by Kyle Johnson
Where before, the forest was simply a seemingly a uniform collection of trees, now it was filled with signs and tracks that he could read. There, he saw the faint markings where a white deer had sharpened its antlers on a trunk. Above him rested the abandoned nest of a blood hawk, named for its crimson top feathers and its brutal eating habits. Tracks of myriad animals crossed the earth, and their musky scents filled his nostrils.
He spent the next few hours exploring the area about him, gathering useful herbs and following random trails that piqued his curiosity. He had trouble carrying the herbs until he thought to fashion a crude pouch from a few giant leaves he knew were durable and waterproof, held together with a mixture of sap and charcoal he scraped from a lightning-struck tree he found. It took him a few tries to cut the leaves in a rough approximation of the shape he wanted, but in the end he had a decent-enough carrying pouch and new notifications:
Jeff’s new pouch wasn’t much to look at, but at least it left his hands free. Even better, it gave him an inventory screen! Granted, there were only 10 spaces on the screen and 7 of them were currently filled with herbs, strips of leaf he could use as bandages in a pinch, and glue components. Still, it was better than stuffing everything in his waistband.
To his amusement, Jeff easily discovered the tracks of the elves who brought him to the Trials. They had traveled carefully, but with his new Skill level, even the faintest disturbance or scent in the air was a flashing sign pointing to the elves’ trail. He realized that, if he wanted, he could backtrack to the elves’ home at this point, but he didn’t really see a reason to. He assumed that completing the Trial would either send him back to the elves or alert them somehow so that they would return. If he went back without that happening, he doubted it would be to a warm reception.
Hours later, content from exercising his new abilities, Jeff headed back into the Trials. As he began to walk across the newly risen bridge, though, he realized: he had yet to try out his newest spell! Shaking his head, he focused on forging his armor, pouring as many SP into it as the spell would take. He calculated that, if he powered the spell fully, it would block about 150 LP of damage, so he was surprised when the spell completed:
He quickly ran the math through his head, estimating his Spell Power boosts, his First Sorcerer Title… It didn’t make sense. His math gave him 190 LP, not 224. He went through the calculations again, this time trying for exact numbers, but once again, he came up with approximately 191. No way the AI messed up the calculation, he thought silently, frustrated. What am I missing?
“You forgot to take your Intelligence into account,” Veronica’s voice sounded inside his head. “Had you looked into your abilities, you would have seen that Int gives you a bonus to Spell effectiveness similar to the one Wis gives to SP or End gives to LP. You might consider looking into those in the near future.” Jeff could have sworn he could picture the blonde woman’s smirk as she finished her explanation.
“Thanks,” he muttered, going back and re-checking all of his spell calculations. Let’s see, with an Int score of 17, I’m getting a bonus of 42%...no, that would be over 250. Aggh, I should just look at the freaking ability! He pulled up his status screen and examined Intelligence:
Oh, it’s a 2% bonus, he realized. Okay, that makes sense. So, right now, my armor is getting a 21% bonus to effectiveness. That should be useful. He dismissed the screen and hefted his staff, noting that the armor actually kept him from touching the staff with his hands. He checked his grip, and it seemed like the armor provided enough friction for him to use the staff effectively. Still, not feeling the weapon in his hands was definitely awkward, and he hoped that he wouldn’t have to go into combat anytime soon.
He crossed the new bridge in a under a minute, feeling much more comfortable on the narrow bridges by this point. The new passage was longer and narrower than even the last one: he would definitely not be able to fight in here. The stone floor was rough and uneven, and he stumbled frequently. I also won’t be sprinting down this, he grumbled. I wonder if the AI changes each Trial based on how you handled the last one. I wouldn’t put it past them.
As he stumbled down the hallway, he noticed a dim, red light coming from ahead. As before, the light pulsed regularly, but in this case, the scarlet flashes reminded him uncomfortably of blood. “Yeah, that’s totally comforting,” he muttered. “Definitely excited about this.” Despite the quiet dread he felt, he pushed forward until he found himself at the end of the passage, staring into a large, low-ceilinged room.
This room, unlike all the others, was rectangular. A straight, stone path ran centrally down the length of the room. The path was 4’ wide and dropped sharply off into darkness on each side. Jeff couldn’t quite make out what was at the bottom of those sheer drops, but from the lack of glow, at least he guessed it wasn’t lava. Beyond that, it could have been a short distance of a few feet, or an endless plummet into darkness; he had no way to tell.
The glowing, red orb waited for him at the end of the path. What grabbed his attention, though, were the walls. The walls on either side of the room were filled with alcoves. In each alcove stood a stone statue that looked like a cross between a wolf and a hyena. The statues sat, unmoving, their surfaces a swirl of red and black rock that made them difficult to see in the red light of the room. Yeah, 20 bucks says those things are gonna wake up if I enter the room, he mused. How should I play this? I can’t lure them into the passage: no way to fight in there. I can’t run back to the entrance: I could barely walk here, much less sprint. There’s not a lot of them, though. Maybe I can take them all out with a Barrage?
Jeff shrugged. It wasn’t a great plan, but until he knew how the encounter would go down, it was the best he could do. He took a deep breath and charged his arms with SP before taking a cautious step forward, a ball of light glowing in his fists. To his surprise, the statues remained still. He took two more slow steps, when a loud crash caused him to spin around.
His heart sunk as he saw that the crashing sound had come from a series of stone spikes jutting up from the floor in the doorway, slamming into the arched ceiling of the passage and effectively sealing him in the room. He turned back to see the statues finally starting to move. As the statues turned their head toward him, baring their stone fangs and rising to their feet, he raised his hands un unleashed his Mana Barrage.
The first two globes sped forth, each slamming into the chest of the nearest statue, blinding Jeff with their flashes. He was shocked as a statue sailed through the storm of spells, crashing directly into his armored chest. Jeff lost his balance, tumbled backward, and slipped off the edge of the walkway. He started to scream, but his fall was mercifully brief: after an instant, he crashed into black stone…and kept falling.
This is like the real “Floor is Lava” game, he thought wonderingly as he plunged through a thin stone crust and found himself surrounded by glowing, orange rock. His armor sparkled and crackled as it worked to keep the heat out, but after a moment it collapsed, and the molten stone poured onto his flesh. Darkness followed swiftly, and Jeff found himself once again at the stone obelisk.
Jeff shuddered at the memory of being encased in molten stone, even for an instant. That was not a pleasant way to go, he muttered as he reflexively checked himself out, making sure his body was whole. Did I at least get one of them? He pulled up his notifications and frowned:
“Seriously? Magic Resistance?” he yelled in frustration. “No point in trying to create a new spell to deal with them, then. I’ll have to do this the hard way.”
He hefted his staff and trudged back to the room, squaring his shoulders as he prepared to enter. Okay, so once the spikes rise, he planned, eyeing the room, I’ll retreat to put my back to them, so the wolf-things can’t push me into the lava again. Maybe I can try to knock them into it, instead?
He stepped into the room, waiting for the crash of the spikes sealing him in. He retreated swiftly to place his back to the spikes, his staff held before him. As the first
statue leaped over the lava trenches and barreled at Jeff, he swung hard with his staff, cracking the beast squarely on the side of the head. With a yelp, the golem flew off to the side, its paws scrambling as it slid off the pathway and plunged into the lava.
Yes! Jeff crowed triumphantly. All he had to do was knock them into the lava, and…
He was shocked as something struck him from the side, sending him flying to his left into the dark, black crust. He glanced up to see the first wolf staring down at him, orange lava dripping from its snout, which hung open in what Jeff swore was a laugh. Aw, that’s not fair, he shouted mentally as he smashed through the crust and was engulfed in molten rock. As before, his armor only held for a second or so before it collapsed, sending him to respawn.
“Totally unfair,” he complained, stamping a foot in frustration. “The lava was supposed to be the key, right? You use the environment to your advantage, knock them into the lava, and they’re puddles. Boom, you win, you go get the orb. What the hell?”
He calmed himself down and sat against the obelisk, sinking into his mindscape. He needed to blow off some steam, and his mindscape was the perfect place for that. He hefted his mental staff and began his exercises, focusing all his thoughts on the movements, allowing his mind to drift. The exercise relaxed him, and he found himself going back over the encounter in his mind.
Can’t win with magic, his thoughts swirled analytically, free of emotion and frustration. Can’t win by fighting. Can’t use the environment. That means…there’s no actual way to win. It’s a Kobayashi Maru. It’s designed to make you lose.
He absently switched the staff for a bokken, but the low overhead interfered with his strikes. Without thinking, he focused on increasing the volume of the dome and barely noticed how dim the spirals of color became as the ceiling rose to a 12-foot height. Much better, he thought as he began his sword drills. Focus on the blade. Don’t focus on the enemy, don’t focus on their movements, just concentrate on the point of contact. Just like writing code: focus on the goal…
He stopped, thinking hard. Focus on the goal, he repeated mentally. What’s the goal? Not beating the wolves: they’re just an obstacle. The goal is getting to the orb. If I can do that, I win, even if I don’t kill a single wolf.
Jeff replayed the previous encounters in his mind. It was possible, he realized. The wolves didn’t react until he was into the room, and even then, it took them a few seconds to attack. They’d still probably get to him, but if he could keep from being knocked off the path, his armor could protect him until he reached the globe, but only if that was his only focus. Focus on the goal.
He returned the sword to its resting place and rose from his mindscape feeling a new determination. He hefted his staff, figuring that even if he wouldn’t be fighting, he could deflect a wolf if needed with it, and walked resolutely back to the wolves’ den.
He considered getting a running start, but the uneven corridor made that impossible. He’d probably just fall, and knowing his luck, he’d probably fall into the freaking lava. No, he just needed to focus on the goal and go for the orb as fast as possible. He poured his SP back into his armor and got into a crouch that he had seen runners do on TV, with his fingers on the ground and one foot up between them. He took a few deep breaths, psyching himself up, and launched himself into the room.
The sound of his boots smacking on the stone was drowned out by the crash of the stone spikes slamming home, followed by the growls of the wolves. Jeff didn’t care, though: he was focused on the goal, and he was almost halfway there. He continued to run as he felt an impact slam into his back, making him stumble, but he caught himself with his staff and worked to regain his speed. More blows knocked into him, and he swung blindly backward with the staff, feeling it smack into stone bodies before something gripped it and ripped it from his hand. He ignored the loss and pushed ahead the last few feet before diving at the orb, slamming his palm onto it. As he fell into his mindscape, he turned to see that the wolves had frozen and were turning away, back toward their alcoves.
As soon as the mindscape materialized around him, he pumped his fist. “Yes!” he crowed, dancing around the dojo. “Totally pickled the Beast!”
“You did what, exactly?” Jeff was startled by Lythienne’s chuckle from behind him.
He quickly composed himself, his cheeks reddening. He had many talents, but dancing was not one of them, especially in public. “It’s a…sort of saying,” he mumbled embarrassedly. “From my world. It means I performed an act of great Agility.”
“Ah,” she nodded, eyeing him. “Well, it certainly takes some Agility to complete the third Trial,” she affirmed. “Not what I would consider a great feat, though. You ran in a straight line at an average speed. How is that impressive?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighed. He looked carefully at the specter. Was it his imagination, or did she seem less solid? “Look, about those memories…”
“They were a gift,” she replied firmly, cutting him off. “One that can not be returned, even would I allow it. Did you put them to good use?”
Jeff stared at her a moment, struggling with his emotions. “I did,” he admitted at last. “I gathered a bunch of healing herbs, tracked a ton of things, and made a cool pouch. Oh, and I took the Herbalist profession.”
“A worthy one,” the old woman approved. “Despite that they are looked down upon by Alchemists and Clerics, who rely upon magic for their abilities, Herbalists are capable of amazing feats of healing and cultivation. It is something of which to be proud.”
She straightened. “In any case,” she went on, “you have one question and one spell. Which would you like first?”
“The question,” Jeff replied. “I’ve kept seeing about how you can give spells an aspect: can you teach me that?”
“That, child, I cannot,” the woman replied regretfully. He began to protest, but she cut him off. “You simply do not have the necessary Skills, I am afraid. You need greater control of your Mana and your Sorcery. However, I can tell you how the ability is accomplished, not that it will do you much good.”
The woman gestured, and an image of chaotic, rainbow mana appeared in the air. “This is, as you know, unaspected mana,” she explained. “It is a tangle of energies. When you draw from it, you draw many different types of energies, some of them quite incompatible with one another.” She moved her hand, and the image zoomed in to show two threads, dancing around one another, one a fiery red, the other a deep blue.
“Here, you see a strand of fire mana and one of water mana,” she continued. “These are incompatible mana types: when you attempt to combine them, they will either repel one another or destroy themselves in a burst of energy. Thus, when you use unaspected mana, much of your energy is spent in simply containing these opposing forces.”
She waved her hand again, and the image panned out to show the swirling mass of mana, but as Jeff watched, the colors shifted into a series of striations, each a slightly different color and shade. “This is aspected mana,” she explained. “As you can see, much of the mana has been separated into individual aspects. This allows you to cast spells that are one almost completely one aspect or combine multiple aspects to create Enhanced aspects.”
“Wait, Enhanced aspects?” he interrupted? “What are those? And what are the aspects?”
The old woman waved her hand. “That will take longer than we have time for,” she demurred. “Suffice it to say, it is possible to combine Primary aspects to create Enhanced ones that share the characteristics of both.”
She passed her hand through the image and it dispersed with a shimmer. “What is important,” she finished, “is that until you have learned to control that chaotic mess, you will not be able to aspect your spells.” She waved her hand at the rainbow spirals overhead.
“And, while we speak of spells,” Lythienne quickly changed the subject by raising both hands, summoning a glowing, white disc in the air. “This is a Mana Shield. It is the next
spell I will teach you.”
She gestured, and the shield swung smoothly in concert with her motions. “The Mana Shield is but your SP given solid form,” she explained. “It moves at your will and can act as additional Defense, among other things.” She spread her hands apart, and the disc widened until she was obscured behind it. “It can also serve as a wall or temporary door. Like your Mana Armor, it can deflect damage based on the number of SP you invest in it; unlike the Armor, it moves essentially at your will.” She shook her hands, and the shield vanished.
Jeff sat down, closing his eyes and concentrating on the spell. He pictured himself pouring his mana into a mold made of his will, felt it hanging before him, heard it hum as it coalesced. He felt the air being displaced as the shield moved with his will and sensed the impact as he imagined the stone wolves striking it and being repelled. Over and over, he replayed the image, pouring SP into it, but as he did, something felt wrong.
He relaxed his thoughts and observed the spell forming, sensing the image but not controlling it. After the fourth repetition, something interesting caught his eye. Why does the shape have to be a disc? he wondered internally as he watched the mana filling the mold his will had created. What’s the essence of this spell? Not creating a shield: it’s creating a form, filling that with mana, and forcing it to solidify. Really, you could make the shape anything you wanted…
The next time the image restarted, rather than imagining a disc form, Jeff pictured the mana forming into a blade, which he saw himself wielding against the wolves. The next time, he changed the shape into a staff, then a spear. As the image replayed, each time he pictured a different image – a ladder to escape the wolves, a bridge across the lava, a hammer to smash them out of the way – steadily pouring SP into the construct. Just as his SP started to flag, he felt the spell coalesce about him…and, immediately afterward, he felt the pattern of the spell shift uncomfortably before coalescing a second time.
