Chapter Forty Five - 045
As the evening turned to true night and the Humans sparred within their bubble, Vvim watched.
Watched and waited.
The Old Ways were not forgotten, not by the Geist. The Tower was Vvim, and Vvim was the Tower. They stretched, their thoughts moving through the old structure like blood within a limb, focusing on the connection as they hadn't in Ages. Eyes of stone and metal, ears of wind and flame, Vvim could feel the Humans like ants upon their skin.
And the boy. The Nym Who Was Not.
Something about the boy irked his senses. What Vvim first recognized as the song of sorcery was but an echo in the child's movement. A...shadow that trailed behind. Vvim felt the rush of excitement fade away, resolving into the dim beat of realism.
He was no Sorcerer, he was barely Nym at all.
But how did he navigate the Tower? None should be in the Lower Annals. The Towers were attuned to the Geist. Lesser creatures were kept to the lower levels, like the Irontooth Apes or the Ofrenok. Yet somehow this strange child had moved through the Tower at will, acting on thoughts that he could not possess.
He knows so little, yet stares at things with such...hunger in his eyes. The hunger of the unlearned, perhaps, eager to be altered by the hum of knowledge. Vvim could feel him Analyzing everything he saw, sometimes repeatedly. What he found so interesting in stone walls and burning sticks, the Geist was unsure, but it intrigued them.
Indeed, Vvim could feel the flicker of discordance earlier as the boy listened to the Large One speak of betrayals and lies, an echo of the terrible promise the Geist felt before. To their delight, the boy responded with compassion when offered a choice between safety and sacrifice. As was only proper for even his diluted blood.
Perhaps he was more Nym than Vvim thought.The initial posting of this chapter occurred via Ñøv€l-B!n.
The Humans spoke on and Vvim grew concerned over the artifact they chased, for the Geist knew what it was. To meddle with such things was beyond arrogance; Vvim should know.
The Geist had lost so many already.
The ancient creature sank deeper within the Tower, their self poured into this task, their first in far too long. And so the night stretched onward.
And Vvim watched.
"UOUFFF!"
Felix smashed into the wall with a muffled thump, already used to the way the jellied air seemed to cushion both his body and the sound of impact. Groaning and sore, Felix rolled to his feet, pushing tiredly off a knee before dropping into what he referred to as his "battle stance."
"PFF," Harn laughed. "Stop doing that. It's not...just stop."
Felix dropped his fists and stood from his crouch, feeling a little embarrassed. They had been fighting for an hour, and it felt like an eternity. Harn had him use his fists, a sword, a dagger, even going so far as getting a heavy wooden stick from the fire pile to swing like a staff or club. What's more, the man wouldn't let Felix use any spells. His body was battered and bruised from the day, and the grizzled warrior wasn't gentle.
He's a monster.
Harn walked over to a set of waterskins that had been filled to bursting nearby. One of the side chambers had a functioning water basin, which was extremely strange to Felix but everyone else just took it as a lucky break. A lever on the back let out ice cold water, just like a sink back home. Felix couldn't figure out what made it work, and any inquiries came back with a raised eyebrow and a single word. "Magic."
Of course. What else? His only comfort was that he was half-certain none of them actually knew the right answer.
"What," Felix panted after a long drink. "What next? More fighting?"
Harn took a measured sip of his water and eyed Felix, noting his bare and bruised torso. "Ya up for more?" Felix straightened himself, hiding the grimace that tried to steal across his face, and nodded. Harn smiled.
"Good. A glutton fer punishment. That'll serve ya well, kid." Harn slapped him on the back, hard enough to send him stumbling forward several steps.
Armored Skin is level 18!
Harn followed right behind him, drawing one of his axes again. "Alright. So ya got a good foundation, and some solid stats seems like, especially fer yer level." Harn swung his axe in a set of looping slashes. "That's yer problem. Yer strong, but ya don't know what ta do with it."
"That seems right," Felix readily agreed. "I've been mostly flailing around during fights. It's worked out so far, but..."
"But ya can't rely on luck and stats forever. You got a balance Skill?" Harn asked.
"You saw that I've got Acrobatics. Does that count?"
Harn waggled his free hand. "It'll help. Focus on yer center, don't overextend. An also," he pulled a second axe, this one a dull gun-metal color and tossed it to Felix. "Use this."
Felix, in a panic that was a left-over from his previous life, immediately felt like was going to fumble the catch. When his hands smoothly caught the haft of the axe, he was almost surprised. Then he registered what Harn was saying.
"Use the axe? I don't have Axe Mastery. I thought I was supposed to be learning about the Skills I already have?" Felix protested. Harn just raised his silvery axe up while dropping his own body lower.
Felix hurriedly raised his axe. He knew what was coming next.
In an instant, the warrior was on top of him, swinging down with his wicked blade. Felix jerked his own axe wide, trying to knock the silver strike away, but only succeeded in opening himself up. Panicking, he flexed his legs and hopped back a solid three feet. The axe still came down only inches from his chest, whistling in the air as Harn maneuvered it effortlessly.
A second swing came. Felix hopped back again, this time the attack missing him by a foot, before he charged in with an overhand chop of his own. The first few times they fought, Felix had been worried he would hurt the man, but by this point Felix was more concerned his axe would break on the man's armor.
Which was stupid, since he missed by approximately a mile.
Felix tucked into a roll, intending to tumble past the warrior, a favored tactic against many beasts he'd fought. He managed the roll, but felt a blade burn a line down his back. As he came back to his feet, Felix gritted his teeth as the sharp pain faded to a dull burn thanks to his Pain Resistance. Harn stood casually, his axe held loosely in his grip and dripping a line of red.
Felix charged back in.
Blow after blow, chop, slice, swing, Felix tried everything he could to penetrate Harn's impossible defense. But the man was impervious to his attacks, moving his axe in a dizzying net of blocks and parries using the blade and haft. As a last ditch effort, Felix threw his weapon straight at the man's smirking face. Harn simply raised a hand and deflected the axe with his vambrace. It clattered to the ground the same time Felix did.
Good luck with that. Felix chuckled, but stopped when his ribs ached. Pain Resistance was exactly what it said on the tin, it seemed to numb or make pain more tolerable, but it didn't make it go away. If only, he sighed.
He sensed Pit was near the actual stairs. Not, of course, where Felix had descended. He still couldn't find that stairwell, and the lack annoyed him. The whole tower was a weird little mystery wrapped in the larger mystery of what the hell happened to this huge city. Harn didn't know, neither did the others, only saying it happened long ago. Evie referenced the Third Age, which sounds like a long time ago, but are Ages a hundred years? A thousand? What Age is it now?
Felix's thoughts ran in circle and he resolved to ask more pointed questions of the others, mentally adding the concept of time to his list of questions. List is getting pretty long.
Felix shook himself. He was losing focus. Might be more tired than I thought. Whatever. I'll sleep when I'm dead.
Mantle of the Long Night
A swirling gust of wind surrounded Felix, pushing outward a few feet before it terminated. The wind was chill, but not uncomfortable, and it never settled down, constantly rotating at low speed around him like a tiny, invisible hurricane.
This is cool. He rolled his eyes. Neat. It's like a personal air conditioner. No doubt it'd get stronger as it leveled, but it also didn't take up much Mana, only three or four points per second. At his current rate of regen, as long as Meditation was active, he could keep it up for a little over seven minutes. He left it on, and turned toward his other spells.
Reign of Vellus got the most use of his spells, and it had already reached Apprentice Tier. As such, he'd noticed it was harder to level than before, taking either more usage or more unique insights to move it along. Felix decided to focus on his lesser used spells, maybe amp up his firepower. Not to mention he might even complete that Apprentice Quest he had lingering.
Okay, so Acid Stream, Influence of the Wisp, and Stone Shaping are the closest to Tier, but my Sigils, Invocation, and Shadow Whip all need serious work. Cloudstep uses a lot of Mana and at least some Stamina, so I'll set that aside for now. Hmm.
Tottering to his feet, Felix made his way to the fire pile, retrieving a bundle of sticks from the remarkably large stack. He idly wondered if Harn had snuck out and chopped down a tree and the thought made him laugh. After a bit and some twine from their pack, he had produced three bundles of sticks that were his best attempt at targets.
Improvisation is level 5!
Mantle of the Long Night is level 2!
Huh, didn't expect that. Then, as he watched, the nearest bundle started to ever so slightly silver along the edges. When he touched a stick, it was frigid. Awesome.
Retracting his Mantle, Felix took several paces back from the impromptu targets and focused. He activated Shadow Whip and it shot forward from his left hand, smashing one of the targets down. He let the spell fade and frowned. I didn't mean to knock it over. How did I make it spread out? He cast again, this time acting on instinct and splaying his fingers out wide.
The Whip launched again, but the end of it fanned outward instead of staying a single solid whip-shape. The fanned out pieces of it easily engulfed and secured around the target. With a quick yank, the entire bundle flew back toward Felix, who caught it in delight.
Shadow Whip is level 14!
He returned the target.
Ok so I can control the shape of it. But how much? Felix cast again, this time trying to split the whip into two pieces after it had cast. There was a slight pressure behind his eyes, but then the spell did it; two wriggling tendrils of shadow writhed in time with each other, extended from the same hand. He tried to use both tendrils to simultaneously attack two targets at once...and failed spectacularly.
A sharp spike of pain lanced up his forehead. "AH shit!" He held his hand to his head before pulling it back, expecting blood. There was nothing. The pain had been inside his head. Oh that's probably not good. Maybe leave the dual targeting for higher levels.
Instead, Felix dual cast the spell, throwing two Shadow Whips at two separate targets. This time it went as expected. Both targets were ensnared as he splayed his fingers, and both were yanked back toward him with a casual tug.
Dual Casting is level 14!
And on it went. He gained two more levels in Shadow Whip, and Felix discovered two things about it in that time. One, he could split the whip into four tendrils for each casting, but no more; he also couldn't move them independently, and all four tendrils would strike the same target. The only benefit he saw there was that each tendril was a different angle of attack, so maybe it would be harder to defend against?
And two, it was definitely tacky to the touch, which must help bind it to the target. What Felix didn't understand was why this shadow spell was tacky while the passive shadow cloak skill Illia had possessed had remained stubbornly slick. It was something he kept returning to: If they're both made of shadow Mana, why are they different? What's the cause?
As he sat, recovering his Mana and pondering the nature of his spellwork, he let his mind wander to the Rockstrike from whom he'd taken the Skill. The thing was a shadow/earth elemental and used its own tendrils as partial locomotion and offense. It had definitely used its tendrils independently, as had all the others he'd fought in that cave. None had used the tendrils to bind him, though, instead focusing on whipping and blunt force trauma. Then why does mine? Did I get a variant?
Felix closed his eyes, focusing on the spell itself. Like all the rest, Shadow Whip was a lingering feeling in his core, a phantom limb that he knew would activate if he prodded it in just the right way. It was strange, really, but that was how all of his Skills worked. Felix could feel a faint network of pulsing lines throughout his flesh, his pathways, and echoed out among them were the elaborate designs he recognized as Stone Shaping and Manasight. But they all started in his center, he felt. His core, where a blue-white fire roiled and azure sparks crackled.
He homed in on Shadow Whip, teasing out the feel of its pattern. It undulated, like a wave, but it was compressed, turned in on itself in a recursive manner that was dizzying to follow. Felix lost the path quickly, despite his recall; it was less about memory and more about...something else. Something vague that he didn't have the words for. Not yet.
Opening his eyes felt like he was resurfacing from a deep sea dive, and there was a brief moment of disorientation where the world felt too loud, too bright. He could almost hear a ringing in his ears, like a feedback loop from a hot mic, which was ridiculous--
Felix stopped. He focused on the sound, a not-quite ringing that definitely did not shake the inner portions of his ear. No, the ringing was coming from inside the house. His core, specifically.
Fire Within is level 30!
What is...Felix traced it back to the undulating pattern for Shadow Whip. He knew sound had some place in the development of Skills, just as the imprint within his core channeled and defined them. Meditation worked by feeding back into itself, harmonizing with his stats to produce more of the same. So what was Shadow Whip doing?
Felix pushed again along the undulating trail of his spell, feeling that ringing become more of a buzz as he neared those ineffable lines. The patterns were drawn in Mana itself, and as he focused closer he could see pulses of blue-white light flaring along the lines of the Skill, followed closely by waves of grey-black shimmers. The buzz modulated, speeding up and slowing down as each blue-white pulse flared by, almost like a wave.
A grasping tide that surged and ebbed, each time grasping and pulling. Pushing away yet simultaneously never letting go.
Shadow Whip is level 17!
...
Shadow Whip is level 20!
Fire Within is level 31!
Fire Within is level 32!
Felix's eyes snapped open wide.
And he smiled.
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