《The Rune Thief [Mana Cultivation, Progression Fantasy]》


 1-Tall towers

    The dried lichen creaks and crumbles under the touch of my trembling fingers, messing with my grip on the cracks between the granite slabs that form the castle wall. I haven''t even climbed halfway up the tower, and I can already feel every bone in my hands, fragile and brittle like chalk. I can feel every burning muscle in my arms, tense like wires. Numbness is spreading through my thighs, my shoulders, my back. My forearms are starting to bleed, slowly accumulating lacerations from rubbing against the rough stone.


    The sun starts shining. My hands begin to sweat. I try to wipe them dry on the hem of my shirt before continuing, still dangling precariously high above the waterless trench.


    Explain to me again why it always needs to be me who gets the hardest jobs and not one of those two bumbling idiots who wait for me down in the shadows, chatting between laughs in a low voice.


    Imbeciles, if they alert the guards and reveal my position, I will kill them. I''m going to cut their throats in their sleep and watch them fade away, drowning in their blood, gurgling for air. Is it too much to ask to stay quiet while I''m suffering my way up here?


    My right foot slips on something slick. Suddenly I''m hanging just from two fingers jammed into a tight gap. My heart rate spikes, drowning out everything else in its galloping madness. My vision narrows. I can see the stones down there calling my name, distant and menacing.


    I need to calm down. Stop looking at the faraway ground and breathe. Calm down and breathe.


    I raise my other arm and try to find some hold on a millimeter-wide ledge, the best way up on my improvised track. I tilt my torso, slowly, trying not to lose control. Breathe, never forget to breathe. The muscles need oxygen. Now, fit the toe of your rubber-soled boots where you used to have your hand and continue. These rubber-soled boots are an astonishing invention. I hope The Crow will let me keep them if we finish this assignment successfully. They are probably worth a fortune, but a girl can dream. Maybe I can improvise something similar by smearing my old leather boots with pine resin¡ªsomething worthy of a tin-grade gutter rat like me.


    "That isn''t a legal move for a fire mage. Don''t fuck with me!¡± whines a hoarse voice somewhere above me. Someone else murmurs something unintelligible in response. I roll my eyes. The lookouts of this castle turn out to be useless idiots who play while on watch. I would never believe it if I couldn¡ät see it with my own eyes. Maybe they have grown too comfortable because nothing has ever happened. Who would dare to enter a mage''s castle in his sane mind? Maybe they are expecting to be able to see every possible threat long before it reaches the walls. Something like columns of horsemen or hordes of barbarians emerging from the forest in the distance, a floating ship on the horizon, real threats.


    I''m just a crazy spider climbing the unscalable. Seriously, that''s what they call me in the gang. Kivi the spider, the crazy girl, the spider girl, or similar things.


    At least their ineptitude will make my job easier once I get to the top. I feel like I only meet incompetent people wherever I go. Apart from The Crow, of course. It''s not like I''ve ever seen our boss doing anything himself. But he is always able to find someone who does it for him, whether they want to or not. He always has leverage over everybody he needs to. And that is a form of competence you should respect, or you won''t survive long in the streets of our city.


    I finally reach the top and poke my head between the battlements to take a look at the fighting terrace the guards are sitting on. Some pigeons coo at me, offended, before lifting and flying down towards the courtyard. The guards don''t look up. One of them has his back towards me, not even watching in the right direction. His head is bent over a small table focused on the cards in his hands, and the ones spread over the table between him and his colleague. The other one is nibbling on an apple while watching his companion with a smile of superiority and satisfaction. Juice and drool run down his shaved chin. They are both wearing their chainmail, but their helmets and pikes are lying on the ground. A third guard wanders lazily on the barbican walkway close to another tower in the distance. He turns around and looks in our direction for a moment. I hold my breath reflexively, but he turns and walks away into the distance again. The sun is still low, and my gray rags blend well into the shadows. I''m just one more stone of the wall. Even so, having to neutralize two lookouts could be a problem. But I rarely get simple jobs, and I''m used to it.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    I lean against the battlement to regain my strength, and to be able to access my backpack. I take out my small crossbow, place it between my legs, tighten the string, and load the first poison-coated bolt. Then I slowly point it up, remaining in the shadows to not cause any reflections, and aim carefully. The tiny projectile flies through the air with an almost inaudible twang and hits the neck of the guard that has its back turned towards me. The man smacks himself as if he had been stung by a wasp. He sways while I reload my crossbow and collapses unconscious on the table. Dragons and Sorcerors game chips spill out all over the floor.


    ¡°Huh? Who are you? How did you get here?¡± asks the second guard. His apple falls out of his hand and tumbles over the mountain of game chips and copper coins. He tries to get up, but his pronounced belly and chainmail weigh him down. He loses balance and falls back on his ass again. Before the man can right himself and position his legs under him to gain momentum, I let my second bolt fly in his direction. A muffled tinkling sound echoes across the tower, a bell drowned underwater.


    He looks me in the eyes, mouth half open. I look back at him. Our eyes wander to his forearm where we both observe in shock how my projectile has lodged itself in the thick gambeson, without penetrating too much between the rings of his chainmail. Did it manage to pierce his skin? I don¡ät know. Fuck!


    ¡°Now you¡äve done it, girl. You must be out of your mind, don''t you?¡± he starts to mutter. ¡°To come here all alone. Who do you think you are? I''ll shove my pike right up your ass!¡± He manages to stand up with the help of the pole of his weapon before he points the sharp tip towards my face.


    I slide back as far as I can get. Until I can feel the stony parapets of the tower''s terrace pressing into my back. My hand fishes around frantically in my backpack, searching for another bolt. Finally, I can feel the cold metal burning between my trembling fingers, still tense and almost raw from my feat scaling the wall. Breathe. Calm down. Haste is dangerous, slow is fast. If I prick myself, I''ll fall asleep too. It would be a stupid way to end up trapped.


    ¡°You have no escape, girl. You have gotten into the wrong place. We are going to have some fun, you and me,¡± babbles the guard, casting me a leering smile.


    He tries to stumble in my direction, still poking through the air with his pike. But his steps are slow and hesitant, and he begins to sway like a drunk.


    ¡°I don''t think so,¡± I reply as I let my unnecessary bolt slide back into the special compartment in my backpack.


    ¡°What have you done to me?¡± he asks, leaning heavily on his pike.


    ¡°Sleep,¡± I snort at him. The man sinks into himself. ¡°You should have tried sounding the alarm, you useless idiot.¡±


    I wait a while, inhaling and exhaling without hurry. Letting my heart rate calm down while I observe how the third guard disappears into another tower in the distance without giving any sign of having heard or seen the altercation. I approach the two sleeping bodies. They reek. Clouds of sweat and stale mead permeate the air around them. There isn''t much to find in their pockets, just some more copper coins. But in a basket next to the stairs that lead down into the courtyard, there are more apples. I take a bite out of a wrinkled one, letting the sweet juices splash over my chin before licking it up. A soft moan escapes my lips. When was the last time I had fresh fruit down in the slums? They are a bit floury but hardly have any worm holes in them. I even feel the effervescent sparkling tingle of traces of mana. You definitively won''t find fruit like this in the slums. There is also half a loaf of bread, a piece of cheese, a somewhat rusty knife, and some type of jerky with the texture of a shoe sole. I throw everything into my backpack, go back to the parapet, and look down. I can make out both of my companions sitting in the trench, barely hidden in the dense morning mist that covers the ground like a blanket. Idiots!


    Shaking my head I tie a thin silk rope that I got from another job around a battlement and throw the end over the wall. It uncoils smoothly and starts falling towards the distant ground. I start cutting and chewing pieces of jerky while I wait for my companions to tie the tip of a thicker rope onto it. Once hoisted and secured, it should help them climb up here without problems and provide us with a quick escape route in case something doesn''t go to plan.


    ¡°You made us wait for ages down there,¡± complains the idiot called Dogface seconds after managing to climb over the parapet.


    ¡°What''s wrong with those?¡± asks Dante, the third of our trio, pointing at the guards.


    ¡°I put them to sleep.¡±


    Dogface laughs softly and kicks the one lying splayed out all over his cards.


    ¡°Look, he doesn''t feel anything.¡±


    ¡°Stop fooling around and put on their coats and mail. It will help us stay unnoticed,¡± I command, annoyed.


    ¡°And what have I done?¡±


    ¡°Who put you in charge?¡±


    ¡°The Crow.¡± They both grow silent after I mention our boss. I approach the mouth of the staircase and look down into the humid penumbra of the corridor that leads into the eastern wing of the castle.


    "Stupid bitch," swears Dogface at my back between his teeth. I ignore him.

 2-Empty corridors

    After entering the castle, we seem to have crossed into a different world. A haunted place where time loses part of its meaning, and the stone releases century-old whispers trapped within its cold embrace. The wind is blowing softly through the corridor. A hall stretches before us, cavernous and dimly lit. Beams of sunlight slice through gaps in the not tightly closed windows, making the dust dance in their wake over the marbled and polished floor. Massive paintings hang on the walls, depicting the lords of the manor and all their forefathers, hunting scenes, and pitched battles, immortalized with fine strokes in glowing colors, almost seeming alive. If you look at them too long, it feels like you are about to get sucked into them and can smell the blood and sweat of the battlefield. I shudder. But Dante whistles appreciatively.


    ¡°Forget about it. We would never be able to fence any of them,¡± I admonish him. He looks at the paintings with regret but walks on muttering under his breath.


    The air carries a faint chill, laced with smoke and the scent of beeswax from the blown-out candles left at the bottom of intricately chiseled bronze sconces that hang from the walls. Above us, heavy wooden beams form a curved ceiling carved with geometric shapes and flickering runes whose meaning I can not comprehend. I feel like an intruder in the lair of a beast. We entered a place of power and secrets, of intrigues and machinations, where every corner holds the weight of stories untold. A place where those like us do not belong. Exposed mice, hoping for the cats to be sleeping. I shudder again. The echoes of our steps seem to drown out, swallowed by the vastness. Get a grip on yourself, Kivi.


    Our information must be severely outdated because, after walking down another eternal corridor covered in dancing shadows, only illuminated by the wandering light beams shining through narrow arrow slits, we enter a room that does not appear on our crudely drawn map. In the center of it, there is a strange stone arch adorned with flickering intricate runes chiseled in relief, beneath which a translucent disk emits an ethereal glow, like the lake surface illuminated from the bottom.


    ¡°What the hell? Wasn''t this supposed to be an armory or something?¡± asks Dante. He rubs his eyes as if to clear a dream or illusion.


    ¡°Doesn''t seem like it, does it?¡±


    "Fucking wizards, the fucking sons of bitches even have private portals," complains Dogface. ¡°Where do you think it goes?¡±


    "Don''t cross it," I order, catching his arm before he can take a step closer. He looks at me with a tense frown. ¡°We don''t know how charged its runes are. What if you drain them passing through and get trapped wherever you end up?¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± complains Dogface, pouting like a child. ¡°Spoilsport.¡±


    On the far side of the otherwise sparse room, we finally find the door that is supposed to lead to the private chambers of the baron and lord of the castle. Dogface only needs a few seconds with his lockpick before it opens with a soft click. At least for something the scoundrel has no equal. I softly fit the door back into its frame, holding it in place with a toothpick. Now, it only appears to be closed. I take another toothpick from my pack and start pulling and prodding at the annoying pieces of salted jerky stuck in the holes between my teeth before I look up again. According to what we know, no one should pass by here. The baron and his family are hunting in the forest. On a trip, The Crow somehow managed to arrange. There should be only a small staff left behind because nobles need to be attended to wherever they go. But it is still better to be as quiet as we can. It is impossible to anticipate every unforeseen event.


    After crossing another series of mazelike corridors in which we would have gotten lost without the help of our castle map, we finally arrive at the chambers of the lord.


    ¡°What a fucking bed!¡± exclaims Dante. ¡°Are you seeing this? Those nobles know how to live.¡±


    ¡°He''s a magician, what did you expect?¡± observes Dogface.


    The truth is that it is huge. The mattress, covered in snow-white satin, must be wider than my room down in the slums and is almost two feet thick. They must have sheared several flocks of sheep just for the stuffing. Or do these people stuff them with feathers? I am not able to tell from the smell alone. I can not smell nearly anything here. An intense odor of lavender drowns even the lingering smoke that swirls over the embers of the grand fireplace on the other side of the room. Maybe I could find out if I touch it. So soft. So white. So brilliant. Even the snow-white pillows have the characteristic satin shine. The washerwomen must suffer to keep them that color. Or maybe they have magic for it. I don''t think so. A real magician does not care about such mundane things.


    ¡°What do you say, Kivi, wanna try it out after we finish here?¡± asks Dogface, shaping his thumb and index finger into a circle and inserting his other index finger through it with a pumping motion while smiling at me impishly, showing me his half-rotten teeth.


    ¡°Keep dreaming, mutt,¡± I snort at him, giving him the stink eye before moving past him to get to another intricately carved wooden door.


    ¡°Frigid bitch,¡± he mumbles at my back while I am already entering the adjacent room. I pass by rows after rows of fine suits and silken, vividly colored dresses and approach an enormous trunk made of dark oak resting on the floor in a corner. I wonder how The Crow knew it would be exactly where he told us and why he could not do the job himself.


    The trunk has no lock, but a huge rune that emits a soft bluish glow decorates the front. I know the meaning of this one: seal. It is a rune I know inside and out. Apart from the simple version that you can find covering the hulls of some ships, to close off all the slits between planks, I have frequently seen the complex version on the doors and windows of wealthy people. From what I know, the simple version always remains active until the magic of the ink that powers it is used up and has to be reapplied, while the complex version allows a specific magician to activate and deactivate it whenever they want. In theory, the trigger is coded to a specific mana signature, but it does not matter. I can modify the rune itself without having to deactivate it. Stupid magicians, too confident in their arts. They rarely resort to more mundane and more difficult-to-circumvent solutions. I pull out a small vial and a paintbrush from my backpack and apply a couple more strokes until it becomes the silence rune instead. Or the compound rune sound seal, as The Crow called it when he showed me how to do this. A not well-known rune, even between mages dedicated to runic engraving, at least according to The Crow. Maybe that is because it is unstable and short-lived. Not that it matters for what I need it to do. The rune is so large that I have to use almost all of my remaining imbued ink. Finally, it shimmers and flicks, emitting an ozone-like stench. Its meaning has changed. A thin line appears between the body of the trunk and the lid. I pick it up in ghostly silence, thanks to my modified rune, even though it is somewhat stuck. Inside the trunk, there is almost nothing, just some kind of folded robe or cloak, a note, and a metal artifact.


    ¡°What is that?¡± The sudden voice behind me makes me stumble in fright.


    ¡°Fuck! Dante,¡± I complain. ¡°Don''t startle me like that. If I was still modifying the rune it could have gone very wrong.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± He looks at me like a beaten puppy. If it was Dogface, I would have called that look fake. But Dante, one of the few decent guys in our gang, has always looked up to me.


    ¡°It doesn''t matter, just be more careful next time.¡± I take the artifact out of the trunk. It is made of brass or something similar, encircling a half-sphere of glass. A slender metallic needle quivers faintly over an aged ivory background, polished to a blank shine without any letters, numbers, or other markings. Around the edges, the brass casing is engraved with minute swirls that seem to be hiding hidden depths. Looking at them, I feel a soft call in a certain direction, inviting me there, like a warm hearth with flickering fires inviting me to sit down and warm up after a winter night lost in the storm. ¡°Looks like a compass,¡± I say finally, realizing I am still in what must be the wardrobe. ¡°I guess it''s what The Crow wants.¡±


    ¡°I don''t think north is that way,¡± observes Dante. ¡°Is it broken?¡±


    ¡°You ask me, but who should I ask?¡± I fold the soft cloak again, let everything slide into my backpack, and sit up. "Where is Dogface?¡± For some reason, Dante''s face turns red like a tomato. ¡°Fuck, what has he done this time?¡± I resign myself while I impulsively rub my temple.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Dante looks at me like he wants to tell me but fears to do so.


    ¡°He is relieving himself on the magician''s bed.¡±


    I look at Dante, dumbfounded. He grows even more red.


    ¡°He what? No! Dogface, you fucking idiot! What the hell are you doing!¡± I scream exasperated, while I run back to the bedroom. I find him there, standing on the bed with his dirty shoes. He seems to be contemplating, with a smile on his face, how a yellowish stain decorates the center of the mattress while he reties the front of his trousers. The smell of ammonia and wet wool drowns out the lavender.


    ¡°The bastard is gonna sleep comfortable tonight,¡± he says with a shit-eating grin.


    ¡°Why? Dogface, why? Now everyone who comes in here will know that someone has been here.¡±


    ¡°Chill down, Kivi. They''ll find out anyway when they realize that whatever we came here to steal is missing,¡± Dogface counters. He takes a look at the compass that still lies in my hands. I feel the sudden urge to hide it from him, but Dogface looks away again, seemingly uninterested. Or not wanting to fuck with The Crow, most likely.


    "Let''s get out of here once and for all," suggests Dante. He seems nervous, or embarrassed. As if it would be much more tragic if we are discovered now than it was before.


    "The fuck are you talking about? When are we going to get another opportunity to take something for ourselves," scowls Dogface seeming indignant. ¡°The way I see it we did all the work. We should get rewarded for it. We got the trinket The Crow wants. There is no one here and we have time.¡± He jumps down from the bed still grinning and chuckling under his breath. ¡°I think the mage must have some jewelry hidden in some drawer, exotic weapons, or expensive liquor. I''m sure he likes to drink at night before banging with the maids.¡±


    "Mages are gentlemen. They do not fornicate with someone of lower status," states Dante.


    ¡°What? You can''t believe that. Don''t be stupid,¡± Dogface snorts back.


    I roll my eyes.


    ¡°Half a bell and we meet in the portal room,¡± I concede. As much as I would love to contradict Dogface, he has a point.


    ¡°I saw a strange sword hanging on the wall in one of the rooms we passed,¡± observes Dante. His eyes are shining. Maybe I''ve misjudged him and he''s just anxious to get out of the room. ¡°It may be mithril.¡±


    "Nah, don''t get your hopes up, I think it was just silver," says Dogface. ¡°Still worth taking.¡±


    ¡°How do you know which one I''m referring to?¡±


    ¡°You think I''m blind? I saw it too, let''s get a closer look at it.¡±


    I wait until I''m left alone in the bedroom. I have another destination in mind. Weapons and artifacts are temporary. Knowledge and practice give real power. I''m in a magician''s house. He must have supplies to practice his art somewhere. If the man is adept at drawing runes, he must have imbued ink, or at least other alchemical ingredients, crystals to store mana with which to operate that strange portal. Whatever they used to chisel the runes that make it work into the stony surface of the arc can¡ät be cheap. Where would he store them?


    On the castle plan, there was something called a Duel dungeon, but that sounds more like a place to practice magical combat, or combat in general, and not what I am looking for. No, either he keeps his ingredients in a laboratory or some studio adjacent to his private quarters. I begin to open the nearby doors one by one. I find a living room with an enormous table carved out of a single piece of wood, another bedroom, a small courtyard with a pond filled with flowering water lilies and hyacinths surrounded by cherry blossom trees, and more bedrooms.


    I stop in place when I hear footsteps echoing in the distance. I slip into the shadows behind a column in the last room I entered. Two maids approach the room I am in, conversing in low voices. I get my crossbow out of my backpack. Luckily, they pass by the doorframe and disappear again around a bend in the hallway. I store my crossbow again and continue exploring.


    The next room I enter feels alive with the mingling scents of mystery and madness. A heady concoction clings to the air like an invisible fog that refuses to disperse. I breathe in. A deep, earthy, and almost hypnotic smell hits my nostrils. It smells of forest and rain, of damp soil hiding the sting of rotten eggs, balanced by a darker, acrid, resinous edge, almost like leather scorched in a fire or the smokiness of incense lingering in the air. Sweet, cloying notes of honey and beeswax thread through the chaos, an odd comfort against the sharper smells. On a shelf on one wall, there is a row of glass bottles filled with crushed herbs and lonely eyeballs floating in a murky liquid. Those must be alchemical reagents. Ones I have never seen before. Too many to take with me, and I do not know which of them may be valuable.


    In front of a window through which you can see the distant mountains is an oak desk. In the drawers, I discover a wad of paper, a bundle of brushes, and a couple of strange tools that I have never seen in my life. I exchange the brushes for those in my backpack. They have a strong handle made of a bone or ivory-like substance and soft but sturdy bristles, way better than the ones I had.


    If I can find something to store the paper without getting it stained, maybe I can take it with me. It is not that you can not get it elsewhere, but such white and fine paper is expensive. It must be imported.


    On one wall, there is a shelf with books. Immaculately clean books. There is not a speck of dust anywhere close to them. I wonder why, maybe it is because of the runes on the shelf. I wish I had the time to study them. But I need to speed up. I may have wasted too much time already.


    I go over to read the titles. Maybe I can find something useful to take with me. Knowledge is power. Let us see: The Maid and the Dark Knight, Rescued by the Dark Knight, Alone with the Dark Knight, Bitten by the Dark Knight.


    What the heck? Stupid vampire romance novels? What is this nonsense? I thought I was in the wizard''s study, but I must have been wrong. Treatise on magical and mythical beasts found in the Divine Sun Mountains of Eternal Spring. More useful, if I knew where the hell some mountains with such a ridiculous name were located and I had to go there. I may be able to fence it. I will take it. Initiation to alchemy for ladies, from beauty potions to love potions. What the hell? More vampire garbage. On bonding and taming spirit beasts. Interesting, into my backpack it goes too. More vampire garbage. How to converse with elves and other lower races without causing offense. I almost piss myself trying to stop myself from laughing out loud. The art of embroidery with magic threads. It could be interesting if I had a way to get them, but no. Body runes: defensive and utilitarian tattoos for apprentices.


    Now we are speaking! Fortune finally smiles at me. It had not even occurred to me that runes could be drawn on a human body. If only I had enough imbued ink left. Imagine what I could do.


    I am yanked out of my reverie by the sound of agitated voices echoing up the hallway.


    ¡°Yes, some scoundrel has urinated all over the lord''s bed. What will we do? You can see the shoe prints. Oh, no! This is the end. What will we do when he finds out? They will throw us out of the castle.¡±


    Shit! Stupid Dogface always has to cause one mess after the other with his antics.


    "Don''t worry, Elisa, we will find the culprit and make him pay, don''t worry," says a man with a deep booming voice, trying to calm the anguished wails of the woman. ¡°When we find the culprit, and you can be sure we will find him, he will pay for it. I''ll make sure the lord knows who is at fault. Merkan, go and get Arkan and Oniel.


    ¡°Right away captain.¡±


    An armed guard crosses the hallway at a fast pace, clanking his boots all over the marble floor. I wait a few moments and sneak out behind them, keeping to the shadows. More guards appear in the courtyard in front of the door to the wizard''s bedroom. I need to find another way back to the tower we used to come in. I hope I don''t get lost. I pass by a dining room, a chapel, a room full of paintings of men with thick mustaches, another armory, and a kitchen with people busy preparing a feast for when the nobles return from their hunt.


    ¡°Hey! Who are you?¡±


    I close the door to the kitchen again and walk away quickly. Better not to run. The last thing I need right now is to attract more attention. Having to open doors randomly is not ideal. I can hear footsteps behind me echoing around a bend, others in front. I open another door and find myself in the portal room, alone, with no one in sight. More than half a bell must have passed already. Where are Dante and Dogface?


    ¡°Captain. Arkan and Oniel seem to be asleep and I couldn''t wake them up.


    ¡°What? Explain.¡±


    ¡°We found a rope tied to a battlement on the outside of the southern tower. And someone undressed both of our lookouts.


    ¡°Damn! This is more serious than we thought, they have invaded the castle. They are posing as guards.¡±


    ¡°They must have a wizard capable of performing sleep spells.¡±


    ¡°Someone go and get the protection amulets from the armory.¡±


    ¡°But why would they invade the castle just to piss on the lord''s bed?¡±


    ¡°How should I know? Maybe it''s some rival magician who believes the lord offended him for some reason.


    ¡°But why would he resort to something so vulgar and despicable to get revenge?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it is one of those rejected suitors of Miss Kelia?


    ¡°Could it be that? Shit! You two, go and stand guard in front of her rooms. You two go to the gatehouse and lower the portcullis. A couple of men stay here on guard, the rest go and call everyone to the parade ground. If you see a guard who is not familiar to you, arrest him. And someone needs to get the mana-suppressing shackles from the armory.


    ¡°Captain, what about the portal?¡±


    ¡°Huh? The portal? Someone go and wake up the portal-mage to deactivate it. Intiel and Seraphiel will stand guard over him while he does so.


    More metallic-sounding footsteps ring through the hallway, growing in volume, coming closer. Shit! If they discovered the rope we left in the tower, there is no way out that way. It would be risky to scale the wall in a hurry now that the guards are alert. Where the hell is Dante and Dogface? The footsteps grow even louder. I can not keep waiting. Everyone must know how to take care of themselves first. Or at least that is what The Crow always tells us. They are more slippery than you would expect when it comes to it. They may be able to find a way out. What about me? Letting myself get captured is not an option. Mages are not known to be lenient with those they consider their lesser. I can hear muffled voices coming from the hallway. My eyes fall on the shining runes of the portal. Why not? The door behind me opens. I start running.


    ¡°What the fuck? Stop her!¡±


    The shimmering distortion sucks me in with a soft pop.

 3-The weight of Mana

    My stomach lurches as gravity sputters and stalls out. Directions lose their meaning. There is no up, no down, only buzzing emptiness. The glowing runes blur into streaks, like falling stars, before winking out one after another and leaving behind only the void of darkness. For a moment, I feel weightless, falling and floating, until something yanks me toward a point of light in the distance. Every nerve in my body screams in protest.


    I emerge into the fresh air, stumbling and disoriented. My head spins. I throw up the jerky I just ate behind the trunk of a towering pine tree.


    Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see an identical stone arc to the one I left behind in the castle. The shimmering distortion beneath it bends and ripples. It explodes into a swirling kaleidoscope of colors that dissolve into the dense ambient air. I¡äm about to try to start running when I see the runes carved in the stones go completely dark, spent, empty. I may be safe for a while.


    Another violent spurt of vomit gushes out of my mouth. It flies in a wide arc over the gnarling roots and needles that cover the ground before me. My legs shake as if made out of jelly. I can feel a stinging pain throbbing inside my chest.  I feel like I just surfaced after spending too much time underwater. Every wheezing breath I take seems to want to burn my lungs. Why does the air feel so dense, so heavy? I try to right myself and get a hold of my spinning head, but my balance is all wonky. I feel like if I had one too many shots of the cheap moonshine they brew in the slums.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± I sit down again, holding my forehead with my hands until the violent retching stops and my stomach settles. Only a sour aftertaste in my throat remains.


    My head has cleared up, but the sensation of weight pressing down on me remains. It feels almost electric, like the charged calm before the storm. It buzzes over my skin and makes the hairs on my arms stand up.


    ¡°What is this?¡± The air seems alive, crisp, sparkling. You can almost taste it on your tongue, sharp and penetrating, with a slight metallic aftertaste. ¡°Where the fuck am I?¡±


    It¡äs the mana density. It must be at least ten times higher here than in the city. Maybe even more. It hangs thick in the air, almost like it¡¯s about to condense, saturating every breath. My lungs have stopped hurting now. I feel like I¡äm breathing for the first time. Everything I did before in my life must have been just the illusion of breathing. I can feel the mana suffusing me, washing through my whole body, tickling every cell, eroding the tiredness. Some of it gets gobbled up by the half-finished gathering spiral carved into my core, but most of it exits me again when I breathe out. I feel awake, alert, and utterly rested as if I had just woken up from a long sleep.


    My heart is galloping in my chest, not out of fear but awe, spurred on by the sheer potency of the place. I look around over a sea of shimmering green trees and towering mountains. Everything is too bright, too sharp, too vivid. I can hear splashing water rushing over the stones somewhere below me, down in the valley. I feel like it¡¯s almost drowning out my hearing, but it¡¯s not. I can hear just fine, maybe even better than ever.  Birds chirp and trill, so high up in the air they seem just colorful blobs fluttering between the branches. The ground beneath me hums faintly, resonating in my bones like the silent beat of a bass drum. I feel like I am in a different world. Somewhere where everything is more. The boundaries of reality are malleable here, waiting to be rewritten. Everything is possible.


    ¡°This is why all of them are so strong, isn¡ät it?¡± I mutter, catching my breath. ¡°Fucking nobles!¡± I should be able to finish my mana-gathering spiral in just a few days here. I can finally increase my core to the copper-rank. I could become a real mage here in under a week, couldn¡ät I? Well, an apprentice.


    Quit daydreaming, I can¡ät dally. I need some distance between me and my pursuers to shake them off. Once they manage to recharge the runes of that portal, they will swarm this place. I need to find another way back to the city before The Crow gets antsy.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    I¡äm nowhere close, am I? I may have seriously fucked up this time. With this mana density, this place can¡ät be anywhere close to my home city. I¡äll never make it back in time.


    Breathe, Kivi, breathe. I need to shake off my pursuers first before I can reassess. My eyes dart around over soft beds of moss, shimmering with dewdrops. Pierced by solitary brown needles. Fields of glowing fern give way to dense underbrush. Thorny shrubs and creeping ivy strangle the dark trunks of the trees that reach upwards like the fingers of a giant trying to catch the clouds. It will be hard to advance through here without leaving an obvious trail. Maybe I could try to cross the river after wading a while upstream. That should also throw off any dogs or other beasts that hunt by scent they may bring with them. Maybe I can scale the wall of the gorge on the other side.


    The portal starts humming at my back. The first rune is recovering its glow, sympathetically linked through space with another rune somewhere far away. I start running down towards the river.


    The icy water bites at my legs, sending shivers up my spine. The weight of my backpack is tensing my shoulders and neck, complicating my precarious balance over the slick, algae and moss-covered wobbling boulders that stick out from the riverbed. I need to be careful not to stumble and fall. The last thing I want is for the contents of my backpack to get wet. But the river is not playing nice. Each step upstream feels like a battle. The raging current swirling around my thighs pushes me in different directions. It wants to pull me under, to smash my body between the rocks with unrelenting force. Shimmering trout and salmons pass me by, jumping up the waterfalls like they don¡ät exist. Almost as if mocking my efforts. Smug in their superiority, even if I can¡ät hear their taunts because the roar of the water drowns out every other sound save for my thundering heartbeat. With each step forward, the weight of the water seems to increase, battering my aching muscles, but I can¡ät stop. I can¡ät afford to. Distant barks reach my ears whenever the wind changes direction. They are already here. I need to speed up.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I get out of the water after another bend of the river, drenched from the waist down. I let myself fall onto a lichen-covered boulder to catch my breath for a second. Something hisses loudly behind me, and I whirl around, almost falling into the water because of the unexpected weight of my backpack. I come face to face with an enormous serpent baring her fangs at me. Lazily warming up her body, bathing in the sun on another boulder close over, but tensely coiled up and ready to strike if I dare to step closer.


    Fuck! There are predators here. I should have thought of that. What else is out there? Wolfs? Bears? Mountain-lions? There could be even mana beasts in this ambient mana density. I may be in well over my head. I step back slowly, without stopping to break my stare contest with the reptile. Is it venomous? It must be with those fangs. Slowly, the serpent lowers its head onto its coiled body, judging the distance between us as far enough for its safety. I take another step back. It doesn¡ät stop looking at me even so.


    The walls of the gorge are almost vertical, slick, and humid down here by the water. But it isn¡ät that hard to start scaling them because the water seems to have carved channels, cracks, and holes into the iron-red surface of the rock. The rubber-soled boots I borrowed for our heist help a lot. Maybe I can keep them if I never find my way back. Maybe I shouldn¡ät go back. The Crow will be furious with me for being late, for letting myself get distracted by avarice. I should have known better and stayed on top of those two idiots. But what else can I do? I¡äve never been far away from the city. I don¡ät know anybody anywhere. Do the gangs elsewhere operate the same way? Probably, I don¡ät know. I¡äve always dreamed of having my own space in which to be left alone. To be unbothered by the fuss and chatter and the chaos and continuous problems of the other children of the street with which I grew up. But right now, the never-before-known solitude weighs heavily on me. Threatening to smash me into the ground if I don¡ät get a grip on myself. I¡äm all alone out here. I only can rely on myself. There is no one else to play distraction, giving me a chance to be lost in the crowd or dark alleys. There is no known city, with its winding streets and secret routes. Holes in crumbled buildings and stinking sewers that all of us know in and out. No. There is only the unknown wilderness, exciting but also terrifyingly alien.


    A flake I was holding onto breaks apart. I hang there and watch how it plunges into the roiling waters. Stop thinking so much and climb, Kivi. Breathe and climb. I can hear more barks in the distance, echoing around the bends in the gorge from somewhere downstream. I look up and climb with renewed vigor, chimneying through a deep cleft barely wide enough for my body and backpack to pass through. I crawl deep in the shadows until I haul myself onto a ledge halfway up the canyon. It is a lateral highway hidden from beneath by a false peak. I can observe a pack of dogs down there, coming around a bend, barking, howling, and whining while wading, slipping, and dragging themselves up the stream. A sudden lightning bolt illuminates the shadows. Fuck! Was that a pre-charged talisman, or are those mages? Why are there mages after me? I remain in my hiding spot until they rush past another bend and continue with renewed haste.


    Some mountain goats observe me from above, almost running all over the cliff. They come close from time to time. Watching me with deep golden-brown eyes before darting away when I¡äm about to reach them. Something strange is happening. The rocks I hold onto seem to gnarl and shift under my fingers, slowly smoothing into a polished, mirrorlike, holdless surface. What is happening? Are the goats doing this? The watching eyes seem to glow with hidden lights. It¡äs almost like they are smiling, smug that I have fallen into their trap. Yearning to throw me out of their territory, eager to watch me fall onto the sharp rocks and the roiling waters.


    But they won¡ät succeed if I can outpace them. Their manipulation is slow going. It¡äs almost like the rock resists them, stubborn in its ageless, unmoving stillness. It wants to hold onto its shape until it finally concedes with a soft groan before going back to sleep. And the stupid goats don¡ät seem to understand that if they start manipulating the stones just a few feet above my fingers each time, I can be well past that before it snaps into its new shape. It¡äs now a race onward without a way back, a challenge to see who can outpace who, girl or beast. My heart drums wildly in my chest in fear and excitement. A smile escapes my lips. I¡äm your worst opponent. They don¡ät call me Spider-Girl as a joke. It may even benefit me in the long run. There is no way those mages will be able to follow me up the same way. Well, probably, who knows what kind of magic they control? At least there is no easy way for them to get the dogs up here.


    I finally have reached the top. After walking over a grass and small shrub-covered plateau, I am looking down into another valley. There are more valleys, canyons, and mountain chains in whatever direction I look at, covered in a dense sea of dark green trees, slowly swaying in the wind with a ripple-like motion. A storm is brewing in the distance, slowly advancing towards us. I have no idea which direction I need to go to get back to my city, well, to get back to any kind of civilization. I can see the portal far away to the southwest. People are crawling all around it like little ants. For now, I need more distance. It doesn¡ät matter much in which direction. Are they all here for me? What the fuck did The Crow make me steal?


    I munch on some jerky to recover my energy. I take the brass compass out. Will I be left alone if I leave it behind for them to find? Maybe, but that would mean I won¡ät be able to show my face back home for some time. The Crow won¡ät tolerate failure from one of his elite after causing such a ruckus. Attention is bad for the business. If I got results, it wouldn¡ät matter. But attention without results¡­ I can¡ät go back empty-handed. I would risk him revoking his protection. The slums are full of opportunists, from horny teenage gang members roaming around in groups searching for trouble and entertainment to organ dealers or pimps looking for fresh meat for their brothels. When I was just a scrawny child, before The Crow took me in and started to train me, it wasn¡ät much of a problem. But now it may well be. The slums are no place for a solitary young woman. But where else could I go?


    Munching on the hard and salty meat, I shake the compass and watch how the needle spins until it stops quivering and points somewhere to the east. What could it be pointing at? Probably some kind of treasure or The Crow wouldn¡ät be interested. It may point somewhere close to our city or at least somewhere in the Solaria kingdom. It would make little sense else. Or does it? Should I try to follow it? Better than any other idea I don¡ät have.


    The sky is getting darker and darker. For now, I need a place to hide for the night. Ideally, I need to get there before the storm rolls in. I watch around. To the north, the cliffs are a brighter red in color, filled with big dark holes and tunnels. Maybe I can find a cave.

 4-The goat and the shadow

    Yesterday, I barely managed to find a cave before the heavy rain started to pour down. I collapsed to the ground, utterly exhausted, trying to catch some sleep, shivering in the cold, steaming dampness like a drenched kitten until I remembered I had a cloak in my backpack. The one I got in the castle.


    It is an astonishing piece of equipment, enchanted to keep you warm and dry and something else impossible to make out. I have never seen some of the runes embroidered into it. There is nothing to do on this grey morning apart from watching the rain. The mana-laden fog rolls past.


    Out of boredom, I am trying to decipher the note that came with the cloak. It says something about the cloak being a gift for some girl called Kelia, the niece of the mage, or something. To keep her warm once she starts her apprenticeship with some sage in some ridiculous named mountains. I think I read about them before somewhere. The note is nearly unreadable. How can a magician have such bad handwriting?


    The suffocating, pungent, and musky stench of urine and wet hair drenching the cave in its sour tang reminds me that I am not alone. One of those pesky goats is standing at the cave entrance. Sheltering itself from the rain. A buck, watching me with beady eyes, blocking the way out with his body.


    He watches me. I watch him. The walls around me start to groan. Something moves behind my back. We both freeze, rooted into place. A small bat flutters past us. It flies out into the rain but instantly turns around and darts past us to disappear into the darkness. The walls start to groan again. They shift, boxing me in, moving closer and closer like a wine press.


    Enough of this nonsense! I search through my backpack until I feel the reassuring coldness of the steel of my dagger. I take a look at the glowing horns in front of me. My determination wanes. The walls rumble closer again. My heart spikes like a crazed drummer. I rummage through my backpack again until I get a hold of my crossbow. The walls shift again. With trembling fingers, I load one of my poisoned bolts and cock the string. The walls shift again, making me stumble, nearly making me pull the trigger by accident.


    I finally point towards the buck and let the bolt fly.


    It impacts with a wet thud, and the walls stop groaning. Echoes of the flightpath still linger in the air until they disperse into chilling silence. The buck watches me with forlorn eyes, seeming confused. A small trickle of blood paints his chest red, right below the throat. He wobbles drunkenly but does not fall asleep. Shit! I should have known the poison would not be strong enough. It is designed for tin-grade humans, not evolved magical beasts of whatever grade this buck may be. I watch him shake his head, trying to dispel the drowsiness he must be feeling, seemingly forgetting about me for the time being. Now or never.


    I dart towards him and punch my dagger into his pulsing jugular. One of his horns crazes my forearm.  Jarring vibrations pulse through my armbones and hammer into my shoulder joints. I jump back, cradling my numb arm, trying to dispel the lingering resonance that chaotically races through my chest. I need to get out of the way of the crazed buck. He wildly kicks and bucks and jumps around like a beheaded chicken, painting the walls in blood. His deep, anxious, bleating wails echo all over the place. Finally, he crushes his head one too many times against the rocks, and part of the ceiling comes down. He remains there, pinned in place until he slowly whimpers out.


    I breathe out softly, massaging my numb arm. Horrified by the grotesque show. The blood trickles slowly into the ground. I should try to collect it. Magic beast blood is a substitute for imbued ink. Although, it is not supposed to last long before it goes bad. I rummage through my backpack to find my empty bottles before it is too late.


    I fill both of my bottles to the brink. The blood still flows, even if the buck has ceased breathing an eternity ago. I should try to get everything I can from it. My supplies will not last long. Who knows where I can get more or if I will be able to hunt one of these buggers out in the open. I would love to cook a steak. The problem is that in this damp cave and the pouring rain outside, there will not be a single piece of dry wood to start a fire and cook or smoke the meat. The smoke from a fire would also reveal my position to those bastards who pursue me.


    Can I eat some of it raw? I have heard that some mages consume the livers of mana beasts raw because it is supposed to maintain the potency, the mana, and the nutrients. Nausea assaults me only thinking about it, but I can not be too picky. I turn the goat over and reach down with my dagger to try to cut its belly open.


    Instead of slicing smoothly, the blade drags, snags, and skips over the dense hairs and fibrous skin that refuse to yield cleanly to the inadequate edge, barely able to leave ragged cuts. I can feel the strain building up in my wrist with the irregular friction, demanding me to apply more force and push harder. Demanding to walk on the verge of slipping and losing control over the blade. I wish I had a dressing knife, not a dagger more designed for piercing than cutting. Maybe I do not have enough practice, or you need better steel to cut mana beasts. Finally, a whole section tears. My blade pushes through, accidentally piercing the stomach and drenching my hands and the goats inside in acid. Fuck! My fingers rummage through the warm intestines until I get hold of the slippery and gelatinous, palm-sized organ and cut it out. I run towards the cave mouth and hold it outside to let it wash clean in the pouring rain before it is too late.


    After a few minutes, once the blood stops dripping, I give it a dubious look, not sure if I want to try it or not. My stomach rumbles. Yeah, I do not have a lot of options. The adventures of yesterday have left me ravenous. Well, it can not be any fresher. I close my eyes and bite down.


    It is¡­ It is not that bad. Much better than the rat skewers we roasted by the dozens in my childhood during harsh winters. A bit chewy and gamey, musky and sweet, leaving a metallic aftertaste with a hint of sourness once you swallow it down. I can feel the mana buzzing inside me, slowly absorbing into my stomach before flooding my core with a rush. I feel the earth and the stone, hard and ageless, warm but without care, a quiet observer. A bit of drowsiness muddles my senses, but the last remaining sleeping poison is too diluted. Or maybe there was not enough time for the liver to absorb a high enough dose to affect me much. I blink, a bit overwhelmed, just standing there until a gust of wind blows the rain into my face and makes me step back. Lightning crashes somewhere close, followed by roaring thunder.


    I look back into the cave, over my attempt at butchering resembling a crime scene, and shudder. Life is hard. You need stubbornness to survive.


    At least in this weather, those bastards chasing me will not be able to advance much either. What can I do to prepare myself for when it stops? I should check out that book about body runes I got. Maybe I can find something useful.


    Even after just glancing through the introduction of the book, I feel like all my previous knowledge about runes has been thrown out of the window.


    It speaks of the different components each rune can have; I need to take notes:Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    1- Gathering components: the swirly, round, mostly spiral-like parts. They collect ambient mana to make the rune function.


    I always thought that it was the mana in the imbued ink that made a rune work, but no. The mana in the ink just carves a way, a guidance for other mana to follow.


    2- Connecting components: mostly straight lines of uniform or variable thickness. They are used to connect every other runic component together.


    3- Regulators: A lot of different forms, sizes, and shapes. They adjust the flow of mana to something steady and continuous that the rest of the rune can handle. This is important when designing runes that you want to be able to work under different ambient mana density conditions. To avoid mana overload and explosions.


    4- Storage components: Like a cheap inbuild mana-crystal. They accumulate mana to be released later or altogether when you do not need a continuous effect but something to toggle on and off or designed for a single use. They are a bit fragile and may burn out after use.


    5- Switches: Components that turn the rune on or off by feeding them a signal (a small trickle of mana).


    6- Transformers: Tons of different shapes. The part of the rune that creates the magic effect from the mana it receives. They can create discrete or channeled effects depending on the type. They can be of fixed or variable intensity. It depends on the mana flow. Some discrete ones can be single-use if the effect they create is very intense. It depends on the material you engrave them in and the quality of your ink.


    What I formerly thought a rune was. Trying to dissect my basic seal rune, I can even make out a lot of the parts the book speaks of. It has a very similar gathering component to one of the ones shown in the book, a regulator and a transformer, and not much else. Well, apart from the connectors.


    I even understand now why the seal sound rune The Crow showed me is unstable. The problem is that the normal seal rune has a regulator tuned to the consumption of its transforming component. When you add another transformer to the mix, the regulator can not keep up, and the rune starts to consume the mana from the imbued ink until it is sucked dry and it sputters out. Well, at least that is my conclusion. The transformation between both runes works because if you follow each step in the order The Crow taught me to do it, there is not a single instant in which the rune stops working, risking it to overload and explode. You draw the new transformer right after the other transformer. Then, you finally connect them both, and with the last stroke of your brush, everything clicks into place. Well, for a while, at least.  When you connect them like that, the second transformer is called a modifier. I wonder how The Crow learned how to do it.


    It shouldn¡ät be that hard for me to create a real silence rune just by changing out the regulator from the seal sound rune.


    I take a piece of paper and draw my idea out in goat blood. You need to end with the gathering component because you don¡ät want your rune to activate too soon when you are still drawing. I take a few steps back and try to hide behind a boulder, a bit anxious to see if it will burn up or explode.


    Not even a second later, the blood fizzles. The rune starts to glow softly. I remain crouched behind the rock, brazing my knees, listening to my heartbeat. Still nothing, the paper remains there, emitting an ethereal blue hue. I slowly step closer, with tensed muscles, ready to dart away, but nothing happens. It seems stable. I hammer a stone onto the ground next to the paper. No sound reaches my ears.


    It works! I created a rune! I created a runic talisman all alone.


    Can I inscribe the rune on my body? Well, it seems that you can not, judging from the book. I¡äm not sure why exactly. The funny thing is that, after a lengthy introduction speaking about different rune components, the book says that the basic body rune doesn¡ät use nearly any of them. I am not sure why it listed them all, but I will not complain.


    The typical basic body rune is very simple and can be very small. It has just two components. A variable intensity transformer, specific to the effect you want, and something called a feeder to replace the gatherer. Instead of gathering ambient mana, the rune works by feeding it a trickle from the mana you gather in your core. The faster you let your mana flow, the more intense the desired effect. And to stop, you just cut off the flow. There are much more complicated combinations you can use, but well, that is the base. In any case, any of them uses a feeder too.


    Does this mean that it is dangerous to engrave a rune using a gatherer on your skin? Probably yes. Why else would you design a rune that uses up your internal mana if you could use ambient mana instead? There must be some risk involved.


    Designing a new silence body-rune shouldn¡ät be that hard. Just attach a feeder to the first transformer and throw the gatherer and regulator out of the window. Simple, it¡äs only a 3-part rune, and connectors are not counted. I even know where all the connectors go on the seal and sound components of the rune.


    The only problem is that I can¡ät make them work right now. To feed a body rune, you need to be able to expel mana externally, and that is something you can¡ät do until your core reaches Copper grade. And I¡äm still at Tin.


    Maybe the best use of my time until the stormy rain outside relaxes would be to try to increase my cultivation. It can¡ät take that long in this mana-density. I¡äm eager to try those runes out.


    I sit down in the back of the cave, cross-legged, straightening my spine. I try to tune out the splattering sound of the rain, the howling wind, and the acrid stench that remains in here. Breathe out. Let your thoughts go. There is no noise, no darkness, no carcass of a goat, only my pulsing core. It doesn¡ät work. I¡äm shivering. I pull the cloak over, bathe in its warm embrace, and close it before shifting away from the entrance to face the darkness. Better. I close my eyes. Slowly, all the distractions are washed away. My breath is like waves kissing the shore, bringing in mana, melting away everything else. The knot of anxiety in my chest I wasn¡ät aware of until now loosens up and unravels, to be washed away too. There is only the dense mana left, flowing through my being, sucked in by the vortex, by the spiral I started building into my core.


    I take a deep breath and hold the mana-laden air in, letting it trickle into my core until it¡äs filled to the brim. Slowly, I take hold of the mana inside and shove it towards the end of my vortex, with a circular motion, increasing the pressure more and more until it snaps into place, making the spiral grow by a little bit. It¡äs almost like painting a rune. Focus! It¡äs not the time for distractions. I breathe out, and with the next breath I take, my core is full to the brim again. What in the seven hells? I can continue building my spiral without stopping for a moment. In my home city, I needed to wait more than a day for my core to fill up again between each try.


    Entranced, I watch my vortex grow and grow. In what feels like less than one hour, I have advanced nearly the same as in all my 16 previous years of existence. The mana continues flowing into me without stopping. The new sections of my spiral are so smooth, so uniform. Compared to them, the rest seems like the work of an amateur, of a toddler, ragged and uneven, full of inefficiencies. It may as well be. I was a child when I started cultivating years ago. My first attempts were way too clumsy.


    I¡äm going about this the wrong way. There is no sense in building up on my inefficient spiral. Before I can start doubting myself, I tear it down.


    A stab of pain lances through my chest. I feel like somewhere below my navel is a raw open wound, throbbing, slowly closing with each ragged breath I take. The pain dissolves and fades with the waves until there is only a clean slate left, waiting to be built upon with each breath, each cycle. Slowly, my new vortex starts taking form, smooth and powerful, seamless, way denser than my first. I smile. The cave is suddenly cast in shadows. Is it getting dark already?


    I feel something move at my back and turn around, coming face to face with a black panther. I freeze. The big cat hisses. Where is my dagger? Right beside me. But I don¡ät want to get close to that thing. Why didn¡ät I think of getting something larger, a weapon to keep beasts far away? A dagger may seem nice in a city, easy to conceal, and there is no problem in getting close and personal. But that beast is massive and has fangs and claws, and¡­ He watches me tense and alert. No. She watches me. Her mammary glands are swollen. Does she have kitties? She watches me again, muscles rippling, like judging if it is worth it to get into a fight. She hisses again, then she catches the goat carcass by the neck and drags it out into the open. Disappearing into the soft drizzle.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± I mutter. I suck in the breath I forgot about with a whining gasp. ¡°Fuck, I can¡ät stay here.¡±

 5-Drifting

    I have been wandering for ages now, aimless. Drifting through the fog, following the vague direction marked by the compass. Pine forests gave way to deciduous forests and then to pine forests again. The gorges never end. There is always another wall to climb. There is always another pass to cross under the drizzling rain that permeates your clothes. That even my fancy cloak can not keep out. The rubber of my soles is falling apart, slowly eroded, sliced to pieces by the sharp stones I stumble upon. Too much grip, designed for climbing, not for running through the wilderness day and night. Once they give up, what will I do? I do not know. Continue barefoot?


    I have not crossed any big predators again. I just heard some wolves howl in the distance a few nights back. Maybe they are trying to leave the area too, spooked by all the people crawling around like ants.


    I wander.


    I wander and wander, changing direction each time I hear voices in the distance. I only stop when it gets too dark to continue. Seeking refuge in more caves or high up in the tree crowns, advancing my cultivation until I fall asleep, exhausted. I am really close to copper grade now. Maybe a day left from reaching it.


    I am munching on some wild carrots I found to stave off the hunger, trying to suck out the slightly bitter and spicy earthiness out of the pesky fibers that stick everywhere. I have been eating wild carrots, onions, and bitter acorns since I ran out of jerky and apple ages ago.


    I tried to hunt another goat. But before I can get close enough to shoot them, the skittish buggers run away. They skip and jump all over the canyon walls, mocking my slowness.


    I had to stop because I was running out of bolts.


    I have whittled myself a staff out of the sturdy branch of an ash tree I found floating in the river. It is reassuring to have a weapon with a bit more reach than my dagger. To help me keep my distance. The serpents sunbathing everywhere close to the river do not seem so menacing anymore.


    A bit uphill, there is a fig tree. A lonely fruit hangs halfway up his branches. The sweet honey-like smell invites me to come closer.


    Come and be nourished.


    It still hangs there, calling my name, promising to relieve the pain in my stomach. The forest fades away. There is only the fruit left. A red fist-sized fruit buzzing with mana. My mouth is moist with saliva.


    The smell is everything I can dream of. Nutty and earthy. Spilled milk over freshly cut grass.


    Come and be nourished.


    My fate has turned, finally. I will never be hungry again. It is so sad that I am still alone.


    Come and be nourished. Become part of us, become part of the cycle.


    Yes. I am not alone, am I? There are other trees out there, animals, moss, and mushrooms. Everything is connected. Everything takes care of each other. Germinate, absorb, grow, die, decompose, and germinate again, the cycle of life.


    Come and be nourished. Come and be nourishment.


    Be what? I feel a sharp sting stabbing deep into one of my calves. Movement, like angry hornets. I try to stand up, but something pulls on my leg. When did I even sit down? I lose sight of the fruit and stumble. The big leaves of the fig tree are right before my nose. When did I come so close? I gasp when I see my legs. Dark green creeping and thorny vines are coiling all around them. They bite into my skin, tearing ribbons of flesh and leaving crimson streaks behind. They coil around, growing tighter, trying to grasp my thighs. I gasp. What is this?


    Come and be nourishment.


    The fig tree is starting to glow with a sickly green hue. The vines come from there. They are growing from his roots. Bones are crunching under my feet with each step I take. I can see them now. Big femurs, a broken pelvis, the elongated skull of some canid.


    Come and be nourishment.


    There is a voice in my head, commanding, trying to guide my unconscious steps into oblivion.


    Come and be nourishment.


    ¡°Fuck you!¡± It has no grip on me now, has it? Not anymore. I am aware of it. I force myself still, breathing in deeply and observing. The vines still creep closer, but they are slow. They need me to hold still and let myself be engulfed. My pulse is pounding in my ears. I need to be faster. I begin to untangle myself with trembling hands, ripping each torn-free section into pieces when I get a hold of them. The broken vines release a dense, acrid sap that burns a rash onto my skin wherever it touches it. Little by little, I outpace the vines and break free. I dodge a last whipping branch and bolt away.


    I pause, out of breath. There are only oaks, maples, and chestnut trees around me now. There is no fig tree anywhere. I sit down on the wet grass until my heart calms. Trying to ignore the irritated skin of my legs. It is a bit warmer now. But the crowns of the trees still hide the timid sun rays that are trying to disperse the fog.


    The leaves above me rustle. Birds chirp, and squirrels chatter in rapid clicks and squeaks. I watch them running around between the ferns collecting acorns.  Up and down they go, from the floor to the branches, to be lost in the green crowns. I have not heard any people in a while nor seen them. Did I manage to shake them off? I exhale in relief, taking in the calm stillness of the forest. I lean on my new staff, caressing the smooth wood with my calloused hands. That fig was a trap, but maybe I can indulge myself today, catch a squirrel, roast it over a fire, and sleep without this gnawing hunger.


    Maybe then I could choose a river and follow it downstream until I find something. There must be a village or a city somewhere.


    My eyes follow another squirrel, darting along a slender branch. I grip my staff with firm hands, crouch low, exhaling slowly, still tracking the erratic movements. It pauses, sitting on another branch, twitching its tail while nibbling on an acorn. Upwind, oblivious. This is my chance. I approach it in silence, from downwind, each step measured, avoiding each fallen twig, each rustling leaf, stepping on the moss and the damp earth. I adjust the grip on my staff and tense, holding my breath.


    I lunge forward and whip out with my staff, catching the squirrel in the spine. It tumbles to the ground, crashing into the leaves. It stumbles around, dazed, chirping high in alarm. It tries to scramble away, tumbling all over the ground, unable to move its legs. Then I catch it and twist its neck to end its suffering.Stolen story; please report.


    I exhale. That went better than expected. Now, how do I start a fire?


    It is not raining anymore, but everything is still damp. Fallen raindrops shimmer between the green moss, the half-decayed leaves, and the barely visible spiderwebs. I wander on until I see a clearing up ahead. A fallen tree, branches flattening the bushes. I kick the bark and rotten wood off to reach the comparatively dry heartwood. Finger-wide white worms crawl away in search of a new hiding place. The heartwood should be dry enough to catch if I can kindle a flame. I only need some tinder. I turn over one stone after another, searching for something dry sheltered beneath. Finally, I find an empty fallen nest made out of leaves and feathers, lichen, and straw. I break it apart to get to the relatively dry insides. It will have to do.


    I break the heartwood apart into small kindlings and arrange them into a pyramid shape, leaving enough space below for my tinder and for the air to flow through. I take out my dagger from my backpack and start to rasp it over a stone to try to create a spark, but nothing happens. Maybe the stone is too wet or not the right kind. I try another one. One I found a while ago and kept in my backpack because I liked its color. This one is absolutely dry. I rasp again. No spark, still. I try to dry my blade on the hem of my shirt and try again. Finally, a spark, but it flies off in a random direction. Another one, this time it falls onto the tinder, center on, but winks out again. Another one, the same thing happens. The next one flies off target again, the next one on the tinder, but it still doesn¡ät catch. This isn¡ät working.


    I remember that someone told me how people of some tribes start fires by rubbing two sticks together at high speed. I go back to the forest to find a piece of softwood and a smaller round stick of harder wood, as dry as possible. Once back by my fireplace, I carve a small nick into the softwood with my dagger and sharpen the point of the hardwood stick. Then I press the softwood board down between my knees, press the point of the hardwood into the nick I made, and start spinning it furiously between my palms.


    Slowly, the softwood gets warm, then dark and hot, but it doesn¡ät catch fire. There is no ember, no smoke. I continue spinning, ignoring my aching shoulders and my stinging legs. My hands start to blister, to bleed. I give up, frustrated.


    I watch the arranged kindlings, feeling defeated and empty-minded. Could there be some kind of fire rune I can adapt from one of the ones in my body rune book? Worth a try.


    I browse through it. There isn¡ät a fire rune, but there is a heat rune component used in a variety of runes. It could work. As long as the paper I draw it on gets hot enough to catch fire. A waste of a good sheet of paper, but I¡äm growing desperate now. I think about the rune design. What do I need? A gathering component, connectors, and the transformer. I don¡ät care if it overloads. I want it to catch fire anyway. I take out one of my bottles of goat blood and start to draw.


    An instant after I put the final stroke to paper, it burst into flames. Violently scorching the back of my hand and my eyebrows. There are only ashes drifting in the breeze left before I can even think to get it close to the tinder. Maybe I do need a regulator.


    I start again, clenching my teeth. Another precious sheet of paper is going to be wasted. I put the final stroke down with trembling fingers, almost ruining it at the end. It starts to glow softly. The sheet starts to get dark near the transforming component. Smoke begins to rise. It¡äs working!


    I put it close to the tinder, hands still trembling. The smoke gives way to a flame. The rests of the rune go dark, but it did its job. I carefully shelter the flame from the breeze with my hands until the tinder catches fire. More flames roar up, scorching the kindling black. White smoke rises into the crowns of the trees.


    A gust blows the flame out. The tinder is burned to ashes. There is only smoking kindling remaining. I blow on it softly. I blow on it more forcefully, but the flames don¡ät reappear. There is no ember, only drenched wood. I kick over the kindling and start crying.


    Tears flow down my cheeks, hot and unbidden, carving streaks down my ice-cold face. I fall back onto my heels, staring at the useless pile of damp and rotten wood and scorched bark. Why? Why did everything go so wrong? Why in the seven hells did I think that jumping through an unknown portal was the best idea? Was there another way? Why won¡ät those bastards leave me in peace? Fucking Crow! He should have warned me that this stupid compass was dangerous to hold on to. I would have kept a tighter leash on Dante and Dogface. There was no need for this to happen.


    The ambient mana presses heavily on me. The sky is about to come down and bury me under its immensity. I feel so small and insignificant. They all abandoned me here, alone for myself. Nobody here cares about what happens to me. The trees tower, dark and indifferent to my struggles. The goats mock me every time our steps cross, waiting for me to fail. I sob and wail, letting the tears flow free until I¡äm wrung out and dry. I sob until there is nothing left.


    I look up, feeling somewhat relieved. Still alone, empty, but relieved. Because it can¡ät get any worse, can it?


    The mana is still pressing heavily on me. I feel something inside me press back. My core, laden to the brim, is about to overflow. Am I about to grade up? Why now? I can¡ät botch this. I need to focus. I sit down, leaning my back against a thick oak trunk. Breath. The mana inside me presses into the boundaries of my core. I press back, trying to get a firm grip. My mana vortex continues to suck in more and more mana from the air I breathe in. The pressure mounts, threatening to explode, but I hold it back, determined. The longer you can hold it in, the better your core evolution is going to be, or so they tell you. The pressure continues mounting with each breath, with each revolution of my vortex, with each cycle. I hold on with gritted teeth. Another revolution, everything else fades away. There is only myself left, myself and my pulsing core. The tide grows, and the dams are barely holding on. But they do. There is still room left for another wave and another. The waters buzz and hum. They rise and rise again, and I push them back with every ounce of willpower I have left. They fall back to rise again with renewed force, filling everything until there is no space left. Everything is full to the brim. The dam bends and groans, stretching and stretching, like a rubber band, still holding the tide back. It stretches until it seems impossible for it to stretch more, but it still does, burning hot. It remains still, leaving no space for the water to continue rising, leaving it no choice but to increase its density. The water falls back, qualitatively changed, and then it rises again, unstoppable this time. The walls stretch again to where they reached before and more. There is a snap, and they explode. Water¡­, mana rushes everywhere, flooding every cell of my body, washing out death cells, the toxins I accumulated during my childhood in the slums, inefficiencies, impurities. Until they finally flood back and condense into a new dam around my core. Stronger, and wider than ever.


    I am. I am more now. I can feel it in my bones, my revitalized muscles. There is no sting in my legs anymore. My skin is smooth and unblemished. I am stronger, faster, and more agile than ever before. My mana reserves must have at least been duplicated. I feel more connected to it. It¡äs more responsive than ever. I can let it flow in and out of my skin without it ceasing to be mine. A smile crosses my face. I am copper-grade now. I can start using body runes.


    A sudden stench assaults the increased sensitivity of my nose. Rotten eggs mingled with burnt metal and stagnant water, pungent and disgusting.


    I open my eyes and find my whole body covered in sticky black sludge, clinging to the inside of my shirt and pants.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    I stand up and stumble down the valley towards the rushing waters of the river.


    The sludge is stubborn. It wants to cling on, refusing to be washed away in the cold waters. But finally, after a lot of prodding and rubbing my skin until it is red, it gives away, leaving me relatively clean. At least the stench is bearable now. Getting my shirt and pants clean seems even harder. I let them soak and wring them out again and again. I bash them vigorously over the boulders until the seams are about to come apart, only to soak them again and repeat the process.


    After almost an hour, they are mostly clean but a shade darker than before. They still slightly smell of sewers, but I¡äm familiar with that from the slums. It will fade away with time. There is something else. A whiff of smoke. Smoke? Why does it smell of smoke? I look up and turn around. The wind turns. Another whiff of smoke reaches my nostrils. I may not be alone out here. It seems to come from upstream.


    There must be people up there. Maybe someone friendly. I need to check out.

 6-Give me some rice

    Faint voices drift through the branches, carried close by the playful rustle of the breeze. Low murmurs, drowned by the rushing river. Bursts of laughter. I still can¡ät see their owners, hidden from my view by the dense undergrowth. But I can see the smoke of their campfire. It whirls lazily through the forest, carrying with it the sweet, nutty, and briny notes of grilled fish. My hunger stirs. I catch myself taking a step closer without thinking.


    No, no, stop! I need to know if those people are after me or not.


    I try to pierce the ambient hush with my ears. To catch the fleeting words slipping through the shadows. But I can¡ät make sense of the snippets of conversation reaching me. I need to get closer.


    How can I get closer without revealing myself?


    I¡äm an idiot. I can use body runes now.


    I take out my bottle of goat blood and open it. A slightly rancid and cloying odor assaults my nostrils. I grimace. It is starting to spoil. It still buzzes faintly with mana, but it won¡ät last much longer. A week, maybe.


    I paint one of my new silence body runes on each of my ankles and wait for the smelly blood to dry on my skin. It feels inert, without mana. A simple tattoo in brown-red. This is not how I ever thought a rune should look. Only a faint shimmer reveals that there is some mana in those strokes.


    I inject some of my mana into the feeder, and the rune starts to shine. It glimmers softly with a barely perceptible inner light. Embers hiding underneath ashes or the tender radiance of the moon behind a veil of clouds. A light still feeble enough not to give me away, at least during the day or if I cover it up. That is more like it. But does it work?


    I step on a twig. It snaps into two pieces, but no sound reaches my ears.


    Laughter bubbles up inside me, abrupt and uncontainable. I slap my hand over my mouth to stem the noise down. The last thing I need is for those people to hear me now. Will they? How far does the effect reach? I kick a bunch of leaves up, no sound either. More laughter bubbles up. There is no need to repress it. I let it burst out, shaking and choking, in complete silence. The absurdity makes me spill wave after wave of more silent laughter. I can¡ät hear anything. Even the birds and the wind, the whole forest has grown quiet.


    Slowly, I calm down my excitement. Well, this may be a problem. I need to turn it down, or it will be useless. After all, I want to be able to hear myself. I throttle the stream of mana that I am feeding it down into a slow trickle, barely anything. I try to break more twigs. My steps are still soundless, but I can hear the chirps and rustles of the forest again. It is almost like there exists a sphere of silence around my feet, centered on the rune. There comes no sound out of it. No sound exists inside. Depending on the mana I feed it, the radius of the sphere only covers my feet and up to my thighs, or I can make it cover me entirely. But that leaves me unable to hear the outside anymore.


    A waft of mouthwatering smell of the grilled fish reminds me of my hunger. I sneak closer to the campfire, keeping to the shadows and the dense undergrowth.


    The dense smell hangs heavy in the air. I can catch wisps of other aromas, garlic, and citrus-like acidity. It reminds me of Sundays. Of temple priests, with their woven baskets, feeding the masses.


    ¡°You can say what you want, but it feels wrong to have to kill some girl.¡± I can see them now. A trout on a spit is slowly roasting over the smoldering embers. Two men are sitting on low stools nearby, warming their hands over the fire. Their clothes are strange, long, and flowing.


    ¡°You think I like it? I don¡ät, but what can we do? The young master has ordered it.¡± Wait, what are they talking about?


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°You know that if we get that compass, there can be no witness left to rat out that we have it. It could put our clan in peril.¡±


    They are talking about me, are they not? What is up with this stupid compass? Who even are these people? I¡äve never seen men with buns and long hair before.


    ¡°You think we have a chance to get it before the others? There are more factions arriving each day. It¡äs a race. The word has gotten out now.¡±


    ¡°How should I know?¡±


    A bowl of white steamed rice appears in the hand of one of the men conjured out of thin air. What was that? Does he have a spatial storage artifact? How rich are they?


    ¡°Eehw! Did you fart?¡± asks the man holding the bowl.


    ¡°What?¡± The other one looks at him, frowning. ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Never mind, I thought I smelt something, but it¡äs gone now.¡±


    I flinch. Shit! He smelt me, probably. Well, my clothes. They still stink of sewers from my breakthrough. I take a few steps back, deeper into the bushes. I can still see them, but their voices seem distant and muffled again.


    I should probably make myself scarce. Change valleys again and continue my way. They want to kill me.


    But the smell of cooked food is so enticing.


    I shake my head. I did nothing to them, and they want to kill me. Only because of something I have. They are just like common bandits. Even If they babble about not wanting to kill me, they do. I¡äve heard the same speech before from half of the guards in the city whenever they brutally beat up some street kid. ¡°I¡äm just following orders.¡± ¡°I¡äm just enforcing the law.¡± Things they say to convince others that they are not monsters. They think that they are better than the enforcers of some gang. Lies! They are just part of the biggest gangs there are. Whose leaders are strong enough not to need to hide, strong enough to dictate what they want the laws to be. To make the rest of us cower and obey.


    They have started to eat now. I watch them throwing half-eaten fish heads


    onto a mountain of vegetable peels and discarded snippets of some roots I can barely make out from this distance. I sigh longingly. My stomach growls, making itself known. Maybe I can wait until they continue. Search through what they leave behind.


    I feel like a scavenger waiting for scraps. A scrawny alley-cat, hiding behind the dumpster, stalking the merchants at the end of a market day.


    Can I rob them? Maybe, but it is tough to come up with a plan. There is nobody else to distract them while I cut the purse. They don¡ät even have a purse. There is no crowd to disappear into. There is only me and them.


    Can I get close without them seeing me? Risky, I stand out too much. Even when they sleep, they can keep watch in turn. They could have an alarm. Even if I could get close, the spatial artifact most likely is a ring. How can I get that off without them waking up?


    I would need to overwhelm them, to beat them up. I have to snort. Yeah, not likely. They have the advantage of numbers. The advantage of advancement, most likely. You need to be at least copper-grade to be able to use spatial artifacts due to needing to inject mana into them, that much I know. Are they copper-grade? Silver? They also have better equipment. I saw good-quality spears leaning against a tree trunk beside them. There are also scabbards of short swords hanging from their belts.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    They are the type of people I would never mess with if I could choose. But I can¡ät choose, can I? I need to do something now that I still have some strength left. I need to do something before I wither away.


    How can I stack the cards in my favor?


    I need to surprise them somehow. My best advantage is that I am aware of where they are, but they are not aware of me. I have runes. I can choose the terrain if they play along a bit. They were following the stream upwards. I can check out what is ahead in that direction.


    I slowly creep around the campsite in a wide circle, out of sight, trying to step on stones, to not leave tracks, to erase those I do.


    Can I neutralize them without killing them? Maybe. It seems even more risky. Why does it bother me? They are going to kill me if they catch me. Why shouldn¡ät I kill them?


    Maybe it bothers me because right now, I could still choose to walk instead. It¡äs not like I am driven into a corner.


    But I may get cornered someday if even more and more people appear in the area to hunt me. And then I won¡ät be in control.


    Maybe they have something in that spatial artifact that can help me escape, or at least something that I can use to disguise myself, apart from steaming rice.


    My mouth waters again just thinking about it.


    Something coils and curves, darting between the crevices and gaps at the border of the river. A serpent, going back into hiding because the sun isn¡ät shining anymore onto her boulder. I follow her with my eyes until I can¡ät make her out anymore. An idea is blooming in my mind.


    They will come past here tomorrow, won¡ät they?


    I crouch down, take out my bottle of goat blood, and paint a silence rune on the side of the boulder the serpent was sunning herself on.


    I watch my work critically. It is visible. I dig for some stones in the river and arrange them over the rune. Trying to make the watermarks coincide with the surroundings. Finally, I am satisfied. There is only a barely discernible glow filtering through the stone left. You don¡ät even see it if you don¡ät know what to search for.


    Satisfied with my trap, I continue. I need to prepare a few more.


    I¡äm back next to the campsite, perched up high among the sturdy branches of a chestnut tree, trying to ignore the smells.


    I wait. I wait for them to break up camp, but they are taking their time.


    Night falls, and they still haven¡ät moved on. Instead, they go to sleep. But not after first setting up a glowing circle around the camp. If I had any ideas of sneaking into their camp left, they are gone now.


    I press my back against the gnarled bark and massage some blood into my numb limbs. The leaves around me rustle faintly in the wind. Wrapped up in my enchanted cloak, I don¡ät feel the cold. But I still envy the crackling fire down there. The laughter, the companionship. I incline myself forward until I¡äm comfortable on a solid tree limb. I brace my arms around it and tie my wrists loosely together with a piece of sturdy string. The night gets darker. I try to relax by listening to the crickets. The warm flickering rays of the campfire dancing with the shadows lull me into sleep.


    They wake up in the morning without any hurry. I watch them eating breakfast jealously. Finally, they lift camp. As I thought they would.


    They go towards the river, as I thought they would.


    They go upstream, still entranced in their chatter, as I thought they would.


    I can see the serpents in the distance, warming themselves like I thought they would be.


    But now the two men are crossing over to the other side of the river to continue upstream, which makes them bypass all of the traps I set yesterday evening.


    ¡°Fuck.¡±


    I watch them, dumbfounded. They are still animatedly chattering away.


    The sun shines warm and bright, making the always-present birds flutter and chirp, happy and excited. I lean onto my staff, cursing under my breath.


    Did my plan fail? Not really. I can¡ät know. They just evaded it without even realizing it was there!


    I track back and scale the canyon I encounter until I reach the top. I skip between low olive-green bushes to get ahead of their position. I scale back down, way upriver of them. And now I¡äm setting up my traps again, this time on both sides of the river.


    The serpents hiss at me, but I keep them away with my staff whenever they come too close. Drawing runes with one hand frantically.


    I can already hear distant conversations coming closer. There is no time to hide the runes. Thankfully, in the bright midday sun, the whole river shimmers and reflects the light like thousands of mirrors painting ephemeral rainbows, and the runes don¡ät stick out in that light spectacle.


    I barely have time to hide under the dense, hanging branches of a willow before I see them coming around the corner. I activate my silence body runes.


    They stroll past. I hold my breath and tense in anticipation.


    The first man enters the effective zone of my trap. His unsteady strides take him close to the serpent, oblivious. The serpent also seems oblivious. But then the man steps onto her body, and she snaps around and bites down. The man jumps back. He tries to kick the serpent off of him frantically, waving wildly with his arms. He screams in silence, but there is still no sound, and his companion doesn¡ät hear him. He skips and jumps around, but the boulder he is on isn¡ät that big, and he steps into the water. The current catches him, yanking him down. He bashes his head violently against the stones and goes limp. The roaring river drags him down. He is slapped from boulder to boulder in a wild tumble.


    That went way better than I expected.


    Finally, his companion realizes what is happening. He runs after him screaming and poking with his spear, impaling the serpent against the ground.


    ¡°Take an antivenom,¡± he screams, but his friend can¡ät hear him with his head trapped underwater. He starts to run even faster. Slipping and stumbling between algae-covered boulders, trying to reach his friend before he is washed away. Yeah. I can¡ät let you reach him.


    I dart towards them, silence rune still activated. I hop and skip and balance myself over the boulders. Running towards them from their backs at top speed. The second man isn¡ät aware of my presence, still engrossed in trying to fish his unconscious or dead friend out. I¡äm about to reach him without him realizing it. I hold my staff high behind my back to accumulate momentum and swing out with all the force I can muster. The staff starts an arc towards the back of his head.


    My left foot impacts against a stone, kicking it into the air. It flies outside of my silence-sphere and clatters against a boulder. The man is turning. My staff is already whirling towards his head, but it catches him on the side of it. There is a sonorous crack, and the staff vibrates in my hands from the impact. But part of the force must have been cushioned by his movement. He wobbles drunkenly. Then he whirls around, and I see a metallic flash flying towards my face. I¡äm barely able to step back. His sword misses my throat by millimeters. A strand of my hair remains behind, cut off, floating softly to the ground. He looks at me, confused, still wobbly on his feet.


    ¡°It¡äs you, isn¡ät it?¡± he accuses me. ¡°It was you¡­ You will pay for what you did!¡±


    His sword starts to glow. What is this? Fuck! I jump back. He closes the distance and strikes out with his sword. The tip of my staff goes flying, leaving it a palm shorter. I didn¡ät even feel the impact. It just cut through like a razor. I take a step back, another, frantically balancing over the boulders. My beaten rubber soles prevent me from falling. He follows me, swaying from side to side, closing the distance again. He raises his sword, threatening to cut my head off this time. But then he slips on the slick, algae-covered stones, falls over, and crashes shoulder-first into a boulder, sending his sword flying. I stop retreating, snap out with my shortened staff, and smash it into the side of his head, again, again, and again. I scream and hit him again.


    I stop, panting. He isn¡ät moving anymore. A gasp escapes my lips. What have I done?


    My stomach gnaws in pain. I pat all over the body, searching for loot, but there is nothing apart from the sword.


    In a trance, I trudge towards the first man. He has a ring. I pull it off his swollen fingers and put it on. After injecting a bit of mana into it, it shrinks until it fits snugly. A maybe twelve cubic meter big space opens inside my mind, full of random stuff I don¡ät care about right now. I just care for the food. It is there, piled up in a corner. How do I get it out?


    I imagine one of those bowls of rice appearing in my hand. I feel a sucking sensation on my core. Then it appears. Warm and comforting. I take a handful out, shove it into my mouth, and moan. Nutty, sweet, and starchy, like the soft embrace of the caretakers of the orphanage I lived in before it was shut down.


    My mind drifts back to how I got this meal. To the dead bodies that float into the distance. Now the rice tastes bitter, and my appetite wanes.


    I sit down, still munching on the rice. My disgust at myself warring with my hunger.


    I watch the water flow, enthralled. I¡äm a killer now, a murderer. In the moment of truth, I valued my life over theirs, almost like a noble would do. Is it the arrogance that comes with strength?


    They had nothing personal against me. They were just following orders. They are all just following orders like soldiers.


    Soldiers kill, while mages and other nobles who give the orders just sit back in their fancy armchairs, sipping on some fancy imported liquor. Watching people die like it is a game. Sending people to kill and to die for some stupid treasure, some money, a piece of land. For them, none of us matter. We may as well be cattle.


    Will there come more after me? Should I run next time? I have supplies now. I should be happy, but everything seems hollow.


    Let us move on before someone else arrives. I store all my belongings in my new ring and start walking.


    I scale another wall. The canyon at my feet is like a serpent that slitters away into the ocean of leaves, into the shadows. I sit down at the mouth of another cave. Waiting for something. Listening for noises in the wind, waiting for movement. But there is nothing, so I turn around and collapse into the cave.

 7-Taking stock

    I sit in the dim morning light on an outcrop before my new cave. The weather has calmed down, but inside my mind, a storm cloud presses me down with the memories of my actions, refusing to lift. When I close my eyes, I see the faces of my victims, staring at me with clouded and static eyes, judging me. The dawning sun paints the horizon in red blood. My hands are tainted.


    I had no other option¡ªor did I? It is the law of the streets, of the jungle. You must be tough and resilient to survive, clever and fast, unscrupulous. Soft people become prey. We always aspired to become predators, to cease being scavengers. But now that I am, I only feel anger and regret. Each time I close my eyes, their faces twist the knife deeper.


    So, I keep them open.


    The first rays of the sun reveal dozens of columns of smoke tarnishing the sky in every direction I look.


    Fuck! I need to focus. Stop wallowing in self-pity.


    Why are there so many now? Well, maybe there always were, but I was unaware of it because of the rain.


    My pursuers seem unaware of all the hideouts high up in the canyon walls for now. Or maybe they know about them, but there are too many to check them all. Either way, I am a sitting duck. Hemmed in here. Somebody is going to see me when I try to break through. Shit! Those two men I murdered were talking about killing me as soon as they found me. Will the others do the same? I may not even be able to surrender.


    Breathe! Breathe and calm down.


    What options do I have?


    I have plenty of food, preserved in the spatial ring I got. There is no rush anymore.


    Do I need to break through right now?


    Not really.


    The mouth of my last cave is very narrow. I barely fit through. It should be easy to block it with a big enough stone and hide inside for a few weeks. Maybe by then, the danger will have passed. There even was a light-sphere rune in the utility section of my rune manual. I will not even have to languish away in the darkness.


    What else do I have? Let us go inside before someone sees me and take stock.


    Mountains of cooked rice and different stews. Check!


    More fruits and vegetables than I can eat in a year.


    The carcass of a deer, three goats, and some canid. All are still fresh. Their blood has not even started to coagulate. Nice! I can replenish my dwindling stocks of beggar¡¯s mana ink.


    What else?


    I see two spears and a dozen swords, some polished and shiny, others rusty and cracked. What did that guy need so many swords for? Did he collect them?


    Four skinning knives. Wonderful! I need one of those out here. But why did he have so many? Did those guys kill someone? Maybe I should not feel so regretful about them.


    A bunch of different robes, shoes, cloaks and headbands. One pair of shoes even fit me. I could dress up as a boy. They are searching for a girl, are they not? It could make it easier to slip through without being questioned. Thought for later.


    There is also the head of a woman, toothless and swollen blue. What in the seven hells? I will throw it out as soon as I can. It is not the first time I have seen a dead and beaten person. You can find some out in the streets each winter. But eww! Maybe I can bury her in some corner of the cave.


    There are also a few glass bottles full of cherry-sized pills. Those two men had money to throw around. But the pills are useless for me unless I can get someone to identify them. Everybody knows that you should not mess around with unknown alchemical concoctions. Well, some don¡ät, but they do not last long.


    Speaking of money, they had a few purses full of it. Coins with different mint marks I have never seen before. But gold is gold, and silver is silver. And there is a lot of it. There are even some platinum coins bundled together with tiny mana-laden crystals of uniform size. Currency I don¡ät know about.


    My hand catches a shoddy black pendant made of cloth and leather. Wait, I know these pendants. The Crow makes them. The street rats that fish for information in the market back in my home city use them. They are supposed to be enchanted to make you more inconspicuous. Well, maybe it was enchanted a long time ago. There isn¡ät any mana in it left. The runes are faded and smeared. But still. How did those guys get it? No street rat would ever part willingly with it. Which one of the young ones did they kill?


    Yeah, fuck those guys! I don¡ät even feel sorry for them anymore. But there is still a knot in my stomach left. Is it my fault that they killed some kid? If the heist went how it should have, nobody would know my description nor where to look for me. The Crow should have warned us better. The item he wants is way hotter than he made us believe. He acted like it was just another random operation when he told us the plan. Dogface and Dante should never have been there. Was he afraid I would cut him out if I knew the value of that compass? Well, I suppose it has value. What to do with it is another question.


    Well, for now, that is it. I need to get some light in here before I block the entrance.


    I take my rune-book pencil and mana-deer blood out. The rune takes form on the back of my right-hand stroke after stroke. It is so easy when you have quality tools and are just copying from a book. A child could do it. Why people find it hard, I will never understand. Maybe it is a lack of patience.


    The finished design is even pretty, full of circles and flowing lines. It reminds me of the tattoos with which the Bahadian desert tribes cover their bodies. Do they also use body runes?


    I channel a bit of mana into the rune. A soft glow reveals a curtain of columns and stalactites that hang from the ceiling like frozen daggers. The cave continues behind them, yawning deeper than I thought. The tunnel widens after a while until it opens into an ovoid chamber. There are even more stalactites here. Tiny droplets flow down their sides until they reach and cling to their sharp tips. They remain there, trembling for a timeless moment. The next drop shoves them into the emptiness, and they fall onto the washed stone floor with a soft, echoing splash. A bit further down, they coalesce into mirrorlike puddles carved into the rock. Some overflow into a small stream that disappears between two shimmering columns I can not pass through. A faint breeze blows through them. There must be another exit where the stream flows into the river. I increase the mana I channel into my light but do not make out much more. There is only a winding tunnel, too narrow for even a child.


    Well, this is great. It is a bit too humid for my taste, but that only means I don¡ät need to get outside to drink. Or maybe it is the mana-density in here that is suffocating. It feels even higher than outside. Let us get back to the relatively dry entrance and continue.


    I wonder how many different runes I can activate at the same time. Channeling as much mana as I can into the rune on the back of my hand makes the light sphere brighter. It is not as bright as daylight but too bright to look directly at it from close. Even so, the speed at which my core replenishes itself outpaces the mana I can channel into the rune.


    How many runes can I activate simultaneously without slowly draining my core? I have no idea. Let us find out.


    I channel the light-sphere rune and my seal-sound rune at the same time. My mana recovery still outpaces my consumption.


    I draw another light-sphere rune on my other hand and activate all three runes. The mana in my core starts dipping at a snail¡äs pace.


    So, I can continuously channel three runes at full power. Maybe a few more, depending on the complexity of the rune. The seal-sound rune consumes about half of what each light-sphere rune does. They seem way too fancy and complex for what they do. I should be able to trim them down a bit. Why have I not thought about it sooner? I don¡ät need a glowing orb. I only need light.


    I get out my sketchbook. Let us get rid of all those modifiers. Color, shape, limits and size. What for? Just the feeder, the connectors, and the transformer. As simple as it can get. Can I sketch another design for a not-body-rune? Create a lantern that I can attach to the ceiling. Sure. The design isn¡ät even that hard. Just replace the feeder with a gathering component and throw in a regulator. The last thing you want is for it to overload. The problem isn¡ät the design. The problem is that I have nowhere to draw the rune. The ceiling is way too muggy and uneven. It is not like I have a lot of material I could use. Maybe one of those swords. The problem is that the mana-rich blood I use instead of ink is awful for such a smooth surface. At least it stays on my skin way better than I would have thought. It is denser, stickier, and more viscous than normal blood. When you activate it for the first time at full power, the blood seems to burn itself into the epidermis. Drying up but leaving a mark behind that still works. Branded into the skin. Metal is too polished. It is hard to draw a straight line on it without leaving smudges halfway. Yeah, a bit too risky.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    I draw one of my simplified light runes on the palm of my hand and activate it. A beam of light erupts between my thumb and index finger, refracts on a shimmering pool, and impacts the far wall. Something screeches and flutters away. More bats. Small and harmless.


    A simplified light rune creates a beam. Why is it a beam? Strange. It seems to burst out of the point of the transformer component of the rune on the opposite side of the connectors. It is very bright at that point, hard to look at, too white. It punches through your eyes and overwhelms your mind with searing hot brilliance. Until you only see a blazing star. I feel a bit dizzy, even though I just glimpsed it for an instant before closing my eyes in reflex. Lingering afterimages pulse and swirl behind my eyelids. I breathe in slowly until the nausea passes. Yeah, I do need the light-sphere rune to read inside the cave. The simple light rune could be handy to blind someone in a fight. Assuming that I can get the orientation right and not blind myself first. With training, it may even be a versatile tool for fighting, signaling over a distance, or simple illumination. But I may need to redraw it to make it burst parallel to the orientation of my palm.


    The next step is testing how much more efficient the light rune is compared to the light-sphere rune.


    I point my palm away from my face and channel mana through both runes on that hand. For some reason, they seem dimmer than the last time I tried them. What is happening?


    I follow the flow of mana through my arm. A strong river that forks into two smaller streams after reaching my wrists, feeding both runes. I cancel the stream to my palm and send it all to the rune on the back of my hand. The light-sphere brightens. I also send mana through my other arm into the rune on the back of my other hand. Both spheres shine bright. I redirect the flow from my first hand to the rune on the palm. Now, my remaining sphere and my beam shine bright. Both consume the same. The beam is just more focused. Huh?


    I¡äm an idiot. It is not the limit of mana the runes can use that I have reached. It is the limit of what I can channel through each arm. Both runes don¡ät have regulators. You theoretically could channel a lot more mana through them. Well, as long as the connectors can handle it. But they are designed for way more throughput than I can subject them to.


    What does that mean for me?


    Well, a few things.


    First, if I can increase the speed with which I channel mana, the effect of both runes will grow stronger. That is something that supposedly comes with practice. Fun, more things to train.


    It also means that if I want to use different runes simultaneously at full strength, I need to inscribe them on independent body parts, far away from each other.


    Well, what else do I have? I take my rune book and browse through it. There are less than you would think there should be in a manual. It is unsurprising if you take into consideration that runes are expensive. Mages and artificers tend to be stingy with their knowledge. They are very reluctant to share it. Knowledge is power. Which runes do I have? What else can I make out of them?


    Let us start with the utility section. There is the light-sphere rune I already tested.


    There are two alarm runes: the thermal alarm ward and the mana alarm ward. The first one detects sudden changes in temperature on the perimeter of a circle around you and alerts you by sending a jolt into your body. The second one does the same thing. But instead of temperature, it detects changes in free ambient mana.


    They also introduce a type of specialized component that had not appeared before in the book called a sensor. There is a whole chapter about them. They work by detecting a change in the environment and emitting a signal when they do. Which change they are attuned to depends on the modifier.


    I don¡ät think I will use any of them for now, but I may need to study them in more detail later. I may need to trick similar alarm runes someday.


    There is also a rune called deflect rain that would have been useful these past days.


    A very fancy and complex rune called eternal spring. I would have called it a thermal regulation rune or something more precise. It is supposed to let your body always remain at a pleasant temperature, no matter what is happening outside.


    A very similar rune does the same thing but for humidity. The book calls it a dry breeze rune.


    The last utility rune is the real crown jewel that calms a lot of my lingering fears and anxiety. It is a healing rune called body restoration. The book claims that it can even regrow lost body parts as long as there is no damage to the soul. The downside is that the mana costs scale with the complexity of the wound and can get astronomically high for low-level mages. Whatever low-level mages are. I am sure I am considered one, but even so, better than nothing out here.


    In the defensive section, there are just two runes.


    The first one is called an immovable mountain rune. Another fancy name. It lets you absorb kinetic energy and transform it into heat and free mana that dissipates into the air. That should be useful in a fight, but I have no idea how well it would work against piercing or cutting attacks. The book doesn¡ät mention them. It could be nifty against boxers, maces, or clubs. The book also does not tell how much damage it can mitigate before it fails. I am going to have to experiment with it.


    The last rune is very similar, but instead of absorbing and dissipating kinetic energy, it absorbs and dissipates mana from incoming magic attacks. Or something like that. It specifically says: ¡°The deep calming pool rune strips the intent from incoming hostile mana and converts it into free mana that, instead of damaging the user, can be absorbed or released into the environment. Proceed with caution because even though it may be able to strip the mana out of incoming spells, destabilizing them. It does nothing about possible elemental effects that may come with them, which still can injure the user of the rune. Because of those reasons, it works well against neutral aspected spells, or, in conjunction with the immovable mountain rune, against mana-reinforced physical strikes, but poor against everything else.¡±


    Can someone please explain to me what intent is? No? Nobody there? The annoying book assumes that I went to a mage school or something. Frustrating. It seems to insinuate that the mana mages release and control while casting a spell is somehow different from the rest of the mana that flows around us. Why? You ask me, but who do I ask? It is the first time I heard about something like that. Well, I have heard speaking about self-attuned mana. Do they mean something like that? I thought that it just meant that it changed its composition.


    At least I still can use body runes. A few of them. I could use a lot more of them simultaneously if I upgrade the gathering spiral of my core to one of my new core-rank. But I don¡ät know how, I need a manual for that. Maybe I can find one on the black market if I manage to reach a city. I have a lot of money to spend. Copper-grade gathering spiral manuals should still be affordable. But that means breaking away from all those pursuers first. Who knows how long I will need for that?


    I could try tempering my body. That is what I know you are supposed to do at the copper-rank. From what I know, you need to suffuse every cell of your body with mana. It is a gradual process that starts with your skin, continues with your muscles, then your tendons, then bones and marrow, then organs, and finally the brain. You do that by pressing mana into them with every ounce of your willpower until they break down and are rebuilt stronger, or absorb it and grow stronger, or something similar. Depending on who you ask. The process is supposed to be very intuitive.


    I could try it. I have time right now. After focusing so long trying to decipher different runes, my thoughts are dancing wildly through my head. I need something calming. Why am I so stressed?


    I sit down in a cross-legged pose and try to relax. Thoughts race through my head like a thunderstorm. I observe them. My childhood, the orphanage, the street rats, the Crow, Dogface, Dante, my friends. Were they friends or just colleagues? Who cares? Let it flow. The castle drifts by, the forest, endless canyons, and more canyons float by until everything dissolves into a blur that fades away. Only I am left.


    I can feel the mana pulsing through my body with each rotation of the vortex in my mana-core. Responsive like never before. I forgot about advancing with all the stress these days. Focus. Tempering the skin comes first. Should I do it all at once or in stages? Let us try a small section first to see what happens. I concentrate on the skin that covers my left knee and start channeling mana into it without letting it back out, more and more with each pulsing cycle.


    The patch of skin starts getting warm. It tickles. The tickles ramp up in intensity. It vibrates. Ripples of pain sting through it with each pulse. Whippings of nettles. This should be okay. It is supposed to hurt a bit. It continues to ramp up. Is this normal? I feel like I am pressing my knee against a scalding forge and holding it there. There are only waves of pain left. The agony threatens to make me black out each time it crests. This can¡ät be normal. Stop this!


    I open my eyes. The crests ebb out without a hurry. But there is still some pain remaining. It is distant now, a dull roar buried under layers of shock. I look at my knee. A canvas of angry red and blistering yellow flesh greets me. I look at the grotesque, blistered patchwork of exposed muscle and charred fat, stunned into inaction.


    I must be missing something. I know a few copper-grade people back in the city. The locksmith who makes our lock picks and duplicates. Most of the temple priests. The herbalist. None of them spoke of something like this.


    I take my pencil and draw a body restoration rune on my thigh just above the wound. Gritting my teeth to ignore the pain. Well, I wanted to test this rune out anyway.


    I start channeling mana into the rune. It sucks it in greedily. But I can¡ät see much of an effect. Should I keep channeling for a while? How long will it take? An hour? Two? At least it is soothing the pain. There is only a dull throb remaining now.


    Let us get something to eat in the meantime. I am famished.

 8-Seal the light

    ¡°Aargh! Kill that devil spawn! Kill that fucking goat!¡±


    Somebody is out there. Lights out!


    ¡°This is ridiculous. You really believe that some unevolved brat could have come up here?¡±


    Water drips onto my forehead and trickles down my neck. I am just another stone, another stalagmite hidden in the darkness, in the silence, quiet and atemporal.


    ¡°I have over 15 strength and agility and nearly fell into the river five times now. Some unevolved brat can''t have come up here.¡± 15 what? Why would they measure their strength in numbers? Weird people.


    ¡°But we still need to check. You know that. The sooner someone finds that girl, the sooner we can get out of this hellish place.¡±


    ¡°There is another hole.¡±


    ¡°Well, check it out.¡±


    ¡°What do you think I am doing? It is way too narrow.¡± I can hear some rasping and scraping behind my stone plug. I hold still, fingers tensed around one of my new polished swords. ¡°Another dud. It is just about five feet deep.¡±


    ¡°Well, let us check the next one.¡±


    ¡°Fuck! I am stuck! Help me out!¡±


    There is more scraping, something tears. I store the sword in my spatial ring.


    ¡°You know what? This is bullshit!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. There are thousands of holes in these canyons.¡±


    More tearing.


    ¡°I¡äll bet fifty imperial silver those bastards send us on a wild goose chase while they follow the real trail.¡±


    ¡°Maybe someone found that girl already and is pretending he didn¡ät.¡±


    ¡°Exactly! Anyway, this makes no sense at all. We know where she is going. Right? We could all wait there.¡±


    They know what? How would they know where I am going? Are they tracking me somehow? Maybe through something I stole. No. If they were, they would have found me already. They must know where the compass leads and that I¡äm following it. But if they know that, what do they need the compass for? If it does lead to a treasure, maybe they know the general area where it is located but not the exact position. Should I forget about it and go in another direction? Maybe. But after all this drama, I would like to check it out at least. I can still scram if there is too much heat close there.


    ¡°Another goat, kill it!¡±


    Silence surrounds me for a few heartbeats.


    ¡°Did you get it?¡±


    ¡°No, it bolted again.¡±


    ¡°Devilsspawn!¡±


    A smile crosses my face. Those buggers pester everyone.


    I wait until the voices lose themselves in the distance before illuminating my new shelter again. I need more tools. Who knows when someone will force me to escape in a hurry again? I need something to tip the scales. But what? Well, I have light runes. Can I create an invisibility rune? I sit back in the dry corner where I slept these past days and take out my sketchbook. That would be a game-changer. Soundless and invisible. I could be a ghost.


    How should I go about it? If my seal-sound rune makes me inaudible. Would a simple seal-light rune work? Let us find out.


    I draw one on my left forearm with a similar design, just exchanging sound for light.


    I let a bit of mana trickle into it to see what happens. A snow-white sphere swallows my arm, reflecting the light from my opposite hand like a mirror. It is a mirror. You can see your face in it.


    I feel like an idiot. I should have expected that. If you prevent light from entering an area, it will reflect where it came from. That could be effective in a uniform snow-covered region but pointless everywhere else. But it is the opposite of what I need. Well, not the opposite entirely. A surface can reflect, absorb, or transmit light. Ideally, I would like for it to be transmitted straight through me. Absorbed could be of use at night. It would convert me into a dark blob easy to hide in the shadows, would It not?


    Astonishingly, I have rune-components for both. There is an absorption component in the immovable mountain rune. I would try it out if I did not have an even better component, part of the eternal spring rune. It is called a forced-unidirectional transmission component. That can be dismantled into the transmission component. It is part of the eternal spring rune because that rune needs to drain heat out of your body without letting the heat in when it is hot outside.


    So, what happens if I create a simple transmit-light rune? It could consist of a feeder, connectors, the transmit transformer, and the light modifier. Very simple.


    It works! I can not see my arm anymore. I only see the cave wall behind me. There is a concave section missing in the white chalk growths. I can see the fine-grained, rusty-red rock hidden behind. If I move my arm closer, there seems to be a whole section, a hemisphere in the wall missing. The rune must create an effect in a sphere-like space. Like what my simple seal-derivated runes do. Why? The eternal spring rune doesn¡ät do that. How does it limit its effect to just the surface of the body?


    I found it. It must be the isolate-shape-solid-body component that is supposed to: ¡°When applied to the surface of an object and delimitated by the corresponding limit runes or rune-components, creates a separate region in a frame or body of matter to which other rune-effects can be applied.¡±


    If I understand it correctly, it lets the rune differentiate between what is my body and what is not. And where I want the effect to apply.


    Next try: Feeder, connectors, isolate-shape-solid-body, modified by transmit-light.


    I activate it. The cave around me fades and then plunges into darkness. An unseen hand smothers the light into the penumbra of a starless night. Leaving behind a suffocating veil of emptiness, pressing against my eyes, unrelenting and complete. Colors, shapes, every flicker of light is gone. I grasp the slick, looming stalactites, disoriented. The water drips louder than ever before, echoing in the darkness. I channel more mana into my light rune. I can feel it swallowing mana like a drain. But there is still nothing to see. I am blind.


    The ground feels unsteady beneath me, uneven, treacherous. I stumble and smash my shoulder against something hard and solid. The world around me reappears. Well, at least I can see the hazy outline of a column before me in the gloomy darkness. Only illuminated by the faint light that filters around the plug I used to cover the entrance. I stopped channeling my runes. Now my light-sphere runes work again. I blink and look around me. What happened?


    I think I know the problem. A transparent body makes my eyes unable to absorb the light they receive, leaving me blind.


    Invisibility is awesome, but not if it leaves me blind.


    How do I solve this? I need to exclude my eyes from the effect.


    I need to create a limit around my eyes to cancel the effect. Fortunately, the chapter about the isolate-shape rune explains a bit about different limit components and runes and how they interact.


    The eternal spring rune and my invisibility rune use the distinction between a connected solid body or mass ¡ªthe human body¡ª and the gaseous, liquid, or unconnected solid of the outside. How do I add a specific additional limit to those runes? To make them do what I want, only where I want. I have no idea. It may be easier to create an additional rune around my eyes with the components I have. A rune that lets me exclude the effect of all other runes that apply to the body. The manual explains what happens when the limits of different runes enter into conflict with each other. For example, it says that the limits of the light-sphere rune cancel the effect of the eternal spring rune around the hand when they are used together. So, I only need a rune that does nothing apart from creating a limit to other runes around my eyes. A pair of simple sphere runes that generate disconnected spheres centered in my eyes. Not that hard to do. The light-sphere rune uses the circumference of a circle as a reference to project a cantaloupe-sized sphere centered in the midpoint of the circle. I do not need to project a big sphere. But, using the same principle, rearranging the rest of the components, and adjusting the size, I can create a circumference around each of my eyes that delimits a smaller sphere centered around my pupil.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    I carefully apply the mana-blood around my eyes, using the seal-light rune I created earlier as a mirror.


    It works! I am invisible, and I still can see. Well, I can see straight ahead. It feels like I am watching through two small copper coin-sized holes. There is nothing when I turn my eyes. I must have made some errors when adjusting the size of my sphere runes. It may be even better like this. Two floating irises are less visible than two floating eyeballs. In the reflection of my improvised mirror, they resemble two scintillating insects.


    Why does my seal-light rune even work when I am invisible? Does it create another limit? No, probably not. Why should it not work? It generates a sphere that intercepts and reflects the light before it can reach my transparent body. That means I need to be careful and test everything out. So I don¡ät accidentally activate runes that may give me away while invisible.


    How much mana does invisibility cost me?


    Alone, it doesn¡ät drain my core. Together with my silence rune, it drains it very slowly. When limiting the silence sphere to just around my feet, it doesn¡ät drain it at all. Still a bit high. I can use both effects continuously here only because of the high mana density in the air. Back in my city, I would probably have to stop and recover mana after a few minutes. Awesome, nevertheless.


    There still is a problem, though. I may be invisible, but my clothes are not. How do I solve that?


    Can I try to use the project component from the sphere rune to modify the isolate-shape-solid-body component of the invisibility rune? The goal would be to project the start of the invisibility effect to a few centimeters outside of my body.


    I draw another modified invisibility rune to try it out.


    For some reason, it can not activate it.


    What if I change the order?


    Still nothing. It consumes mana, but I can¡ät see any effect.


    I rub my forehead, frustrated.


    If I do not know how to modify my working invisibility body rune to include my clothes, maybe I can create a version of the rune to inscribe on my clothes and make them invisible. It should not be that hard. Let us start with my new boots. I need to exchange the feeder with a gatherer and include a regulator so the rune does not overload. And it can not lack a switch. Do not forget the switch. You need to be able to toggle the effect on and off. The last thing I want is to lose my boots somewhere and become unable to find them because I made them invisible.


    Well, this does work. Rune-inscribed boots, success. Next!


    Rune-inscribed enchanted mage-cloak. That is a challenge. First, I need to stretch the fabric out somehow. I need an even surface or something to tense in between. I take two dull swords out of my spatial ring and drive them halfway into the soft clay that makes up one part of the wall. That should suffice as an improvised table. Now comes the hard part. Drawing on the fabric without dragging it behind my pencilstrokes. All while applying a consistent amount of blood. You want it to soak evenly into the tissue. I am lucky that the fabric has a very high thread count, which makes it silky and smooth. I wish away the sweat from my face with my forearm. One last stroke and I am finished.


    Now, toggle the switch on and let it gather some mana.


    It works! I am an artist!


    I hope I never forget where on the cloak I inscribed the rune, or I will never be able to switch the invisibility off again. I found it.


    What about the rest of my clothes, though? The threads they are woven from are thick and a bit scratchy, which makes the fabric coarse and uneven. If the cloak was hard, it is impossible to inscribe that. Do I need to run naked under my cloak when I want to be invisible? Well, it is not like anybody will be able to see me. But that seems cold. And, if I need to scale a wall while unseen, I will not have any protection against scratches. Maybe there is something between the clothes inside the ring that I can use.


    I found something: a silken robe, a leather belt, and silken panties. Why did they have underwear typically worn by women? Whatever, I can use this.


    I completed the last item!


    Hey Kivi, why are you naked? Liar! I am not. I have invisible panties.


    These could be a hit if sold in some red-lantern district.


    Focus on the present. What else could be helpful?


    Can I use the immovable mountain rune as a shock absorber when falling from high up? It has potential. I paint a couple of them, one on each of my feet. There were a few big boulders in the big chamber, which I could climb and use to jump down.


    It works, more or less. I did not feel the impact in my legs after jumping from a bit less than three meters high to the ground. I just felt a faint tremor in my spine. That could be potentially dangerous. Maybe I should activate the runes sooner and feed them more mana. Let us try again.


    I climb onto an even higher boulder. There must be more than four meters to the ground. I watch down into the emptiness beneath me, illuminated only by the soft glow of my light-sphere. My stomach tightens. It seems way further down from up here. My feet are glued to the rock, rooted in place. Just jump! If you keep waiting, you will never do it. I let myself fall forward and flare both runes with all the mana I can.


    For a breathless moment, there is only a void beneath me. The air rushes past, biting my skin and tugging at my clothes. Gravity claims me with an unforgiving grip, pulling me down in a rush to meet the rising tide of the floor. For a fleeting moment, I feel weightless, awaiting the impact. I feel alive like never before. And then¡ªcontact. A burst of adrenaline. My knees bend instinctively to absorb the shock. But they didn¡ät need to. There was no shock. Well, nearly no shock. It felt almost like jumping into the water. But there is no water. There is only my disoriented self, a fish on dry land. I let my heart calm while the world steadies beneath my feet again. The rush leaves me reeling and grinning. That was fun.


    Again, I need to train this until it becomes instinctive. Who am I kidding? I want to enjoy myself like a kid.


    Okay, the immovable mountain rune is a hit as a shock absorber. What else could be practical?


    I think I won¡ät use the eternal spring rune. With all those sensors, conditional switches, and different modifiers, it is the most complex rune in the book. It must be a mana-sink. And my cloak already does the same thing. Maybe I could create a simple seal-heat rune, though. That could let me trick possible temperature-based wards. Do I need a seal-mana rune too? Probably not. I don¡ät think mana-based wards will work in this mana-dense environment anyway.


    I sit on the ledge before my cave, munching on dried mango. The moons rise over the horizon, bathing the canyons in a phantasmagorical twilight. The sky is a sea full of stars. The forest, a sea full of flickering campfires. Crickets chirp loudly through the night. It feels like they are scolding the intruders. I munch on another mango, letting the soft breeze caress my naked arms.


    I have finished my new and improved loadout. It looks like this:


    On each of my feet, I have a shock absorber (immovable mountain) rune.


    On my ancles, silence runes.


    On my left thigh, a body restoration rune. I may draw it elsewhere instead of renewing it in the same place once the ink fades.


    On my belly, the invisibility rune.


    Above my chest, a seal-heat rune.


    On the back of both of my hands, light-sphere runes.


    On the palm of my hands, light-beam runes.


    On the back of my forearms, another pair of shock absorber runes. To be able to block or parry a strike without hurting myself. Or to mitigate the impact if I fall while I am in an awkward position.


    On the front of my right forearm, a simple transmit-light rune. My first sphere variant, not the invisibility rune. I think it will come in handy. I could use it to see through walls or solid objects before entering a place or opening something. Let us call it a scan rune. I may exchange one of my light-sphere runes for it later. Once they start fading. I don¡ät need two of those.


    Around my eyes, two simple sphere runes. They don¡ät do anything apart from letting me see while invisible. Maybe I can add some additional effect later, like farsight. I hope to find the right components for it someday.


    And that is it for now. Well, there still are a few bits and pieces elsewhere. Impractical runes and leftovers from my experiments that I will just let fade. Now, I only need to practice until using all those runes becomes instinctive. I will practice until I can activate them under stress without confusing one for another.


    The only thing still missing in my kit that I would like to have is a rune to mask or suppress smell. Until then, I need to be careful around the groups that have brought dogs, even though I haven¡ät heard any barking in days. For now, I could start by washing the sweat out of my clothes in those clear water ponds back in the cave. Maybe I could get a mud bath. That should help.


    I bite into another slice of mango. The leathery tanginess dissolves into a honeylike sweetness that dances over my tongue. It floods my tastebuds with hints of citrus and peaches. It whispers of ripe fruits, of warm summer nights. A goat bleats somewhere in the darkness. The crickets stop singing for an instant. Then they chirp even louder. My eyes wander over the distant campfires. So many pursuers are searching for me. They are throwing so much wealth into the wind to try to catch me. No. Not pursuers, targets.


    I grin.


    I only need to train for a few days, sheltered and hidden in my cave. After that, it will be time to create some chaos.

 9-The hunters and the ghost

    Fifteen men are sitting around a campfire. Their laughter thunders through the shadows of the night. They whine like horses. No, those are real horses. They must have hidden them further down by the river.


    The scent of roasting meat curls and weaves through the underbrush, a symphony of sizzling fat dripping over the embers, of charred crusts kissed by the fire. My mouth waters. The clingy sweetness in the air teases me with memories of the constant company of the hunger I suffered from these past weeks. But I am not that hungry anymore, am I? I spit my spatial ring out and catch it with my hand. I have to store it under my tongue because I forgot to try to inscribe an invisibility rune on it. Not that it would have been possible. The ring is too small to inscribe something complex with my current toolset. I tried to store it inside my boots, but it remains visible there. When I store it inside my mouth, it goes invisible, though. I have no idea why.


    I take a few dried figs out of storage and start munching on them, hidden beneath an oak.


    Another group without dogs. The third one in this night. Well, dogs may be useless at this point for most of them anyway. There are too many trails. And, if they were not part of my original pursuers, they can not even know which of all those is mine.


    What are they talking about? I trigger my invisibility to go closer. Maybe I can learn some new crucial information.


    ¡°Man! You know that barmaid in that inn down in Fishcreek touown?¡± slurs someone. Waving a bottle of something sharp and pungent like a conductor¡äs baton.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°What barmaid?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± the bottle describes a wide arc. Splashes of liquid spill over the embers. The flames burst higher, igniting the roast. ¡°Man, she has a fat ass!¡± Well, maybe there is no crucial information to gain here. ¡°And when she wiggles those cheeks, man.¡± He brings his hands closer, like wanting to measure something, forgetting about the bottle again. A veritable stream of alcohol makes the fire explode. Nobody cares. Laughter erupts around the circle, loud and uneven. ¡°I am telling you, you don¡ät last long.¡±


    Yeah, I don¡ät care. Where do these people store their food? I hope not in spatial rings again, like the last groups I stalked. Why does everybody seem to have spatial rings out here? I thought those two I fought with were special, but no. Spatial rings are everywhere these days. Or are they not? What else would these men need all those big saddlebags for?


    ¡°There is no way you did her, James!¡± Someone seems offended. He leans his red face over the flickering flames. Beady eyes sparkle. ¡°You¡äre full of it! Women like that want a real man!¡± he declares, jabbing his finger into the smoky air. ¡°You are just talk, no action.¡±


    Where would they store the food while they camp? Maybe in that big tent over there.


    ¡°Sure I did,¡± replies the first man, irritated. I weave between drunken bodies, unaware of my presence. ¡°I¡äm telling you I did. And you know those tits, man? Big like a cow.¡± Yeah, whatever. Who cares? And who is that idiotic to leave their tent open?


    ¡°No, you didn¡ät!¡± shouts the second man. They all roar at that.


    I look behind my back. The fire catches the glint of teeth and the gleam of half-lidded eyes. Nobody looks my way. I push the cover aside and slip inside the tent. Leaving the banter behind, dissolving into the smoke.


    Yes! Storage! I channel a trickle of mana into my light-sphere rune. A soft glow illuminates stacks of sacks and barrels, too soft to shine through the tent¡äs fabric. What do we have here? I pry one of the barrels open with a dagger and look inside.


    A thick and pungent smell hits my nostrils, slowly dissolving into a sizzling sourness. Pickled cabbages? They may not be my favorite food, but who cares? Into my ring with them. What else?


    Sacks of rice and oats disappear into my ring. Tubers and onions, there is still a lot of space to fill if I pack it tight. Sausages and jerky, inside with them. It is easier to move around in the tent now. Salt and spices? You can never have enough of that. What is in those clay pots? I open one and dip my finger into a dark molasse. Hmm! It¡äs forest-honey. I can taste the pine resin and the oak in it. I won¡ät say no to that. The tent is starting to feel empty now. What is left? A tin box full of tea leaves. Bottles of some sharp and fruity booze. Now, there is nothing left in here.


    I slip outside into the roaring laughter. Let us see if you will still be laughing tomorrow. We will see how long you can follow me without food to eat. It is time to go to the next group.


    At the next campfire, an older man teaches a young woman how to dress her kill. I sneak closer.


    ¡°No, not like that, or you will tear the hide. Peel it back, slow and steady. You need to glide the knife through the fat.¡±


    ¡°What fat? There is no fat!¡± The woman scrunches her nose.


    ¡°The thin fat layer between meat and skin.¡± Is that the Panther I encountered a few weeks past that they are dressing? I hope not, poor kittens. It can¡ät be the same. We are too far away from there. ¡°No, not like that! Look where you are cutting!¡±


    ¡°Why don¡ät you do it yourself?¡± The woman stands up, face red, fuming mad. The dressing knife disappears into thin air. Another group that has spatial rings. She turns around, stomping hard onto the twigs that cover the ground, and walks away toward the nearest river.


    ¡°Leia, be careful! You are going to trip the wards.¡±


    A high-pitched noise chimes through the clearing. They do have a ward. Where is it centered? The flap of a tent flies open, and a young man stumbles out, falling into a heap of limps.


    ¡°Where are the attackers?¡±


    ¡°What attackers? There are no attackers. There are only flies, vermin, and dirt out here!¡± Dry leaves crunch and rustle under the furious steps of the woman. ¡°Come, Sir Charles. Let¡äs take a walk. Let the servants do what they are good for.¡±


    The young man jumps to his feet, straps a sword to his belt, and follows the woman into the shadows. Their voices slowly drown between the dense branches.


    ¡°The youth of today,¡± mumbles the old man. He sighs before kneeling and starts dressing the big cat with smooth and precise strokes.


    Why are there real nobles out here? I need to be a bit careful. Invisibility may not always be enough. Some advanced mages are known to have unlocked additional senses. Mana-sight is the most famous. Those who have it don¡ät just feel mana; they see it with different degrees of clarity. Some are born with the ability, like me. Though, in my case, it is very faint. Others learn to nurture and enhance their inborn traits and gain a lot of sensibility. You need to know special techniques to improve, but nobody has taught me any. In any case, it won¡ät work well out here. Everything is drowned under the immense mana density of the region. My eyes fall onto a rune-inscribed metal cube, forgotten on the ground a few feet behind the man. That must be the ward-stone. I want it. I channel mana into my silence and seal-heat runes. Enhanced hearing and thermal vision are other relatively famous sense-enhancements. My steps take me closer at a snail¡äs pace. The earth is trampled flat here. I don¡ät even leave any footprints. The man suddenly bends down. I stop, holding my breath in reflex, tense and ready to bolt. But he just turns the carcass around and continues cutting.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I can touch the cube now.  I put my left index finger into my mouth and maneuver the ring onto it without taking it out. The cube disappears into my storage space.  I need to learn to do this without having to put the ring on. I know it is possible. It just needs a mental shift. But I seem unable to demolish the mental block for now.


    I retrace my steps carefully and disappear into the maze of thorns and branches. I am forced to advance slowly. The leaves and branches prevent the moonlight from reaching the ground. Only shadows and adventurous rays of pale light trickle through. An owl hoots softly. The song grows in intensity and disappears again. It must be up there, gliding in obscurity with silent wings. I feel connected to it, a companionship. We are both predators of the night.


    I sit behind a bend in the river to examine the ward cube. Letting my channeled rune rest to recover my mana. My light-sphere reveals a rune component I know, a heat modifier. It is a thermal ward, as I suspected. That makes sense.


    I should try to see if my seal-heat rune can trick it. How do I turn it on? Do I have to press this big button on the top? I try it out. The cube emits a soft chime and starts glowing.


    First, I need to test the distance at which the ward triggers. I take one step, another step, another step. About twelve steps later, I hear a pitched chime, distorted and barely audible above the roaring current.


    I get back to the riverbank. The cube has turned dark. I turn it on again.


    I go back into the distance and start to channel my seal-heat rune before the tenth step. I take another step, another. Nothing. Eighteen steps, nineteen. Okay, that is enough. It is time to go back.


    The cube is still glowing. I smile. It works. The only problem with the rune is that it gets hot inside after a while because your corporal heat builds up and can not escape anywhere. I sit down and keep channeling mana into the rune.


    About half a bell later, I feel sweaty and uncomfortable, like sitting in a sauna. It would probably take less time if I engage in strenuous physical activity. I undress to wash the sweat off in the river. I should have been a bit more careful about that. I don¡ät have time to wash my clothes. I haven¡ät seen any dogs tonight, though. Maybe it won¡ät be a problem.


    I should probably use both the seal-heat and the silence runes together with invisibility from now on when I sneak into another camp. There is no need to tempt fate. Are there sound-based wards? I don¡ät know. I do know that I don¡ät want to find out by accident.


    Let us find another group of victims.


    There are two men standing watch by the next campfire in silence. Their backs point towards the flame, and their heads face the darkness on opposing sides. Probably the most serious and professional group I have seen so far. But what does it matter when I am invisible? I grin and circle the tents, ignoring those where I can hear snores come from. There is another campfire a bit further down on the other side. Two more guards are tending to a group of bound horses.


    Horses have a keen sense of smell. But I don¡ät need to get close to them. And my smell is not strange coming from the camp. I am just another human among a bunch of humans.


    So, where do they guard their food?


    I found it. This time, I cut the tent open with a knife on the opposite side of the watchmen, out of their sight. The guards are too alert to try other ways. I store everything in haste, without inspecting it much, and make my way back into the forest. I think I got more of the same, but instead of meat, nuts, and dried fish.


    It fits all together inside my ring like a puzzle. There is still a lot of space left. Next!


    ¡°¡­ those damned foreigners traipsing through our woods. If they didn¡ät travel in such big groups, I would just put an arrow through their backsides.¡± A man spits into the dirt next to the dying flickers of a tiny campfire. He looks up, caressing his longbow like a lover.


    His companion grunts, poking the embers with a stick, face worn and cracked from a live outside under the harsh sun.


    ¡°What are they even looking for? There are no beasts to hunt left. Only a few goats. What they haven¡ät killed yet has run away.¡± He tosses the stick into the fire. Sparks dance upward, vanishing between the dense crowns.


    Could these men be local hunters? It is the first time I have encountered those. Is there a village nearby?


    ¡°The fuckers don¡ät even make use of half of what they kill. The whole forest is full of half-rotten carcasses.¡±


    ¡°Men with no honor,¡± replies the second man, his tone flat but bitter. ¡°They don¡¯t hunt; they steal. No respect for the chase, for the land. Like it is just a dumb game for them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    The fire crackles in the silence that hangs between them. The weight of their shared frustration seems to hang heavy in the air. I change my position because my leg is falling asleep.


    ¡°Where did they even come from?¡±


    The first man leans back before responding, his hand falling into his lap.


    ¡°I don¡ät know, but they are everywhere. From here to Minas Kalin. We might have to go north to find something worthwhile. But you know what is up there.¡±


    Minas Kalin. What is that? A town, a city? Could it be where my compass is pointing?


    ¡°Yeah.¡± The second man looks around like he is about to tell a secret that you don¡ät want your neighbors to overhear. ¡°You think they are rebels?¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡±  The first man looks at him and pokes another stick into the fire. ¡°There is a legion of the Imperial guard stationed at Deepwater. They would have come up and smashed them all if they were.¡±


    Imperial what? Where the hell am I? As far as I know, there does not exist an empire close to the Solarian kingdom.


    ¡°What is a legion doing down there? I heard there were skirmishes again in the eastern provinces.¡±


    ¡°Who knows? People talk, taxmen talk, and nobles talk, but half of what they say are lies and hearsay.¡±


    ¡°But they always take our young ones to the front, don¡ät they?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    What front? Is there a war? Whatever. I am not going to steal from these poor sods. I feel a bit bad about them. It feels like their problems are, in part, my fault. Let us find another campfire.


    ¡°Hey, what is that?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That sack, where did it come from?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Are those chickpeas?¡±


    The next campfire is a bit further away. I can¡ät see anybody around it. Solitary flames roar high into the night sky. Is this a trap? I can hear snores coming out of three different tents. Can they be so careless? They have another ward-stone, turned on, yes. But it isn¡ät aware that I am wandering right up to it, hidden behind my runes that I am. How do I turn it off? I don¡ät know. I¡äm just going to store it. Problem solved.


    ¡°Damn, pigfuckers!¡± I swirl around. Someone is swearing, hidden behind the bushes. What is he doing there? Is he taking a shit? I realize that one of the tents is empty. Well, I could use a tent. Store it, and scram.


    Next!


    I wander towards the last camp on this side of the river.


    Sharp barks slice through the darkness like jagged blades. I freeze, clenching my fist. I might have messed up. More barks echo closer this time, startling the crickets into silence and sending a shiver through the leaves of the trees. My eyes dart through the dark undergrowth, searching for the fastest escape route to the river.


    ¡°Do you see something?¡± asks someone a dozen meters away.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Must be some night-hunting beast.¡±


    I bolt over leaves and stones, twigs and hidden roots. Invisible and soundless that I am, I only care about speed.


    ¡°Get a grip on the dogs!¡± orders the first voice, more distant this time. ¡°We can¡ät afford to lose another one.¡±


    But the dogs are still at my heels. Their barks and yaps sound frenzied and guttural. I run even faster, not caring about the branches ripping at my clothes. I only care about crossing the river and climbing back up the canyon.


    The barking rises to a fevered pitch, punctuated by the snapping of branches and a frantic rustle of undergrowth. Then, a shrill whistle pierces the night.


    The dogs fall back, but I don¡ät stop until I reach the river. That was close! My heart still races like a mad horse.


    The rushing waters cast everything else into silence. A deafening, heavy silence, as if the night itself is holding its breath. I splash a bit of water into my steaming face. Calm down, it is over.


    I wade downriver, keeping my feet inside the stream to erase my scent trail. Then, I cross and carefully climb back up to my hidden sanctuary.


    Enough for tonight.

 10-Mayhem

    I wake up to shattering booms that echo up the valley, rolling like war drums. Thunderlike cracks rattle the cave walls. A force that commands attention and makes the stalactites vibrate in resonance. Is the storm back?


    I crawl outside. A cyan-blue sky welcomes me. I blink, disoriented. There aren¡¯t any clouds wherever you look at. But lightning bolts cross the forest from left to right, under the trees. Are those men tossing them around? Yes, they are, and flames, and dust, and whatnot. The thunder cracks again, splitting the sky apart, a jagged tear of sound that shakes my bones. Dogs bark somewhere in frenzied yammers. The forest is a firework, a frenzied party of flickering lights, trees aflame, and screeching birds.


    Did they go completely crazy? The situation between all those groups must have been way tenser than I realized. My nightly antics were the straw that broke the camel¡¯s back. This may be the best opportunity I will get. I can slip through without worrying about those annoying dogs sniffing me out. But which direction should I go? There are fights everywhere. Should I still follow the compass?


    You know what? Forget about the compass. Following the direction it points at has not been working. I¡¯ll go downriver. Sooner or later, there must be a settlement somewhere. And maybe there I can hitch a ride in a caravan or something to Minas Kalin, that place those hunters spoke about. Whatever it is, town or city, merchants travel everywhere.


    I climb down and start running, clad in invisibility. I jump and run. I wade and swim, following the curse of the water. There are groups of men everywhere, swords clashing. Metal clangs against metal, against stones and bones, searching the melody of chaos. Flames crackle behind my back and to the sides, out of control, igniting more and more trees. Arrows swirl everywhere through the bushes. Some mages deflect them with crackling translucent shields. Others aren¡¯t that lucky. They fill me with envy. I should have tried to design a kinetic shield. Focus! Right now is not the time.


    Men cry in agony. Two knights are fighting each other at magic-enhanced speeds. One carries a spear, the other sword and shield. They move so fast that my eyes can barely follow them. They are just blurs that crash through branches and bushes, leaving only destruction behind. A high-grade mage is conjuring sand whirlwinds and hurling them at other people.


    The flames crackle hungry and relentlessly devouring trees in a roaring inferno. The heat makes the air shimmer. Trees and branches fall, claimed by the fire, igniting even more trees. The acrid scent of smoke is burning my throat. I run faster, not caring about noise, footprints, or possible traces I may leave. Nothing will be left when I¡¯m gone if they continue like that.


    Charred and blood-covered bodies float down the river, forgotten by their companions and enemies. Nobody has time to care about them until the fight calms down. That won¡¯t be soon. Some people try to flee. Others are just arriving, swarming in, weapons ready, attracted by the noise and lights like moths. When they encounter each other, new skirmishes erupt in the confusion.


    Horses stampede by my side, eyes wide open, pupils dilated. Embers rain down on us like fireflies, whipping them into a frenzy, into terrified whines. When they fall on me, they catch in my flowing hair or scorch my invisible skin, stinging like angry hornets. I pull my cloak over my head and continue running.


    The heat presses against my back, pushing me forward. I can feel my heartbeat drumming against my ribs. The river is a tunnel now, between roaring walls of flame. A branch falls and snags my ankle, sending me sprawling into the water. Embers fade to black with sharp hisses as soon as they touch the water. The current is a bit calmer here. The river widens. I let it carry me out of the valley. I drift, trying to catch my breath.


    The river is catching speed again. I hear an earsplitting roar up ahead. Cold water surges around me, dragging me closer to an abyss. The river and forest ahead disappear into the empty sky. I try to hold on to something, anything, but the force sends me tumbling. The waterfall grows deafening, a thunderous drumbeat of doom, yanking me closer. Ashes fall around me like drifting snow. Water washes over my head. I dive deep down, trying to reach the bottom, where the current isn¡¯t so intense. I start stroking harder with my arms, trying to get closer to the riverbank. Finding your way is hard down in the darkness, under the murky waters. Lonely rays of light rip through the blanket of ashes. I found something. My fingers grasp desperately at a slick rock. I slip and slide through ashes, algae, and roots until my robe gets caught up on something. It stops me in place. My body jerks violently as the current tries to rip me away. I roll over, ignoring my burning muscles, trying to get a better hold.


    I gasp, choking on a mouthful of icy water. My hands find a jagged root, a handhold if I can unknot my hooked robe. I pull myself out of the river onto a ledge between flames and water. I crawl under the soaked, steaming branches of a willow, my pulse still hammering into my ears. Finally, I collapse onto a small sand beach, just a few paces before the edge, a pond of calmness between the roaring waters and the fiery storm. Ash falls around me. I lie on my back and ignore it.


    I wander along the riverbank towards the edge and look down. The water flows over boulders and stony ledges until falling straight into a circular lagoon half-hidden under the mist. Maybe 30 meters down. The crowns of the trees down there barely loom over the edge. The fire hasn¡¯t reached them yet, and it probably won¡¯t. The wind is blowing in the opposite direction. That means it squeezes and streams into the trees up here like escaping out of bellows. It feeds the fire, igniting every spark.


    Can I jump down there? Maybe yes. I could run up to the edge to jump far enough over it. My shock absorber runes could let me survive the fall. Do I want to try it? Not really. Everything is slippery close to the edge. I risk losing my balance and tumbling over the boulders without control over how I fall. It is better to wait for the trees to finish burning down and wander around.


    Something growls behind me. I whirl around. One of those stupid mutts has washed onto my beach. Another one drifts by, unable to fight the raging waters that yank him over the edge. We both watch him stumble and crash between the boulders until he disappears. Another dog washes onto the sand, and another, and another one. They lie there panting for a while. I watch them warily. Why did I have to encounter them? Has my luck finally run out? Maybe not. At least their handlers aren¡¯t here.


    They sniff in my direction. Another one starts growling. They do recognize me. The biggest one looks at me with bloodshot eyes and singed fur, showing me sharp canines. It feels like he is accusing me of all their troubles. They stand up and start to step closer. I step back. I look towards the waterfall, then to the other side, into the roaring flames. They start barking at me. They bark and growl, flanking me to bar my way out. A shiver travels down my spine. I step back again. The desperation gives me an idea. I activate my seal-heat rune, take a deep breath, and jump into the fire.


    From the corner of my eyes, I can see incredulous faces looking at me. Flames engulf me, but I don¡¯t feel them. They are just a spectacle of light, parting in my way. I start running. Embers crack between my steps or get smothered into black coals in my wake. How far can it be until I am through? I can feel the yank in my core. The rune swallows up mana greedily. Will it last long enough to make it through to the other side? Tears fall down my cheeks, my eyes trying to wash out the stinging smoke. I start running. I stumble over stones and baked earth. I jump over a burned-down stump and continue running through a yellow and red world. One step, another, another, I lose count. At this rate, my breath will run out before my mana.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The red clouds spit me out into a sea of ashes, hiding still smoldering embers beneath them. I continue running towards the edge, where there are only stones and no burnt vegetation, where the air that rushes up feels safe to breathe, where I can climb down, out of this hell.


    Water laps over my ankles as I step forward. Hidden potholes swallow my feet when my strides are not careful enough. Soft mud paints my legs up to my knees. I wade through soaked meadows and swampy marshlands, feeling relieved. There is no smoke down here. Tall reeds whisper against my arms, caressing me with feathery tops that sway in the thick, humid air. Some forearm-sized frogs are sunning themselves, sitting languidly on boat-sized lily pads that float where the water is deep. Their croaks echo through the stillness until I am too close for their comfort, and they jump into the waters, leaving only slowly dispersing ripples behind. It smells of crabs and rain.


    Mangled corpses have gotten entangled between the waxy leaves of drifting water hyacinths that clump together in the center of the stream. I can see their roots and tendrils growing at breakneck speed, floating in the slow-flowing water. They reach for the battered flesh with eagerness, ripping clothes into slowly dissolving strands of fibers, boring into open wounds, and sucking the corpses dry. Empty husks give way to clusters of blooming violet flowers, their petals painted with yellow and lavender strokes that slowly turn red. Some caimans snack on the few corpses still floating free.


    I flinch and try to get more distance between me and the river. I tramp over narrow paths, between lily-filled ponds, toward the distant high ground, toward another forest.


    ¡°Hi! Who are you? You¡¯re gonna trample the rice!¡±


    I whirl around and come face to face with a young girl. A child with scrawny arms, unruly hair, a snot-covered nose, and big, olive-green eyes. Where did she come from? What is she doing here alone? What rice? I look around over orderly rows of green. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t know that was your rice.¡±


    She waves with her hand, ¡°I don¡¯t care. But Lamlam is gonna be all grumpy again.¡±


    ¡°Who is Lamlam?¡±


    ¡°My big brother.¡± She looks at me like she is expecting me to know that already.


    I step out of the water onto the dry ground next to the girl, a path encased in bricks and bamboo. ¡°What are you doing alone here? Isn¡¯t it dangerous? Where are your parents?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I don¡¯t remember. They went to p¡¯sent levy or something. Lamlam says they will come back when the war is over. Ahh, and if I¡¯m a good girl.¡±


    She looks at me conspiratorially, leans a bit closer, and whispers. ¡°But I think it doesn¡¯t matter if I¡¯m a good girl.¡±


    I smile. ¡°Why didn¡¯t this Lamlam or your grandparents come with you? I saw a few caimans down there by the river. If they come here, it could get dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Granny died last summer.¡± She looks at me with forlorn eyes. ¡°It¡¯s only me and Lamlam now. And Bunnybean.¡± She shudders, then looks back at me. ¡°The caimans never come here because of Bunnybean!¡±


    ¡°Who is Bunnybean?¡±


    ¡°Our doggy.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± If they think it is safe, who am I to tell them that it is not?


    ¡°And I come here because, back by the house, it is boring.¡± She looks at me, eyes sparkling. ¡°You should come back with me and dry yourself, or you gonna get cold. It is gonna get dark soon.¡±


    She wants me to go with her? Is this another trap? No, it can¡¯t be. The inertia of these past days makes me want to bolt, to not trust anyone. But I am graving human company, a kind face. ¡°Okay. Why not?¡±


    She takes me by the hand and guides me through a maze of twisting paths. Rice fields give way to mulberry groves, pear, and peach trees. They are all a bit overgrown as if someone forgot to prune them. But if half of the farmers are missing, that shouldn¡¯t surprise me.


    A deep bark thunders through the air. Heavy steps stomp closer from somewhere. Shit! Are the dogs back? How did they manage to climb down? I freeze in place. Memories of the beach assault me. A horse-sized beast burst out between flowering bushes. A force of nature that darts closer, like a brakeless carriage about to crash into me and sweep me off my feet.


    ¡°Bunnybean! Be nice!¡± The gigantic dog stumbles, incapable of bleeding his momentum. He slides over the grass and comes to a stop at our feet. He tilts his head to look at me. Then he looks at the girl holding my hand and slobbers the dirt out of her face with a pink, plate-sized tongue. ¡°Argh! Stop!¡± she giggles.


    Air rushes into my starving lungs. I relax my clenched fists. Who names a three or four-hundred-kilogram heavy beast Bunnybean? I watch the dog, still a bit wary, but he seems to have accepted me now and starts guiding us toward a reed-covered house built on waist-thick bamboo stilts. What am I now, a stray member of his pack?


    ¡°Lamlam, we have guests!¡±


    A hand pushes the flap that covers the doorway aside. A tall, lean teenage boy pokes his curl-covered head out. His eyes dart over us, over the road, warily. His fibered arm tenses. His fingers cramp around the handle of a dirt-covered machete. His green eyes fall onto the three of us again. He lets his arm fall back down. ¡°Emm. Hi?¡±


    ¡°He is a bit shy,¡± confesses the girl.


    ¡°What? No, I¡¯m not!¡± denies the boy, his cheeks turning red. ¡°Minae! Don¡¯t lie!¡±


    She looks at me and giggles in mischief. ¡°I invited her for a sleepover. It is okay, is it not?¡±


    She did what? The boy looks at me. I must look like a beggar with my singed and tattered robe and muddy trousers. ¡°Hmm. You came from that fire upriver or something?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± What to say? Who should I pretend to be? They can¡¯t have heard about those guys searching for me, can they? ¡°I got separated from my hunting party in the chaos.¡± I sniff and rub my eyes until they are red and irritated. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened to them.¡±


    ¡°Sorry to hear that. Do you need help searching for them?¡±


    ¡°What? No.¡± I smile at the boy. ¡°Thank you for offering, though.¡± I wave a strand of hair out of my face. ¡°We are supposed to head back to Deepwater if something happens.¡± I smile again. ¡°If you could show me the way, that would be great.¡±


    The boy whistles. ¡°That is far.¡± He rubs his forehead, looks downriver into the setting sun, and mutters something to himself before looking back at me. ¡°There is a trading port a few miles down the road. Where the Limanae River flows into the Umanoka. You could get a ship there.¡±


    ¡°But you will stay with us tonight, won¡¯t you?¡± the girl, Minae, takes my hand and pouts at me.¡±


    ¡°If it is not a bother. I don¡¯t want to impose.¡± I feel a bit out of place. I am intruding. But who knows what the rules of hospitality are around this place, in this kingdom, in this empire? Maybe solitary farmers always invite strangers when they cross their lands.


    ¡°What are you talking about? Lamlam, are you gonna let us in or not? It is getting dark.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure. Come in.¡±


    The fire crackles over a big soot-covered stone slab, casting flickering shadows across the interwoven bamboo beams of the walls and the ceiling. The scent of burning wood mingles with the aroma of a hearty stew that slowly simmers in a big cast iron pot.


    Minae is lying on the couch, loudly snoring, with a smile on her face. Bunnybean has abandoned her and sits beside me, his snout in my lap, his big eyes begging. I have become his new best friend since I started feeding him pieces of jerky behind my back.


    ¡°Tea?¡± Lamlam, or Lamac, his real name, offers me a steaming clay mug smelling of honey and spices.


    ¡°Sure,¡° I accept. Our fingers touch for an instant. The snores have gone silent. I look over Lamac¡¯s shoulder. The not-sleeping Minae closes her eyes in a flash and starts snoring again. I giggle. Is she trying to set me up with her brother or something?


    Lamac looks at me, raising his eyebrows, unaware of the interaction. He serves himself another mug of tea and sits down on the opposite side of the table. He cast a furtive look outside, to the sky fading to ink-black, like looking for something. But there is nothing out there, only the omnipresent croaks of the frogs and the near-silent flaps of bats hunting mosquitoes. He wraps his weathered hands around the mug and leans closer to me. ¡°Are you with them?¡± he asks in a whisper.


    ¡°?With who?¡± I ask back, bewildered.


    ¡°Sorry, nobody important, forget about it.¡± He answers, sounding disappointed. He drops his shoulders and leans back in his chair. He stares into the darkness for a while, eyes forlorn, blowing into his cup to cool his tea down. Then he shudders and stands up. ¡°I think the stew is ready.¡±

 11-Tanners, fishers, and merchants

    The horizon begins to light up. It is not the red glow of the fire anymore but a herald announcing the arrival of the rising sun. The distant tree line draws steep silhouettes in the morning gloom. My eyes fall upon the two still blissfully sleeping siblings. I smile. It would be nice to stay a while, relax, eat freshly collected fruits and vegetables, and learn about farming. I think they would like that. Well, the girl surely would.


    But I can not do that. I am still too close to my pursuers. If they find me here and recognize me, I will only cause problems for the farmers. I need to move on. Move on before Minae wakes up, or she will not let me go that easily.


    I sneak over the polished bamboo planks, smothering the creaks with my silence runes. Maybe I can leave them a present, a thank you for inviting me in. My ring is still nearly bursting. Yes, I will do that.


    Sacks of rice and barrels of pickled cabbage appear on the ground near the entrance. Bunnybean woofs at me softly and looks at me with pleading eyes, his tongue lolling between his teeth. He stubs me with his moist, apple-sized nose, tickling me with his breath.


    ¡°Okay, buddy,¡± I giggle, raising my shoulders to protect my sensitive neck. ¡°Stop!¡± I whisper. I take out my last strip of jerky and surrender it to him. It disappears in a flash before reaching the ground. He looks at me again, expecting more. ¡°Sorry, that was all I had.¡±


    He tilts his head and huffs, disappointed, making no further attempt to stand in my way. I step outside into the soft morning breeze. The excited chirps of hidden, early-rising birds greet me.


    I have arrived at the port Lamac spoke of. Already well into the afternoon. Port is one way to call it; town could be another. I sneak in, glad in invisibility, because I don¡¯t want anyone to see me arriving from the forest. I don¡¯t know if my pursuers could have lookouts here, searching for lonely girls. The hustle and bustle of the people has a calming effect on my nerves. I am not the only girl strolling around. Some gallivant in groups, conversing in excited chatters. Others walk alone, busy trying to reach some place only they know about. I do not stand out here. Perfect!


    I stroll into a side alley, dismiss my invisibility, and step back into the street, following the crowd further into the town.


    A sharp stench of ammonia waves over the street and bites into my sinuses. I scrunch my nose, trying to dismiss it, but it sticks to me like a burr. I look up. My eyes fall over vats of soured liquid filled with rawhide. The cloying musk they release reaches me. A sickly sweetness, the ghost of something wild becoming tamed and preserved. The pungent brew of sweat and decay, flesh in transformation, hangs over everything. It worms its way through the fabric of clothing and into the very bones of those who linger too long. The crowd disperses around here, opting to meander through parallel side streets or to flicker past in a hurry, looking back in disgust.


    The tanners do not seem to care about it. They may have grown anosmic over the years. Their animated chatter rings through the air. I watch them hoist sodden skins out of the vats and slap them onto flat stones. Sluggish beats echo across the courtyard. The remaining liquid sloshes and gurgles. It looks thick as old blood. It hums with the characteristic buzz of mana, too. Dull knives scrap and peel away useless flesh, transforming the hides into fine leather.


    Apart from being a trading stop for the passing ships to resupply, this town seems to be a meeting point for all the hunters and gatherers of the region, where they come to sell their catches. Where they transform and preserve raw beasts. Before shipping them away into polite society. Could there be an alchemist store here? I wander in search. A bit reluctant to ask. I do not want my accent to give me away as a foreigner. I need to get the local accent right. Or maybe not, now that I focus on it. I can hear different accents and see multiple styles of clothes. Lots of people from adjacent and distant regions seem to pass through.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I ask a young boy. ¡°Do you know if there is an alchemist supply store somewhere?¡±


    He looks at me like I am dumb. ¡°It is just behind you.¡±


    Oh! Okay. Maybe this was not my finest moment.


    ¡°Fifty silvers per ounce? Are you trying to rob me?¡± I half-yell, trying to sound indignant. Should I haggle or not? I have seen others doing it. It seems to be common practice, and he may expect it.


    ¡°Girl, this is quality ink. Freshly mixed mana-ink, still full of potency, not the watered-down ages-old slosh they sell you in the big cities.¡± He looks at me, at my clothes, judging them. ¡°I can maybe go as low as forty-five, but you are bleeding me dry.¡±


    How much even is an ounce? I should have inquired about the local measurement units before coming in here. I am not sure if he is trying to swindle me or not. What are the superior measurement units? I will look like a country bumpkin if I do not know them. ¡°We are reaching nowhere,¡± I announce, lifting my chin. ¡°Tell me your bulk price. I need much more than an ounce.¡±


    He looks at me, eyes gleaming, rubbing his hands in anticipation. ¡°I could go as low as 5 gold per pint, or 35 gold per gallon. I have seven mouths to feed.¡±


    More measurements I do not understand. It is so frustrating. Has he even gone lower or not? Will I look stupid if I am not able to recognize if he has? ¡°That is still too much. I will give you 20 gold coins for one gallon.¡±


    ¡°That barely covers the cost of the materials!¡± he yammers back. ¡°The gatherers that supply me have been raising their prices lately, you know. First, it was because of those rebels. Now, they say something is going on in the forest. Always whining and swindling poor old Marak.¡± He nearly seems to whine himself, crying in tears. ¡°I need to make some profit to pay for the hours of work it takes to refine and mix the ingredients." He gives me a stern look before declaring. "30 gold, at least.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay. But that is still a lot. I will give you 50 gold for two gallons.¡±


    He catches my hand in a blink and shakes it. ¡°Sold.¡±


    The tears have disappeared, an illusion that fades away. Now, only a smiling man remains. Did he rip me off? He starts filling four large glass bottles from a big, metallic barrel. Okay, maybe two gallons is a lot. Not sure if he scammed me or not. At least inside my ring, it will not spoil. I may have enough to practice for years. I can dispose of the lumpy, fast-fading blood I have been using. It will be way easier to draw fine details. There is so much I want to try out. My fingers twitch in anticipation. I count out the coins into a pouch, hidden from sight. Then I throw them onto the counter.


    The store owner looks up briefly, then continues filling my bottles. ¡°Something else?¡±


    ¡°No, that is all.¡±


    The docks welcome me with the stench of fish guts. The boards are slick with algae and old, slushy scales. The afternoon sun casts long shadows over a group of fishers unloading their haul, their voices rising and falling with the waves that dance over the kilometer-wide river.


    ¡°Look at this one, eh?¡± a burly man with a grizzled beard holds up a glistening, mottled pike, grinning from ear to ear. ¡°Damn near took my arm off. Ain''t she a beauty?¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°A beauty to you, maybe,¡± scoffs a wiry man gutting salmon with quick, practiced strokes. ¡°To me, she is tomorrow¡¯s supper.¡±


    Laughter ripples through the group. More pikes lay on the wooden planks around them, still slick with river water, scales catching the light in sharp, metallic glints. Gaping mouths reveal rows of sharp, needle-like teeth, curved and precise, built for holding on and never letting go. Their glassy eyes seem to have no recognition of the sky, lost in the memories of murky depths and sudden violence. Even in death, they look fierce and coiled, as if, given half a chance, they would trash in search of freedom. Slip back into the water, to vanish like ghosts into the reeds before getting revenge on those who dared to disturb them.


    I step onto the dock, hesitating. My boots scuff against the wood. ¡°Excuse me,¡± I call, trying to push my voice over the wind and chatter.


    A few men look up, hands and knives still hidden inside fish guts. ¡°Well, ain¡¯t that a beauty too?¡± More laughter erupts. I can feel my cheeks burning. ¡°You lost, lass?¡±


    ¡°What? No! I am trying to find someone who can tell me where to buy a ticket for one of those passenger ships.¡±


    A young boy snorts, disentangling his arms from a pile of nets. ¡°Passenger ship? You one of those nobles or something, looking for a pleasant ride, cushions, and warm meals? There are no passenger ships. Just us fishing skippers and merchants.¡±


    I roll my eyes and square my shoulders. ¡°Do I look like a noble to you? I need passage, not a lecture nor silky cushions, boy.¡±


    More laughter erupts.


    ¡°She got you there, Evan,¡± asserts the wiry man. Chuckles cascade around the crowd. ¡°Those silver-grey eyes the lass has do seem like those of a noble, though.¡± He looks at me, grooming his nearly non-existent mustache. ¡°But she is too feisty to be one, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°The lords and ladies over in Peruvia have those eyes.¡± Asserts a red-haired guy. ¡°Lots of bastards have ¡¯em too. Them nobles like to fuck around.¡±


    Hello? I am right here! What are they even talking about?


    The grizzled man wipes his hands on his apron. ¡°Sorry lass, don¡¯t listen to those idiots. You won¡¯t find much here, only fishing boats and fools. They could take you at most to some of the close villages if you don¡¯t mind a rough ride.¡±


    The wiry man tosses another gutted pike into a wooden basin. Then he points toward the eastern side of the town with his knife, flicking fish guts off the blade. ¡°You should go to the opposite side of town. There are more piers there. Next to ¡®em is an inn called the Drunken Siren. That¡¯s where the merchants stay. They take passengers if you¡¯ve got the coin. Just ask the barmaid. She knows when they will arrive and who you should approach.¡±


    I nod, already turning. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Laughter follows me down the dock, swallowed by the breeze and the rhythmic crash of the waves.


    The scent of woodsmoke, ale, spilled wine, and expensive perfumes washes over me through the still swinging door. The inn is dim inside, soft glowing oil-lamps, barely banish the shadows. The fire in the hearth crackles low. The light it projects flickers over smooth, polished beams, grey smudges revealing rests of years of smoke infused between the wood-grains.


    Heavy boots rush over the damp floor. Patrons stand at the bar or hunch around the wooden tables. They have tankards or fine glassware in their hands and dine and chat in a low murmur. Talking of trade or cursing the weather. Relating the movements of bandits, of which routes are safe or not. I step closer, trying to listen in.


    ¡°This situation will ruin us,¡± spits a pot-bellied man with a thinning hairline. He slams his fists on the table. Their glasses vibrate, and some wine spills over. ¡°I had to hire four extra spell-blades just to come up here. The bandits have boats now. They sail over the river in broad daylight. We may as well throw our coin into the water and save the trouble.¡±


    ¡°It has gotten even worse this season,¡± grumbles another one, rubbing his temples. ¡°They won¡¯t say it, but the legion is stretched thin with the rebels. Entire ships have gone missing, people and all. Do you want to end up like that?¡±


    ¡°I want to keep my profits!¡± shoots the half-bald one back. ¡°Every bloody hand we hire eats into the margins, and I am not in this business for charity.¡±


    ¡°Then feel free to go alone,¡± drawls the third merchant. A tall, square-built one, picking at his nails with a butterknife. ¡°I am sure your charming personality will scare off those wannabe pirates.¡±


    The half-bald one glares at him. ¡°If those nobles would do something about it, we would not need to. I don¡¯t know what they are waiting for to smash that stupid rebellion.¡± He takes a sip of wine and continues to rant, ¡°They say most of them are just peasants. How hard can it be? They are wasting the taxes they extort from us.¡±


    ¡°Keep your voice low,¡± admonishes the tall one. He points with the knife towards a group of finely dressed young boys who have been eyeballing me since I entered this place. ¡°They may take offense; you know how proud and hot-blooded they are.¡±


    ¡°It is not as simple as it seems,¡± explains the last merchant in a hush. ¡°They have those thundersticks. They say those can shoot a metal ball strong enough to kill a Diamond-ranked mage if he has nothing to counter it.¡±


    ¡°I thought those were slow to load and unwieldy, really hard to aim,¡± says the pot-bellied one.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter if they have dozens of them.¡± The tall one casts a wary glance at the loudly chatting noble youth before hushing in an even lower voice. ¡°They level the playing field. A group of well-armed farmers and peasants can kill a noble mage now. That is why they hide in their castles and let the legion fight it out for them.¡±


    The third merchant whistles. ¡°Where did they even get something like that from.¡±


    ¡°How should I know? The dwarves, maybe? Maybe those bastards are covertly trying to take over.¡±


    The pot-bellied one leans closer over the table and asks in a low voice, "Do you think there is money to be made over on the rebel side?"


    "No."


    "Don¡¯t make me laugh," answers the tall one. "They don¡¯t like people like us either." He slurps some mussels out of their shell before continuing. "They may just decide that they need your money more than yourself. To finance their cause or some other bullshit."


    They scrunch their noses for some reason as I pass by and fall silent. Rude! I decide to ignore them for now and wait for more friendly merchants. I pass another group of grizzly-looking men sipping ale from big wooden tankards. Massive swords lean against the wooden window frames. They look at me, grunting between gulps, then continue to drink.


    ¡°What do you want, lass?¡± asks the innkeeper. She pauses mid-wipe once I reach the counter. A thick-armed woman who looks like she could give those mercenaries a run for their money. She sizes me up with the practiced wariness of one who sees all kinds of people traipsing through her door. She scrunches her nose, too.


    ¡°A room for the night and a ship passage towards Minas Kalin,¡± I say. I hope that it is possible to reach that place by river. Maybe I should have tried to get a map first. She scrunches her nose again. I feel a bit offended about how she looks at me. Am I a bug or a cockroach? ¡°Well, a room for as long as it takes to find a ship-passage.¡±


    ¡°Can you pay?¡± She grunts. What the hell is wrong with her?


    ¡°Sure.¡± I toss a few gold coins on the counter.


    She wipes them away in a flash, smiling broadly now. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, honey. I can get you both. That should be enough. How many ship passages do you need?¡±


    ¡°Thanks?¡± I look at her change of attitude towards me, bewildered. "Just one." Is it strange for a girl to travel alone here? Probably. "Well, if you can recommend a trusty guard to hire, maybe two passages." I cast my eyes down and mumble. "I lost my last guard to some bandits."


    "Oh, you poor girl!"


    "Another ale!" orders someone.


    "Coming!" She starts filling a tankard. "You could try post a quest over at the mercenaries guild. You may not even need it, though, traveling by ship in a group. Your choice."


    Could it be a good idea? It could let me craft a different persona to confound the people looking for me. I wouldn¡¯t be a lonely girl from the slums anymore but some noble or merchant daughter traveling through the countryside. I don¡¯t know if a mercenaries guild would be the best place to hire. How private are they with the information they gather about their clients? The last thing I need is to leave a paper trail.


    The barmaid tosses me a key after coming back. "Here you go. Your room is the last door on the left on the first floor." She leans closer to me and whispers, ¡°You should take a bath first, though. You reek like a tanner.¡± Oh! I facepalm, my cheeks flush hot in embarrassment. ¡°Oh, you were not aware of it?¡± Her laughter erupts like a ringing bell. ¡°Sorry, don¡¯t bother about it. It happens often.¡± She winks at me, still smiling. ¡°I can prepare you a bath in your room. But if I were in your place, I would go to the hot springs.¡±


    ¡°Hohohot springs?¡± I stutter.


    ¡°Yes, they are over at the foot of the hill, right next to the temples.¡±


    ¡°I think I will go there.¡±


    ¡°Good choice. Should I prepare you something to eat for when you come back?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Ah! You can let them wash your clothes there too. Tell them that Tomoe sent you. The attendants are both cousins of mine.¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡± I rush out without looking back, like a beaten dog. Trying to ignore a group of finely dressed ladies that snicker while pointing their fingers at me.

 12-Hot springs and tattoos

    Steam curls around me as I step onto the wet marble, slick and polished to a mirror sheen. The heat rises in thick, swirling ribbons that blur the city lights, banishing the fresh breeze that carries hints of roses and jasmine down from the temple gardens. I walk onwards, closer to the edge of the pool. Only a white towel presses against my skin in a gentle embrace, a cocoon of quiet comfort. The assistants made me leave my clothes behind and rinse myself under a cold shower before letting me in. Then they send me into the women''s section. Because yes, all the women bathe together here in a communal pool, naked as they were born. I freeze for a second in shock. Is this what they call cultural differences? But I am not squeamish, am I? Wherever you go, do what you see. It is not the first time I have seen people naked. They made us bathe together in the orphanage all the time when we were little kids, miserly penny pinchers that they were.


    I unwrap myself from my towel and hang it on a hook over a bunch of red-glowing stones that dry the air around them. Nobody is looking at me, are they? Well, two girls about my age, who float on the other side of the pool, glance at me but continue giggling in a low voice, whispering between themselves.


    I dip a toe into the water, taking in the sharp contrast in temperature to the cool night air that clings to me, drawing goosebumps all over my skin. I let myself sink into the warm embrace of the water. Into the steam, that floods the air under clouds of mineral dust, orange blossoms, and lavender. My muscles thaw, and all the lingering tension melts away. A sigh escapes my lips.


    ¡°Those idiots are going to continue pestering us all the way towards Minas Kalin,¡± says one of the girls. She rinses her pitch-black curls with a wave of her hand before submerging her hair again under the water. I may not be the only one trying to get to that city. Well, there are only two directions to take when traveling by ship. Downriver towards Deepwater or upstream towards Minas Kalin. The last stop of the route, as I found out earlier.


    The other girl rolls her eyes and lets the tip of her toes drift over the water, showing off her perfect pedicure. ¡°As if they had a chance,¡± she giggles. ¡°My dad would never let me have a dalliance with some simple baron¡¯s son.¡± The other girl casts her a judging look. ¡°What? Do you think I would? Even if he let me, no way!¡± She laughs out loud now, drowning the noise under gurgling water bubbles. ¡°They are hideous,¡­, and think way too much of themselves.¡±


    An old woman leaves the pool, shaking her head and muttering something about the noisy youth of today. The girls quiet down, following the woman¡¯s steps over the marble until she disappears, leaving us alone. Then they start giggling again.


    We float for a while in silence. I can feel furtive glances washing over me. I look back. Our eyes lock for an instant before they shy away like skittish deer caught in the glow of a lamplight. They whisper between themselves. They nudge and shove each other, like trying to build up courage. Finally, the one with the pedicured nails swims closer, or should I call her redhead?


    ¡°Hi! I¡¯m Yuileen,¡± she presents herself. Or that. I can call her by her name. ¡°That shy girl over there is Kamoe.¡±


    ¡°What? I am not shy!¡± exclaims her friend. Then she decides to swim over, too. ¡°Take that back!¡±


    Yuileen only laughs, dodging a tackle from her friend, before letting herself drift close again. ¡°We love your tattoos.¡± Okay, that is what caught their attention. ¡°They look almost like runes.¡±


    Maybe there is an angle here I can play. These girls may be just what I need if I play it right. I ponder. ¡°I am Minae,¡± I lie. ¡°They look like runes because they are runes.¡±


    Yuileen leans back, splashing in the water, her shoulders barely visible over the rippling surface. ¡°So cool!¡± She comes closer again to take a better look. ¡°How would that even work? What do they do?¡±


    ¡°They are called body runes,¡± I explain. ¡°Instead of gathering ambient mana, you feed and control them with your mana pool.¡± To demonstrate it, I let myself fade into invisibility.


    Yuileen pokes her finger in my direction, eyes wide open. ¡°No way!¡± After a lot of fumbling around through empty air, she finally manages to touch my invisible belly. ¡°That is so smooth! Is it not smooth, Kamoe?¡± I let myself turn visible again.


    ¡°It is,¡± acknowledges her friend. ¡°It works. I didn¡¯t see her activate any technique.¡± Wait? She did not see me do what? I suppress a gulp. These innocent-looking girls may well be higher-ranking and better-trained mages than I am. Half the town could be the same. I suppress an envious grumble. Keep a straight face. Do not let it show. It must be easy to advance in rank when you have lived all your life in this mana density.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shame my parents would never let me get a tattoo,¡± groans Yuileen. ¡°My mother would drop dead if I came home with a tattoo,¡± she kicks behind her, to not drift away with the soft current, and rolls her eyes. ¡°Like clutching her chest, grasping for air and fainting and collapsing into some maid¡¯s arms levels of drama.¡± She giggles.


    Kamoe snorts, shaking her head and watching the falling droplets ripple over the pool¡¯s surface. ¡°Mine would cry, whine, and tell me how I have marred my skin. How I have blown away all my good marriage options.¡± She sighs, tilting her head over the marble edge. ¡°Or they would just cast me that look, you know? The one that says you are a disappointment to the family without a single word. Casting waves of silent judgment before they hammer down with an appropriate punishment.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­, that look,¡± mutters Yuileen, rubbing her face until her cheeks turn red. ¡°My mom has perfected it. One day, she caught me with red nail polish and looked at me like I had failed all our ancestors. Without even saying a word.¡± She hides her snickers, diving under, but has to resurface again a few seconds later, coughing and spitting water. Finally, she manages to calm down and confesses in a meek and low voice, ¡°A week later, she made me play hostess all alone for the sons of the Von Kinen¡­¡±


    For some reason, she is turning red like a cherry in summer.


    ¡°Ugh, you don¡¯t need to tell more.¡± Kamoe shudders, almost as if the cold wind had erased the steam around her, seeping into her bones. ¡°They are like the plague¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me,¡± grumbles Yuileen. ¡°My mom said that if I wanted to dress like a harlot, I should learn how it feels to be treated like one...¡±


    Kamoe smirks, flicking water toward her friend. ¡°And a tattoo is a million times worse than nail polish.¡±


    "Exactly!" Yuileen waves a hand. "I could get a small, cute butterfly on my wrist. So small it is barely even noticeable, and they would still act like I had been defiled by demons." She looks into the distance, forlorn. "They are useful, though." Letting her gaze wander back toward me, she asks, ¡°Is it only normal invisibility, or does it hide you from other senses, too?¡±


    ¡°Just normal invisibility,¡± I explain. Is it time to throw the hook? Or do I need to sow the terrain a bit more? ¡°I need to acquire the appropriate runes to add other effects.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Oh, well. Then it isn¡¯t that useful,¡± she pouts. Every high-ranking mage will still feel you with their soul sense.¡± Note to myself: find out what soul-sense is and how to shield from it. I am missing so much information. I need to be careful if I want to go on a job here. Have I been lucky until now? Well, it is not like most high-ranking mages would lower themselves to the point of wasting their time searching for a nearly mortal girl. They have grunts to send after you for that. Or would they come in person if it takes too long? I suppress a shudder. Cold sweat runs down the scruff of my neck. ¡°Wait!¡± exclaims Yuileen. ¡°You made them yourself?¡±


    I look her over. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    She smashes her palm onto the water, excited, creating huge waves that spill water all over the marble. Then she whispers to her friend, purring like a cat and wiggling her eyebrows. ¡°Kami, think about all the mischievousness we could cause.¡±


    "Yeah, it could be so cool, like having extra techniques up your sleeve." Kamoe looks over the city roofs with dreamy eyes. ¡°Do you think they would let it pass because of that? Because they can expand our abilities?¡±


    Yuileen grins and shakes her head. "No way, it doesn¡¯t matter. They would still disown me so fast."


    I should throw my hook into the sea before the moment passes. ¡°Well, it is not like they are permanent. They fade away after some time, and the more you use them.¡± I wink at Kamoe.


    Yuileen whirls around, her shoulder brushing over my breasts. ¡°What?¡± I flinch back. Woah there, tigress, keep your paws to yourself. She blinks, unaware. She seems lost in her mind, trying to reprocess what I just said. To check if what she heard was real. Then she catches me by both of my forearms. Pressing them down to look me in the eyes. ¡°You need to make me one.¡± She nearly yells into my face like an overeager puppy. ¡°I need one! Please!¡±


    Now, continue to spin the tale, a spider casting her web. The fish is hooked. It is time to start railing it in carefully. ¡°Well, I would love to help you. As long as you pay for the ink, obviously.¡± She gives off an excited squeal. Splashing vigorously in the water. ¡°But I am afraid I don¡¯t have enough time. I need to hire a new guard because I lost mine in a skirmish. And then I need to get onto the next ship toward Minas Kalin.¡±


    ¡°To Minas Kalin? We go there too! You could come with us!¡± Yuileen¡¯s gaze darts towards her friend. ¡°She can come with us, can¡¯t she? Kami?¡±


    ¡°I can not see why not. The merchant works for our family. He can¡¯t say no.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s solved. You will come with us!¡± exclaims Yuileen, letting my arms go, shaking with excitement. ¡°You don¡¯t even need to waste your money to hire another guard here. They think way too much of themselves but are rubbish.¡± She makes a dismissive movement with her hand as if all the common folk were beneath her. ¡°We have more than enough with us. And those are real guards.¡± Fish railed in. She looks back at me, asking me with her eyes. ¡°What happened with yours anyway? If I may ask.


    I sigh, eyes cast down, looking into the water. Don¡¯t let it slip away now for being careless. ¡°We got waylaid by bandits, a whole lot of them.¡± I feign a shudder and whisper. ¡°I had to defeat the last one myself.¡±


    Kamoe whistles between her teeth. ¡°That is harsh.¡± She pulls herself out of the water to sit on the marble edge. ¡°I guess those idiotic boys that travel with us would shit themselves if it had happened to them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± interjects Yuileen, still excited, not catching the mood I try to impose for some reason. ¡°They may boast all day about their heroic accomplishments.¡± She rolls her eyes again. ¡°But they are just city dandies, sheltered from harm their whole life.¡±


    I blink, hiding my confusion. And you believe yourself to be different?


    ¡°Where did you come from,¡± asks Kamoe, rinsing her hair again. ¡°I mean, which route did you follow to arrive in this town?¡±


    ¡°From Peruvia,¡± I lie. ¡°I don¡¯t know. We had to change our means of transport a few times. The attack was close to town, actually, somewhere downriver. I just had to wander the last stretch alone.¡±


    ¡°I knew it!¡± exclaims Yuileen. ¡°You have their eyes! From which family do you hail from?¡±


    Oh, shit! I forgot they are nobility. They all know about each other. I should have thought about that. I lack practice. How do I salvage this? Pin down the fish before it slips back into the river. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know.¡± I cast my eyes down as if ashamed to continue. ¡°I¡¯m just a bastard. My mom never told me who my father is exactly.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± mumbles Yuileen. ¡°Well, don¡¯t worry, we don¡¯t care. We have other bastard friends. We won¡¯t treat you any different.¡± She looks into my eyes, studying them. ¡°It is strange that they didn¡¯t recognize you, though. It is not like you are their only one. And, with those intense eyes, your spirit root must be very pure.¡± She looks over at Kamoe. ¡°I thought they valued potential over everything else there, did they not, Kami?¡±


    ¡°Yes, normally they do. They have this whole thing where they establish a ranking.¡± She starts folding her towel neatly around her shimmering half-dry hair. ¡°They use those rankings to determine who will be the successor, like they do on the eastern continent, instead of it being the eldest, like everywhere else.¡±


    Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. ¡°Something like that is why I am going to Minas Kalin,¡± I pretend to admit. ¡°I got a letter. Something about some heir having had an accident. And a summon to the whole extended family to determine the new successor.¡±


    ¡°Oh! It must be the Han clan or the Lin clan, then.¡± Explains Kamoe. Clan? Why did she call it a clan? Is it a tribal society? I blink, confused. ¡°They are the only ones who have estates there.¡±


    ¡°Do you know the address?¡± asks Yuileen.


    ¡°Well,¡± I shrug my shoulders, ¡°I lost it during the bandit attack.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Yuileen catches one of my arms again, trying to calm me down. ¡°We will find out once we arrive. If some family heir had an accident, it would be the talk of the city.¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± denies Kamoe. ¡°Those clans care a lot about appearances. They may not tell anybody outside of the family¡­ They may limit themselves to announcing that they have a new heir once the decision is final.¡±


    ¡°It may be the Lin clan,¡± I pretend to acknowledge, trying to nip future complications in the bud. I can see these girls trying to use their connections once we arrive in that city and landing me in some mess. Better to prevent it now. ¡°I think I once overheard my mom cursing them.¡±


    ¡°You will become high nobility, like us!¡± squeals Yuileen. ¡°A new friend, our parents will let us mingle with without complaints. Isn¡¯t it exciting? ¡°She smiles at me, showing pearl-white teeth. ¡°A friend with which to rant over stupid etiquette and idiotic boys. Found in this gods-forsaken town, this must be destiny.¡±


    Did she already decide in her imaginary world that I have won that succession, selection, or whatever? Shit, etiquette. I need a crash course about local etiquette to pass as a noble. Well, maybe not if I pretend to be just a bastard who never had contact with them. ¡°High nobles?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Oh, yeah. My mom is a duchess, and Kami¡¯s dad is a count.¡± She gets out of the water, too, and holds her hands to dry over the hot stones. I imitate them. ¡°But he is actually more important than Mom. The province Kami is from did not have dukedoms before the empire took over,¡± she explains.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°And the heads of the Peruvian clans call themselves patriarchs because of their ties to the easterners,¡± interjects Kamoe, waiting for us to dry down. ¡°They are also considered high nobility. Well, at least the Lins and the Hans are. That¡¯s why they are the only ones that own estates in Minas Kalin, far away from their territories.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you will learn all that yourself!¡± I must have looked a bit overwhelmed. ¡°They will probably assign you a private tutor to catch up.¡±


    We walk toward the dressing rooms, clad in the warm embrace of the towels.


    I select the fanciest robe I can find and pull it out of my ring.


    ¡°Oh! Nice martial robe,¡± approves Yuileen, smiling at me. ¡°You take it seriously, eh?¡± They both clad themselves in celestial blue, smooth, silken mage-robes that highlight their figures. I resist the temptation to snort. Yeah, I would never dress in something like that. It seems way too restrictive to your movements. ¡°Where are you staying.¡±


    ¡°At some inn called the Drunken Siren.¡±


    ¡°Awesome, we too!¡±


    Kamoe snorts, ¡°Where else would she stay, Yuli? It¡¯s not like there are many options to choose from.¡±


    ¡°Ugh! True,¡± concedes Yuileen, biting her lip. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it¡¯s the only halfway decent place you can find in this backwater town.¡± She strolls into the softly illuminated streets, breathing in the breeze and the smells that float down from the temple gardens. ¡°I have seen the hellhole where half of our guards are lodged in.¡± A pair of armed men appear out of thin air, right next to us, nearly making me flinch. But neither of the noble ladies seem to be alarmed. They must be some of those guards, then. ¡°I tell you. They should burn it to the ground after we leave.¡±


    We start wandering through the streets towards the river. The guards remain a few paces behind us, keeping a respectful distance.

 13-The goatling dances under the rain

    The rain drums against the roof in a slow rhythm, tapping at the shingles with hollow thuds. A lullaby sung by the grey clouds rolling over the sky.


    I have taken refuge in my room to escape all those pesky gentlemen trying to buy me drinks. They have been all over me with their calculated attention and empty praises since Yuileen presented me to them as her good friend Lin Minae.


    I shudder. The drops out there are growing bold, and splatter against the window in sharp bursts that explode into scattered beads that roll over the glass, slowly flowing together into streams that gather on the window sill before disappearing in a cascading symphony of murmurs and sighs. Windows are made of glass in this empire, even in a simple inn.


    The warm blankets tempt me to return into their embrace and let the morning drift by, but I have work to do. I want a kinetic shield to protect me from projectiles. Nobody knows when I will find time to tinker with runes again. I only have today because tomorrow our ship lifts anchor.


    My first try is a simple adaption of my trusty seal rune using a component of my shock absorber rune to seal kinetic energy.


    It works, but not how I need it to. I throw another knife into the air and let it fall towards me. It freezes in place long before reaching me, then slowly slides down, along the boundary of an invisible sphere, until it falls straight and clatters against the wooden boards of the floor. The problem is that while the rune is active, I am frozen in place, too. I can¡¯t move a finger.


    I frown. Could this have some potential? How does it work? I deactivate the rune, jump up, and activate it mid-air.


    My movement stops mid-jump, floating a few fingers above the ground, fixed in space. This seal movement rune may not be what I was looking for, but I can find some uses. I try to grin, but the muscles of my face remain still, like a wax sculpture. I deactivate the rune, gravity is reborn. I land in an odd position and stumble but catch myself before I fall.


    How do I improve it? Instead of freezing myself and my immediate surroundings in space, I need to project that effect onto a surface a step or a few steps away. The sphere rune should help me with that. However, I do not need it to be a sphere, just a flat plane between me and the origin of the movement, to consume less mana.


    It would need to be able to sense and calculate the vectors of incoming projectiles and deploy the shield accordingly. Scratch that. That is too complicated and would require rune components I do not have. It would probably end up consuming even more mana. The surface of a sphere it is.


    This time, it arrests the knife without impeding my movements. The downside is that it also gobbles up mana like a starving hyena. It outpaces my mana recovery. I can not keep this rune active continuously. That would be strange, anyway, because the people around me would not see the shield and crash into it. I also may not always see incoming projectiles or be able to react in time to put the shield up before they hit me. I need to convert this active shield into a reactive shield.


    I may even have all the components I need. I can see it come together in my mind. The rune needs a feeder, the detection components of the wards, modified to detect incoming movement, and the only part of the final rune that will remain active all the time. That should keep the mana consumption down. Once they detect an incoming threat, they trigger a switch that releases a burst of mana from a storage component to activate the shield. It doesn¡¯t need to stay active long, only for a heartbeat to intercept the projectile and off again. The rune also needs a secondary feeder to recharge the storage component. This way it could even work against threats with a lot of momentum that otherwise would require way more mana than I can channel in a second to counter.


    It will also need a lot of fine-tuning. It can not trigger too soon, too late, or with every fly that passes. I need to adjust the sensor to the incoming velocity of an object and discard everything that moves too slowly to hurt me. I browse through my book. It should be possible to do with a bit of elbow grease.


    I hear a knock on my door. ¡°Mini?¡± Yuileen¡¯s high-pitched voice cleaves through the fissures. ¡°Are you still alive?¡±


    Shit! I store my half-finished design. ¡°Yeah, I am.¡±


    ¡°You should come down to have breakfast.¡± Mumbled giggles contrast with the melody of the rain. ¡°They ordered way too much again.¡±


    ¡°I am coming!¡±


    The gaggle of lordlings greets us before we can step down the stairs.


    ¡°Your Grace!¡±


    ¡°Your Grace!¡±


    ¡°Young mistress!¡± A blond man stands up to move a chair to help me sit down. ¡°Please, have a seat at the table.¡±


    Let¡¯s see if I remember. ¡°Thank you, my Lord.¡± He is the only Lord of the group; the rest are just Sirs. ¡°Most appreciated.¡±


    There is a large spread of food on the table. Fresh-backed buns emit steam and melt the butter smeared over them. They have a selection of jams, pates, cheeses, boiled eggs, crispy bacon, smoked fish, and sausages. To wash it all down you can choose between freshly pressed juice, tea, or ale.


    ¡°Have you tried the black pudding,¡± asks some random Sir. A slim boy with a slightly crooked nose, as if someone had smashed it in, and it didn¡¯t heal in the right way. He points to some wobbly dark mass. A thick and heavy coil of something ancient, smelling of earth and pepper, trapped in a sausage casing. I watch it warily. ¡°You should try it, young Fairy. They say it is a local delicacy.¡±


    Young what? I have enough of all this your Gracyness and other nonesense. Who does he think I am? His godmother?


    Yuileen giggles. The lordlings return to their chatter. I try to tune them out. I am not the only one doing it. Kamoe does the same. She briefly looks up from the corner she sits in, then returns to the book she is reading.


    ¡°So, what do we do today?¡± asks someone. ¡°There is nothing left to see in this town.¡±


    ¡°We could go shopping!¡± exclaims Yuileen in her bubbly and excited manner. Then she looks out of the window, and into the pouring rain. Wafts of mist drift by, swallowing the daylight. She pouts. ¡°Well, if it stops raining.¡± A boy sighs in relief. Everybody turns towards him and he grows red like a tomato. Yuileen rolls her eyes. ¡°I know! Mini, you must come to our room, for you know what.¡± She winks at me.


    ¡°For what?¡± Asks a stubby Sir.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± dismisses Yuileen. ¡°It¡¯s women¡¯s business.¡±


    He looks at us, mouth half-open, seeming flabbergasted. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Not that kind of business,¡± snorts Kamoe, ¡°you pervert.¡±


    Some of the Sirs snicker until Yuileen casts them a stern look, and they return to their meal.


    Yuileen and Kamoe sleep in adjoined rooms that share a big common space. Flames crack and flicker on an open stone hearth in a corner, giving the room a homely and inviting feel. Dry wood burns, smokeless, heavy drops fall through the chimney and fade in the heat with a violent hiss.


    ¡°Sooo,¡± Yuileen looks at me with wide, pleading eyes like a puppy waiting for her treat. ¡°What kind of runes can you inscribe on us?¡±


    I scratch my head. What should I share? What to keep for myself? ¡°Well, there is one called Light-sphere,¡± she doesn¡¯t seem impressed. ¡°Some wards, also deflect-rain, and eternal-spring, which keeps you always warm, and dry-breeze, which keeps you dry?¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Wait?¡± She blinks. ¡°You have a rune to keep the rain away?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me before?¡± She whirls around. ¡°You heard that, Kami? We can go out.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Kamoe looks up briefly before sitting on a leather couch and returning to her book.


    Yuileen takes me by one arm, squealing. ¡°I want all three.¡± She drags me over to the other couch. ¡°Well, the last three you told me.¡± Her eyes glint mischievously. ¡°We are going to make fun of the boys.¡±


    I frown. "All three? That is going to take a while." She could probably use them simultaneously, unlike me. With her higher rank and better mana vortex, her mana regeneration must be through the roof. I take a pot of ink out. Luckily, I remembered to refill one of my small ones. It would be unwieldy and strange to show the bottle-sized ones I got from the alchemist. ¡°Where do you want them?¡±


    Yuileen rubs her chin. ¡°On my shoulders or my back, and one on my belly, somewhere they won¡¯t be visible with my clothes on.¡±


    Where has all the rebellious spirit gone? ¡°Ok, turn over, pull your robe down, and hold still.¡±


    For all her jittery hyperactivity, she is remarkably good at following orders. It is almost like painting on canvas. ¡°And turn over.¡± She watches me finish the last stroke with restrained excitement, almost like she is holding her breath in fear of ruining something. ¡°And finished,¡± I declare.


    She immediately bolts to the other side of the room, fills a glass of water from a jug on a table, and turns it over her head. Drops whirl all around her, without touching her or her clothes, but spilling over the floor.


    ¡°Ups!¡± She watches the wooden planks soak up the puddle, leaving only dark blotches of drenched wood. ¡°This is amazing! Kami, let that book be. You need to get them too!¡±


    ¡°Ok, fine,¡± sighs Kamoe. She puts a marker in her book and leans over.


    ¡°And after that you too, Mini,¡± orders the redhead. ¡°If you don¡¯t have them already. We will be like paired sisters!¡± She comes over to watch me draw on her friend¡¯s skin. ¡°Why is the color different from your runes?¡±


    Should I tell her that mine are dark brown because I used blood to draw them? ¡°I ran out of the other ink¡­ This one is supposed to be better quality and last longer, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well. I liked your ones.¡± She pouts, leans closer, and compares Kamoe¡¯s skin to mine. ¡°This one isn¡¯t bad either, though.¡±


    We stand at the inn¡¯s front door, watching the rain pour.


    ¡°Are you going out, my Ladies,¡± asks the blond Lord. Alexander von Unterhausen is his name, finally, I remember it again.


    ¡°Sure, my Lord, we are going to the market district,¡± declares Yuileen. ¡°To find something to spend our coin on.¡±


    Alexander takes a dubious look outside. ¡°Allow me to escort you.¡± He looks back towards his friends. ¡°The young Sirs will lend you some umbrellas, won¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Whatever her Grace needs.¡±


    ¡°We are at your service.¡±


    ¡°There is no need,¡± interjects Yuileen. ¡°We are prepared.¡±


    Kamoe, snickers. Alexander looks towards us, then at the spatial rings on our fingers. He shrugs, probably thinking that we must have umbrellas ourselves.


    Yuileen steps out, giggling, dragging both of us along.


    ¡°Wait!¡± I hear him exclaiming. Panicked steps follow in our wake. ¡°What are you doing.¡± He stops at the entrance, mouth wide open. He blinks repeatedly, like not believing and trying to dismiss what his eyes are seeing. We three girls stand there, water splashing all around us, but without a single drop on our clothes.


    Yuileen poses like she is standing in a fine ballroom. ¡°Well? Are you coming or not?¡±


    He casts a look at his umbrella and unfolds it. ¡°Sure.¡±


    Guards fall into line around us, looking miserly under the pouring water. Drops clatter onto their armor and flow down into the fissures between plates. Alexander looks miserly, too. The everchanging wind blows the rain into his face, drenching his clothes. His umbrella is nearly useless. Yuileen jumps and dances over the puddles like an overeager goatling. Kamoe strolls along casually. Both remain completely dry. They must be flaring all three ruins in unison, continuously. I am limited to channeling only the deflect-rain rune because my core can¡¯t support more at once. It does its job fine, but the ambient humidity accumulates over time, forcing me to use the dry-breeze rune in short bursts whenever my mana recovers.


    A few people watch us pass by, sheltered from the rain under the roof eaves of the buildings. Some of them have expensive-looking weapons but singed and tattered clothes. Could they be leftovers of my pursuers, survivors of the skirmish and forest fire, finally arriving in town? I feel some of their eyes linger on me, like deciding if I resemble the description of the girl they are looking for. I can feel the gears in their heads turning, taking on our merry group of well-dressed noble ladies and company.


    I lean closer to Yuleen and whisper into her ears. ¡°I think those guys over there are checking you out.¡±


    She looks up, ¡°Who?¡± Her eyes dart all over the place. ¡°Those guys?¡± She stops for a second before stepping around another puddle. ¡°As if they had a chance,¡± she snickers. ¡°What are they even wearing?¡±


    ¡°Make way for her Grace!¡± orders one of our guards. Before shoving one man to the side with his glaive.


    The man stumbles over, falling into the mud. He looks at us, clenching his fist, but doesn¡¯t say a word. The rest of them watch us pass. Then I see them turn away out of the corner of my eyes. They probably decided that I couldn¡¯t be who they were looking for. Didn¡¯t Yuileen say something like that a lot of the Peruvian nobility looked like me? I suppress a grin.


    We arrive at a thankfully dry hall. Local and visiting merchants peddle their wares inside. Alexander falls back to dry himself over an open fire, burning in a metal barrel next to the entrance.


    ¡°Check out this one. It would look nice with your hair.¡±


    ¡°You think so? I don¡¯t know. But that silver pendant with the light green emerald would pair nicely with your eyes.¡± Yuileen and Kamoe seem entranced with the wares of a jeweler.


    Hell, if I understand what the fuss is about. I would fence those away for money and be perfectly happy. My fingers twitch at all the loose purses around me. Don¡¯t! You can not risk exposing yourself by accident. You don¡¯t even need it. I browse through the wares of a bookseller. I hope to find some manual to enhance my mana vortex to copper-rank. They must be commonplace here. Everybody feels higher ranked than that. I shudder. Everybody here would be considered a full-grown mage back in my home city.


    Let us see. There is a lot of romance. I must be in the wrong section.


    Extinct fauna of the central continent. What would that be good for? Next. A treatise on the history of sword fencing. From the Dark Age to the birth of the empire. This could be useful if it had explanations and illustrations of the techniques and footwork. I leaf through the pages. It does not. Just a lot of nonsense. Next. The hidden menace of the Blue men. Who are those? I open it on a random page close to the beginning.


    ¡°It is well known that the unions of a human and an elf, or a human and a dwarf, can both produce offspring. Even though it may be of poor taste, this presents no further complications. Those children, called half-elves, half-dwarves, or half-humans, depending on which race their father was of, suffer from dried and shriveled-up loins. In this way, they are similar to the mule, the result of what happens when you water down the blood of a fine horse with that of a vulgar donkey. This union produces a beast of burden, which also can not produce further offspring. Thus, neither half-elves nor half-dwarves or half-humans represent a danger to the larger society with their dirtied bloodlines.


    What the heck is this? Did a racist write this? I check out the author. Kin Kulin, Imperial minister of bloodline purity. I blink, astonished. They have a minister of what now? It seems like some noble bullshit.


    The vile creatures called Blueman, Bluman, The Pale Men, Golman, Golmin or sometimes Goblin, are different in this regard. The offspring of the dirty union between a human and a bluman produces a hybrid, perfectly capable of continuing to reproduce himself.


    Because of this fact, some ill-disposed scholars have made the outrageous claim that, in reality, humans and blumans are the same race.


    That couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. We call those claims out for what they are. Slanderous lies designed to undermine our society and weaken our bloodlines. Probably invented and spread by the elves in a malicious attempt to hinder us in our journey to become once again the superior race that exists.


    Humans and blumans couldn¡¯t be more different. Where we are a people of the light, the open skies, and cultivation; they are a people of the Underdark, always trying to spill out of the abyss or wherever they manage to tunnel through to the surface. We are a people of complex civilizations, great philosophers and scholars, order and compassion. Whereas, they are a rabble of war parties that, instead of cultivating, dabble in dark magics and live in filth and darkness. They do not even want to come out to live in the light. The frequent border skirmishes are designed to rape and steal, leaving hidden menaces behind in the form of pregnant women.


    The fact that the hybrids they leave behind are capable of having offspring is not because of some nonsense claim that we are the same race. It is because of dark magics cast by their false gods in an attempt to erode the base of our society.


    Thus, we want to make a call for action. The carefully cared for noble bloodlines may not suffer from any problem. But if we want to make our society strong again, we need to purge the dirt out of the common folk, to rinse the infection before it is to late. If we want our society to advance, we need to shed the impurities out of our blood like a cultivator does whenever he increases in rank. That is the only way we¡­


    ¡°What are you reading?¡±


    When did Kamoe appear next to me? ¡°Nothing important, I was just browsing.¡±


    She looks at me, puckering her brows. ¡°Sure.¡± My cheeks feel hot. I must have seemed entranced. That book feels wrong, somehow, like there is something else ongoing. I look at the frame out of the corner of my eyes. Runes cover it. How did I not see them before?


    Yuileen strolls over, saving me from further embarrassment without even realizing it. ¡°Hey, Mini, you haven¡¯t bought anything yet. Isn¡¯t there something you want?¡±


    I ponder over it. I could use more crossbow bolts. Or maybe a bow. My small, foldable crossbow doesn¡¯t seem strong enough to do anything against the foes I¡¯m facing nowadays. Not without the sleeping poison.


    ¡°I could use a bow,¡± I say, ¡°I always wanted to learn archery.¡± Arrows have more surface than crossbow bolts, too. And are thus easier to inscribe with runes.


    ¡°We should go to the local hunters'' lodge for that,¡± proposes Alexander, who has come inside at some moment. ¡°There is a lot of hunting in the local woods. They will have a way greater selection there.¡±


    ¡°Well, what are we waiting for then?¡± asks Yuileen. ¡°Let us go already. I¡¯m bored.¡±

 14-Ice on the river

    The merchant carrack drifts slowly upriver, zigzagging from one bank to the other to catch enough of the fickle wind in its three masts to combat the nearly imperceptible flow of the current. A few times this morning, the wind fell completely still or blew in the wrong direction, forcing the crew to take up long oars and row. Woodsmoke rises into the sky beyond the treeline, giving away the position of hidden villages or hunting parties. I wonder if some of those are hunting me. I smile. Let them search until they die, pesky stalkers. You will not find me.


    We laze around on an elevated deck aft of the ship, hiding from the heat and the afternoon sun under the shadow of the mizzen mast. Most young nobles are half asleep or watch the ducks and swans float by. Yuileen entertains herself by throwing them breadcrumbs, smiling at their antics and excited chatter. I am inscribing my new arrows under the curious glances of Alexander, who seems about to ask me what I am doing.


    ¡°What a stupid game,¡± comments Ivan, the crooked-nosed Sir. He seems adamant about trying to chat up and impress a pointy-chinned noble girl called Eliana de Marcos. A distant relative of Kamoe that we picked up before departing. ¡°He should have moved his rook to the open file. Amateurs.¡±


    She looks down to the middle deck with her large, round eyes. Her pale lips press together. ¡°Hmm.¡± She leans back on the railing and flips open a fan to keep herself fresh. You may be wasting your time, boy.


    I store my arrows away and amble closer to see the game. The guard captain, a middle-aged square-shouldered mountain of a man, is playing the leader of the merchant¡¯s mercenaries. There is tension in the air. The world is standing still, and time has died waiting for a move. The ship, the people, and the birds are just pictures in the background canvas. The calls of a heron that echo over the water are ambient music. The board is the center of reality. Gnarled fingers fall onto a bishop and remain there for a while. The tension reaches a crescendo. The bishop moves, traveling to the opposite side of the board, killing a pawn right next to the black king like a cannonball that fell out of nowhere.


    ¡°No!¡± exclaims Ivan. ¡°What is he doing? He sacrificed another piece for nothing!¡±


    ¡°Turn to starboard! There is a sandbar,¡± orders the captain from somewhere. I blink. The tension cracks like a broken mirror. I can see him standing at the prow, squinting at the shimmering reflection of the low sun on the water. Oars splash through the placid stream. The sails hang flaccid.


    I look back to the board, where the tension is rising again. ¡°Are you a chess aficionado, Sir Kalinich?¡± I ask Ivan.


    ¡°What?¡± The teenage Sir looks up at me, seeming lost for a second. ¡°Yes, young Fairy.¡± Eliana casts me an appreciative glance and exhales a relieved sigh, then turns away to continue fanning herself. ¡°I am proud to say that I am somewhat of a player, too. I won the youth tournament in the city that my dear mother rules.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Nice.¡±


    ¡°I have to say, though, that the quality of the games there is way higher than what you can see here. The players I play against study and follow the modern standards and openings used by all the greatest players that compete in the empire-wide tournament.¡±


    ¡°So, how would you interpret the current position on the board?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You like the game too?¡± His face illuminates, reborn with an injection of new life. ¡°Well, black is winning,¡± he declares. ¡°The last move was idiotic, once the King eats up that bishop, black will have a two-piece advantage. White will not hold out long against that.¡±


    I look at the game. What is he talking about? The mercenary may have the material advantage right now, but the captain has a lot of dynamic compensation. I am not even sure it is a good idea for the black side to eat the bishop. All of the white pieces left are active, prepared to overwhelm the position of the black king. Half of the black pieces are on the wrong side of the board, hindered by their pawns from coming to the rescue. Yeah, I think white is winning.


    The mercenary moves one of his rooks to kill one of the white knights. Leaving it exposed to capture in the white side¡¯s next move. Even material is equal now, though the sacrifice has changed the momentum, giving black enough time to bring the rest of his pieces into play and continue the game. Is it equal now? ¡°Though it feels there is something to it, is there not?¡± I mutter.


    ¡°Hmm, yeah,¡± acknowledges Ivan, ¡°that move seemed strange, but somehow it felt necessary.¡± He rubs his eyes. ¡°What is going on?¡±


    ¡°How did they even arrive in this position?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Oh! Let me explain. They played the Galevian opening. That is when both open up by putting their king pawn into the center, followed by an attack on the black center pawn with the white king-side knight, which then is defended by the black queen-side knight. Then, both developed bishops. White should have followed by playing in the center. That is the current meta. Every serious player plays it. But instead, the guard captain decided to gambit a pawn. Which made him lose a piece later on, but somehow, he managed to hang on until now.¡±


    Another piece moves, seeming to shift the momentum of the game. Now, white is winning again. I replay the explanation Sir Ivan gave me in my mind. The game seems to have gone on like this for quite a while. Every move is crucial, the advantage shifting from side to side without anybody gaining a clear upper hand. That is why it feels so tense. Or maybe it is because both players are high-ranked mages who carry a certain weight with them. It feels like their actions are more real. They have a certain presence that calls for attention. Most non-working mercenaries and crew watch the game, too. Only the nobles ignore it. They must have been exposed to such presences often.


    Thunder roars through the air. The head of the ship captain explodes into a shower of gore like an overripe watermelon after being hit with a stick.


    What is this? Have my pursuers found out about me? About my deception?


    ¡°Bandits!¡± screams someone. The oars fall silent.


    The guard captain and the mercenary jump up, toppling the board over. Chess pieces roll everywhere. Thunder roars again. Something heavy pierces through the sails of the mainmast, leaving a jagged hole in the fabric. ¡°Not bandits, rebels!¡± screams the guard captain. ¡°Get the ship into the center of the river. We are too exposed here. And put the shields up!¡±


    Rebels? They are not my pursuers, then. The tension I was not aware of leaves me. They can¡¯t be. It wouldn''t make sense. Why would they attack me here, surrounded by people, mercenaries, and guards eager to defend their noble patrons?If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Confusion reigns for a while. Finally, the first mate takes over for their dead captain and starts organizing the rowers. The ship drifts away from the closest bank.


    Small boats appear, from the middle of a field of swaying reefs. The ducks and the herons dart away, slicing through the water, before taking to the air and scattering crying out in a wild cacophony. More boats appear, swarming towards us like an army of water striders.


    ¡°?Pfft. They don¡¯t know who they are attacking,¡± snorts Kamoe. She takes out a rune-covered cube out of her spatial ring. A shimmering, translucid shield appears around us.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± agrees Yuileen. ¡°Captain Ander is going to make mincemeat out of them.¡±


    I watch the fight, doubting her words a bit. Right now, the guards and mercenaries are starting to return the fire with volleys of arrows, flinging the occasional flame or ice ball in between. Without much effect, though. They are still too far away, and the few arrows that do not plunge into the water are easily deflected by big metallic shimmering shields the rebels standing in the front of their boats carry. We are not far enough away from their strange metallic sticks, though. They spit fire and metal into the midst of our mercenaries with thundering roars.


    I take out my new bow and the few arrows I managed to inscribe. Let us see. Should I try my attempt at a blinding arrow? The one that has a rune designed to emit a quick burst of bright light triggered by the impact? Or should I try the invisible arrows, which I am sure will work how they should because they use a rune that I have tested multiple times before? They can not block what they don¡¯t see. I should use my invisible arrows.


    ¡°Does the shield work both ways?¡± I ask Kamoe.


    ¡°What?¡± She looks up from the battlefield and takes me in. ¡°Ahh, no. You can shoot out without a problem. Have fun!¡±


    The gaggle of nobles is waking up now. Most of them glance at the incoming boats.


    ¡°Oh! Look at those fools!¡±


    ¡°What do they think they will accomplish.¡±


    ¡°This is what? The third time bandits have attacked us since leaving Deepwater?¡±


    ¡°As if it wouldn¡¯t end up the same.¡± Some snickers.


    Thunder roars, and something cracks against the shield Kamoe activated. A grape-sized metal ball falls onto the ground with a ping and starts rolling over the planks of the deck with each sway of the ship. More snickers and laughter erupt among the nobles.


    ¡°Idiots!¡±


    ¡°They should point towards the merchants if they want to accomplish something.¡±


    ¡°Not that it would do much either now that they lost the advantage of surprise.¡±


    Another booming thunder, a mercenary cries out and falls over the railing. A cloud of darkness tints the waters around him.


    The water comes alive. A dark writing mass surges upward out of the murky depths. Sleek, glinting bodies dart closer with terrifying speed. Silvery bellies flash and reflect the sunlight. They fall over the poor man all at once. A ruthless frenzy of snapping jaws and thrashing fins rips and tears the poor man apart. He tries to reach onto an oar, panicked eyes wide open. But his blood-soaked hands slip over the wood, and he falls back and disappears into the crimson, frothing waters. I shudder. Nobody seems to care or be overly concerned about it. They are mere spectators of a show, there to amuse. The worries of the common folk are beneath them.


    I shudder and step closer to the railing, to the limit of the shimmering shield. It buzzes and grows more solid briefly. Another metal ball falls onto the planks, robbed of its momentum. Now could be a good opportunity to test the shield I designed myself, too. No. I can¡¯t risk for it to fail. I have no idea how well it works. I need a partner to test it out. I need someone to shoot at me in a less stressful and not lethal situation. But there isn¡¯t anyone here I trust enough to show them all my cards. I should keep a few of them hidden, just in case.


    I stand with one foot slightly forward, trying to balance out the moving ship and steady my aim. I nock and activate the invisibility effect of the arrow. I point a few degrees above my target to account for the drag of gravity, and then I draw. The wood creaks faintly under the strain. I breathe in and turn out all noise, all the chatter and distractions. There is only the bow, the arrow, and my swaying target. I feel the taut string against my fingertips. My arms are steady. My eyes narrow in focus and follow my mark. My body sways with the waves until everything aligns. I release the string like The Crow taught me so long ago. Just a soft caress that surrenders the carefully held tension. The string snaps free, and the stored power surges forward. Only a hiss marks the path of the invisible arrow, slicing through the air. I feel the string rebound. The bow vibrates like a guitar. For a heartbeat, I remain still. My fingers tingle from the sudden absence. I hold my breath, eager to see my target stumble and plunge into the water.


    My arrow reappears, smashed into the hull of the boat. I can see the man I targeted lean forward, taking the still-vibrating shaft in. He looks up towards the ship, then finally remembers to shield himself. I would have caught him by surprise, but my shot went a few feet too low. Darn! I should have practiced with my new bow before to discover its quirks.


    ¡°Nice shot,¡± praises Alexander. I flinch. When did he come so close to me? ¡°And a nice effect on the arrows.¡± He takes another one out of my quiver and studies the runes. ¡°How does it work? Can I try?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I hold the bow towards him. He takes it, brushing his hand on mine. Was that intentional? ¡°Emm, just pulse a bit of mana here to activate the rune before shooting.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± He winks at me. I turn away. Is he trying to flirt? ¡°Huh? This bow has a lot of draw strength. You are stronger than you appear, Minae.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± asks some guy. ¡°Do you think she is stronger than me?¡±


    ¡°How should I know?¡± Alexander takes a shooting stance. ¡°She is strong if she can draw this. Well, strong for a girl.¡±


    Some idiot snickers. Prick! Both of them are pricks.


    The string snaps forward with a ting. A second later, one of the rebels or bandits catches his stomach and stumbles backward into the water. What the heck? How did he manage that on the first try? People around us whistle, holler, and applaud.


    ¡°That¡¯s how you do it!¡±


    Another invisible arrow flies. Another bandit stumbles and falls a second later. Okay, I give up, he is really good. He must practice regularly.


    I take in the wider scene, the rest of the battle. The Guard captain stands on an ice board, surfing over the river. More ice forms all around him. A towering figure clad in armor full of glowing runes darts towards him. Walking on the surface of the water as if it is solid ground. They start to fight it out between themselves. Ice and lightning fly left and right. A sword crashes against a glaive. The well-armored bandit realizes that the guard has the advantage of reaching there, so he ducks back and tries to create distance in a blur, but the guard follows close behind. Their clash takes them further and further away until they are just distant blurs.


    Meanwhile, the leader of the mercenaries waves his arms, standing on the bowsprit. Waves of river water rise all around him, higher and higher, following the movement of his arms. I feel like I am watching the conductor of an orchestra. Disoriented fishes whirl around, suddenly finding themselves in the air. Some of them land on the deck and flap around in panic, trying to escape back into their natural habitat. The bare muscles of the mercenary¡¯s arms tense, pointing straight into the sky. The water swirls together into an immense wave, higher than the mainmast. Then he pushes his arms down, and the waves rush outwards like a tsunami, swallowing and toppling all the incoming boats.


    A few seconds later, the guardian captain tosses a beaten, deformed metal can, hiding a bleeding and unconscious man, onto the main deck.


    ¡°I got the bastard. Let us see if he can tell us how those bastards got here.¡± He kicks the destroyed breastplate. Runes spark and sputter out. The rebel doesn¡¯t move. ¡°Well, once he wakes up.¡± The guard captain looks up, taking in the crowd gaping at him. ¡°What are you all looking at? Move! We are running late already.¡±


    ¡°Emm, Sir Knight,¡± mumbles the first mate, looking terrified.


    ¡°What?¡± grunts Captain Ander.


    ¡°They killed the captain.¡±


    ¡°So? That means you are the captain now. Go on, organize your sailors.¡± The middle-aged man darts away and starts shouting orders. ¡°And someone, please volunteer to pull that rebel out of his can and bind him with mana-suppressing shackles. We need answers.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t he cool?¡± whispers Kamoe.


    I look at the scraps and pieces of the once-imposing armor. I would love to study the runes that have survived. Can I swipe it away, somehow? I could volunteer to peel the man out of the can, as the captain ordered. No, that is a job for the hired hands. It would be unbecoming of a Lady. I don¡¯t want to draw too much attention to myself. Let us hope to find something similar another time when I don¡¯t have to play a role.

 15-What are you doing here?

    The way how that bandit leader stepped over the water makes me envious. I don¡¯t have any rune to improve my mobility. Can I design something to imitate him? I have no idea how he even did it. Did he make himself less dense? Probably not. He also didn¡¯t freeze the water like the Guard Captain.  Did he increase the surface tension of the water somehow? I have no idea how to create such an effect with my rune components. If it is that, there is nothing I can do.


    What else could it be? What if he stepped on the air?


    I am an idiot. A sudden thought strikes me like a spark on a dry tinder. My breath hitches. I can feel my pulse hammering in my veins.


    I should be able to step on one of my active shields. Of course.


    My fingers tighten around my notebook. How did I not think of this earlier?


    I scan the ship¡¯s deck. No one is looking at me. No one is close enough to ask me uncomfortable questions about what I am doing. Well, it is not like my tattoos are a secret. But I would like to keep the extent of my abilities under wrap.


    The nobles are watching a group of pink dolphins jumping over the shimmering river under the golden light of the rising sun. Dolphins? What? What are they doing in a river? I thought they were creatures of the ocean. Whatever, don¡¯t get distracted.


    I open my notebook, nearly ripping out a page by accident. Where is my non-magical ink? Here it is. I start to sketch furiously.


    A sphere will be useless. I need a plane, a circular plane. And I need to orientate it horizontally to the ground to be able to step on it. Or maybe not. If I project it perpendicularly to the bottom of my feet, I won¡¯t slip if I step at an angle. It could even let me modify the direction of my movement mid-air with a bit of practice. What else do I need for my future air step rune? Efficiency. I should adjust the size to the minimum required to step on.


    Shit! More runes to draw on or close to my feet. I¡¯ll probably have to choose between using them or my shock absorber runes. I could replace those. Airstepping should let me interrupt my fall, too. Or I could keep both, even if I can not activate them simultaneously, just in case.


    A bundle of blond hair appears beneath the deck and strolls toward us. ¡°Hey, Lord Alexander! Did they finish interrogating the prisoner?¡± asks some random noble. ¡°Did they discover what the rebels are doing here?¡±


    People turn towards the newcomer, forgetting about the dolphins. I close my notebook with a clap to listen in. Yuileen¡¯s eyes dart towards me because of the noise. She smiles. Other people look at me, too. I suddenly feel exposed. I am not a part of the background anymore. But the anticipation of gossip proves stronger than the meager interest my lonely figure may stir up, and they turn back towards the blond teenager.


    He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and steps closer, dragging his boots over the wooden deck. He sighs. The nobles gather around him, their faces expectant. The air is thick with the scent of fish and algae, lingering under a quiet tension.


    Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the dolphins still dancing through the water like spirits. A large pale one jumps out, describing an arc, but then playfully twists mid-leap, catching the light in a pearly flash before disappearing again under the murky waters. Others follow him, weaving between each other. Their streamlined bodies flicker just above the waterline. For a moment, they all disappear into fading ripples, a sudden void, and a sensation of loss. Then, they resurface. Misty plumes rise into the humid air. Their high-pitched laughter trills over the river. One is in the process of swallowing a silver-glittering trout.


    Alexander exhales sharply, demanding back my attention. How long did he keep us waiting? Isn¡¯t he a drama queen? Or king?


    ¡°They broke him,¡± he says, his voice low but steady. A shadow crosses his face. His eyes seem a bit sunken and haunted. ¡°It took them a while, but he cracked. Said they were looking for some artifact one of their leaders obtained but then lost in the forest by the feet of the mountain range.¡±


    ¡°What kind of artifact? Something like those Thundersticks?¡± asks Sir Kalinich. He was the only one still watching the dolphins. Now, he turns, leaning against the railing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He babbled something about some compass before passing out.¡±


    Cold sweat trickles down my spine. What? That can¡¯t be a coincidence. But then, who is that rebel leader who supposedly lost it? Could it be the mage-baron I stole it from? Are the rebels everybody is talking about from the Solarian Kingdom? But I have never heard about something similar to those metal and fire-spitting sticks in my home city.


    Silence has settled over the group as they exchange glances. I see a glimmer of recognition in Sir Kalinich and Eliana. They choose to remain silent, though.


    Yuileen giggles. ¡°They came all the way here for a compass. Seriously? You can get one of those everywhere.¡± Some nobles snicker. Sir Kalinich remains silent, his eyes darting around nervously.


    ¡°Maybe it is some kind of family heirloom,¡± interjects Kamoe, stirring up the air around her face with an embroidered fan. Eliana leans back, snaps open a similar fan, and imitates her. Acting like the conversation stopped to interest her. ¡°It may have some sort of sentimental value.¡±


    Yuileen snorts. ¡°I would have never thought that rebels of all people cared about something like that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± mutters some random noble whose name I forgot or never cared to learn. ¡°But if it is in the forest, what were they doing here by the river?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± answers Alexander, tying his shoulder-long hair back into a ponytail. ¡°He said something about losing the trail and getting stranded here without a way back. And because they didn¡¯t know what to do, they decided to stir up some trouble.¡± He pauses and strokes his nearly inexistent beard, like trying to remember the last details. ¡°Said something about relieving the war front.¡±


    ¡°How did they even get this far into the heart of the empire without anyone recognizing them?¡± asks Kamoe, snapping her fan closed.


    ¡°You ask me, but who should I ask?¡±


    I carefully gaze over the crowd, trying to discern if someone could be on to me. Does anyone look at me differently? It doesn¡¯t seem that way. Eliana and Sir Kalinich, who seem to know the compass, don¡¯t even look my way. Maybe they only know what the compass is but not when and where it got stolen or who stole it. Or even that it was stolen.


    Could all my pursuers through that forest have been rebels? No, there were different factions, or they wouldn¡¯t have started battling each other just because of a few missing items. If one of those groups were these rebels everybody is talking about, who were the rest? And why didn¡¯t they start fighting as soon as they saw each other if they were at war?


    ¡°A fisher boat!¡± exclaims someone. ¡°Those triangular sails¡­ We must be getting close to Minas Kalin!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Finally, I can¡¯t wait to sleep in a real bed.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, yeah, ship traveling accommodations always leave to be desired.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, even the servants that work at my family¡¯s manor enjoy better sleeping conditions. My back is stiff like a board.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I tune the chatter out, not caring much about this turn in their conversation. They are being ridiculous. The cabins here are bigger and more luxurious than most rooms back home in the crafting district. Maybe not more like those in the wealthy part of town, but what did they expect? It¡¯s a ship. Space is limited. The merchant also needs it to store his wares. He may have storage rings for the most valuable cargo, but most of the bulk is too voluminous.


    ¡°Look!¡± exclaims Yuileen. ¡°You can already see the canyon. We are nearly there!¡± She turns towards me. Her eyes sparkle. ¡°Mini! You said you had never been to Minas Kalin before, did you not?¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Excellent! We must take you on a tour before your relatives lock you up in their manor with all that clan business and nonsense.¡± She squeals and catches Kamoe and me, each by one forearm. ¡°Come, let¡¯s get to the front. The view when you enter the lake is amazing!¡±


    We walk and get dragged all over the ship in her bubbling excitement, leaving the rest of the nobles behind. What lake is she even talking about?


    For now, all there is to see are the riverbanks rising higher over the waterline, getting more abrupt. Grassland gives way to shrubs and grey granite boulders. Quartz veins glint through them under the still-rising sun.


    The carrack drifts forward, spurred on by the rhythmic beat of the oars. They are not rowing because the current got faster, but because a fresh breeze is blowing into our faces. Bare-chested men are furling the sails up so they don¡¯t hinder our advancement. More fisherboats drift by. Some of the people on them greet us.


    The carrack advances into the hush of the canyon. The river narrows a bit, but the walls of this canyon are much further apart than those of the mountain rivers I climbed around last week. They are much higher, too. Towering stone walls rise like silent sentinels on either side, casting our passage into shadows. The once bold wind is quietening into a mere whisper that hushes the creaks of the wooden hull. The slaps of the oars echo over the waterline. The dolphins have fallen behind at some moment. Now, only salmon and armlong trout glitter under the crystal-clear waters.


    We pass a bend in the canyon, only to discover more walls and further bends. The current is increasing in intensity and laps against the wood of the ship¡¯s prow.


    More and more shadows drape the deck as the cliffs swallow the daylight. The scars of centuries streak their face. Cave mouths yawn everywhere.


    And then, the daylight completely disappears, and we are funneled into darkness, a tunnel carved by time and water, its entrance a gaping maw in the rock.


    Suddenly, I can hear the echoes of the loud, whispering nobles because the oars have grown still. I blink. The ship is still advancing, though. The darkness gives way to flickering torches, illuminating paths carved into the stone on both sides.


    The crew moves over the ship in hushed efficiency, igniting our lanterns along the railings. Their golden glow pools across the deck as the carrack slips into the void.


    I can see how we are advancing now. Someone threw ropes from both sides, and the crew hitched them onto prepared hooks. They are used to drag us along with the help of towering beasts of burden, breathing and sweating heavily.


    The walls close in further, nearly scratching the hull. The air feels damp here, thick with the scent of manor and minerals. Echoing drops fall over the deck from the unseen heights above. Individual notes sing a song, almost like a prelude to rain.


    Then, as suddenly as we enter, the tunnel splits open into a vast, breathless expanse. A sea of blueness unfurls before us, reflecting the light into the open sky. The ropes fall off, loosened by the crew. The panting animals fall back, and the rowers start beating their oars again, but not before a group of armored people jumps onto the deck.


    ¡°Halt!¡± One of them opens his visor, revealing a thin-lipped man with a bushy beard. ¡°Documentation, please.¡± The ship comes to a standstill.


    What documentation? Do we need documentation? Why has nobody told me about it? Shit! Do I need to slip away? I am about to turn invisible but then stop. What if one of them is advanced enough to have that soul sense Yuileen talked about? I would even stand out more. I blink. Why has none of the nobles moved? Kamoe is leaning against the railing. Her eyes seem lost on the emerald green slopes and meadows that cover the shore. Yuileen hops around impatiently, acting as if all this is just a nuisance that has nothing to do with her, a waste of time. Maybe they mean the ship¡¯s documentation, a merchant¡¯s permit, or a list of the cargo we carry. It would be ridiculous for people to have individualized documentation like we were property or something. Right?


    The merchant stumbles closer, nearly falling over, trying to match the fast-paced steps of our guard captain that accompanies him.


    ¡°Ander?¡± asks the thin-lipped sentry. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you lot have arrived days ago?¡±


    ¡°We encountered some troubles that delayed us,¡± answers our guard captain. He leans closer and whispers something into the other man¡¯s ears.


    ¡°Shit!¡± swears the thin-lipped man. A shadow seems to fall over his face. I¡¯ll need to go to report that.¡± He turns around to address the rest of the men he brought up onto our ship. ¡°Let them through. They are on the list and cleared for passage anyway. It¡¯s the merchant¡¯s carrack of Count Avonia¡¯s fleet. The one that was missing.¡± He turns in our direction and dips an imaginary hat. ¡°Ladies.¡±


    Some crew members unfurl the sails again to catch the playful breeze and give our rowers more time to rest their tired muscles.


    We zigzag into the ribbons of mist that curl lazily over the open water of the lake''s center.


    Suddenly, we are through, and my mouth falls wide open. There is a city, the mother of all cities. Rows after rows of white-washed buildings rise from the shoreline to the heights of the mountains surrounding the lake.


    Yuileen giggles. Our eyes meet. ¡°It¡¯s incredible. Right?¡± I clap my mouth shut. ¡°They say that eight million people live in Minas Kalin.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I blink and step back, trying to process what she just said. How can so many people live in the same place?


    ¡°It¡¯s the third biggest city of the empire,¡± adds Kamoe. ¡°And in my opinion, the most beautiful one. The Emperor¡¯s summer palace is here. And a lot of other incredible manors and ancient monuments.¡±


    And there are even bigger ones? How? More people live in just this city than in the whole Solarian Kingdom. What are those rebels thinking about? If we Solarians are the rebels that everyone talks about. Wait! She said the Emperor lived here too or something like that, didn¡¯t she? I don¡¯t need to meet him, thank you. Powerful figures can bring trouble to you on a whim. Where in the seven hells does my compass point at? My fingers itch, eager to take it out and check. But I need to find some privacy first. There is no privacy anywhere close by. Hundreds of other ships welcome us into the docks.


    Yuileen has decided to drag us into a bustling market street that I absolutely need to know, in her opinion.


    My eyes fall upon a pair of street rats weaving through the crowd, cutting purses with practiced dexterity. They stay clear of our group, wary of the towering guards Captain Ander sent with us.


    My usual role may have reversed, but this place still feels familiar. Even though the sheer size of the market is a bit overwhelming. It hums with life, a sprawling maze of colorful tents and noisy crowds pressed between the towering buildings of the city. The sharp tang of spices hangs thick in the air, mingling with the scents of fresh bread and roasting meat. Merchants bellow their wares. Their haggling voices rise over the chorus of inane chatter and laughter.


    Yuileen drags us through the chaos with a practiced air of confidence, lifting her silken skirt just enough to avoid the grease stains and rests of fruit covering some cobblestones. We cut through the crowd like the ship we just left did through the churning waters of the river.


    ¡°Come, I know an artificer on the other side of the market who incorporates his creations into stunning jewelry.¡±


    ¡°Are you looking for jewels, fine ladies?¡± Some merchant has listened in and is now trying to divert our attention to his wares, waving at them with his arms. ¡°I have gold and silver filigree. Every piece is unique, the work of a real dwarf. Rings and necklaces with finely carved sapphires and emeralds. They would look great with your eyes, young lady.¡±


    Yuileen scoffs. ¡°As if.¡±


    ¡°He does have a point,¡± interjects Kamoe. These gems have the same color as your eyes.¡± She runs her hand through a mountain of stones and trinkets, letting them fall between her fingers. Then she smirks. ¡°But I think they are just colored glass.¡±


    ¡°No touching,¡± cries the merchant, wobbling closer. ¡°What? Glass? Baseless slander! I say. If you are not buying, move on, or I will call the guards.¡±


    Yuileen snickers and casts the merchant a dazzling smile, looking over his shoulder. The man turns around and comes face to face with one of our fully armored and towering guardians. His mouth gaps open, then he looks at us, making the connection, and it falls closed again.


    ¡°I mean. Stay as long as you like and check my wares, your Grace.¡± With an agility belying his stubby legs, he shrinks back into the shadow of his stall.


    ¡°Come on, stop dawdling,¡± grumbles Yuileen. ¡°There is nothing useful to find in this market sector.¡±


    Kamoe laughs and plucks a ripe, orange-pink peach from a basket, tossing a coin to the vendor. ¡°Okay, but why the hurry?¡±


    ¡°There is so much to see, and we don¡¯t know how much time Mini will have with all the stuff going on in her family.¡±


    I suddenly freeze. Just a few paces away, leaning against the corner of a building, is someone who I would never expect to encounter in this place.


    ¡°Dogface,¡± I mutter. How? What the heck is he doing here?


    I close my eyes, trying to dismiss his image. When I open them again, he is still there. This makes no sense! Nobody of us knew about this city or even this whole empire. What is happening? Yuileen is saying something. Her words flow in and out of my consciousness, just incomprehensible noise. Dogface winks at me. Then he steps back and disappears around the corner.


    A kid brushes against me and disappears into the crowd. I can feel a piece of paper left behind in my hand.

 16-The Miniboss

    Bihaind di blu tempel at mitnigd.


    I read Dogface¡¯s note for a third time. Then I crumble it in my fist and set it aflame with a fancy lighter I got on the market. I never want to be unable to start a fire out in the wilds again.


    The place was easy to find. Only one gigantic blue-colored building towers over the surrounding houses in this city. I seem to be at the limit between a middle-class district and the more impoverished sectors of town. Behind the temple means just over the wall that separates both districts. I slip through a guarded doorway, clad in invisibility. None of the sentries notice me.


    I step into a side alley to reappear where the guards can¡¯t see me. The streets are empty at this hour of the night. Nothing moves except a few rats darting into the shadows, scared of my sudden materialization out of thin air.


    I scrunch my nose. The stench of decay and waste clings to the narrow alleyways like a sickness. The air is thick with the mingling scents of unwashed bodies, cheap ale, and rotten fish. Mud squelches beneath my boots. Well, mud and whatever else is mixed in there. It feels familiar and alien at the same time. Almost as if I didn¡¯t belong to a place like this any longer after spending so much time immersed in the pure air of the wilderness. I shove the thought out of my mind. Don¡¯t get picky.


    I stroll further behind the temple, around crooked and decomposing wooden doorways and missing cobblestones. Dogface is nowhere in sight. It must be too early. It was easy to slip away from Yuileen and Kamoe once the tiredness of the journey caught up to them, and they went to sleep. I would have gone to sleep, too. My eyelids are falling closed every time my attention wanders. But I need to know what Dogface is doing here.


    Did The Crow send him to help me find my way back? I would choose nearly everybody else after that chaotic failure of a heist we went on. I don¡¯t even know why The Crow insisted on sending him with me into that castle. Dogface might be a decent enforcer because he can be somewhat intimidating when he wants to. But he is too clumsy and careless when there is a need to be subtle. Sometimes, he can be more of a hindrance than a help.


    Scratch that. He isn¡¯t the brightest rat in the streets, even as an enforcer. He is a loyal dog, though, always trying to get The Crow¡¯s attention. He practically adores and would die for our boss.


    I should have gone alone. I would have been able to do the job alone way easier and cleaner. Did The Crow send Dogface with me because he doesn¡¯t trust me enough? Maybe he feared I would discover what that compass was good for and decide to keep it instead of finishing the job. What if the presence of Dogface here is not to help me find my way back but to rein me in? I shudder, a disturbing thought.


    I wiggle my spatial ring off my finger and hide it inside my cheek like a hamster. It¡¯s slim enough not to stand out nor hinder my vocalization.


    Someone shrieks in some alley. Faint laughter rings in my ears and then goes quiet again. Someone whistles behind me. I turn around. Dogface has arrived in the company of a pair of pock-faced thugs, so similar to each other that they can¡¯t be anything but twins.


    ¡°Joo, Kivi,¡± he greets me. A grin splits his face from ear to ear. ¡°Fancy company you keep these days. I barely even recognized you in that outfit.¡±


    ¡°I had to adapt. You know how it is,¡± I answer. I feel a bit wary. Why has he not come alone? ¡°Maybe I can make a side gig out of it.¡±


    One of the twins snickers. The other one pokes around in his nose. ¡°Your friend has guts, Dogface. Most stay away from the fancy kind of people.¡±


    ¡°That, or a lack of common sense,¡± mutters Dogface, barely audibly.


    Excuse me?


    ¡°How did you even come here?¡± I ask, leaving unsaid that I don¡¯t know how he even knew where to find me. ¡°It¡¯s not like it is easy to arrive.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that.¡± He looks around, like searching if somebody could be eavesdropping on us. ¡°I came with The Crow.¡±


    I blink. What? My entire worldview threatens to crumble. I feel like I am standing on cracking ice. The Crow never leaves my hometown! Well, not for long. He sends people for whatever he needs. Or at least he used to. The world I am familiar with seems fragile, suddenly, like a mirror reflecting a distorted reality, about to break and burst apart into the unknown.


    ¡°What is The Crow doing here?¡± I ask, trying to find some sense to grasp, to anchor me.


    ¡°Well.¡± Dogface looks at me, grinning again. ¡°He took over the local gangs.¡±


    ¡°He did what?¡± I blink again. Did I hear that right?


    ¡°Your boss was amazing!¡± exclaims one of the Twins, gesticulating wildly. One of his arms impacts his brother¡¯s hand, who grunts because the ball of snot he was playing with goes flying. Charming lad. ¡°He went into all the gang headquarters and sent the heads of their bosses tumbling down the streets.¡± He did what? ¡°There is only one big gang now, the Crow gang.¡±


    I look at Dogface, asking him with my eyes without emitting a word.


    ¡°You can believe him,¡± he says. ¡°We are all here now. The Crow brought everybody over.¡±


    I step back, trying to take it all in. Since when did The Crow fight in person? ¡°Wait, you said they are all here now. Why didn¡¯t Dante come to meet me?¡±


    ¡°Well, you see¡­¡± Dogface looks down, suddenly meek and sheepish. No! A clump forms in my chest, heavy like lead, weighing me down. No! ¡°He didn¡¯t make it.¡±


    I gasp, my breath stolen. My mind is plunging into darkness. ¡°Fuck,¡± I mutter. Something fundamental collapses inside me, leaving a hollow space that slips through my fingers like smoke. ¡°Dante¡­ How?¡±


    I can feel Dogface¡¯s gaze falling on me, judging my reaction. Does he even care? ¡°Well, you know when those guards realized something was amiss?¡± I do, for sure. It¡¯s his fault they found out about us that soon. Hot fury ignites inside me, battling for supremacy with the numbness that has swallowed the echoes of the memories of Dante¡¯s voice. ¡°The bastards were hot on our heels until they got wind of you. We managed to slip through to the tower where your rope was, you know?¡± He looks at me, searching for a reaction. I only stay there, frozen. Only part of my attention remains with him. ¡°I told him we had to bolt, but he was stubborn. Said we had to wait for you. I told him it was stupid, that he could wait¡­ That we could wait once we got down and away from the castle. But he decided to stay back.¡± I remain silent, lips pressed together. ¡°Then a guard saw him, and he had to race down the wall in a hurry like I told the idiot. But he wasn¡¯t fast enough, and the guard cut the cord when he was halfway down.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    The fire roars inside my mind, at Dogface, at The Crow, at me, yearning to burn me in my failures and careless decisions. I should have been stricter instead of listening to Dogface on that heist. No! No! It¡¯s not my fault. If it is someone¡¯s fault, it is The Crow¡¯s for not trusting me and sending me alone. The fire sputters and fades, leaving only dying embers simmering in the cold emptiness. My stolen breath returns in a wheeze.


    ¡°Who¡¯s this Dante guy?¡± asks twin number one.


    ¡°Just some dude we knew.¡± Dogface makes a dismissive wave with his hand. The embers nearly reignite. ¡°Not a bad lad, you could count on him, but he did rat us out in the end before biting the dust.¡± His boots squelch in the mud as he steps closer to a building and leans against it. He wipes and shakes his boots against the uneven wall, barely getting them cleaner before stepping back into the street. ¡°We should go. The guards by the door to the fancy side of town are too close.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± I rasp.


    ¡°To the base.¡± Dogface looks around the corner and starts stepping and slipping through the mud further into the slums. He looks back briefly to check if we are following him. I realize I am following him out of pure inertia, still distraught. The twins have fallen in behind me, boxing me in. Why do they walk so close? Don¡¯t they know about personal space? ¡°You still got that thing The Crow wanted, right Kivi?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I mutter.


    ¡°Good.¡± His face seems to brighten. He stands straighter as if a weight has fallen off of his shoulders. ¡°The Crow isn¡¯t here right now, but the Miniboss is. He will know what to do.¡± The twins snicker at some unspoken joke.


    Miniboss does seem ridiculous as a monicker. I have no idea who that is supposed to be. A new lieutenant, in all likelihood. A survivor of the locals? We shuffle forward between the shadows. There aren¡¯t any street lights here, only the odd wandering rays of brightness that reach over from other parts of town.


    ¡°So, what happened when this Dante guy sang?¡± asks twin number two, shuffling through the mud, a bit too close for my comfort.


    ¡°Well, The Crow¡¯s name got out, and they started to search for him downtown.¡± Dogface stops and looks back towards us. ¡°The funny thing is that ¡®twas The Crow that led the search party for himself.¡± Both twins snicker. ¡°He only had to silence a few people who knew his face.¡± More snickers. ¡°It still got too hot there, though. That is why we all came here, I think.¡± The twins grunt in acknowledgment.


    That must be why The Crow came to this city out of a million places where he could have tried to establish himself. I suppress a snort. Once I give him his stupid compass, I¡¯ll step out. I am sick of this, of this life, of being kept in the dark. Maybe I can continue to pretend to be a noble for a while, let my new acquaintances pamper me, and then go somewhere where I only need to rely on myself, where I can tinker with runes in peace, evolve my gathering vortex to get stronger because you need to be strong enough to defend your freedom in a pinch. Now that Dante is gone, what else is keeping me here? The Crow? I snort. He will only care about me as long as he has a use for my skills.


    Dogface guides us into an alley and weaves between heaps of rotten planks, some nailed together, some falling apart. He lifts and shoves a few out of the way, revealing a hidden, rust-covered trapdoor. It swings open on oiled hinges, revealing a staircase going downwards. A wrinkled face appears, greets us with a grunt, and vanishes back into the shadows.


    A waft of stale air welcomes me inside. It reeks of damp wood, spilled alcohol, and people keeping close together like cattle. Under it hides the distant smell of ammonia and decay, indicating that there must be an entrance into the sewers somewhere. Are there even sewers here in the slums? It may be just the outside. Flickering torches cast shadows across warped and soot-covered beams and sagging shelves cluttered with rubbish, from rusted daggers to half-empty bottles and broken glasses.


    Voices mumble in the shadows. Jagged faces turn towards us. Sharp and feral eyes take me in, then shift away after seeing who accompanies me. Hands shift idly near bad-hidden blades. Maybe they want you to know they are armed. They look like they should know how to hide them.


    Dogface guides me into a backroom. The stench of sewers is harsher here, hitting me like a physical blow. It smells of rot, waste, and dead rats festering in stagnant waters somewhere in the dark. I may have to throw the clothes I am wearing away or rip them apart and keep them as rags. A shame. This is my invisibility set, a waste of good ink. I¡¯ll never get enough of the stench out for people not to notice me in the nicer parts of town.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± commands Dogface. ¡°I¡¯m gonna fetch the Miniboss.¡±


    The twins snicker. I lean back against the wall. At least it is a solid stone wall here, not more rotten planks.


    Dogface reappears in the company of a slim young man clad in fine-tailored black leather. I take his scrunched nose and scowling face in. He can¡¯t be more than a few years older than me.


    ¡°Ugh,¡± he grunts, face a picture of disgust. Our eyes meet for a brief moment. Then he looks back towards Dogface. ¡°Is this the bitch that tried to steal my future?¡±


    What now? First, rude. Second, what in the seven hells is he talking about?


    Dogface grunts in acknowledgment. What is this? A setup?


    The man rushes over and pins me to the wall without warning and holds each of my arms beside one of my ears. ¡°Where is it?¡± he hisses. His breath washes over my face, stinking of beer and shellfish.


    ¡°The what?¡± I try to free myself, but he is physically stronger than me, and I don¡¯t have much leverage. Should I knee him in the balls? No, keep calm. ¡°Who the heck even are you?¡±


    He blinks. His grip loosens up a bit. ¡°You are saying you don¡¯t know who I am?¡± He turns towards the other three men, dropping one of my arms. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you told her who I am?¡±


    ¡°He is The Crow¡¯s nephew,¡± clarifies Dogface. ¡°He is¡­¡±


    The young man whirls around towards me. ¡°I¡¯m the Dark Prince,¡± he interjects, pointing at his chest with his free hand. Dogface scowls behind him, seeming frustrated for some reason. The twins hold their bellies, reining laughter into silence.


    Now that I think of it, there does seem to be a resemblance between him and The Crow and with Dogface, too. I nearly gasp as my mind makes the connection. Are they all related? I would have never thought that The Crow and Dogface were family. But maybe they are. It¡¯s not the nose, the chin, or even the cheekbones that are similar between all three of them, but their relatively small forehead and how their eyebrows seem to touch each other, even if The Crow and this Dark Prince guy shave the area above their nose.


    ¡°And that should mean something to me?¡± I ask.


    Something hot erupts beside my face. A blue flame flickers between the man¡¯s fingers. He is a mage then. ¡°Be careful how you address me, wench.¡± He starts to pat me down with surprisingly soft and manicured hands. They progressively grow eager and frustrated, pinching and grasping around my belly. ¡°Where is it?¡±


    ¡°Where is what?¡±


    He looks up at me. ¡°The compass, you idiot! Are you dumb?¡±


    ¡°He is the client for our job,¡± Dogface tries to shed light on my confusion, which I am not entirely faking.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I mutter. Wait. What? The compass is for him, not for The Crow himself or some noble who paid through the nose for it. Don¡¯t tell me that I suffered all this time for this prick. You know what? He can go and fuck himself. The Crow, too. I¡¯ll keep it for myself and find out what all the fuss is about.


    I swallow my spatial ring down. A bit of stomach acid won¡¯t damage it. They are designed to survive a hell of a beating. It may even seem that I am just swallowing out of fear. ¡°I hid the compass,¡± I lie, keeping eye contact and a straight face, how The Crow taught me. ¡°It is way too hot of an item to carry with you all the time.¡±


    Flames come to life again, burning close to my face. My hair coils and singes under the abuse. ¡°Where?¡± I try to flinch back, but the wall is still there.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mar her face, Kevin.¡± For some reason, Dogface comes to my rescue. ¡°The Crow won¡¯t like it.¡±


    Kevin the Miniboss scoffs, but his flames sputter out. He takes a step back, suddenly seeming a bit wary. ¡°She still needs to tell us where she hid it.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s in the forest close to a town, a few days of travel downriver.¡±


    ¡°What town?¡±


    ¡°Well, err,¡± I mutter, twiddling my thumbs. ¡°I never thought about getting the name. I had other worries.¡± Kevin looks at me like I¡¯m useless. ¡°It¡¯s not hard to find, though. It¡¯s the first bigger town on the left side of the river from here out.¡±


    ¡°Liminea, then,¡± mutters the dark-clad man. ¡°That¡¯s a problem. It will cost time and money to make up an excuse to get us through the tunnel.


    ¡°You¡¯ll still need me to show you where in the forest I hid it,¡± I pretend to remind him. ¡°Or you will be searching for ages.¡± I need to keep my value high.


    He seems to have nearly forgotten about me and paces around the room, muttering. ¡°We will need to bribe the guards that guard the passage towards Cherry-blossom Valley again. There is no way we can be back before their watch-turn rotates.¡± He stops at the entrance and looks back at us. ¡°Lock her up ¡®til I or The Crow says otherwise,¡± he commands. ¡°I need to get us a ship.¡±

 17-Soft steps

    The iron door groans. Rusted hinges scream in protest, wailing like long-forgotten ghosts, lingering spirits left to decay. Then it slams shut, sending a shudder through the cold stone floor, leaving me alone in the darkness. Chains clank somewhere distant, followed by a soft click reverberating through my cell like a hammer strike in a courtroom.


    I wait a few heartbeats for the heavy steps to go silent, then channel my light sphere to illuminate my surroundings.


    The planks that form a cot that covers half of the room crumble into a soft, spongy mass that feels damp and fibrous under my fingers. I touch the wall, wet, too. Water trickles in from somewhere, seeping through the mortar and leaving faint cracks in the stonework. Drops form wherever enough of it collects and then drip to the ground when they grow too heavy to continue to defy gravity. Mildew clings to the surface in sickly patches of yellow and grey, a creeping disease that fills the air with its pungent stench. The walls are still solid, though. Blocks of granite resist every attempt to be weathered down, even if their surface is moist.


    The same can be said about the door. It may be covered in rust, but it is still solid. And it would be my last option to escape through anyway because it would alert the jailor outside.


    My eyes fall to a small window on the opposite wall, leading into complete darkness. I could creep and wiggle through like a contortionist, but those wrist-thick iron bars close the way. Can I pry them apart? I have nothing to use for leverage except rotten planks.


    How thick are the walls? I remember my scan rune, my first attempt at invisibility. The inscription has faded because I didn¡¯t think it had enough utility to renew it. I need my tools, but they are locked inside the spatial ring in my stomach.


    Is there enough time to wait for it to go through? Maybe. I could wait for them to take me out to fetch the compass at that imaginary place in the wilderness. I don¡¯t want to risk encountering The Crow, though. He may sniff out that it is all just hogwash. I should try to slip away as soon as I can.


    Why should it matter if the ring is on my finger or not to use it anyway? I¡¯m still in contact with it, more than ever. It¡¯s inside me. I am attuned to it after using it for so long. I¡¯ve seen merchants access their spatial artifacts just by touching them. Why should my ring be different? Do I have a mental block?


    Believe can influence your magic, according to The Crow. Even though, most times, it doesn¡¯t matter.


    How do I break through my self-imposed limitations?


    I sit down, crossing my legs, ignoring the rough, cold stone floor.


    I let the light wink out to have fewer distractions. Sight, smells, the distant murmur of other prisoners, and the seeping cold disappear as I turn inward. They sink beneath my consciousness like stones disappearing in a lake, inconsequential once the last ripple fades.


    I find my core, my still Tin-grade gathering vortex. Not what I am searching for. Where is my stomach?


    There! I briefly marvel at how easy it is to find it. My awareness of my body has grown a lot since I ranked up. This is nothing strange as far as I know. You need it at the copper stage to gradually temper yourself. Not that I have made much progress in that.


    I concentrate on my stomach, sinking deeper into it. I can feel the mush of half-digested food. There! I found it! A source of different flavored mana.


    Now, how do I channel mana into it to connect with it? It¡¯s floating inside, not even touching the walls of my stomach. The mana in the food I ate is in the way. I focus on how it slowly dissolves before being absorbed and filtered towards my core. Huh? I try to take control of the flow and divert it towards the ring, but it is slippery and fights against my grasp. Well, I should have known that. It¡¯s unattuned mana. I won¡¯t have fine control over it until it passes through my core.


    I weave a trickle of my attuned mana into a thread and slowly guide it toward where I can feel the ring. It falls short. I funnel even more mana into the thread and try to push through the resistance.


    A blurry space appears in my mind. Great! I can see the outlines of the objects inside, but they seem vague, like hidden behind a veil. I funnel even more mana to try to break through. A slow, smoldering heat is coiling in the pit of my stomach. Don¡¯t give up now. Hold on a bit longer. The objects grow more solid. I try to grasp my brush and ink bottle, but I have no hands here. Shit! Will they even appear in my hands? Or will they materialize inside my stomach? That could be a disaster. The heat gnaws at me from the inside, a raw, acidic burn that sends tendrils of discomfort creeping up my throat. I clench my jaw, swallowing the bitter taste rising in my mouth. Then I facepalm, falling out of meditation.


    I groan, ignoring my burning throat. I am an idiot. I have grown so accustomed to using magic for everything that I ignored the easy and mundane solution.


    I stand up, wobbling until the blood flow returns to my legs with prickling fury. I lean into a corner next to the door. I hesitate there for a moment. Then I force my trembling fingers down my throat, ignoring the spasms of my body that convulses in protest. A violent gag batters me, and my stomach twists like a clenched fist. The flood comes, hot and bitter, burning its way up as I lurch forward and retch onto the ground.


    Where is it? I need my light sphere. There! Something shiny glitters within the acidic mush. I grin. Not even my burning throat nor my watered eyes can drive away the pride I feel after overcoming my first hurdle.


    I rub my hands and the ring clean, using one of my worst old shirts as a rag, wet with water from one of the clay jugs inside my ring. Those guys didn¡¯t give me any, nor food. Do they want me to starve, or did they forget? Maybe they will feed us later. That would be bad because they would discover my escape sooner. Focus! I haven¡¯t escaped yet. I shouldn¡¯t waste time wondering about what-ifs.


    I draw a scan rune on my right palm. What else could I need?


    I could try to finish, test, and finetune the air-step rune I¡¯ve been working on. It could help me in a lot of possible scenarios.


    I take my notebook out to check my sketches. They should go on my feet. I need to take off my boots. I watch the cold and humid ground warily. Then I facepalm again. Why am I still squatting on it when I have plenty of clothes to use as a rug? Most of them are useless anyway because they are tailored for a man and too big for me.


    I may not be at my finest today. Is it because of the remorse I feel about what happened to Dante? It¡¯s not my fault, and now is not the time!


    A few last careful strokes and the runes are finished. I hop up and Chanel to try them out. It works. I am standing in the air, on transparent barriers, half a meter off the ground. The runes are sucking in mana like crazy, though. I can feel how my core dips and empties at a visible rate.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Noted. I can¡¯t support a continuous effect for long. But I don¡¯t need to. Just flickering them on for a heartbeat each time before I step on them should be enough.


    I try to step forward, but the barrier under my right foot flickers out. A new barrier appears in my way, and I stumble over it. I whirl my arms wildly through the air, trying to catch my balance, but fall to the ground with a crash.


    ¡°Ouch.¡±


    I massage my bruised hip. What the heck happened there?


    I turn the runes on and off without leaving the ground, observing what happens when I move my feet.


    They remain where they first appeared each time I start to channel. There is nothing strange about that. After all, they are based on a rune that creates a barrier fixed in space. When a foot gets more than a palm breadth away from them, something strange happens, though. Instead of staying behind, the barrier snaps forward and reappears under my foot.


    Could this be because that is the maximum distance I can channel mana outside of my body?


    Probably.


    Well, it doesn¡¯t matter if I only flicker the rune on for an instant to step on and deactivate it immediately. This will require some practice in timing and coordination to make it intuitive. It will be useless if I have to focus on it during a hectic battle.


    Let¡¯s practice a bit until they decide to bring us dinner.


    Jump, flicker, step, go. I don¡¯t stumble this time, but I reach the end of the room. It is too small to last me for more than three steps. I could try to run through the air in a circle without touching the ground. Let¡¯s try that.


    I run and run, ever faster. I am getting the trick of it. I run until I grow dizzy and sit down to reorient myself and catch my breath.


    Still no dinner in sight. I am tired of waiting.


    I project my scan rune onto the door. A part of it seems to disappear, letting me see through. Hmm. Two fingers thick solid iron. How did they even move it? It must weigh a ton. I can see a pair of thugs playing cards. I step back to cancel the scan before they see me.


    What about the walls?


    The wall in the back is solid, thicker than my scan rune can reach. I try again at different places to search for a hollow or a hidden tunnel. Nothing. The wall on the right side of the door is a foot thick and gives way to an empty chamber identical to the one I am in. I scan the last wall and come face to face with a skeleton of a man. He blinks. I freeze. We look at each other. How can he still be alive? I watch him touch the invisible wall between us with his gnarly fingers. He frowns once he discovers the resistance. I let the scan rune wink out.


    ¡°There¡¯s a gyal!¡± The sudden cry pierces through the silence. For some reason, I hear it through the door and not the wall. ¡°I saw her!¡±


    ¡°Quiet old man!¡± admonishes one of the guards.


    ¡°I saw her!¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Ts¡­ I saw her in the wall.¡±


    Shit! Are they going to suspect me?


    ¡°Have you finally lost your mind?¡± Distant laughter drones through the Iron door. ¡°Be silent, or we will beat you up again.¡±


    Okay, they are idiots. But I better start to hurry.


    My best bet is that window in the back, wherever it may lead. I could try to cobble together a force-projection rune with the kinetic rune component of my shock-absorber rune. But there would still be the problem of finding leverage to pry the bars apart. I have a bunch of swords I could try to use. No, no, this is the wrong approach. I should try to melt them.


    What happens when I create a heat rune and seal the effect inside a seal-heat rune, giving it no way to escape? Worth a try.


    First, let¡¯s lock the door from the inside.


    I paint a seal-movement rune on it. Modifying it to fix the door in space as long as the rune can pull in enough mana not to be overwhelmed, which should be a lot in the mana density of this place. For good measure, I draw a seal-sound rune next to it.


    Then I step towards the window.


    If I draw the heat rune on the metal bars, they will stop working if I get them hot enough to deform. So, on the stone beneath it is. It¡¯s a bit moist but more or less even. I get my rag from the ground to clean it, grinding away mortar, mildew, and dust until only solid granite remains. I draw the seal-heat rune first, then the heat rune directly under the bars, as close as I can get it. The stone sucks in half of one of my ink-bottle. Don¡¯t think about the cost! Money comes and goes.


    The last stroke falls in place. Heat slams against my skin. Searing air snaps for my fingers, nearly catching them before I can get them away.


    ¡°Ouch!¡±


    That was fast! I check my hands. Just a few singed hairs, I barely escaped burning myself. The bars are already turning red. I poke at them with the rustiest sword I have. Still solid. Now, they are turning orange. Both runes are working marvelously well together. I can¡¯t feel any temperature change half a step away. Well, as long as I don¡¯t take the sword out of the area of effect. It¡¯s melting faster than the bars. I pull it out and throw it onto the floor. Hissing steam rises in an instant.


    The bars are already yellow, turning to white. Do I need to ruin another sword? Or should I wait and see if it melts down? They are starting to deform already, growing bulkier at the bottom.


    A bead of molten metal trembles on the side of one bar, quivering like liquid fire before surrendering to gravity and dripping. The bar starts to sag. Its structure warps and bends. Shit! It¡¯s going to flow over the runes and mess them up.


    I take a step back and activate my body seal-heat rune.


    The bars are melting into a pool now, like dripping candles. Then the runes break and sputter out.


    I can see the effect of the heat wave racing across the room, even if I don¡¯t feel it. The moisture in the walls evaporates, and the mildew wrinkles into grey, dusty flakes.


    I can hear a screech outside in the darkness behind the window. Taps of tiny claws skitter over the stone in quick and erratic movements.


    I step a bit closer to it, eager to leave. But the iron rest and granite need to cool down before I can slip through. My seal heat rune won¡¯t do anything if the heat source is inside my sphere.


    I wait. The puddle solidifies again. I poke and prod at it with another sword because the handle of the first one is still too hot to touch it. The granite around the window has changed color and become brittle. So, I poke at it using the sword as a chisel to widen the gap. It serves as an improvised lever to pry loose the rests of iron.


    The gap is wide enough to creep through easily now. But the stone remains hot. I empty one of my water jugs on it and watch it evaporate until steam fills the chamber. I empty another one. The stone remains wet, hot but wet.


    I creep and wiggle through the still somewhat hot stone until I¡¯m through. My light sphere illuminates a narrow passage, tunnel, or ventilation shaft. Rats look at me, baring their teeth, their eyes gleaming in the light before they turn around and skitter away in the distance. I crawl in the opposite direction of the malnourished man¡¯s chamber. I don¡¯t want to wake him up now. Who knows if he could get the jailors to hear him out this time? Did he feel the heatwave? Maybe. Each of the cells has a tiny window into this crawlway. But I think he should have been too far away for the full effect to reach him.


    I continue crawling forward until I reach another rusty iron fence that bars the way into a wider tunnel. This one isn¡¯t an obstacle, though. It crumbles and breaks into rusty pieces with nearly any effort.


    This does seem to be part of the city sewers. Even if it is not functional and has been repurposed. A trickle of nearly clear water flows through the bottom of the tunnel. Should I get up or down?


    I can hear voices upwards. That shouldn¡¯t be a problem as long as I remain invisible.


    I end up in a hall full of crates. There are people here. They laugh, drink, and play cards or snore on top of the tables around an improvised underground bar.


    I can see a staircase on the other side of the room, leading upwards, probably onto the street level, if my sense of orientation isn¡¯t failing me. I found my way out.


    I am about to bolt into freedom, but then I stop. Maybe it is time to pay back the warm welcome these bastards gave me. What do they have in these crates?


    I pry one open with my banged-up sword under the cover of my seal-sound rune.


    Huh?


    What is this?


    The crate is full of large and hollow metallic shafts covered in runes.


    Aren¡¯t these the same as those thunder sticks the rebels attacked us with?


    What the fuck?


    Could it be that I had it all wrong and the mysterious leader of the rebels that man they tortured spoke about isn¡¯t the baron I stole the compass from but The Crow?


    You know what? I don¡¯t want to know. Let¡¯s get out of here before someone realizes that I¡¯m missing.

 18-Blending in

    The crisp morning air carries the scent of damp stone and faint traces of last night¡¯s hearth smoke here. A rooster crows somewhere in the slums I left behind. Its cry echoes around the still half-empty streets. I wander, evading all the early risers rushing toward wherever they need to go. Someone slips and nearly crashes into me.


    ¡°I knew I should have put on the other boots!¡± he mumbles.


    I watch him stumble away over the slick cobblestones that gleam dully under the pale light of the dawn. I step to the side, wait to be alone, and toggle my invisibility off. I don¡¯t want to cause an accident. Who knows if there is a high-ranking mage somewhere that could sense me through it? I can¡¯t stand out. I need to blend in.


    Shuttered windows open all along the street, like eyelids waking up from slumber. I hide my singed hair inside my hood, acting like I am just trying to shelter from the cold breeze. Nobody seems to care. A cinnamon and grey striped cat slinks across the path ahead. Some idiot decides to kick at her. She hisses at him before vanishing into a shadowed alley. Everybody walks past in silence, not caring much about the disturbance. The only sounds are the soft, rhythmic fall of boots and the drip of water falling from the eaves.


    Merchants are starting to set up their stalls. A few of the girls behind them look a lot like me. They have the same misty-grey eyes, oval-shaped faces, and gently narrowing jawlines. Their hair is black, though, almost always. I look at the brown strands of my hair, brittle, frayed, and uneven, shriveled and melted at the ends. Let us find a hairdresser. I want to blend in before Dogface and his crew start looking for me.


    The jingle of a bell above the door announces my entrance into the hairdresser¡¯s shop.


    People look up briefly, then continue their chatter.


    ¡°Yikes! What happened to you?¡± asks the shopowner, mouth half-open, nearly cutting too far into the curls of the client she is attending.


    ¡°Just an accident,¡± I mumble, fidgeting with the hems of my sleeves. ¡°I fell asleep too close to the hearth last night.¡±


    She gives me a long look. Then she smiles. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, honey. Let me finish up with Tinea, and then I¡¯ll leave you prettier than ever.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror while I sit down. Jagged ends curl like brittle vines. Some strands are scorched like copper, others blackened. I pull my hood tighter over my head, trying to ignore the faint scent of burnt hair still clinging to me like an unwelcome shadow, mingling awkwardly with the smell of the floral shampoo an apprentice is washing another client¡¯s hair with.


    The bell at the door jingles again. Two more women enter and sit down on the chaise of the waiting area beside me.


    ¡°I heard your nephew got¡­ engaged,¡± comments one of them, lazily fanning herself with one gloved hand, voice dripping like trying to feign concern.


    The scissors snip through the sudden silence.


    The other lady exhales through her nose loudly while pulling and adjusting her silky dress. ¡°Regrettably, yes. He did, but just to some upstart, I fear, trying to reach above her station.¡±


    The first lady lifts her brows in delight. A predator smelling blood. ¡°Oh, my dear, do not keep me in suspense. Who is she?¡±


    The second lady sighs, leaning back as if searching for something to hold her upright. ¡°Just some country girl, I am told. She has no money or connections to speak of, but my brother approves of her because she reached gold rank at seventeen. He says we need to bind talented blood into our lineage. As if we were some high nobles,¡± she scoffs. ¡°No, what we need are connections inside those noble circles. There are dozens of fine young noble ladies just as talented he could have chosen from.¡±


    The first lady snaps her fan shut with a soft thwap and gasps. ¡°She is neither wealthy nor a noble?¡±


    The second lady pinches the bridge of her nose. ¡°No, no¡­ I don¡¯t know what got into my nephew¡¯s head. He is usually smarter than that.¡± She sighs dramatically, reclining further. ¡°He talks about love and some nonsense as if that would matter. Should take her as a maid or a concubine and marry someone from a good family.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always the promising ones, right? They go to the academy for a few years, and instead of securing a respectable match, some upstart leads them on and gets their dirty paws on them.¡±


    ¡°Exactly! She even thinks she can order us around because my nephew is the heir.¡±


    An academy, huh? A magical academy, from what they are talking about. They should have information about runes there. I wonder if they have a library open to the public that I can visit or break into. No, no! I need to get out of this city. It¡¯s too risky to stay here now that I have decided to break away from The Crow and his gang.


    ¡°A man will forgive a woman any faults if she is young and pretty.¡±


    The second lady sniffs. ¡°Well, youth does not last, and I very much doubt she will remain so charming when she has to manage a household she was never raised to run.¡±


    The first lady giggles. ¡°A little reality does wonders for misplaced confidence. Perhaps, in time, she will learn her place.¡±


    ¡°One can only hope.¡±


    The hairdresser finishes with her current client and steps over to me. ¡°Come, honey, let¡¯s see what we can do.¡± She nods towards a chair beneath a water bowl with a gentle smile.


    I sit and watch myself in the mirror, my body stiff. The hairdresser unwinds my ruined strands with sure and practiced hands.


    ¡°Such nice hair, what a shame.¡± She frowns but then smiles. ¡°We will need to leave it a bit short to get to the hale part, but don¡¯t worry, some short hairstyles are coming into fashion again in the southern provinces.¡±


    ¡°Can you die it black?¡± I ask.


    She looks down at me, like she is about to encourage me to try something different, but then shrugs. ¡°If you like it that way, sure, honey.¡±


    Warm water runs over my scalp. Soft fingers scrub gently, washing away the ash and the memories of blazing heat and merciless hands. The conversation drifts into a muted hum until I reemerge from under the tide, feeling clean and reborn.


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    ¡°I heard that one of Count Avonia¡¯s ships got attacked by rebels just a few days of travel away.¡± Count Avonia, isn¡¯t that Kamoe¡¯s father? Are they talking about the ship I came with?


    ¡°What? Why did they let them come so far?¡±


    The hairdresser listens, too. She combs through my damp, fragile strands of hair, seeming distracted. The whole saloon is listening in.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but they are getting more brazen daily. I wonder what the legion is waiting for to root them out.¡±


    ¡°As if they could,¡± mutters another client. The metallic snip of scissors punctuates her words. ¡°My brother-in-law told us that they are stuck at the fortress next to the entrance of the abyss.¡± Ruined ends fall to the floor like scorched feathers. ¡°The blumen are raiding again.¡± The saloon grows silent. Everybody looks at the speaker.


    Some people gasp. ¡°You don¡¯t say?¡±


    I drown the conversation out, trying to figure out where I heard about blumen before. The scissors continue to sing quietly, severing the damage, bit by bit. I know! It was in that racist book I found back in the town where I met Kamoe and Yuileen. The pale men from that place called the Underdark, whatever that is. Could it be related?


    ¡°And finished,¡± announces the hairdresser. I turn to face the mirror, barely recognizing myself. The scorched remnants have been replaced by sleek, walnut-colored strands that gleam and shimmer in the light. ¡°You said you wanted it black, right?


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I touch my hair, reluctantly, about to tell her no, that I want it to remain how it is now. I sigh. Black will let me blend in and confuse whoever Dogface sends to look for me. Black is safe, like a shadow you can disappear into.


    Back in the street, no one cares about me. Not the peddlers, merchants, or those scrawny children standing in the corners that I am sure work for The Crow now. I wander past them, acting like I don¡¯t even see them. I am just another Peruvian girl on a stroll. I smile after I am past. Where should I go to? I take the compass out of my ring and hide it under my cloak. Hmm. It points to the far side of the city. I store it again before someone grows suspicious of what I am looking at. Let¡¯s find out where it points toward then.


    I pass through the rest of the market quarter, leaving behind the scent of spices and fresh bread. The needle still points north. I wander past big palace-like mansions, fine-trimmed hedges, gardens that smell of roses and jasmine, and creeping vines full of big violet flowers that cover marble columns and archways. The needle still points north.


    After what feels like an eternity, I¡¯m in a craftsmen¡¯s district again. The ring of hammers hitting on anvils echoes through the alleys, over weavers and potter wheels. Sawdust swirls at my feet as I cross another workshop, tightly packed against the next one, leaving no space between. I shelter in their shadow from the blazing midday sun. I check on the compass. The needle still points north. I keep it out, still hidden under my cloak, to let it guide me through the labyrinthic maze of nearly identical streets. The houses thin as I press on. I pass under another looming stone arch covered in moss and lichen, a gateway into the outer city. The needle still points north.


    I follow a road lined with hedgerows and scattered cottages, where children dart barefoot over meadows between sheep and goats. Dogs bark at my passing, and chickens flutter away before getting back to search for lost worms that try to hide in freshly tilled fields. The city walls fall further and further behind me. The needle still points north, following the direction of a dirt path that winds upwards into the mountains. The compass has led me out of the city¡¯s grasp, where the air is free of stone and smoke, where I can see people looking for me from miles away. Golden rolling fields give way to a sparse forest. The road continues.


    I can hear voices coming from behind a bend in the road. I step to the side, between the trees, to walk parallel to it. It smells of pines and still-damp moss. The voices come closer. I crouch down behind a bush. A squad of armed people appears in my field of view. Metallic shields reflect the golden light of the afternoon sun that filters through the branches.


    I listen to them trudge closer, chainmail jingling with each step.


    ¡°Another day in the cold up there would have turned me into a statue.¡± Says someone in a deep voice. They are so close now that I can hear their chainmail jingling with each step. They reek of sweat and damp leather. How long ago was the last time they washed themselves? ¡°My joints feel like rusted hinges.¡±


    ¡°Must be the weight of all that ale you keep drinking, Keal¡± says another man. Roaring laughter reaches my ears. ¡°Maybe, if you cut back, you wouldn¡¯t creak like an old gate.¡±


    ¡°Listen here, you bastard,¡± growls the man they called Keal. ¡°The only reason you¡¯re still breathing is ¡®cause I keep idiots like you from getting mauled by the wildlife.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but it¡¯s my sharp eyes and quick fingers that keep you lot from getting your throats slit in the night,¡± says the second voice. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t even know if something is stalking us.¡± I crouch deeper into the bushes, holding my breath. Should I toggle my invisibility on, or could they sense that? It has worked so far whenever I use it. Am I getting paranoid about it because of what Yuileen said? Maybe I don¡¯t need it. Better not risk it. It¡¯s not like they can see me here in the shadows anyway. ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t see you refusing the ale when I buy the first round.¡±


    Someone lets out an exhausted sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t care who buys the ale as long as there¡¯s a tankard in my hand by sundown.¡±


    ¡°Aye.¡±


    ¡°Aye.


    ¡°We should pass by the red-light district.¡±


    ¡°Next time, those bastards should let us bring some girl up there if they want us to stay there weeks on end. A man has needs.¡±


    ¡°Somebody knows why they even sent us there?¡± asks the second voice. ¡°It¡¯s not like the old man would let anyone get into Cherry-blossom Valley without an invitation.¡± Cherry-blossom Valley, isn¡¯t that the place Kevin, The Crow¡¯s new lieutenant, spoke about? I bet it is precisely where the compass is trying to take me.


    ¡°How should any of us know what nonsense a noble will come up with? As long as they pay, they order, we obey.¡±


    ¡°That place was cursed though, I swear it,¡± mutters someone who hadn¡¯t spoken until now. ¡°The wind howled every night, and I¡¯m certain the shadows moved in the darkness inside the tunnel.¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± rumbles the first voice. ¡°I bet those were the ghosts of poor fools who tried to cross without permission. You didn¡¯t hear them whispering?¡±


    ¡°I knew it!¡±


    The second voice laughs again. ¡°You guys are pussies. At most, it was some lost Ice spirit that wandered too far. Or just the wind that blows at night.¡±


    ¡°Say what you want,¡± rumbles the first voice, ¡°but I saw a shadow moving where no man stood. And Ice-spirits are vicious. They hide until you''re frozen to death before they devour you.¡±


    ¡°Maybe up in the mountain peaks they do, but down here they don¡¯t. They can barely keep themselves together here. Must have been some critter.¡±


    ¡°You think some spirits or beasts were watching us, deciding whether we were worthy to leave alive.¡±


    Somebody snickers and another one swallows hard. ¡°And what if they decide otherwise?¡±


    A loud clap echoes between the branches. ¡°Then they can fight me for my seat at the tavern. Now, shut your gob and keep walking unless you want to give ¡®em another poor soul to haunt the tunnel.¡±


    More laughter roars up. I watch them dragging their heavy boots through the dirt, slowly disappearing into the distance.


    It¡¯s close to sunset already. I finally found what they were talking about. The road ends in a tunnel leading somewhere deep under the mountains. Another squad of armed fellows is guarding the entrance. Can I sneak through? Probably yes, it shouldn¡¯t be that hard if I use invisibility. But I have no idea what waits for me inside. There could be wards, traps, or that man those soldiers seem to fear laying in wait. I don¡¯t want to enter a closed space that narrows down possible escape paths. If they have just recently started guarding the passage, it could have something to do with the heist of the compass. After learning that The Crow lives in Minas Kalin now, I can believe everything. The timing is suspicious.


    I take my compass out. The needle quivers and points somewhere to the left of the tunnel, close to where two guards are roasting a boar over a campfire. I take a few steps to the side, careful to always keep a bush or a rock to cover from their line of sight. Now, the compass points even further left of the tunnel. Or rather somewhere far behind on the other side of the mountains. I look towards the snow- and ice-covered peaks bathed in pinkish hues under the setting sunlight. Can I get over instead of through the mountains? If there is something that I am good at, it is climbing. I have food, a tent to take shelter in, runes to keep me warm, break my fall, and step through the air. I have a compass to keep direction. I am as prepared as I could be. Let us get over the mountains. What could go wrong?

 19-Moving ice

    The air feels thin up here, high above the world, where the wind howls almost as if alive. My seal-heat rune keeps most of the cold out, but my fingers touch the ice directly, and some of it filters through. The mountain is an unyielding beast of frozen cliffs, stone, and whirling snow that swallows the sunlight. I dig my fingers into another crevice. My boots scrap against a glassy ledge, searching for some grip. Each time I get too hot and toggle my seal-heat rune off, my breath forms misty clouds that linger for a few heartbeats around me before they vanish. The traces of my passage vanish under a blanket of snow. I grin.


    There are no plants, no animals, no life anywhere. But I feel alive.


    I sit on a ledge to calm my wheezing breath and thundering heart. I take the compass out while munching on nuts and dried fruit to recover my energy. It still points onward.


    The wind calms down, letting the snow drift to the ground like plucked feathers, revealing the skyline. I look over the peaks I passed and snow-covered valleys. I can¡¯t even see Minas Kalin anymore. Just white and still emptiness everywhere.


    Something moves beneath me at the base of the cliff I just climbed up. What is that? A snow-avalanche? No, no! It¡¯s moving upwards. I can barely make it out. It appears and disappears in the shadows, sleek and soundless, weaving through the snowdrifts. It¡¯s a big cat, a snow leopard, or a mountain lion, definitively a hunter. Its white and silver-blue mottled fur blends perfectly with the frozen world, making it look like a ghost¡ªa whisper of unease curls down my spine.


    I continue my climb upwards, looking down a few heartbeats later to see what it does. It stops and looks up at me, paw frozen halfway through its next step. Its eyes burn with a cold blue light. It waits for a while, just watching me, searching for a reaction. How long has it been following me? Is it waiting for me to exhaust myself, to misstep once my limbs grow heavy?


    It takes a step forward, every attempt at stealth forgotten, and starts walking up the cliff almost like it is an even horizontal surface. Shit! A mana-beast. One that is adapted to hunt in this terrain.


    Can I beat it in a fight? I don¡¯t have any directly offensive rune. At most, I could try to blind it with a light beam. A physical confrontation would be ill-advised here because I need at least one of my hands not to slip and fall. Well, not that falling would necessarily kill me. Still, fighting while hanging on the cliff feels awkward. It¡¯s too late to hide, too. Even if I could, I have nothing to erase my scent trail. I need to try to outrun it somehow. Or at least I need to get somewhere I can stand with my arms free to use my bow.


    The snow moves again below me in total silence. It is closing the distance.


    I can¡¯t afford to slow down. The summit is close, jagged, and glistening against the skyline. My fingers tremble. The ice beneath my boots crackles and shifts slightly. Some of it breaks apart. It falls, dragging more ice and snow in its wake. Maybe that will solve my problem. I look down, hoping the thundering avalanche will sweep the leopard away, but it just sprints to the side and lets it flow past. Then it glares at me before starting to close the distance again, moving to the side not to be directly beneath me.


    I have reached the top, a more or less even, ice-covered boulder, maybe ten meters wide. It¡¯s a bit slippery, but at least I can stand. There are a lot of other mountain peaks in every direction I look. Some are far away, others close by, separated by deep chasms.


    I look down where I came from. The leopard is closing. It¡¯s merely about a hundred meters away now. This is it. I have no time to doubt myself. I blow on my hands to breathe warmth into my frozen fingers.


    Ninety meters. I take out my bow and stick a handful of arrows with the point down into the snow at my feet to reload in an eyeblink if the need arises.


    Eighty meters. My breath hitches as I nock an arrow. The bowstring bites into my fingertips, still stiff and raw from the ice they came into contact with.


    Seventy meters. The snow leopard climbs the frozen cliffside with effortless grace, almost like a dancer. Its claws find purchase where no living thing should. The twilight washes over its shimmering fur. Its glowing eyes lock onto me, unblinking, unafraid. I flinch. My heartbeat thunders louder and louder in my chest.


    Sixty meters. I remember to exhale. I blink and take another breath to calm down. I align my arrow with the beast and start pulling the string.


    Fifty meters. I let the arrow fly. It slices through the thin air, a whisper of motion against the wind, straight towards the leopard. For a heartbeat, relief floods me. Is this it? But then the beast reacts. It twists mid-climb with a flick of its body. The arrow glances off the ice where the big cat had just been before burrowing itself harmlessly into the snow. Shit! How can it be so agile and perceptive? For a single, breathless moment, the leopard hangs in the air with coiled muscles, almost as if floating over the chasm. Then its claws find purchase again. I hear it scoff. It leaps forward way faster than before. It will reach me in seconds.


    Forty meters. I shoot another arrow as fast as I can. It goes wide of the target. The leopard doesn¡¯t even react to it. Shit!


    Thirty meters. I nock another arrow. Calm down and take enough time to aim. Twenty meters. The arrow flies, but the leopard evades again without losing speed, focused, trying to win the race. I start turning around, storing the bow in my ring, half of my arrows left behind. There is no time.


    Ten meters. I slip but get up instantly to sprint towards the opposite side of the boulder. I can see the leopard arrive at the top of the cliffside behind me out of the corner of my eye. It stops. I hear it scoff, thinking me cornered.


    I run towards the edge before it changes its mind and pounces. Then, I jump over the emptiness as far as I can.


    I activate my air step rune as soon as gravity starts to pull me down and step forward with all my strength. One step, two steps, three steps, four steps, five steps, then I¡¯m over the chasm. I fall onto the next ice and snow-covered peak and roll on the ground a few times to bleed my momentum. I would love to keep lying in the soft snow to recover my breath, but I pull myself together and stand up on wobbly legs.


    I look back to the other peak. The leopard looks at me with wide-open eyes. Then, it looks down into the chasm between us. A freefall of nearly four hundred meters. Then it glares at me. Its cerulean eyes twinkle before it huffs audibly and turns to where it came from.


    I sit down and breathe, in and out, until my racing heart calms down. Once the shock passes, I start feeling a stinging pain in my right arm and left knee I wasn¡¯t aware of before. I am full of bruises and a few nasty gashes.


    I channel my body restoration rune. The pain dulls, but the wounds may take a while to heal. It could be dangerous to continue like this. I need to be at full strength if I encounter another predator. Everything else would be suicidal. Can I camp here?


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    I walk around the top of the new peak. I¡¯m on a more or less flat and circular surface covered in ice and snow about fifty meters in diameter, almost like the point of a needle hanging over the clouds. I walk along the perimeter, looking down, trying to judge how hard climbing up here would be. The cliffs around the peak are all almost vertical, between maybe four hundred meters and more than one kilometer deep, before they connect with the sides of other adjacent mountains. Groups of snow-white raptor birds seem to nest between the cliffs. One of them floats by in absolute silence, carrying a snow rabbit. It looks at me and screeches but then drifts past, carried by the wind, before disappearing on the opposite cliff.


    I shrug. This seems as safe as it can get up here. Apart from the leopard and the birds, no one knows I¡¯m here. There is no trail leading towards me. The leopard seems to have lost interest in climbing up and down more cliffs, and the birds are too small to be a menace.


    Even so, I take up one of the ward cubes I stole in the forest and set it up. The one that checks for temperature changes. Then I pull out my tent and stumble inside, exhausted. I activate the variation of the eternal spring rune I inscribed on it to let it keep warm inside, using only the ambient mana. Then I stop channeling my seal heat rune and divert all my mana into my body restoration rune. The sooner I can be healed, the better.


    I wince, checking the gash on my forearm again. If my skin and muscles were tempered, I probably wouldn¡¯t have taken that much damage. The last time I tried tempering, it didn¡¯t go so well. I need to figure out how to do it safely. But not now. I¡¯m too exhausted, and I can¡¯t risk further injuries until I am somewhere safer. Let us get out of these mountains first. I take the compass out. It still points to somewhere on the other side of the mountain chain. At least I seem to have passed the highest peaks. Maybe I¡¯ll be able to reach that valley tomorrow.


    I wake up under the dull glow of the blue moon. I must have fallen asleep at some moment. I¡¯ve never taken the time to think much about it before. It is a different moon from the orange moon that floats over the Solarian kingdom. I do believe that I have heard about this one before. The blue moon that visits our skies every ten years or so, barely rising over the horizon. In the country I am currently in, It hangs straight over me, and the orange moon is nowhere in sight. I wonder if there are more celestial bodies elsewhere that you only see if you travel far enough. Maybe I¡¯ll discover it someday.


    The horizon starts to glow brighter. I take out a hearty rice meal with fish and steamed vegetables. I need enough energy for the day. A sliver of the sun appears, casting yellow light beams over the mountain peaks. I take in the breathtaking view and smile. This is freedom. The dangerous wildlife doesn¡¯t matter. They are at least honest in their intentions, not like Dogface and his idiot cousin, that Kevin guy. Why did I even let them drag me into their den like that? Dogface was never the most trustworthy fellow. Maybe I was too distracted by the news of Dante¡¯s demise. I shudder. Stop thinking about him. It¡¯s not my fault.


    Well, at least there is nothing I can do about it anymore.


    I stand up and start picking up my campsite before continuing. My wounds are nearly closed. Only a faint whitish scar remains on my forearm.


    I air-step towards the next peak my compass points toward, more carefully this time. I land in a crouch without difficulty. I wait for a few minutes for my mana to recover. Then I continue wandering and slipping down the mountainside, always trying to follow the compass.


    I¡¯m alone again. There is no movement on the cliffs, no life in sight apart from the birds that drift lazily through the clouds before they dart to the ground somewhere in the distance.


    I look at them in envy. Flying would make crossing these mountains easy, but I have no runes that could let me do something like that, and I think the mana costs would be astronomical.


    Something moves on another cliff a bit below me. I stop. Is the leopard back? I try to glimpse at the movement, trying to make out its fur, but there is nothing. Nothing remotely animal-like. The ice shifts, moving with the wind, slowly drifting towards me like an avalanche that creeps upward. What is that? Could it be one of those Ice spirits the men that came back from guarding the tunnel spoke of? What are they? Elemental beings?


    I move forward like a shadow, each step measured, each breath barely more than a whisper. The towering figure of frozen crystal continues to creep closer. Another one appears a bit further away and starts creeping in my direction. They move deceptively fast. They only seem slow because they are enormous. How do they detect me? They don¡¯t have eyes, as far as I can see, just a blue pulsing core somewhere in the middle of the moving masses of snow and ice, only visible because parts of their bodies are transparent.


    I press myself against a ridge of ice, trying to blend with the snow, ignoring the pulse that hammers in my ears. Then I turn on my invisibility rune and dart forward.


    It doesn¡¯t seem to work. The creeping masses of ice shift to adjust their trajectory. Okay, it¡¯s not light they sense. What about heat? I change invisibility for my seal heat rune that I had turned off to save mana, relying on the enchantments of my cloak to keep me somewhat warm. The closest mass of creeping ice stops for a second, almost as if confused, but then drifts closer again. Well, it seems they do sense heat, but also something else. What about sound or vibration? I activate my silence rune. There doesn¡¯t seem to be a difference.


    What about mana-sense? I activate my seal mana rune. If it is soul-sense like what high-ranking mages have, there is nothing I can do. The elementals stop. I look at them. They resemble just another part of the mountain now. I shiver. Dangerous ambush predators. Okay, they have heat-sense and mana-sense then. I can work with that. I slowly step forward, changing my direction a bit. Who knows if they are intelligent enough to guess if I am still there and have not disappeared?


    The wind howls between the peaks, rattling through the frozen spires like a wailing ghost. One of the elementals shifts, its massive limbs grind against themselves, rumbling like cracking glaciers. I hold my breath and advance carefully. The last thing I want is to cause an avalanche that could reveal my position. Even if my mana seal may hide me, it also cuts me off from the ambient mana. It can¡¯t compensate for the drain my active runes exert on my slowly emptying core. I¡¯m on a timer. I need to get enough distance between me and those creatures before I run out of mana.


    I take a step, then another. The nearest elemental turns slightly, seeming to sweep its senses over the pass. I start to walk faster, keeping an eye on him.


    For a long, aching moment, nothing happens. Then, with a deep groan, like distant thunder, the elemental continues forward, passes over where I was a few minutes ago, freezes again, and then turns back to where it came from.


    I let out a slow, shaking breath and press forward. I slip through the frozen landscape like a wraith, fearing that one wrong move will call down the mountain¡¯s wrath.


    I press onward until my mana runs out, forcing me to stop channeling my runes. I look around like a frightened deer. Nothing moves.


    Finally, my mana recovers, and I continue. I jump down a cliff, trying not to think of the altitude. Successive air steps arrest my fall until I arrive in a valley. The ice is melting here into a stream that flows downwards between patches of green grass poking out of the snow. Its mirror-clear water flows quickly beneath a thin lace of ice. I freeze. Something is moving ahead. Then I breathe out in relief. It is only a snow bunny hopping around. I have no idea if there are predators here, but at least the snow and ice here are too shallow for one of those Ice-spirits to hide in between. I may have left the worst behind.


    I start walking downwards, following the stream, trying to step on the firm ground to keep my feet dry and not fall into hidden crevices. I can hear my boots crunch over frost-limned grass. See the breath I exhale curl in the crisp air. I activate my seal heat rune again to combat the shivers that assault me. The highest peaks start to fall behind, still lost in the grasp of an eternal winter. But here, the ice is thawing. I feel like I am advancing through the seasons the further I descend. The first shrubs appear. Bright green, covered in butterfly-shaped flowers with white petals. The snow is losing the fight with the patches of vegetation. It only remains in the deepest shadows under dark pines that have started appearing.


    I follow the stream, winding between meadows, more pines, and solitary birches. It slowly widens, receiving more and more tributaries flowing down from adjacent valleys. A bird calls from somewhere between the branches of the trees. I take in the scent of pine, damp earth, and the moss around me and smile. Then I turn off my seal heat rune. It¡¯s not that cold here.


    I take out my compass. For the first time since I entered these mountains, it isn¡¯t pointing northwards anymore. Huh?

 20-The Valley

    After descending for a while, I discover a path carved into the mountainside. It winds downward in sweep, meandering curves that approach and move away from the river, playing a game of tag.


    I follow it, stepping carefully through the damp earth and the morning mist that curls around my ankles.


    After another bend of the path, the valley opens into layers of green rice terraces bathed under the pink hue of floating petals that drift away carried by the breeze.


    ¡°Cherry Blossom Valley¡­ Huh?¡± I murmur. There are cherry trees everywhere on the slopes over and between terraces. Some are in full bloom, others already clad in green leaves the further you descend into the valley.


    I reach the valley¡¯s edge, where the river is tamed and the wilderness gives way to civilization. Next to where I am, a sturdy stone gate funnels half of the river¡¯s lifeblood into waiting channels. Sluices made out of thick bamboo, covered with algae and snails, split the water into narrow veins that weave through the terraces to feed all of them.


    I step closer, listening to the murmuring flow as it passes beneath a spillway. A series of wooden levers and weighted stones dictate how much water is drawn into each sector of fields below and how much remains in the river.


    I reach out, tracing the grain of the wood, feeling the steady pulse of the current beneath my fingertips. A pair of small serpents drift by, stalking something I can¡¯t make out.


    Beyond the intake, the irrigation canals stretch like shimmering ribbons, catching the sunlight as they wind down the slopes. Water cascades gently between the levels, feeding each terrace before slipping into the next, funneled through hollow bamboo pipes as thick as my waist. The scent of wet earth rises with the warm morning air, mingling with the drifting sweetness of cherry blossoms.


    I wander closer to the terraces. Water glistens in their flooded paddies, reflecting the sky as the sun rises over the horizon. Pale petals flutter around me. They whisper between the trees before drifting down like plucked feathers that land on the water, forming pink blankets between the green rice stalks. Crabs and colored fishes swim beneath, looking at me as if waiting for me to feed them.


    I pause after another bend in the path. My gaze sweeps over a village nestled between a sea of paddies and a body of water, where the roaring river calms down into a lake. Thatched roofs peek behind groves of bamboo. Ribbons of smoke trail up into the air. A bell chimes somewhere, a deep, resonant note that lingers in the morning hush. Is it a sound of welcome or a warning? Just keeping the time?


    I flicker my invisibility rune on out of reflex and listen. The wind carries distant laughter to my ears. The bell chimes again. It comes from a building atop a hill, where the land meets the sky in a hush of wind and birdsong. A temple, maybe? It stands there, a silhouette of sloping eaves, stone, and bamboo shining under the morning sun, where the rice paddies meet the pine forest surrounding the valley. Red pillars frame an entrance shadowed by time, the lacquer dulled by years of rain and humidity. A path leads up from the lake towards it, bordered by rows of cherry trees.


    Out of curiosity, I take my compass out. A gasp escapes my lips. It points toward the temple. Huh?


    I¡¯m tempted to go up there and uncover the secret immediately, but then I pause. It would be wise to observe the lay of the land first. I still have no idea why the compass points that way exactly, if the people here are hostile or welcoming. If a treasure is hidden or buried up there, it could be protected by someone powerful. Let¡¯s observe the people of this village first.


    I release my invisibility rune and step forward, letting the valley embrace me. I follow the swaying cherry trees that border the path until I arrive at a park next to the lake, on the opposite side of the village.


    Bees and other insects hum through the air all around me, flying from blossom to blossom, collecting sweet nectar. The park stretches along the lake¡¯s edge, a quiet grove of citrus trees bathed in the morning light. Their branches, heavy with fruit, sag beneath the weight of ripe oranges, grapefruit, and brilliant lemons, their thick leaves rustle softly in the breeze. The air is thick with their scent¡ªbright and sharp, mingling with the cool breath of water lapping against the shore.


    I walk among the trees. My fingers graze the rough bark as I pass. The ground beneath my feet is a mosaic of fallen blossoms, patches of grass, and sun-dappled earth, slowly warming up where the light pours through the canopy, still cold and damp with lingering morning dew where the shadows pool beneath the densest branches.


    The lake shimmers behind a curtain of bamboo and reeds, its glassy surface broken only by the slow drift of lily pads, stalking herons, croaking frogs, and the occasional ripple of a fish peeking over the surface.


    I follow a path made of grey, moss-covered granite slaps that weave through the orchard, leading toward a group of benches made out of bamboo that overlook the water.


    I sit down and exhale, trying to disperse the weight of the unknown pressing against my ribs. I take the compass out again. It still points toward the temple up the hill, on the opposite side of the lake. I came here looking for answers. I hope I am strong enough to discover the truth, the treasure.


    People start to spill out of the village and disperse between the rice paddies like an army of ants. How many are there? A thousand, two thousand, maybe. Some go down to a dock next to the lake and enter small fisher boats also made of bamboo. I wonder how they manage to bend it that way. Maybe they use steam or bend it while the bamboo is still green and somewhat flexible. The boats drift over the lake like fallen leaves. Their slender frames rock gently as the fishermen move over them, preparing their nets. Long poles dip into the depths, leaving ripples spreading outwards in perfect rings. The lily pads sway in their wake, startling a few frogs. Some of them jump into the lake, cutting short their sunning session.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    I peel a mandarin I got from the orchard and watch them in silence, listening to the murmur of voices carried by the breeze. A man stands at the bow of his boat, bare feet steady against the swaying planks as he casts his net in a slow, practiced arc. The woven mesh unfurls against the sky before sinking beneath the water¡¯s surface. Next to him, a kid leans over the edge, peeking into the shallows, his reflection broken by the rippling wake of the fishes that manage to escape the net.


    Another child looks at me. I freeze for a moment, but then he dismisses me and starts tossing silver-scaled fish into a woven basket at his feet while launching the small ones back into the lake. He must have mistaken me for a local, or maybe other visitors pass by from time to time. Coming up from other villages further down the valley or through that tunnel from Minas Kalin.


    The boats drift past me like ghosts across the lake, leaving behind only silence. I feel like here, in this quiet place where citrus trees whisper to the lake, time slows down to match the rhythm of the water¡ªunhurried, eternal.


    I blink. When did those boats get so far away?


    I bite into the almost-forgotten mandarin. A burst of sweetness floods my tongue, balanced by a teasing hint of lingering acidity and the fuzzing sensation of mana. I moan. How can a simple fruit be so tasty? The juices slip over my fingertips, sticky and golden.


    I stroll down to the shoreline to wash my hands. A pair of swans float closer. I watch them step out of the water, waving their tails and spraying drops over my feet. They look at me as if expecting me to feed them, too. I giggle and throw them a few gashes of mandarin. They peck at them but then just let them fall again. One of them snorts a quack and starts waddling back into the water. The other looks at me for the last time and then follows his friend.


    I sit down, feeling a bit disappointed, and dip my toes into the water.


    It¡¯s still too soon to look for an inn and ask the locals about the temple.  I should wait until they come back from their day¡¯s work. Maybe I can pass the time, finally advancing my body tempering.


    I let myself sink into a meditative state. My surroundings drift out of focus and lose meaning, almost as if I took a step back from a beautiful painting. My heartbeats drum louder and deeper. Below it, I can feel my mana core pulsing each time the vortex rotates inside me. Each strike sends a ripple that swallows the silence, flooding my muscles and bones before retreating like an ebb and tide. It feels a bit different than the last time I did this. It¡¯s more fluid. There is less resistance. The walls that impeded mana flow through my body have been slowly eroding over the weeks for some reason. Huh? I also seem to have more control over the flow than ever. It¡¯s easy to guide and concentrate wherever I want.


    Let¡¯s try tempering the skin again. I start guiding mana to the skin of my forearm this time because it feels easier to observe. I ramp it slowly, still remembering how I burned myself the last time I tried this.


    I facepalm. I should have tried to find a manual in Minas Kalin before fleeing to the mountains. Or maybe not. It may have been too risky.


    I let my momentary distraction fade away. There is no sense to dwell on the past. I need to concentrate.


    It seems to be going a bit better this time. The mana density in the skin of my forearm seems to have already reached three or four times the concentration of my last try, and it is just starting to tickle and warm up. Should I increase it? I frown. As far as I know, you are supposed to cram as much mana as you can into the part of the body you are trying to temper, but I feel a bit reluctant. Am I scared of burning myself again? No, no! This won¡¯t do. I increase the intensity as far as I can before it becomes painful. It feels like I can ramp it up way more still. Do I need to barrel through the pain? I take a deep breath, preparing myself.


    ¡°You are doing it wrong, girl,¡± grunts someone behind me in a deep voice.


    I whirl around and leap up into a standing position.


    A man is watching me, clad in a bright pink robe. The arms he has crossed over his chest are hidden inside long sleeves.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask, feeling disoriented.


    ¡°You are doing it wrong,¡± he strokes his white beard, the only indication that he may be older than he looks. His muscles are sleek and toned, and his skin is as smooth as that of a newborn. ¡°Maybe I need to clarify. It¡¯s not that your method is wrong per se. But it¡¯s only useful in a mana-sparse region, where you need to cram every mote of mana you can get into you to advance. The best method to use here is way easier in a way.¡± Oh! I¡¯m an idiot. Or maybe not, but I lack education. I can feel my cheeks turn red in embarrassment. The chasm between social classes has never felt so vast. ¡°Well, calling it tempering method is a stretch even. There isn¡¯t any need for a specific tempering method here. The mana density in these mountains is high enough that your body tempers itself every time you strain and push it over your physical and mental limits.¡± I blink. What? Talk about privilege. They temper themselves here just by doing exercise? ¡°You can accelerate the process by softly flooding yourself with mana while you recuperate. Try it out.¡±


    I flinch. I have given away that I¡¯m not from anywhere close just by how I try to cultivate. I want to throw myself off one of the cliffs surrounding the valley in embarrassment. I thought I was good at blending in.


    I look at the man suspiciously. Why is he helping me? What is his angle? People don¡¯t give out advice for free. There is also something strange happening. I can¡¯t feel the man at all. There is no presence, no mana leaking from him. He feels almost like a mortal. This makes absolutely no sense in this region where everyone I have seen so far is a mage of some grade, even children. A shiver travels down my spine. That is way scarier than if he felt like a strong mage. Could this be the old man those guards were scared of? He doesn¡¯t look old, but it is hard to judge his age. There is a certain gravitas to him. It feels like he is part of this valley. A witness to the passage of time that has been here for ages.


    ¡°How should I do it?¡± I ask. At least for now, he seems friendly. Helpful, even. I probably should try to do as he says until he loses interest in me and try not to offend him.


    ¡°Just let it flow like you did when you started,¡± he says. How long has he been observing me? ¡°Circulate your mana and let it flood every cell of your body. Gently.¡±


    I follow his instructions, letting the ebb and flow embrace me, dissolving all the lingering tensions from my hectic cross over the mountains. I almost moan in pleasure.


    The man chuckles. ¡°It¡¯s easy, isn¡¯t it?¡± He paces around the benches before sitting down and peeling an orange. His gaze never leaves me. I almost can feel it studying me, piercing me, revealing all my secrets. Not that there are many left. I feel exposed. ¡°You are nearly done with your tempering, anyway. You are at more or less 70% to the next level. How long have you been in this region?¡±


    I gasp. ¡°How do you know that I¡¯m not from here?¡±


    He chuckles again. ¡°Well, it¡¯s easy to deduce. You are way too old to still be in the body acclimatization stage if you were born and raised here. Most children that are born here complete it when they are about twelve years old, just from the exposure.¡±


    ¡°The what stage?¡±


    ¡°The body acclimatization stage, or body tempering stage.¡± He looks at me like searching for a reaction. ¡°No? Not from the East or Peruvian. Strange, you look like one of them.¡± I suppress another shiver. This man is dangerous. ¡°You may know it like the bronze stage, the copper stage, or quartz, or whatever else they call it these days to sound fancy.¡± He takes a step toward the lake, looking at the passage of the swans. ¡°It¡¯s all the same, anyways, the second stage of advancement.¡± A boat drifts past. All the fishers bow deeply when they see the white-haired man by my side. ¡°There is no time to lose. We need to get you tested.¡±


    Wait. We need to what?


    The man snaps his fingers, and the valley winks out.

 21-Cozy

    Warmth presses against my skin. It smells of old books, beeswax, and cinnamon. I blink. I stand in the center of a cozy, firelit room. Did that man teleport us? How? I barely felt anything. It was nothing like what I experienced when I stepped through the portal that brought me into this empire. How powerful is he? Where are we?


    The daylight filters through the windows, illuminating shelve after shelve overflowing with bundles of rolled-up parchment and worn tomes, their spines cracked with age.


    ¡°Where did I put it?¡± mumbles the man, whose name I still don¡¯t know. He starts rummaging through the drawers of a closet. ¡°Hmm, not here.¡± He looks up at me. ¡°Sit down, don¡¯t be shy.¡± He points toward a pair of plump armchairs beside a low table by the fireplace, next to the softly cracking embers. ¡°This may take a while.¡±


    I should play along until he loses interest in me, and I can slip away. The floor creaks beneath my hesitant steps, the pelt of a carriage-sized tiger muffling the sound. I let myself sink into one of the armchairs with a sigh. The cushions embrace me like a long-lost friend, soft and warm. A faint scent of roses and jasmine lingers in the upholstery, mingling with the crackle of the fire. What the heck is this made of? I curl my fingers over the rounded arms, tracing the smooth texture, my body surrendering to the quiet comfort. I suddenly feel very drowsy, my eyelids heavy, about to close themselves. I bolt up in alarm. What kind of trap is this?


    The man is still rummaging through another closet. I look out of the window. I can see a courtyard surrounded by a low stonewall spiked with thick bamboo pillars painted red. I have seen this before. We are inside what I thought was a temple. I should forget about whatever the compass may be pointing at. There is no way I could get away with stealing from someone who can teleport around at will. Let¡¯s wait until he finishes this test he talked about and leave.


    I glare at the armchair suspiciously. Could it be enchanted to make you sleepy? I sit down, carefully searching for some change in my mood, but nothing happens this time.


    ¡°Found it!¡± exclaims the man, sounding like an excited child. He walks over, holding a big jade tablet covered in faintly shimmering symbols I have never seen before. He plumps into the other armchair and lays the tablet on the table between us. ¡°Bae, can you brew us some tea?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± says someone in another room in a high-pitched voice.


    Okay, there are even more people here. I will have to keep that in mind when I do my getaway. I look at the deep green tablet. The pale emerald veins that run through it almost look like branches of a tree, hiding slumbering secrets. The carvings on it seem almost alive. They shift in response to something I can¡¯t perceive, whispering forgotten stories in a language I don¡¯t understand. Are those runes?


    No, they are not. At least not the runes I know of. Some lost language, then.


    ¡°Have you ever used one of these before?¡± asks the man.


    ¡°No?¡± I murmur. ¡°What does it do?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It would have been strange if you had,¡± says the man. Instead of explaining what it does, frustratingly. Not that I¡¯m going to complain out loud. ¡°There are not many of these around, you know.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Maybe asking directly will give me some answers about what he wants to do.


    ¡°Well. That is because you need a dungeon core to make one of these. Nobles don¡¯t like it when someone destroys one of their sources of wealth.¡±


    Yeah, good answer. As if I knew what the heck a dungeon is.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I grunt. ¡°How do I use it?¡±


    ¡°Just put your hands here and here and inject some of your mana,¡± he says, pointing at two circular spots without symbols. ¡°But wait, I need to create a profile for you first.¡± He pushes symbol after symbol in a blur until they shift into the common script. ¡°Name?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Minae,¡± I answer, using my crafted persona by inertia.


    ¡°Minae what?¡±


    ¡°Just Minae.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± He looks at me as if doubting or seeing me for the first time. ¡°Interesting¡­,¡± he continues pushing symbols. ¡°You can use it now. Let¡¯s see what we are working with.¡±


    I put my hands on the spots he indicated. The tablet feels cold and smooth under my touch. I inject some mana, not knowing what to expect. More symbols appear, then flicker and shift until falling still.


    <table width="599">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Name: Minae


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Age: 17


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Class: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Cultivation stage: Body Tempering (71%)


    Spirit root: Shadow/Steam


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Spirit pact: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Manapool: (123©¦139)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Attributes


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="196">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="202">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="200">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Strenght


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    97


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    106


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Intelligence


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    88


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    103


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Sensitivity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    107


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    113


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Agility


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    124


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    132


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Creativity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    109


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    115


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Channeling


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    108


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    112


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Dexterity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    119


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    129


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Insight


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    113


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    121


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Shaping


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    44


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    68


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Endurance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    99


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    108


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Resilience


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    105


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    119


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Tolerance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    102


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    103


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Vitality


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    91


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    99


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Perception


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    107


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    115


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Resistance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    69


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    87


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The man whistles. ¡°Not bad¡­ Not bad at all. Your stats may not be at the level of a genius, chosen by the heavens, but they are firmly in the low-superior range for your advancement stage.¡± He looks at me, taking in my baffled face. ¡°You don¡¯t know what that means? Hmm. Let me explain.¡± He strokes his chin.¡± Your attributes are better than those of almost all the noble brats nowadays. That means you are stronger, faster, and more perceptive than nearly anybody at your same cultivation stage.¡±


    ¡°What? How?¡± I ask, feeling a bit stunned.


    ¡°Oh! That is easy to explain. You got into the empire¡¯s heartlands only a short while ago and advanced here, and the place where you lived before was sparse in mana, right?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, yeah,¡± I admit. How does he know that?


    He strokes his chin again. ¡°You won¡¯t understand anything if I don¡¯t explain what the tablet reads a bit more.¡± Something clinks in the corridor next to the room we are in. I can hear soft steps and someone humming in a low voice. ¡°You can see that the tablet differentiates between effective and potential attributes, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­, I do.¡± The humming comes closer.


    ¡°Effective refers to a measure of how high one of your attributes is at a given moment. You can increase that with training. Are you following me?¡±


    ¡°Sure, seems self-explaining. Your potential is the maximum you can reach?¡± That seems wrong for some reason. I have seen high-ranking mages moving faster than my eyes can follow. How much agility, strength, or whatever attribute is needed to increase your speed to they have? Three hundred? Four hundred? Does this mean I¡¯ll never be able to become like them?


    ¡°Yes and no, potential measures the theoretical maximum you can reach in an attribute without increasing your cultivation stage.¡± The humming stops a few paces away behind the wall. Each time you advance, your potential increases depending on the quality of your breakthrough and how highly you have managed to train your attributes. A normal breakthrough increases your potential stats by between 20% and 30% of your effective stats, and a peak breakthrough by about 40%. That¡¯s why you should always train your effective stats to at least 90% of your potential before ranking up, and try to aim for a peak breakthrough, or you will slowly fall behind the elite of your peers.¡±


    The door of the room opens. ¡°I brought your tea, Master Wen, yip!¡± exclaims an exuberant young woman who reminds me a bit of Yuileen. She has similar red hair, a stubby nose, and big fox ears pointing out over her head. Wait, fox ears? I rub my eyes. Are those real?


    The man, Wen, sighs. ¡°You know you don¡¯t have to call me master, Bae.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but I do it because I like it, yip!¡± She comes over and puts a tray on the space left beside the jade tablet and a teacup in front of each of us.


    Steam curls in delicate ribbons from my cup as she pours, the soft clink of porcelain the only sound in the suddenly quiet room. The fire crackles as a log breaks apart under the heat, making her fox ears twitch slightly. She lifts the teapot with practiced grace and moves over to Wen¡¯s cup, filling it with the same careful precision. The scent of jasmine, oranges, and something spicy drifts between us, wrapping around the moment like an unspoken promise of warmth.


    I watch her wide-eyed, hands curled in my lap. Should I reach for the cup, or do I need to wait? Is there some etiquette I need to follow?


    The man takes his cup without hesitation, seeming to have forgotten about me for an instant. He inhales deeply before taking a slow sip. A quiet hum of approval slips past his lips. The woman¡¯s tail flicks behind her before settling again. She grins briefly before looking at me, setting the teapot down gently.


    I hesitate for an instant under her inquisitive eyes. What is she looking at? I lift my teacup. Warmth seeps into my fingertips. I take a cautious sip.


    The taste blooms across my tongue, delicate yet bright, like sunlight filtering through the clouds. My eyes widen. The woman¡¯s ears twitch. She smiles at me knowingly.


    ¡°It¡¯s tasty, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I admit.


    Tasty doesn¡¯t even begin to describe it. The floral sweetness of the jasmine unfurls slowly, lingering at the edges of each breath. The sharp and playful citrus cuts through the softness with a burst. Both flavors weave together seamlessly, balanced by the deep grounding earthiness of the tea itself, cradling them. It is also so rich in mana that my lips become all fuzzy.


    ¡°So, after what I have told you. Can you guess why your attributes are better than those of most of the empire¡¯s noble brats of your advancement stage?¡±


    ¡°What, me?¡± I ask. Both look at me in anticipation. How should I know? ¡°Err. It can¡¯t be because they are born weaker. Nobles always take pride in their superior breeding.¡±


    ¡°They do, those cousin-fuckers,¡± snickers Bae.


    The man rolls his eyes. ¡°True, more nobles are born with higher-than-average potential than the general population.¡± He takes another sip from his tea. ¡°To give you an idea, 100 is the maximum potential in a single attribute a human can be born with. That is very rare, though. Everything above 80 is considered superior potential in an attribute. More than 95 is peak potential. Most people have some attributes in which they have great potential and others in which they are worse. That is why, to consider someone a genius or not, we take an aggregate of all their attributes. Thus, those born with more than 1200 aggregated potential attributes are considered to be of superior breeding. That is about 5% of the population. You must have more than 1425 aggregated potential attributes to be considered a peak genius at birth. That is very rare. Maybe one in a billion is born a peak genius, and most squander their potential nowadays.¡± He takes another sip. Looking at me expectantly, like waiting for me to continue my train of thought.


    Okay? But why am I stronger than nobles of my advancement then? Wait! The people I have encountered in this empire all have high advancement stages, even kids. ¡°Could it be because they advance too soon without maximizing their effective stats?¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± exclaims Wen, eyes gleaming.


    ¡°She is smart,¡± says Bae, winking at me.


    ¡°For some reason, they only care about the speed of their advancement. The fools! As if a few years more would let them reach further or give them enough time to become immortals before wasting away.¡±


    ¡°You hear them boasting all the time about their so-called geniuses that reached whatever cultivation stage at eight or ten years of age,¡± snickers Bae, her tail waving around wildly. ¡°Fools! They are just ruining their foundation.¡±


    ¡°Well, some of them compensate for it later using alchemy if they are wealthy enough,¡± admits Wen. ¡°But that has limits and secondary effects. Most importantly, it makes it more difficult to achieve peak-quality breakthroughs. You need to suffer and improve yourself with your own efforts to achieve greatness.¡± He takes the last sip of his tea and waits for Bae to serve him another cup. ¡°Apart from maximizing your attributes, the moment of your breakthrough is important. You need enough willpower to push hard enough to achieve superior or peak breakthroughs. If you lack willpower, all of your breakthroughs will be mediocre. You could almost consider it a hidden stat that doesn¡¯t appear on any reading. That¡¯s why people have forgotten about it. You need to struggle to increase it. That is why taking too many shortcuts only harms you later on.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± I feel like gears are turning in my head. ¡°You won¡¯t ever be able to maximize your attributes before you grow up, right?¡±


    ¡°Go on,¡± acknowledges Wen.


    ¡°But that would mean that it is bad to be born in a mana-dense region like here because you will almost certainly advance at least one stage before becoming an adult without even doing anything to increase your cultivation speed.¡± I gasp. ¡°That is why my foundation is better. It is because I ranked up already a grown-up.¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Wen looks at me like a proud parent, smiling from ear to ear.


    ¡°But the nobles should know something like that.¡± This makes no sense. Are they telling me the truth?


    ¡°Well, some of them do. The emperor and some of the older noble families send their most promising scions to be raised far from here before bringing them back when they become adults. But most don¡¯t think it is important and that alchemy can compensate for any shortcomings.¡±


    I blink. ¡°But why?¡±


    Bae snickers again. ¡°Because they are idiots.¡±


    Wen sighs, rolling his eyes. ¡°Because of politics, disinformation spread by the emperor because he fears that others may become too powerful.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I drain the last sip of already cold tea from my cup. The sudden emptiness makes me feel a bit sad. ¡°I lucked out then, not being from anywhere near here. Who would believe that?¡±


    ¡°Wait, you are not Peruvian?¡± asks Bae. Her eyes whirl from me to Wen and back.


    ¡°What? No.¡± I wish I could have kept it hidden, but Wen discovered it himself.


    Bae comes over and starts poking and sniffing at me. I let her do it, even if it makes me feel uncomfortable. She pulls at my lips to check my teeth like a horse trader. Then, she looks at the reading on the tablet.


    ¡°Hmm. Steam and shadow aspected spirit root. You are definitively Peruvian and a noble, too. Or at least a bastard.¡±


    ¡°What? No, I¡¯m not!¡± I exclaim, finally free from her inquisitive fingers. ¡°I would know if I was some blueblood. I¡¯m from nowhere close to here. I was born in the Solarian kingdom.¡±


    ¡°The Solarian kingdom? Yeah, right, and I¡¯m some common mutt.¡± Bae snickers. Then her eyes widen almost comically. ¡°I know! I know.¡± Her tail whirls wildly. ¡°They have returned, huh? Let me guess. You were raised in some orphanage, supplementing your diet with what you could find in the wilds or pilfering in the streets until some mysterious mentor came along, took pity on you, and offered to protect and train you.¡±


    I blink and look at her, feeling smaller than ever in the giant armchair. Am I an open book that everyone who sees me can read? ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    She grins at me. ¡°Those with spirit roots like yours are rare and coveted in certain circles because it is the best for those on a rogue path.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never trained a rogue. The Peruvians have never managed to send me one of their scions,¡± interjects Wen.


    ¡°Everyone knows that old man!¡± exclaims Bae, glaring at the interruption. He hides his face behind his cup. ¡°As I was saying.¡± She continues, smiling at me. ¡°The problem is that everybody born with that spirit root comes from one of the Peruvian noble lineages and tends to be loyal to their clans.¡± She starts pacing towards the fire and stokes the flames with a stick. ¡°A few centuries ago, it became popular to kidnap Peruvian noble children and bastards right out of their cribs and then raise them somewhere far away to create loyal followers and assassins for this or that gang.¡± She looks back at me. ¡°Does it sound familiar?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Disturbingly so. The Crow, that bastard. It can¡¯t be, can it? I can¡¯t believe it. He definitively would do something like that. Judging by his takeover of the gangs in Minas Kalin, he also knew this region. I can feel the anger crawling up inside me, slow and insidious, like magma pressing against the fragile earth at the bottom of a volcano. I can¡¯t believe it. I could have grown up as a pampered noble instead of fighting with the rest of the poor bastards of the orphanage for the few scraps they gave us and the best forage spots in the forest that surrounded our city. That bastard! The burning sensation flares up in my chest, a wildfire catching dry kindling. I tense, teeth clenched. The world around me seems to blur at the edges, swallowed by the pounding in my ears, the rush of blood demanding action. I¡¯m going to kill him. Some day, I will kill him.


    ¡°Hush, hush. It¡¯s over now,¡± whispers someone in my ear. Bae. When did she come so close?


    I melt into her warm embrace, sobbing like a child. ¡°Sorry,¡± I mutter. My hands shake.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother, yip, let it out.¡± She smiles at me like a scheming villain. ¡°Who would have thought someone would be brave enough to do it again after the Patriarchs rooted out the last bunch who tried? At least, now that you know about it, he will never beguile you again, and you can plan your revenge.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I mutter. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Bae grins. ¡°I wonder what you will do. Will you expose him to the patriarchs or end him yourself?¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± Wen lets us know that he is still here. ¡°Can you train her until she maxes out her attributes as far as she can, Bae?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Sure!¡± exclaims the fox girl, embracing me harder. "She will be my new little sister, the greatest rogue ever.¡±


    I will be your what?


    ¡°Great,¡± says Wen, standing up. ¡°We have about a month for her to rank up. I need to prepare some alchemy¡­¡± He looks at me. His eyes seem to pierce my few remaining secrets like a judge or a scholar studying some exotic bug. ¡°The crucible pills should do the job.¡±


    ¡°We are going to have the super-duper-best time together, yip!¡± Exclaims Bae, wagging her tail like a hurricane.


    I blink, dumbfounded. ¡°Why are both of you trying to help me.¡±


    Wen stops at the door and looks at me. ¡°Because you won the competition to become my new apprentice.¡±


    ¡°I did what?¡±


    ¡°Wait? You didn¡¯t know?¡± Wen bursts out into roaring laughter. ¡°How did you even get here? This is going to be so much fun! I can¡¯t wait to see the faces of all those scheming idiots.¡±


    Bae starts laughing out loud, too, holding her belly.


    I look at them, not understanding anything. ¡°How did I win some competition?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that,¡± says Wen. ¡°You are the first to arrive at my doorstep with one of my beacons this cycle. Thus, you won.¡±


    I blink again. ¡°Your what?¡± That explains nothing.


    ¡°My beacon, you have it hidden in your spatial ring. It looks like a compass.¡±


    Shit, he knows. Oh. Oh! Wait, this isn¡¯t bad. Is it? They don¡¯t seem to want to kill me for it. This is so confusing. I take the compass out. The needle quivers and points toward Wen. I move the compass to the side. It still points toward him. Huh?


    ¡°Wait, you said one of your beacons. Are there more of them?¡± If there are, why was everyone so crazy about getting mine?


    ¡°Sure, it wouldn¡¯t be a race after all if there was only one,¡± he explains. ¡°Let¡¯s see where the others are?¡± His eyes seem to glaze over for a second. ¡°Hmm. One is mired down in the mud at the bottom of some river, and the other is hidden in some vault in Minas Kalin. Huh? Strange, what are they waiting for? They must be related to those guards blocking up the tunnel. Whatever. One day, you must tell me how you managed to slip past them without being noticed.¡± His eyes turn normal again. ¡°Now it is time to start training, hop hop!¡±

 22-Taskmaster

    The buckets bite into my palms as I trudge up the winding path. With each step I take, the water inside sloshes, threatening to spill over. Besides me, Bae jogs and jumps along, whistling and humming carefree. When did I agree to this? It doesn¡¯t even make sense. They get water up there straight from the irrigation canals. Why should I bring water up from the lake only for training? I feel like those rodents running on a wheel the children in the slums used to make bets about. I bet that Bae only makes me do this because the suffering of others makes her feel pleasure.


    ¡°So, I was wondering,¡± she speaks directly next to my ear, making me flinch and almost stumble. The buckets pull me forward, and I take a hasty step to recover my balance. ¡°So skittish,¡± she snickers. ¡°Don¡¯t forget your surroundings. You need to train your perception, too. What could help with that?¡± She curls her hair with one of her fingers. ¡°I know!¡±


    I see her dart into the distance in a blur. A few heartbeats later, a pebble flies straight towards my belly. I barely have time to evade. The water sloshes hard, making the buckets bite even deeper into my palms. ¡°Do you need to do that?¡± I complain.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Bae wags her tail, grinning widely. She throws another pebble. This time, I see it coming early, which makes it easier to evade. ¡°It will help you keep aware of your surroundings and dodge harm. That should help you train your perception and agility.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I mutter, unconvinced that this is the best way, but who am I to judge? I have become a simple farmhand, a laborer whose opinion doesn¡¯t matter.


    The sun is barely cresting above the tree line. Sweat already rolls over my forehead in glistering beads that mix with the dust that clings to my skin on its way down my temples. My arms burn, my shoulders ache, and my legs feel like stiff, wooden tree trunks that creak and groan, resisting every step forward.


    ¡°As I was saying.¡± Bae¡¯s voice seems distant, coming from everywhere and nowhere. ¡°How did you pull off getting past those guards they posted at the tunnel?¡± She dances past me, a spring in her step. ¡°I checked it yesterday. They filled the whole length of it with wards and traps. Crazy bastards!¡±


    I put the buckets down to recover enough of my breath to answer. ¡°I didn¡¯t go through the tunnel. I climbed over the mountain.¡± A faster pebble flies towards me, biting into the shin of my right leg before I can react. ¡°Ouch!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop,¡± admonishes Bae. I glare at her but lift the buckets again to continue with this torture. ¡°You ought to max out your strength and endurance before you rank up. I know that can be hard when you are already close to your potential.¡± She shrugs and interlaces her hands, almost as if apologizing. ¡°But on the bright side, this will help to increase your willpower.¡±


    Sure, who would have known that trying to become a great mage meant that you have to grow indifferent to suffering?


    I sigh as I reach the top of the hill. Bae already stands there with her arms folded, watching with the detached gaze of someone measuring raw material before deciding how to forge it. She seems to pretend to impersonate a stern taskmaster, even though her wagging tail betrays her excitement.


    I dump the water into a pond, trying not to feel envious of the glowing fish lazing around. Then I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my sleeve, trying not to slump my shoulders and betray my exhaustion.


    ¡°Again,¡± says Bae in a deep voice that doesn¡¯t correspond with her throat. ¡°Let¡¯s race back to the lake!¡±


    I didn¡¯t argue. There is no point. Losing means more training. I know I will lose, not just because I need to carry the empty buckets with me. Her advancement stage is way higher than mine. But I know that not putting enough effort into trying means she will push me even harder with every additional chore she can think of. Yesterday, she made me chop wood for hours, help the villagers carry logs of bamboo and sacks of rice up and down the hills, haul water, swim up the stream trying to catch the slippery trout darting past me with my bare hands, weed herbs out of the flooded paddies and unclog the water channels that feed them. In the evening, my arms trembled so much I could barely lift a glass of water. The bamboo sticks they used to eat instead of cutlery kept slipping through my fingers until Bae took pity on me and allowed me to eat with my hands.


    When I finally arrive at the lake, huffing and panting, Bae is already waiting there. She even found time to pull off her shoes, sit down, and dip her toes into the water. She giggles while small fish nibble at her skin.


    ¡°Oh! You are finally here!¡± She observes how I fill my buckets again. ¡°Not bad, but we can still improve your speed.¡± A few boats drift by. Some of the fishers greet us, waving their hands. Every peasant living in the village seems to know me already, even if I can¡¯t remember any of their names. ¡°Sit down for a minute and eat a few mandarins. You need to replenish your mana and strength every once in a while to continue training.¡±


    I let myself fall onto my buttocks. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Bae snickers. She looks at me, then at the mandarins. I¡¯m about to peel the first one. ¡°Wait!¡± she exclaims. I flinch. What now? ¡°Do you know how to juggle?¡±


    ¡°A bit?¡± I did try it out for a stint as an entertainer at the market. Not that I was ever good at it. I used it to distract while Dante cut the purses of the crowd. I sigh, remembering that I will never see him again.


    ¡°Great!¡± exclaims Bae. ¡°I will show you tricks and the technique you need to build up to juggling five, six, and seven mandarins.¡± I blink, dumbfounded. Seven mandarins? Did she lose her mind? ¡°This will help you train your dexterity and perception. And it is funny.¡± She giggles and grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ¡°If you let them fall too many times, too bad for you. You will have only mush left to eat.¡±


    I sigh again. ¡°Great.¡±


    ¡°So, how did you manage to cross the mountain at your advancement level?¡± she asks. One of the mandarins falls, bursting open after impacting the ground. Does she expect me to converse with her on top of it? It would be easier if she stopped distracting me. ¡°The Ice spirits are ferocious and deadly.¡±


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t¡­ know¡­¡± The remaining mandarins wobble until I stabilize the pattern without dropping another one. ¡°By crossing?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, strange¡­,¡± she mutters. ¡°Did you meet Kylo? I¡¯m training him too.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    She claps her hands. ¡°Oh! He will love to have a training partner when I introduce you to him!¡± Okay? But you haven¡¯t explained who this Kylo is. Bae looks at me, at the runes on my arms and those peeking out under the hem of my shirt. ¡°What is this? Seal mana, seal heat, and Invisibility.¡± How can she read them so fast after barely glimpsing at them? ¡°So, you used body runes. Smart. Haven¡¯t seen that in a long time.¡±


    Huh? It may be an opportunity I can¡¯t let slip. ¡°Why¡­ don¡¯t¡­ more¡­ people use them?¡±


    Bae throws my fallen mandarin towards me, nearly making me lose control of the rest of them. ¡°Good question.¡± She leans back, supporting herself on her elbows, letting the sunlight bathe her. ¡°They used to be very popular a few centuries ago, but then people stopped using them here in the empire in favor of just using techniques inscribed in their meridians.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Well, there are a bunch of different reasons.¡± Bae¡¯s eyes grow distant, seeming lost in thought. ¡°First, while body runes can give you a lot of versatility, the power they can exert is limited by the ink¡¯s quality you can obtain. Most people think that they lack power at higher advancement stages compared to the power of advanced techniques. That is why you hear them say it is a broken or an inferior path. Even though versatility has a quality of its own.¡± She sits back up, tossing me another mandarin that has fallen with a smile. ¡°There are also cultural and political reasons.¡±


    ¡°Cultural reasons?¡± I try to ignore the sticky juices clinging to my hands, delaying each toss by a fraction of a heartbeat.


    ¡°Yeah! When the latest conflict with the Underdark started, people confused body runes with the holy sigils the goblins use to commune and channel the power of the spirits they worship. Some idiots started throwing wild accusations around until nearly everybody thought that users of body runes were consorting with the enemy or some other nonsense.¡±


    ¡°But that¡­ is stupid.¡±


    ¡°Completely,¡± admits Bae with a snicker. ¡°A lot of you humans can be complete morons that believe everything some other idiot tells them.¡± Her hand flashes out in a blur, catching a shimmering trout that tries to wiggle out of her grasp in panic. ¡°It wasn¡¯t until the latest trade agreement with the dwarves and their runic artifacts that everybody learned to tell the difference.¡± She bites down on the fish¡¯s head, ending its struggles. ¡°But enough chitchat. Eat up what¡¯s left of your mandarins. We have more training to do up in the courtyard.¡±


    Bae¡¯s tail flicks from side to side as she sifts through a weapon rack. Her ears twitch each time the steel clatters against the wood. She looks up at me. ¡°What kind of weapon have you used?¡±


    ¡°Just the bow and daggers,¡± I answer, intimidated by her intensity.


    ¡°The bow? Great! We can use that to train your strength and perception.¡± She says, lashing her tail again. I sigh in frustration, trying to massage life back into my aching arms. ¡°But maybe we will leave it for tomorrow, once you have recovered a bit, along with dancing lessons to increase your agility.¡± She grins at me. ¡°You wobble too much right now.¡±


    She goes back to rummage through the rack. I shift from foot to foot, trying to find a position that doesn¡¯t ache. I take the opportunity to circulate mana through my muscles in an attempt at recovery. It seems to work, although slowly.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see, neither axes nor maces. You don¡¯t need more strength training.¡± She looks at me judgingly. ¡°Some kind of sword to train your dexterity and maybe the spear, but which ones?¡± She snatches up a straight, double-edged longsword and turns it in her hands, feeling the balance. ¡°Nah. Your agility and dexterity are higher than your strength. You need something fast and versatile. You will have the spear for wild beasts because you don¡¯t want them to get close. Maybe you can dual-wield against humanoids.¡± She turns to glance at me again, sizing me up. ¡°But what to try? Saber and buckler? Sword and parrying dagger? Hmm. Maybe we will decide later.¡± She lifts a simple spear, just a leaf-shaped piece of iron embedded on a straight wooden stick, a bit taller than I am. ¡°Catch!¡±


    I fumble, nearly tossing it, but catch the shaft at the last moment. It feels smooth and worn under my touch.


    Bae takes up another spear herself. ¡°We will start with this, she says.¡± Twirling it around in a blur. ¡°The basics are simple to learn. You pierce with the pointy end, and you parry with the shaft. You can also whack someone over the head if piercing them doesn¡¯t work. Follow me!¡± She starts walking over to the center of the courtyard. ¡°There is more to it naturally. Mastery takes time, as with everything. Let¡¯s start with footwork. If you don¡¯t hurt yourself or cut off your feet this week, I may show you more. If you feel comfortable using it, we may choose it as your main weapon.¡± I look at her dubiously. She snickers. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we won¡¯t choose anything before you have tried out other weapons, too. Now observe and repeat what I do as best as you can.¡±


    The dirt shifts beneath my feet as I struggle to keep up. The butt of my spear drags behind as I move.  I stumble again, nearly losing my balance from excessive momentum. There are just too many small details to bear in mind, small shifts in posture that accompany every movement and every strike.


    Bae sighs, her ears flicker in frustration. ¡°Again,¡± she barks, stepping forward and spinning her spear in a lazy arc before snapping it forward until the tip stops, a hairbreadth from piercing my shirt. ¡°Slow down if you need to. Your feet are falling behind. You can¡¯t stick them in the ground like roots. It has to flow together. Once you learn that, you can increase the speed, react to your opponent, and control the space around you.¡± She steps back, demonstrating again how to do a proper lunge. Her footwork is light and fluid. Her body shifts with the natural rhythm of the weapon, accelerating it in a snap. ¡°Can you see it? Every step is an attack. Every retreat is a trap designed to make your opponent overextend himself. If you don¡¯t learn that, you are just some idiot swinging a stick.¡±


    I swallow, adjusting my grip and resetting my stance. The spear feels even heavier in my hands, but I push forward, determined to earn approval.


    ¡°Better,¡± she praises me. ¡°Turn your forward foot until it is in line with the direction of your thrust. It will help you keep your balance and react faster.¡±


    A white shadow moves behind Bae between the cherry trees surrounding the courtyard. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see it sneak closer, spotted fur as high as my waist and blue eyes that glare at me. I know this big cat! It¡¯s that bastard that tried to hunt me up in the mountains. What is he doing here?


    ¡°Umm, Bae?¡±


    She stops mid-lunge and looks at me. ¡°What?¡±


    I point to the white shadow under the trees, maybe fifty steps away. ¡°There is a leopard.¡±


    She whirls around in a blur. ¡°Kylo! You have come to play!¡± Wait, this is Kylo? The guy she told me about. I blink, puzzled. But he is a feline! He huffs at us, glaring at me again. ¡°Great improvement to your stealth, but I would have sensed you anyway if you stepped a bit closer,¡± says Bae with a snicker. Kylo huffs again. ¡°Come over. Don¡¯t be shy now.¡±


    Slowly, the big cat steps out of the shadow of the trees. He jumps over the low stone wall encircling the courtyard and trots over. Bae kneels and embraces him, ruffling his pelt. He glares at me over her shoulder, clearly remembering our encounter. Then he growls at me.


    Bae stands up and holds him by the nape like a misbehaving kitten. ¡°Be nice,¡± she admonishes him. ¡°That is Minae. I¡¯m training her, too. She can be your new sister in arms.¡± The leopard looks at me dubiously, huffing again. ¡°This is Kylo, I started training him since his mom became tired of his antics. He is close to awakening and becoming sapient.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± I mutter, feeling suddenly out of place.


    Bae looks down at the leopard, then back at me, her eyes glimmer. ¡°We seem to have gotten another training partner. What should we do?¡±


    Wait. Why is she grinning from ear to ear? The leopard gives me a panicked look. Shit!

 23-Creativity

    Keen amber eyes asses me. Bae flickers her ears at every tiny sound of my dragging feet. The air smells of the earth we stir up with each step and of blooming cherry trees. A soft breeze ruffles the leaves, carrying the distant chirps of excited birds building their nest somewhere in anticipation of the coming spring.


    I look at her predatory gaze, trying to anticipate her next strike. She steps to the side to reposition herself, closing the distance. Her muscles twitch and tense like a coiled viper. I exhale sharply and shift my stance, right foot forward, knee slightly flexed, left foot trailing behind. I hold my sword in a middle guard, pointing towards the woman''s face, trying not to let it drop from fatigue. We have been at this for hours. My arms ache even harder than those days when she made me carry all that water up the hill. Sweat drops down my brow. The pommel of the sword feels slick between my trembling fingers. I grit my teeth. I refuse to falter.


    She strikes forward with a diagonal downward slash. Her blade flashes, reflecting the rising sun. I shift further, trying to deflect it, peeking through my momentary blindness. But she hammers through my parry and hits my shoulder with her dull training sword.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± I exclaim, rubbing my aching muscles to relieve the pain.


    She stands at ease, grinning. Her tail sways behind her like a fan. ¡°Again! Don¡¯t fall asleep.¡±


    I step back to gain enough distance to raise my sword unimpeded. ¡°How do you want me to parry one of your strikes when you are three times stronger than me?¡± I complain. ¡°You hit like the kick of an ox.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hitting that hard. Even if I did, it doesn¡¯t matter. Stop whining and concentrate.¡±


    I scoff. ¡°Are you mocking me?¡± I feel tempted to leave the valley for the umpteenth time these past weeks. Why am I still putting up with what this crazy woman calls training? Now that I know there is no treasure, I could go anywhere. I don¡¯t think they would prevent me from leaving. Why should I be their apprentice just because they say so? I never asked for it.


    ¡°What? No!¡± answers Bae. ¡°I would never.¡± She steps closer, adjusting my stance. ¡°Strength doesn¡¯t matter all that much in a sword fight. It¡¯s not a hammer. I told you it is a dexterity-based weapon. It¡¯s all about structure. The trick is to absorb the incoming blows with your whole body behind the blade. It¡¯s all about finesse, timing, and using your and your opponent¡¯s momentum.¡±


    Okay. I am still putting up with it because I am improving. These training methods may be even crazier than those The Crow put me through, but I can¡¯t deny that they work. I¡¯ll need to fend for myself wherever I go after this. Good trainers are hard to find and expensive. If they want to continue training me for free, let them. If there is a scam at play, I¡¯m incapable of understanding it. Maybe I¡¯m still staying because Bae¡¯s cooking is divine. When she is not beating me to death, she pampers me like the dotting mother I never knew.


    Why am I even questioning it? It may be the best thing that happened to me in my life. I feel like an imposter. I am in a dream that can crash in a heartbeat once someone realizes I am trash, just a street rat, a thief, not who I am supposed to be. Am I who I¡¯m supposed to be?


    I sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t know if the sword is my weapon of choice. I liked the spear better.¡±


    ¡°Try it out a few more days before deciding which weapon to focus on. Even if you don¡¯t master it, being familiar with swords will help you react better whenever you encounter and clash with one. Most noble knights use it as their primary weapon in this era.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I grumble. I readjust my stance again, a bit further to the left so the sun stops shining into my face.


    It seems that Bae notices it because she grins at me knowingly. "Step, pivot, cut!" she barks, and I move. My boots scuff against the dirt as I strike forward.


    Steel whistles through the air. I clang the lower part of my blade against the weaker end of her sword. It rebounds sideways, leaving an opening. I lunge forward, seizing the momentum, aiming the tip of my sword toward her seemingly exposed neck. She pivots to the side and transitions into a hanging guard, catching my sword and guiding it past her before countering in a twirl. I barely have time to step back and intercept myself. Our swords clang together, sending a jolt through my arms, but my stance holds. I watch my sword, not able to believe it.


    ¡°Better,¡± praises Bae. ¡°But still too slow. Don¡¯t think so much before you move. You need to repeat this until it becomes instinctive. If you hesitate in battle, you are dead.¡±


    I grit my teeth, adjusting my grip. ¡°I¡¯m trying.¡±


    Bae circles me, her tail flicking. ¡°Trying is not enough. You need to put your soul into it. You fight like prey as if your objective is disengaging to have time to run away. You need a shift in mentality. You are not prey. You are a predator. Stop thinking like a street rat and think like a warrior.¡±


    I lunge forward again. Our blades meet with a sharp clack, getting stuck in a bind. Bae presses forward, forcing me to retreat so as not to get impaled. I hold my ground until I stumble over a stone and falter. A heartbeat later, my sword flies out of my hands and skids across the dirt. I gasp, feeling vulnerable without a weapon.


    Bae lowers her sword. ¡°Not bad. You are improving, but you need to work on your footwork and awareness of your surroundings. Anticipate the problems. Make the environment work in your favor, not against you. Feel the movement before it happens.


    I wipe my brow, frustrated. ¡°Easy for you to say. You¡¯ve probably been swinging swords for centuries.¡±


    A smirk tugs at her lips. Her ears twitch. ¡°True, but you have something I didn¡¯t when I started.¡±


    Aha! Got you! I knew that she was older than she looked. How high is her advancement stage to still look so young? ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I ask.


    She extends a hand to help me up. ¡°Me!¡±


    I scoff, then laugh, letting her pull me up. ¡°Very funny,¡± I say, rolling my eyes.


    My fingers ache, my muscles burn, but I retrieve my sword again, determined to improve.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough for today,¡± acknowledges Bae half a bell later, once she has battered me black and blue, and I am barely able to move anymore. ¡°We need to start working on your mental and mana attributes. ¡°Come!¡±


    I follow her to a group of benches next to a table in front of one of the many ponds in the yard. I circulate mana through my body to wash the pain and tiredness out of my barely functional muscles. Even though I feel like a beaten dog, I am intrigued about what she may have prepared.


    She disappears inside the house and reappears seconds later with a pile of books.


    ¡°What are those?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Runic manuals,¡± she answers, grinning and winking at me. My heart skips a beat. Is this a dream? I watch in a daze how she puts the books down on the table with an exaggerated huff. ¡°As I said, we need to work on your mental attributes. Knowing that you like runes, this seems the best way.¡±


    I leaf through one manual after the other, barely aware of how she looks at me, grinning from ear to ear. ¡°This¡­, this is awesome!¡±


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    ¡°I knew you would like it.¡± She sits down a few paces away, next to the pond. ¡°I want you to design five different runes that can condense water out of thin air without repeating a single component between them.¡±


    I blink and look at her. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Okay, you can use the same connectors if you need to. I know there is not a lot of variety in them, and they need to be compatible with what you are working on, but the rest of the components need to be different. Be as creative as you want, as long as the result is functional.¡± She looks toward the sun, shifting closer to the zenith. ¡°You have one bell to finish before showing me the results. Sketch them in your book with non-magical ink.¡±


    The world around me disappears. There are only runes and endless possibilities. Who would have thought that there is such variety? A few of them would help me improve the ones I have equipped. I could make my invisibility two times more efficient, maybe. I need to focus. I don¡¯t have a lot of time. Maybe Bae will let me study these books later. Let¡¯s start. What are those? Filtering runes. Those should work if I can find the right ones. What do I need to make a functional rune based on them?


    ¡°Ouch!¡± A stinging pain in my calf pulls me out of my focused trance. A pebble falls to the ground at my feet. I look towards Bae. She still sits next to the pond, whistling a playful tune. There is a pile of more pebbles neatly arranged next to her hand. I glare at her. ¡°Why?¡±


    She grins at me. ¡°I told you that you need to work on your awareness.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± I huff. Knowing Bae, it couldn¡¯t be that simple. ¡°But isn¡¯t this a bit excessive? How can I evade your throws when I have to sit down to read?¡±


    She grins like an imp. ¡°You don¡¯t need to move physically to stop a simple pebble. You want to learn magic, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I admit, wondering what she has in mind.


    ¡°Well, it is time to improve your mana shaping.¡± She shifts, leaning away from the pond, angling her body to throw at me even faster. ¡°I know that it is by far your worst attribute. You will probably never be able to become an Elementalist or some other path that relies on it, but that isn¡¯t an excuse not to shore up your weaknesses.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I groan. ¡°What do I need to do?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy. Just expel some mana imbued with the idea of hardness, impassability, or stability in the direction of every pebble I throw at you. To intercept the pebbles before they touch you until it becomes instinctive. What I want you to learn is raw mana manipulation.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll try.¡± I¡¯ve never tried something like that. I hope it won¡¯t be too difficult. ¡°But how do you expect me to concentrate on assembling new runes if you keep distracting me?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s precisely why we are doing this!¡± exclaims Bae, eyes sparkling. ¡°Multitasking is a great skill to develop and one of the best ways to push you over your limits when you are already close to maxing out your stats.¡±


    ¡°Uff,¡± I sigh, pouting. Bae snickers.


    ¡°I told you that the closer you are to your potential, the harder it is to continue to improve. You need drastic methods, or you will stall. But it is worth it, trust me.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    I try to concentrate on the runes again. ¡°Ouch!¡± A pebble impacts my forearm, making me lose my grip on my pencil and smear ink over my half-finished design. I glare at Bae. She snickers again, hiding her mouth behind her palm.


    I look up. How does this mana manipulation nonsense work? Expelling mana is easy. ¡°Ouch!¡± Hardening it enough to stop the pebbles and timing it right is hard. ¡°Ouch!¡± I¡¯m too slow. ¡°Ouch!¡± I ought to react before the pebble leaves her hand and anticipate where she is throwing. ¡°Ouch!¡± Another pebble flies. I expel mana. Harden! The pebble stops a fingerbreadth before reaching my belly. I blink, bewildered. It worked. ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Nice, you are getting the hang of it,¡± praises Bae. ¡°But the sand is falling.¡±


    Shit! I need to start this design again. ¡°Ouch!¡± And divide my attention.  I can feel my mana dipping lower. Am I being too wasteful? A sudden thought crosses my mind. ¡°Emm, Bae.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Can you teach me a better gathering vortex for my core? Mine is still tin rank.¡±


    I feel her gaze studying me. She even has stopped throwing pebbles. ¡°There isn¡¯t much sense in changing it now. You are getting close to the next rank already, and it would be a waste of time, considering you will need to change it again once you advance. Also, in high mana density areas, a slower gathering core gives you more control over your advancement, making it easier and smoother, which will help you achieve a better advancement quality.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I sigh, disappointed. I would love to be able to try out and use more advanced body runes. ¡°Bae, why can¡¯t we engrave normal runes with a gatherer instead of a feeder on our bodies?¡±


    ¡°Who told you that you can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°What? You can?¡± I blink. If I could use runes that gather ambient mana instead of feeding on my own, there would be no limit to the quantity of runes I can use!


    ¡°Sure, why shouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Why don¡¯t people do it then?¡±


    ¡°Because there do are a few problems and drawbacks.¡±


    I knew it was too good to be true. Is she just teasing me? ¡°What kind of drawbacks?¡±


    ¡°Well. First, there is the matter of control. With a feeder, you create a direct connection with your core, which allows you to fine-control the range of intensity of the effect of your rune in an instant. It allows you to achieve complicated effects with very simple and efficient runes. It also trains your mana attributes nearly the same way an engraved technique would, which a normal rune with a gatherer doesn¡¯t do. For most people, this would be the most important reason. Most modern mages are obsessed with maxing out their mana-related attributes, even if they don¡¯t care much about the rest.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I understand. But that can¡¯t be the only reason.¡±


    ¡°Sure, it¡¯s not. There is also the fact that runes using ambient mana may be functional here where the ambient mana is high, but not in other regions. Where the mana density is low, they compete with the mana intake of your core, which can slow down your advancement. At higher levels, normal runes become more and more useless. Their effects just aren¡¯t strong enough to hurt a high-ranking cultivator. Body runes aren¡¯t so limited and can pack more power, even though they still are a bit weaker than techniques. There is also an effect called anti-resonant interference, which would become a problem once you start compressing your mana to build a solid core.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Bae juggles a handful of pebbles under the attentive gazes of the fishes swimming in the pond. She seems to have forgotten that she was throwing them at me. Good. ¡°At that rank, you start to claim mana as yours further outside of yourself, which some people call aura or domain. That creates a clash with other magic not attuned to you trying to create an effect there. Normal runes fall into that category. That¡¯s also why normal magical equipment stops working how it should for people at that level unless you repress your aura, which you don¡¯t want to do because it leaves you vulnerable, or you use soul-bonded items. That effect is even more pronounced if you aspect your mana core. Because runes usually are designed to work with neutral mana.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. I think I understand why people don¡¯t bother.¡± I finish my second design. It¡¯s easier without the obstacle of flying pebbles. ¡°That aspect thing. Won¡¯t that be a problem with body runes, too?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no,¡± ponders Bae. She tilts her head to the side, letting her ears flop down. ¡°It¡¯s not like you need to aspect all of your core. You can keep a part or even all of it neutral. It¡¯s just that the current meta in the empire is that people try to specialize in an element because aspected techniques are stronger, even though there is less variety than neutral techniques give you. Both options have advantages and disadvantages.¡± A traitorous pebble flies toward my forearm, but I intercept it, barely thinking about it. She remembered. Shit! I see her grinning. ¡°You can also.¡± Another pebble flies. ¡°Modify your feeders to work with aspected mana of your type.¡± Another pebble flies. I am too slow this time, and it grazes over my back. ¡°The only problem is that if you do that, every other component needs to be compatible and adjusted to your mana aspect too, or the rune will just burn out.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± I mutter, my mind whirling with all the implications.


    ¡°And stop!¡± exclaims Bae, dancing closer. ¡°Time is up. Let¡¯s see what you got!¡±


    ¡°Shit!¡± I groan. I was so close to finishing. I know this will mean Bae will come up with more nonsense to motivate me to put in additional effort next time.


    ¡°This¡­, should work. This one, too. The third design lacks balance between the gathering component and the transformers. It should work but will burn out in a day more or less.¡± I suspected that, but there are only so many different components. It feels like a puzzle, trying to match each with another with which it may work, bearing in mind that you may need it for another one with which it works better. ¡°The fourth one should work but is very inefficient. What is this? The last one isn¡¯t complete.¡±


    I shrug and look down. ¡°I know. Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Well, well.¡± Bae grins, showing me her sharp fangs. ¡°We will have to work on your speed and concentration.¡± She takes a few steps back, opening my sketchbook on the first design. ¡°But that can come later. Now that you have the basics of mana manipulation down, I want you to create each design out of mana in the air before you. It¡¯s called runic casting, an amazing exercise to practice mana shaping.¡± She steps a few paces over to let the sunlight illuminate every detail of my sketch. ¡°It¡¯s one of the classical forms of spellcasting, even if it isn¡¯t that popular anymore because people are lazy and don¡¯t like to study all those runes and variations when there are easier alternatives.¡± She rolls her eyes.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I mutter. How much harder can creating intricate shapes be than blocking pebbles with blobs of mana? Ugh! Who am I kidding? It is going to take a while. I can see the suffering coming.


    ¡°Huh? Wait!¡± commands Bae. Her ears twitch and rise, pointing towards the lower entrance of the valley. ¡°We have visitors. Someone just came out of the tunnel.¡±

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    ¡°Don¡¯t fall behind,¡± commands Bae. She descends the winding path with a spring in her step.


    I follow her, huffing and panting, toward the black lacquered carriage approaching in the distance. It rattles closer, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. A solitary rider escorts it, clad in polished steel that reflects the sunlight like a mirror. I exhale through my nose in irritation, trying to catch up. Why the hurry? And who the hell may that be? I thought the tunnel was closed.


    The carriage comes to a halt at the foot of the hill, unable to continue because the path up to Master Wen¡¯s home is too narrow. The door swings open just as we arrive. I try to tame my unruly hair to look presentable, feeling winded from our crazy run. I glare at Bae, who stands at my side, grinning, looking as fresh as ever.


    The door swings open, and a boy steps down with a scowl. He is young, perhaps thirteen, but the sneer on his face is that of someone convinced of his superiority. His gaze sweeps over me as if I don¡¯t exist and then fixes on Bae¡¯s bushy tail. His lips curl.


    ¡°So, this is what they send? A mutt playing gatekeeper?¡± His voice drips with disdain. The guard on horseback looks at me, seeming uneasy, but says nothing.


    Bae¡¯s tail flicks behind her, but she doesn¡¯t seem offended. If something, her eyes twinkle in amusement. She bows deep and greets the newcomers in a silky voice. ¡°Welcome to Cherry Blossom Valley! Who do I have the pleasure to address?¡±


    The boy sneers and spits to the ground as if he had eaten something foul. ¡°Sir Yan, teach the beast to address me properly.¡±


    The steel-clad rider flinches but then squares himself. ¡°Peasant, you have the honor to be in the presence of Lord Turstan, Marquess de Veranea, peerless in his generation.¡±


    Veranea? Isn¡¯t that Yuileen¡¯s family? Could it be her brother or cousin?


    ¡°What an honor!¡± declares Bae with an exaggerated fawn, hiding her snicker behind her clasped hand and winking covertly at me. ¡°May I inquire what brings such distinguished selves to our humble valley and how we may help them?¡± She sounds almost like a purring cat.


    The boy huffs as if answering is beneath him. The knight dismounts from his horse. He looks around, searching for someone to take the reigns off of him, then decides to tie the magnificent stallion to the carriage and clears his throat. ¡°Emm. His lordship has won the honor to become the next apprentice of the Mountain Sage.¡± He comes over, leaving his helmet behind, and shakes his sweat-covered curls. ¡°Could you please announce his arrival and show us to our lodgings?¡±


    ¡°How delightful!¡± exclaims Bae. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that Master Wen took another apprentice.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, vixen,¡± sneers the boy. ¡°I¡¯m destined to become the empire¡¯s next immortal.¡±


    ¡°Incredible! The young master must be truly without peer.¡± Bae is mocking them, even if they are too dumb to realize it. What is she playing at? I feel a bit uneasy. Treating nobles like this seems unwise. ¡°Minae, please carry their luggage up to the guest house. It will be good for your strength and endurance. I need to go to prepare the house to receive their lordships.¡±


    I groan, taking in the mountain of crate after crate while Bae disappears in a blur. The boy starts walking beside me without even offering to help.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t let a filthy beastkin treat you like that,¡± he declares in a condescending tone while his guard walks behind us, making me feel boxed in.


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± I whisper, inclining my head towards him, trying to look as small and unremarkable as possible. If he is related to Yuileen, did she tell him about me? He won¡¯t be able to recognize me just from a vague description. The dye still covers my hair, even if the roots start to poke through in their auburn color. There are a lot of people who look like me.


    His gaze seems to wander over me, making me even more uncomfortable. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, young miss. Once I speak with the Sage, he will surely realize that it is shameful to hire a beastkin and throw her into the streets where she belongs.¡± He swallows and spits to the ground again.


    I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah. Surely he will do that. I continue, carrying the first crate uphill in silence. It doesn¡¯t seem heavy after all my training with Bae, only unwieldy. Some villagers around us pause to look up at us from their rice fields, smiling at me. Are all of them in on Bae¡¯s antics?


    We arrive in the courtyard, and I set the crate down. Bae sits in a chair behind a desk she brought from somewhere, dressed in a fine silken robe and sipping a cup of steaming tea.


    She looks up at us. ¡°Visitors? And who might you be?¡± she asks in a stern voice.


    Lord Turstan stops, rooted to the spot, seeming surprised at the dismissing tone. ¡°Another beastkin?¡± He mumbles. ¡°As I told the other servant, I¡¯m the latest apprentice to the Mountain Sage. You may announce my arrival to your master and show me to my lodgings.¡±


    Wait? Doesn¡¯t he realize that he is talking to the same person?


    Bae looks up, her sharp amber eyes sharp fixed on the boy. The tension seems to thicken in the air, making the bodyguard grip the pommel of his sword. I shift, uneasy, feeling out of place.


    Bae lets the silence linger, taking another sip of her tea before smirking. ¡°No, you are not!¡± she declares.


    Turstan blinks and looks at his guard, who shrugs at him. The boy looks back at Bae. ¡°Excuse me? And who do you think you are? I demand to speak with your master immediately!¡±


    Bae smiles at him, showing her pointy teeth like a predator. ¡°And why, tell me, should I bother him? He has more important things to do than entertain some random noble who thinks too much of himself and even forgets to ask for permission before entering this valley. Hmm?¡±


    The boy turns pink, then red. ¡°You dare?¡± His hands start twitching. ¡°Sir Yan, remove that filthy beast which dares to insult me! Surely the Sage won¡¯t mind.¡±


    The steel-clad guard flinches and shifts, seeming at unease. Then he swallows and looks up at Bae, searching for courage. ¡°Yes, my lord!¡± he declares, unsheathing his sword and lunging forward.


    Bae smiles from ear to ear without moving from her place. For some reason, instead of sprinting towards her, the guard jumps into one of the fish ponds, flailing around with his sword and darting behind something small and red that always seems to stay out of his grasp. Is that a plush fox? Bae snickers in amusement.


    The boy blinks. ¡°How?¡± His eyes seem to dart out of his face, following the huffs and puffs of his guardian, still stomping and spilling water all around himself. ¡°He is a knight at the nascent soul stage. How are you doing that?¡±


    ¡°What? Really?¡± Bae bends over, laughing wildly, holding her belly in her arms. ¡°Oh, my! To think there would exist a nascent soul out there unable to use his soul-sense to realize he is following an illusion.¡± She straightens her back, still grinning. ¡°How far the standards have fallen.¡±


    The boy glares at her. ¡°But he is a great fencer!¡± He snarls. Then he lowers his voice, seemingly realizing the balance of power isn¡¯t in his favor. ¡°Could you please release him, great lady?¡± He swallows hard and looks at Bae. ¡°Emm, I may have overreacted. I didn¡¯t know your ladyship was such a great mage. Could you please release my servant?¡±


    ¡°But sure, boy,¡± purrs Bae. ¡°How could I not if you ask that nicely.¡±


    The Guard darts over, stumbles, and falls over himself in a heap of limbs and clinging metal. He looks up, seeming disoriented. Then he flinches when he realizes that Bae is still sitting in the same place, sipping tea without a hurry.


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    ¡°Stand down, sir Yan,¡± commands the boy, before addressing Bae again. ¡°I must ask that you please announce to the Mountain Sage that his new apprentice has arrived.¡±


    ¡°Sure, she has,¡± snickers Bae. ¡°She got here nearly a month ago.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± asks the boy, looking at his guard, who shrugs his shoulders. ¡°Who is the imposter?¡± he snarls. ¡°That can¡¯t be right. I have the beacon to prove that I¡¯m the rightful one!¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± asks Bae. ¡°Well, what are you waiting for? Bring it over?¡±


    A compass similar to my own appears in the boy¡¯s hands. ¡°See?¡±


    ¡°Sure, I do,¡± says Bae. ¡°As you can see, it is not active. The needle is missing.¡±


    The boy grasps it back to stare at it. ¡°What? No! What needle? It has always been like that!¡±


    ¡°And how long ago did you get it? asks Bae, in a tone you would use to speak with a little kid.


    ¡°What? Three weeks.¡±


    ¡°Well, then it was already deactivated when you got it. I told you that the Mountain Sage¡¯s next apprentice arrived here nearly a month ago. All the beacons are linked. When the first one arrives, the competition ends, and the rest of them are deactivated. You lost the race.¡±


    ¡°What? But how? I won the tournament! Yan can testify that I did, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± mumbles the steel-clad knight, dripping water all over the courtyard.


    ¡°My uncle, the Emperor, promised me! Who would dare to defy him? I demand to see the Mountain Sage!¡± He points at Bae with a finger, flailing wildly with his other arm. ¡°You can¡¯t deny me my right!¡±


    The mountain grins. Snow-covered peaks melt and bleed into crimson rivers. They flow toward us, surrounding the courtyard with bubbling lava. Squirming tentacles reach out, smacking the ground beside us with a thunderous roar. The sun is a gigantic eye that watches us, peeking at our secrets. Bae¡¯s figure shifts into a nine-tailed fox that winks at me. Gravity goes haywire, pressing us down. Then everything disappears, and we are back in the valley. Birds chirp and flutter around us. Bae is still sitting in her chair, sipping her tea.


    ¡°The scarlet deceiver,¡± whispers the knight. He steps between his Lord and Bae, one hand clenched over the pommel of his sword.


    ¡°Oh? Someone has heard about me,¡± snickers the fox-kin.


    ¡°A Kitsune?¡± Mutters the boy. ¡°Whatever.¡±


    What is wrong with him? How sheltered must his life have been not to be able to recognize the threat and danger? Maybe he never had to face the consequences of his words or actions.


    ¡°What tournament and other nonsense are you even talking about?¡± asks Bae. ¡°It is supposed to be a race through civilization and wilderness, a competition between all the promising members of the younger generation to determine the worthiest candidate.¡±


    Lord Turstan looks at her, mouth wide open. There is no trace left of his disdain. ¡°What? Are you saying there could be someone worthier than me?¡± He puffs his chest out like a peacock. ¡°Who could be a worthier candidate than me? I am barely fourteen and only days away from advancing to gold rank. Everybody recognizes my genius.¡±


    Bae rolls her eyes and sighs. ¡°She is standing right beside you.¡±


    The boy and his guard whirl around to look at me. ¡°Who?¡± asks Lord Turstan. ¡°You surely can¡¯t mean the servant girl?¡±


    Bae starts laughing again. ¡°Sure, the servant girl beat you to it.¡±


    Why did she have to put me on the spot? I felt fine being unnoticed. I already have enough problems.


    ¡°Who is the traitor who let you past the checkpoint?¡± asks Turstan, projecting droplets of spit in my direction. He isn¡¯t even that wrong in his suspicion. I know that at least one of the tunnel guards is a traitor. Kevin, the Crow¡¯s nephew, said something about bribing the guards. ¡°Nevermind. You must renounce your claim, girl. It is the will of the Emperor that I become the next Immortal.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± interjects Bae. ¡°Even if she were to renounce, you wouldn¡¯t become the next apprentice. You lost. Shu!¡± She waves at him as if scaring a pesky fly away and leans back, balancing her chair on one of its legs. ¡°And anyway, I don¡¯t think you have what it takes to become an immortal. Her foundation is way better than yours.¡±


    ¡°What? No! You are wrong! Everybody knows that I am the best. I¡¯ll show you.¡± He looks at me again. ¡°Girl, what is your cultivation rank?¡±


    ¡°Peak Copper,¡± I answer with a shrug.


    ¡°What? Not even Silver?¡± He turns towards Bae again. ¡°You see, she is older than me, and her cultivation rank is way lower than mine.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Well, you must recognize that I am a better candidate.¡±


    ¡°Nah, she is still better than you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± His eyes dart toward Bae¡¯s flicking tail. ¡°Is it because of what I called you before? I¡¯m sorry, but you can¡¯t turn me away because you feel some misguided offense or nonsense.¡± What is he talking about? Does he hear himself? Again, what is wrong with him? ¡°Your master surely won¡¯t like it if you turn a more promising candidate away because of personal grievances.¡±


    Bae bursts out laughing again, falling backward until she clatters against the ground. ¡°Oh my.¡± She wipes her tears away with the back of one hand. ¡°Who do you think I am, silly boy, some lowly servant whose opinion doesn¡¯t matter?¡± I can see the beaten knight wincing. ¡°I know your foundation is way worse than hers, and you lack the attitude needed to achieve greatness. Even if Master Wen had to choose, he would choose her.¡±


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right!¡± snarls the lord. I demand a duel to show that I¡¯m superior!¡±


    Bae looks at me, her eyes glimmering. ¡°Sure, why not?¡± Now it¡¯s me that winces. ¡°Don¡¯t make that face, silly,¡± she snickers. ¡°It will let you consolidate what you have learned this past month. Take a sword from the rack.¡±


    I stand across from the young lord, sweat dripping down my neck. When did I sign up for this? Bae is crazy.


    ¡°You will fight until submission or incapacitation.¡± Bae¡¯s voice seems to come from very far away, from everywhere, like the memory of the crimson sky and the falling mountains.


    Turstan unsheathes a richly decorated, slightly curved sword that seems to shimmer under the sunlight. My basic steel training sword seems lackluster in comparison.


    ¡°You should give up, girl. I need this apprenticeship. I will tell my uncle to reward you,¡± he promises, sounding condescending.


    What is he even talking about? Is he deaf or something? Bae told him that the result didn¡¯t matter. Is he in denial? Not that I want to let him beat me.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for a duel,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Well, as you wish, you should know that I follow the path of the spellblade. There is no way you can beat me with a sword,¡± he blusters.


    ¡°Stop blabbering and start already!¡± yells Bae, sitting next to the knight at the courtyard''s edge. ¡°I¡¯m bored.¡±


    Turstan lunges forward with a probing strike, trying to take my measure. I deflect a bit clumsily, caught by surprise. He sneers at me. ¡°Pathetic.¡± He comes at me with a similar combination to one Bae used on me, a flurry of strikes followed by a lunge that I all deflect or evade stepping back. His technique is way more polished than mine, although he is slower than Bae. He is even slower than me, even though it seems strange knowing his cultivation rank is superior. I have the advantage in reach, too. Being slightly taller.


    That doesn¡¯t mean that I can break through his defense, though. He seems to anticipate every one of my movements, even feeling comfortable enough to get cocky and add unnecessary flourishes to his strikes. Like the parading peacock that he is. I try to keep it simple, like Bae taught me. Strike to create an opening and lunge, he parries and counterattacks, forcing me to step back and block, not to get impaled. Again, maybe I can tire him out. I don¡¯t know what else to do.


    My next lunge goes a bit wide. He guides my blade past his body, throwing me off balance before sidestepping with ease. Suddenly, he darts towards me way faster than before. His sword flicks out. I barely manage to adjust my stance and block, but the flat of his blade rasps against my knuckles, making them bleed. I gasp, nearly dropping my sword, but cling to it as if my life depended on it. Maybe it does. Who knows what this blustering peacock has in mind?


    ¡°You are faster than I expected,¡± he acknowledges. His calm voice almost sounds bored. ¡°But you should know when someone outclasses you. Once I start using techniques, you won¡¯t be able to hold me back any longer. It¡¯s nothing personal, but I need that apprenticeship.¡±


    He is still delusional, I see. But that makes him more dangerous. I grit my teeth and swing again in an overhead strike. His sword glows brightly. He blocks. My sword gets sheared in half as if made of butter. Half of the blade flies off into the distance. I look at the hilt and the foot-long stump of the blade that is left, dumbfounded. Something flies toward me, and I dodge out of reflex before stepping back. His blade seems to have grown. It is projecting a flickering image around. Shit! With that, his reach is enormous. He doesn¡¯t even need to step close any longer. I don¡¯t want to know what will happen if I touch that. He flicks his wrists and hurls a shimmering energy disc in my direction, seeming content with making me run around. I evade again, feeling hot air rushing past me. How is this fair?


    ¡°Can you see now that I outmatch you?¡±


    Is he playing with me? Why? And why isn¡¯t Bae calling it off? I thought this was a swordfight. I don¡¯t have any of those techniques. How does she expect me to beat him? More and more energy discs fly in my direction, barely leaving me space to evade. I do have runes, though. If I time it right, I may have a chance. But I need to make it count, or I¡¯ll lose. I greet my teeth again, searching for an opening.


    ¡°You should give up already. I have enough mana to continue for ages,¡± yells the boy, throwing a fit like a toddler. He finally stops for a moment. I start running towards him. He hurls another energy disc toward my shins. I jump up and towards him. ¡°Fool!¡± he sneers.


    His blade comes at me in a horizontal strike, extended further than it should. I have nothing to block it with, seemingly no way to evade. I blind him for a moment with a light beam. My first air step takes me over his strike. My second air step bleeds my momentum when I¡¯m right above him. His head whirls around. He seems to have lost track of me in his moment of blindness. Then gravity takes hold of me, and I crash the pommel of my sword into his temple with all my weight. He sags to the ground like a puppet without its strings.


    ¡°Lord Turstan!¡± yells the knight. He blurs towards me, sword in hand, until Bae appears between us and slaps him away.


    ¡°You will behave.¡±

 25-Growth

    Bae sits perched on the railing that overlooks the training yard. She flicks her bushy tail, watching me with a sharp, knowing grin. The evening sun bathes her copper red hair while she leans forward, arms crossed and ears twitching. I stand below her, still panting from my hectic fight.


    ¡°Not bad, little sister,¡± she muses, sounding lazy and amused. ¡°I like what you did with your barriers. The stepping on them mid-air part.¡± Her fingers reenact the last part of our fight, accompanied by illusionary copies of Lord Turstan and myself. In this version, stars dance around his head once he falls to the ground, and his tongue lolls out. ¡°That reminds me that we should incorporate your runes into our training sessions. Hum. I may have been too lax with you.¡±


    ¡°Shit!¡± I groan, giving her a sidelong glance. ¡°Is that necessary?¡±


    ¡°It is. You need to learn to squeeze the best out of every one of your tools.¡± She leans closer. Her soothing whispers drift between us. ¡°As you have seen, you won¡¯t always be able to brute-force your way to victory. Your fighting style is similar to mine. You rely on trickery, deception, and surprise like a fox.¡± Her smile brightens, growing wider than her face, before snapping back. ¡°You did well this time, lulled that idiot into feeling like he had already won, and bang!¡± The smack of her hand against the hollow bamboo resounds like a drum through the evening sky. The excited chirp of the birds disappears for an instant. Then their concert resumes. Bae chuckles, dropping gracefully from the railing. Her feet land in the dust without a sound, without stirring it up, almost as if she is an ethereal being. Maybe this isn¡¯t her, but an illusion, while the real Bae is watching us from somewhere else. ¡°It was so beautiful! I almost felt bad for the poor idiot!¡±


    I straighten, rolling my shoulders, basking in the praise.


    The young noble she was talking about is starting to stir under the vigilant silhouette of his guard. He winces, touching the massive lump on his forehead, and traces the swollen skin with his fingers. He sits up, his boots scuffing the dirt floor of the courtyard. Meanwhile, Sir Yan stands watch, arms crossed, his gaze darting toward Bae whenever he thinks she can¡¯t see him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± grumbles Lord Turstan, rubbing his temple. ¡°I had already won. I just needed to finish that pretender off.¡± He looks over to where Bae is patting my head. Then his eyes widen, and he points a finger at me. ¡°She lied! She used techniques. She can¡¯t be a mere Copper-rank!¡±


    Bae bursts out laughing, bending backward until the tip of her tail peeks over her shoulder.


    ¡°Um.¡± Sir Yan seems to be searching for the right words, rubbing his temple for inspiration. ¡°The girl do is a Copper, milord.¡±


    Lord Turstan whirls around. ¡°What? But how? She used techniques she hid in her treacherous ways,¡± he snarls.


    ¡°Em, no. What that girl used aren¡¯t techniques, but body runes,¡± clarifies the guard.


    ¡°Body what?¡± He blinks, looking at me, then at his guardian again. ¡°What is that? That can¡¯t be allowed!¡± He stands up and starts traipsing over, swaying like a drunk. ¡°You cheated. I demand a rematch!¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about, silly boy?¡± interjects Bae. ¡°Since when are fights fair or some other nonsense?¡±


    ¡°But.¡±


    ¡°You should have stated specific rules or limitations before issuing a challenge. Stop whining like a cub and get out of our valley already. You are disturbing my training sessions with the Mountain Sage''s only real and true apprentice.¡±


    ¡°What? But I¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you deaf, boy? Off with you already before I throw you out myself!¡± Bae¡¯s voice sounds like the hiss of an angry predator.


    The boy flinches back. He walks toward his guard in a daze before shaking his head and looking back at us with a venomous glare. ¡°This isn¡¯t over. The emperor will hear about this!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, whatever.¡± Bae dismisses him with a wave of her hand.


    ¡°Wait, who will carry our luggage back to the carriage?¡± asks the boy.


    ¡°Are you asking me?¡± scoffs Bae. ¡°Figure it out yourself.¡±


    I watch the fuming lord stumbling down the winding path. The guard follows him a few steps behind, balancing crates over his shoulder that slip and slide over his metallic arm protections.


    ¡°Was it wise to antagonize them like that?¡± I ask. At this rate, I will have so many enemies that I¡¯ll never be able to leave this valley again.


    ¡°What? Yeah,¡± responds Bae. ¡°He will thank me one day for piercing his bubble as long as he uses the disappointment to fuel his growth. Maybe he is a complete moron and will never change, but who cares? A bit of rivalry will be good for you, too. To keep you on your toes when you go back outside.¡± She starts walking toward the building with a spring in her step.


    ¡°Okay?¡± I mutter, not very convinced.


    ¡°Come!¡± commands Bae. ¡°Let¡¯s find out how much your attributes have grown.¡±


    <table width="599">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Name: Minae


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Age: 17


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Class: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Cultivation stage: Body Tempering (86%)


    Spirit root: Shadow/Steam


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Spirit pact: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Manapool: (107©¦139)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Attributes


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="196">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="202">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="200">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Strenght


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    101


    (+4)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    106


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Intelligence


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    90


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    103


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Sensitivity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    108


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    113


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Agility


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    128


    (+4)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    132


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Creativity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    110


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    115


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Channeling


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    108


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    112


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Dexterity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    124


    (+5)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    129


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Insight


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    115


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    121


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Shaping


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    46


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    68


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Endurance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    103


    (+4)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    108


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Resilience


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    110


    (+5)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    119


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Tolerance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    103


    (+1)


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    103


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Vitality


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    94


    (+3)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    99


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Perception


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    111


    (+4)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    115


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Resistance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    72


    (+3)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    87


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The result of my training reduced to a bunch of numbers. For some reason, it feels reassuring that there is a measurable effect. I can follow my growth. I¡¯m crawling and clawing my way ever closer to the hard limits imposed by my potential. I can even tear that wall down by ranking up.


    ¡°Nice!¡± exclaims Bae, looking up from the jade tablet. ¡°Your physical attributes are nearly maxed out.¡± She rubs her chin in contemplation. ¡°We probably won¡¯t be able to get them much higher without alchemy. Your Mental and Mana attributes still have some margin for growth, though. Hopefully, the new exercises we started will help with that.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t alchemy bad for your foundation or something like that?¡± I ask, confused.


    ¡°It is if you abuse it,¡± acknowledges Bae. ¡°But, since you have never used it, you won¡¯t have a problem. You probably have the willpower to spare, and.¡± She looks at me as if about to let me in on a secret. ¡°Let¡¯s say that the pills Master Wen is preparing are special. They are a bit more dangerous to use but increase your willpower almost as if you had gained the extra attributes through training.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I mutter. That doesn¡¯t sound ominous at all. ¡°How much longer will it take, anyway? Didn¡¯t he say we had a month for something we needed to do?¡±


    ¡°How should I know? He probably got distracted by another of his projects.¡± Bae stores the tablet back in one of the drawers. ¡°Better for you, right? You have more time to train with me!¡± She grins at me, wiggling her ears. ¡°Do you have another question to get out of the way, or can we resume our training?¡±


    ¡°Hum. I do. What did that boy mean when he said he followed the path of the spellblade?¡±


    Bae sighs before sitting down. ¡°I should probably explain this so that you can start thinking about what you want and in case we don¡¯t have much time later.¡± She looks up at me, inviting me to sit next to her with her hand. ¡°What do you know about the meridian carving¡­, the silver rank?¡±


    ¡°Nothing?¡± I admit feeling embarrassed.


    ¡°Good! At least you won¡¯t have to unlearn false information. Who knows what nonsense they teach these days?¡± She leans back in her chair. ¡°How do I explain this?" She starts casting another illusionary human between us, illustrating her explanation. "During the Body Tempering stage, you flood your body with mana." The figure seems to draw the air in. It shimmers and flickers all through his transparent body. "Once you finish, you are like a soaked field, prepared to be sown upon.¡± Her fingers drum on the desk in a rhythmic pattern, dismissing the illusion. ¡°It also changes your cells on a fundamental level. They start burning mana as nourishment, apart from what you get from food. The higher your rank, the more mana they consume. That¡¯s why you rarely see high-ranking mages in low mana-density regions. It can¡¯t sustain them, and they start consuming the mana stored in their core. At least until they reach nascent soul rank and open their inner world.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± It probably explains why random groups of empire mages haven¡¯t taken over the Solarian kingdom ages ago. A handful of them would be enough to do it. Back in the kingdom, a Gold-ranked mage is an elite. Here, it can be a fourteen-year-old boy.


    ¡°Well, as I said, when you finish tempering your body, you become like a flooded field. Mana flows through you unimpeded. You can draw it into you to fuel your core and expulse it, creating various effects. But your control over where and how it flows through is still bad. It is as if every time you need to guide your mana somewhere, to fuel a specific technique, or water a specific plant, you do it by flooding the whole field. That is wasteful and inefficient. If you increase the flow too much, it can even erode your body. That¡¯s why you carve meridians. Do you follow me so far?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. I don''t dare to interrupt with further questions right now for fear of missing something.


    ¡°Your meridians form a network of hardened channels, carved into that field, through which mana flows. You can use that network to distribute your mana where needed, avoiding unnecessary spillage.¡±


    She illustrates her point, making the illusion reappear.


    ¡°Interesting.¡±


    ¡°It is important to carve your meridians with utmost care. Once finished, they will stay with you for your whole life. It¡¯s hard and expensive to modify them afterward. Techniques, by contrast, are temporary patterns engraved over your meridians. Think of them as the crops. They are useful and can help you for some time but aren¡¯t important for your advancement. That¡¯s why it doesn¡¯t matter which techniques you choose or if you botcher the process of engraving them, at least at lower rankings. They get erased each time you rank up, forcing you to engrave new techniques anyways.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but what does this have to do with being a spellblade?¡± I ask.


    ¡°That¡¯s where it gets interesting!¡± answers Bae with a grin. Her fingers stop drumming, leaving us in sudden silence. ¡°You see, there isn¡¯t only one correct way to carve your meridians. There are a lot of them. That¡¯s why people say that at the meridian carving stage, you specialize or choose a path. Each of these different paths or ways of arranging your meridians are roughly equivalent but come with particular benefits and drawbacks, apart from different techniques with which they will be compatible or incompatible.¡± Bae stands up and starts walking toward the door. ¡°Wait a minute. We should use this opportunity to let you start thinking about your options.¡±


    I watch her disappear in a blur and sit back. The room feels different now that her explanation has stopped. The air, once filled with the rhythm of the foxkin¡¯s voice, has settled into an almost oppressive stillness. I shift in my seat, the wooden chair creaking beneath me, sounding too loud in the hush of the chamber. I try to entertain myself, watching the flickering flames in the hearth and trying to remember everything that Bae told me. Dust motes drift in the slanted sunlight from the windows. I drum my fingers on the table¡¯s worn surface, feeling the warmth Bae¡¯s hands left behind. How long has it been since she left? Time stretches in the silence, and with every heartbeat, the weight of my thoughts grows heavier.


    ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± exclaims someone behind me.


    ¡°Eek!¡± I screech, getting up with a start, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.


    Bae cocks her head, half-hidden behind a mountain of dusty tomes and tablets. ¡°Got them all,¡± she huffs, setting them down on the table before sitting again. Her amber eyes drift over me, then toward the stack of books. ¡°As you can see, there are a lot of paths you can choose from,¡± she explains, pointing at them. ¡°Some people use this as an opportunity to get the maximum out of the attributes they were born with. You see, by choosing a path that further improves you in what you are already strong, you can play to your strengths and make up for an overall lackluster set of potential attributes. The problem is that it can be hard to find techniques compatible with the more esoteric paths, forcing you to find a balance between what will give you the most utility, what will improve your attributes more, and what you like and feel comfortable with.¡±


    ¡°So, what should I choose?¡± I ask, feeling a bit overwhelmed.


    ¡°How should I know?¡± She looks at me, grinning, taken in my frightened self. ¡°I may have some ideas of what would suit you, but it is your choice.¡±


    I doubt everybody who reaches this stage has the opportunity to choose from thirty or forty paths. How many manuals are there even?


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you learn the basics before your brain melts.¡± Bae comes to my rescue with a snicker. ¡°Check these out. First, you have the two most common paths people use in the empire. The Knight and the Mage.¡±


    The mage? Aren¡¯t all of them mages? It must be a quirk in the language. ¡°What¡¯s the difference between them?¡± I ask, not very enthusiastic.


    ¡°Well, apart from focusing on melee and mana-intensive ranged techniques, respectively, there is a difference between the potential attributes they increase. The Knight focuses on the physical side. It gives at least standard increases to all physical attributes, especially great increases to your strength, endurance, and vitality. But also mental resilience and mana resistance. While on the rest of mana and mental attributes, the increases are subpar.¡±


    ¡°Hum. What is the difference between mana tolerance and resistance anyway?¡± I ask. It doesn¡¯t sound that bad, knowing that my attributes are a bit higher on the physical side. But I always wanted to be a mage!


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I explain that already?¡±


    Did she? I don¡¯t know. ¡°No,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s easy. Mana tolerance refers to the capacity of your body to sustain ambient mana and channel your mana without getting damaged. Meanwhile, mana resistance refers to your capacity to resist hostile spell effects and to maintain your spell constructs under opposition from another mage or the environment.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you should waste your time with the mage path,¡± mutters Bae. ¡°It focuses on the mana shaping attribute, which is by far your worst one.¡±


    I sigh, already having expected something like that. ¡°What else is there?¡±


    ¡°Well, there is the Jack of all trades, also called the monk on the eastern continent, who doesn¡¯t specialize in anything.¡±


    ¡°Meh.¡± It doesn¡¯t sound convincing. A monk? Aren¡¯t those crazy people who believe some great spirit will save them? No, thank you.


    ¡°Under the more specialized but still widespread paths, there is the Archer, a ranged path focused on strength, dexterity, and perception, who can infuse his arrows with mana, but I think you should focus on something that improves your already great speed and agility. Check out this one.¡±


    She hands me a jade tablet, similar to the attribute reading artifact but much smaller. When I touch it, the surface flickers, revealing something written in a faintly glowing script.


    <table width="500">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="500">


    Path of the Rogue


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Strength: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Intelligence: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Sensitivity: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Agility: ++


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Creativity: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Channeling: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Dexterity: ++


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Insight: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Shaping: ¨C ¨C


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Endurance: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Resilience: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Tolerance: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Vitality: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Perception: +


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Resistance: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    That does seem like a decent specialization, even though the mental and mana-related aspects make me grimace. Maybe I was always destined to become something like a thief or assassin. ¡°It seems good,¡± I admit, sounding unconvinced.


    Bae laughs at me. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. There are common hybrid paths also. They are a mix of two of the common basic paths I have shown you, so they benefit from being able to choose from some of the techniques from both of the basic paths they proceed from.¡±


    ¡°That sounds great. Which are those?¡±


    ¡°Well, you have the Spellblade, that boy followed, a hybrid between Knight and Mage. The Rogue Mage, which I follow myself. The Elemental Archer, a hybrid between Archer and Mage.¡± She browses through the stack of tablets and tomes. ¡°I don¡¯t think any of those would suit you. They all rely on a high shaping attribute.¡±


    I sigh again. ¡°What is the difference between a normal Archer and an Elemental Archer? Didn¡¯t you say that the normal Archer can infuse his arrows already?¡±


    ¡°True. The Elemental Archer is a mixed-ranged fighter who can use arrows and elemental attacks like fireballs. Most of the time, it''s like a worse version of the Mage and the Archer. But there is one specific spirit root with which it shines.


    ¡°Hum. Which one?¡±


    ¡°One of the most destructive elements is lightning, but it is also one of the hardest to guide and control. That¡¯s why pure lightning mages can be more of a hindrance than a help on the battlefield. Their attacks tend to strike down anywhere except at their target. They always cause casualties in their ranks through friendly fire. Lightning Elemental Archers solve that problem by shooting charged arrows that don¡¯t do much by themselves but attract every lightning bolt in their vicinity, even naturally occurring ones. Then, they follow up by casting lightning toward the general direction of their targets, and it will always strike them. The most famous ones are the elven archers of the Tempest Forest. Nobody likes to enter their woods.¡±


    They do sound fearsome, but it doesn¡¯t suit me either. I sigh again. ¡°What else is out there?¡±


    ¡°Well, there is the Duelist. A hybrid between Knight and Rogue.¡±


    ¡°Show me, please.¡±


    Bae passes me a worn-out tome this time.


    <table width="500">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="500">


    Path of the Duelist


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Strength: +


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Intelligence: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Sensitivity: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Agility: +


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Creativity: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Channeling: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Dexterity: +


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Insight: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Shaping: ¨C ¨C


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Endurance: +


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Resilience: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Tolerance: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Vitality: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Perception: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Resistance: +


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    It''s better than I expected, but I still prefer the Rogue over this. ¡°Isn¡¯t there something magic or rune-related that could suit me?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Let me check.¡± Bae browses through the remaining options like a whirlwind. ¡°Useless. Too niche. Nah. Huh? This one may work for you.¡±


    She passes me another smooth tablet.


    <table width="500">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="500">


    Path of the Rogue Enchanter


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Strength: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Intelligence: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Sensitivity: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Agility: +


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Creativity: +


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Channeling: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Dexterity: ++


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Insight: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Shaping: ¨C ¨C


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Endurance: ¨C


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Resilience: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Tolerance: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="132">


    Vitality: Standard


    </td>


    <td width="170">


    Perception: +


    </td>


    <td width="198">


    Resistance: Standard


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    I click on a symbol on the side. A drawing of the human body appears, in which the different meridians you need to create for this path are highlighted in a network of glowing lines branching out from the core like the roots of an ancient tree. You can amplify each of them for greater detail.


    ¡°This is a hybrid path between the classical Rogue and one of the more crafting-oriented paths, which doesn¡¯t necessarily mean it will be weak on the battlefield.¡±


    ¡°What kind of techniques would this path have?¡± I like it. I like it. Is it better than the pure rogue, though?


    ¡°Well, most of the rogue techniques will be compatible. You would probably also be able to learn some of the precision-enhancing techniques crafters use to help them create sophisticated items.¡±


    ¡°Can I sleep over it?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Take the three or four you like most and keep them. I have copies.¡±

 26-Anguish

    I gasp awake with a violent shudder. Liquid ice crashes over me like a tidal wave. I bolt upright, my breath hitching as the freezing shock spreads through my clothes, over my limps, and into the sheets and mattress beneath me. Where am I? I try to blink the water out of my lashes; my sluggish brain is clawing its way to reality. My gaze snaps upward, furious, dripping, and wild, onto the grinning foxkin above me, empty bucket in hand.


    ¡°You!¡± I growl, my voice still rough from sleep and outrage. ¡°Was that necessary?¡±


    A grin, smug and unrepentant, curls across Bae¡¯s lips. ¡°Rise and shine, honey!¡±


    ¡°Ugh!¡± I try to disentangle myself from the soaked sheets. Why doesn¡¯t it smell of wet feathers? What is the mattress filled with? Shredded bamboo-fibers? Whatever. ¡°You need to work on your awareness,¡± chastises Bae. ¡°If you sleep like that out in the wilderness, you won¡¯t last long.¡±


    I glare at her. I know! But I am not in the wilderness, am I? I¡¯m indoors in one of the coziest rooms I¡¯ve ever slept in, in the same house as two of the strongest beings I know. It is supposed to be safe! ¡°Why the hurry?¡±


    ¡°Master Wen is back!¡± Her eyes seem to gleam in excitement. "Come, he is waiting for us outside. Your pills are ready.¡± Bae waves one of her hands, and all the water streams back into the bucket. Huh? Convenient. Freaking mages!


    The rich and earthy scent of tea hits me first. It feels welcoming and familiar. Hints of cinnamon and citrus curl through the air. The quiet clink of a spoon hitting porcelain pierces the silence. I step outside, and there I find Wen. My absent master sits at a table under a flowering jasmine vine twisting through a bamboo frame. It feels almost as if he never left. Kylo, the snow leopard, is curled up in the shadow under the table, dozing the morning away. One of his eyes opens, looking at me. He huffs in recognition and goes to sleep again. At least we seem to have come to an understanding. Since I started feeding him leftovers when nobody is looking, he no longer growls at me whenever he sees me.


    Master Wen drums his fingers against his mug, his gaze lifting to meet us. ¡°There you are, good, good.¡± He takes a sip. ¡°We have a lot to do today.¡±


    Bae sits down beside him, snacking on ripe, deep purple figs. I reach out to take one myself, but Bae stops me. ¡°No breakfast for you today, sorry. You won¡¯t be able to keep it in.¡±


    Ugh! What now? The day keeps getting better and better. I watch her break open the soft, velvety texture of the figs, exposing the lush flesh and crunchy seeds. They must be melting on her tongue, sweet and yummy. No! Don¡¯t look, or it will be worse.


    The lazy cat shifts and leans against my shins. I can distract myself by petting warm fur while those two torturers finish their breakfast. His pelt is so smooth and soft. He yawns, showing his finger-long fangs, then looks at me before closing his snout again. His purrs vibrate loudly under the table.


    Finally, they finish their meal. The table and remaining food disappear with a snap of Wen¡¯s fingers. ¡°Are you ready, Minae?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I grunt, feeling wary. Let¡¯s get this over with.


    ¡°Good,¡± he says, rubbing his chin. An unremarkable grey marble appears in his hand. ¡°We will start with this one. It¡¯s called a crucible of the body pill.¡± He looks me up and down before handing it over. ¡°Whatever you feel after taking it, you need to power through.¡±


    ¡°They also call it the Eternal Anguish pill,¡± remarks Bae, a pair of training swords tugged under her arms.


    ¡°The what?¡± I gasp, shifting uneasily on the spot. ¡°Is this necessary?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t scare the girl, Bae,¡± scolds Master Wen. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it isn¡¯t as bad as it sounds. Those who call it that are weaklings without willpower.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I hold the pill, fingers trembling. It almost feels like a ball of clay, slightly wet. I take a deep breath. I swallow it down before I can reconsider and lose my courage.


    For an instant, nothing happens. I can feel the clay melting down into a slimy pudding. Is that it? What is all the fuss about? Then it starts burning. It¡¯s hot, hot! My insides are melting, my stomach cramps in rebellion. I shudder. My body tries to retch. ¡°Be strong, hold it in!¡± commands someone, somewhere, compelling me to obey, even if I¡¯m breaking apart. The retching stops, but the pain remains. It is spreading fast and relentless. It presses into every inch of my body, seeping into muscle, bone, and marrow. It goes in waves, following the galloping beats of my heart. It spreads, sharp and searing, then dull and grinding, never relenting nor leaving an instant of peace.


    My limbs are heavy. My chest is too tight to breathe. I wheeze, trying to draw in fresh air. It burns. My lungs burn. My skin burns, and jolts of fire race through my nerves. There is no escape, no stillness, only raw, merciless ache.


    Tremors race through my body, tearing and melting my muscles until I lose control over them. My knees buckle, my breath hitches. I¡¯m vaguely aware that I¡¯m not standing anymore. I¡¯m crumbled between the dust, languishing under the tyrannical pressure of gravity that glues me to the ground. Pain roars through me like wildfire, searing its way into my spine and my skull until I only see red. The world is fading away.


    ¡°You need to circulate!¡± Voices come from somewhere distant, maybe outer space or the strange world between portals. ¡°Minae! Circulate!¡± Why do they sound so urgent and loud? Let me sleep. ¡°Circulate!¡± The command leaves no room to disobey. Okay, whatever.


    Mana flows through me like a flood. It makes the pain slightly more tolerable, returning my awareness of the surroundings. Bae is leaning over me, hiding the sun behind her back. ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°Just like that. Now, stand up and take a sword. Let¡¯s resume our training. We need to engage in physical activity to get the maximum benefit out of the pill.¡±


    Training? What is she talking about? I can¡¯t even stand. I can barely move. I want to laugh, but my muscles lock, having other plans. So, I wheeze again. My nerves scream as if I am trapped inside myself, helpless and clumsy like a toddler. The world blurs at the edges, reminding me to continue circulating my mana. It would be dangerous to lose consciousness now. Somehow, I can feel it. My vision swims between hazy light and unending darkness. Is this supposed to happen? Somehow, I think it is. The name gives you a hint. Crucible. Eternal anguish indeed. I can understand why this pill isn¡¯t bad for your willpower. No pampered noble would take this.


    I circulate and circulate until my breath comes easier. My body still hurts, but I¡¯m regaining a sliver of control over my muscles. My fingers twitch, and my knees bend, even though they still feel bland and wobbly.


    ¡°Come on, stand up,¡± commands Bae again.


    I roll and try to lift myself to my feet. Circulating, without stopping to circulate. It has almost become instinctive, a light in the darkness. An oasis of calmness, flooding the desert of my flesh. I start crawling, having forgotten how to walk. My muscles aren¡¯t strong enough to support me, and my coordination barely exists. That won¡¯t do. I sit and slowly stand up, using the training sword Bae left beside me as a crutch.


    The moment I stand, the world lurches sideways. Anguish floods my head. The courtyard dims and swims at the edges of my vision as if someone had turned up the brightness of the sky. My knees wobble again, feeling like wet noodles beneath me. I reach out, blinded by the dancing lights, resting my weight on the training sword to steady myself.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Good!¡± acknowledges Bae. Her figure seems to dance and shift. There are two of her. ¡°Now, prepare yourself.¡± The two Baes merge into one fuzzy image and rush closer.


    She wants me to defend myself? Is she crazy? I need the sword to stand!


    A sharp pulse echoes through my skull. My heartbeat is too loud, too fast. It drums through the waves of pain like distant thunder in a storm. I close my eyes, inhaling slow, measured breaths, willing the floor to stop tilting beneath me, the gravity to calm itself. Then I lift my sword, trying to get it between us. I try to lock my legs, to remain planted firm, like a tree about to weather the storm, even as the world threatens to slip away again. My sword flies into the dirt with an ear-splitting clang, and I sag to the ground.


    ¡°Again,¡± commands Bae. She returns the blade to my hands like a merciless avenger. ¡°We need to beat the weakness out of you.¡±


    I sigh, pulling myself together to stand up again. In a moment of clarity, I can see Master Wen and the freaking leopard watching us with interest from a distance. Then the anguish floods back, leaving no place for distractions. There is only my pain and Bae¡¯s lightning-fast strikes. Each time our blades meet, I can feel the impact vibrating through my bones, hammering the mana and the pain deeper, threatening to tear me apart if I stop circulating. I feel like I¡¯m hot iron, being reforged between the hammer of Bae¡¯s sword and the anvil of the ground. Tense and rigid and then bland and wobbly again. A cycle that repeats until I lose count.


    An eternity later, the weakness starts retreating, leaving only a lingering dull ache and battered flesh that slowly recovers sensibility. The courtyard around us reappears. I can hear the chirping birds again, the purrs of the leopard, sunning itself like the lazy cat he is.


    ¡°Well, that went great!¡± comments Bae, sheathing her sword. I almost lose my balance at the sudden lack of another strike. She snickers. ¡°You can stop, silly. We won¡¯t get any more benefits out of it.¡±


    ¡°How do you feel,¡± asks Master Wen.


    ¡°I feel¡­,¡± I was about to say that I feel horrible, but that isn¡¯t true anymore. ¡°Not that bad.¡±


    Both of them start laughing.


    Do I feel bad? I don''t know.


    My body feels wrung out like a rag left in the sun to dry, every muscle stretched too far, pulled too tight. The last reminder of that torture settles deep into my limps, but it is not sharp and unbearable anymore. It is more like the dull ache you feel after an intense training session, a reminder of the effort. Each movement sends a dull burn through my muscles, but I¡¯m not trembling anymore. Only weak and unsteady. And yet, beneath the fading exhaustion, there is something satisfying about the last traces of the pain. It''s proof of my efforts and of pushing past my limits.


    ¡°Come inside, let¡¯s check your gains. Your stomach needs to settle a bit before you can have breakfast.¡± Master Wen looks up to the sun, hiding between slow-drifting clouds. ¡°Lunch?¡±


    I follow him inside. Crossing the doorstep makes me feel like diving into a pool of fresh air. The contrast is almost shocking. I didn¡¯t even realize how relentless the sun outside is. I step back out of curiosity. Now, I feel the heat pressing down on my shoulders, baking the dirt beneath my feet, turning every breath into something heavy. It wasn¡¯t like this when we started this morning.


    I step back inside into the crisp and welcoming freshness. Relief floods against my sweat-dampened skin, washing even some of the pain out of my aching muscles. A shiver traces down my spine as the chill wraps around me, soothing and refreshing. I stand still for a few heartbeats, letting the heat fade and the coolness seep into my bones. My pulse slows. My body remembers how it feels to breathe without pain again. Is this some last side-effect of that pill I took? I¡¯m not sure.


    Master Wen is already waiting for me, sitting next to the jade tablet he uses to assess attributes. I walk over and channel some mana into it.


    <table width="599">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Name: Minae


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Age: 17


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Class: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Cultivation stage: Body Tempering (91%)


    Spirit root: Shadow/Steam


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Spirit pact: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Manapool: (139©¦139)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Attributes


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="196">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="202">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="200">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Strenght


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    104


    (+3)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    108


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Intelligence


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    93


    (+3)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    103


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Sensitivity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    109


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    113


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Agility


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    130


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    133


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Creativity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    111


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    115


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Channeling


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    109


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    112


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Dexterity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    128


    (+4)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    131


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Insight


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    116


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    121


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Shaping


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    55


    (+9)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    68


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Endurance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    106


    (+3)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    110


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Resilience


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    112


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    119


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Tolerance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    103


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    103


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Vitality


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    99


    (+5)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    102


    (+3)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Perception


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    112


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    115


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Resistance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    78


    (+6)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    87


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Huh? Even if it felt like hell, I can¡¯t complain about the pill¡¯s results. It¡¯s almost equivalent to a month of Bae¡¯s crazy physical training, maybe more. Gains from training are supposed to get increasingly difficult the closer you are to your potential. It¡¯s the first time I have seen increases in potential, too. Even though they seem a bit underwhelming, considering the grinder I had to pass through to get them. Bae¡¯s mental and mana training exercises are also starting to bear fruits.


    ¡°Good, good!¡± comments Master Wen. ¡°If you reach this level of training and advancement quality each time you rank up, you will claw your way into the peak, attribute-wise, before you reach immortality.¡± He grins, widely. ¡°That would be quite a feat, knowing that you were born only at the high end of the average.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± I mumble. Master Wen seems way more excited about it than I am. It¡¯s not like I have a frame of reference to appreciate what that means. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven¡¯t eaten anything since yesterday.


    ¡°Good, good! That went even better than expected. It must be because it was your first time using alchemy,¡± he ponders, almost like he is talking more with himself than with me. ¡°You will need to rest for a few days before you take the mind and mana crucible pills.¡± Shit! I forgot there are more. Do I have to pass this torture all over again? ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell Bae to prepare you something to eat? Hmm?¡±


    Sure, why not? I¡¯m starving.


    The figs are absolute bliss, a marvel of texture that melts into syrupy sweetness. They taste of earth, berries, honey, and warm orchards.


    Bae hums quietly in the kitchen, preparing me a simple meal. It''s nothing fancy, only flatbread with goat cheese, but I feel almost like a pampered noble. Is she trying to make up for the abuse or something?


    I take a bite of the warm bread. Its crispy edges shatter beneath my teeth. Yet the insides are soft and chewy. It carries the comforting taste of toasted grain, simple but rich. It is wheat bread. I thought they only grew rice here. Strange.


    The cheese melts and oozes, stretching lazily with each bite. Its salty and buttery tang coats my tongue. A hint of sharpness hides behind the smooth texture that sinks into the bread''s warmth as if they belong together. Every mouthful is a perfect balance. Earthy and creamy notes melt with a slight hint of char. A nice contrast to the sweet figs.


    The leopard purrs at my feet, begging me for a portion until I relent.


    I could get used to this. Don¡¯t think about the future pain that waits for me. Those pills can¡¯t be worse than the one I took today. Can they?

 27-Hot

    ¡°Garhek ungh gar ekh ina.¡±


    ¡°No, no!¡± Bae¡¯s scolding tone interrupts me. ¡°It¡¯s ghar ek¡¯h ina. Don¡¯t forget the click in between.¡±


    ¡°I feel like my tongue is going to break,¡± I groan. For some reason, Bae has decided that teaching me some language called Fetah¡¯k, which nobody has ever heard about, is a good way to train my intelligence attribute. I don¡¯t know about that. I believe it is training my perception and dexterity instead, with all those clicks and strange sounds it uses. They all sound the same, even though Bae insists they are not.


    ¡°Stop whining. It¡¯s not that hard.¡±


    ¡°Why are you even teaching her an Underdark language so soon?¡± interjects Master Wen, looking up from some rune-covered book he is reading. ¡°She is not nearly strong enough to venture down there yet.¡±


    Bae glares toward the cherry tree under which he is sitting. ¡°Do you ever look at what is happening outside the valley these days?¡± she asks.


    He tilts his head. ¡°Not really.¡± His hand caresses the huffing snow leopard hiding in the tree¡¯s shadow. ¡°I don¡¯t care that much anymore.¡±


    Bae huffs, seeming annoyed, making the leopard''s ears perk up in alert before he relaxes again. ¡°Well, if you would, you would see a lot of blumen explorers and scavenger parties traipsing through the woods and hills wherever you go. Sooner or later, she will encounter some of them if she has to go outside.¡±


    I freeze. Are there plans to send me away already? This arrangement is too good to last forever, but why do I feel so scared? The mountains surrounding this valley have become a cocoon to shelter me during my metamorphosis. A fragile sanctuary that protects me from the dangers lurking outside in the world I left behind. My fingers search for something to grasp. My breath is shallow, my pulse a hesitating drumbeat. There are still a lot of people out there looking for me. Even more now, with the way Bae treated that Turstan guy. The world I know is a vast space full of people out to get me. The thought wraps around my ribs, tightening. I can¡¯t risk it. Here, in this valley, I know what to expect. Out there, I have no idea. I blink and try to get a grip on myself. When did I become so attached to this place? It could be the food. It also could be because I feel safe for the first time in ages.


    ¡®Hot.¡¯


    ¡°Why are those legions that boy created not rounding them up?¡± asks Wen. ¡°Don¡¯t they hate those blumen anymore?¡±


    Bae scoffs. ¡°As if those prideful empire bastards would ever tolerate someone different than themselves.¡± She sits down on the grass, leaning her back against the trunk of another cherry tree. ¡°No, they are occupied squabbling between themselves again for some reason. So, the blumen are taking advantage of the confusion to expand and take over some isolated villages.¡±


    The words hit like a cold rush of air, numbing me for a heartbeat before panic set in. Weren¡¯t that those plunderers that love to pillage and rape wherever they pass through? I can¡¯t get out there! I feel my stomach drop. My fingers tighten around a tuft of grass as if bracing for impact. I replay the sentence in my mind, hoping I have misheard, that there is some mistake. For some reason, I remember the girl with the giant dog I encountered after escaping that forest fire. She lives all alone there with her brother. Alone and vulnerable.


    ¡®Hot.¡¯ The intrusive thought pierces through my panic. Something breaks in my mind, like a mirror that falls and shatters on the ground. I suddenly feel steadier, as if the world was out of balance and tilted back into place. What was that? Why did I panic like that? It¡¯s not like I know that much about those Blumen. Maybe they are harmless. I remember that suspicious book about them I started to read. That biased piece of crap. For some reason, my memories of it are a blur. Can books be cursed or something? Maybe I should ask about it. And where did that strange sound come from? Was it even a sound?


    ¡°¡­like always. But I suppose we can¡¯t expect more of those lazy bastards. What do you think, Minae?¡±


    I blink, trying to grasp the conversation''s thread, but it slips through my fingers like smoke. It seems like I only drifted for a moment, lost in my thoughts, but now they are looking at me, expecting something. An answer? An opinion? About what exactly? I scramble, searching their faces for a clue. My mind races to piece together the fragments I missed. My heart gives a nervous jolt. Smile, nod, act like you understand. An uneasy feeling settles inside my chest. I¡¯m an outsider in a moment that passed while I worried over nothing. Blumen, they were talking about Blumen! ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I mutter, feeling embarrassed. ¡°I don¡¯t know enough to form an opinion.¡±


    ¡°Well said!¡± praises Master Wen. Really? What exactly? ¡°The first step to wisdom is acknowledging when you don¡¯t know something.¡± For some reason, he seems proud of my non-answer. ¡°The roads are paved with fools believing that they know every answer until they discover that they don¡¯t and messed up when it is too late.¡± Okay? What is he talking about? ¡°You know. I am one of the few cultivators in the empire¡¯s history who explored deep into the Underdark, and it is nothing like most people believe.¡±


    Bae groans. ¡°Not again, you have told that story millions of times already.¡±


    ¡°Really? And how is it? I ask at the same time, feeling intrigued.


    Bae casts me a betrayed look and lets herself fall back until she disappears between the waist-high grass.


    ¡°It¡¯s marvelous!¡± exclaims Wen with a beaming smile. ¡°There are bustling cities down there, carved into the rock bed. Millions of people live in them. Some of them are even bigger than the empire¡¯s biggest cities.¡±


    I blink, trying to capture the scope and scale of what he is talking about. Bigger than Minas Kalin? How? How would logistics work? Where do they get their food? Water? No wonder they need to come up here to plunder.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t they just overrun us with their numbers if they decide to come up here?¡± I ask.


    ¡°What? Why would they?¡± He looks at me as if I asked something ridiculous. Excuse me? How should I know? ¡°You see? They don¡¯t like it up here. After living underground for generations, their skin has adapted to the lack of sunlight. Now, they need to cover themselves whenever they come up, or the sun burns them in a few minutes and gives them rashes. That¡¯s why they mostly come out when the weather is bad. Bright lights also limit their sight. They see best in the dusk or nearly darkness.¡±


    ¡°Okay, that does make some sense. But couldn¡¯t they stay inside a building during the day and move around at night?¡± Those reasons seem annoying but not that limiting with some workarounds.


    ¡°Well, they could, but they have an even greater problem to try to take over as some people fear. They aren¡¯t all that strong, far away from their centers of power. That¡¯s why they rarely venture far from the holes they spill out. The further they venture, the weaker they get, until most of their rank and file become as weak as a simple mortal.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Huh? Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s because they don¡¯t cultivate like we do.¡± What? Why would people even fear them then? ¡°Instead, they have those spirits they funnel their mana toward through their worship and beliefs. Through the adoration of the ignorant masses, those spirits can get as strong as immortal cultivators. Or even stronger inside the centers of power they call shrines or temples. Outside of them, they can¡¯t affect the world much unless they form a spirit bond with a shaman or warrior. Those people are like gates through which their spirit¡¯s power flows into our realm, letting them affect the physical and metaphysical world around them. They can be as strong as high-ranking cultivators, even if they haven¡¯t done anything themselves to merit those powers. Their societies follow a strict caste-based system. Their hierarchies are maybe even corrupter than our own.¡± He tilts his head, like trying to find the right words. ¡°It¡¯s like a symbiotic or maybe parasitic relationship. In which the benefited parties are the shamanic and warrior castes, and the spirits they worship themselves, who suck up all the efforts of the masses to increase their strength and lifespan, under the promise of protecting the rest.¡±


    A shiver travels down my spine. ¡°That sounds dark¡­¡±


    ¡°Sure, I prefer the way of cultivation, too.¡± He mutters. ¡°It¡¯s also more stable. Your strength is your own. It won¡¯t just vanish if someone eradicates the weak masses that follow you and tears down the temples where their belief gathers. It works for them because, in the Underdark, the directions from which something can attack the gigantic caves where they shelter their weak farmers and crafters are limited and easy to defend by a handful of warriors.¡± He looks toward Bae, still lying in the grass, sunning herself with her eyes closed. ¡°Up here, it would be difficult, and as long as there are no temples of worship close, the range in which their shamans and warriors are dangerous is limited.¡±


    ¡°You forgot those idiots down in Kervana,¡± interjects Bae, demonstrating that she is not sleeping.


    ¡°True,¡± acknowledges Wen. ¡°But those don¡¯t even let any half-powerful outsider take a step onto the southern continent.¡±


    ¡°Who are those? More blumen?¡± I ask.


    ¡°What? No!¡± Answers Wen with a chuckle. ¡°Don¡¯t let them hear you say something like that. They can be prickly about it.¡± He looks over to Bae, who giggles, too. ¡°They do the same thing, even if they prefer to call them gods instead of spirits. If I remember correctly, they call their spiritual leaders priests instead of shamans, and their warriors, paladins.¡±


    ¡°The funny thing is that they probably learned that method from the blumen,¡± comments Bae, still giggling.


    ¡°Some would argue that is slander, but true.¡±


    We fall into a comfortable silence, watching sheep-shaped clouds drift by. The air is thick with the scent of life, a heady blend of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass. The crisp tang of crushed clover under our feet mingles with the soft, honeyed perfume of blooming daisies, cherry flowers, and lilies that sway in the soft breeze. The faint trace of rich and loamy earth carries the memories of the last rainfall, even though the sun has dried everything around us.


    ¡®Hot.¡¯ The thought cuts through the quiet like a sharp blade, sudden and unexpected. I freeze. My breath catches in my throat as the echo lingers in the stillness. It wasn¡¯t a sound, even though it seemed as if someone just whispered into my ear. A shiver is crawling up my spine. Am I hallucinating voices where there should be silence? My mind scrambles to explain it away. Could it have been the breeze? No. I heard it before, too, even if I wasn¡¯t paying attention. Something isn¡¯t right. I strain to listen, to catch it next time. Muscles brace for what might come. The company of Wen and Bae feels comforting. If I were alone, I would probably freak out way more.


    ¡°Hot.¡± It feels almost like a whimper. A torrent of images of melting snow assaults my mind. The sun, the merciless sun, burns our blood, our fur, and our paws. I whirl around towards the leopard, gasping. ¡°Is the cat speaking?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Bae looks up. ¡°Oh, you mean Kylo. Yeah. He is annoying, isn¡¯t he? I tuned him out because I told him that if it was becoming too hot for him down here, he should go up into the mountains, but no. He feels bored alone up there, he says. But here, he won¡¯t stop whining.¡± She rolls her eyes.


    ¡°Since when can he speak?¡±


    ¡°I taught him the minor telepathy technique a few days back after he finished carving his mind meridian,¡± explains Bae. ¡°To help him communicate with others, now that his thought processes are becoming more complex.¡±


    What meridian? He is silver-rank, then. The freaking cat has a higher cultivation than myself!


    Something shifts down in the valley. It feels almost like a dark storm cloud rolling closer.


    ¡°Who is that idiot?¡± asks Wen. ¡°He is going to scare the villagers. Someone is becoming bold.¡± He smiles almost like a vicious beast.


    ¡°More visitors,¡± groans Bae. ¡°Haven¡¯t they learned their lesson?¡±


    ¡°It seems we must welcome them. Are you coming, Bae?


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    Before I can grasp what is happening, both disappear in a blur, leaving me alone with the huffing leopard, who looks at me with pleading eyes.


    ¡®Hot,¡¯ he whimpers again.


    I lean back, trying to glimpse what is happening at the valley¡¯s entrance. But it¡¯s too far away to make out any details. The oppressive feeling has disappeared, though. I wait, but Bae and Wen don¡¯t seem to be in a rush to return. What should I do with my unexpected free time?


    ¡®Hot.¡¯


    I look at the leopard, an idea blooming in my mind.


    ¡°Do you want some help, buddy?¡± I ask, wondering how good his understanding of human speech is. ¡°I can try to engrave a temperature-regulating body rune on you. This way you can stay cold wherever you go.¡±


    He tilts his head and looks at me. ¡®No hot?¡¯


    ¡°Yes, as long as you can channel mana, I see no reason you wouldn¡¯t be able to use a body rune.¡±


    He stands up, stretching himself, and strolls over closer to me. ¡®No hot!¡¯ He accompanies his thought speech with a huff, sounding almost like he is commanding me.


    I look at his dense fur. How should I do this? I take a sharp knife out of my ring. The leopard jumps back and hisses at me, eyes gleaming.


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t want to scare you,¡± I try to explain. Shit! I should have thought that would look suspicious. ¡°I need to shave a small section of your fur to be able to draw on your skin, or the lines won¡¯t be straight, and the ink won¡¯t stick.¡±


    ¡®No hot?¡¯ He huffs again.


    ¡°Sure, then you will be able to stay cold.¡±


    He walks back and turns over, exposing his belly. Huh? I didn¡¯t expect him to trust me like that. Maybe his suffering is clouding his instincts. I snicker. Ignoring his half-drawn claws and watchful eyes, I shave a small section on his pectorals between his forelegs, just big enough to draw the rune on. He probably won¡¯t have any problems channeling the full Eternal Spring rune continuously. I may need to adjust the temperature at which it will keep the surroundings of his body. His body is adapted to cold environments, after all. After all the practice modifying and creating new runes on the fly that Bae put me through, such an easy modification feels trivial. My drawing speed and precision have also improved, which I appreciate because those claws are sharp.


    ¡°Okay, finished,¡± I say. Bae looks at me, tilting his head in confusion. Oh, shit! How do I explain to him how to use them? ¡°Err, you need to channel some of your mana into the rune for it to activate.¡±


    He tilts his head again. The rune starts shining with a soft glow. He freezes mid-step, one paw hovering above the grass, ears flicking. His blue eyes widen, pupils dilating into inky pools. A twitch ripples down his sleek spine. His tail puffs up, then relaxes again.


    ¡®No hot¡­ No hot!¡¯ He starts to pounce and prod around the meadow like an excited kitten. ¡®No hot!¡¯ Suddenly, he stops, frozen in place, eyes trying to glimpse his chest. ¡®Bad.¡¯ He darts back to my side. ¡®Bad! BAD!¡¯


    His mental screams threaten to overwhelm me. Shit! Did I mess up? Is there some reason that makes mana-beasts unable to use runes? I should have asked Bae or Master Wen.


    ¡®Bad,¡¯ he whimpers again.


    ¡°Okay, okay, does it hurt or something?¡±


    He tilts his head, looking at me as if I am dumb. ¡®Hurt? No hurt. Bad!¡¯


    ¡°Okay, it is bad. But why is it bad?¡±


    A blur of images floods my mind. The sun shining onto the snow, bright and unrelenting. The sun? Does it burn or something? But he said it didn¡¯t hurt? I look at him, confused. More images assault me. A predator stalking its prey, too slow to catch them, snow-bunnies darting away, always out of reach. My eyes fall on the glowing rune. Oh!


    ¡°The rune won¡¯t let you sneak up on your prey. It¡¯s the light. The light it emits will give you away.¡±


    ¡®Yes! Bad. No sneaky,¡¯ he huffs.


    ¡°Okay, okay, I can change that. Just let me add a few modifications.¡±


    It shouldn¡¯t even be that hard. I have experimented a lot with light and invisibility, after all. Let¡¯s hope it will be enough for this big, demanding kitty.

 28-Slippery

    A warm and rich smell pierces my dreams, melting butter and the crisp sizzle of bacon. Something sweet drifts through the air like an invitation. The aroma wraps around me, coaxing me toward wakefulness, fishing me out of the depths of sleep. I stretch my arms over my head and groan, attempting to ignore the grasp of the warm sheets trying to pull me back into unconsciousness, but the smells reaching me are tempting, too. I sigh and sit up, taking in the warm sunrays filtering through the window. Mist drifts below us, hiding the bottom of the valley under a white blanket. Bae has let me sleep in. Strange.


    The world outside is quiet. The mist drowns out all the noise, but the house hums with movement, the clink of dishes, the soft scrape of a spatula against metal. My stomach tightens in anticipation.


    I push the blanket off, groggy, ignoring the weight of sleep tangling in my limbs, letting the promise of breakfast pull me into the day.


    My feet hit the floor. I sway as I stand, rubbing my face with one hand. The cool morning air creates goosebumps on my limbs.


    Barely awake, I shuffle toward the door, mind blank, except for the dull thought of something warm to wake me up.


    My foot impacts against something soft, meeting resistance. What is this? A stray piece of cloth? I feel it yield and give to the pressure of my step. My heel slips on something slick with a wet sound. I stumble back, my breath hitching. I have to grasp onto the doorframe to not lose my balance.


    I look down. There is a limp, small shape. Once white fur darkened with grime and something sticky. Eyes wide and glassy, paws curled inward.


    ¡°Eek!¡± I squeak. My stomach twists. ¡°Why is there a dead bunny at my doorstep?¡±


    The kitchen door creaks as Bae nudges it open to poke her head out. Steam escapes from a forgotten mug in her hand.


    ¡°A bunny? How cute!¡± she exclaims. I glare at her. Trying to ignore her amused grin and twitching ears. ¡°Kylo must like you if he brings you food.¡±


    Kylo? Did the cat do this? No, thank you.


    I pinch the delicate ears between my fingers, holding the small body at arm¡¯s length, trying not to touch the damp parts covered in saliva and the blood of my unwanted present. ¡°What should I do with this?¡± It feels as if it might suddenly twitch back to life. I blink. Why is it affecting me like that? It¡¯s not the first dead animal I have seen. It must be the unexpectedness. I didn¡¯t prepare myself mentally for it. That, or I am growing soft in this luxury.


    ¡°Bring it over. If it¡¯s still fresh, I¡¯ll wash it and prepare it later for lunch.¡±


    I step into the kitchen, forcing myself to move and carry it to the sink. The leopard watches me from a corner as if expecting approval. I feel torn between glaring his way or thanking him. Unease still rolls in my gut.


    I sit at the table, ignoring the huffing cat, who seems offended at my lack of reaction. My gnawing stomach makes me forget my dilemma. I start tearing into the feast Bae prepared.


    ¡°Where is Master Wen today?¡± I ask between bites. It¡¯s the first morning he hasn¡¯t accompanied us for breakfast this week.


    ¡°He went down to Minas Kalin to speak with the emperor.¡± She makes an almost dismissive gesture with her hand. ¡°Nothing important.¡±


    I gulp. Could it be related to that Turstan guy? I hope it has nothing to do with me. I shiver and try to drown out my distress in steaming flatbread covered in melting butter and honey until I calm down. ¡°What are we doing today?¡±


    Bae claps her hands together. A beaming grin splits her face. ¡°It¡¯s time for your second alchemy pill!¡±


    My throat locks. Sudden, involuntary stillness overtakes me. Half-chewed food sits heavy on my tongue. I try to bite down and swallow through my hardship, trying not to spit the food back out. ¡°The next pill?¡± A strange, cold weight settles on my chest as I remember the last one I took. It spreads out, tightening around my ribs. I can¡¯t tell if I have stopped breathing or if it only feels that way. ¡°Should I even be having breakfast?¡± My fingers curl around the edge of the table, knuckles stiff. The rest of the food, still stuck between my teeth, feels tasteless, like something foreign I¡¯m not sure I can swallow.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, there is no problem with this one. It¡¯s the most harmless one of the three.¡± Bae attempts to wave my anxiousness away, but I still look at her, wary. ¡°The effect isn¡¯t physical. You will take the Mana Crucible Pill today and the Mental one in a few days because that one can be a bit trickier.¡±


    ¡°O¡­ okay,¡± I stutter. I may not have consciously signed up for this, but I should see it through and reap all the benefits. ¡°When do we start?¡±


    ¡°After you finish breakfast.¡±


    I stand in the courtyard, three paces away from the waiting Bae. The pill feels heavy in my palm, smooth and slightly wet, similar to the Body Crucible one. This one is no larger than a chickpea, yet it seems to thrum with barely contained power. A faint, iridescent sheen dances across its surface, shifting between celestial blue and shimmering, metallic, silver hues as if it held a roiling ocean trapped within. The scent is sharp and intoxicating. It smells of fresh-cut grass and almost electrified ozone, like the air before a storm over a meadow. I turn it between my fingers. A delicate wisp of energy curls from it, zapping over my skin, sending a ripple of warmth through my veins, making my core stir. I gulp. Bae said I wouldn¡¯t throw up. If I do, it¡¯s her fault!


    I throw it inside my mouth and swallow before I can lose the last bits of my courage.


    It starts as a tremor, a faint, restless stirring in my core. Huh? Maybe it¡¯s true that it isn¡¯t that bad. I should be able to control this. I breathe through it, reining it in like I have done millions of times before while circulating. Yeah. It is easy. Why did they make so much fuzz about it?


    Then I feel it surge.


    A violent, writhing pulse of mana smashes through my grasp. A swarm, a tide of millions of small slick fish that fidget and slip through my fingers like they are not even there. They push against the edges of my being like a river straining a dam. My breath hitches. Wild and unstable energy twists inside me, curling through my veins in erratic, pulsing waves. My gathering vortex bucks and lashes as if it has its own will. I try to get a grip on it, to force the mana back into a semblance of order. But it is difficult, seemingly pointless, like trying to collect water with a sieve.


    Heat coils inside my chest, sharp and searing, radiating outward in waves. My fingers twitch, crackling with errant arcs of power. The world around me wavers, sharp edges distort. Bae¡¯s shape blurs into a red blob. She says something, but her voice sounds like she is trying to speak to me while I¡¯m underwater, and I can¡¯t understand anything.


    The air is thick with the taste of raw magic. My heartbeat pounds in my ears like a crazed drummer. Too fast, too close, too loud. Can this be right? It feels wrong. The mana doesn¡¯t only feel unstable. It is overflowing. It rises beyond my limits, spiraling recklessly, similar to what I felt during my last breakthrough but destructive.


    I stagger. A choked breath escapes my lips as a fresh pulse of energy tears through me. My vision flares white at the edges. I need to get control, or I will burn out. I¡¯ll turn myself apart.


    Or not?


    The pressure on my core during my last breakthrough felt objectively way higher. It¡¯s the lack of control that feels so disconcerting.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I take a deep breath, willing the panic to fade. Breathe. Let it fade. Slowly, it recedes.


    My control is still like a toddler trying to hold a spoon for the first time, but nothing hinders my focus anymore. I can do this even if I feel like a clumsy drunk trying to walk in a straight line. If it won¡¯t stay still, you only can adapt and let the waves come to you.


    ¡°Good!¡± praises Bae. I can understand her again! ¡°You are getting the hang of it.¡± She steps a few paces back. ¡°Now, I want you to freeform shape all the runes we have practiced these past weeks.¡±


    I blink. Did I hear that right? ¡°What?¡± Is she crazy? I can barely control the bucks and jerks of my internal flow.


    ¡°As I said. Hurry! Harness all the benefits you can before the pill¡¯s effects run out!¡±


    Merciless foxkin!


    The magic keeps slipping. Every time I try to draw a line, it twists through my fingers like smoke, dissolving before I can shape a single component of the first rune I try. My hands tremble, sluggish and unsteady. Raw mana flicks between my fingertips.


    I frown in concentration. Even the simplest runes come out too smudged and deformed to activate. I can¡¯t hold their shape long enough to finish them before they dissolve into the ambient mana.


    Why is it like this, though? If I understand the pill¡¯s effect right, apart from stirring my mana, it seems to muddle my connection with it. The lack of connection between thought and action makes it feel clumsy and foreign, undistinguishable from the ambient mana.


    It is my mana, though! I can feel it. The connection is still there, even if it feels blurred and fragile.


    I grit my teeth and try again, dragging my focus through the thick haze pressing against my skull. This rune should be simple. It¡¯s the most basic condense-moisture rune I have shaped hundreds of times during my training with Bae until I could do it without a thought.


    Now, I feel like I am back to the start, to my first try of free shaping a rune weeks ago. Even worse, my control is even more wobbly.


    Again!


    I draw the first line almost straight this time. I pull at the threads weaving through the air around me to adjust while holding it steady with an effort of will. One of the few benefits of free-shaping runes is that you can make adjustments if you mess up, as long as your willpower is high enough to hold them together and not let them disperse mid-cast.


    I¡¯m almost there. One more stroke before I can let it activate.


    My mana surges again in a wild, uncoordinated burst that sends sparks crackling up my arms. I gasp and clench my fist in an attempt to contain it. To hold the rune together. Another violent pulse makes it twist the wrong way. It collapses into fizzling motes that slowly drift away.


    Again!


    It seems to be a bit easier this time. Maybe my control is increasing. I form the rune again in a quarter of the time. I¡¯ll be able to finish it this time. I can feel it. I bite the tip of my tongue in anticipation. A pulse of mana dispels my effort.


    Wait! That wasn¡¯t my mana! A laugh echoes from somewhere nearby. Not mine. Bae! ¡°Did you need to do that?¡± I complain, glaring at her. ¡°I would have gotten there this time.¡±


    ¡°You need to increase your mana resistance, too. I¡¯m just helping you.¡± She answers with a wicked grin.


    I snort, still glaring at her. ¡°I knew it couldn¡¯t have been that easy.¡±


    ¡°Only the best for you, sweety!¡±


    Again. If I get fast enough, I may be able to outpace the disruptions she throws at me. I need to improve my speed even more.


    We enter a game, almost like a tug of war between my mana, my control over my mana, and her mana. I can feel the pressure behind my eyes pulsing in time with my heartbeat. My magic spirals out of control whenever I lose the slightest bit of focus. I need to make this work.


    We continue like this for what feels like an eternity until the last effects of the pill sputter out, and my core calms down. I managed to activate a total of two runes before Bae disrupted them. Nearly at the end, when my control started to feel like normal. Although I can¡¯t shake the feeling that she let me win both times out of pity.


    ¡°Great!¡± exclaims Bae. ¡°That went even better than expected.¡±


    I look around. The falling sun closes in on the horizon. Kylo is nowhere to be seen anymore. He must have disappeared at some point during the day without me realizing it, probably bored out of his mind. My stomach growls. ¡°Huh?¡±


    Bae hides her giggles with a hand. ¡°Hungry again? Come. Let¡¯s check your gains first, and then we can see if that bunny Kylo brought you tastes as good as it looks.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I mumble, not very convinced.


    <table width="599">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Name: Minae


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Age: 17


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Class: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Cultivation stage: Body Tempering (95%)


    Spirit root: Shadow/Steam


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Spirit pact: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Manapool: (139©¦139)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Attributes


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="196">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="202">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="200">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Strenght


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    104


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    108


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Intelligence


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    94


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    103


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Sensitivity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    112


    (+3)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    114


    (+1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Agility


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    130


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    133


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Creativity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    111


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    115


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Channeling


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    114


    (+5)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    116


    (+4)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Dexterity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    128


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    131


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Insight


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    116


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    121


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Shaping


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    69


    (+14)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    73


    (+5)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Endurance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    107


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    110


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Resilience


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    113


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    119


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Tolerance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    104


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    104


    (+1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Vitality


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    99


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    102


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Perception


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    112


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    115


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Resistance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    83


    (+5)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    87


    (+1)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°Good, good,¡± mumbles Bae. ¡°Very good. You are almost ready to advance!¡±


    ¡°Why did my shaping increase way more than my other attributes?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± She turns toward me, seeming lost in thought. ¡°Oh, that is because the lower an attribute is and the more possible potential you lost during your last advancement, the more effective alchemy is.¡± She fixes her gaze at me. ¡°Shaping was probably the only attribute you didn¡¯t get close to your potential before you advanced last time. But that is normal. Information about the few exercises a tin-ranked mage can practice to improve shaping tends to be guarded more jealously than mithril.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I mutter. Another way nobles suppress the wider populace then. ¡°Is that why my shaping is still my lowest attribute.¡± I can feel low-simmering rage bubbling inside me. Could it be that not having been raised in a noble family is what will close all those mage and mage-related paths to me? I can sympathize with those rebels trying to overthrow them. But who can guarantee they will not end up the same if they manage to grasp power? Power corrupts, those at the bottom get always fucked.


    ¡°What? No.¡± Bae interrupts my spiraling thoughts. ¡°The alchemy should have solved most of that. ¡°It definitively was your only attribute below average at birth. But don¡¯t fret. The rest of your attributes are amazing!¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± It still feels like I have bitten into a lemon. It¡¯s pure bad luck, then. Why am I disappointed? It¡¯s not like I can change what I was born with, only make the most of it. Being a mage raining down the elements on my foes would have been amazing.


    ¡°Let¡¯s prepare dinner, I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    Master Wen awaits us in the kitchen, humming to himself. How did he get back without us realizing?


    Well, he can teleport, there is that.


    ¡°How went your reunion with the boy?¡± asks Bae. Her careful hands work sprigs of herbs and garlic into the tender flesh of the bunny Kylo left us this morning. When did she have time to dress and store it?


    Master Wen sighs. ¡°You know how it goes. Lots of sycophants squirming around him like the worms they are.¡± He approaches the heart and lights a flame with a snap of his fingers that eagerly starts devouring the dry wood. ¡°I managed to negotiate a date to present Minae into high society without too much fuss.¡± He did what. ¡°It¡¯s two weeks from now. That should give us enough time for her to advance to the meridian-carving stage.¡±


    Shit! I feel like a gaping hole is opening under my feet. Why would I want to do that? I watch, absentminded, how Bae spits the bunny and starts turning it over the crackling flames. Fat drops down and sizzles between the embers.


    Breathe. It¡¯s not a problem right now. Let¡¯s hope I can change their mind.

 29-Where am I?

    The streets are slick with the rain. The faint drizzle has soaked everything, even my clothes. The air is thick with the scent of damp stone and urine. Some gang enforcers are lingering around the baker¡¯s stall beyond the alley I have been eyeing all evening. One of them is chewing and spitting Kesh leaves all over the place. His movements are twitchy and frantic. He follows the other one inside, rusty iron pipe in hand.


    ¡°Well, well, well, mister Lens. It seems you forgot something," says one of the thugs in a gravel-like voice. He is so loud I can hear him clearly from where I am. ¡°Last week, this week. You think we don¡¯t notice?¡±


    I press my back against the rough wall, keeping to the shadows, eyes fixed on the last loaves of the day stacked high outside the storefront to attract customers. The streets are empty. The pair of thugs has scared even the stragglers into hiding. We are in Red Hering territory, I think. It¡¯s hard to keep track. They change all the time with each gang war. They won¡¯t like it if they catch me stealing here. Or maybe they would force me into their gang, a fate I have managed to escape until now. They always need fresh blood.


    My stomach twists in pain. Those fucking caretakers of the orphanage don¡¯t give us enough to eat anymore. The only well-fed kids are those young and cute enough for the caretakers to believe they still can find somebody to adopt them. I failed two times because of my temper, and now they say I¡¯m too old. How can I be too old? I¡¯m five, I think, maybe six.


    ¡°I, I meant no disrespect,¡± stammers the baker in a high pitch. ¡°Business has been slow. The rain keeps the people away. The baron raised the taxes again, and I...¡±


    A soft thud silences him. I can¡¯t see what is happening inside, but it¡¯s not hard to imagine. I may have a small window of opportunity while those thugs shake that man down, and the risk is highest. The steaming loaves of bread are temptingly close but seem a world away. I stay frozen, rooted to the spot, too scared to step closer. It would be dangerous if some of them came out and saw me. I should have gone with the gatherers to search for acorns in the nearby forest. Some of the older kids know how to recognize which of the oaks have the not bitter ones. Not that I like them that much, but they fill your stomach enough to forget the hunger for a while. What else could you ask for?


    ¡°You ever see some baron, guard, or taxman around here, Biter?¡±


    ¡°Dunno. I can¡¯t remember. Maybe when they want a feisty one, over by the bawdy house?¡±


    ¡°You see? Do you think any of them care about what you do? Who do you think has been protecting you, hmm? It¡¯s not like we ask for much. We do want respect, though. We can¡¯t have our clients thinking they can pull one over us. Can we?¡±


    ¡°No, no, sorry, I would never! Please give me a few days. I¡¯ll have the silver. I swear it over my mother¡¯s grave!¡±


    ¡°Oh, this is good!¡± A loud chewing sound reaches the street. ¡°You see, the thing is that I don¡¯t believe you. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it the same last week, Biter?¡±


    ¡°It was¡­, or maybe another baker, I can¡¯t remember.¡± Laughter reaches the street. Laughter and whimpers.


    ¡°What? It was this one! Have you been drinking at work again?¡±


    ¡°No, no, I would never!¡±


    ¡°You see, mister Lens. It¡¯s always the same excuse. But you still get plenty of bread around here. Don¡¯t you? And, are those pastries? If you have money to buy sugar, you surely have money to pay us, hmm? You don¡¯t want us to get ugly.¡±


    ¡°Please, just a day. I¡¯ll have it tomorrow!¡±


    ¡°See, that¡¯s the thing. We don¡¯t like to wait. You¡¯re late once, we understand. Twice, we get irritated.¡± There is a sudden, tense silence. I¡¯m still standing in the alley, afraid to go closer. ¡°Three times? We start to break things. You have a boy, don¡¯t you? He is growing fast, isn¡¯t he? I think he is gonna go after them ladies soon. Gonna make you a grandpa, hmm? Or maybe he won¡¯t. Do you know what I mean?¡±


    ¡°Yes, no, no! I¡­, I have something. Not the full amount, but¡­¡±


    ¡°What the heck is this? Is this guy mocking us?¡± I hear another thud, followed by a stifled cry.


    A loaf of bread flies out of the window, bounces a few times over the broken cobblestones, and stops right next to my feet, pulling me out of my stupor.


    I pick it up and hide it under my tattered shirt. I look around, like a skittish mouse, for someone who may have seen me. But I¡¯m all alone out here in the rain.


    Before my luck can run out, I clutch the still-warm bread to my chest and disappear into the alley, starting my way back into one of my hideouts. Voices rise in loud shouts in the bakery, but the night is dark, and I¡¯m fast. I know all the passages only a child can twist its way through. The bread is mine.


    I kick a few loose stones away and sit on the second floor of an abandoned building a few blocks from the orphanage. Half of the roof¡¯s shingles are missing. I shift around until I find a relatively dry spot close to a broken window. It comes with the benefit of letting me observe the square without being seen.


    Guards wander up and down the street. What are they doing here?


    ¡°You gonna share some of that?¡±


    I whirl around. ¡°Huh? Dogface? What are you doing here?¡±


    He smiles at me with his crooked teeth. He got the drop on me, and he knows it.


    ¡°I was hiding from the cloaks, then saw you come up here. Thought to check out what ya¡¯ doin¡¯.¡± His sunken eyes look at me like a pleading puppy.


    ¡°Shht! Keep your voice down, you idiot!¡± I break a big piece of bread apart with my hand and pass it to him with a sigh. If I don¡¯t, he may decide to fight me for it. Why is he alone here, anyway? ¡°Have you seen Dante?¡±


    ¡°The cloaks caught him cutting purses over by the market. They said they are gonna chop his hand off later, over by the temple square.¡± A grin crosses his face. ¡°Wanna go to look?¡±


    ¡°What? No! Rat-shit! What is wrong with you? We need to help him!¡±


    The streets of the crafting quarter stretch out before me, endless and shifting like a maze. I should know this way. Why can¡¯t I recognize it? It seems to twist into shapes I almost recognize but never fully grasp. Dogface follows me hot on my heels.


    ¡°Do you know where we are?¡± I ask, maybe that idiot can be helpful for once.


    ¡°How should I know? You have always been the brain of our operations.¡±


    I snort, useless as always. Shit! If I can¡¯t find the way, we will be late for Dante¡¯s punishment. How could we even try to help him? We are just two kids, and Dogface doesn¡¯t even care. I should have punched that bastard instead of sharing my bread.


    A red fox crosses the street. ¡°Interesting,¡± it says. ¡°Don¡¯t get lost.¡± Strange, it seems familiar somehow. ¡°Hurry up!¡±


    It disappears into a red blur that melds into the shadows. Dogface acts as if it was never there. I blink. What is happening?


    ¡°Ghar ek¡¯h ina alhenk¡¯ha,¡± says a disembodied voice somewhere.


    I should know these streets. I passed through them many times once I was older. How can that be?


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Time unravels like a frayed tapestry. Its threads slip loose and spin through the void. Moments that should be distant bleed together into a bizarre knot. Past bleeds into the future, into the distant past. I am a toddler, a teenager. The Crow is teaching me to dance, how to blend in, and what to look for. Who is the Crow? The temple bells ring and ring in an earsplitting cacophony. Faces blur. Dogface asks something, but his voice is distorted. More events drift by out of order. Then time snaps back, and I¡¯m standing under the rain again.


    ¡°Come on,¡± says Dogface. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to see how they cut Dante¡¯s hand off?¡± His grin seems fake. He doesn¡¯t grin like that.


    What? No! I don¡¯t want to! We need to help him! I start running again.


    Shadows spill from the alleyways, curling like fingers, reaching for the frayed edges of my memory. I know this place. I have been here before. When exactly, I don¡¯t know. The streets blur into clarity under the flickering torches. If we turn at Carpenter Street and go straight from there, we will arrive next to the temples. And then. And then I don¡¯t know. I will think of something.


    The night cold bites through my clothes. The hunger gnaws at my insides again. Didn¡¯t I eat not so long ago? Strange. There is no time. We need to hurry.


    I am small again. I stumble through the filth of the gutter, my bare feet blackened by the grime of the streets. The air is thick with the scent of rotting food and something acrid I can¡¯t identify.


    I can hear the hollering crowd in front of us. A last turn reveals the guillotine on a stage in the distance.


    The wooden frame looms high, its edges are worn smooth by the weather and use. The blade, a dark crescent of steel, trembles in its grooves as if eager for the drop. Under it is Dante, neck fixed in place.


    ¡°What? No! No!¡± I scream, but no sound leaves my throat. I can¡¯t reach it. I can¡¯t reach it!


    A hush spreads through the gathered crowd. They hold their breath in unison. A scent of damp wood and sweat clings to the air.


    Then, with a sharp clack of release, the blade flashes down. It falls without hesitation nor mercy, dragged down by the cold certainty of gravity.


    There is a sound like an axe parting wet wood. The stage rocks slightly, dampened by fresh warmth. A murmur ripples through the spectators, then they disappear, and only Dante¡¯s head remains. It rolls towards me until it stops at my feet.


    ¡°It¡¯s your fault!¡± he accuses me, his eyes blank, with something beyond fear.


    I fall to my knees under the pouring rain. ¡°I know! I know! Sorry.¡± I sob. Regret coils in my chest, thick as smog clogging my lungs. I should have gone back. I should have kept an eye on him and Dogface. It¡¯s my fault. I¡¯m still a child, curled against a crumbling wall, careless, powerless to change destiny. I look at the disembodied head again, life slowly leaving its eyes. He looks at me, through me.


    Wait! It doesn¡¯t make any sense! Some of the faults that led to Dante¡¯s death may have been mine. But it didn¡¯t happen this way. What is this? Where am I?


    I want to tell him I¡¯m sorry, sorry for leaving him. Sorry for forgetting, even for a moment, all the moments we shared.


    ¡°It seems you still have some lingering regrets about something,¡± says the Fox. ¡°You need to get a grip on yourself and let them go if you want to wake up.¡±


    The Fox? Bae! Now I remember. She made me take the last pill this morning. Said something about pulling through the hallucination it would induce. I¡¯m not a child anymore. I am in some kind of induced nightmare. But how do I wake up?


    The world bends in ways it shouldn¡¯t. It folds on itself like a crumpled sheet of paper, edges tear, buildings distort into liquid ink that bleeds into the gutter.


    ¡°Ghar ek¡¯h ina alhenk¡¯ha.¡±


    I understand some of this language. Bae taught me. May the ceiling never fall onto your head or something like that. If I remember correctly, it¡¯s a greeting in one of the Underdark tongues. But who is calling?


    My hands stretch through the void before me, but they are not my hands but those of a tiger. I blink. The empty sky ripples and distorts. It shatters into millions of shifting reflections. Each one shows me a version of myself. Some differences are subtle, some grotesque and bizarre. My other selves start speaking. The air hums with their voices. The sound drifts around my ears like white noise, words too distorted to make out anything. I need to find my way out of here before some of them do it ahead of me. I don¡¯t want to find out what would happen then. Maybe I¡¯ll be left behind, trapped in one of those broken mirror shards.


    How would that make sense? I¡¯m the dreamer. I should be in control. I will the other shards to disappear. They burst and melt like dripping wax. Some of my reflections shrink into nothing, others drift out of their shards and dart towards me. I almost flinch back, but they only merge into my body. A flurry of ideas I never thought about assaults me. Mental connections I hadn¡¯t made, new ways to connect runes. It¡¯s so much. Too much. Light fractures in the corner of my vision, pulsing, throbbing. I can feel my heart gallop wildly in my chest. My real heart, my real body. No, no. I can¡¯t wake up yet. There is still so much to learn.


    I submerge myself again into the dream. I try to hold onto the world of ideas as long as I can. I tune everything else out. Faces and memories don¡¯t matter right now. I let them twist and dissolve before discovering who they belong to.


    I can hear birds chirping in the waking world. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to hold a little longer until the last vestiges of the pill¡¯s effect burn out.


    It happens in an instant. The world resets. I can feel myself return to my body, my tired limbs. The dream cracks apart and spits me back into the valley.


    ¡°Uff!¡± I say, opening my eyes to the blindingly bright sun.


    Bae stands before me, grinning. ¡°So? How was it?¡±


    ¡°Intense,¡± I confess. I try to catch my breath and order my thoughts. ¡°I thought I still was a child living in the streets.¡± I feel a bit dizzy. My head is still spinning.


    ¡°Well, that is one of the possible effects that can happen. Everybody reacts a bit differently.¡± She catches me before I can stumble. ¡°Wanna check your gains?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I answer. ¡°As soon as I can walk without falling over.¡±


    ¡°How did it go?¡± asks Master Wen. Was he waiting for us in the library or just minding his own business? I still don¡¯t know how to read him. ¡°Come, the tablet is ready.¡±


    <table width="599">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Name: Minae


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Age: 17


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Class: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Cultivation stage: Body Tempering (99%)


    Spirit root: Shadow/Steam


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Spirit pact: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Manapool: (140©¦140)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Attributes


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="196">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="202">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="200">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Strenght


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    104


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    108


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Intelligence


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    100


    (+6)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    105


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Sensitivity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    112


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    114


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Agility


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    130


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    133


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Creativity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    115


    (+4)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    117


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Channeling


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    114


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    116


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Dexterity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    128


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    131


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Insight


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    120


    (+4)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    122


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Shaping


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    69


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    73


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Endurance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    107


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    110


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Resilience


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    118


    (+5)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    121


    (+2)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Tolerance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    104


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    104


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Vitality


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    99


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    102


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Perception


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    116


    (+4)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    118


    (+3)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Resistance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    84


    (+1)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    87


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    ¡°Very nice,¡± praises Master Wen. ¡°Those are solid gains, good work.¡±


    Bae dances around us like an overexcited cub, swirling and weaving between the books, the illusion of a cactus with eyes trails behind her. ¡°You are almost ready to rank up!¡± she exclaims. ¡°Isn¡¯t it exciting?¡±


    ¡°Sure!¡± I say, still feeling a bit out of place.


    ¡°In the time she needs to recover from the pill, she will reach the peak of her stage for sure.¡± He sits down, stroking his beardless chin. ¡°We should prepare for the presentation. Can you take her to the village¡¯s tailor tomorrow, Bae?


    Oh, shit! I almost forgot about this. I scrap every bit of courage I can together and ask. ¡°Do we need to?¡±


    Their gazes lock onto me.


    ¡°But of course, silly,¡± says Bae stubbing my nose with one of her fingers. ¡°It will be sooo fun seeing their faces,¡± she snickers and cackles probably planning something wicked and scandalous.


    ¡°Lamentably we need to,¡± sighs Master Wen. ¡°I need to present you as my new apprentice, or all those pesky little nobles won¡¯t stop pestering me.¡±


    Oh, so it is like that. I sigh. There is no way around it then. Wait? All of them? How many will there be?

 30-Gentle tides

    ¡°What are you waiting for? Trigger your advancement. Don¡¯t be afraid,¡± Bae¡¯s voice seems to try to nudge me to stop postponing.


    Do they have to look? I sit in a meadow beside the murmuring river upstream of the valley. Wen and Bae sit a few paces away, watching me with expectant smiles that feel like spotlights, magnifying my shortcomings and every mistake I am about to make. My face burns in embarrassment. Hells! Even Kylo is here, imitating them like a silent judge, blue eyes fixed on me.


    Shouldn¡¯t this be something private? As far as I know, most people go into seclusion to advance in rank. I don¡¯t exactly know why. Maybe it is because you can¡¯t stop the process once you start, which leaves you vulnerable. As Bae taught me, if you do stop it early, you are left with an inferior quality breakthrough. This will limit the heights you can reach forever. Or maybe it is because of the smell of the impurities you purge while advancing.


    I try to ignore them and get a grip on the mana inside my core. I can feel it about to burst. If I don¡¯t advance soon in a controlled manner, the process may trigger spontaneously. That would be a disaster.


    I have practiced manipulating the mana in my core a million times whenever there was time and no witness. I should be able to do this in my sleep! But now, under their gaze, my grip on it feels clumsy, like water leaking through the gaps between fingers. My determination wavers again., The confidence I am trying to build evaporates into thin air. I sigh and clear my throat, forcing a nervous chuckle that only makes me feel worse.


    Bae smiles at me and clenches her fist in an encouraging way that says that you can do it, making me feel even more like a failure. Wen nods at me as if he is trying to be supportive but also bracing himself for whatever I may be about to do. I want to disappear, to make the ground swallow me. Maybe the current can drag me somewhere where nobody will judge me.


    Birds chirp, fluttering over the nearby forest, ignorant of my troubles. I wish I could imitate them and fly away, let the wind carry me into distant lands.


    I sigh. There is no escape from an immortal like Master Wen, or maybe two, if my suspicions about Bae are true.


    I clear my throat again and plead. ¡°Can you look away?¡±


    ¡°Oh! We are making you nervous,¡± recognizes Bae. She shares a look with Master Wen. Her shoulders sag. ¡°I suppose I can take Kylo for a stroll until you finish. One of us should be enough to guide you should you need it.¡± She sounds a bit miffed for some reason. ¡°Come, Kylo. Let¡¯s check what those Ice Spirits are doing.¡±


    The big cat looks up, huffs, and then stretches languidly before following her into the forest.


    So, they claim they were here in case I needed help, not because they are voyeurs. I sigh. I would have preferred for Bae to remain instead of Master Wen. I¡¯ve had enough time with her to get to know her. Wen still is a bit of an enigma in his distant and aloof way. I sigh again. I suppose this is the best I will get.


    ¡°Do you want me to shroud my presence?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yes! No!¡± I blink, trying to make sense of what he asked. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what is worse. Master Wen watching me or knowing someone is observing me without being able to sense them. I wish I could fall asleep and wake up in the future advanced in rank. Having forgotten this moment, reduced to a blurry memory.


    I try triggering the process again. This time, the control of my mana is smoother. There is only so long that my emotions can hold me back. My control over the mana in my core has increased by leaps and bounds with Bae¡¯s training.


    I feel the mana flowing in, stretching the walls of my core over their capacity. The process feels hypnotic, making me lose awareness of my surroundings. There is only the world inside my core now. It feels like it¡¯s moaning and groaning as it discards its old boundaries. There is no break or rush this time, only a gentle stretch that goes on and on, seemingly forever. Whenever new boundaries settle, they are eroded again. It feels smooth and gentle but goes on without pause. It feels as if someone is blowing air into a deer¡¯s bladder. It grows and grows without bursting. Maybe this is because I¡¯m triggering the process with my still tin-ranked gathering vortex. I remember Wen telling me it would be smoother this way. What he forgot to explain was that it would take forever.


    ¡°Good. You are already entering the range of superior breakthrough quality. Keep pushing,¡± whispers Wen out of nowhere an eternity later. He sounds pleased.


    Already? I barely feel the strain. That should be at least 30% of my effective attributes added to my potential. Last time, I reached 39%, but it felt like hell on Earth long before. I may achieve the theoretical limit of 40% associated with a peek or flawless breakthrough without any problem.


    My path may have been long and winding, riddled with setbacks and doubts, but now I feel strong and prepared. There isn¡¯t a mountain too big to climb. A fierce and unyielding force stirs inside me. Past failures drown in the slowly climbing tide in my core. Each becomes a stepping stone to climb higher, a lesson about overcoming hardships, and a testament to my resilience.


    I inhale deeply, the air sharp with possibility and thick with mana that continues to expand my core. I continue rebuilding the dam in response, higher and higher, keeping pace with the gently rising mana levels. A nearly forgotten fire surges inside me, spurring me onwards. I build and build, almost like laying brick after brick, outpacing the tide that tries to wash my efforts away. An eternity passes in what feels like a meditative trance. I fall out of it when my last brick falls into the void.


    I feel disoriented for a second before I understand. I have run out of space. There is nothing to anchor further growth right now. There is no possible way to build further before I break through to the next rank. I let my inner self sit back and observe. The tide still rises, reaching the heights of my latest dam with faint ripples that slowly calm the further to the limit it expands. It rises until it trembles at the rim, a quivering dome held together by its fragile inner tension. One more drop, and it will surrender, spilling over, breaking the illusion of stability. It seems to sway, almost as if waiting for my permission. I take a deep breath.


    The world tilts, and my perception of my core shifts. Strength surges through me, reaching every nook and cranny of my being in an exhilarating wave that continues in pulsing ripples, flushing out the old to make space for the new me. Then, the tide flows back. My burst core is rebuilt into something new, bigger, and stronger than ever.


    The smell of rotten meat and sulfur pulls me out of my inner world. Black gunk covers me from head to toe like last time.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± praises Master Wen. A pleased smile plastered on his lips. ¡°That went perfectly.¡±


    I blink. The sun is starting to peek over the horizon. Wait! Why is it rising? Did this breakthrough take me a full day and night? I lost track of the passage of time.


    Bae¡¯s and Kylo¡¯s faces peek out of the forest. Have those bastards been spying on me? I can feel the heat on my cheeks again. They start coming closer when they realize I¡¯m aware of their presence, a spring in their step.


    The wind shifts, and Kylo stops, whirling up a cloud of dust and loose grass. He looks at me as if I had stolen his favorite bunny.


    ¡°Sister stinks,¡± he declares, huffing and retching, holding a paw over his nose.


    Wen and Bae erupt into sharp and unrestrained laughter. It rolls over the meadow like thunder. I give the trio the stink eye. What did they expect? I can forgive Kylo. He is like an overgrown child, but Bae and Master Wen should know better.


    They laugh even louder while Kylo looks at them, seeming confused. Belly-shaking eruptions tumble in uneven bursts that tangle with the air, reckless and unapologetic in their unstifled joy.


    ¡°Oh my! Sorry, sweety,¡± apologizes Bae,¡± that reaction was just too funny!¡±


    ¡°Here. Take this lotion.¡± Master Wen throws a bottle towards me. I catch it out of reflex. ¡°It will help you clean yourself before you return to the village.¡±


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


    ¡°Take your time. You were faster than expected,¡± declares Bae. ¡°We are ahead of schedule. The seamstress hasn¡¯t even finished your dress yet.¡± We are? It seems to me that I took forever. ¡°We will wait back home to give you some privacy. Come down when you finish. Maybe I¡¯ll prepare something special to celebrate your achievement.¡±


    I watch them disappear into the distance, wandering under the warm morning breeze. Only Kylo remains with me. I look at him.


    ¡°Kylo protects,¡± he announces.


    Well, sure, whatever. He is only a cat. He doesn¡¯t understand or care about nakedness.


    I step into the river. The cool water swirls around my ankles, then rises past my calves as I wade deeper. The remnants of my breakthrough cling to my skin, resembling oily streaks. I apply a bit of Master Wen¡¯s lotion. It seems to loosen the gunk up. Then the stream pulls it away, leaving behind bare skin. I see the filth dissolving into the current, floating like oil over the clear water. Shit! Will it reach the watering canals? The lake? Could it impact the fish and other plants and animals living in the water? Why didn¡¯t Bae and Master Wen warn me about it?


    It starts fizzling. I observe what happens to the oily gunk before I take another step. It seems to evaporate until it disappears about twenty paces downstream. Huh? I suppose there isn¡¯t a problem then.


    I cup my hands, letting the rushing flow cleanse my face. The last remnants of gunk and my old self wash away. I scrub my skin until it feels raw but clean. Then, I exhale, feeling light and pure again.


    I sigh, looking at my flawless skin, somehow smoother and silkier than ever. My breakthrough has erased my body runes, too. I feel vulnerable without them. I should use my unexpected free time to reapply them. Even my hair dye is gone, and I¡¯m back to my usual shade of brown. Or maybe not. I take a strand of hair between my fingers. It seems shinier than ever, warm, almost like caramel. It seems to ripple between amber and chestnut. Huh? I wonder how it will look once it dries up.


    I sit next to Kylo, letting the sun kiss and dry my skin before I take my inkpot and brush out of my ring. If I inscribe the same set as last time without the discarded experiments, it will free space to try new ideas.


    Kylo observes me, seeming interested in my slowly filling out skin. He comes closer and stubs one of my new runes with his nose.


    ¡°What do?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? What?¡± I try not to fall over. The bastard is heavy. ¡°Oh! You want to know the rune¡¯s effect?¡± He is more astute than he looks. He must have realized that most of them differ from the one I etched into his skin a few days ago. ¡°It¡¯s an invisibility rune.¡±


    He tilts his head, looking confused. ¡°Blzblty?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Sneaky?¡± How do I explain this in a way he understands? Maybe if I demonstrate it.


    I channel a bit of mana into it to disappear from his sight. His eyes open wide, and he springs backward, fur bristling, tail puffed twice its size. His claws tear through the grass and dirt to arrest his momentum. He remains frozen, ears swiveling from side to side, eyes fixed on where I disappeared. Then, with an indignant flick of his tail, he edges closer, sniffing the air until he stubs into my invisible form, tickling me with his whiskers. I giggle.


    ¡°Good,¡± he declares. ¡°No see. Sneaky, sneaky.¡± He sits on his hind legs with a huff while I reappear. ¡°Give Kylo.¡±


    ¡°You want an invisibility rune?¡± He huffs again. Err? What could go wrong? I can imagine it. Kylo the murder kitty, the terror of bunnies. I sigh, knowing I can¡¯t say no to those pleading eyes. ¡°Sure, why not?¡±


    I shave a section on his belly and start to inscribe it. The hair has begun to regrow over the last one. I¡¯ve barely finished before he stubs me again.


    ¡°What do?¡±


    I sigh again. ¡°This one? It¡¯s a light sphere rune.¡± He tilts his head. ¡°Look.¡±


    He winces when I activate it a finger wide from his nose.


    ¡°Bad, no sneaky.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I ask, feeling a bit offended. ¡°It¡¯s not bad! It lets you see in the dark.¡±


    ¡°Kylo can see dark.¡± I wonder how he can sound almost smug in his mental speech. He stubs another rune. ¡°What do?¡±


    We won¡¯t finish until he has judged the rest of my kit, will we? ¡°It¡¯s a seal sound rune. It makes you silent so nothing can hear you.¡±


    ¡°Good. No hear. Sneaky, sneaky. Give Kylo,¡± he demands again.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    I barely have time to finish when he stubs me again. ¡°What do?¡±


    ¡°This one is an air step rune. It lets you walk in the air, great for mobility, look.¡± I take a few steps. His eyes widen. He seems to recognize it from when I used it to escape from him in the mountains.


    ¡°Good! Tricky, tricky. Give Kylo,¡± his demand sounds even more eager.


    ¡°Err?¡± Well, why not? Will he even be able to use them, though? He has four paws to coordinate. It will need some work. I need to adjust them for his weight. ¡°Give me your paw. We need to inscribe one on each of them. And you need to learn to activate them at the right time.¡± He turns over instantly as if asking me what is taking me so long.


    His pink paw pads are soft and velvety. They have a subtle give under the pressure of my fingers, like a pillow filled with warmth. His claws extend slightly before he retracts them again, still watching me intensely. I hope the runes won¡¯t mess with his sense of touch. They shouldn¡¯t. They don¡¯t do it in my case. But you never know.


    After repeating the same procedure four times, I store my inkpot, feeling tired. ¡°There, try it out.¡±


    He whirls around, jumps high into the air, shoves mana into all four of them at the same time, stumbles midair as they snap into position, and falls over, squealing and flailing wildly with his legs before he lands with a crash on his back.


    ¡°Bad,¡± he snorts, glaring at me as if I had betrayed him.


    I erupt into laughter at his disheveled appearance. ¡°No, no, you are using it wrong!¡± I demonstrate it again, taking a leap over the river and back. ¡°See? You must activate them in sequence and deactivate the correct one each time you want to take a step.¡± He tilts his head and holds one of his paws before his nose to look at it while he channels the rune. ¡°If you use it like that, it can even serve as a barrier to protect you from an attack,¡± I explain, bemused by his troubles.


    He tilts his head again before carefully taking a step, then another one. Then he seems to get the hang of it and starts darting through the air, stumbling less each time, tenacious to improve. He seems untiring, his mana unending. I see him gobble up a startled pigeon in mid-air. He shakes his head from side to side to break its neck. Then, he lets it fall before diving in pursuit. His excited roars echo across the mountains.


    At least he has forgotten to ask me about the rest of my runes. I store my stuff, put on a clean robe, and start wandering toward the village.


    Master Wen is waiting for me at the manor¡¯s doorstep. ¡°You took your time.¡± He waves at me with the already familiar jade tablet. ¡°Aren¡¯t you eager to know how much you improved with your breakthrough?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I answer, edging closer. I can hear Bae humming and singing in the kitchen, pans clinking. Kylo is still in the wind. Terrorizing birds and bunnies, probably.


    Master Wen holds the tablet over to let me channel.


    <table width="599">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Name: Minae


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Age: 17


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Class: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Cultivation stage: Meridian Carving (0%) (0/12)


    Path: None


    Spirit root: Shadow/Steam


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Spirit pact: N/A


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Manapool: (196©¦196)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="9" width="599">


    Attributes


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td colspan="3" width="196">


    Physical


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="202">


    Mental


    </td>


    <td colspan="3" width="200">


    Mana


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    Effective


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    Potential


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Strength


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    114


    (+10)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    150


    (+42)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Intelligence


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    110


    (+10)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    145


    (+40)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Sensitivity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    123


    (+11)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    159


    (+45)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Agility


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    143


    (+13)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    185


    (+52)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Creativity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    127


    (+12)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    163


    (+46)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Channeling


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    125


    (+11)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    162


    (+46)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Dexterity


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    141


    (+13)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    182


    (+51)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Insight


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    132


    (+12)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    170


    (+48)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Shaping


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    77


    (+8)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    101


    (+28)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Endurance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    118


    (+11)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    153


    (+43)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Resilience


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    130


    (+12)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    168


    (+47)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Tolerance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    114


    (+10)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    146


    (+42)


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td width="74">


    Vitality


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    110


    (+11)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    142


    (+40)


    </td>


    <td width="80">


    Perception


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    128


    (+12)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    165


    (+47)


    </td>


    <td width="78">


    Resistance


    </td>


    <td width="60">


    95


    (+10)


    </td>


    <td width="62">


    122


    (+34)


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    I gasp. ¡°How?¡± My head is spinning. The sky is falling away. No wonder Silver Rank people are so smug.


    Master Wen smiles at me, seeming pleased. ¡°Good, good! Here, take this manual. It¡¯s time to upgrade your gathering vortex to your new stage.¡±


    And to train again. I flinch and clench my teeth. The gap between my effective and potential attributes is back. Bae¡¯s excited hums in the kitchen suddenly sound ominous. Shit!

 31-The tailor

    Kylo strides toward me with flattened ears and quivering whiskers. I can hear a low, simmering growl vibrating in his throat from where I¡¯m standing. He glares at me as if I stole his favorite toy, almost making me flinch.


    ¡°Sneaky, sneaky, BAD!¡± he accuses me, the culprit of his rightful indignation because how dare I betray him or something like that, the audacity of this girl.


    I blink in confusion. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Sneaky, sneaky, bad,¡± he repeats. ¡°Mountain can see. Bae can see!¡±


    ¡°The mountain can what?¡± My imagination goes wild remembering the illusion Bae used to scare that Turstan guy and his retainer. Is she toying with Kylo at my expense?


    He looks up at me, chest puffed, glinting claws stuck in the dirt at my feet. ¡°Mountain can see!¡± An image of shifting ice crosses my consciousness.


    ¡°Oh! You mean those Ice-spirits!¡±


    ¡°Yes! Ice-tain.¡± He tilts his head. ¡°Ice spirits can see. Sneaky, sneaky, bad.¡± He scoffs, sounding condescending. How can this human be so dumb to understand him?


    ¡°Well.¡± How do I explain this? ¡°That is because they see in a different way than we do. If I remember correctly, they have mana or heat sense. You need different runes for that.¡±


    He tilts his head as if processing what I said before looking back at me, ears no longer twitching. ¡°Give, sneaky, sneaky Ice spirit,¡± he demands.


    ¡°Sure, come here.¡± When did he become so bossy? Maybe he is miffed because he had a bad encounter with one of them, thinking he was safe in his invisibility. ¡°I can¡¯t do anything about Bae, though. She is strong enough to use soul sense. I don¡¯t have runes to counter that.¡± I explain while shaving another portion of his belly.


    He looks at me as if judging if I¡¯m telling the truth, then huffs and leans back to let me work. As soon as I finish, he walks away without another word, still seeming miffed.


    I lean back against the rough bark of a cherry tree with my eyes half-lidded, protecting my pupils from the warm morning light spilling over the meadow. The wind drags its gentle fingers through the grass, making it ripple like water. An army of bees and other insects dart between swaying wildflowers. Birds trill in the distance, fluttering between the branches of another cherry tree. I smile. I think I can make a nest out. If I close my eyes and listen, it¡¯s as if I can almost hear the chirping hatchlings screaming for food. Their stressed parents flutter over the meadow, looking for worms, insects, berries, or whatever they may eat. I exhale slowly. The scent of pollen drifts in the air, carried by the breeze. The cherries are already swelling in size but are still mostly green. My fingers play with a piece of sap I found clinking to the trunk like molten honey, hardened into a glassy resin that almost resembles amber. It smells faintly sweet, of blossoms, of vitality. I can make out a trapped ant, immortalized inside for eternity.


    I let my head rest on the tree¡¯s trunk. The sun warms my exposed legs, but the shade of the branches keeps the rest of my body refreshed. I sigh, trying to relax. These past few days have been a rush forward, trying to improve following Bae¡¯s and Master Wen¡¯s orders, a blur of days, hours, and fleeting moments. Here in the hush of the meadow, I can pretend that the time has paused, even if it¡¯s just for a while. I smile again, closing my eyes. I can feel my new silver ranked gathering spiral sucking a flood of mana in from the environment. Even at just 5% completion, it¡¯s already more effective than my old, tin-ranked one. I could use this time to advance it further, but who cares? Let me relax for a while.


    ¡°Minae!¡± Bae¡¯s excited squeals pierce over the hum of the insects. I sigh and roll my eyes. There goes my chance to rest. ¡°I just got word from Hina, the seamstress. She has time to attend us now!¡±


    I stand up and follow her down the narrow dirt path that winds its way toward the village. It ends on a single-lane road, almost like the tributary of a river. A patchwork of uneven stones, worn smooth by years of footfalls, hooves, and wooden carts. Not the only way into the heart of the village, but the fastest. Grass and moss creep between the cracks, softening the hard edges under a green pillow. Some moisture from the morning dew remains on the flat surfaces and reflects the sky. As the sun warms the stone, it slowly evaporates, carrying with it the scent of earth and fresh grass that mingles with the distant smoke of hearth fires and the sweet and slightly acidic tang of crushed leaves and needles underfoot.


    We enter the village, weaving between houses built out of wood and thick bamboo trunks. Chickens scratch the ground, looking for worms. Children play uncaring about our presence. I observe the intricate lattice patterns of the walls. I never looked at them in detail before. Even the roofs are thatched with bamboo, cut in half, and overlapped like shingles. A stray dog lays beneath the shade of a raised stilt house and huffs at our passing.


    Villagers move about their day. The fishers are already on the lake, the farmers somewhere between the rice paddies. Only the young and elderly remain here. Most children ignore us, darting barefoot between the houses, entranced in their games as they are. A few old ladies greet us as we pass before returning to mend nets or weave baskets with deft, practiced hands, speaking of years of experience.


    We pass by a forge where a browless blacksmith hammers away at some crude iron farm tool, the rhythmic clang echoing between the bamboo walls. Finally, we arrive at the last house on the street, built in the same style as the rest, only a bit bigger.


    ¡°Hina is an artist, you will see,¡± explains Bae, walking beside me with a spring in her step. ¡°She used to be the empire¡¯s most demanded seamstress and tailor until she got sick of working for nobles and indecent marriage proposals a few centuries ago and decided to move here.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I mumble. ¡°Should we call?¡± Then I blink in confusion. What? She is a few centuries old. Can she even thread a needle?


    ¡°Nah,¡± denies Bae. ¡°She already sensed us. She is a Nascent-soul-stage cultivator, just two steps below the emperor himself.


    I suppress a gulp. Well, that explains it. She could be a thousand years old. High-ranked mages don¡¯t age the same, even if they haven¡¯t achieved immortality yet.


    The door opens, and a petite, middle-aged-looking woman smiles at us.


    ¡°Bae! Come in, come in.¡± Her gaze wanders over me. ¡°This is the girl, then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, what do you think?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, something light and playful in a cut that enhances her figure without impeding her movements too much. You want her to be able to fight in it, don¡¯t you?¡±


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Obviously,¡± huffs Bae.


    ¡°Figures.¡± Hina rubs the space between her eyebrows. ¡°Something with some added protection then." She sighs and bites her lower lip. Bae smirks at her. "It¡¯s never simple with you," she complains to the foxkin. "Well, come in, girl. Let me take your measurements. I think I have just the right silver-blue fabric that almost matches the color of your eyes.¡±


    Once inside, the tailor tells me to stand still. ¡°Let¡¯s see what we are working with,¡± she says, rubbing her hands together. She kneels before me, a measuring tape draped around her neck, humming softly under Bae¡¯s attentive gaze. Her calloused fingers move in a blur as she wraps the tape around my chest and waist, marking numbers in a leather-bound booklet. She steps into the back of her shop and returns with some generic grey dress made of bast linen. ¡°Try that on.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± That can¡¯t be it. Can it? This dress isn¡¯t suitable to be worn in a noble gathering. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t like it. It¡¯s comfortable and barely restricts my movements, but it is just too plain and simple.


    ¡°Well, throw a kick or something. Let¡¯s see how it falls.¡± She wants me to do what? Crazy martial-arts-addicted people. I kick high, surprised that it is possible to do so. The fabric barely slows me down. ¡°Good, good. We can take this model as a base,¡± mutters the tailor. She comes over to adjust a few pins at my hem. I watch her fluttering around me. The fabric tickles against my skin each time she pulls at it. Finally, she seems satisfied. ¡°That should be enough,¡± she mutters, taking even more notes in her booklet. After a while, she looks up at us and blinks in confusion. ¡°What are you still doing here? Shu! Out of my shop. I need space and peace to work. Come back in a few hours or so.¡±


    Bae snickers and pulls me outside by the arm before I can react. I let out a surprised squeak. ¡°Wanna grab something to eat?¡± she asks.


    ¡°What? Sure,¡± I respond. Then I remember something. ¡°Wait! Is there even an inn here?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± pouts Bae. ¡°There aren¡¯t enough travelers to make something like that profitable. But I prepared some stuff for a picnic. Let¡¯s go to the park!¡±


    It seems that for Bae, some stuff means a veritable feast. She pulls out boiled eggs, three kinds of goat cheese, a mountain of still steaming flatbread, diced mango and vegetable salad, fruits, kefir, and juices. We could probably invite half of the fishermen floating over the lake in their boats.


    I munch on a handful of nuts, watching the reflection of the shifting clouds.


    Dragonflies dart over the reeds like shards of stained glass. Their gossamer wings catch the sunlight in flashes of green and purple. A heron stands in the shallow like a patient statue, its legs half submerged. Only its vigilant eyes give away its intention to dart after the first clueless fish that dares to come close to it.


    Swallows cut through the air in sweeping arcs, chirping and catching mosquitoes. Their reflections skim the water before they turn around to disappear somewhere in the village, where I suppose their nests must be. A family of ducks drifts closer, seemingly more interested in what we are eating than in the fish swimming beneath them. As they step onto firm ground, previously hidden frogs croak in a panic before jumping into the depths to hide under the lilypads.


    Bae¡¯s laughter flits through the air before she throws a handful of bread crumbles toward the ducklings, who waddle closer in a hurry to fall over them. I imitate her, my fingers sticky with fruit juice. The scent of ripe mandarins mingles with the fresh tang of the water. The world seems to have slowed down here, as if time had softened its edges just for us, for this moment of idle joy, with bare feet in the grass, quacking ducks, and the hush of the lake lapping at the shore.


    I sigh, knowing it won¡¯t last. ¡°What should I expect at that gathering?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Dunno. I haven¡¯t attended one in centuries. Those pampered idiots always throw a fit when seeing one of my kind in their circles. Then they get scared when they notice my cultivation is higher than theirs,¡± she snickers. ¡°I used to attend to see their reactions, but that got boring and tedious fast.¡± She peels an orange with her hands shifted into claws. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t bother anymore.¡±


    Shit! I will be alone there with Master Wen. I freeze just imagining it. Time flows like viscous honey, trapping me in its slow, suffocating pull. My breath feels shallow, my pulse hammers in my ears, a cacophony made by a crazy drummer beating my insides. My muscles lock, trapping me inside my body as if movement has become a foreign concept meant for other people but not me. People who are not drowning under invisible expectations. What will I even do there? Everybody will know I¡¯m a fraud, a girl who doesn¡¯t matter, with no family to back me. I wheeze, trying to break the ice around my lungs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Minae,¡± whispers Bae into my ears. She has come close at some moment and now embraces me from behind, an anchor of warmth in the frozen darkness. ¡°In the grand scheme of things, none of those idiots matter, not even the emperor.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I mutter, slowly recovering my breath under the confused stares of the ducklings. They tilt their heads and quack before waddling back to the water, making me laugh at their antics.


    I breathe out slowly, feeling in control of myself again. What has gotten into me?


    ¡°Wanna see if Hina finished your dress?¡±


    ¡°Sure!¡±


    She has. I watch it, mouth wide open. It looks nothing like that simple linen dress she made me try earlier. How can this be based on that? What I have before me doesn¡¯t look like a dress but some fancy battle garment.


    ¡°Well?¡± The tailor looks at me as if waiting for something. ¡°Come on, try it on, girl.¡±


    It fits me like a glove, hugging my form like armor fit for a queen. I watch my reflection in the mirror twirling around. It is a masterpiece of form and function, a fusion of elegance and menace. The fitted bodice is reinforced with subtle leather, offering additional protection and enhancing my waist and chest without impeding my movements. It has some give, almost as if it is slightly elastic. The fabric cascades in silvery panels from my waist. Each slit seems designed for swift, unhindered movements that reveal glimpses of the leather greaves beneath. The sleek and fitted sleeves are embroidered with runes of power stitched in golden thread that shimmers with an inner glow. The dress is enchanted! I don¡¯t know what. I can¡¯t wait to study the runes when I have time. The leather is also thrumming with mana. It must be mana-beast hide, which can be more resistant than steel. A high collar frames and protects my neck, lending me an air of command while a flowing mantle trails behind like a ghost of silk. Every detail speaks of purpose: hidden dagger loops at the hips, white leather gloves crafted for protection and grace, and high-laced boots that could be at home in a ballroom and a battlefield.


    ¡°She looks fierce!¡± praises Bae. A wide grin plastered on her face.


    I do. I look almost like a commander or an assassin. It is not just a dress but a statement.


    ¡°Obviously,¡± says the tailor, rolling her eyes. ¡°The girl aims to be a warrior, not some shy princess.¡± She walks around me as if looking for the need for additional adjustments before nodding in approval. ¡°Good, good. It¡¯s enchanted for comfort, to keep itself clean and self-repair. But the last effect is slow unless the ambient mana density is high or you support it by channeling your mana into the specific runes.¡±


    Nice. Now, I don¡¯t even need to guess what those runes do. I wonder if I can create a personal cleansing body rune for when I don¡¯t have time or water, a thought for later.


    ¡°A rapier strapped to the hip should complement the look nicely,¡± muses Bae.


    The tailor snaps her fingers loudly. ¡°Yeah! That¡¯s what is missing. But you can find a suitable one yourself. Don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± answers Bae. ¡°Come, we need to get back. You should get some sleep while you can. You are leaving tomorrow.¡±


    The anxiety threatens to return, but I breathe through it until it falls back. I can do this.


    Kylo storms toward us halfway up the hill so fast my eyes barely follow him. He is a blur of fur that pounces across the meadow, paws barely skimming the ground. His fluffed tail curves like a banner behind him, twitching with every bound. The tall grass parts in waves as he charges forward, ears flattened by the wind, eyes wide and gleaming. A sudden burst of speed sends him skidding through a patch of dandelions, leaving golden petals and silvery-white seeds floating in his wake. Then he leaps, air-stepping mid-stride with all the chaos of a creature that knows no hesitation nor shame. He lands in a tumble, legs flailing. The grass swallows him, only to spit him out again as if nothing happened. A chirping sound escapes his throat as he finally reaches us.


    ¡°Sneaky, sneaky, good! Mountain no see!¡± he declares, pouncing around us and launching himself against our legs and waists in a flurry of purrs and triumphant headbutts, drunk in his superiority over the pesky Ice spirits. ¡°Ice-Spirit, dumb. No see. Kylo sneaky, mountain no see,¡± he explains, washing us with mental images of pride and excitement.


    Bae erupts in roaring laughter. I wince, then laugh, too. What have I unleashed upon the world?

 32-I know you. I know you, too

    The valley feels quieter than usual, hidden under a misty veil that has swallowed the morning sun. I¡¯m in the courtyard, waiting. Kylo tilts his head, watching my restless pacing, making me smile and releasing my tense anticipation. Today is the day.


    I¡¯m ready, fully dressed for a battle¡ªor a party. The nice calf-high leather boots Bae insisted were just right for me are fully laced, finally. My hair is pinned into a sophisticated mess resembling a bird¡¯s nest. Maybe one of those swallows looping around the courtyard snatching insects will calm down and lay some eggs there.


    Okay, okay. Maybe not. I acknowledge that it is an elegant masterpiece, even if it took Bae ages to finish¡ªnot something I could or even would do myself. No, thank you.


    I take in my reflection in the mirror Bae brought out to show me the result of her work. I can barely recognize my hair as mine. My recent breakthrough has made it grow out a lot, apart from lightening its natural color and giving it a coppery hue. Now, all those soft waves have been twisted and pinned at the nape of my neck and woven into an intricate knot that seems to shimmer and dance when it catches the light. Each section folds into the next like a silk ribbon. Some strands have been left loose by design to frame my face in a way that softens the updo, giving it a hint of untamable youthful rebelliousness. Tiny silver pins poke out here and there, like stars tangled in the weave that holds everything in place somehow.


    It¡¯s a hairstyle that suggests that I am someone important¡ªwith enough money to throw around¡ªthat I have servants who do it for me because there is no way to do it yourself without help.


    Well, if I¡¯m going to a gathering of nobles, the least I can do is look like one.


    ¡°Admiring yourself, I see,¡± someone snickers behind me.


    I whirl around. ¡°Bae! You scared me,¡± I accuse her in faux annoyance, which makes her snort. ¡°Is there no way you can come?¡± I ask, pouting like a child.


    She sighs and rubs her forehead. ¡°I could, but I prefer not to. The last few times I went didn¡¯t end well.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, those idiots are too close-minded. They don¡¯t think of those like me as people. More like we are pets or something.¡± She stares at her flicking tail. Her ears twitch as if listening to the memories of distant voices. ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡±


    I look at her wide-eyed. ¡°Did those idiots insult you or something?¡±


    ¡°What? No! Don¡¯t be silly!¡± She snickers again before tugging at one of the knots in my hair. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t dare. Not to my face. It¡¯s just¡­,¡± she sighs, letting her shoulders sag and her tail fall into the dirt. ¡°All those fake smiles, hiding viperine tongues and sharpened teeth. That forced laughter that sounds like glass about to crack. The not-so-subtle glances that linger on my tail or ears before looking at my dress and judging that it¡¯s too good for someone like me, that I don¡¯t belong. As if I was just there because of a fancy whim, because I¡¯m Master Wen¡¯s friend, and not because I have a right to be there due to being stronger than all of those idiots.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I mutter, not knowing what to say.


    ¡°The funny thing is¡­¡± Bae forces a grin. ¡°The funny thing is that when I say or do something about it, they get scared and make a ruckus. And then they try to get Master Wen to put me on a leash. When he ignores them, they run to search for some of their surviving old ancestors. Like the emperor¡¯s grandma, a real immortal who has retired from worldly affairs. The last time that happened, that bitch didn¡¯t even care to address me directly and instead got into a shouting match with Master Wen. I nearly thought I would die in embarrassment.¡± She looks up at me. ¡°Well, that¡¯s why I don¡¯t attend their gatherings anymore. It¡¯s almost as if they invite me to spite me and show me that I¡¯m not one of them. As if I would care.¡± She snickers again. ¡°They can keep their childish gatherings. I would rather dance with the villagers and mountain beasts than bow to a room full of arrogant bastards.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± It doesn¡¯t sound welcoming, more like a den of vipers. Having Bae at my side when I go there would be nice. She feels like a pillar to lean on. A cliff facing the storm, solid and unfaltering. Who do I even know there? I sigh. ¡°Do I have to go?¡±


    ¡°Well, you do, honey. Sorry. It¡¯s your gathering. Don¡¯t worry, it won¡¯t be that bad.¡±


    I glare at her. ¡°I don¡¯t remember having arranged it or even having the connections to do so.¡±


    Bae laughs. ¡°Obviously. Master Wen did. But everyone has to know that he found his new apprentice, and they can stop pestering him.¡±


    Bam!


    The heavy slam of the door behind us makes me flinch and turn around. Master Wen is there, hand still hovering near the handle.


    ¡°Good, good. You are ready. Let¡¯s go!¡±


    Before I can react, he snaps his fingers. The valley disappears.


    We reappear on a recently cut lawn next to a trimmed hedge labyrinth, flowering bushes interspersed through the garden, and an enormous ballroom open to the outside.


    People are wandering all around us, moving in pairs or small groups. Nobody reacts to our sudden arrival, as if we had always been there.


    ¡°It seems we arrived early,¡± observes Master Wen. He looks around as if searching for something or someone. ¡°I¡¯ll go inside to find a place to sit down and something to drink.¡± He looks at me, then at the young nobles chattering all over the garden. ¡°I¡¯ll call you when the emperor arrives. Until then, you can mingle or something.¡±


    With a snap of his fingers, he disappears, leaving me behind.


    I feel like a ship that has lost its anchor, trapped, drifting without course. The crowd¡¯s voices swell like the rising tide, too large, too bright, pressing in like a wave. I stand there, clutching the hem of my dress like a lifeline, trying to look casual. I belong. No, I don¡¯t. My skin prickles with the unmistakable weight of being seen alone. I am alone. Everybody knows each other. I¡¯m the only outsider. I try to catch my breath. Don¡¯t start hyperventilating. I¡¯m not the only one alone. There is a guy on a bench reading a leatherbound book.


    I don¡¯t have a book. Well, that is not true. I have a few in my ring. But I¡¯m unsure if I can pull off that same nonchalant and carefree look. I take a glass flute from the tray of a passing servant to have something to occupy my hands with. Then, I try to calm myself and observe. Master Wen told me to mingle. I have practiced this with The Crow, but the real deal seems more intimidating. I always felt more comfortable hiding in the shadows than in plain sight.


    Stop! Breathe. I belong. I am where I¡¯m supposed to be. I take a sip of my beverage. It¡¯s slightly acidic and surprisingly fuzzy, designed to refresh on what promises to become a hot day.


    Conversations move around me in polished, effortless currents I can¡¯t step into because I lack the context and the know-how to sail through them. Laughter rises and falls like the waves, like music in a language I don¡¯t speak.


    Glances slid over me, feeling sharper than they should, judging my worth based on what I wear. Do I look awkward? Should I move? The garden seems to spin around me. I feel myself shrinking at the edges, like a ghost at the party, trying not to drone on my solitary island between crowds.


    After a while, I calm down. Nobody cares. There is only so long you can panic with nothing happening before you become bored.


    I take a closer look at the crowd. The garden shimmers with the quiet spectacle of wealth that didn¡¯t need to announce itself because it lingers in every detail, from their sleeve¡¯s cut to the glint of fine diadems and other jewelry. The nobles move over the grass like dancers, silky velvet trailing behind them, voices low and polished, interrupted by sudden giggles and laughter. It seems somehow rehearsed as if the entire gathering was a performance and the attendants paid actors playing a role.


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    There even seem to be some patterns to the game. It¡¯s almost as if people are color-coded. The Peruvians I already recognize always wear silver-grey like me or black. Interestingly, both groups don¡¯t intermingle between them, almost as if there was a competition, a hidden rivalry. Black mingles with emerald and wine-dark red. Silver-grey does with orange and lime-green. Did I declare that I belong to one of those factions just by the color of my dress? Shit! Why didn¡¯t Bae and Hina, the tailor, think about that? Maybe it is because none of them have been to court in ages, and this is something new. Or am I imagining it?


    More fabrics brush past one another, embroidered with threads that catch the light like strands of gold or shimmering runes. I still don¡¯t understand how Hina put those runes into the dress I¡¯m wearing myself. It isn¡¯t ink but woven or stitched with metallic thread.


    The air feels heavy and saturated to the point of sweetness. Layer upon layer of expensive perfume weaves together into an almost tangible fog that lingers over us because the omnipresent mountain breeze is missing here.


    Each breath tastes like something delicate and dangerous, citrus cutting through amber, thickly blooming floral notes trying to hide under musky tones to escape the encroaching whispers of coconut and something bitter. It feels overwhelming, intoxicating, oppressive¡ªa velvet curtain of scent trying to smother me. It dances and collides into a blur of opulence, too much at once. It seeps and clings into skin and fabric like an invisible weight that follows you long after you escape. Or maybe it just feels that way because I¡¯m still trying to accustom myself to the sudden increase in perception brought by my recent breakthrough.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I see a scarlet-red blur homing in on me. ¡°Mini!¡± A girl embraces me, clinging to me as if never allowing me to get free again. The scent of roses drowns everything else out.


    ¡°Yuileen?¡± I ask.


    ¡°What? How? I thought you left!¡± she exclaims. Then, she looks at me as if I stole her favorite cookies. ¡°We thought you abandoned us! Not nice!¡± She shakes her head violently from side to side, making her red curls whirl around her face.


    ¡°Err. I didn¡¯t plan to. It was very sudden,¡± I try to apologize. Whose heir did she believe I was again? ¡°And then I couldn¡¯t leave until now.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know.¡± She pouts, taking a step back and letting me breathe. Some people cast reproachful glares at us. Then, they shake their heads and return to their conversations. ¡°Lin clan, then. Huh? Fancy dress, you look ferocious. Roar!¡± observes Yuileen with a smile while she curls her fingers and makes a pouncing gesture with her hand. ¡°Good! My mom recently befriended their patriarch.¡±


    Oh, shit! The lie about becoming some clan¡¯s new heir may come out.


    Did Bae set me up with this dress? How? They couldn¡¯t have known, I never told her about Yuileen. Did I? That said, after Master Wen announces me as his new disciple, it won¡¯t be relevant anymore.


    I take a good look at Yuileen. She hasn¡¯t changed a bit. Her fancy red dress may attempt to make her look more mature, but her demeanor isn¡¯t there yet. It clings to her body with a quiet intensity, hugging and enhancing every curve, closed on the front but wide open on the back, leaving an expanse of skin bare that seems almost scandalous, contrasting with the otherwise modest structure. The edges of the cut are soft and rounded, leading down to a slight dip at her waist before the fabric flows out, trailing behind her, almost caressing the grass like a rolling strawberry. It speaks a language of contrasts¡ªinnocent yet bold, reserved yet striking, leaving just enough to the imagination. She probably will need a stick to keep suitors away.


    ¡°Come!¡± she commands, taking me by the hand. ¡°Kamoe is over there. She won¡¯t believe that I found you first!¡±


    We walk past the entrance to the ballroom. The sharp, crystalline notes of a violin reach us like the sudden flicker of sunlight on a lake, delicate yet playful and longing. It rises in waves that dance and play in calm joy before flaring into something passionate and urgent. The dancers spin and holler until the rising tension explodes, and only silence remains. I can finally see the musician standing on a stage, eyes closed. She moves the bow, starting a new song with smooth and relentless strokes that coax the strings to sing with an almost human voice¡ªtender, fragile, and yet capable of raw and fierce emotion.


    Then we are past, and the music drowns out in the noise of the surrounding conversations. It still thumps faintly through the walls when a drum joins the party, a heartbeat muffled by the distance. I don¡¯t fully listen anymore because I see Kamoe speaking with some red-haired boy. Our eyes cross, and she freezes. ¡°Minae?¡±


    Yuileen at my side grins from ear to ear. ¡°Look who I found, Kami!¡±


    The boy at her side looks up, too. Shit! It¡¯s Turstan. He blinks as if not comprehending what his eyes are telling him. Then, his finger points toward me. ¡°You!¡± he exclaims. ¡°I know you¡­ What are you doing with my cousin? Get away from her, fiend!¡±


    Both girls look at the boy with their mouths wide open. ¡°That is no way to speak to one of my friends, Turstan!¡± Yuileen scolds him.


    ¡°Your friend?¡± He looks at me as if the world doesn¡¯t make sense anymore. ¡°But she is a cheater, that...¡± His explanation drowns out into a whisper under the glares the girls send him.


    ¡°A what?¡± asks Kamoe, looking bewildered.


    ¡°Err, we fought a duel, and he lost!¡± I explain.


    ¡°What?¡± asks Yuileen. ¡°You¡¯re not unbeaten anymore, huh?¡± She grins again. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you told anybody, Turstan?¡±


    The boy¡¯s face turns dark like an overripe cherry. ¡°Because she cheated.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± asks Kamoe. ¡°That¡¯s a serious accusation. Are you claiming Minae didn¡¯t follow the rules of your secret duel?¡±


    ¡°There weren¡¯t any rules,¡± I intervene. ¡°Nor was there anything at stake except pride. Just a fight to surrender or unconsciousness with no other limitations.¡±


    I know, I know. I may not be from a noble family, but I won¡¯t let myself be insulted before my friends. Friends? Huh? Maybe I do belong here. What was I worried about?


    ¡°How can someone cheat when there are no rules?¡± asks Kamoe, seeming interested.


    ¡°She used runes!¡±


    The girls look at each other. ¡°She beat you using runes?¡± asks Yuileen, unable to contain her laughter. ¡°No wonder you didn¡¯t tell anyone about it!¡±


    ¡°If there wasn¡¯t a rule baring their use, it can¡¯t be called cheating,¡± observes Kamoe. ¡°It¡¯s interesting, though. I wouldn¡¯t have thought runes could be useful against someone with techniques.¡±


    ¡°Argh! Whatever!¡± exclaims Turstan. He glares at me as if I am some unwelcome bug. Then his pupils widen. ¡°You! I know why you are here!¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± I mutter. I roll my eyes. It seems my anonymity is over. It doesn¡¯t matter if he tells the girls. Soon, everyone will know anyway. I wish I could catch up with them before the nightmare begins.


    I wait for the other shoe to drop, but he only glares at me in silence as if we were bitter rivals. Then he scoffs and stands up. ¡°Figures,¡± he mumbles before disappearing into the crowd.


    ¡°Ugh. He may be your cousin, Yuli, but I¡¯m relieved he is leaving,¡± whispers Kamoe. ¡°I¡¯m almost out of tactful excuses to keep rejecting his advances.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, tell me about it. That idiot doesn¡¯t understand no for an answer,¡± complains Yuileen. ¡°I have to put up with his antics on each family gathering. He still boasts about being the strongest fighter of our generation,¡± she says, rolling her eyes. ¡°Now, I can remind him that he lost a duel to a girl with lower cultivation.¡± She snickers. ¡°Well done, Mini! And you, Kamoe. Just be as rude as you can next time. I don¡¯t care if you make him cry, silly.¡± She makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. ¡°As long as you remain tactful, he will believe you are interested in him.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, boys!¡± Kamoe¡¯s voice almost sounds as if she is gathering saliva to spit.


    ¡°Tell me about it!¡± Yuileen rolls her eyes again. ¡°Boys! Always trying to seduce every pretty girl they see in their awkward way.¡± She looks over to where I am, at the runes covering my forearm. ¡°Forget about what those idiots may think. You need to redo our runes, Mini.¡± She points toward the spot where she had them and pouts. ¡°They faded two weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I concur, relieved that the interest about how and where Turstan and myself met has waned. ¡°As soon as we have some time.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I want that, too,¡± adds Kamoe. ¡°I¡¯m getting hungry. Let¡¯s get inside.


    On the marbled floor are even more nobles lurking around, most on the older side. I can see Master Wen munching on some bird¡¯s leg while sitting with both feet up on an enormous table that takes in a whole side of the room. He winks at me. Nobody seems to care about his very un-noble-like demeanor. Can¡¯t they see him? I thought Bae was the expert in using illusions. Maybe they are just too scared of him to say something or even look bad toward him. I built a mental image of what would happen when I walked in through the wide-open doors and how the air might shift. And now all that anticipation and fear collapses inside me. That isn¡¯t how I imagined it. The scene before me seems almost mundane. Well, pompous like only a gathering of nobles can be, but nothing scary.


    A butler stands at the top of a grand staircase, back straight, chin raised, voice a precise instrument honed by years of service. He subtly clears his throat before announcing the next guest I¡¯ve never seen. ¡°Lord Angus von Kellnacht.¡± His tone carries just enough weight to draw the attention of everyone not dancing toward the entrance, in which a dark figure appears.


    I see a crooked nose, sunken eyes, and a sharp and angular face. I freeze like a mouse, noticing the silent shadow of an owl. Not an owl, The Crow. That¡¯s The Crow. What the heck is The Crow doing here?


    The moment he steps into the room, I feel like time has folded in on itself. Everything pauses. What is he doing here? There he is, familiar and foreign as a forgotten song. My heart seems to skip a beat. I feel like I am balancing over the edge of an abyss.


    ¡°Minae? Are you okay?¡± asks someone by my side, pulling me out of my trance. Yuileen.


    ¡°Hmm, yeah. I thought I saw someone I knew.¡±


    ¡°That Kellnacht Lord? I think he is related to the Unterhausens.¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡±


    It can¡¯t be. Can it? I¡¯m seeing phantoms. They only look alike.


    I gaze toward where the Lord is standing. Our eyes meet. There is a flicker of recognition there, keen sharpness. He smiles at me. It¡¯s not a kind smile. It is the smile of a predator.

 33-Greet His Imperial Highness

    Music thumps over the ballroom, a deep, rhythmic pulse that makes the floor under our feet vibrate. Why is he here? I finally felt comfortable enough to relax and enjoy myself at Yuileen¡¯s and Kamoe¡¯s side. All those nobles were no longer relevant or intimidating, and I felt the party¡¯s warmth washing over me. But then I saw him.


    The Crow.


    Also known as Lord Angus von Kellnacht.


    Now he is standing there, chatting with some other Lord, his posture relaxed, too casual, like he belongs here. He also acts like he doesn¡¯t know me and has never seen me¡ªas if he never was the boon and bane of my childhood. But I know better. I feel my pulse spike. The air around me thickens into a dense soup, shrinking the room. The voices blur into meaningless noise. I feel as if my heart is frozen.


    I turn away sharply. My heart hammers back into motion. The Crow isn¡¯t supposed to be here. He isn¡¯t even a noble¡ªat least, I hadn¡¯t known that he was. That bastard has more layers than an onion. Has he come for me? I feel my stomach twist at the thought. I can feel the phantom grip of his fingers on my wrist, old memories floating to the top like shit. I remember his voice scolding me for being too loud, slow, or clumsy.


    Until I got away from him, I never knew I was missing something¡ªfreedom, a degree of control over my future. I wheeze, trying to infuse some control into my breathing. Master Wen won¡¯t let him take me back. The Crow has to know that. I remember that he had his own candidate to become Wen¡¯s disciple. That charming Kevin, but he doesn¡¯t seem too dissatisfied by this outcome either. No. His smile almost seems smug and pleased. He must be here to remind me that I owe him for educating me and that I can¡¯t ever escape no matter where I go. Someday, he will come to demand that I pay back the favor.


    My breath hitches. I feel like a cornered cat, frightened, searching for a way to leave. But I can¡¯t. I weave through the sea of bodies toward Master Wen. At least by his side, I should be somewhat safe. Should I tell him?


    Wait a minute! The Crow has some connections to those rebels. I saw those thunder sticks they use in his warehouse. Does he know that I saw them? I dare to glance at him. He still stands there, carefree. What would happen if I ratted him out?


    Somehow, I have the feeling that it wouldn¡¯t end well. The Crow never goes anywhere without planning for all the different outcomes his presence may cause. I can almost imagine it. His word against mine. The word of an empire¡¯s lord against that of a commoner whose luck everybody already envies. Yeah! Who would they believe?


    It still seems risky for The Crow if somebody decides to investigate it. Who would, though? Not Master Wen. He doesn¡¯t seem to care about anything outside his valley. He doesn¡¯t even seem to care about the rules of etiquette all the nobles around us follow, as if they are meaningless to him, too annoying. I feel envious. He may have the personal power to discard them, but I don¡¯t.


    The Crow doesn¡¯t have that strength, either. He is probably a more advanced mage than I ever thought, but he treats the other nobles as equals, not as beneath him. He must have another way to weasel himself out if things go south for him at this gathering. I wonder what.


    ¡°His Imperial Highness Gorkan III,¡± announces the butler in his deep voice.¡±


    The ballroom falls into a hush. The violin and drums sputter out into absolute silence. The heavy thud of marching boots echoes through the chamber, making all the nobles turn toward the gilded doors, swiveling their silks and brocades over the marble floor.


    The first to enter are a pair of guards, their armor so polished that it reflects the sunlight shining through the stained windows. They strike the ground with the bottom of their gleaming halberds and turn to the side, opening the way for the man following them.


    He walks in with measured grace as if everyone is beneath him. The noble crowd acknowledges that fact by bowing to him.


    Crunch! Well, everyone except Master Wen. I watch him continue chewing on some roasted bird leg. I find myself sitting at his side, somehow. When did I get here? Did he teleport me again while I was distracted?


    ¡°Relax,¡± commands the emperor with a smile. ¡°This is only a friendly gathering, after all.¡±


    Some people resume their conversations. I can see Yuileen sitting next to a woman who looks like an older version of her. The Duchess, probably. She is conversing with a pot-bellied man in silver-grey silk. Strange. I never thought a high-ranked mage could be overweight. Judging by the fact that he seems Peruvian, this must be the Patriarch of the Lin Clan Yuileen spoke about, my imaginary relative. He is one of the few in the room who seems indifferent about the emperor¡¯s presence.


    Said emperor walks toward us, followed by an entourage of stoic-faced supporters. He glides over the marble, parting the crowd before him like waves, like a man who has never questioned his right to rule. His sparkling white cloak trails behind him. Golden embroidery depicting a winged beast with a lion¡¯s head and eagle claws decorate it. The crown upon the man¡¯s brow is a massive gold band covered in twisting filigree that forms leaves motifs encased in tiny sparkling gemstones. A few enormous diamonds rest on each spire, faceted to catch and reflect the faintest ray of light. His sharp gaze wanders over the room, assessing all the gathered nobles before him as if they were pieces on a board only he controls. Then he stops in front of Master Wen and winces.


    The rest of the nobles seem to become aware of my master¡¯s presence for the first time, judging by their gasps and wide-open eyes. Yuileen and Kamoe look at me, sitting at his side with their mouth half-open. Then they close it and start chattering in a hush too low for me to understand from the other side of the room.


    ¡°You! What do you think you are doing, you brute!¡± exclaims someone in the emperor¡¯s entourage. ¡°Bow in the presence of His Imperial Majesty!¡±


    ¡°Who? Me?¡± asks Master Wen, poking between his teeth with a toothpick. ¡°Sure, why not? Protocol and all that nonsense you children love. Right?¡± Somehow, his bow seems a mockery, more than respectful. ¡°Happy?¡±


    The emperor¡¯s follower glares at him, his face turning increasingly red. ¡°Your Imperial Majesty, allow me to make that intruder a head shorter!¡±


    The emperor winces again before walking past us and sitting at the top of the long dinner table. Then, he raises a gloved hand, invoking silence. ¡°It won¡¯t do you any good to try, Arin. I know most of you have never seen him because he barely bothers to attend any social meetings, but that is the Mountain Sage.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± stammers the other man, his gaze flickers between the emperor and my master before he suddenly flinches back like a scared cat. ¡°Oh!¡±


    ¡°Well. Let us get this charade over with,¡± mutters the emperor. ¡°I have places to be, rebels to crush!¡± He sighs before turning to Master Wen. ¡°You set up this meeting to announce something, old man. Let us not waste any time.¡±


    ¡°What? Ah, sure! Master Wen points at me, a beaming smile on his face. ¡°I found my next apprentice.¡± The air in the room shifts like the hush before a storm that grows into a suffocating intensity as every gaze turns toward me. ¡°You can all stop with that backstabbing mockery and other nonsense you have converted my disciple selection process into.¡±


    Eyes, sharp as broken glass, cut through the low murmur of conversation, leaving only a cold, crackling silence in their wake. Some mask it well, disguising their envy behind practiced smiles, but others make no such effort. I can see Turstan openly glaring at me. Yuileen and Kamoe, sitting by his side, seem to be the only ones excited by the news. I can see The Crow out of the corner of my eyes. He also seems unbothered, probably expecting me to work with him.


    The rest of the crowd can barely hide their hostility. I gulp. I can almost feel it coil around me, a simmering resentment born of the belief that they are superior and bitter hearts, whispering that I don¡¯t deserve whatever fortune has placed on me. I try to raise my chin and hold my ground, but I know that after today, I won¡¯t be safe anywhere outside Master Wen¡¯s valley. The Crow smiles at me. He knows it, too. He probably thinks I¡¯ll need his help, allowing him to press me into whatever he needs me to do to compensate him like he always has done.


    The emperor sighs. ¡°Who even is this girl? Couldn¡¯t you have taken one of my talented nieces or nephews? Surely, they would merit it more.¡±


    ¡°Well. That is where you are wrong, boy,¡± answers Master Wen. ¡°The pampered twat you sent me last century was an utter disappointment. The others were more of the same. Why do you think I even set up this little competition? Hmm? It was to find those with the right amount of potential and determination to have a chance of becoming an immortal.¡± He turns toward the rest of the room. ¡°That obviously won¡¯t work if you idiots try to intercede on the new generation¡¯s behalf and convert it into a game of which brat has the most money or the best connections.¡± He looks back towards the emperor. ¡°I was about to contact your grandmother to ask her for a change in our agreement.¡± He smiles and pats my shoulder with his hand. ¡°But then the competition, the little game I set up, actually worked how it was supposed to for the first time. And what do I see when I come here? You all are grumpy about it.¡±


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


    The emperor scoffs. ¡°Are you saying that girl is more talented than my imperial scions, groomed to become powerful since they were born?¡± His gaze pierces into me as if I were an insect, a curiosity to dissect. ¡°She is barely even silver rank.¡±


    Someone audibly gasps. ¡°Only silver rank, he said?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Is this a joke? All my children are more talented than that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°That is where all you idiots are wrong. You only care about what you can see. You don¡¯t understand someone¡¯s potential,¡± interjects Master Wen.


    ¡°And what will you do, old man? Coop her up in your valley?¡± asks the emperor. ¡°She is going to have to leave someday. She has no resources or connections. People will be wary of someone powerful not bound by family blood ties.¡±


    ¡°And why would I do that? Risk and challenges are the best way to force growth.¡±


    I wince. Shit!


    ¡°Well, at least when it gets her killed, you will have to take another apprentice, maybe someone useful to the empire,¡± mutters the emperor.


    Intense gazes fall over me like wolves eyeing a prized stag. I can see The Crow smiling out of the corner of my eye.


    ¡°If that happens, sure. I know the agreement,¡± acknowledges Master Wen. ¡°But I don¡¯t think something like that will happen. I¡¯ll personally hunt down and eradicate everyone two cultivation stages or more above her who decides to go after her.¡±


    The wolves look away like chastised dogs.


    ¡°I thought you would say something like that,¡± says the emperor with a sigh. Then he blinks and looks at me with a frown. ¡°Wait! Two stages? You think that girl can defend herself against a gold rank?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely!¡± answers Master Wen with a smile. ¡°I know she already beat the candidate you selected this time in a duel. That Turstan boy.¡±


    The mentioned youth gasps, his eyes open wide before he shrinks into his seat when everybody looks at him. Then he straightens and raises his chin, pointing at me with an accusing finger. ¡°That¡¯s because she cheated! She used those runes tattooed on her! It wasn¡¯t a fair fight!¡±


    ¡°Body runes, huh?¡± mutters the emperor, ¡°interesting choice, but ultimately flawed.¡±


    ¡°Disgusting!¡± comments someone sitting at his side.


    What the heck is this? Everyone speaks about me, my choices, and my future and exposes my secrets without asking me for input!


    ¡°Are you an idiot, boy?¡± asks Master Wen. ¡°There is no such thing as a fair fight in real life. Your cultivation stage is higher than hers. You should have crushed her if you were as talented as you believe you are.¡± The boy sinks even lower into his seat, trying to hide. Master Wen turns toward the emperor. ¡°Do you see why I¡¯m happy with my new apprentice?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, maybe. It¡¯s a shame that the girl isn¡¯t a noble, though. She could have been an asset for the empire in the ongoing and coming wars.¡± He sighs before rubbing his forehead with his hand. ¡°Nobles wouldn¡¯t follow a commoner. I could give her a title. But I can¡¯t elevate her higher than a knight without causing a mess.¡±


    ¡°We are at war again?¡± asks Master Wen. ¡°I heard something about some rebels but didn¡¯t think it was serious.¡±


    ¡°The rebels aren¡¯t the problem,¡± answers the emperor. ¡°Lord Kellnacht over there managed to infiltrate their ranks. We are about to root them out. They won¡¯t survive this week.¡± He adjusts his crown. ¡°But Blumen raiders are swarming out of their holes again, and the other empires are always waiting for an opportunity to expand, not that they would succeed, of course.¡±


    So, that would have been The Crow¡¯s way out if I accused him. He isn¡¯t a rebel. He infiltrated their ranks. Somehow, I doubt it. I grew up watching him. He probably plays both sides. He always squeezes everything he can out of every situation. He creates situations to squeeze out and get more influence. I wouldn¡¯t even put it past him to be the creator of the rebel faction as a tool to gain the emperor¡¯s favor after exposing it and letting it fall.


    Yuileen is gesticulating wildly and pointing toward me, speaking with her mother and the Lin patriarch. The Lin patriarch turns in my direction, his eyes gleaming. Then he stands up and clicks a spoon against his glass to demand silence.


    ¡°Your Imperial Highness, Lords and Ladies. I¡¯m proud to reveal that the girl, the Mountain Sage¡¯s new apprentice, does have noble blood running in her veins. She is one of my Lin clan¡¯s hidden scions. We prepared her from birth for this.¡±


    They did what now? I almost scoff. The nobles look at me with interest.


    ¡°Ah, that explains it.¡±


    ¡°I knew someone without backing couldn¡¯t have beaten my niece.¡±


    ¡°She is a Lin? Are they even allowed to participate? What does it mean for the balance of power in Peruvia if she becomes immortal? Are the Han¡¯s days numbered?


    I can see the black-clad figure of the Han clan¡¯s Patriarch glaring at me. The Lin clan¡¯s Patriarch smiles before waddling toward me. I can see The Crow grimace on the other side of the room. Huh? Could it be that this isn¡¯t in his plans? Is he afraid I may have options that don¡¯t include him?


    The Lin Patriarch stops in front of me and Master Wen. I can feel a barrier fall around us, blocking the crowd¡¯s chatter.


    ¡°Honorable Sage,¡± greets the Patriarch with a bow.


    Master Wen grunts in acknowledgment. Then he picks up a pastry. The Patriarch turns toward me, rubbing his hands.


    ¡°Very well done, girl! I¡¯m proud of you!¡± He smiles at me again. ¡°Come to the Lin clan¡¯s compound after this to receive your instructions.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I say, almost choking on a sip of water. ¡°Why should I do that?¡±


    The Patriarch frowns. ¡°Girl, don¡¯t be ungrateful now. You may be the Sage¡¯s new apprentice, but that doesn¡¯t give you the right to dismiss your family. We invested a lot of resources in your growth!¡± he admonishes me.


    What did Yuileen tell him? Shit! This situation is so absurd that I can¡¯t contain my laughter. ¡°What are you talking about? I never got any resources from anybody.¡±


    ¡°Are you mocking me?¡± The Patriarch glares at me now. ¡°Don¡¯t disrespect your elders, you ungrateful wench! Mind your place!¡± He leans over the table, his face looming over me.


    ¡°You should remember the same thing, Lin Mo.¡± Master Wen¡¯s voice is barely louder than a whisper and sweet like honey, but the Lin Patriarch flinches back all the same. ¡°The girl isn¡¯t lying. I have trained her for over a month. I would have noticed if she ever had consumed resources before.¡±


    The Lin Patriarch blinks, then frowns, looking between me and Master Wen, then briefly toward Yuileen and her mother, before looking back at me. ¡°Interesting,¡± he mutters. ¡°There must have been some misunderstanding. But I can¡¯t take my word back now without losing face.¡± He tugs at his sparse beard. ¡°Maybe we can reach a compromise. Hmm?¡± He points toward the nobles around us. ¡°You need some backing to keep them off your heels, and my clan would gain recognition if one of our scions managed to become the Venerable Mountain¡¯s Sage disciple. I won¡¯t impose anything. But think about it. We can work together.¡±


    I look up to Master Wen, not knowing what to say.


    ¡°What? Don¡¯t ask me?¡± He says, still munching on his pastry. ¡°I don¡¯t care about what you do outside the valley.¡±


    The Lin patriarch smiles at those words. ¡°Think about it, there isn¡¯t a hurry. Here, take this token. It will identify you as an important clan member to every Lin elder you show it.¡±


    The barrier lifts. The murmur of the rest of the conversations falls over us like water spurting over a broken dam. The Lin Patriarch bows toward Master Wen again before waddling back toward Yuileen¡¯s mother.


    ¡°Are you finished with whatever you needed to talk about?¡± asks the emperor. He glares at us. Then he sighs. ¡°Well, I suppose a Lin is better than nothing. We may be able to make it work.¡± His frown seems to indicate that he isn¡¯t happy about the news.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the boy, Minae,¡± whispers Master Wen toward me, loud enough for half the table to hear. ¡°That boy is only grumpy because he got stuck at the Dao-seeking stage, just like the Lin and Han patriarchs. They are all a step away from becoming immortals but forever unable to take it.¡± He takes a sip from a wineglass, seemingly forgetting about the rest of the room. ¡°You know, I knew him as a toddler. His grandmother is the real powerhouse behind the throne. We had a fling when we were young and had just achieved immortality. I could have been that boy¡¯s grandfather.¡± He snickers and shrugs his shoulder, ignoring the scandalized gasps of some of the present nobles. ¡°But then I decided to explore the Underdark, and she got tired of waiting after barely a century.¡± For some reason, he rolls his eyes like a teenage girl. ¡°I had other priorities back then. I got into a fight with one of their spirit-gods. It took me a few decades to slay it. I am one of the few immortals who has managed a feat like that.¡±


    Some people gasp audibly. One of the men sitting beside the emperor scoffs. ¡°Decades to slay one of those false gods? Are you even an immortal? A mere nascent-soul stage cultivator can slay them in less than a day.¡±


    ¡°What nonsense are you talking about, boy?¡± asks Master Wen. ¡°Who even are you? I don¡¯t think I have seen you before.¡±


    The man sneers. ¡°I am Imperial Minister Kin Kulin, the empire¡¯s greatest expert on blumen and their dark spirits. I have slain dozens of them myself.¡±


    Master Wen blinks, then scoffs. ¡°Huh? Incredible. But tell me, have you ever been to The Underdark?¡±


    ¡°What? Obviously, no.¡± The man almost seems to flinch back at the idea. ¡°Why would I ever go to such a cesspit?¡±


    Master Wen bursts out into laughter. ¡°And you say you are an expert? How do you pretend to kill an immortal spirit without going down to their places of worship?¡±


    ¡°What? But I have slain dozens of them,¡± insists the man, seeming a bit less sure. The people between us have gone quiet as if they don¡¯t want to miss any detail of the conversation.


    ¡°No, no!¡± exclaims Master Wen, facepalming. ¡°What you see up here are just their avatars. Everyone knows they will be weak so far from their domains. But killing them doesn¡¯t even cause much harm to the spirit if it is one of the strong ones. They could lose hundreds of them, and they would barely notice.¡± He leans back into his seat. ¡°You see, those spirits are fascinating creatures. It¡¯s interesting how they are born. It happens when a loose soul becomes attached to a concept instead of entering the wheel of rebirth. It can be any concept: darkness, light, sickness, strength, or whatever variation of something you can imagine. A young spirit is born. You can think of it as a concept with its own will, darkness becoming sentient, for example. The Blumen learned to interact with those living concepts and receive their blessings in exchange for mana that the spirit uses to grow. The more followers a spirit gets, the more blessings it can maintain at the same time. The spirits they call gods have millions of followers. They are so massive that it boggles the mind. Thankfully, they tend to be at war with each other because they compete for the same followers to fuel their growth. They may not have physical bodies, but there are always vicious fights in the Underdark because they can grant a true blessing to any of their followers in a moment whenever they have enough free mana flow. That elevates a mere mortal to a paladin, a shaman or an avatar, someone who rivals the strength of the emperor or the Lin and Han patriarchs close to their sacred grounds. It¡¯s only far away from those sites that they are weak because it is hard to channel mana into people through long distances.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± asks a woman, a haunted look on her face. ¡°How do you kill one of those spirits then.¡±


    ¡°Well, you see. It is hard. Those spirits never fully die unless they run out of mana to hold them together. That means you need to massacre their followers until the last dies or loses faith and turns away from them. For that, you need to go down there, find all their holy sites, wherever they are, and smash them. All while those bastards send swarm after swarm of avatars at you like an angered wasp hive. And the stronger spirits can have hundreds of holy sites in caverns thousands of miles apart. If you don¡¯t find and destroy every last one, they survive. It may weaken them, but they survive. Many immortal cultivators have tried to slay a god, but few have succeeded. Most give up after a few decades.¡± Silence has fallen over the ballroom. Master Wen looks around. ¡°Well, if there aren¡¯t any more questions, it is time for me to go. I have a disciple to train.¡±

 34-Lazy master

    We find Bae sitting under a cherry tree, her fingers tracing the leather that covers the book she is reading under the last rays of the setting sun. We stride toward her in silence, listening to the steady chorus of the crickets. Their voices rise and fall, a whispering lullaby that weaves through the meadow and creeps into the hollows of the trees. Some birds stir in the branches, their calls sharp and sudden, alarmed by our arrival. They seem to scold us with their trills before they relax again when we pass under them. Only a lone nightingale sings on. High-pitched notes drift through the air like silver threads, delicate yet unwavering. Then, Kylo wanders over and huffs at us in greeting. The nightingale falls silent, too.


    ¡°Well?¡± asks Bae, looking up from the book. Her voice carries the weight of expectation. ¡°How did the gathering go?¡± She closes the book with a clap and leans closer in anticipation.


    Master Wen exhales slowly and sits down next to her. ¡°You know how it is,¡± he answers, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. ¡°The same nonsense and petty jealousy as always.¡±


    Bae frowns. ¡°Right.¡± She looks between him and me as if expecting more details.


    I don¡¯t know what to say. I¡¯m still unsure about what to make of it.


    ¡°Minae made quite an impression.¡± Wen pauses, smiling wryly. ¡°They all would love to see their brats in her position, or if not, to somehow be able to influence or control her actions. The Lin patriarch declared that she was part of his clan. Offered to sponsor her and all.¡±


    Bae raises a brow before looking at me. ¡°Huh? Do you think he is right?¡±


    I wince. ¡°How should I know? If your theory is right, I could be a Lin, a Han, or whatever.¡±


    I could ask The Crow. Not that I think he would tell me. He would at least charge me for the information, the bastard. Should I tell them that he was there? How would they react? For some reason, his name sits heavy on my tongue. It¡¯s not that saying it out loud feels dangerous, not here, but I still feel scared about the consequences. Do I owe The Crow anything? I clench my fists until my fingernails bite into my palms. I¡¯ve lived all my life without knowing my parents or if they are alive. It¡¯s not like I need more strangers trying to control my life.


    Bae¡¯s chuckles pull me out of my thoughts. ¡°You would not be the only one. It¡¯s a common fate of Peruvian bastards. Their young masters are, how should I say this?¡± She tilts her head. ¡°Prolific?¡± She leans her back against the trunk of the cherry tree, making it sway slightly. ¡°All of those offspring who don¡¯t know their fathers try to get the recognition of one of the clans. It doesn¡¯t matter much which. And with time, they all mix their blood without knowing it. That¡¯s why it doesn¡¯t matter if they are Lin, Han, Meng, Koen, or whatever. They all look similar.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I blink. ¡°So, in theory, I could choose which clan I want to belong to?¡±


    Master Wen coughs. ¡°No, you are a Lin now. Not even the Han would challenge their rival¡¯s claim at this stage. Well, unless you take on a new persona.¡± For some reason, he winks at me. Then he claps his hands together and casts me a beaming smile. ¡°I think I have an idea for your training!¡± He looks me over, muttering to himself under his breath. ¡°You want to be a rogue, ninja, or spy, or something like that. Right?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Good, good. I¡¯ve never trained a spy.¡±


    Well, he is not exactly offering to train me now, either. I almost roll my eyes at his comment.


    ¡°Speaking of rogues. Do you think someone will send assassins after her?¡± asks Bae.


    ¡°What? Sure, if they think they have a chance, they will try,¡± answers Wen, as if it were obvious. ¡°Well, they will try once she leaves the valley.¡± He grins. ¡°It will be great training.¡±


    I freeze. What are they talking about? Are they kicking me out already? ¡°I thought I would stay here to train with you?¡± I stammer after finding my courage.


    ¡°What?" asks Wen, scratching his chin. ¡°Emm. I¡¯m more of a believer in a hands-off approach. Guiding someone by the hand can¡¯t take anyone far. Sooner or later, they will have to make their own mistakes. Find opportunities in the larger world.¡± He looks towards me. ¡°You have grown a lot in a short time. What you need now is some real-world experience to settle your gains. A few years of wandering and surviving alone should do the job. You have all the knowledge you need for a while. Come back when you start compressing your core so we can check for flaws in your advancement before you rank up to what you call platinum rank.¡±


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    They are kicking me out! What did I do? Is he too lazy to train me? Would he do the same if I was some noble scion? Am I an excuse for him to relax on his duties with the empire? Breath! I can¡¯t do anything about it. It was too good to be true. I knew that there would be a catch sooner or later. But did he need to kick up that noble wasp hive? I wouldn¡¯t have gone knowing I had to leave so soon.


    I glare at him. ¡°Where should I even go? You said yourself that there would be assassins after me.¡± I start to feel the heat rising in my chest. ¡°And everyone knows my face now!¡±


    ¡°True,¡± acknowledges Bae. ¡°It may be a bit much.¡±


    Master Wen only grins. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll send you to Peruvia to give you a head-start. They look all like you anyway. It should be possible for you to hide until you return if you want to choose that approach. Or kill them and plunder their belongings if you want to. I don¡¯t care.¡± He sits straighter, leaning a bit forward. ¡°I have a task for you. Humm, a challenge, you could say, if you are up to it. It would be good training of your wit and skills.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Well, you see¡­¡± He leans even closer as if about to let me in on a secret. ¡°The Han clan have something that I want in the treasury of their clan compound in Thousand Lakes City. I would take it from them myself, but if they sense my presence close to that city, they would make a fuss and probably call over one of their old ancestors from their clan¡¯s main branch on the Eastern continent.¡±


    I roll my eyes. Does he think I am a thief for hire? ¡°How would I even recognize what you want.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that is easy. Those idiots call it the Supreme Heart of Fire or some other nonsense, but it¡¯s just a beast-core. It¡¯s as big as your fist and looks like a red gemstone. It should also glow and feel hot. It¡¯s hard to mistake it for something else,¡± he explains.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I mutter.


    Bae claps her hands together to demand our attention. Her eyes seem to gleam, catching the last sunrays. ¡°I know! Why don¡¯t you take Kylo with you? He seems to like you. And his complaints about being bored are getting annoying. It would be good for him to see the world!¡±


    ¡°Huh? What?¡± What would I even do with the cat?


    ¡°Great idea!¡± exclaims Wen.


    Before I have time to answer, the valley disappears. I find myself somewhere dark, far enough away that it is the middle of the night. Those bastards didn¡¯t even let me respond to them before they threw me wherever this is? Somewhere in Peruvia, I guess. There are no buildings anywhere in sight. Just a vast sea of grass, silver-tinged under the waning moon. It gently ripples with the wind, hiding the movements of possible wildlife. Every few hundred paces, I can make out patches of dense brush and the ghostly shadows of gnarled trees standing like sentinels against the horizon. There are crickets here, too, filling the silence with their chirps in a ceaseless lullaby that seems to dance with the shifting blades of grass. I hear a faint rustle somewhere in the distance, breaking the illusion of being here alone with Kylo. This place is alive.


    Kylo jumps up, startled at the sound.


    ¡°What? Where?¡± His ears twitch, seeking the echoes of the rustle in the darkness. I can hear his fast and shallow breaths. His whiskers tremble as he takes in the unfamiliar scents. ¡°Wrong,¡± his mind-speech sounds almost like a whisper.


    Somewhere in the distance, something moves. The wind carries the sound of cracking twigs. I can see Kylo¡¯s fur bristle, his body coiling tight. Then, the sky in the distance illuminates, and we both flinch back.


    What was that?


    The night flickers alive again, like a storm trapped upon the earth. Firebolts streak over the plain. They carve furious arcs of red and orange against the black sky before colliding with the ground, setting the grass aflame and illuminating figures locked in fierce combat. Knights dart around at high speed, their swords flashing. Mages wreathed in flowing robes hurl the elements onto other mages or try to shield their companions in the chaos before getting physical when the distance to their enemies wanes.


    ¡°What the heck?¡±


    The air trembles with a deep and thunderous hum. The ground under our feet seems to vibrate in resonance. Spells clash against shields of shimmering mana, exploding in showers of sparks that rain down like falling stars, igniting even more patches of grass. Swords clash against enchanted armor in sharp and furious rings, merging with the guttural cries of the warriors into an unrelenting symphony. Smoke and dust whirl in the flickering light, shrouding the battlefield. But the haze and poor visibility do nothing to slow the battle down. It rages on and on, an unceasing tempest of fire and steel against the endless night.


    Where did those two idiots send us? They should have checked before teleporting us close to a battlefield!


    I can feel Kylo trembling beside me. His ears flattened to his head. I sigh. I can¡¯t leave him here even if I wanted to. He is out of his element. Darn Bae! What the heck was she thinking? Did she want some alone time with Master Wen or something? They could have told me. I would have understood.


    ¡°Come. Let¡¯s get away from here before those crazy people decide to include us in their mess,¡± I propose. Kylo looks at me with his wide-open eyes.


    ¡°Good!¡±


    ¡°Use your invisibility rune. We don¡¯t want them to see us.¡± I bite my lower lip. ¡°What can we do not to lose each other?¡±


    Kylo tilts his head. ¡°Carry.¡±


    ¡°What? You are way too heavy to carry you!¡±


    He glares at me. ¡°Dumb, not heavy.¡±


    I see him shrink before my eyes until he is the size of a house cat, a small one. ¡°Huh? Since when can you do that?¡±


    ¡°Bae,¡± he explains, sounding smug.


    What? How does that even work? Where did all the extra mass go?


    He moves toward me like a shadow, swift and silent. I feel his tiny claws piercing into my calves as he scrambles up my back to burrow himself into the folds of my hood. I feel his warm and fuzzy body pressing against the nape of my neck, his heart hammering like a trapped bird, giving away his anxiety.


    ¡°Okay, whatever. Let¡¯s get out of here!¡±