by John Gold
∞ ∞ ∞
Rachel watched Ownie trying to calm Grunt down, the latter still having a hard time getting over his loss to a younger kid. Just then, applause broke out. Everything was going according to plan. Some people were out looking for information about the ritual; others were collecting money. Her father wasn’t about to give them a second chance. The clan didn’t forgive mistakes! She needed to get everything else ready, though her helper’s whining was starting to really get to her. What did they know about being weak?
“Stop your sniffling already! He just beat a Level 20 friar who was leveled-up like a tank. Do you hear the crowd?”
“Screw you. You’re a girl, you’re used to being weak, but I’m the strongest in my group! The strongest at the academy, and some shrimp just took me out.”
“Shut up.”
Rachel could have said a lot more, but nothing that came to mind sufficed for what she was thinking. How do you explain something a person can’t understand because they don’t have the experience yet? How do you read a word without knowing the letters? Grunt was nothing, used to his soft, cushy life.
In a month, Rachel would be turning eighteen, and she’d be able to do whatever she wanted. First, however, she had to take care of the deal with her father.
∞ ∞ ∞
Just like he promised, father thrashed me thoroughly. His punishment was for me to learn how to stay hidden in an urban environment and get my stealth up to 25. For every day I wasn’t able to do that, he said I’d be getting another round.
Survivability +2
My butt stings so bad! I even got a debuff: I haven’t been able to sit down for twelve hours. Whenever I try, I get this unbearable pain. Father is smart though. Even his punishments are designed to make me stronger. I’m not going to be able to do what he asked me to do today. First, I need to head into the city to meet with Bernard.
After the tournament, the mage told me to stop by the city library the next day.
Murokami, Level 292, is the librarian. He’s enormous for a human, looks more like a bookshelf. His light, radiant clothing isn’t enough to hide the knotted muscles covering his arms. One eye is missing, and there’s an ugly scar meandering across his face in place of it. The contrast just makes the remaining eye seem that much more alive as he scans the lines of the book he’s reading. It’s an odd scene that doesn’t really fit. He’s the kind of librarian you don’t need a guard for. The worst part is that he isn’t letting me in without an adult. I could, apparently, ruin or steal the books. I’m forced to use my stealth, though Murokami may have just let me in unofficially.
Bernard turned out to be right where he promised he’d be: on the second floor in the northern wing’s farthest reading room. Sunlight flooded the space.
“Oh, finally, there you are.”
Bernard is dressed in a mage’s mantle this time, though it has the same picture of the sun. Rather than sitting with a book, he’s polishing his staff with a cloth.
“So you didn’t pay the librarian to let me in?”
“Of course, I did. That’s your second lesson. The first is to never do anything without getting the quest and checking all the terms and conditions.”
Suddenly, it hit me.
“Ah, so you’re thinking back to our conversation and remembering that I didn’t give you a quest,” the mage says with a loud, obnoxious laugh. “How does it feel to be powerless? I even took your winnings.”
“I thought you could trust mages to keep their word.”
You can’t let your opponents push their advantage.
“No, today I’m kind, so I’ll go through with my part of the deal. You won eight battles and showed me a fantastic time. I made two bets: one on you winning and the other on the outcome of each battle, where I bet on you at the last moment every time. Everything I won, I dumped back into the next bet, so I won a fortune in local terms.”
“Nice!”
“Absolutely. Now listen up. There are officially nine magical primary elements, or nine paths of magic. There are the elementals—Earth, Water, Fire, and Air. Life is generally used by healers and elves, though the latter is a separate conversation. Mind is mental magic, which impacts the way people think. Space is both the simplest and the most complex primary element. The final two are Light and Dark. Magic can also take a variety of forms: Light, Fire, Water, Earth Shield, and emanations of Death.”
“What about magic schools? Or specialties?”
“At Level 50. You pick a specialty and start developing in that direction. For that, you have to have the magic skill boosted to 50. There are Fire, Earth, and Life mages, as well as mentalists, wizards, artifactors…the list is endless. Then, there are hidden battle specialties that mix the paths of the sword and magic, or secret killers, astral attacks, magic sieges. That list is long, too. But those specialties are generally offered to the best students or to those whose achievements have earned them that right. Some specialties aren’t taught by any of the mages in the academy—blood magic, ritual magic, demonology, chimerology, malefism, necromancy, and all of those, everything having to do with black or dark magic. There’s just a general course at the academy that teaches students how to fight back against them.”
Some are born with a predisposition to one of the elements as a bonus to the damage they do. There’s also a family bonus for kids from mage families, not to mention hereditary mutations, family skills, and heirlooms. Your specialty is the choice you make for how you want to develop your magic. It boosts your magic in that area by 50%.
“Can you find a teacher or learn by yourself?”
He just waves me off like a pesky fly.
“So, what do you choose?”
Once again, Bernard’s mood changes.
“The dark side is intriguing, though I’m not a mage, and that would be worthless for me. On the other hand, as a way of going forward, I really like it. All I can do for now is learn simple spells.”
Bernard doesn’t even nod. He just stares at me like I mean nothing, his eyes practically shouting, non-mage.
“Okay, then it’ll be Earth, Water, Fire, Air, Space, Light, Mind, Life, and Dark. That’s all I can do…or is it? Could I get one more little spell?”
“A hundred gold, and you’ll have your little spell. Your winnings are enough to cover that.”
“Deal.”
I don’t know how father got what he knows, but I doubt I’ll have another chance. There’s a difference between money now and money later.
Bernard gestures me to sit across from him. Placing his hand on my head, he looks me in the eye. Suddenly, there’s a sharp pain, and I black out.
Spell learned: Weaker Healing
Description: Heals the wounds of whoever it’s directed toward. The effectiveness depends on your intellect.
Effect: Restores 100 health
Mana: 10
Life Magic: +1
Life spell effectiveness: +1%
Survivability +2
There’s the first bit of good news. I’m lying on the table in a pool of blood, an unpleasant fog just about all I can see. Bernard sits there happily, even singing.
“Use the spell, and we’ll continue. We have eight more to go,” he says, his malicious laugh echoing around the room. “Get rid of the blood, otherwise someone might find it and try to use it as part of some dark deed.”
The next few hours were hell—pain broken up by lost consciousness. Just by learning magic, I picked up another 12 survivability points. And then there was my shirt, which was sopping wet with my blood after using it to mop up the table so many times. Father’s going to beat me until sunrise. But that’s okay, I can heal myself now. I’m probably looking something like that guy with the plasma knife on the lower levels, just without the crazy look in my eyes.
“Oh, you survived. Nice. The experiment was a success, so let me teach you one more thing as the bonus for putting on a show: meditation.”
“What?” I can barely think, the bloody fi
lm covering my eyes unwilling to recede. “Why?”
“A mage’s most valuable resource is his mana. During meditation, you can restore it much faster than usual, the same way sword masters use battle trances. They can restore their supply of stamina right there in the battle. For archers, it’s concentration and a little added strength. They shoot more accurately and do more damage. So… Okay, sit down on the floor like me, relax, and let your thoughts just flow.” Bernard sits down in the lotus pose.
I follow suit and start to think about what to do. On the one hand, I picked up a huge advantage, since I can use my nine spells to develop my intellect, wisdom, and morale. Still, there’s that limit I can’t get past. I’m going to have to pick up more advantages over the next two years. For now, I’ll just get by on the fact that nobody else knows how I fight.
Skill learned: meditation
Meditation: +1
Mana restoration speed: +1%
∞ ∞ ∞
Bernard somehow knows that I just finished, reacting instantaneously.
“Your meditation skill will grow as long as you don’t run out of mana, which you get faster in places of power. You’ll figure out what those are. Okay, get out of here.”
“Hey, what about my money? My winnings!”
“Oh, right, here you go.”
Still in his meditation pose, he opens his exchange window.
Bernard gives you: 130 gold coins, 17 silver coins
“Thanks.”
Now, it’s time to dash off home, first, because I have a bunch of money on me and second, because it’s already getting late. I have to take my shirt off and stick it in my inventory, running naked from the waist up. I heal my butt to get rid of the debuff. Probably not for long.
Exactly right. As soon as I get home, I see father already standing outside with his belt in his hands.
“Where’s your shirt?”
“In my bag.”
“Put it on. Don’t embarrass yourself.”
I don’t have much of a choice, and father pulls me into the house. When he hears about my deal with Bernard and about how I learned the spells, he starts by laughing long and nervously. Then, he beats me until morning. It’s a tough battle between his belt and my weak healing. Mama cries, father swings away, and I can’t see his face. That’s probably for the better.
When morning breaks, the beating stops and I get a new message.
∞ ∞ ∞
Resistance to physical damage +0.03%
Physical damage ignored up to 2/second
Life Magic +8
Life spell effectiveness +9%
Survivability +3
Morale +6
Intellect +8
Wisdom +5
After glancing at that, I quickly pull up my attribute window.
Name: Sagie
Level: 0
Experience: 0/100 (100 left until the next level)
Race: Human
Class: None selected
Basic attributes
Strength: 20
Agility: 20
Stamina: 20
Intellect: 9
Wisdom: 6
Available attribute points: 0
Additional attributes
Speed: 6
Athleticism: 3
Morale: 7
Survivability: 19
Derivative ratings
Physical damage: 10 (strength/2, but no less than 1)
Carrying capacity: 50 kg (strength*10/4)
Mana: 60 (wisdom*10)
Health: 200 (stamina*10)
Strength: 200 (stamina*10)
Health restoration: 190/minute (survivability*10)
Mana restoration: 70/minute (morale*10)
Strength restoration: 30/minute (athleticism*10)
Running speed: 6 km/h (1+speed/10)
Defense: 1
Resistance
Physical damage: 0.03% (Damage ignored: up to 2/second)
Skills
Cooking: 3
Trap setting and disarming: 8
Archery: 2
Swimming: 4
Breath-holding 5
Stealth: 3
Life Magic: 9
Mind Magic: 1
Space Magic: 1
Earth Magic: 1
Water Magic:1
Fire Magic: 1
Air Magic:1
Light Magic:1
Dark Magic: 1
Meditation: 1
Professions
Herbalist: 2
Fisherman: 16
Tailor: 2
Blacksmith: 1
Carpenter: 1
I guess my happy face says more than I’d like to show, because father’s smiling at me.
“Get some breakfast, and then tell us more about your deal with the mage.”
As we eat, father tells me how he saved the lives of two mages. Both times, they taught him a spell as a reward. They say you can pay to learn more, but he hasn’t been able to do that.
A hundred of my gold coins are for winning the tournament; the rest is from the bets I placed. When I mention how much I won, including the amount I paid Bernard, father starts coughing and mama breaks a plate. I silently hand father a hundred gold coins.
“You should keep these. I might waste them on something.”
Suddenly, they both burst out laughing, and I realize how silly that sounded.
Once he catches his breath, father continues.
“Mages don’t just teach spells to anyone. I wonder how much that Bernard won to make him so generous. He probably just gave you this hundred gold out of principle. You have to pay for everything. That’s exactly how I got my spells.”
“What, did I win him nine lives?!”
Father and mama smile lightly. The nerves are gone, they’ve calmed down.
“Maybe even ten.”
Then, they glance back at me seriously.
“So, he gave you another spell?”
“No, he taught me how to meditate. He said it works best in places of strength, though I don’t know what they are yet.”
“Meditation…” Father looks blankly at the table. “Sagie, do you want to be a mage when you grow up?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I don’t know much about the other classes. There are robbers, assassins, archers, swordsmen, warriors, paladins, friars, and craftsmen. But it’s almost impossible to get skills from other classes. When I found out that you know some spells, I realized that I could get them, too, and everything just worked out.”
“I’ve been wanting to ask you about the tournament. Sometimes, you fought haphazardly, though you used your opponent’s weaknesses or aimed for their vulnerable spots other times. You used fighting stances, planned your strategy, studied your opponents. Your mother and I know you’re a traveler from another world.”
That much was easy enough to guess by my long absences.
“Then, why were you worried? We can’t die; we’re just resurrected at the last respawn point.”
“But what if that doesn’t happen? We don’t even want to find out.”
Father wasn’t lying. As soon as we’re done eating, he goes back to beating me, this time with double the force. I practice weak healing all the way to dinner.
∞ ∞ ∞
Resistance to physical damage +0.05%
Physical damage ignored up to 12/second
Life Magic +6
Life spell effectiveness +15%
Survivability +1
Morale +6
Intellect +5
Wisdom +8
Boosting my abilities and attributes is great, but getting beaten for practically 24 hours straight is exhausting… Hard to describe the feeling.
Time to log out.
∞ ∞ ∞
The office windows offered a spectacular view of the sunrise on Jupiter, a great event for the colony. The sight was impressive, making you just want to stop and pause time for a while. On the other hand, the office’s owner paid little attention to
the beauty on display. Her internship had been going well until she was handed Anji Ganet. She’d spent the last week digging through text recordings of conversations with doctors, and the notes left by medics. Eliza loved a challenge, and the case was an intriguing one that didn’t fit into the overall picture. A flight took her down to the space port, where she promised the brigadier that the conversation would remain between them. He told her everything he knew about the previous year.
Back when Anji had first appeared in the port, nobody paid him any attention. Then, they’d noticed that some things were missing, they caught the boy, and he quickly confessed to everything. He was required to work off his debt, after which he asked to stay. There were some jobs nobody wanted and he took them. Then, he developed a close relationship with one of the engineers, though he’d disappeared after Galboa’s accident. Nobody had seen him since. The most interesting part was that the description the space port staff gave her couldn’t have been more different from what the doctors and orphanage personnel had written. He was a smart, serious, and talkative child—talkative! Sometimes, he dickered with the workers. With others, he laid out arguments well beyond his years. He didn’t cry; he didn’t whine. The brigadier said that he was even severe, more with himself than with anyone else.
“He’d scare anyone for a laugh, though he was fearless and wouldn’t tolerate anyone making fun of him. All his jobs were done on time. If he were older, I’d offer him a job.”
“What do you think about his behavior in general?”
“He didn’t let anyone close to him. Even when he talked with people, he’d stay a meter or a meter and a half away from them. He was formal with everyone except Galboa and his son.”
Eliza jotted down some notes. The way people behave in society reflects their inner world, which meant that Anji perceived his surroundings as a threat. There were only two people he trusted inside his defenses. Personal space extends out about 80 centimeters from the body, the distance at which we’re comfortable talking, though Anji pushed that out to a good 120 centimeters. Unfortunately, she wasn’t permitted to chat with Galboa—the medical staff weren’t letting anyone in. The doctors were working to restore his body, and he was unconscious.
