 (51 FP)


    Health: 26/107 (3.1/hr)


    Mana: 14/65 (5/hr)


    Mana (Mardun): 2/65


    Stamina: 25/127 (6/min)


    Strength:  6 (+2)


    Agility:  7 (+1)


    Intelligence:  9 (+2)


    Willpower:  11 (+3)


    Vitality:  6 (+1)


    Endurance:  9 (0)


    Creativity:  7 (+2)


    The improvements were far more than substantial, and by whatever strange magic The Trials ran on, he was already beginning to feel better. Miserable still, definitely far from battle ready, but better.


    ¡°Well?¡± Faynel asked when it was clear Mason was no longer struggling through notifications.


    ¡°Looks like about twelve Focus Points and a level up? I broke a lot of thresholds.¡±


    ¡°Twelve!¡± Faynel shouted in the hushed tones of someone who knows fully well how to be quiet but was too outraged to do so. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you were sitting on that many notifications! What was even the point of training you? You didn¡¯t even think to take a look after we visited my grandmother?¡±


    Mason couldn¡¯t help but laugh, ¡°You do remember that I was stabbed, right? And then chased out of the city? I really haven¡¯t had a lot of rest since coming to this damn city. Or this world, if we¡¯re being honest.¡±


    ¡°Thank Source for improved stats, then.¡± Faynel rocked back as she contemplated Mason¡¯s revelation. ¡°You¡¯re going to be able to put up a pretty good fight once all of those Focus Points settle in, you know. What¡¯s your highest attribute?¡±


    ¡°Willpower. I guess it means I¡¯m stubborn.¡±


    ¡°It means you¡¯ll have some damn good spellwork if you can get your intelligence up and spend some time going over Grandmother¡¯s notes.¡±


    Faynel gave Mason an odd look, and her lips pursed like she had tasted something sour. ¡°Were some of those benefits from the Corrosi¡¯s soul?¡±


    Mason shook his head, ¡°No. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve done whatever needs to be done with that yet. I haven¡¯t checked my soulscape, and I didn¡¯t get any notifications directly about it, either.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Faynel replied, staring anywhere but at him. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, more of this? You have to pick, Faynel. Either you¡¯re going to support me doing what I have to do to survive or condemn me. You can¡¯t keep standing in the middle going, ¡®Well gee I just don¡¯t know, I guess I¡¯ll say you¡¯re doing the right thing but still make you feel like shit for it.¡¯¡± The human struggled to his feet, teeth clenched and itching to pull out his staff.


    ¡°Actually, I can!¡± She stepped to him, ¡°You can¡¯t fault me for being a little uncomfortable with you relying on a power that I not only was taught my whole life was the ultimate evil, but that I also just watched almost drive you mad and get you killed!


    ¡°So you know what? Yeah. I support you doing what you have to. I don¡¯t blame you one bit. But it makes me fucking nervous, and not just for some high-brow moral condemnation, I am genuinely scared of losing my friend to some dark magic.¡±


    The thread of mana that tied them together was still there, and Mason suddenly became aware of the feelings flowing both ways through it. For all her outrage, Faynel sent a calming sensation through the connection to him, and it made him painfully aware of how little control he really had at the moment.


    ¡°I¡¯m still not myself, am I?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like it,¡± she admitted with a shake of her head, ¡°We need to get out of here if we¡¯re going to catch up with the others, but I¡¯m worried about letting you loose in this state. So sit down, relax, and try and get yourself sorted out, okay?¡± She took his hand then, and the mana connection strengthened. Mason nodded silently, better able to share his complicated thoughts through that bond than words.

 ~ Sixty - Refuge (Seven)

    There was a solemn air as Mason appeared before Mowrytal and Geralt, but his first thought was of the free time they must have trapped in his soulscape. They had manifested what appeared to be a courtroom, but in an ancient style that brought to mind fantasies of the greeks or romans. The two of them were seated at a high stone table, and Mason was left a dias to kneel at before them.


    Since he needed their help, he participated. As he knelt, a strange look flashed across Geralt¡¯s face. It had been subtle, no more than a twitch of the lips, but for all the showmanship of the tall obelisks and heady atmosphere, Mason thought the man looked almost playful.


    ¡°It is good that you kneel, Human,¡± Geralt boomed from his platform. ¡°You stand accused of reckless misuse of the ancient powers of Mardun. Of wanton violence upon the soul of an enemy. Of a foolish disregard for your own safety and that of those who rely upon your liveliness. What say you?¡±


    Was Mowrytal laughing silently? They were high up and far enough away that it was hard to tell, but his shoulders definitely looked like they were shaking.


    ¡°I plead guilty on all accounts, and ask only the mercy of the court!¡±


    Geralt¡¯s face scrunched up in puzzlement, ¡°You have nothing to say in your defense?¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    In a cloud of smoke, the whole charade vanished. Again, they were in the stark white room, decorated only with a twisted wooden door, several fonts of energy, and a few other details which Mason¡¯s poorly trained soul-skills did not allow him to be aware of. Geralt looked disappointed, but Mowrytal still looked on the verge of raucous laughter.


    ¡°You have grown a great deal stronger, Mason,¡± Mowry said kindly. ¡°But you¡¯re very lucky for Faynel. You would not have survived without her.¡±


    ¡°I know. I didn¡¯t realize the staff had nearly that power over me. I don¡¯t think I saw any of the signs in the past, other than the glamour.¡± He wondered as he said that whether it was true. Hadn¡¯t there been some signs before? A tendency to take things further when he fought with his staff? A part of him assured himself that this was the first time he had lost his cool. Another part of him found that very unlikely.


    ¡°You ruined my entire effect, boy,¡± Geralt growled with characteristic grumpiness. ¡°But it is good that you recognize your fault.¡±


    ¡°We have concerns to raise with you,¡± interjected Mowrytal.


    ¡°Well I need your help so I¡¯ll gladly address your concerns. What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°You did the one thing we hoped you would not discover how to do. You destroyed that Corrosi¡¯s soul. We need to know that you will not turn that power on us.¡±


    Mason¡¯s mouth fell wide at the suggestion, ¡°What? You think I¡¯d do that to one of you guys? I mean, I get that our relationship is fairly strained in the best case, but I¡¯m not going to dismantle your souls after you¡¯ve agreed to work alongside me. I didn¡¯t even know I was doing that to the Corrosi at the time!¡±


    ¡°Then can you guarantee you won¡¯t lose control and do it to us in that state?¡±


    He had a point.


    ¡°A soul is a source of great power. If we can properly distill its strength, the soul of the Corrosi you captured might be very useful. But as it stands, it is poisoning you. Your body is not suited for the soul arts, not yet,¡± Geralt explained.


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure what to make of that considering you two are here, but let me just say clearly that I will protect you two no differently than I would Faynel-¡± The two souls looked at each other at the mention of the girl. ¡°-or Leornal, or any one of the people who have helped me. And I¡¯m here because of the soul issue. I just gained a ton of benefits from The Trials, but I still feel exhausted. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°As I said, you are being poisoned. The soul of the Corrosi is shattered and blocking the flow of your mana because you don¡¯t know how to process its energy. It¡¯s time you begin learning true soul arts, Mason. We¡¯re going to teach you.¡±


    ~~


    Mason remained in the soulscape with Mowry and Geralt for another hour, learning the basics of soul runes and soul manipulation. In essence, working with the soul wasn¡¯t that different from working with mana, but that was only true in the same way that learning to sculpt clay would help you learn to blow glass. There were shared fundamentals, but the technique was very different.


    It took all three of them working in tandem to clear the soul debris from where it blocked his essential passages, and even when they felt satisfied with their progress, he was not operating at his peak. The soul energy sat stagnant within him until he could figure out how to digest or remove it.


    When his attention returned to the real world, he saw Faynel watching him through screwed up brows. Her eyes darted all around his body, and periodically she would send probes of mana through their connection. Considering the little he knew about the mana binding, he wondered if what she were doing were actually rude or indecent, but he liked the sensation of her mana touching his, so he kept his mouth shut.


    ¡°What just happened?¡± she asked without breaking her observation.


    ¡°Soul Arts, I think. Mowrytal and Geralt are helping me figure out what to do with the remnants of the Corrosi. I apparently did a real number on its soul, but I couldn¡¯t really do anything with it. So it¡¯s just in there somewhere, fucking everything up.¡± He sighed and stood, pulling his hand out from Faynel¡¯s, and looked around their small cellar again.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to know what to make of you, Mason,¡± Faynel replied as she also got to her feet.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t blame you. I don¡¯t know what to make of myself. But I¡¯m ready to move on. I don¡¯t know how long it¡¯ll take for me to get back to my prime, but sitting here in this cellar isn¡¯t going to help.¡±


    ¡°Then take these.¡± she handed him a small mana crystal and a pinkish potion. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to give you either until I knew you were back to normal, but I think they¡¯ll help restore you.¡±


    Mason didn¡¯t hesitate. He pulled the mana from the stone and into himself, pocketing the remnants, and then immediately tossed his head back to pour the potion down. The room shook as he drank it, and he almost spilled it as he coughed in shock.


    ¡°What the hell?¡±


    Faynel was already up the short flight of steps to the cellar door, peering through the cracks in the entrance. ¡°I don¡¯t think the city has been fully vacated yet. It sounds like fighting and-¡± she pulled back coughing as dust flew around her. ¡°I think it¡¯s close too.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Great. Do we join in, or continue hiding?¡±


    Her stare was fixed on the cellar door as she thought, ¡°We join. If there are Marrans up there we can provide support, and maybe we can move with a band as we escape the city.¡±


    ¡°You trust me to fight?¡±


    If looks could kill- ¡°I trust you to have my back, Mason.¡±


    Moments later, they threw open the cellar door together and immediately launched themselves into defensive positions. The air was choked with dust from their broken surroundings, but even through that veil it was as if they had stepped into a completely different world.


    Whatever damage the city had suffered before, the hours they were down in the cellar had clearly been devastating ones. Tracks of destruction lay about as if a nightmarish monster had raked the city with claws. The buildings that remained standing were few and far between, and none were without their share of damage. The city walls still stood, but only in fragments, and the two survivors looked ready to book it straight for them as they surveyed the chaos.


    Beyond a stretch of ground pockmarked by burns and pits of acid stood a partial and unsupported wall, and around that two groups clashed. There were several Marrans that Mason didn¡¯t recognize and Faynel didn¡¯t immediately address, but a larger group of Corrosi had fallen upon them and seemed to be battering them back.


    The two exchanged a look, and began moving in that direction, but the ground shook and they pivoted as one.


    A single Corrosi, but taller than any that they had yet faced stood before him. Four of his six limbs were armed- two with shields, two with clubs, and the remaining two were gloved and would have appeared magical even without Mana Sight.


    He bellowed, and goblins began popping up from under and around nearby debris as the two began to take cautious steps back, glancing desperately around to prevent any surprises and possibly sight out an escape route.


    ¡°Weaklings. Hidden in the ground. I Corrosi Challenger. Minions will kill.¡±


    The Corrosi bellowed once more, and the goblins swarmed, charging recklessly with their improvised weapons raised high. The Corrosi made a noise that sounded like laughter while Mason and Faynel set to their defense.


    Sword drawn, Mason coated it with mana almost effortlessly. He switched on Focus, put his mind to his footwork, and began to dance. The goblins were uncoordinated, but he and Faynel were- if not talented- practiced. They side-stepped, kicked, and slashed repeatedly at the goblins to a rather great effect.


    One goblin leapt an impressive distance with his club upraised while Mason fended off one that swung clumsily at him from the other side with a too-heavy sword. Faynel caught the flying goblin with her sword, and used her momentum to twist and fling the goblins body at another that was approaching.


    By then, Mason had dealt with the clumsy goblin before him, and as he watched more begin to pile up and charge, he released a force blast to topple them before they even got close. With her uncanny speed, Faynel interposed herself between him and the goblins and began executing them rapidly before they could stand.


    Seeing that his goblin band was falling at a rapid rate, the Corrosi realized he couldn¡¯t afford to stand idly by. He roared again and rushed forward, drumming out with both of his clubs with a tenacious consistency. Despite being faster than his size would have suggested, he wasn¡¯t fast enough. Mason dodged back to gain some distance, while the dauntless Faynel ducked around to the side.


    She tried to go straight for a critical strike at the Corrosi¡¯s unarmored side, but one of his shields lashed out and blocked the blow with enough force to stagger her. This didn¡¯t seem to cost the Corrosi anything in attention, and it actually swiped horizontally with its other shield at Mason even while it tried to pummel him from above with the clubs.


    Instinct kicked in, and Mason blocked the shield swipe with his own Force Shield cast by his spare hand, and managed to turn and spin under the clubs. Closer to the Corrosi than he would have liked, he decided to press the offense, cutting in and low at monstrosity¡¯s legs. Faynel managed to move around behind while Mason pressured from the front, and both of them scored glancing blows before having to dodge back from the Corrosi¡¯s renewed strikes.


    There was a certain satisfaction to seeing the Corrosi bleed, but he was far from down. Mason moved back in to draw its attention, but moved around the far edges of its reach, waiting and watching for an opportunity to strike. He panted heavily, and felt his limbs moving more stiffly than he would like, but any awareness of his exhaustion was disregarded for the sake of the fight.


    As Mason held the Corrosi¡¯s attention, Faynel ran around behind it and began reaching for the weapons of the fallen goblins. She picked up a particularly nasty looking knife, and then flung it, activating her Force rune as she did and turning the knife into a brutal projectile. It moved faster than the Corrosi could block, and lodged deeply into the shoulder blade of one of the club wielding arms.


    Though the Corrosi didn¡¯t shout about the damage it had taken, Mason¡¯s rather improved perception noticed a shift in the pattern of its attacks. That gave him the opening he had been looking for. He stepped in and slashed with his sword, cutting through the flesh between two of the Corrosi¡¯s arms, and then immediately threw himself backward as one of its clubs came crashing down on where he was standing.


    Before Mason had even regained his footing, the Corrosi¡¯s unarmed hands began to glow. This was a move Mason knew, and was waiting for. The two hands came together and between them a green orb grew, but rather than lobbing the orb at either of the fighters, the Corrosi raised it high into the air.


    The orb erupted, and as it bulged and bursted great globs of magically enhanced acid began to fly randomly all about. Faynel didn¡¯t hesitate- she sprinted far away and behind a wall, and meanwhile Mason tried to predict and sidestep whatever strikes he could. His dodging was barely enough, and he grimaced as the small traces of acid that had splashed off of the larger globs ate away at his skin. It hurt, but it wouldn¡¯t hold him back.


    After that dangerous but largely ineffective attack, Mason charged right back into the fray, not letting the Challenger charge another attack or figure out a new way to hold its weapons in his damaged arms. Even as he reached the Corrosi, Faynel threw a Force-enhanced club at its back which made it stumble so Mason could land a deep stab off to the side of its chest.


    Retribution came in the form of a shield bash to the chest, and Mason was flung breathlessly several feet away. He rolled painfully over broken stone but thankfully avoided any of the pits of acid. He staggered to his feet just in time to watch Faynel ripping the Corrosi¡¯s back to shreds with her sword.


    Unafraid of overkill, Mason joined in the fight again and began to stab at any part of his enemy that was exposed. Shields and clubs flew in response but repeatedly missed their mark. Neither Mason nor Faynel knew how many strikes it took to finally down the Corrosi, and they didn¡¯t have time to count either.


    As he fell, they shared one look, and then dashed back to where they had seen Marrans engaged in combat. Though the Corrosi still looked like they had the upper hand, both sides looked to have sustained injuries, and the Darkest Night were nothing if not opportunistic. They threw themselves into battle, announcing themselves with devastating sneak attacks.


    Shadow Stalk proved its worth as it let Mason slip amongst the ranks and land attacks on two separate Corrosi, while still slipping away. It didn¡¯t make him invisible, but in the chaos of battle when nobody knew to be watching for him, it would have taken some keen detection skills for him to be spotted immediately.


    Since the two attacked from the opposite side of the battlefield, several of the Corrosi looked unsure which direction to attack next. Their indecision gave the Marrans a chance to push in, and the fight devolved from line-warfare to a mess. Mason and Faynel continued to dart around, emphasizing unexpected attacks and defensive maneuvering to keep the Corrosi on their toes.


    In short order, the battle turned. Valree stepped forward from among the ranks of the Marrans and suddenly looked ten feet tall. All eyes were on her, which meant Faynel and Mason had a great many opportunities for stealth attacks, but those paled compared to Valree¡¯s next several moves.


    The great warrior took a Corrosi¡¯s head clean off its shoulders with her battleaxe, and when the ranks behind her began to actually show fear, she stepped forward. If Torysen¡¯s bounding strike allowed her to clear a distance as if she had never moved at all, Valree¡¯s strike allowed her to clear the same distance in a manner reminiscent of a freight train.


    Her steps blurred, and nothing could stop her. She gave every appearance of being somehow larger than the Corrosi she charged at, and as she came close to each one they were flung to the side by the force of her movement and crashed to the ground. Her band immediately set upon the survivors, many of whom recovered and retaliated, but at that point Valree set her battleaxe to swinging and she cleaved her way back to where she had started.


    Faynel and Mason regrouped closer to the destroyed wall they had sighted earlier, and observed the carnage in a mixture of awe and horror. That mixture purified, at least for Mason, into simple terror when Valree turned to face him with no discernible change in demeanor from the way she looked at the Corrosi.

 ~ Sixty-One - Refuge (Eight)

    ¡°This has been a very bad day, but I¡¯ll never say the Source is unkind. At least it delivered the traitor right to me.¡± Valree approached slowly, but with so much unfiltered aggression that Mason was frozen in place.


    ¡°Back off, Valree. The council and Lady Sorynel both vouch for Mason. You can¡¯t harm him without their approval!¡± Faynel shouted as she placed herself between Mason and the warrior.


    She threw her head back and laughed, ¡°The council? They hardly deserved their seats in this world, and now most of them are most likely dead. As for Lady Sorynel, well, she didn¡¯t do much to defend the city now, did she? Look around, little girl. New Marra has fallen. And it¡¯s oh-so-convenient that it happened on the day we chased out that soul eating little coward.¡±


    ¡°What are you even doing here? Shouldn¡¯t you be escorting the survivors somewhere safe?¡±


    She shrugged and replied, ¡°We came back to see who else could be saved once the majority of the enemy forces retreated. And to be frank, I was hoping to stumble upon the humen¡¯s corpse in the wreckage. Now step aside. If you keep your mouth shut, nobody but him needs to get hurt and nobody will know he didn¡¯t die in the fighting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dying here today,¡± Mason finally spoke up, stepping next to Faynel and brandishing his sword. An itch on his neck was demanding his attention, and he so badly wanted to reach for his staff but¡­ not now.


    ¡°You are. Unless you plan to run away and let Torysen fight your battles for you again? You can¡¯t hope to take me on.¡±


    The rest of her defense force had formed up in a semi-circle around them, pinning the two survivors against a wall. Neither of them could believe they were actually hoping for a surprise attack from a Corrosi. Or better, another magic portal. Mason wished he had a way to contact Artorias.


    When no magical escape routes were forthcoming, the two backed up a space and began to look around hoping to find something to help them. They couldn¡¯t possibly fight a full defense team at once. Possibly together they could defeat Valree, but even that would be a challenge, and individually each of the defense team was probably worth the same as the survivors.


    One of Valree¡¯s men, a stout but pinched-faced man, sneered at them, ¡°For our family, for our city. You had better pray for quick deaths, both of you.¡±


    The captain shot him a look, but steadied her gaze on her prey almost immediately after. She walked slowly toward them, battleaxe poised in her hands like a mobile guillotine. It was a march slowed by a vindictive hatred. Each of them felt the need to draw out the violence, to savor their misplaced vendetta.


    Faynel grabbed Mason¡¯s hand tightly and squeezed as if she were in labor. He fought the urge to cry out, but that initial pain was drowned by the shock of her pulling mana out of his body. It felt much like what he suspected being drained of his blood would be like; a pinching, pulling sensation where his nerves were dull.


    He trusted her though, and he held his breath and waited patiently to see what she would do. Part of him suspected a Force spell great enough to pin them all in place. If she could activate the gravity spells, perhaps making them float into the air, they could escape for sure. She raised her spare hand straight into the air and Mason could see the burst of color as mana shot from her hands.


    Like a firework, she launched a series of runes into the air. Mason couldn¡¯t read it, but all else present could, and anyone with line of vision on the sky above them would be able to see it. She signed, Danger, Friend, Enemy, Friend, Enemy, Danger and then a symbol which represented her well-known family¡¯s crest.


    Two of Valree¡¯s men began swearing, but the captain herself looked around confused as the group began to lose their formation. ¡°What are you hoping to accomplish you little bitch? There¡¯s nobody nearby who can save you.¡±


    For all her bravado, she didn¡¯t step forward. Her motions were stalled, and she looked overwhelmed with uncertainty. Some of her men looked less uncertain, and were already backing away from the fight, while others were shouting insults at the ones moving away.


    ¡°You should leave now,¡± Faynel hissed, though the confidence in her voice barely hid the trembling of fear she felt.


    ¡°I will not. I won¡¯t leave this unsettled!¡±


    ¡°Captain, we should go. You saw what she did, right? The sign for traitor. If their bodies are found under that questions are going to be raised.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not against still killing the mana-starved but a Lady Nel?¡± one of the retreating men jittered, ¡°They¡¯ll execute us. Sorynel might pull us apart herself.¡±


    ¡°We have an opportunity here to protect our people!¡±


    ¡°Not our people if we¡¯re dead!¡±


    They fell to bickering amongst themselves, but the captain roared and they fell silent. ¡°There may be nobody nearby, and if there is someone, we can tell them the truth, that these two colluded with Corrosi and fed them our location and weaknesses!¡±


    ¡°What weaknesses?¡± Mason shouted, ¡°Your city fell because they blasted it to hell. What do you think I had anything to do with that if I¡¯m backed against a corner because of an untidy group like yourselves?¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°All of you are missing the point,¡± Faynel stepped forward, almost close enough for Valree to strike at her. Almost. ¡°If Marrans can see that sign, so can the Corrosi. I did feed them your location. Now do you want to be here when a full tribe of them show up?¡±


    Nobody was quite certain over the sound of their own blood pumping, but it did begin to seem as if they heard movement in the distance. Were those roars? If Valree¡¯s band was nervous before, that devolved to pure panic then. They scattered like a pack of dogs on the Fourth of July, and Valree¡¯s shouting was barely enough to encourage them to cluster in a single direction as they retreated.


    The captain glowered at the two, ¡°You will receive justice.¡±


    ¡°Fuck off,¡± Mason replied to a squeeze of Faynel¡¯s hand.


    As the band began to back off, Faynel immediately turned to Mason and indicated the opposite direction, ¡°We have to go, quickly.¡±


    They made good time as they ran despite the difficult terrain. Rather than making for one of the obvious exits to the city, Faynel aimed simply to get to the nearest of the city walls. They stumbled upon small clusters of goblins, but most were too preoccupied with looting to care about them, and the few that did take note of them only did so long enough to realize the fight wasn¡¯t worth it.


    ¡°Source, I can¡¯t believe this happened,¡± Faynel said as they moved over piles of splintered wood and shattered black stone. ¡°The goblins and Corrosi hardly work well with themselves, let alone each other. What could have united them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not really an expert on either group, to be honest. But they¡¯re both tribal, right? Couldn¡¯t a strong leader have organized them?¡±


    ¡°So effectively though? They must have started the siege and gotten through the walls in only a few hours. The attack hadn¡¯t even started by the time we left. And we only stumbled upon a small force, too. Where did they come from?¡±


    ¡°Faynel, what about your grandmother?¡± Mason asked, stopping his companion in her tracks.


    She turned on him, ¡°What do you mean, what about my grandmother?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s so¡­ strong. Couldn¡¯t she have repelled the attack herself? I mean, maybe not against all of them alone but- I just don¡¯t see how she couldn¡¯t cast a few spells and keep them from breaking through the walls.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not suggesting she was involved, or she abandoned the city,¡± Faynel insisted, with a curl to her lips that suggested a snarl.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m wondering if the threat isn¡¯t worse than we think. I would have asked Valree if she hadn¡¯t been so eager to kill me. But something would have had to have had the strength to subdue Sorynel to do this kind of damage, right? And you saw those marks on the ground. It was like a monster clawed at the city.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps Valree didn¡¯t even know what really had happened. In all the chaos, someone would have given her the orders to try to save as many lives as she could, but who would have been able to get close to something so dangerous and still get away?¡±


    Mason shivered, ¡°Torysen would be able to.¡±


    They exchanged a look, and then Faynel turned back to the wall, ¡°You¡¯re right. She¡¯ll be okay, and so will the rest of the band. We¡¯ll meet up with them on the road to the Biord.¡±


    In time they finally made it to the wall, and like Sentir and Torysen had done before, she began investigating the wall carefully looking for something Mason couldn¡¯t see at all. When she found it, she didn¡¯t express any excitement. She just began clearing a space in front of the wall and trying to make a complex sigil mark in the ground.


    Mason waited quietly, but after every contradictory thing he had learned about magic so far, this made the least sense. She had marked two sigils on the wall, and one on the ground, before she even began channeling mana.


    Slowly though, the sigils began to glow, and Mason could see a spell activating. Stone tendrils, much less decorated and hasty than Torysen¡¯s, began to wiggle out between a crack in the wall, and with a tremendous amount of effort, they pulled a small gap open wide enough for the two thin fighters to squeeze through.


    Mana sight was essential in the narrow corridor within the wall after the gap had been shut behind them. Faynel led the way shortly down the passage, breathing heavy all the while, and before they had gone more than a hundred yards down its length, Faynel smashed her foot into something and began swearing up a storm.


    She stomped and swatted at the wall before sitting down and pressing her fists against her face, and Mason stared on awkwardly, uncertain of what had sparked the sudden change in temperament. He shuffled closer and squatted down, and when he leaned close to ask what was wrong, he heard the girl sniff.


    That was enough to convince him to still his tongue, and instead he patted her twice on the shoulder to let her know he was there. By the second pat he could tell she was crying, and he wondered how thick the walls were around them and whether or not they might be heard if she began to cry noisily.


    It wasn¡¯t an issue though. Faynel was a fighter now, even if she hadn¡¯t always been that way, and that brought with it a certain dignified strength, however forced upon herself that might be. Tears streamed down her face, and she stared down past her knees, curled into a tight ball against the wall in that dark corridor, but she kept quiet.


    And for that matter, Mason did too. A voice nagged in his head that he had spent a great deal of time fairly intimately with this girl lately, and that he owed it to her to offer words of comfort, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to try and justify anything as the right words to say. Sorry your city was destroyed and almost everyone you know might be dead. Sorry that while those people were fighting for their lives you were distracted saving my dumb ass. Sorry you were abducted from your home world and that you¡¯re most likely stuck in this shitty plane for as long as you can keep yourself alive. He thought each of these things, and several lines more cliche and poetic, but sometimes tragedy deserved to be dealt with silently.


    It didn¡¯t help that he didn¡¯t know how he felt himself. There was no love lost between him and New Marra. His time there had been short and turbulent, and felt more like a stay at a hotel filled with assassins and very poor turn-down service than a new home. And as for the Marrans, well- he trusted Torysen and her band to take care of themselves properly. Shayjol and his parents were used to living beyond the city too, and probably would have escaped as soon as they heard the city was breached.


    No, honestly, everyone he cared about stood a good chance of being perfectly fine. But even if that were true, Faynel still stood to lose a great deal. Her second home, her grandmother, her mother, and Mason assumed she had other friends and acquaintances he¡¯d never considered before.


    Should he offer her vengeance? False hope? None of that was worth anything with as little information as they had.


    As she continued to cry, Mason offered her the one thing he knew for certain he had to give. His company. He leaned back against the wall next to her, pressed his shoulder against hers, and waited.

 ~ Sixty-Two - Refuge (Nine)

    They passed through a southern exit to the wall and stuck to the woods as they moved along the road. For a long time, neither of them said anything at all. Faynel¡¯s violet eyes were puffy, and she moved sluggishly in a way Mason hadn¡¯t suspected was in her nature, but they had made it out alive.


    And it seemed like they weren¡¯t the only ones. Scouting out the road revealed fairly obvious indicators of what was basically a mass exodus. There were signs of fighting close to the city, but they didn¡¯t extend far, so whoever made it a ways down the road was probably safe. Plenty of people had made it to the road, too, and it looked worn in a way that the Roving Bands and supply groups had never been able to emulate.


    It was a small solace, but it made it easier to keep moving through their fatigue. Perhaps in time they¡¯d grow so used to only short bursts of rest that neither would need a full night¡¯s sleep, but at the moment, they could hardly ask for more.


    Their steps continued to slow further as they began to feel safer, and inevitably they warred with indecision. The mass of the survivors couldn¡¯t be more than a few hours ahead of them, and moving in such a large group was bound to slow them down. Also, Valree¡¯s band might not be that far behind, and another run in with them was sure to be deadly.


    But weariness often made the sound decision a hard one. They kept moving, but slower with time, until they were sitting and taking breaks almost more often than they were moving.


    Finally, Mason had enough. ¡°We¡¯ve got to stop and get some real rest. It¡¯s warm out and the area should be safe, let¡¯s just set up camp.¡±


    Faynel looked for all the life of her like she wanted to protest. Likely she didn¡¯t even know why she was against it, only that stopping seemed against her nature and she wanted to be consistent if she was too tired to be wise. But she took a long look at Mason, and a long look back at the road behind them, and quietly nodded.


    Of course, setting up camp tended to include something like a tent, a fire, possibly a pot or stove. All they had were some traveller¡¯s blankets and preserved food, so they found a copse of trees that was mostly concealed, spent some mana to ward them from sight, and plopped down on the ground together under the blankets. They leaned against each other and the wide bough of a tree, long over the pretense of being uncomfortable with one another, and chewed cheerlessly at their food.


    ¡°How far do you think we¡¯ve come? How much further to the Biord?¡±


    ¡°Several hours? And a few days,¡± Faynel replied in a dry tone.


    ¡°Are you okay? I mean, of course not, but- Are you?¡±


    With a dispirited look, she rolled her eyes at him. ¡°I¡¯m alright, Mason. I just¡­ It feels like when we first arrived here, you know? And Valree. How could she think that this was a time for infighting? Don¡¯t we have enough enemies? Can¡¯t we put our hate aside while literally standing in the ruins of our home?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to be the one to defend someone who wanted to murder me in cold blood, but I can¡¯t really blame her. I showed up, broke a bunch of laws, stirred the shit, and then things went to hell. She already didn¡¯t like me, but I just made such an easy target. Grief is a bitch.¡±


    Faynel shook her head and began to laugh quietly, leaning her head on Mason¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I get it but I don¡¯t. But it¡¯s not about that, not really. It¡¯s about this world. How many goblins have I killed in the past few days? How many Corrosi? I wanted to be a dancer when I was a kid. I wanted to be a hero when I came here¡­¡±


    ¡°But you feel like a killer, instead.¡± Mason pursed his lips and looked to the dark sky above.


    She looked like she wanted to be outraged, but she slumped further down and nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I get it. I do. I¡¯m more shocked that I don¡¯t feel guilty about the shit I¡¯ve done here but I just don¡¯t. Maybe I just haven¡¯t had time. I almost envy you that good cry you had earlier.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t either.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± He looked at her, and she seemed small. She was methodical on the battlefield, confident in front of strangers, a coward in front of her grandmother- but in her sadness she just seemed shrunken.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel guilty. Source, I even enjoy it. You think I didn¡¯t see a bit of myself in you when you got all possessed by your staff? You fought three Corrosi on your own and made it look effortless. I was jealous, and worse I was impressed.¡±


    Mason slipped his arm into hers, ¡°It was pretty awesome.¡±


    She ripped her arm out of his and pushed him, but she was smiling. ¡°I should have let Valree take your head. I¡¯d have a whole band to protect me right now instead of one scrawny human. I could actually get some sleep.¡±


    Laughing now, he shrugged. ¡°I would have gotten out of it somehow. I¡¯m like a cockroach you know. Can¡¯t be killed?¡±


    She squinted at him, ¡°Cockroach?¡±


    ¡°One of the closest things my world had to monsters. Ate trash, bred like crazy, and could survive just about anything somehow. They¡¯re a kind of bug with armor plating.¡±


    It was her turn to shiver, ¡°Sounds awful. I hope your humans don¡¯t bring those with you to The Trials.¡±


    ~~


    They didn¡¯t rest for long. Neither of them wanted to sleep without any way to know whether there were enemies nearby, and they also couldn¡¯t stand the thought of falling further behind the survivors. At the least, they weren¡¯t stumbling as they walked any longer, but their pace was barely quicker than it was, and paled compared to how Faynel moved when she was at her best.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    When the two came into sight of the entrance to the hive, they stalled behind the tree line. A figure stood on top of the hill, rotating slowly as it surveyed the area. Mason couldn¡¯t make out any details that would help him figure out what he was seeing, but Faynel¡¯s heightened Mana Sight was enough for her.


    She swore and stepped out, calling, ¡°Eldran, what could you possibly be doing up there? Don¡¯t you have any idea what you¡¯re standing on?¡±


    The figure stopped and focused back on her, and smiled broadly. ¡°Lady Faynel! What a magnificent pleasure. Here I was told my only company would be this mound of corpses, but instead I¡¯m treated to your splendid figure. You even seem whole and unmarred!¡±


    Mason could see the hesitation in Faynel as she moved toward him. She gave every impression of a person walking into their third consecutive double-shift while they were behind on rent. Mason simply followed agreeably.


    Once they got closer to the base of the hill, Faynel called back up, ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question, Eldran. And would you cut the pleasantries? We¡¯re not friends.¡±


    ¡°Your grandmother and my grandfather were definitely friends. That makes us a dynasty of sorts, from my perspective. Please, my dear, there¡¯s no need for bad blood.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no dynasty and no bad blood. I just can¡¯t stand you and I don¡¯t have the energy to pretend I can.¡± Faynel hardly looked at him as she talked, but as she got close, she began to climb the hill.


    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you continue sneaking among the trees? You were so discreet I would surely have had to let you go by. Of course, the pest with you would have to die.¡± Eldran vanished and suddenly appeared just above Mason, and in half a heartbeat the human felt something tight and magical wrap around one of his wrists and jerk it.


    Having lost his grip on the handhold, Mason began to slip against the surface of the hill, but he kicked out at it and pulled against the whip to drag himself up. He summited gracelessly at Eldran¡¯s feet, but scrambled and rolled past him to gain a footing. It was only when he drew his blade that he realized his wrist was still bound by the whip, and both Faynel and Eldran watched him impassively.


    Apparently defeated, Mason sighed, ¡°Are we fighting or¡­?¡±


    Faynel shook her head, but Eldran just turned a smug grin her way, ¡°Your pet speaks, but he doesn¡¯t seem to know his place. Would you believe a great many people are saying he led the attack on New Marra? Of course, one look at him would be enough for anyone with an ounce of pride to disregard him as a threat, but you cannot expect much from the simple folk.¡±


    ¡°Man, people like you make it really hard not to assume Marrans are just a hateful race. Will you let go of me if we¡¯re not going to fight?¡±


    Eldran¡¯s smile only grew more malicious. He snapped the whip and Mason¡¯s wrist jerked to the sky so hard he thought his shoulder would dislocate. Then the glowing golden whip coiled in the air in front of Eldran, spiraling on itself in a way that would have been impossible with a physical device. Mason rolled his eyes at the display.


    Everything about this new Marran screamed aristocrat in a way that felt painfully cliche. While most of the Marrans he met wore armour or simple cloth and leather, his clothing was white and gold with an expensive-looking trim and way too many details for the buttons and pockets to be practical. But for all that and the cruel look on his face, he didn¡¯t seem truly hostile.


    That, interestingly, was something Mason had just then discovered he could identify accurately. The thugs on the streets were clearly out for blood. Valree blamed him for everything wrong in the world and established a vendetta for it. This pompous princely figure made no overtures of aggression even as he used his whip against Mason, and that juxtaposition spoke volumes.


    Eldran had caught Mason in his whip without even noticeably moving at all. If it came to violence, perhaps even Torysen would struggle to outmatch him, and so he had no need for intimidation or aggression. If he decided Mason was going to fall, Mason would fall. At least, that was what his demeanor said. Mason had other ideas of how the fight might turn out.


    ¡°I¡¯d heard that you¡¯d been fraternizing with the human, Faynel, but I thought, ¡®No way, she¡¯d never do something so foolish.¡¯ Then I heard that even the great Lady Sorynel was offering him her teachings, and I knew I wanted to meet him myself to see what the fuss was about.¡± Eldran looked Mason up and down, and began walking slowly around him. All the while his whip zipped and danced through the air, licking close to Mason but never quite touching him. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t let him polish my boots. They¡¯re a very dirty people, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°I see you¡¯re as charming as ever, Eldran. His name is Mason, and if you harm him, I will break your wrists and string you up for the Corrosi.¡±


    Eldran rolled his eyes as Mason scowled at him, and when the two locked stares, Mason reconsidered his impression that the aristocrat lacked aggression.


    ¡°Then why are you here, my good Lady? If it wasn¡¯t for my company, and it wasn¡¯t so that I could kill your pest for you, what pleasure can I deliver to your lovely hands?¡± He stopped his pacing then, and walked up to Faynel. He had a good few inches on her, but the closer they got, the more similar they looked. It was something in their narrow faces. Perhaps they were cousins.


    ¡°We got trapped underground during the battle and lost contact with anyone with sense. I need information. Do we know what led the attack? How many survived? How far ahead are the rest of the survivors?¡± Faynel stepped up to Eldran as she spoke, and if he hid his aggression well, she wore it on her sleeve. Even with her weapon sheathed, she seemed a heartbeat away from striking him.


    Eldran just waved a hand in the air and put in a great deal of effort to look nonchalant. ¡°I¡¯m not a scout, my Lady. I volunteered to stay back this far because the rest of the sorry peasants were too afraid a big bad goblin would club them in the face, and someone needed to point the stragglers in the right direction. They¡¯re that way, for that matter,¡± he pointed vaguely down the path, ¡°And perhaps a half-day ahead? I doubt even that much. Apparently despite all their hurry to get out of the city, walking at more than a snail¡¯s pace was just too much to ask.¡±


    Faynel¡¯s eyes narrowed and she looked ready to scream, ¡°Do you take nothing seriously?¡±


    ¡°I take you seriously, my Lady.¡±


    ¡°Faynel do you want-¡± Mason started, but before he had taken two steps toward Eldran a whip lashed down at his feet.


    Mason dodged the attack and immediately drew his sword, but Faynel shouted for him to stop. ¡°We¡¯ve got bigger issues that to fight amongst ourselves. Mason, let¡¯s go. Eldran can enjoy his little hill by his lonesome.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think so, my Lady,¡± Eldran said as he grabbed one of Faynel¡¯s wrists. ¡°If you¡¯re absolutely certain you don¡¯t want me to kill the human for you, then I insist that I escort you to the caravan. It would not be honorable to leave you alone with him-¡±


    ¡°-What do you know of honor-¡±


    ¡°-and it¡¯s fairly likely he¡¯ll be attacked on sight before and when he encounters any of our people. Again, he is not popular.¡±


    Faynel threw Mason a look, and he just shook his head and shrugged saying, ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a bad idea for me to go at all, Faynel. I can split off and try to find my old campsite, and you can regroup with Torysen and the band to figure out our next steps.¡±


    ¡°Mason you are not leaving my side and you absolutely are not going to be bullied by my idiot people.¡±


    ¡°Now you sound like me, my Lady,¡± Eldran chimed in cheerily.


    ¡°Anyways, the Biord still have need of you. Or did you forget that most of their city is still sealed off? You can remember that too, Eldran. If Mason gets injured, none of us will have anywhere to go,¡± Faynel jerked her wrist free of his grip, and walked close to Mason, looking off the hill and down the path they were to follow.


    ¡°You form strange alliances, Lady Faynel. First you join that brutish Torysen, now you befriend this human. Nevertheless, a gentleman does not go back on his word. I will escort you both safely to our new home, and all I ask is for your affection in return,¡± he said with a wink.


    ¡°Fuck off.¡±

 ~ Sixty-Three - Refuge (Ten)

    When it became obvious that Faynel was not going to play along with his repeated attempts at flirting, Eldran turned his attention to Mason. Somehow he wrapped even the most mundane of questions with disdain, but Mason acted as if he were being perfectly polite. If he were honest with himself, and he wasn¡¯t, his calm demeanor probably had a great deal to do with Faynel¡¯s behavior. She stuck to Mason¡¯s side almost attentively, and though she clearly had a history with Eldran, that fact didn¡¯t seem in the aristocrat¡¯s favor.


    They stuck to the main road now, which was more of a trampled dirt path made dusty by the steps of the refugees. Eldran had insisted it was safe, both because it had been scouted already, and because if any threats cropped up, he would be able to thwart them effortlessly.


    ¡°So, human, tell me of your people. Are they all as reckless and brazen as you? What of culture? Do your kings and councils treasure the arts?¡±


    Mason rolled his eyes and considered ignoring him. If Eldran were any more obsessed with being pretentious he¡¯d be a bonified caricature. As it were, he reminded Mason of a wealthy hipster at a renaissance fair. He had thought Marra was a modern planet, but apparently Eldran missed that memo. ¡°We¡¯ve got all sorts on my planet. Businessmen and scientists and drug addicts and people who just want to sit around and watch Netflix. Uh, television.¡± He squinted at the sky as he tried to summarize, ¡°Like theatre but you can watch it in your own home any time you want. But whatever, there¡¯s something like eight billion people on my planet, so think of a way someone can be and you can probably find it.¡±


    After a few more steps, Mason noticed that the other two weren¡¯t with him any longer. He turned to look at them and saw they were frozen. Their dark skin, even lit as it was with mana sight, looked pale.


    ¡°What?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°Say that number again. How many people live on your planet?¡±


    ¡°Seven, maybe eight billion?¡±


    Faynel¡¯s eyes bugged, ¡°It might be a stretch to say we have a single billion Marrans. How could you¡­ but that¡¯s so many people!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a big planet. I mean, I don¡¯t know how big Marra is but surely you¡¯ve got space for people to grow? Once we had the world covered with roads and airplanes and mass produced food, people just kept reproducing. Our science and technology are pretty advanced too, so we have the medicine to keep most people alive for a long time, and well- I think a century or so ago we had a much smaller population.¡¯


    ¡°Your people sound like vermin,¡± Eldran said as he gawked. Mason had the vague inclination that hadn¡¯t been meant to be a direct insult- the noble was just naturally rude.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll waste no time letting them know that if they ever meet you. But if Marra has a population of almost one billion people then New Marra is just a small slice of the population, right? Do you know how the selection works? Was it a location pulled to this world, or¡­ well it couldn¡¯t be age group, or relative strength¡­¡±


    Faynel shook her head and bumped her hand casually against Mason¡¯s, ¡°There doesn¡¯t seem to be any way to guess who will come through. The starter city, before we upgraded and fortified it, was in the style of what one of our small cities would have looked like maybe fifty, sixty years back? But the population is hardly homogenous. Obviously whole families came through, but that wasn¡¯t consistent by any means.¡±


    ¡°It seems no coincidence that two of our great families were selected to represent our people,¡± Eldran boasted with a gesture toward his chest. ¡°My grandfather perished, of course, but my father and I have both been nearly essential at helping to establish the city.¡±


    ¡°Of course your noble family refuses to serve in either the Roving Bands or the Defense Forces.¡±


    He sneered at her, ¡°We do not sully ourselves with taking orders. We are better suited to leading, and you¡¯ll remember my father serves honorably on the council. And am I not here, risking life and limb for the cause of the city?¡±


    ¡°Miles away from the battle and abandoning your post? If you cared about helping, you would have shared your spell runes, at the least. You have a blink spell! Do you realize how much safer our scouts would be if they could master that?¡±


    ¡°If. If! These are no mere party tricks that any commoner can master in a night. My family has honed its magical aptitude even as it has gathered our extensive collection, and I myself trained relentlessly before gaining access to the greater spell runes. Would you risk lesser casters destroying the bands with backfiring spells?¡± Eldran stood taller now and bore down on Faynel, and though he was haughty in all of his movements, this outrage seemed more genuine than the great majority of his personality.


    ¡°Is there a history between the two of you that I should know if I want to follow this conversation, or¡­?¡± Mason interrupted, moving slightly between the two to break up the tension.


    They both gladly redirected their irritation at him, ¡°Learn your place and mind your own business. If either of us required your presence in this conversation, we would have given you the information you need.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I was busy trying to figure out something which might be important to why the hell our people were getting dragged to this place, but no, go ahead and bicker about family politics and who should or shouldn¡¯t use this magic or that magic. I¡¯ll wait,¡± Mason threw up a hand as he walked a little faster ahead of them.


    The three of them huffed back and forth for quite some time. A great deal of their arguments were about nothing. A greater deal of their arguments were about whether or not Eldran¡¯s family truly was greater than any other. Either way, despite multiple attempts by each of them to move the conversation along productively, all failed. In the end, they settled for a tense silence to carry them down the road.


    Mason was the last to notice they were finally approaching the caravan of survivors, so his first indication was when both of his travelling companions held out a hand for him to stop. His first instinct was danger, so his hand went straight to his sword, but despite their tension, neither of the others looked ready for a fight.


    ¡°Human, it would be prudent for me to move ahead and alert the defence force to your presence. Since I was forbidden to execute you, I¡¯m certain others will consider taking that mantle upon themselves,¡± Eldran explained.


    ¡°I find it baffling that somehow everyone thinks I¡¯m such a threat, but right, whatever. Faynel?¡±


    She nodded, ¡°It¡¯s the right call. I¡¯d have hidden you and gone ahead in any case if he weren¡¯t here. Try to contact Torysen and either my mother or grandmother if you can. We need people to know Mason is here that don¡¯t want him dead.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Eldran looked down and away from Faynel, but he said, ¡°Yes, of course. I¡¯ll find what companions of yours that I can.¡± Without waiting, he turned on the spot and rushed off.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t like him, do you?¡± Mason asked when he was no longer in earshot.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve met him. There¡¯s not much to like.¡±


    ~~


    Even with- or perhaps because of- the early warning, Mason¡¯s arrival to the caravan was met largely with unveiled distrust and almost outright aggression. He and Faynel moved slowly among the crowd, and somehow there always seemed to be a foot in Mason¡¯s way. That was only marginally better than the frequent glints of steel or sudden bursts of mana that greeted him around the less savory looking groups.


    In time, Leornal and Sentir backtracked through the crowd to join them as well, and the both of them looked as if their nerves were shot simply from being near Mason, though they greeted him kindly. Faynel stayed close, almost matching Mason step for step, Leornal walked a few paces behind, and Sentir stood ahead of them utilizing the full gamut of his scouting abilities to sense and avoid dangerous people.


    It was strange to be so distrusted, and stranger still to have an escort. Mason began to wonder about the sustainability of this partnership with New Marra if his closest companions were afraid he¡¯d get murder even among this sea of people.


    But there was a part of him who understood. Who hadn¡¯t heard about his arrival in the city, especially after his trial and the bold speech he gave? A great many people turned out to watch his first spars with Faynel, and even more had been involved in attacking him on his last night in the city.


    He was a known threat and wildcard, and more than that, known for sacrilegious powers, and had appeared hardly more than a week before their entire city had been levelled. And the state of these people¡­


    New Marra had never been a high-class city, but it was clean. The people milling about the city for the most part looked like city-folk. Most of them bathed often, maintained their clothes, and lived trusting their high walls and established combat teams to keep them safe. Those same people, only a day later, wore their anguish plainly. Mason saw a great many injuries- makeshift slings, acid burns covered in salves and herbs, and heavily tattered clothing were commonplace among the refugees. Everyone was covered in dirt from the explosions and evacuation.


    What really stood out was how little possessions most of these people carried. Most had bags slung over their backs or around their waists. A few dragged more along behind them, but in comparison to the size of their moving population, they had practically lost everything.


    So if they mistrusted Mason, or needed someone to blame, he understood. It didn¡¯t make him resent them any less for the subtle attacks and less subtle looks they shot him, but he knew he¡¯d be much the same if the roles were reversed.


    He watched a mother shepherding along one of the youngest children he¡¯d seen in the Trials. The kid kept shouting and pulling back against her, obviously missing something, and the mother just keep dragging the child along with a blank look on her face. The people around her kept looking away, unwilling to get involved, and haunted by their own memories of the attack.


    The child finally seemed to grow irate, and just dropped to the ground, but even as its legs gave out beneath it, the mother just kept her grip firm and dragged the child through the dirt, until it finally realized it had lost and fought to get its feet back in place.


    An elbow nudged Mason in the side, and suddenly his escort was merging into a larger group. Torysen¡¯s band. It was the full band, not simply the small group that had gone to protect Mason originally, but even still the numbers looked low. Mason turned back toward Leornal to ask him how the battles had gone, but the words fell still in his mouth.


    Leornal¡¯s hood had shifted, and Mason had seen under it if only for a moment. His skin was warped and mottled on one side of his face, his lips moving stiffly as he breathed. Mason thought he saw it stretching down his chin, and realized then that Leornal wasn¡¯t wearing the same outfit as earlier, either. Even he wasn¡¯t tactless enough to ask how much of his body had been burned, and seeing one of his own friends wounded suddenly made the whole experience that much more real.


    It was easy to detach himself from the suffering of the city. These people didn¡¯t like him or want him here, and they definitely weren¡¯t his people. He would help them, and support them, but that was more out of personal sense of heroism than out of a genuine compassion. His eyes snapped away from Leornal¡¯s face and he remained silent even as Faynel talked with Torysen and orders were explained. When had Leornal gotten hurt? While he was under the staff¡¯s curse? After?


    This was a magical world, so surely a healing potion or a spell would be able to repair the damage, or so Mason hoped. Those damned Corrosi. It occurred to Mason that he didn¡¯t even know what had prompted them to attack the city. It wasn¡¯t worth anything at this point, surely. When he had left, other than the walls the city was mostly a sea of rubble. For all Mason knew, they had attacked for the fun of it.


    And how was that different from how gladly he fought against them?


    Mason clenched his fist and remembered the confidence they displayed as they attacked. The Corrosi fought like exterminators, aware that their prey could cause problems, but with the absolute certainty that they would wipe them out nonetheless. It was written deeply into the careless tactics they used, sending goblins in as cannon fodder and mercilessly assaulting anyone who survived.


    When he was rested, and stronger, he¡¯d strike back. Perhaps a pile of dead Corrosi would convince the Marrans to trust him. Mason would just have to find out through practice.


    He was unconsciously gripping his sword as he contemplated his newfound determination to wage war on the Corrosi, and only tore his thoughts away from battle when he realized Torysen was walking next to him now and desperately fighting for his attention.


    ¡°What, what?¡± he asked.


    Torysen sighed and muttered, ¡°Get yourself together. We need to know if you are truly back to normal. Faynel insists that you are, but frankly if anyone outside of our group gets wind of what happened back in the city, I¡¯m worried it¡¯ll interfere with your role as ambassador.¡±


    Mason blinked, ¡°Ambassador?¡±


    ¡°You speak on behalf of the humans, and in favor of the Biord, or do you not remember that?¡± Torysen¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    ¡°Yeah. Yes. Absolutely,¡± Mason recovered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just worn out. But yeah. No more rampages from me.¡±


    ¡°How can you be certain?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s certain,¡± Faynel insisted as she rejoined the conversation. ¡°It was a one time thing.¡±


    Mason shook his head, ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± Faynel looked to be about to fight, but Mason looked Torysen in the eye as they walked, ¡°I have to figure out my limits, and whether or not whatever happened to me is something I can control, or have to figure out how to fight. But I¡¯ll do it, I will get it sorted out. I can¡¯t say what it¡¯ll take, but I¡¯m not going to let it stand in the way of my doing the right thing for all our people.¡±


    The ground shook, and great plumes of smoke went up in the air about a quarter mile back in the sea of people. Every single person in the area reached for their weapons at once, and Mason heard screams and sobs from beyond his personal entourage. Before anyone could move however, several runes shot up throughout the refugees, one after another, and each of them signified a stand down order.


    ¡°An accident,¡± Leornal surmised. ¡°I have a feeling we¡¯ll be seeing a great many more of those soon. I¡¯ll take it upon myself to see that an experimentation area is set up and secured once we¡¯re settled into our new residence.¡±


    Mason looked at him, confused, and the archer shrugged, ¡°These people just lost everything, but nothing more than the false sense of safety the high city walls gave them. There¡¯s no telling what sort of half-baked runes or ancient spell systems are being passed around the survivors even now. Many more will be trying to learn to defend themselves after this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about time,¡± Sentir said. ¡°There¡¯s no reason so many people should be so afraid of making themselves useful. If our whole city had been prepared, rather than our small fighting forces-¡±


    Torysen stomped and interrupted him, ¡°Enough. What¡¯s done is done. Mistakes were made, and mistakes will be made. But each of us will ultimately die trying to do what we think is right.¡±


    The group fell quiet. It was an easy tendency for the Roving Band on the best of days, but in the wake of the living nightmare they had tried so hard to prevent, with a great deal on their minds, they fell to the tendency like a horse to a gallop.


    Mason felt forgiven and trusted by Torysen¡¯s declaration. In peacetime he had seemed like an atrocity. His willingness to try dangerous things for survival made him appear reckless and even foolish. New Marra had no need of desperate measures when they had high walls and trained forces capable of repelling most common dangers.


    But the refugee Marrans would have to learn. When you¡¯re threatened, you fight back with whatever is at hand. Mason just hoped they would learn before someone struck too hard at him out of fear.

 ~ Sixty-Four - Refuge (Eleven)

    Mason didn¡¯t realize until they set up camp how much care the Band was taking to isolate him from the suspicious and angry Marran refugees. Torysen gave up her much larger tent for him to use, but from the time they stopped travelling, he wasn¡¯t allowed to leave. It was a complete lockdown, guard and all, and though Torysen put a political spin on it, Leornal said it most clearly:


    ¡°You are free to leave, but most likely Senkar will run you through if you try. It¡¯s for your own protection, really. We can heal up a stab wound we caused, but half a dozen from you getting mauled by angry civilians might be a bit trickier.¡±


    It didn¡¯t seem like a good idea to argue with this logic, especially since Leornal was probably right. Even sequestered in his little escorts, Mason couldn¡¯t avoid noticing the disdain and fear on people¡¯s faces when they saw him. If he hadn¡¯t wasted so much energy over the past few days, he might have just used his glamour, but if they got attacked, it would end up being a waste of valuable mana.


    Senkar wasn¡¯t one to sit entirely idle though. He probed Mason with genuine curiosity, ¡°So you¡¯ve got some sort of battle rage ability, then? You were a sight to behold, honestly. I¡¯m fairly certain you collapsed a goblin¡¯s skull like a grape at one point, and that stamina boosting spell you kept using was a sourcesend. I felt like I could fight for days!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess it¡¯s like that. It¡¯s not something I can really control. And honestly I think that was the first time it ever happened to me. Shot my skill levels through the roof, though.¡± Mason narrowed his eyes, ¡°Can I be honest with you?¡±


    The swordsman stood stock still and gave a mock serious expression, ¡°Of course, Ambassador.¡±


    ¡°It felt amazing at the time. I don¡¯t really remember the details, but I remember feeling invincible. I took down three Corrosi at once with a little help from Faynel.¡±


    ¡°You did what?¡± Senkar¡¯s eyes boggled, ¡°We needed you outside of Lady Sorynel¡¯s. It¡¯s a miracle we all retreated in time. You might have given us an opportunity to do something useful if you could fight like that.¡±


    The tent flap opened up, and little Clearsay came in holding two bowls. The little cook was still shellshocked from the battle, and it showed in the way his face drooped as if his muscles had completely given up. He passed a bowl wordlessly to each of them, and then walked right back out of the tent.


    ¡°Shame the poor cook had to go through that battle. Did you hear what happened to the rest of the band? Apparently they were near the wall when it was breached. They were dispatched to issue a call-to-arms and evacuation order throughout the city, but the fighting was pitched before they even hit the streets. We lost Jelten.¡±


    Mason just shook his head. That was another member of the band he didn¡¯t know. ¡°I didn¡¯t even hear what happened to you guys. I¡­ don¡¯t know anything. How did the city get breached? Where was Lady Sorynel?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Senkar said with a pause. He turned his attention to the bowl in his hands and sipped at the broth, lost in thought. When he finally looked up, his expression was complicated, as if he still wanted to appear like his chipper self, but his troubles had worn at him. ¡°Lady Sorynel was taken. Before we even got to her manor, the Corrosi had swarmed all over it. Several reports swear she¡¯s alive but¡­¡± he looked down again, and took several more spoonfuls of soup.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe nobody told you any of this. I guess with all the travelling and making sure you weren¡¯t possessed or anything¡­ Well, okay. So someone organized the goblins and the Corrosi, right? But the one responsible has some crazy power. Completely disabled the guards on the walls, and it was Valree¡¯s defense force that was supposed to be on reserve duty that night and since they were going after you¡­


    ¡°Well, so this mysterious enemy completely shuts down our defenses and sends in some highly trained legion of Corrosi to blow up the gates and punch a few holes in the walls. There weren¡¯t enough people to hold them back at the time, and then the goblins poured into the city and threw the rest into havoc. This elite force and their leader went straight for Sorynel and seemed to take her with almost no fight at all. Reports say it was as if all the mana in the area disappeared.


    ¡°Lady Sorynel she¡¯s incredible. I mean, you met her. She¡¯s wickedly powerful. And whoever led that attack shut her down like she was nothing. I can¡¯t even begin to guess how we¡¯d stand against power like that.¡±


    Mason reached out and touched Senkar to pull him out of his head, and then spoke softly, ¡°Hey, we do our best. There¡¯s still what, hundreds or thousands of you guys? If the enemy was too dangerous for us to do anything against, they wouldn¡¯t have let so many people get free.¡±


    Senkar stared at Mason with an expression almost as dull as Clearsay¡¯s, but then he smiled and laughed, ¡°I bet Sorynel is going to use some of that crazy Source magic to destroy their whole encampment. Darkest Night don¡¯t fall easily.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Mason started, as Faynel lifted the flap of the tent and walked in. ¡°Faynel, done helping set up camp already?¡±


    ¡°I heard there was food here, and honestly if I have to help another one of those ungrateful little pissants tonight I¡¯m going to lose my mind. You would not believe the things they¡¯re saying. Half of them couldn¡¯t even form a signal rune without having to sit down and concentrate and they have the audacity to blame the Bands and the Defense Force for letting the city fall,¡± she sat heavily next to Mason on his cot, a bowl already in her hands.


    Mason had to pretend not to notice the grin on Senkar¡¯s face as he eyed how close she sat to him.


    ¡°Faynel I really think you should be more understanding. I¡¯m sure if you just show them love and kindness they¡¯ll all realize they should thank you for your efforts. Here, you know what? I¡¯ll go talk to them myself,¡± Mason began to stand and Faynel grabbed his shirt to pull him back down.


    ¡°Your name is not an uncommon one out there.¡±


    ¡°I always did want to be famous.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in line for the award for most times stabbed in a single evening if you step foot outside without an escort.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get why they hate you so badly, Mason,¡± Senkar said.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Rumors, that¡¯s why. Either he assassinated Sorynel before the attack or he personally led the Corrosi charge. None of it makes any sense but if there¡¯s something to accuse him of, the people out there have come up with it.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m so looking forward to telling the Biord to open their gates to your people, and then to let the humans know we have a firm friendship waiting for us when they arrive.¡± If his eyes rolled any harder he was worried he¡¯d snap his optic nerve.


    ¡°Jokes aside, you understand-¡± Faynel started.


    ¡°Yeah, I get it. Tough times, scared people. For fear of sounding like a dad, I¡¯m not mad, I¡¯m just disappointed. But I¡¯m used to it. You guys are the ones who are really suffering having to waste all your time guarding me.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you got me out of having to set up tents all night. Guarding you might be the best job available,¡± Senkar added.


    Faynel grinned as she sucked down soup, ¡°Why do you think I assigned myself to the role as well? I¡¯m the overnight guard.¡±


    Both men¡¯s eyes shot wide at that at once, and Mason almost choked on his soup. Faynel hit him and glowered at Senkar, ¡°Get your heads out of the gutter. This tent is more than large enough for two cots, and I¡¯m supposed to be awake to guard Mason, not fooling around.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear you taking your duties seriously, Faynel,¡± Torysen said as she too entered the tent. It was suddenly beginning to feel crowded. ¡°But Leornal will also be on night duty to watch over you both. It¡¯s come to my attention that I can no longer let you wander around the camp.¡±


    Faynel dropped her spoon, ¡°What? Why in the name of Source would I be under guard?¡±


    ¡°Ignoring the obvious fact that you¡¯re one of the heirs of the most powerful women to cross over into The Trials, an astute observer would notice certain discrepancies in your mana that would beg some very uncomfortable questions considering current tensions.¡±


    Faynel¡¯s mouth grew tight, and Mason watched Senkar stare at Faynel for several long moments before shouting in surprise, ¡°I thought we were all just kidding!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that!¡± Faynel shouted back.


    Mason looked between the three of them with a furrowed brow- What was he missing? And he felt even more off-balance when they all turned to look at him. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on,¡± he admitted.


    Senkar howled with laughter, enough so that Leornal appeared and poked his head through the tent flap, and though Torysen remained stoic, Faynel was burying her face in her hands.


    ¡°I take it she just realized?¡± Leornal asked Senkar and Torysen.


    Senkar choked out a yes through his laughter, ¡°Okay, maybe we should leave Faynel to explain to the human. Before she dies of embarrassment.¡±


    Leornal looked oddly mischievous, ¡°No, no. I want to hear her try. It¡¯s quite a unique situation, after all. In a way, the fact that he doesn¡¯t understand means she performed quite the act of trickery.¡±


    ¡°It was an emergency!¡± Faynel shouted through her hands.


    ¡°Sentir claims the degree of harmonization indicates a repeat occurrence.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re being cruel,¡± Torysen said, though she made no move to leave and didn¡¯t show any obvious signs of guilt.


    ¡°Fine, Mason,¡± Faynel turned to him then, and Mason was momentarily stunned. Her skin, her eyes, and even her hair- every bit of her seemed to glisten and sparkle. He could see the tight swirls of mana moving through her body more actively than he¡¯d ever noticed before. Something within his chest stirred, and he felt more awake almost instantly. ¡°I warned you that mana mingling was intimate, but there¡¯s some reasons for that. And when we were in the cellar and I filled you with my mana¡­ well, there¡¯s side-effects to sharing¡­¡±


    It took Faynel a while to explain the cultural and emotional significance of what they had undergone, and took even longer as Mason was baffled by some of the complexities, and both were embarrassed by the comments from their impromptu audience.


    The gist was that as beings made almost entirely of mana, sharing that mana was highly intimate. Using a great amount of that mana to replenish someone else¡¯s depleted supply, then circulating it through a maintained connection over a great deal of time- that was not only something you¡¯d expect from a newlywed, it was also considered fairly kinky.


    ¡°But we didn¡¯t have sex!¡± she shouted, quite louder than she probably should have.


    ¡°Nobody here is judging what you did or did not do with Mason. The fact simply remains that your mana signature makes it extremely clear that you¡¯re involved with him,¡± Torysen stated.


    ¡°Okay but the first time she was basically using it to drug me,¡± Mason argued.


    ¡°That¡­ doesn¡¯t sound better,¡± Senkar said. ¡°And if she did it to make you more Marran, didn¡¯t she just do it to make you more compatible?¡±


    ¡°To make him more resilient to mana so that he could use Source Magic!¡± Faynel said.


    ¡°And the second time?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been through this,¡± Mason groaned. ¡°I was pretty fucked up after fighting three Corrosi, and the mana she fed me helped me recover.¡±


    Leornal, Senkar, and Torysen all looked pleased to no end by this turn of events. As the group bickered back and forth about who seduced who- Mason made an allusion to Leornal and Leenel which backfired exceptionally poorly- they were all able to forget the events of the past few days even if only slightly. It was a necessary reprieve, as the next several days promised their own difficulties, but none of them gave it two thoughts until later.


    It was a while later before the group dispersed. Torysen was called away to help with something, Senkar had his own tent to get setup, and Leornal simply wanted to read before his shift of guard duty. Mason and Faynel lay several feet from another staring at the ceiling of the tent from separate cots.


    They had laughed a lot with everyone around, but something about Faynel¡¯s expression toward the end of things, and the way she avoided addressing Mason while they got the tent prepared for the evening made the atmosphere feel sullen when they were alone. Neither were sleeping, and they could still sense one another clearly to be sure of it.


    When the silence had drawn on so long that it had cycled between comfortable and uncomfortable multiple times, Faynel finally spoke in quiet, hesitant tones, ¡°You would have good reason to be mad at me, you know, if you wanted to be.¡±


    Mason rolled onto his side, wincing at all the hidden aches in pains in his body. ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°What I did for my Grandmother to you. I know we¡¯ve been over this, and you pushed it aside, but now you kind of understand more of really what it was. Maybe mana mingling doesn¡¯t mean the same thing to you growing up in a different culture but¡­ I did take something from you. A first. You could have shared that with someone else. You could have consented.¡± She didn¡¯t look at him.


    ¡°Why do you feel guilty about it now? You weren¡¯t so bothered when you did it.¡±


    ¡°I was!¡± she protested. ¡°But¡­ I knew it was important. I really did need to activate that salve. And you really did need to go through that treatment. But I should have given you more of a choice.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you should have. I¡¯m certain I should be mad at you, too. But really, I can¡¯t find it in me to care about that. You came back for me when I was out of my mind. And you shared something with me that- even if I can¡¯t really comprehend the intimacy of it- seems to mean a lot to you. And you did it twice. And apparently everyone in the world knows, too. I guess that¡¯s punishment enough? Or justice? Something,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯m still sorry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still sorry to Mowrytal and Geralt. God, or Source, Faynel. I¡¯m not saying abandon all morals but I do think the rulebook is kind of out the window at this point. Who can survive in a world like this and still do the right thing all the time? Who has time, or the sanity, to even figure out what right is? You thought you were helping me, and you did help me. And it cost you something too. So I forgive you, and thank you, too.¡±


    There was a bout of silence again, but one that was simultaneously heavier and sweeter as they both mulled over their raging thoughts.


    ¡°I think everyone thinks we¡¯re dating, Mason,¡± Faynel said with a tinge of humor in her voice.


    ¡°From what I understand, we¡¯re basically married by your people¡¯s standards, aren¡¯t we? And already sleeping on separate cots. What¡¯s the world coming to?¡±


    They both laughed as they fell into a more comfortable chatting, and they were still talking as they fell asleep, trying to picture the worlds they each had come from.

 ~ Sixty-Five - Alliance of the Darkest Night (One)

    Fire. Acid. Raw Force which toppled buildings and sent stone crashing down mangled streets, heedless of the fleshy obstacles in their way. Bodies littered the ground, limbs bloody and bent at odd angles. Faces were crushed, or melted.


    In his dream, Mason could feel so many scattered parts of himself reacting in different ways. Parts of him cold and indifferent- critical of the poor planning and training which had led to the destruction. Parts of him merely regretful- ashamed to have fallen too early, and of having lacked the strength to intervene. There was a part that was thrilled by the destruction, that saw it as an opportunity to grow and prove himself. And a single, small, quiet piece of him was awed and terrified by a world and events that he had never expected to encounter.


    He didn¡¯t wake in a cold sweat- but wrapped himself tighter in his blanket as he fitfully confronted the scattering within him. In some ways, it was as if he had every thought several times over, each a little different than the last, and he felt assaulted by their contradictions.


    There was a white room- a blank canvas in which to breathe and rest. It was safe there, and quiet, and for a while he thought nothing at all. It was a relief, and the calm of silence gave form to his person.


    Mason Nevels.


    Mason Nevels.


    Mason Nevels.


    He fought to retain that identity, because here, asleep, sheltered from the pressures of immediate conflict that suffused his reality, he could see blurring of his sense of self, the bastardization of it that bred that strange and unwelcome alter-ego so frequently called Demon.


    A small voice reminded him that he had chosen to accept the consequences of his actions.


    But then he woke up and those questions were pushed aside.


    He woke to a room he hardly recognized, lit only by a small glowing mana-stone set into the normal stone of his wall. As his eyes adjusted, he reminded himself where he was, and switched to his mana sight so that he could see more clearly. He could hear the sound of running water as it poured through a channel behind his room, and pulled a latch so that some of the water would fill a basin that he could wash his face in.


    His head was groggy from sleep but cleared with remarkable speed as the cold water touched his skin. Shivers coursed down his back and legs, but they made him smile. The ripples gave him a means to measure out the shape of his body, and the past few days of rest had left him with the chance to really take stock of how he had changed.


    An honest man would have described Mason Nevels as he entered the Trials as scrawny. He wasn¡¯t thin in an unhealthy way- nobody would call him sickly, but he had the distinct appearance of a modern human, which is to say he didn¡¯t work for a living. This left his skin water-heavy and his muscles sparse, and with slightly pale skin and a tendency to wear ill-fitting clothes, he lacked any sort of distinct presence.


    But the Mason Nevels that sheltered among the Biord was not that boy. He still carried himself as if he would be glad not to be seen, often hunched over or slumped back, but time and experience would surely cure him of that mentality, as it had his weakness. However he moved, and whatever way he looked at himself, he recognized himself as a man changed.


    His muscles were tight bundles of honed flesh. Not large- he was no heavy axeman- but refined. They flexed and stretched as he moved about the room, recovering his clothes from where he had thrown them off hastily the night before. If he had any way to see his old self, he¡¯d know too that he had gotten slightly taller in the past months, and when he wasn¡¯t busy hiding himself, his improved posture and confidence accentuated that fact.


    If he could go back to Earth for a day, and walk into any bar with suitable mates, he would likely turn heads. Probably a good many of them would turn back to their drinks and their conversations shortly after- little about Mason was truly distinctive- but nonetheless he had a body and the developing countenance of someone who could impress on sight.


    Below the surface the changes were even more pronounced. Magic coursed through his- well, not veins, magic formed its own channels- but through his body. And unlike even most Marrans, it flowed freely from within him from a font of mana that any Source Mage would recognize in a fledgling. Around this font was a single established rune which connected him to the Source Point of Force, allowing him to convert that pure mana into Force spells.


    The guardians of this font and this rune were two men: Mowrytal of the Darkest Night, an offshoot of the Marrans, a race brought to life and sustained by mana itself, and Geralt of the Maledite, a race which to Mason¡¯s mind was almost entirely unknown, save for their strict and aggressive culture, and familiarity with The Trials.


    Below these guardians and their guarded font was a foundation which none of them had truly identified. It was born of a legendary artifact, the Staff of Mardun, which boasted great strength and origins more mysterious than that of the Maledite. This foundation was derived of a single rune tailored through the staff¡¯s design to enable Mason to pull life, stamina, mana, and even the soul from an opponent.


    This foundation remained subtle, almost undetectable, to any who might encounter it. It was improperly formed, for one, and hardly powered, for two. But it contained an identity which was an amalgamate of each material consumed for the creation and strengthening of that foundation.


    Mason¡¯s thoughts were hardly that deep though. He hedonistically observed himself and considered his progress as something of an ill-gotten gain. The Trials, as unknown as many of their rules were, gave their victims a very noticeably form of compensation in that they did something which greatly improved the rate of improvement for nearly any aspect that could be worked in.


    Through the completion of several challenges, and the development of several skills, Mason had earned a great many Focus Points, which seemed to be a currency of sorts that translated into The Trials facilitating the growth of his general attributes. He was faster, stronger, smarter, and much more adept with magic than he suspected he could have ever become in two months without The Trials, even under similar duress.


    Rest had done him a world of good. It had let the progress from all his hard work sink in, both in terms of his actual strength, and in terms of his mental state. He felt stronger, and that gave him a confidence that allowed him to begin asking himself questions about how he wanted to be perceived and what he wanted to accomplish.


    It had been just in time, too. Negotiating with the Biord had turned out not to be as simple as anyone had expected given Bazy¡¯s earlier assurances, but it was more than just that. The Marrans seemed to have collectively decided to hate Mason, and he in turn was forced to decide how to respond.


    ~~


    ¡°I will speak with no one unless the Demon is present!¡± Bazy huffed, glaring across the room at the representatives Marra had sent to treat with her.


    She was seated in a stone throne on a stone dais in the very throne room in which Mason had first appeared in The Trials, but despite her elevation, she was still hardly the height of the Marrans before her. Flanking her and lining the throne room were Biord guards, heavily armed and armored, but shifting nervously despite their greater numbers.


    Only five Marrans had been allowed to stand before her, and it had nearly come to blood as the refugees picked. Ultimately, they had chosen Torysen and Coltren to represent the armed forces, Leenel and Manlen to represent the civilians, and Eldran as¡­ Nobility?If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    It was safe to say that none of these picks had been popular with a majority of the Marrans. Many insisted the full council should go forth, others insisted the council had failed, and that the other Roving Bands and Defense Force Leaders should fill the spot. Nobody quite understood why Eldran had been selected, other than that his name had continuously come up, and supporters of his seemed to be notoriously vocal.


    Bazy wasn¡¯t impressed. Torysen, of course, she greeted as a friend, though she admonished her for not having returned sooner, or with a more likeable cast. The rest she sneered at, ¡°I hoped to treat with friends, and a fair council. But most of you are strangers and you are missing the ambassador I sent to spoke on my people¡¯s behalf. Where is Shaywise? Surely she would know better than this.¡±


    ¡°If I may,¡± Eldran stepped forward, ignoring the sudden adjustment of Bazy¡¯s nearest guards, ¡°I know the fair Shaywise, and she is a good healer, and her mana detection is well acclaimed, but she holds no office to be speaking on the behalf of our people. And as for this¡­ Demon you speak of. He is currently under great scrutiny, and we did not think it wise to include him in a discussion regarding the fate of our people.¡±


    ¡°Let me repeat that I named Mason the ambassador to the Biord, and let me clarify that I do not intend to make any deals with you Darkest Night-¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± Councilman Manlen coughed, ¡°We are not Darkest Night. That is what our enemies often refer to us as, but we are Marran, from the planet of Marra.¡±


    Bazy stood in her chair, and even still she seemed small, but the look on her face was surely something she had learned from her talks with King Arlon because it made the councilman step back. ¡°I will not make any deals with your people if they do not include an alliance with the humans as well. Mason is essential to this process.¡±


    Councilwoman Leenel stepped forward, ¡°Lady Bazy, you have to understand that tensions are high among our people. Our city was destroyed just days ago. We¡¯ve all lost a great deal, and our suffering is still fresh. Many blame Mason-¡±


    ¡°With good reason,¡± scoffed Coltren.


    ¡°-of being involved in some way with the attack. Bringing him to speak in a setting like this could cause a riot.¡±


    ¡°I was with Mason every hour he was outside of the city. He fought alongside my Band and fought well, at that. We fought the goblins and Corrosi- why would he not have defected if he were working with them?¡± Torysen shouted for what seemed to her like the hundredth time.


    ¡°We do not know the extent of his dealings or what further treason he plans!¡± Manlen accused.


    ¡°We do not know that he had any dealings, Councilman,¡± said Leenel.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Bazy squawked, her shrill voice rising above the argument. ¡°I made my position clear, and I do not think any of you understand the situation. You cannot enter my city without my agreement. Even as weak as the Biord may be, this city is not without its fortifications and there is only a single, small entrance through which your people could pass into it. I have demanded that Mason be here for this negotiation, and you have deliberately refused my wishes.


    ¡°Let me be clear and say that my people are also suffering. For all I know, there are hundreds or thousands of Biord still fighting for their lives behind the seals which I cannot break without risking an attack on the few that are safe. Your people knew this, and yet only managed to come to my aid when desperate yourself. I find it hard to feel pity for your people¡¯s suffering in light of these facts.¡±


    As the tensions rose, this silenced the Marran representatives. The wise ones, at least.


    Eldran dipped his head before her quickly and asked, ¡°Help us to understand. What is it that makes one human boy so important to you? He is the representative of a race whose strength and numbers are completely unknown to any of us. They might be a trivial matter, and surely that conversation can be had at a later date?¡±


    ¡°I am under no obligation to share my strategies with you. Perhaps I see in him a sort of security. Maybe I just find Mason more handsome than you. Either way, I¡¯ve spoken, and I will not again until you return with him.¡±


    ~~


    To everyone¡¯s dismay, when they finally brought Mason down to see Bazy, she did not address them all at once like she had claimed. Instead, she ordered the throne room sealed, and brought Mason into a small room off the larger chamber where the two could talk in private.


    The room was brightly lit compared to most of the underground city, and featured a long table decorated with carved sculptures and refreshments. Mason recognized similar fare to what he had scavenged on the surface, but he dipped happily into the mushroom wine he had been treated to his last time dealing with Bazy.


    The small, feathered, reptilian woman watched Mason with a look of pleasure, and then began to explain to him what had occurred earlier, reinforcing her eagerness to involve him. For all the authority she displayed in front of the representatives, she seemed casual now, and suspiciously open.


    ¡°I can hardly believe they¡¯d try to pull one over on me and leave you out altogether. I don¡¯t care what grudges they¡¯ve formed, I trust Torysen and you¡¯re hardly the type to lead a war-force against a city.¡± She smiled and stared openly at him and then seemed to change her mind, ¡°Well, without cause.¡±


    ¡°As flattered as I am for your loyalty, Bazy, can I ask why you really were so insistent for me to be part of the talks? I can¡¯t have left that much of an impression on you. So far I started a civil war among your people and then tackled you through a doorway. It¡¯s not as if you really owe me much.¡±


    ¡°You killed a tyrant and then spared my life, if you want to reframe it.¡±


    ¡°I did neither of those things intentionally and we both know it. Bazy, we¡¯re both underdogs in this world, so I think we should at least try to be honest with each other. You have no idea what living with the Marrans has been like,¡± Mason said as he leaned back in his chair. His head was buzzing from the mushroom wine and he knew it was making him more relaxed and agreeable, but he hardly minded.


    ¡°I fear I¡¯ll understand very well what living with them is like, if they have their way. But you¡¯re right, we¡¯re both underdogs in this world, and neither of our races is very strong if your old self is any indication, and that¡¯s exactly why you¡¯re essential to me,¡± she stood from her seat at the end of the table and moved to a chair next to his, leaning close with a seductive smile. ¡°I need the humans as insurance, and you need me to raise your value.¡±


    Mason furrowed his brow, ¡°I¡¯m not following.¡±


    ¡°Say I let the Marrans in to the city. They¡¯ll spread out, help me fight off the threat beyond the seals, and maybe, if we¡¯re very lucky, we¡¯ll find more Biord. That¡¯ll all be well and good, but will that be enough for the Marrans? They¡¯ll want to have authority, power, control. Anyone used to power will want exactly that- Arlon made that clear enough to me.¡±


    ¡°But if they have to worry about what the humans will do when they get here, they might be more hesitant to make enemies of the Biord,¡± Mason said with a slight gasp.


    ¡°They¡¯d have to exterminate us entirely, or make sure we stay happy. Otherwise we could sell them out to the humans who will probably also be coveting this city, or they¡¯ll have yet one more threat to worry about.¡±


    Mason pulled away from Bazy and stood up, pacing a little around the room as he nibbled on some nuts. ¡°This makes some sense, but it¡¯s a whole lot of guesswork. I can think of a million ways things could go wrong.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re overthinking it. We¡¯re not going to war, just trying to prevent it. A few thinly veiled threats and a handful of unknown variables should be enough to keep anyone with any brains in their heads from acting too brash. So I¡¯ll let them know that you¡¯re under my protection, and you let them know that the Biord are under human protection. If they hurt you, the Biord rebel and try to get the humans to avenge you. If the Marrans hurt us, we leak information to the humans and try to use them to oust the Marrans.


    ¡°Sure, in reality nothing will be that clear-cut or simple, but it gives us both leverage which we desperately need.¡±


    ¡°Well, at the very least, it might help reduce the number of wanna-be assassins coming after me,¡± Mason admitted.


    ¡°We¡¯re desperate, Mason,¡± Bazy said suddenly, looking at her folded hands on the table. ¡°This is important.¡±


    ¡°The seals?¡± Mason realized. He walked back to the table, ¡°I should have tried to get a force back here sooner. So much happened and I¡¯m still trying-¡±


    ¡°I get it, Mason. I wish the Darkest Night had returned sooner, but I don¡¯t blame you for that. But it¡¯s not the seals that worry me so much it¡¯s that¡­¡± she looked pained. ¡°Do you know what it¡¯s like being the only one of your race with a brain? I¡¯ve been able to talk to a few Biord and raise their intelligence somewhat, but Arlon was a genius. Geralt, too, could think, even if he was less of a conversationalist. But I¡¯ve become the de facto leader of my people because I¡¯m the smartest of them and I¡¯m honestly nowhere near Arlon¡¯s level.


    ¡°I can see all the ways we¡¯re really suffering. All the dangers that we are ill-prepared to handle, yet I¡¯m not smart enough to really know what to do about any of it. That¡¯s another reason I need your help. For at least a little while until the rest of the humans come, you¡¯re alone too.¡±


    Mason put a hand on hers and smiled, ¡°All you had to do was ask for my help, Bazy. You didn¡¯t have to go and make me sad about things. I know they¡¯re all kind of being assholes right now, but there¡¯s good people among the Marrans, too. A lot of them have risked their lives for me, and I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll do the same for you and the Biord if you let them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m certain they¡¯ll make good allies, Mason, albeit guided by a few threats. But I¡¯m counting on you to be a friend.¡±


    Mason shrugged, ¡°You¡¯ve got some seriously misplaced loyalty, Bazy. I haven¡¯t done anything for you.¡±


    She just smiled, with only the faintest hint of mischief buried in her features.

 ~ Sixty-Six - Alliance of the Darkest Night (Two)

    A few hours later, the representatives stood again before Bazy¡¯s throne, only this time, Mason sat in a small, but still elegant, chair next to her. The chair had not been there the first time the representatives took their stand, and the message was clear.


    Bazy knew exactly what the Marrans were going to do.


    The small woman, feeble as she looked, managed to carry with her all of the intelligence that was lacking from her people. It was unclear how she quite accomplished such rapid progress, but it left Mason¡¯s back prickling as he wondered at what secrets she was hiding.


    And there was no doubt she was hiding things. Her conversation with Mason had not been brief. She implored him to tell her everything that happened while he was away, asking in detail about how Mowry and Geralt were adjusting to their new quasi-lives within him, about what powers he had gained from training under Sorynel, and especially about the strange soul-mage Artorias. She probed deeply about the Tree of Memories, insisting that Mason not treat it lightly, but after talking to the bird-queen for so long, the human grew guarded.


    Bazy was no fool though. As she watched the details dry up in Mason¡¯s mouth, she curled her lips in a wry smile and continued to dig for what he would let loose, and then finally waved him off to rest. This last point she took seriously as she seemed to take everything now. Under armed guard, Mason was led to well-adorned quarters behind the throne room and far from the apartments he had first discovered with Shayjol.


    He had been strongly encouraged to take a nap in the comfortable bed, as Bazy did not want to begin the true meeting for several hours- to keep the Marrans waiting, of course. Mason obliged on the surface, but a mixture of nervousness and ambition drew him into the inner world which he was slowly growing familiar with, for a conversation with two people who he knew would have his best interest in mind.


    So when he found himself sitting in a seat of authority over the Marrans, next to Lady Bazy, Mason was better rested than he had been since entering the Trials, and patiently cautious. There were snakes in these reeds, but the lone human was learning to tell where they slithered.


    ¡°Well, now that all necessary parties are finally here, I say we begin,¡± Bazy announced over the unsettled looks of the Marrans. They understood the message that Bazy had laid out for them, and even Torysen and Leenel were uncomfortable with it. ¡°Mason, would you stand and state our position for our friends here?¡±


    All of his confidence cooled and froze stiff in his veins. Mason wondered if his eyes were bulging, and then considered that if they fell out of their sockets he¡¯d have an excellent excuse to dismiss himself. But when no such thing occurred, he stood stiffly and gazed down at the five Marrans and fought to remind himself not to look back at Bazy.


    She hadn¡¯t warned him of this, but of course, that was part of her plan. Wasn¡¯t it the same as when Torysen had tricked Leenel into defending him before the council? A unified front sometimes worked best when the only thing behind was a wall of spears.


    But what was he supposed to say? Mason racked his brains, trying to replay the conversation with Bazy before his nap. What did he say before the council at his impromptu trial? He needed to offer terms the Marrans could accept, while also providing the Biord and Humans some leverage in the future. Which meant he needed to insist upon their worth, and equally how dangerous they could be.


    Still stalling for time, he stepped forward, and slowly scanned the eyes of the Marrans, trying to wiggle his way into their minds. Something within him twisted, and he almost could see where each of them came from.


    Leenel was the daughter of one of the most powerful people known in this world, someone who had recently been abducted by the enemy. Her own daughter had just risked her life to protect Mason. She¡¯d want to know that Mason was worth the risk. She¡¯d want to know he was offering hope for the future.


    Torysen had both lost her brother, and gotten a fragment of him back through Mason. And the risk she had taken for his sake was no small one. She had sided with a dangerous, mystery element, and lost some of her own band defending him.


    Coltren and Manlen both considered Mason a threat. They didn¡¯t understand him and feared his power. But that fear could be turned against them, though it would make Mason more of a target for revenge schemes and plots. He didn¡¯t doubt for a minute that both of them would have lost people when the city fell, and for that, they probably hated to see Mason, who they didn¡¯t trust, standing above them.


    As for Eldran- he was a mystery. Mason hadn¡¯t yet gotten the full history between him and Faynel, and all he knew so far of the man was that he was some sort of noble, and wore that identity like a caricature.


    It was as hung a jury as Mason could hope for, and with Bazy pressuring him to make the first move, he knew that this was yet another trial. Presenting a united front would do no good if Mason was merely a weak link in the fence. He had to prove himself, here and now, as a force to be reckoned with and as a valuable representative of the humans.


    He took a deep breath and then loosed mana around him. This would draw the Marran¡¯s eyes to him, he knew, and also remind him of the ways he was changing. His Glamour skill activated, and he drew his mana signature around him like a cloak, forming the identity Faynel had showed him on their first day together. It was a thing that resembled Marran enough to not turn heads, but stood out as distinct and unusual under scrutiny. Not as corrupt as his Demon glamour, not as roughshod as his natural human self.


    Perhaps this wasn¡¯t what anyone present wanted to hear, but it seemed the best solution to Mason. He began, ¡°I first met your people through a small scouting family that should be well known to each of you. Shaywise, Treyjol, and their son, Shayjol. When I asked what your people were called, they told me that the Corrosi named you Darkest Night for your affinity for nighttime and for your skin.


    ¡°It was later explained to me that your people are actually Marran, of the planet Marra. But by that point, I had already expressed an intent to The Trials to embrace your ways, and it labelled me as a Darkest Night. You could say this was in error, but I believe that would be uncharitable. Darkest Night are those who have begun to adjust to the ways of The Trials, who fight for their people¡¯s rights to survive, who are willing to brave danger to grow stronger.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think any one of you have failed to question my judgments at this point, but I remain assured of my decisions, and confident that I can handle their consequences. Bazy believes in my ability to make good decisions, and I cannot think of a clearer way for her to have demonstrated that than by her letting me speak for our alliance. I thank you, Bazy,¡± he dipped his head a bit, and she waved gracefully.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He could see the Marrans glowering at him. Leenel and Torysen were doing more to conceal it, but even they were uncomfortable with the speech, and how long it was taking him to get to his point. He decided to go for it.


    ¡°I, with Bazy¡¯s consent, would like to propose we form the coalition of the Darkest Night to look out for the best interests of all our people. The time for holding on to old ways and old biases is gone. Lady Sorynel, one of the greatest of your people, entrusted me with powers and teachings from Marra because I believe she, too, saw the value in this future.


    ¡°Biord, Human, or Marran- we should unify under one banner and act accordingly. If the Goblins and Corrosi can work together, can we not? If we share resources and act for the benefits of all our people as if we are a single entity¡­¡±


    Manlen, always eager to battle, huffed himself up and began shouting, breathing heavy before he was more than a few words in, ¡°What nonsense! You¡¯ve said nothing but that you think we should abandon the history of our people. Should we treat with you Humans and Biord as if you share our history, our ideals, and our goals, even though we know nothing about you? It seems as if you just want us to hand over our secrets and our power-¡±


    ¡°Councilman Manlen, please take a moment to reflect,¡± Leenel interrupted. ¡°How is this different from the very same goal we walked in to pursue? Though I¡¯m loathe to take on the title of Darkest Night myself, an alliance between our three people seems obvious. We need the resources the Biord currently hold and they require our military strength to repel their enemies.¡±


    Coltren smashed his spear against the ground, ¡°And exactly what do either of us need from the Humans? The Demon himself is willing to abandon his people¡¯s identity so soon, so they may very well be weaker than the Biord. We should make a simple arrangement with the Biord to defend their city for as long as the mana and accommodations they are offering justify the dangers inherent in the deal. No more, no less, and no unnecessary alliances.¡±


    ¡°I thought I made myself very clear. I will not allow your people within my city without an alliance with my own and the Humans,¡± asserted Bazy.


    Manlen huffed, ¡°And what makes them so important to you? Is there something you¡¯re concealing from us?¡±


    Coltren seemed emboldened by Manlen¡¯s accusation, ¡°Your people lack military strength. What is to stop us from marching in here with our Defense Team and¡­¡±


    The room went deathly silent as Torysen rounded from her position and had her sword against Coltren¡¯s neck. None of the Biord moved in time to intervene, and Mason let go of his own blade before anyone noticed he had gone for it.


    Her voice was almost a hiss, ¡°You will not speak out of turn again. If I hear anyone talk about waging war against a possible ally, I will cut them down myself, no matter what the council or anyone else suggests. Am I clear?¡±


    Coltren gulped, and said nothing for fear of saying the wrong thing, so Torysen finally sheathed her sword and turned to Lady Bazy. ¡°I have long considered myself a Darkest Night, in the very sense that young Mason speaks of. If forming an alliance of those who would survive in the Trials is truly your wish, and if you too will bear the name Darkest Night and stand alongside me, I will pledge my sword to that effort. I have no doubt my band and several of my personal allies will follow me readily.¡± She turned and locked eyes with Mason, but said nothing.


    ¡°You drew your sword on a fellow Marran, Captain. I should have the council strip you of your power and-¡± Coltren complained through heavy breaths.


    ¡°Oh shut up,¡± Lady Bazy interrupted. ¡°If you didn¡¯t hear, she¡¯s already expressed her willingness to switch her allegiances if necessary. But I did not draw you all here to form a coup. I would like a peaceable arrangement favorable to all, if that is a possibility. You there, with the beautiful clothes and fairer face. You¡¯ve said nothing, not even your name to me. Where do you stand?¡±


    Eldran looked up at her and Mason realized he had somehow forgotten the noble was even there. He hadn¡¯t taken part in the shouting match, and despite very clearly having the strength and speed to react to Torysen¡¯s attack on Coltren, hadn¡¯t done anything to intervene. Even now, his eyes looked cloudy as if he were deep in thought. Mason made a mental note to inquire more into this unusual character later.


    ¡°My family has long held sway on New Marra. For all of the changes in magical theory, for all of the rising and falling of cities, there has always been an El¡¯ to weigh in on that age¡¯s wars and politics. We are not on New Marra though, and the will of the family has not defined objectives for a scenario such as The Trials. That leaves me to rely on my family¡¯s final directive; Protect the Family,¡± he spoke in a slow drawl that made even his arrhythmic speech sound like a chant.


    ¡°I witnessed the Council hole itself up and lead New Marra to destruction, and I failed to intervene. The Trials will not go away, and we have seen whole populations appear before our very feet while we tried to hide behind high walls. The family El¡¯ will join the alliance of the Darkest Night. Protecting the Family has always meant siding with the stronger force, and the old ways will not overcome the new.


    ¡°I am Eldran, of the Family El¡¯. I would ask to serve on the Council of the alliance of the Darkest Night, alongside you, Lady Bazy.¡±


    ¡°Now hold on here-¡± Manlen huffed, and was interrupted once more, this time by Bazy¡¯s upraised hand.


    ¡°Mason mentioned you, and not favorably. And I am no queen to appoint members singlehandedly. We will take it under advisement, however. Mason, what are your thoughts?¡± Bazy asked.


    The human didn¡¯t respond immediately, but stepped down from his position on the dias to level with Eldran. There were a great many things that he didn¡¯t understand about the noble, but there were a few that he did. Quietly, Mason addressed him face to face, ¡°You said my people were dirty, called me a pet, and threatened me. Of course, none of this makes you special, but I want to know why you would want to serve in an alliance with more of my kind if you¡¯ll so flippantly write us off.¡±


    Eldran looked ready to explain, but Mason talked over him, louder now, ¡°More importantly, I want to know what you plan to offer that makes you worthy of serving in a leadership role. You¡¯ve said your family¡¯s name but that means nothing to me, and nothing to Bazy, and as far as I know you didn¡¯t even serve on the council of New Marra. If your people suggest you as a representative, we¡¯d have to consider it thoughtfully, but if you¡¯re merely claiming a right to it then why should we care? I just made an entire speech, and you made a similar one, about how the old ways were dead. So what do they matter?¡±


    Eldran seethed where he stood, and it was clear his pride was hurt. That was what Mason wanted to see. How would the noble react when he wasn¡¯t given the respect he thought he deserved? To Mason¡¯s surprise, he took a quiet breath and his expression calmed before he replied, ¡°My family did not serve for no reason. We receive extensive training and carry on our person¡¯s a great deal of historical knowledge, including tactics, economics, and magics. I brought these secrets with me into The Trials.


    ¡°I had thought they were best kept to myself. The Council of New Marra wanted nothing to do with growing their strength, and power contained within high walls has a history of becoming dangerous. I did not want to see needless civil war. But if we are willing to take the fight to our enemies, then I am willing to put forth my knowledge. I offer you the secrets of the family ¡®El, and will personally begin training the armed forces in the many Spell Runes I have to offer. This I do in the name of the alliance.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Mason grinned, ¡°Then you don¡¯t offer all your secrets in exchange for a seat of power. That¡¯s a good first step. Lady Bazy and I will greatly appreciate your free and generous assistance, and when we are ready to settle the formalities of the alliance we¡¯ll consider you for a seat if you have your people¡¯s consent.¡±


    In another surprising turn, Eldran smiled confidently at this obvious trick, and even bowed. ¡°I remain true to my word and respect your honored opinions.¡± Then he moved closer to Mason and whispered quickly, ¡°We will settle our personal differences without an audience, and you will speak poorly of me no more.¡±


    The noble backed off quickly enough that nobody needed to respond, and Mason turned back toward his seat to hide his shock. He felt tangled in a complicated web, or for lack of a better metaphor, greatly out of his depth. What would humanity say when they discovered how he was selling them?

 ~ Sixty-Seven - Alliance of the Darkest Night (Three)

    Mason was exhausted as he laid down in his chambers in the royal quarters after a long day of negotiations and bickering. At least the old Mason would have considered this state as exhausted. It was draining trying to keep up a cordiality with dignitaries who all thought they knew best, and who all thought they were surrounded by short-sighted fools. It wasn¡¯t, however, quite the same as being mauled or poisoned or cut or stabbed or burned with acid.


    Thankfully, a part of him was learning to count his blessings. His stomach was still warm and bulging from dinner, and all said the negotiations hadn¡¯t gone poorly. There was, of course, the vague sense that his throat would be slit by any number of Marrans if he let his guard down in the coming weeks, and he knew the talks were far from over, but for the most part, the alliance of the Darkest Night was beginning to come together.


    Bazy had drawn him aside between the negotiations and dinner to congratulate him on his efforts, and apologize for repeatedly shoving him in the line of fire, but her reward was fairly considerable. Dinner had been a feast, and he¡¯d gotten to see all of the Biord he had vaguely befriended on his first trip here. They were friendly, though they took some time to warm up to him, but he was grateful to see them nonetheless.


    When dinner was done though, all he could think about doing was finding Faynel and Leornal. Even Senkar and Sentir¡­ hm, had he known that there were so many Sen¡¯s around, he suddenly wondered. Family names were odd among the Marrans. It seemed last names passed down from mother to daughter or father to son, but first names swapped back and forth. That meant only last names were gendered, right? And Senkar had said he wasn¡¯t related to Torysen, so maybe that meant Senkar and Sentir were both related somehow. He¡¯d ask later.


    That was, if he ever got to have a civil conversation with his Marran friends again. He was still part of Torysen¡¯s Band in theory, but it was uncertain whether that standard of military organization would even be maintained with the new alliance. This city¡¯s needs were much different than New Marra, and they had to be prepared as the Biord- or if the Biord- ever became battle competent, not to mention if they suddenly had a few thousand humans to swell their ranks.


    And Mason would be lying to himself if all this talk of alliances hadn¡¯t brought his attention quite firmly back onto the problem of what to do when the humans arrived. They would not like the arrangement he made. There was no way they would show up in The Trials and be able to understand how things worked, how critical it was that they embrace this alliance.


    Plus, Mason was supposedly dropped in this world to figure out a way to prepare humanity for it, but the path he¡¯d taken wasn¡¯t quite easily exportable. Mastering mana had been an arduous, miserable undertaking borne of sheer necessity. If the humans can form a decent living, they won¡¯t see the need for it. Even if they did, would they be able to adapt to mana without modifying their souls? Mason looked across the room to see his staff sitting on a short dresser, and shuddered. He could dive deeper into the mysteries of soul arts, and that might be essential in the long run, but it wouldn¡¯t earn him any friends in the present. Not to mention it scared him half to death to think of what would happen if he went full-on Demon and rampaged again.


    It was too much to think about, and the anxiety was threatening to push out all the delicious food he had stuffed himself with. Switching tracts, he shifted his perception into his soulscape and addressed his companions there.


    ¡°Given anymore thought to what we discussed, Mowrytal?¡± Mason asked.


    This time the two, and Mason suspected mostly Geralt, had redecorated so they were on top of a large round platform that rose high above an ethereal ocean. The sky around them was red and unchanging- a perpetual sunset.


    ¡°You should not ask this of us. You should forbid it,¡± the Marran replied.


    ¡°Yeah, you said that before. But I¡¯m ignoring that advice and asking you to help me. I don¡¯t mind giving you two more freedom. Things are dangerous enough as is, and if either of you betray me I¡¯m pretty confident Demon will take over and rip you to shreds anyways. I¡¯ve got more to gain than lose.¡±


    ¡°It is a good idea,¡± Geralt added. He was in full battle regalia, and stood, armed, on one side of the platform, maybe a hundred feet away from where Mason and Mowry talked. Fortunately, sound didn¡¯t actually travel in the soulscape, so they all heard each other perfectly.


    ¡°It¡¯s a poor habit to form. Mason, you are far too trusting, and eventually you will die for it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m asking for your help on the off-chance that it¡¯ll delay my death. There¡¯s too much going on at all times for me to watch my own back, and I don¡¯t have nearly enough allies. So let me trust you two and make use of you. The very fact that you¡¯re so hesitant to take the power is why I know I can trust you with it,¡± Mason said.


    ¡°You took your power over the Darkest Night fairly easily, Mason. Should they be concerned about your intentions?¡± Geralt asked.


    Mason shrugged, ¡°I guess I have something in common with you, Geralt. I don¡¯t fear power. And I think I made my intentions clear. I¡¯m going to conquer The Trials to the best of my ability because I¡¯m pretty sure that anyone who doesn¡¯t will end up dead quicker than they¡¯d hope. If any of them have a problem with that then, yeah, they probably shouldn¡¯t trust me.¡±


    ¡°Well said, but back to the matter at hand¡­¡±


    Something jostled Mason, but it took him a moment to realize that it was a feeling in reality, not the soulscape. He switched between the perspectives so easily he had almost forgotten that his awareness could move on its own, and he felt muddled as he tried to refocus on reality. Once he did, he saw a familiar face in an unfamiliar outfit.


    Faynel stared at him expectantly wearing a blue and pink tunic. It was unusually feminine for her, and when she caught him staring, she immediately rolled her eyes, ¡°Formal clothes. There have been meetings all day, and as a daughter ¡®Nel I was obviously forced to attend them. You¡¯ve caused quite the stir.¡±


    He bit back an automatic smile at the sight of her. Of course he¡¯d been wanting to see her and catch up, but he thought that leaving his quarters would be both dangerous and foolish until the resettlement crisis was more resolved. However, the longer he looked at her, the more something seemed off. He flicked between Focus, Mana Sight, and was about to cast Analyze when she said abruptly, ¡°Mason!¡±


    ¡°What? Oh, sorry. Yeah, so you¡¯ve heard about the alliance? Potential alliance, I guess?¡± His face was still scrunched up, and he felt unsettled seeing her next to him, and it unsettled him more that he thought he¡¯d be cheered up to see her.


    She looked down when she realized what was bothering him, ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d notice of all people. It¡¯s the Glamour.¡± When he just looked more confused she explained, ¡°It¡¯s not just people in our band who can tell, after all. You¡¯ve got a really distinctive mana signature and so the mingling did a number on mine.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said dumbly. Then, ¡°Oh! Oh I¡¯m so sorry. Yeah, you can glamour or whatever you need to do, I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡± something warm flitted around his hand, and he looked down. Their hands were only inches away as they leaned toward one another on the bed, but he could feel and see a strand of mana pulling from her toward him, trying to connect with his own.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    He pulled his hand away, and then she looked embarrassed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I shouldn¡¯t have just presumed...¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine,¡± he sent a tendril of mana out himself. ¡°I just thought¡­ isn¡¯t this something intimate with your people?¡±


    Her mana wrapped up with his, and the connection formed. It wasn¡¯t a full mingling, just enough to send pulses of emotion between one another. It was strange for both of them being connected like that, but equally comforting. The intimacy was the sort of thing that, once initiated, was hard to retract from, but at the same time it wasn¡¯t sensual in the same way that a gentle touch could be. The mingling was too honest and companionable to ever be hedonistic.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she confirmed simply.


    ¡°Right.¡± He blushed, but he was smiling too. ¡°So, tell me about the meetings. How many people want me dead and what were the more creative ways?¡±


    She laughed then, ¡°Well, Valree unsurprisingly still blames you for just about all bad things that have ever happened. Did you know that you apparently broke down the city gates yourself? Nevermind that Valree herself watched you flee off into the woods with us.¡±


    If his eyes rolled any harder he¡¯d probably snap a nerve, ¡°Do you think she¡¯s being deliberately obtuse or is she just a nut job? How did she even get offered a position of authority if she¡¯s going to attack random political figures in the streets?¡±


    ¡°Everyone feels the way The Trials are dissolving rules, Mason. In her mind, she¡¯s doing the right thing, and there¡¯s no telling what version of the story she actually believes. The obvious fact is that she, like a lot of other people, think you¡¯re either connected or responsible, and they¡¯re out for blood.¡±


    ¡°But not you, right?¡±


    Despite their connection, she laid her hand so their fingers overlapped, ¡°Would I be here if I was?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be the only reasonable place for an assassin to be. And you never actually told me why you were here.¡±


    She just kept smiling. The feeling of his amusement was heady between them, and it relaxed her to feel it. ¡°Well they were going to send Leornal but he and I both suggested that I might be the better option. I have a little more clout in the political sphere than the cranky old archer anyways.¡±


    ¡°Right, politics. I¡¯m drowning in them already and we¡¯ve only been in the city a short while. How much did you hear?¡±


    She shrugged, ¡°I heard plenty but nothing coming down the grapevine is reliable. And to hear Torysen¡¯s own accounts you actually managed to negotiate like you knew what you were doing. Once I heard you put Eldran in his place I knew that someone had messed with her memory.¡±


    ¡°I think put him in is his place is a bit of an overstatement. I impressed the importance of pitching in upon him.¡±


    ¡°Do you know how much was offered him so that he¡¯d pass on some of his family¡¯s secrets when we first entered The Trials? The only one who didn¡¯t appeal to him was Lady Sorynel herself!¡±


    ¡°Well she¡¯s probably the only one who would have held some sway over him. For all his pretentious behavior, he seems to have a lot going on we don¡¯t know about. I think he was looking for an opportunity to do something in The Trials, something real. But would you have handed over a bunch of power to someone like Valree or Manlen?¡±


    Fire shot through their connection and poured from Faynel¡¯s violet eyes, ¡°He¡¯s not that complex.¡±


    Mason considered arguing, but the ferocity turned on him at that moment made him think better of it. ¡°Perhaps not. But we¡¯ll see what he does next, right? This is the age of the Darkest Night. We either fight against The Trials or die in a bunch of dank caves.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully he¡¯s truly in favor of fighting,¡± she nodded. ¡°So the real reason I¡¯m here is to warn you not to leave without guards. Torysen already discussed with Bazy, but you¡¯re supposed to approve a short list of people you trust as guards, and Bazy plans to supplement them with some of your Biord friends. We want to continue your training as well, and there¡¯s apparently already a sparring arena that¡¯s magically reinforced back somewhere in this labyrinth.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Mason mock saluted. ¡°Is it really so dangerous as that?¡±


    ¡°The resettlement is getting started, which means a great many people moving unpredictably as they find their quarters and we begin trying to figure out how to distribute mana without Sorynel, not to mention actual food and¡­¡±


    ¡°Sorynel? What does she have to do with things? I mean, I gather she¡¯s important to your people and she¡¯s definitely powerful but I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Faynel look incredulous, ¡°You felt the mana pouring out of her, right? She was what fed New Marra in terms of mana. She has such a strong connection to Source that she was like a reservoir of mana. We only used mana stones for when we were travelling or for when we needed more than enough to subsist on. Without her we need to begin harvesting mana from the tunnels urgently.¡±


    ¡°How did nobody mention this during hours and hours of negotiations?¡±


    ¡°Most likely they didn¡¯t want Bazy to realize how desperate we really are. She¡¯s playing a much more aggressive game than we ever expected, and if she realizes how much leverage she actually has, who knows what she¡¯ll demand?¡±


    Mason sat back and reflected on this revelation. It definitely cleared up a great deal of his confusion, but most importantly, it impressed upon him how critical it was that those negotiations move quickly, and that he break down the seals. ¡°From what you know of New Marra¡¯s fighting forces, how quickly do you think they could be ready to lead cautious incursions beyond the seals, if we have to have a group barricade each entrance?¡±


    Faynel looked up as she thought about it, trying to sort through the intelligence she¡¯d been provided and what she knew personally of the fighters, ¡°If we¡¯re aiming for minimal casualties, I¡¯d say four days, especially if there are no Biord fighters at our sides. If there are some reasonably well-trained, and we can get them practicing with our groups tomorrow, possibly we could be ready in three.¡±


    ¡°Well, then I think that needs to be the subject of everyone¡¯s discussions tomorrow, and hopefully by the end of the day we can get people preparing.¡±


    A rush of excitement and joy rushed through their connection, and Faynel grabbed Mason¡¯s hand tightly. ¡°That is exactly what I was hoping to hear you say.¡±


    He felt his own disposition swayed by her enthusiasm, but a critical part of his mind looked at her warily, ¡°Are you still playing me rather than working with me?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± she said with a wink. ¡°But there¡¯s something else to consider,¡± her tone shifted to serious, ¡°We don¡¯t know how deep the city is beyond the seals. Even talking to the Biord, we¡¯ve got no real idea of what¡¯s waiting for us other than that it might be a serious threat throughout a very large area. With our current forces, we might be able to push back a defensive line, but we¡¯ve got no chance of clearing that area out.¡±


    ¡°What will we do if the Corrosi locate us and decide to attack while all of our forces are occupied in the tunnels?¡± Mason asked, quickly grasping where she was going.


    ¡°Exactly. We need to increase our forces, and quickly.¡±


    ¡°But the humans aren¡¯t supposed to arrive for some time still, I¡¯m not sure¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about the humans. We can¡¯t continue to let people pretend this world isn¡¯t dangerous. New Marra was defended by less than a tenth of the population. Do you think the Corrosi or Goblins let over half of their people sit around pretending they¡¯re safe?¡±


    ¡°You want us to force people to fight? But what good will they even be if they¡¯re doing it against their will? Won¡¯t we have to expend twice as much effort drilling them and forcing them into combat? Deserters could ruin morale quickly,¡± Mason stood then, pacing the room as he considered the implications of the suggestion.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way, Mason. This isn¡¯t civilization, it¡¯s survival. We have a lot of enemies, and good reason to believe The Trials will send more our way. I don¡¯t think we need to send everyone to the front lines, but we need to make sure everyone is prepared to defend themselves, and earns their keep.¡±


    He bit his lip and looked away from her. Negotiating alliances was one thing. What did it cost Mason to demand that people get along and show each other respect?


    But to demand that they fight whether they like it or not? That was a heavy burden.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think on it. I¡¯m not going to make this decision myself, but I will run it by several other people. I presume Torysen suggested this in the first place?¡±


    Faynel shook her head, ¡°It was me. But she agreed when Leornal backed me up. That¡¯s the real reason they sent me to talk to you. You hold a lot of clout in these discussions with Bazy forcing everyone to listen to you. If you bring this up, they have to consider it.¡±


    ¡°Do I have to consider it?¡± He suddenly felt very tired.


    Mason realized then that she had been gently pulsing calming emotions through their connection the whole time. She must have predicted that this was going to push him further than he was prepared to go, but her reassurances were subtle enough he might not have even noticed them if it weren¡¯t for the burst of sorrow and fear that filled the connection before she cut it off entirely.


    They stared at each other quietly for a moment, and then finally Faynel answered him, ¡°I don¡¯t want to see another city destroyed because we weren¡¯t willing to make the hard choices. If it makes a Demon of all of us, wouldn¡¯t it be worth our survival?¡±

 ~ Sixty-Eight - Alliance of the Darkest Night (Four)

    Half an hour later, they leaned against the wall mere inches from one another. They were both mentally exhausted from the discussion after having gone back and forth on the merits and risks involved in militarizing their entire alliance. It was, as she insisted, the logical next step for the Darkest Night, but a small part of both of them wondered if that might not be the dark trick of The Trials.


    But when it was obvious they weren¡¯t going to settle anything that night, and especially not without more and greater minds weighing in on the matter, they agreed to put the matter to rest and to do the same with themselves.


    ¡°So what is there to do for fun around here? Watch dew form on the ceiling of the tunnels? Watch moss grow on the walls?¡± Mason nudged her gently, and she elbowed him back.


    ¡°It¡¯s too soon to tell. Between training and negotiating before we lift the seals, I don¡¯t think there will be a lot of free time to spare. But I could see us making a great game of resealing the stone-work and cleaning out the residential quarters, too.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, luxury. I should have come to The Trials years ago. It was so boring back on Earth with our endless supply of movies, music, and video games. I always wanted to live in caves under the constant threat of assassination or war.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a real cynic, you know? What about all the great things you¡¯ve gained here?¡±


    He raised an eyebrow, ¡°I might be forgetting those.¡±


    She pressed her palm to the side of his head and a burst of force pushed him gently to the side, ¡°Magic, perhaps? Or me.¡± Her voice turned coy on that second suggestion, but she covered with, ¡°And the rest of the Band, of course. Did you ever think you would be as strong or fast as you are now?¡±


    ¡°Speaking of,¡± Mason took the bait to move the subject along, ¡°I need your help.¡±


    ¡°With what?¡± she asked with genuine curiosity.


    Mason hopped out of the bed and pulled a crystal ball from his bag, the same he had received from Lady Sorynel before the world had turned upside down. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do with this.¡±


    Faynel¡¯s eyes narrowed and she looked between Mason and the orb, then her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide, ¡°You can¡¯t read!¡±


    The human looked back at her in horror, ¡°What? No! I mean, yes I can. I just don¡¯t know how read out of a crystal? We use paper in my world. Or I guess screens. Either way it¡¯s like¡­ sigils? Lots of sigils in order to form words?¡±


    ¡°Oh thank goodness,¡± she laughed harder than necessary and relaxed back against the wall again. ¡°Right, no magic. You couldn¡¯t use mana to pull data out of a stone. But screens? I guess that has something to do with your sun sight, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to say yes because I don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth the full explanation. I¡¯ll probably never see a screen again at this rate. But yeah, so I just dip my mana in and then what? Leornal connected me to a terminal once, but I didn¡¯t have to figure out how to navigate it.¡±


    Faynel got off the bed, moved over to him, and then wrapped their mana together, guiding it into the orb and showing him how to delve through the information contained within. Mason found he could read the written language, but that was only a small fraction of what the orb contained. Fragments of memories, feelings, and energy patterns danced around his consciousness as they skimmed through.


    Only a minute had passed before Mason pulled back and out of that awareness, anxiety gripping his chest as he was overwhelmed by the sheer diversity and intensity of what was contained in that orb.


    ¡°Was that- what was that?¡± Mason asked, almost gasping as he spoke.


    Faynel grimaced, ¡°A lot. That¡¯s what it was. I¡¯m sorry, I should have found something to show you, rather than flipping through with you. It¡¯s hard to remember how inexperienced you are with everything. And Sorynel¡¯s teachings were fairly intense even for me. But you saw it, right?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± he muttered as he tried to recall what he had seen. He felt like he was trying to quote a verse from a book he had merely flipped through. ¡°I think I can see why going through these teachings is supposed to be difficult.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to try again? Let me find a piece of writing, and we can start with the easy stuff.¡±


    Mason nodded, and gave Faynel his hand.


    ~~


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re both clothed so I suppose I don¡¯t have to be too jealous, but I still imagine there are a great many questions the two of you will be answering today,¡± Bazy spoke casually from the entrance to the room.


    Groaning, Mason roused himself and pulled his arm out from under Faynel as he looked about the room. Sure enough, Bazy stood smiling in the doorway, and at her side looked to be Merek, the larger, almost intelligent Biord Mason had dealt with before. Mason rubbed at his eyes as Faynel plopped back down on the bed, seeming to have decided she was safe enough to continue sleeping.


    ¡°We were up late. Studying. What time is it?¡± Mason asked.


    ¡°Early, but late enough that I was requested to check on a certain woman who may or may not have disappeared overnight. It seems I misjudged your popularity, Mason.¡± The look on Bazy¡¯s face was one of a cruel glee as she relished every bit of dirt she could get on her new ally.


    Mason ignored her and bent down to shake Faynel, but she seemed nonplussed by his efforts until he began to pull at her arms to get her to sit up. Her hair was a mess and she looked twice as sleepy as Mason, but she eventually roused herself and considered the Biord in the doorway.


    With a wry smile, she asked through a dry mouth, ¡°I suppose this is an unprofessional way to be meeting the Queen of the Biord?¡±


    Bazy waved her off, ¡°My standards are low, and at least I know now that you can be trusted. It¡¯s not a statement I¡¯ll make for a great many. I suppose I¡¯ll invite the both of you to breakfast, if you can rouse yourselves. You can tell me all about your studies.¡±


    ¡°And if I insist that¡¯s private?¡± Faynel challenged on instinct.


    ¡°You¡¯re a very difficult people, do you know that? Merek, do you think if I ordered you to strike her that she¡¯d put up a very difficult fight?¡±


    The larger Biord chuckled, ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain she¡¯d stop me before I could land a hit, Lady Bazy. You¡¯ll have to leave her whatever secrets she¡¯d like.¡±


    Mason interrupted, ¡°Does everything have to be a battle? Merek, I know Bazy is your de facto leader, but if you promise to keep her under control I¡¯ll try to convince Faynel to stop fighting everyone that crosses her path, deal?¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ve become a pacifist then? Here I heard you were a Demon on the battlefield,¡± Merek said.


    There was an awkward moment of silence before Bazy announced, ¡°Breakfast, everyone, and I¡¯ll have no complaints.¡±


    Breakfast was composed of strange, but palatable, fare. The Biord were not an impressive race by any measure, but their ingenuity with food was commendable. They¡¯d cultivated a wide range of lichens and mushrooms as well as several plants nobody but the Biord could really identify at all. Much of it seemed subterranean in nature- tubers and roots were common- but there were several more leafy plants and something resembling a grain. All in all, it was heavily vegetarian as most of the Biord¡¯s meat farms were hidden beyond the seals, but what really pulled the meal together was the vast and complicated array of seasonings and spices.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Somehow they had discovered how to extract and enhance the flavors of their produce so excellently that the long table was awash in flavorful and nutritious dishes. Even the Marrans for the splendour of their fallen city, had lacked such palate diversity.


    There was no doubt in Bazy¡¯s mind that she had especially pulled out all the stops for this specific meal. He looked around the room and saw that the Biord and Marrans lining the table were chatting excitedly, with the smaller bird people gesturing at a specific dressing or ladling a helping of some dish onto one of the Marran¡¯s plates. It had broken down barriers in an unexpected way, and Bazy surveyed the room with an expression that was unabashedly smug.


    She offered Mason a loaded plate, and the human smiled back at her and took it. He wasn¡¯t about to pass up good food just because it was a ploy of some sort. But once he had sampled the fare, he finally spoke up, ¡°I notice a specific commonality around the room, Bazy.¡±


    ¡°Whatever do you mean, Ambassador?¡± Bazy teased, taking another bite of her own meal.


    ¡°There¡¯s not a single person in this room that couldn¡¯t be obviously identified as someone who had supported me in someway. Lany, would you come over here real quick?¡±


    The Biord squawked and looked up from where he had been talking with Leornal, and the archer looked on suspiciously as Lany hopped from his seat and rushed over. ¡°Dem- Mason, sir! I¡¯m¡­ you, I- You know my name? That¡¯s uh- that¡¯s real good. Yep. Bazy said- er, Lady Bazy, she..¡±


    Mason cut him off, ¡°Lany, relax. Of course I remember you. You helped fight Geralt¡¯s men with me, and I never got a chance to thank you. But I¡¯ve got a question for you. What did Bazy tell you as she invited you to breakfast this morning?¡±


    The stammering bird-lizard man- or was that boy?- looked as if he would rather run out of the room than have this discussion, but when Bazy rolled her eyes and waved her hand, he finally choked out, ¡°She uh- she said we were to make you and your friends real welcome. Said that uh- the Marrans were too proud to-¡±


    This time, Bazy interrupted, ¡°That¡¯s plenty, Lany. Go return to your meal.¡± She turned on Mason then, clearly forcing herself to look less amused than she was, ¡°Am I so transparent? You had to know I¡¯d get to my point soon enough. I suppose you¡¯ve lost your taste for good company and rest?¡±


    ¡°You could say that,¡± Mason grinned. ¡°You know, it might be considered poor taste to invite three of the six representatives you¡¯re supposed to be dealing with over a decadent, closed-door meal.¡± Both Leenel and Torysen suddenly turned attentively to the head of the table, and though a few quiet conversations continued, it was clear that nobody present was surprised that this breakfast was more than a friendly affair.


    ¡°I simply invited those who were willing to stick their necks out for my ambassador as a way of saying thanks. If it turns out that I can make common cause with those same allies and present a united front at the next round of negotiations, well, that¡¯s a happy coincidence.¡±


    Mason turned the conversation then, ¡°How did you gain your role so easily, Bazy? Geralt and Arlon had a pretty effective fighting force, by Biord standards at least. But you somehow got them to stand down and follow you without so much as a battle?¡±


    The Biord Queen gasped gently, ¡°You insult me. I fought with words for my position.¡±


    ¡°More like none of us wanted it,¡± Merek chuckled from behind her.


    She shot a glare back at him, ¡°That may have played a role. Lany, what would you say if I asked you to become king in place of me?¡±


    If Lany looked nervous when Mason had talked to him, he looked ready to jump out of his feathers now. ¡°No!¡± he burst out, to a round of laughter from those around him that understood the joke.


    Shovelknight- who Mason realized he still needed to get the name of- spoke up from the other end of the table then. ¡°Why would anyone want to have to argue and make decisions all day long when they didn¡¯t have to?¡±


    Bazy tilted her head as she looked back at Mason, ¡°I¡¯ve explained my plight to you several times now, Mason. The Biord are not an ambitious people. What little of our history I¡¯ve uncovered is not flattering. We are very good at hiding and making ourselves comfortable, and little else. It¡¯s the same reason we didn¡¯t put up a better fight against Arlon, and why I didn¡¯t consider for a moment taking down the seals without a military force worth a little more than my own.¡±


    ¡°And so what is the united front you¡¯re hoping to present at today¡¯s negotiations?¡± Mason urged.


    ¡°You must know I had a whole plan as to how to bring this up today? You¡¯re disrupting that, and after I went through all this trouble to gather your friends around you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve had a great many conversations about Mason¡¯s unpredictability,¡± Torysen said suddenly. ¡°It is one of his more endearing traits.¡±


    ¡°As well as one of his most unmanageable ones. But here he¡¯s right. This collusion is risky, and it may be best we get to the point,¡± Councilwoman Leenel added.


    Bazy sighed and threw up her arms, ¡°Very well. It¡¯s about the seals¡­¡±


    ¡°We should bring them down in three days, four if your Biord prove worthless in a fight. I think we should begin organizing squads today and stationing them at each of the seals. Our official story can be that there is not enough food or mana to go around in just the royal quarters alone, and that we need to be able to assess our threat and push into the rest of the city urgently before people starve,¡± Faynel insisted to the surprise of most everyone in the room besides Mason.


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Mason affirmed, ¡°But there¡¯s more to it. I¡¯m sure we¡¯re not the only ones who¡¯ve realized that we don¡¯t have the strength to clear through a city with just the military fighters we have now. If we start in with a resource scarcity story now, it¡¯ll be much easier to make a case that we need to start enlisting and training as many people as possible, and that it¡¯s a requirement in order to receive a share of food and mana.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m the one colluding?¡± Bazy accused, looking between Faynel and Mason with new understanding. ¡°What else have you two discussed?¡±


    ¡°Faynel don¡¯t you believe we should discuss these tactics privately before we¡­¡± her mother started.


    Faynel didn¡¯t hesitate though, ¡°New Marra fell with hardly any resistance because the moment the enemy broke through our gates, we had no way to defend ourselves. We can¡¯t continue to insist that it¡¯s acceptable for their to be civilians and fighters. This world is dangerous, and we have more enemies than we can resist. Once we clear the city and fortify, we need to have the strength to push back against the Corrosi, the Goblins, and whatever else The Trials has to throw at us.¡±


    This simple declaration was met with silent contemplation around the table. It wasn¡¯t an unusual claim- in fact, most of the Marrans could remember hearing that very subject debated when they first entered The Trials. But the suggestion hadn¡¯t held quite the same weight when their enemies fought in units of ten or less. Now that they were marching as armies of thousands¡­


    ¡°She¡¯s right and we all know it,¡± Leornal announced, standing. ¡°I presume you brought us here today to make that very case. What else have the Darkest Night ever stood for? And surely our very own Demon has made the case for taking The Trials seriously since he first started causing trouble for all of us.¡±


    ¡°I guess I have,¡± Mason added non-committally. ¡°I don¡¯t love the idea of forcing innocent people into dangerous combat, but I think it¡¯s foolish to pretend that¡¯s something we¡¯re doing to them. The Trials forced all of us into a dangerous situation, and it¡¯s awfully cowardly that some people think they can let the rest of us handle those problems for them.¡± He was starting to feel more heated as he talked- how had he ignored how obvious this was? ¡°Faynel was a dancer and a runner, I delivered food and had only ever held a plastic sword, and Leornal used to spend his days doing math. If we can become competent fighters, then so can everyone else.¡±


    ¡°We still need people to handle our food, our medicine, building, or anything else that the alliance deems necessary. There¡¯s work for those who absolutely can¡¯t fight, or those who are better skilled elsewise. But I agree that everyone should be ready to defend themselves,¡± Torysen said.


    ¡°Now wait a second. My mother may be a famed adventurer, but I am not going to go out there and fight those¡­ those things!¡± Leenel stood up and brought attention to her panic. She was pale, and was already breathing heavy from fear.


    ¡°Seriously, Mother?¡± Faynel asked with disgust.


    Mason interceded though, ¡°From what I hear, you¡¯ve been a politician since before The Trials, and from my perspective, you¡¯re a good one, too. You can lead people, help us make the right decisions, and there¡¯s value in that. But who got you out of New Marra as it fell? If a goblin had run up to you with a dagger, would you know how to protect yourself?¡±


    Leornal had moved over to her and grabbed one of her hands, ¡°Nobody is talking about putting you on the front lines. But there are a lot of people among us that could be, but chose not to because it wasn¡¯t demanded of them. We need more people fighting, and we need everyone to be able to defend themselves if something bad happens.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, my own fighting forces are frail, but when your council described to me your military strength yesterday, I knew immediately that it wasn¡¯t enough,¡± Bazy admitted. ¡°This is a question of survival. Arlon may have been cruel, and we Biord may be cowardly, but that was a point we saw eye-to-eye on. The vast majority of my city is lost to me because we weren¡¯t able to find the strength to protect it, and your entire city was lost to you for the same reason. Will we let our alliance fall to a third tragedy of this sort?¡±


    Leenel looked right at her daughter, her eyes hollow, ¡°I didn¡¯t even want you to fight, and look at the trouble you¡¯ve gotten into.¡±


    Faynel laughed at that, ¡°I was able to stay alive while our city burned, and I saved a good friend of mine. If I had been too afraid to learn how to fight, I could be dead right now.¡±


    Leornal pulled the woman to himself and wrapped her in a hug. He whispered something in her ear, and she began to cry while everyone looked on silently.


    Lany broke the silence, ¡°Should we do something?¡±


    Despite her tears, Leenel laughed weakly, pulling herself from Leornal and looking back at her daughter, then around the room. It suddenly occurred to her that she was one of the only people there, even among the weaker Biord, that had never been in a fight. ¡°We should do something. We should defend our alliance.¡±

 ~ Sixty-Nine - Alliance of the Darkest Night (Five)

    ¡°You¡¯re sure about this?¡± Faynel asked as she took up her fighting pose opposite Mason.


    Leornal looked up from the story he was reading and then looked back to it. No blood meant no problem, and he¡¯d have his turn to spar soon enough. The three of them had been training privately all afternoon, ever since Mason had laid forth the breakfast¡¯s proposal in front of the representatives. It had quickly become clear that the Marrans would have to fight this out among themselves, and Mason had been glad to stay clear of that war.


    He knew he was being used as a scapegoat, but it hardly bothered him. The proposal made sense, and he stood by everything he¡¯d said or suggested so far. It was fine then for everyone to blame him as if everything was his idea. If the plans worked out, he¡¯d be thanked for them eventually, and if they didn¡¯t, most likely he¡¯d be dead.


    A few words had been pulsing through his mind for days, the same ones that had been burnt into the field when he first arrived in The Trials. Find strength. Guide them. He wanted to do just that, and the more he thought about that first message and what he knew about The Trials, the more baffling it seemed that New Marra had ever thought it could sequester itself away from the troubles of this world.


    Find strength. Well, he had, hadn¡¯t he? More than that, he¡¯d found a form of power. People listened to him, and his suggestions and statements now affected the guidance of not just his own people, but three whole races. Sure, he held that position in a sort of de facto authority, but it was a form of authority one way or another. As the sole human yet to arrive, he represented a factor that couldn¡¯t be overlooked. He alone held the weight of the possibilities humanity presented. And as long as the Biord and Marrans believed him, he was a very valuable bargaining chip.


    But that power was only a fraction of what he was learning in The Trials. He had Sorynel¡¯s teachings on the Source to digest, he had soul arts to master through the staff, and he even had the mysterious Tree of Memory to investigate. Even without these advantages, if he could keep improving his skills and appeasing the challenges in The Trials, there was no telling what abilities he could unlock.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± he replied, breaking out of his reverie. He was unarmed against Faynel¡¯s exposed blade, but he felt confident that he could defend himself.


    Faynel stepped forward and Mason stepped back, and so their movements began. Without a weapon to defend with, Mason had to move quickly to keep out of her reach. She stabbed forward and he pivoted to the side, she cut horizontally and he moved back out of reach. Every time they sparred they grew more familiar with each other¡¯s movements, but it was clear Mason was quickly catching up to her skill level. It would still be a long time before he surpassed her, but she couldn¡¯t best him quite as easily as before, especially not with his new tricks.


    By the time they were both sweating and panting from the constant motion, Mason was falling behind in their steps. Faynel planted and struck at Mason, and he was mid-motion with too little time to avoid her attack. But he was prepared nonetheless. The energy he had been building in his hands spread out in a glimmer of a sigil, and a barrier formed around his palm. It blocked the strike and the force it emitted wrenched Faynel¡¯s arm back.


    Mason didn¡¯t hesitate to step forward, punching with his other arm. Faynel broke momentum though and twisted, grabbing his wrist and pulling him. He countered sloppily, and they tangled up, almost falling to the ground before they unwound themselves and backed away laughing.


    ¡°So you can activate it on command now, that¡¯s going to be very useful,¡± she acknowledged as she stretched at a distance.


    ¡°He could just carry an actual buckler and achieve the same effect,¡± Leornal commented, hardly looking up from his book.


    Mason focused and tried to form the shield in front of him again, holding it steady. It petered out in less than a few seconds and it took him a few moments to recover his strength. ¡°You¡¯re right. But spellwork has its own uses, and a buckler couldn¡¯t deflect one of the Corrosi¡¯s acid balls.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±.


    ¡°You¡¯ll just have to find a way to make it useful,¡± she spun her sword around with a flourish and Mason saw a glint in her eye, ¡°Let¡¯s go again, but grab your sword this time, I¡¯m not holding back.¡±


    Faynel launched herself at Mason with hardly any hesitation, and he barely pulled his sword up in time to knock hers away. He stepped back and moved to counter another attack, and they fell back into their pattern of advances and counters.


    This time, Mason felt confident that he could keep up with her pace, and he began picking out her weak-spots. Had she always paused for so long on that step? She caught one of his blows at the very last moment and if he had struck a little differently she might not have been able to guard at all¡­ Yes, he could break her defenses. He began to push harder, varying his direct assault with a series of feints, striking lower or higher than usual.


    Then she was gone. He stumbled as his sword crossed through open air, and to his eyes, she was simply gone. But his senses had expanded from the introduction of mana to his system, and he followed those then, turning all the way around and deflecting a strike from directly behind him. The force of the blow almost threw him off his feet, and Faynel abused the opening to land a decisive strike. Even as she laid him out she applauded him for his reflexes, and in short order they were setting up.


    ~~


    While they refined old techniques and demonstrated new skills, the very war that Mason had anticipated was raging outside of the City of the Biord. News was spreading quickly and inaccurately about the proposal to begin enlisting the civilians to help fight, and pre-existing tensions made it simple for Mason to fulfill his role as scapegoat.


    ¡°I¡¯m not fighting in no Demon¡¯s army! This is exactly what he¡¯s wanted all along. If only I had buried that knife a little deeper in his gut,¡± sneered Councilman Manlen¡¯s son- the same that had attacked Mason after his first night in discussion with Sorynel. ¡°He led the Corrosi right to our walls, and now he¡¯s going to enslave those of us that are left, I¡¯m telling you now! Soon enough he¡¯ll be wanting us to fight alongside goblins.¡±


    He sat around a burnt out pit which held the nightly fire for this part of the camp. The thugs he allied with looked sickly and injured, several sporting scars from poorly healed burns or makeshift slings from where they had fallen in their flight from New Marra. Few enough had seen Mason in person, but to hear tales of him, he was the greatest threat to their livelihood.


    ¡°He¡¯s got half the council under his thumb. That girl, Faynel? I heard he seduced her and possessed her by binding his soul through dark magic. That¡¯s how come she¡¯s such a brutal fighter. She¡¯s got the strength of the cursed,¡± insisted one of the thugs she had beaten handily.


    ¡°It¡¯s true, I saw her eyes glowing with dark mana and she sent spirits to slow us down so we couldn¡¯t avoid her! I won¡¯t let that happen to me, I won¡¯t!¡±


    The thugs were scared, it¡¯s true, but much of that fear came from the same stories they made up. It was beyond them to reason that they simply were untrained and ineffective. No, they had faced down evil itself, and it was only the strength of that corruption that had so shamed them.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°We should march up to the leaders and demand Demon¡¯s head! I hear Valree¡¯s force almost got him too, but he rallied his Corrosi slaves to defend him and escaped at the last minute. But there¡¯s no way he can protect himself if we all agree he¡¯s too dangerous, right? Then we can take this damn city and live in peace. I hear there¡¯s food and mana as rich as a mine down below us.¡±


    ¡°What, really? Can you sense it?¡± asked one of the younger girls. ¡°What if we just start digging? Maybe we can find a source of mana and we can start our own city!¡±


    A couple of the boys looked nervously at each other and one chimed in, ¡°We¡¯re tough, but what if the Demon enslaves all of our families and sends them against us? No way, we can¡¯t run. We need to get the council to declare war on the Demon, and the Biord too! I¡¯m not gonna trust those things if they¡¯re making us sit out in the open waiting to get attacked.¡±


    Everyone nodded sagely at that. Of course anyone who wasn¡¯t willing to hand them everything they wanted had to be an enemy. Sending the Defense Forces and Roving Bands to wipe them out was the only safe thing to do.


    Meanwhile, elsewhere in camp, the adults were making a very similar amount of sense.


    ¡°You will not send my children to fight, Leenel! My son was almost killed by the Demon himself in the city streets, and now you want me to send him to battle the Corrosi on the word of that monster?¡± shouted Manlen.


    ¡°You are letting fear cloud your judgment, Councilman. We all know what really happened that night with your son, and considering the power Mason holds in our current negotiations, you are lucky he has not chosen to bring up either of the attacks on his life that somehow are both conspicuously linked to you.¡± Her tone and expression made her seem every bit a warrior as her daughter or her mother.


    ¡°I-but, you have no evi-¡±


    ¡°Be silent, Councilman. Does your family not lack enough honor without you throwing deceit on top of treachery?¡± Eldran asked from where he sat at the corner of the tent, a handful of small fruits in hand. He looked ready to throw them. ¡°Your crime aside, I must say I too am hesitant to begin arming civilians. Would we want ones such as his son mixed up with our more valuable fighters? They may lose their lives over a sack of grain.¡± He shot Manlen a look as the councilman moved to argue. ¡°Further, though I will gladly honor my word and offer some of my family¡¯s secrets to help strengthen our alliance, I do not wish to be assigned a place on the battlefield by the whim of another. If I see a need for my whip, I would like to use it where I may.¡±


    Hoatner, one of the council-members who had sided with Mason at his original trial, raised a hand quietly, and spoke when Leenel nodded in encouragement, ¡°One way or another, I think we¡¯ve learned clearly that we lack the strength to properly defend ourselves. I¡¯ve seen what¡¯s available to us in the Biord city and it¡¯s not enough, but any deeper they say there are more unknown enemies awaiting us. If you¡¯re all so opposed to us enlisting fighters, what exactly is your plan?¡±


    ¡°If I weren¡¯t older than most of your parents, I¡¯d be the first one to take up a sword to defend the city,¡± claimed the oldest of the council-members, Solvar. ¡°As is, I might not have much a say in who does or doesn¡¯t fight, but I¡¯d say you¡¯re all damned fools if you¡¯d rather we just roll over and die. I don¡¯t see much comfort and safety in hiding ten-to-a-room in those tunnels, so if learning a few spells and some swordplay gives us a chance to have something better, why shouldn¡¯t we try?¡±


    Manlen looked ready to explode, and he spat as he stood and shouted over the table, ¡°If you¡¯re all so ready to throw yourselves into battle then be my guest! You can¡¯t make the rest of us fight. That damned Demon has hoodwinked you into his bloody-minded ways, but I remember civilization! Society! We can move into the Biord city and dig our own damn tunnels if we need. We were already going to mine for mana, why not for shelter? If we block out the surface entrances who will ever find us down there? And if the Biord don¡¯t like that then I say we take the fight to-¡±


    The heavy man silenced himself for once when he saw the looks he was receiving. He sat back on a chair and it creaked under his weight, and continued shifting noisily under him as he huffed and glared around him. At the least, he knew nobody was on his side about offending the Biord, but he couldn¡¯t see why. Didn¡¯t they understand that sacrifices had to be made to defend the civilized races?


    ¡°Is it possible that you¡¯re too fat to fight, and afraid we¡¯ll use you as bait if we ever confront the Corrosi again?¡± Hoatner jabbed.


    Leenel put a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder and with the slightest bit of strength kept him seated in his chair, ¡°There¡¯s no need for insults, this is a serious issue we are discussing and it is not unusual for us to have differing opinions. That said, Hoatner brings up a good point. What other option do we have?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. We¡¯re left with no option but to arm our children, our wives, and our fat politicians. Such a bright day for the Marran race. Next you¡¯ll suggest we kill our firstborn for some more powerful spells.¡±


    All eyes turned to the remaining council-member, Gornan. He had hardly said a word since the evacuation of New Marra, but this sudden dark turn was unexpected. His family, passed down through the name Gor¡¯, was a respected one, albeit without the reputation of the family El¡¯.


    ¡°Gornan? Do you have something more constructive to add or were you just sulking? We¡¯ve respected your silence since the attack because we know what you lost-¡± started Solvar.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about what I¡¯ve lost you shrivelled old man. It¡¯s about what the Councilwoman,¡± he somehow made the word sound insulting, ¡°is suggesting we give up. Manlen is right. Let¡¯s cut the head off this Demon, tell those fucking birds to submit or die, and we¡¯ll go underground until we¡¯ve got a better plan. I¡¯m not going to put swords in the hands of children just to send them off to get killed.¡±


    ¡°No, you just want to hide underground, kill the representative of one race, and enslave the rest of our allies in their own homes. I never thought I¡¯d see the day the family Gor¡¯ was run by a coward!¡± Hoatner drew his blade and advanced on Gornan, but once he had closed half the distance he paused awkwardly. Gornan remained seated, arms crossed tightly.


    Even Manlen didn¡¯t seem to want to speak up in Gornan¡¯s defense, despite the close alignment of their goals.


    Eldran broke the silence, ¡°This is a matter that should be brought to the people. We need more fighters, but if we just start arming Marran¡¯s who either don¡¯t know how, or don¡¯t want to fight, we¡¯re going to end up with a people sooner willing to turn on one another than to march against a foe. But I think I might repeat Captain Torysen¡¯s words to Captain Coltren- anyone who threatens violence against one of our allies will be cut down. I have dedicated my time here today to debate what the right thing to do is, not which of the worst things we are willing to tolerate.¡±


    Several people made exasperated noises around the room, but nobody moved or spoke immediately. The thinly veiled violence had made its impression upon all of them.


    ~~


    Mason, Leornal, and Faynel all sat on his bed eating and chatting casually about their training. Not one of them had walked away without revealing their share of surprises, and consequently each of them had won and lost enough bouts to feel content and challenged in equal measure.


    ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll be ready to lift the seals in three days, really? With what we discussed this morning, I¡¯m a little worried there¡¯s going to be some pretty high tensions. Maybe we should have been less hasty,¡± Mason fretted, trying to imagine how he would have responded on Earth if his governor had announced that everyone needed to drill for war. He¡¯d probably have tried to dodge the draft.


    Faynel seemed unconcerned, ¡°After everything that¡¯s happened in the last week? For all we know, the Corrosi are matching further south as we speak. We have to be ready for anything, and I think people will see that. Most likely, they¡¯ll be begging to fight, especially if Eldran really does start handing out magic spells.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re being optimistic, Faynel,¡± Leornal said, ¡°I remember the first time you tried to attack someone that wasn¡¯t attacking you first. You looked ready to wet yourself. New Marra was a soft city full of soft people. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll be able to change that overnight.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a cynic, and I was a little nervous but I fought anyways! I almost beat Senkar, too.¡±


    ¡°He was going easy on you.¡±


    ¡°He was slow.¡±


    Mason grinned as they fought about each other¡¯s early prowess. Nobody was really ready for what The Trials required of them, it seemed. But all he¡¯d seen were people who had gone beyond expectations to make something of themselves, and he could admit to being optimistic to a fault but¡­ he thought the Marrans might be able to pull it together.


    At least, he had to hope so. Because if beings made of pure magic couldn¡¯t rally to defend themselves properly, he would have a lot to worry about when the human race was plopped right in the middle of the inevitable war.


    As they mused on the question of their future, Torysen barged through the door of the training room looking harried. Two Biord guards rushed around her and tried to push her back and out of the room, shouting that Bazy had ordered that nobody could be allowed to interrupt Mason without her direct consent, but the powerful Captain ignored them.


    She sighted down Mason and fixed him a stare that sent chills down his spine and then asked simply, ¡°Mason, can I have a word?¡±

 ~ Seventy - Alliance of the Darkest Night (Six)

    Mason sat across from Torysen in a small chamber that undoubtedly was used for interrogations. It housed only a small table and two chairs, as well as heavy chains and an exceptionally sturdy iron door. And although Torysen had come to Mason asking for his help, the imposing expression on her face made him feel as if he were the one being interrogated.


    ¡°Let me start by making it clear that I approve of your decisions and actions over the past several days with few reservations,¡± Torysen stated. Mason waited for the ¡®but¡¯. ¡°Unfortunately, too many of my people have been unable to see the value in the Darkest Night, or the more extreme measures of training the populace to defend themselves.¡±


    He could tell how uncomfortable she was even without listening to her unnecessarily painstaking speech. And there was no reason to be telling him this alone, in this uncomfortable room, unless something directly involved him. Was he about to be excommunicated? That would go against everything Bazy had demanded. ¡°Are you here just to tell me that the Marrans are against this alliance?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she delayed, ¡°by all reports, the alliance itself has received mixed approval. The basic deal is fair. Your role in all of this-¡± Mason braced himself for the bombshell, ¡°-has been a heavy inciting factor though. Many still accuse you of unfounded crimes, and it appears likely that if you left the secure quarters of the castle that you would be at constant risk of violence.¡±


    Well that didn¡¯t sound so bad. Even as that thought crossed his mind Mason smiled. His threshold for ¡°bad¡± had changed a great deal since he landed in The Trials. At least, it didn¡¯t sound any worse than he had expected. ¡°I basically knew that already, Captain. I¡¯m nobody¡¯s favorite and many people¡¯s monster-in-the-night. But you¡¯ve never expressed too much concern for my well-being before, so I can¡¯t imagine that¡¯s why you¡¯re here.¡±


    The Captain sat up straighter at that, ¡°I do too care about your well-being, Mason. You¡¯ve done¡­ well, since I¡¯ve met you. And you are a member of my band. I offer you the same loy-¡±


    ¡°Torysen what are you really here for?¡± Mason cut her off.


    She silenced at once, and looked contemplative. ¡°I fear violence among our people. Already disputes are growing beyond what can be easily contained, and without someone like Lady Sorynel around there is no singular pressure great enough to convince the people that a rebellion would be foolish. Each person believes they can get their own way if they¡¯re simply forceful enough about it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you think I can do about that. I¡¯m training as hard as I can, Torysen, but I¡¯m nowhere close to as powerful as Sorynel.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I am here for. I wanted to speak to someone. Someone who I have often turned to in the past for his wisdom and guidance.¡±


    That made no sense. Torysen had never looked to Mason for¡­ Mowrytal. She was asking to speak to Mowrytal. The captain saw the look of recognition on Mason¡¯s face and a sliver of hope crossed through her.


    Then Mason nodded, ¡°I think I can make that happen for you. It¡¯s the least I can do considering¡­ well, everything. Give me a minute.¡±


    Without hesitation, he sunk deep into himself and contacted Mowry. The Marran protested as usual, You should not hand us this power! But even his protestations felt halfhearted. He knew who sat before Mason, and wouldn¡¯t he be willing to take risks to speak to his sister again?


    A moment later, energy pooled within Mason and then began to roll out of him. His mana signature began to fluctuate unlike his glamour had ever accomplished before, and then it began to condense again, solidifying into a more normal state.


    ¡°Mowrytal?¡± she asked, hopeful and nervous all at once.


    But she was suspicious by the aura she saw in front of her, and Mason¡¯s glamoured body spoke only a few words, ¡°You killed me.¡±


    Torysen¡¯s eyes narrowed and she stiffened. If it was who she thought it was, and she was in danger, could she retaliate without harming Mason? She urged herself to remain calm and stated blandly, ¡°Geralt.¡±


    Geralt leaned back, using his own prowess to enhance Mason¡¯s glamour until it was crystal clear who sat before Torysen. ¡°Do you have nothing to say for yourself? You must realize that we are mortal enemies.¡±


    The captain¡¯s mind spun as it tried to figure out what he was after. She had feared this as a possibility, but confronted with the danger in reality it somehow seemed even less likely. Geralt had nothing to gain from threatening her, so she worked from that as a premise. ¡°I didn¡¯t even know who you were when I fought you. I only knew that one of my people was in danger, and we both know the conclusion of that fight was not my doing.¡±


    ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t, was it?¡± Geralt mused, leaning forward and standing. He concealed a smile as the captain tensed further, but he paced behind his chair slowly and was careful not to step any closer to her. ¡°It was Mason¡¯s. Or should I say,¡± he reached behind him and pulled the staff off of Mason¡¯s back. Held in front of him, he could see the deep complexity of its construction. The mana wound throughout it not in merely simple runes, but in deeply layered channels which pushed mana to transform back and forth into higher, more refined forms. It was clear at a glance that the staff was powerful, and it had been both his king¡¯s staff and his undoing.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Now, in a way, it was his.


    Geralt turned his attention back from the staff to the nervous looking Torysen. She was a tall woman, and large with strength. Even with the subtle differences that marked her as not of his race, Geralt could appreciate her as attractive just as he could respect her as an opponent. ¡°You did not win that fight fairly, but I do not feel I could have taken a victory against you for granted. Either way, you are one of the strongest allies of young Mason and I worry that you are not nearly as strong as you must be.¡±


    ¡°Are you offering to train me now?¡± Torysen scoffed, her nerves making her reckless. She felt in control with her sword in hand and sweat on her face, but this room was small and Geralt-in-Mason made for an unusual opponent. If he struck at her, she didn¡¯t know what would happen next.


    ¡°I¡¯m offering my assistance to a fellow warrior. Mason cannot die, I think we both realize that. But if what you¡¯ve said to him today is true, he needs a more powerful defender than you.¡± Geralt turned his chair around and sat so he could lean over the back. It was meant to be a casual gesture, but his size and the intensity of his aura made him look both awkward and imposing.


    ¡°What are you actually proposing?¡±


    ¡°There is a sealed treasury that our Biord friend will have kept a secret from you. Even she does not know what items King Arlon and I stored in there, but I will let you know and I will also give you the pattern to unlock that seal on a condition.¡±


    The conversation lulled as Geralt waited for Torysen to take the bait and ask what was in there. She didn¡¯t.


    The Maledite sighed, ¡°There is both an enchanted set of armor and a greatsword which I believe you contain the requisite amount of mana and strength to use. Equipped with these, you will be a much more competent guardian for Mason, and thus much more useful to my plans.¡± He shifted uncomfortably, ¡°It appears your brother is unhappy about my interfering with his time to speak to you. Neither he nor Mason quite trust me with control of the main body, as if I¡¯m capable of doing much in this state anyways.¡±


    Torysen also didn¡¯t look to trust his intentions, ¡°Why lead me to this equipment? And why weren¡¯t you wearing it yourself during our fight?¡±


    ¡°I simply did not believe I needed to wear it before I realized you had joined the battle and by that point it was too late for me to retrieve it. And as I¡¯ve said now multiple times, it suits me to keep Mason alive and for the present that means you. I am arming him in other ways for the future.¡± Geralt grimaced as something tangled with him from within, ¡°Fine, I¡¯m passing the connection to your brother. Do be warned that there may be consequences from this soul-swapping that you did not intend.¡±


    She watched the same display she had witnessed earlier as control passed from one soul to another within Mason. This time, when the mana began to solidify, there was no doubt in her mind that it was her brother, Mowrytal, that sat before her.


    Before she could even identify the intention she had wrapped his hands in her own, letting Mason¡¯s glamour fool her into thinking that they were Mowry¡¯s hands. Her brother looked down at their hands sadly, then looked back at Torysen with the same expression full of regret.


    ¡°It has been a while, Tory,¡± he whispered.


    She looked up at him, feeling younger than she had since well before The Trials. Though she spoke stiffly and uncomfortably to Mason, her voice came out innocently fluid now and she got right to the heart of her worries, ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do, Mowrytal. It looks like it¡¯s going to come to war among our people, and that¡¯s assuming the Corrosi aren¡¯t coming for us this very minute. I need your-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I left you all alone,¡± Mowry apologized, his mind awash in memories that he had viewed all too recently within Mason¡¯s soul.


    ¡°Mowrytal, you were trying to- you wanted the same thing I¡¯m trying to accomplish now.¡±


    He shook his head, ¡°That was an excuse. I made the same excuse when I got in trouble back home, and then I repeated my mistake as soon as I got ahold of Sorynel¡¯s source runes here. I know what you believe, the stories people must have told about me. But I didn¡¯t run off to find salvation for our people. I was trying to become a hero, a legend. I just wanted to fight in The Trials.¡±


    Torysen pressed her lips together, ¡°Mowry, no. I know you got carried away but you¡­¡±


    ¡°Sister, stop. No. When I felt my soul being pulled from my bones, I thought it was hell itself ripping me apart for abandoning you and everyone else. When I started to gather my wits and realized what was truly happening, my first thought was that I was getting another chance. I began to shape Mason¡¯s soul to my own ends, but then I saw you, stronger than I ever managed to become, fighting a monster and winning. I was humiliated.¡±


    She had pulled back from him then, but still held his hand. What he was saying made sense given everything she knew, no matter how she tried to make it not. But that wasn¡¯t her brother. He was a hero. He had always been there for her. He¡¯d saved her life early on in The Trials, and she¡¯d in turn dedicated her own to trying to find him.


    ¡°Do you know what it is like being trapped between a weak child who would battle a Titan to protect an alien he barely knows, and a merciless killer that still feels more loyalty than you¡¯ve ever had in your life?¡± Mowry asked, his vision blurred as he tried to separate himself from his words. ¡°You¡¯ve always looked up to me, Tory, but when did anyone ever follow me the way your band follows you?¡±


    ¡°I made a mistake asking Mason to do this,¡± Torysen said, feeling more panicked than she had talking to Geralt. ¡°Something went wrong. Release the connection. Bring Mason back.¡±


    He looked sideways at her, ¡°Do you know what potential lurks in this human body? It¡¯s so malleable. With that staff, and a branch of the Tree of Memory already exposed¡­ Sorynel gave him all of her secrets, too. Did he tell you? I doubt he did.¡±


    Torysen stood, letting Mowry¡¯s hands fall flat against the table. ¡°Let him go, Mowrytal. I don¡¯t think you can handle this right now. We¡¯ll talk¡­ we¡¯ll talk again. Another time. Not like this. You¡¯ve said enough.¡±


    Mowry twitched, or maybe shivered. But he pushed back against his chair and the wooden legs squeaked along the stone. In his disorientation, that sound drew all of his attention and Torysen struck him as hard as she could.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mowrytal,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mason.¡±

 ~ Seventy-One - Alliance of the Darkest Night (Seven)

    Mason woke on the floor of that same small room, but the table and chairs had been flung to the side, and he was bound by stone vines that leaked from a fissure in the very center of the room. He tried to struggle, but found the vines were dug deep enough into his skin that he couldn¡¯t move and blood cracked where it had dried along his arms and legs.


    Torysen sat against the door, crouched in a fetal position, and though she looked stricken, there was a focus to her expression that immediately assured Mason she was not out of her mind. He took a deep breath to steady himself and then called, ¡°Captain?¡±


    She turned halfway toward him, her gaze focused elsewhere, and it was clear she was trying to right herself for several long moments. Mason said again, ¡°Captain.¡±


    Finally her stare fixed on him, and Mason felt the slightest twist of the vines around his mangled skin. ¡°Which of you is that?¡±


    ¡°Would either of the others call you Captain?¡± Mason asked with a twinge of impatience.


    ¡°You put us both at risk, Demon.¡± She lifted herself to her feet and moved slowly over to Mason so that she towered over him.


    He met her look, ¡°You knew what you were asking me, Torysen. I agreed because I know that Geralt is not the threat we¡­¡± He trailed off as something nagged at his mind. His Focus highlighted details on Torysen¡¯s face as he spoke, but none stood out as clearly as the details that weren¡¯t there. Mason had been bound like he was dangerous, but her face showed no rage or fear when he mentioned Geralt. ¡°You spoke with Mowry?¡±


    That name did it. She shifted her whole body away from Mason at the sound of her brother¡¯s name. Her arms crossed, and lines formed across her face. ¡°I am no longer certain you can be trusted.¡±


    ¡°You learned something.¡±


    Her expression this time was the cruelty of a high mountain pass. ¡°I was not aware Lady Sorynel handed you her secrets. That sort of power can be dangerous.¡±


    Rather than respond, Mason just searched her face. He felt the energy which animated the stone roots, and began to think that he could fight them if necessary. Torysen seemed unhinged, and was avoiding letting her mind focus on what she had experienced. Each twist of her mind was laid bare for Mason- not the content, but the motion.


    ¡°Who spoke to you while I was gone?¡±


    Had she bared her teeth, or was that just the way her anger shrouded her expression?


    ¡°You¡¯re avoiding the subject.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you anything you need to know, Captain. I know what you¡¯ve done for me. But you need to give back, trust me. Who did you talk to?¡±


    Torysen looked torn between ordering the vines to tighten or running from the room with him abandoned. She was, however, still the Captain, and she was not Mowrytal- neither the version of him she had dreamed or the version she now feared. She shifted in place and then finally admitted, ¡°I talked to both.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Mason responded before he had a chance to think. ¡°And Geralt was tolerable?¡±


    She still couldn¡¯t meet Mason¡¯s eyes. ¡°He was.¡±


    ¡°Kind, even? Or maybe just helpful?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°But Mowrytal¡­¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need to discuss private matters between my brother and I.¡±


    ¡°He lives inside of me, Torysen.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of!¡± she covered her mouth after the scream, but the release seemed to straighten her mind. ¡°You have repeatedly placed me in situations that I do not know how to handle.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He was. ¡°I¡¯m trying to find the strength to gain control over the things that happen around me. At least enough that I don¡¯t have to apologize for things I never meant to do.¡±


    ¡°You would not be in the band if I had not seen your desire to act honorably.¡± She squatted then. Mason wished she¡¯d just undo his bindings so he could meet her on her level, but at least she was looking at him.


    ¡°You seem awfully scared of something about me at the moment.¡±


    ¡°Tell me what you know of Mowry as he has been inside of you. Does he ask for power? Does he seek control?¡±


    Mason noted the pointed questions, could see the fear in Torysen¡¯s eyes. ¡°No, he yells at me pretty much constantly for allowing either of them any control that I can forbid. I don¡¯t know what you saw but he¡¯s a good man, Torysen. He¡¯s been helpful. Friendly even.¡±


    She shook her head, ¡°Don¡¯t trust him. Heed his advice and do not give him power. He is not well.¡±


    Mason started with a, ¡°What do you mean¡­¡± when he felt the vines unloosen. As soon as he began pulling at them they crumbled to dust, and his body stung as that dust rubbed into his wounds. ¡°Torysen?¡±


    The captain had already begun walking to the door of the room, but she turned to say, ¡°He is not the brother I thought he was. There are temptations which he fears, and I believe he is split around the urge to protect himself from those, or pursue them at any cost. Do not tempt him unnecessarily.¡±


    Rather than follow her out and demand more answers, Mason decided to follow a smarter course and dive into the source. He sat up and leaned against the back wall of the room, closed his eyes, and found his soul.


    ~~


    Geralt¡¯s redecoration of the soulscape hadn¡¯t ceased. Mason stared off the platform in the middle of the ocean to watch waves crashing upon worn, blackened stones. The foam roiled and dispersed rapidly and Mason¡¯s eyes were torn between that and the pinkish red hues scratching jagged lines through the grey clouds of the horizon.


    Chunks were missing and cracks ribbed the sandstone yellow ground of the platform like veins, and Mason felt uneasy moving too close to the edge. ¡°Geralt?¡± He cried out, suddenly awash with a sense of isolation he had never before experienced in this plane.


    Looking out over the sea, Mason saw that the fonts of energy within him had been enshrined well of in the distance. Tall pillars rose out of the ocean, topped with bowls that overflowed with colorful energy. As that energy poured off into the ocean, the foam of the waves took on those colors as it crashed around the pillar. His eyes trailed along the length of water between his platform and those pillars, and he could just barely make out a hint of a submerged walkway one could risk if they were hoping to reach the font.


    The platform itself had been changed in a distinct way since Mason last stood there. He could see to the side that two staircases wrapped around its edges, just barely visible where they started on a side of the platform that led to no font. As no companion arrived for him, Mason walked patiently over to the platform and down the steps to his left.


    His inward hand trailed along the cracks of the wall as he stepped, and the height of that platform in the sea became apparent to him. It was several hundred feet tall, and that realization made the font of mana seem conspicuously distant and imposing as he glanced at it from the stairway. He walked on, impressed.


    Down at the bottom of the staircase was a passage which led into the core of the platform which he now realized was an immense column. The passage was dimly lit by torches along the length of its wall, and the floor was patterned to look as if a walkway adorned the center. He followed it closely, resisting the urge to take a torch with him for caution¡¯s sake.


    The path through the column in the sea was wide and devoid of branching passageways, but something instinctive inside of Mason recognized it as a labyrinth. Perhaps, he mused, it was unnatural for him to be lost within his own soul. He walked on, confident that he would reach an appropriate destination if only he didn¡¯t stop moving.


    In time, he did. The corridor turned and he felt his perception struggle to look away from the line on the ground he had followed this whole time. Surely the path continued on straight. But he couldn¡¯t think on that long. The path veered, and so did his steps.


    A little further on, he passed through an iron portcullis, wide enough for five men to walk through with a heavy door that had been raised into the ceiling. The chamber was lit with torches, and despite its size, housed only two things of note in its center. The first was Mowry, seated on a cushion on the floor, bound by both hands to a short post. The second was Geralt, who kneeled in front of the Marran and turned as Mason approached.


    ¡°I see you found your way to us without issue. I wonder, does it bring you pleasure to walk freely in this place while one of us is bound? We most definitely took advantage of the time before you learned to move about here,¡± Geralt mused.


    ¡°What is all of this, Geralt? Shouldn¡¯t you consult with me before you¡­ do whatever you did in my soul? And Mowrytal-¡± Mason was close enough not to be standing over Mowry. He was covered in sweat and sandy dirt, his arms torn by the manacles and knees raw from the ground he must have been on before Geralt conjured the cushion. ¡°Is he okay?¡±


    Geralt looked up at Mason and nodded, ¡°He will be managed. It is lucky for us both that his study of the Soul Arts was juvenile. I managed to keep him under control as well as offer Torysen a consolatory gift for her troubles. Is she well?¡±


    ¡°Why do you care?¡± Mason asked, then thought better of it. ¡°Sorry. She¡¯s shaken. My real body doesn¡¯t look a lot better than his at the moment, but I have a lot of questions and I¡¯m not sure where to start other than to ask if there¡¯s anything I need to be worried about immediately.¡±


    ¡°No, you are safe and our shared goals seem well under way.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but Mowrytal did something¡­ bad? Or crazy? Enough to worry both you and Torysen. And you seem to have taken a fair amount of initiative on your own. Let¡¯s say I¡¯m nervous. Should I be finding a way to lock you up like him?¡±


    Geralt stood and the effect was immediate. He was unarmored, but still nearly twice Mason¡¯s size in every regard, and a heavy sword hung at his hip. The column in the sea, and all that he created, weighed heavily on Mason¡¯s mind as well.


    ¡°No,¡± the Maledite answered.


    ¡°Well, okay then,¡± Mason shrugged and scratched his head. This hadn¡¯t gone how he would have liked. Though he couldn¡¯t have said what he was hoping for, either. ¡°Are you my ally, Geralt?¡±


    The grey-faced man considered this question, then stepped forward and offered the hilt of his sword to Mason. ¡°If you want to have this conversation, hold this in your hands. Let us make the power dynamic clear. Better, hold that blade to my throat and ask the question again. Bare your teeth, flex your muscles. Ask me that question while you can feel the way you hold my life in your hands.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Mason did reach for the hilt, and before he had even pulled it free of Geralt¡¯s sheathe he could tell its weight. He¡¯d struggle to fight with a sword like this, even in this soulscape where reality was bent. But he could at least lift it, so he yanked it free and hefted it into the air, impressed by the way the torchlight gleamed off the wide blade in the air. He let the blade fall down a bit, then lowered it to the ground. He took his own sword out then, and placed that next to Geralt¡¯s.


    No flash of recognition, neither fear nor anticipation, crossed Geralt¡¯s face. He watched and waited to see what Mason would make of this. And the human just shifted awkwardly and tried to meet Geralt¡¯s eyes. He said, ¡°I don¡¯t want to be your new king, Geralt. I won¡¯t pretend to know much about Arlon, or your relationship, but I don¡¯t want to be him. I would like to be your ally.¡±


    Geralt laughed then, a dry humorless chuckle that persisted in the air. ¡°No, not my king. You¡¯d place that blade on the ground, disarming yourself before me, but you know nothing about me, and as little about yourself. You could be a god to me. To both of us. There is nothing we have- our powers, our memories, our energy- that is not yours to rip from us on a whim. You may not know how to do so overtly, but it would take you little effort to discover the tricks of it. Already you¡¯ve done so with one soul. Why not ours if we threaten you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not who I am. And no matter what I rip from you or force you to do, that won¡¯t earn me your cooperation. This place,¡± Mason gestured around them at the thick walls of the impressive construct, ¡°is not only beyond my comprehension that it exists, but I couldn¡¯t have imagined it at all. Would you have made something nearly as great if I had demanded it?¡±


    Finally their eyes met, and a few moments passed in silence. Mason made a quiet sigh of realization and the thin tremblings of a smile formed on the Maledite¡¯s face. ¡°Thank you then, Geralt of the Maledite. But why? What does this place serve us, and what has happened to Mowrytal?¡±


    ¡°You hold a great many things which that man has long coveted. Power takes many forms, and each of those forms seem to be within your grasp. Are you aware that when you speak, you speak as a king? It may be that neither of us would have selected you for that role, but yet you stand in it nonetheless.¡± Geralt picked his sword up from off the ground, and flipped it, turning the hilt back to Mason, who took it again hesitantly. ¡°Hold this blade above me, lift if with all your might and do not waver. This is a lesson we Kingmakers are taught early on.¡±


    Mason hefted the blade up, and again felt pressed by its weight. The sword hung just inches above Geralt¡¯s right shoulder, and each twinge of pain or moment of distraction in Mason¡¯s awareness threatened to let that sharp blade sunder the Maledite¡¯s flesh. ¡°Will we wait until you¡¯re injured before you teach me the lesson in this?¡±


    Geralt simply watched for a while longer. There were no signs that he feared the injury that would come from Mason¡¯s straining muscles, though the likelihood grew rapidly as Mason began shining with a coat of sweat.


    Finally, Geralt explained, ¡°A sword is one of the clearest forms of power. The way you wield it expresses much. A cowardly man is often quick to draw his blade, while a brave man is often the last to arm himself. Either way, it is important when you wield power that you recognize the difference between your personal strength and that which you wield. If your strength wears out, the sword will still fall. You must be careful not to wield power that you lack the strength to put away or protect.¡±


    With the last dwindling bit of strength in Mason¡¯s arms, he pulled the sword aside and let it fall to the ground. He was panting as electricity shot up and down his aching arms. ¡°What exactly are you warning me about, Geralt?¡±


    The Maledite moved faster than lightning then, and Mason sprawled backwards on the ground as Geralt took the heavy blade and braced it toward the small human. ¡°If you allow your strength to wear down, those who waited cunningly for their opportunity will strike to seize your power. I will not make you practice it, but what would happen if you begun to swing that sword with your eyes closed? How likely would you be to harm me, or yourself, given enough time?¡±


    Mason¡¯s eyes were still wide as he stared down the edge of the sword, and he was reminded again how glad he was to have Geralt on his side. ¡°Someone would end up hurt, it would only be inevitable,¡± he answered.


    ¡°The fault of my King¡­¡± Geralt spoke slowly, each word sitting on his tongue like acid, ¡°Was that he existed in a world with powers grander than either of us can comprehend. He died in an instant without any chance to defend himself.¡± His already pale eyes seemed to grow scales then, clouding so heavily Mason wanted to stand and shake him. ¡°But no, that was his death. His fault was in that he wielded a sword so large that when he swung it, the room fell around him. He was a giant who played games among ants, but absolute power is stifling. A king continues to rule when his subjects require him to do so. Some forms of power must be given, and cannot be taken.¡±


    The sword¡¯s tip rested against the ground next to Mason, and he pushed himself back to his feet to move closer to Geralt. ¡°This,¡± he gestured once more to the structure Geralt had built, ¡°Is power given?¡±


    The Maledite knelt with a fluid gesture. His figure was still imposing, even at a reduced height, but Mason could see the vulnerability he offered.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand everything you¡¯re trying to explain to me. Or why you¡¯re even willing to do so. Have I¡­ done something? Something worth your help? Or is it just that you are bound to me, and I haven¡¯t abused that power?¡±


    Geralt continued to kneel, but he shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ve treated with each person you¡¯ve come across as if they have something worth respecting. You begrudge nobody their mistrust of you. You demand nothing of anyone. You desire power, but do not abuse the power you have. I will not call you wise, and you are far from a great leader. Much of your power is wielded irresponsibly, and even now death is sure to befall the people you try hard to aid. But I see in you potential, and I am not a King, but a Kingmaker. If I can earn you that place, I can continue my duty.¡±


    Mason teetered dangerously between a certain giddiness over the ceremonial tone of Geralt¡¯s voice, and his modern sense of irreverence toward formal displays like this. In the end, he grabbed Geralt by the arm and pulled, and the Maledite stood awkwardly. ¡°Stop, stop that. You respect me because I don¡¯t abuse power, right? Well then let me not abuse your respect, either. You have no duty here. I don¡¯t want to be your King. If you know all of this about power- the right and wrong ways to use it, then I want your advice. But why make yourself a servant when we can just work side by side instead?¡±


    The kingmaker surprised him then. He stuck a hand out between them, and when it was clear he wasn¡¯t about to strike Mason, Mason clasped it and shook it. Good, Mason thought, this is better. Then he said, ¡°Now I¡¯m extremely grateful that we can work together, but you have a lot of things to explain. This place? Mowry? Please?¡±


    The next surprise was that Geralt seemed to be smiling as he turned to Mowry and began to explain more thoroughly, ¡°You consumed my soul whole and fresh. If I cannot be considered alive, then I am likely as close to it as possible outside of my original body. But Mowry¡¯s soul is in many ways fragmented. Large pieces of his original self had decayed from his bones, and are now missing. Despite his best appearances, it is hard to even guess at who his true self may be, and when he was granted control of your body, the temptation to take your power grew too great. We are both very lucky Torysen is perceptive, and defended herself against him quickly.¡±


    ¡°So is he dangerous? He hasn¡¯t moved since I¡¯ve been in here, and he never acted up before.¡±


    Geralt looked over the bound man. ¡°I honestly do not know. Maledite do study the Soul Arts, but I am no expert in these matters.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not the first to suggest I need one of those.¡±


    ¡°No, Soul Arts are powerful skills, and with that staff of yours, greater comprehension of them could open the door to some very commendable strengths. As well as the ability to control several of your weaknesses that have been forming as of late.¡±


    ¡°Like my Demon self, and Mowrytal.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And you wish to know why I have built this place? Its aesthetics I will admit are of my own design, I took several images of places of power I had seen and¡­¡±


    ¡°You made it look awesome,¡± Mason suggested.


    Geralt almost looked pleased. ¡°Its of a style that I took joy in designing. Its purpose is manifold. The soul works much like the mind. The more elaborate the construct of an image, the more reliable its power. I have much work still to do, but as your power grows, I will be able to form rooms to harness and refine new abilities.¡¯


    ¡°I think I understand. Rather than trying to work with vague ideas of what¡¯s happening inside of me, we can see the abilities as something tangible, and work with them directly.¡± A thought crossed Mason¡¯s mind and he asked, ¡°What about the status and challenges and skills? Can we find out more about those through this place?¡±


    ¡°Possibly. But let us not speak of things too far ahead. The Trials are not a power that either of us should dare to contend with. I will form a room, though, that should improve your ability to Analyze those things naturally. I have seen the computers of your world, and should be able to simulate one here.¡±


    Mason¡¯s eyes grew wide, ¡°Are you serious? That would be extremely cool. I can¡¯t believe how much I miss computers. There were those strange terminals in the city but I needed Leornal to work with that, and I can still barely operate those weird crystal balls the Marran¡¯s use.¡±


    ¡°As I said. There is much work to do. Soulscaping is not an easy task, even if The Trials have given me a skill for my efforts.¡±


    That caught Mason¡¯s attention, ¡°A skill? You¡¯re still gaining skills even in this place? What does that- I can¡¯t even begin to guess what that means.¡±


    ¡°Neither can I.¡±


    Setting that additional mystery aside, Mason crossed over to stand in front of Mowry, and knelt before him. ¡°Mowry protected me at first, even from you, Geralt. Is this the best we can treat him, bound to a pole in a dungeon?¡±


    ¡°What else would you recommend? Perhaps a part of him is still loyal to you, but other fragments of him would gladly take over. If not for Torysen¡¯s quick response and my presence here, you may not still hold onto your sense of self.¡±


    Mason turned back to face Geralt, ¡°You can create areas in here that focus on certain abilities or parts of my soul, right? What about an area which bound Mowry, but still let him move comfortably? If he¡¯s still himself, maybe he can still help. I¡¯ll just have to¡­ be more judicious about what freedoms I give him, right?¡±


    ¡°King Arlon would have struck him down without question,¡± Geralt stated. ¡°But you are not a Maledite. It would take some effort, but I believe I can create a space where he can still be of use to us, but restrained. Comfortably.¡± He added that last bit grudgingly.


    ¡°I think it¡¯ll be worth the effort then. Is there anything you need from me to do it?¡±


    Geralt shook his head, ¡°As Mowry was fond of admonishing you, there is only so much time you should spend in this place until your strength grows. You should return to assure Torysen that her brother is subdued and safe. And remember, wield your power carefully.¡±


    ~~


    Geralt¡¯s last words stuck with Mason. Wield your power carefully. It was a strange bit of advice to receive as someone who hadn¡¯t asked for the majority of the power he held, but in reality it was his indifference that made it all the more essential that someone advise him properly. He had, after all, been making some very strong statements lately, and hadn¡¯t they been carried through to some extent?


    He could only hope that they were turning out well. What would happen when the Marrans move in, the seals fall, and this hybrid people moves to find a new order? His thoughts lingered on how much of the planning around those steps he had been involved in. Bazy often let him speak for her, and he undoubtedly spoke for enigma of the human threat. It was a sword heavier than he might have realized. But he had to find the strength to hold it up.


    As far as he knew, something had gone wrong with Mowrytal from all the soul manipulation. Something bad enough to genuinely scare Torysen. Mason¡¯s eyes snapped open and he looked at his hands. For now, they were the ordinary, pale human skin he was born with. Though his mana sight still wasn¡¯t at the level of a Marran, he could tell, too, that the flow of his mana was his own. For at least that moment, he was himself.


    Demon could change that. Mason whipped the staff off his back and held it in front of him, probing it with Focus, Mana Sight, Analyze and the force of his own mana. He could feel those strange runes within it that empowered the spells, and knew that his mana transformed and changed as it passed through the length of the staff. None of that explained to him where Demon came from, or what the staff was really capable of. If he at least knew where it was from, who made it, and what it was made for, he could begin to unravel the mystery, but at the moment all he had was the staff itself and his own experiences.


    A part of him considered destroying the staff, if that were even possible. It had helped him get to this point, but it could be a liability in the long run. But there was no telling what was coming up in The Trials, and to date he was rarely ever the fastest, strongest, or most skilled person in a room. What he was was resilience and versatility. And if he could control those spells- life drain, stamina drain, mana vampirism and ultimately soul steal- what fight couldn¡¯t he win given enough time?


    His memories of being Demon were always vague. It still felt like him, but his actions were far more aggressive and reckless. It wouldn¡¯t be hard to imagine a scenario where he couldn¡¯t tell friend from foe, but that was something he absolutely couldn¡¯t let happen. Demon was his sword, and Mason needed to develop the strength to wield it tirelessly, without losing control.


    Raw red lines covered his body, and even his clothing was mangled from the stone vines Torysen had used to restrain him when he loosed control to Mowry and Geralt. There were so many ways he could lose his grip on things, ways that he could allow the small pocket of order he¡¯d found to fall to ruin.


    He needed to clean his wounds and rest, but after that, he had to talk with Faynel and Leornal about everything that had happened. If they would agree to be his first line of defense against himself, he¡¯d be gratified. Geralt could do some good from within but he still was unsure what he thought about that man¡¯s intentions. Sure, he¡¯d demonstrated his loyalty and willingness to work with Mason but so had Mowry, once upon a time.