Chapter 32 - Tier Two (Patreon)

The morning was unusually cold. I wondered if it was a lingering effect of the briarwraith’s presence. As usual, I drifted toward the back of the group and spent time practicing my abilities. I was happy to see my progress in summoning a fully formed Forge Echo of my weapon had lingered. I could now call it up with near physical-like properties. The skill’s description made me believe it would only mirror my movements. Instead, it was like an independently controllable version of my weapon that floated in space.

I wondered how far I could take it with enough practice. Could I summon a massive duplicate of my weapon, large enough to smash houses? Or could I make it stronger by sharpening it with my mind? Or maybe I could echo a simple blade and set it spinning through the air fast enough to slice enemies to ribbons. The possibilities seemed endless, unless there were limitations I hadn’t run into yet.

I spent a little while making an echo of my mace. I’d been wearing the thing at my hip since leaving Riverwell and hardly had any use for it. Maybe some ability to echo it would make it a little more than an ornament for my belt loop.

I couldn’t quite get the ethereal version of my mace to spin with much speed, though. It moved jerkily and unpredictably. After experimenting, I decided the Alchemist’s Kit was still my best focus for the ability. Maybe I could return to trying martial weapons again if the skill became stronger. 

I also experimented with meditation. I’d heard enough to assume there were different techniques of meditation, and I was determined to find some on my own. I had my simple method of waiting for peace, which worked well for rapid recovery.

But I gradually found I could also mentally pull the mana into my body. The catch was the mana I pulled in felt more wild and restless, and it seemed to squirm out of me within seconds. I worked on trying to contain the more wild mana, finding that it seemed to widen my inner channels as I held the mana, temporarily increasing my ability to push more mana out with my abilities. 

For simplicity's sake, I thought of mana gathered this way as “wild” mana. Wild mana had an impact on my abilities. For Elemental Projection, the poison came out of me in sputtering gushes, sometimes spraying with more power and volume than usual, rather than the steady, predictable fashion I was used to. For Forge Echo, it was almost impossible. My echo was constantly flickering in and out of existence, immediately spilling the contents of the spectral bottle the first time it flicked out of view. 

What other methods were there? And could I perfect these methods, leaning into their strengths but reducing the drawbacks?

Thankfully, my constant practice with abilities meant I had plenty of time to experiment when I meditated, too. 

I wondered how much of my quick learning was because of the mana manipulation I maintained from my previous life. Probably almost all of it. Everything I’d seen and heard made me think I should have been struggling to use my first ability, not making progress on fine-tuning and improving it. 

By midday, I’d also gained more ground in projecting the liquid from my fingertip. Instead of producing a drop, I sprayed a thin line that reached a few feet before arcing to the ground. Curious, I tried holding out two fingers and seeing if I could duplicate the stream, splitting the mana in two directions.

Less poison emerged, but two small beams sprayed out from my middle finger and my forefinger.

I jumped in surprise when my helmet suddenly pinged with a notification.

[Skill Tier Increased. Elemental Projection has reached (Tier 2)]

Excited, I immediately stuck out my fingers and tried using it again. I was rewarded with a thicker beam of poison than I’d been able to spray at any point. It had gone from a single finger’s width to maybe two, spraying much farther than before. I thought I even felt a faintly increased awareness of the poison—as if I could still feel it after it left my body.

I didn’t know if I could exploit it yet, but I planned to explore that and learn more. 

“How’d you do that?” Lyria asked. She had been talking with Minara but broke off and came to where I was behind the group. We had stopped in a clearing by a stream, and the others were preparing to stop for the evening. 

We slowly walked over to the running stream, sitting with our feet in the water. The gurgling current and distant chirp of birds made the moment feel almost nice. I just had to forget about the terrifying things in this forest.

“I hit tier two with Elemental Projection,” I said. 

“Already?” she asked. She shook her head in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong. Tier two is nothing to throw parades over. Plenty of people get there by the end of Wood. A lot of them even get some abilities to Tier 3. But wow. I won’t lie. I’m jealous. Do you think you can teach me to recover my mana like you? If I could, maybe I could train more and keep up.”

“Sure. I could try.” I attempted to explain the methods I’d found to work, including my new, fuzzy understanding of wild mana. I remembered how Circa said it was best to find your own methods, but I figured Lyria wouldn’t have asked me if she had any luck in that regard. 

I watched her sit with her eyes closed, face serious. The sun slipped through the canopy of thick trees, occasionally highlighting fiery orange strands of her short red hair. She had tried the method for gathering wild mana and quickly grew frustrated. Apparently, she couldn’t even begin to pull the mana in like I was describing. 

Now, she was attempting the peaceful approach but was wearing a deep frown.

I couldn’t help grinning. “Um,” I said. “If I could make one suggestion?”

She opened her eyes, brows furrowed as she nodded. “What is it?”

“You look like you’re trying to wrestle the idea of peace into submission. I think the point is to let it come. Invite it inside your mind; don’t pull it in by the throat. Does that make sense?”

“No… If it won’t come, then I’ve got to drag it in because it’s being a stubborn little shit.”

I was glad she couldn’t see my face through the helmet. I doubted she would appreciate seeing me amused by her frustration. “Right, well, just give it a try. Open yourself up to peace and wait for it. Don’t go running after it. Just wait.”

We carried on in this way for half an hour. I heard Perch and Kass explain they were going to scout around, hoping to catch some fresh meat for dinner. I hoped they found something. My jaw was still sore from chewing so many dried rations already.

I did my best to coach Lyria based on my own experience in meditation, but it was pretty clear we had a different ability to feel mana. From my perspective, I could almost sense the mana moving around me like wind. I could feel it with my hands and feel it against my skin. Lyria’s perception of it was far more theoretical. No matter what words I used to explain it, she seemed unable to feel it or interact with it in any meaningful way.

She got defensive at one point and explained it was normal for a Wood, and said the way I was talking was more like how she expected a Silver to experience mana.

“Alright,” she said. “That’s enough peaceful bullshit for now.” She shivered as if trying to be calm for so long had pissed her off.

I laughed. “You’re right. Who would want something crazy like a peaceful mind?”

“Any tips on my movement ability?” she asked. I could tell from the soft tone of her voice that she hated having to ask me.

“The one you said should make you able to move faster, right? The thing that has been helping me is visualizing. I’m not sure if I have a proper understanding of what’s going on, but the more confident I feel in how I picture it, the better the abilities seem to work. So maybe you could create an image of how you think it would work. Like… picture the mana in front of you and imagine connecting strings from your body to it. Then imagine it pulling you along. Or imagine it behind you like thousands of little bugs pushing you forward.”

She frowned. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe. But if stupid works, then it’s worth a try.”

She looked thoughtful, then sighed and nodded. “Later. My head hurts from all this nonsense already.” She frowned. “Thank you, though. I appreciate you trying to teach me.”

I nodded. I hadn’t minded. Back in my old life, I had always enjoyed it when we had new recruits on the ambulance. Teaching them the ropes was always helpful for me, too. It reminded me of things I had forgotten or forced me to organize my thoughts on things I hadn’t stopped to examine because they’d become so routine. I also liked the challenge of trying to help somebody understand difficult concepts. 

I picked up a smooth stone and chucked it into the river. “So you’re still planning to stick with me after Thrask?” I asked. The question had been on my mind since everything with the briarwraith. I wanted to tell her about my vision of the gods and the crystal court, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. The idea of the gods being so terrified of a threat to do something as drastic as a “prestige mode” wasn’t a comfortable thought. I had enough information before to suspect the gods were afraid of something. But now I had seen and felt that fear. The vision was a reminder that something out there was coming, and whatever it was had been terrible enough to frighten nine gods into dabbling with unknown powers—powers that had Seraphel fearing for their sanity. 

“I want to reach Iron,” Lyria said. “I thought it would take me years before you showed up. With the way you seem to attract danger, I think you’re the fastest ticket.”

“That makes much more sense than what you told me back in Riverwell. Back there, you made it sound like you were worried about me getting killed if you didn’t come along.”

“Oh, I am. I’ll admit you’re not quite as useless as I thought. But I’m pretty sure you still need me. Besides, with the way you find danger, I’m pretty sure I’ll reach Iron in record time by sticking with you.”

“Well, it probably bears repeating: I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Don’t worry,” Lyria said. She smiled a little. “It’s pretty obvious. But you have to be working with some kind of plan, right?”

“I mean, sort of. I’ll go to Thrask and turn in my tokens. Maybe I’ll find somebody who can help me learn to craft more than just this rot poison and a potion of refreshment. I’d really like to, uh,” I lowered my voice, “pick up a second class corestone. I want to find an illusionist to make my helmet less conspicuous if I can afford it. And I’d love to see if I can buy any upgrades to my personal space. Some kind of training room would be amazing.”

She laughed. “Is that all? It sounds like you’ll be in the city for weeks.”

“It shouldn’t take so long. I’ll be efficient with my time.”

Lyria nodded, glancing Minara’s way. She was healing a minor cut one of the little girls had suffered while trying to balance on an overturned log behind us. 

Did that woman have some kind of enhanced hearing, or was I just being paranoid? I guessed there was nothing wrong with a little paranoia, so long as it didn’t drive me to isolation. I’d always be in Circa’s debt for finding me and warning me to be careful early in my journey. From how she described it, I had to assume anybody could be an agent of Ithariel–just waiting for me to slip up and reveal myself. 

Of course, Circa’s warnings and ideas about Ithariel didn’t fully align with my vision. In my vision, it sounded like Seraphel was on the brink of telling the other gods about his discovery of prestige mode. If that’s what happened, the gods were doing this to work together against some threat. But Circa seemed to think Ithariel had moved as soon as the others disappeared and wiped out their divine houses.

Several very large puzzle pieces weren’t clicking into place. But I couldn’t say what had changed or happened after my vision. I didn’t even know how long Seraphel had waited to activate prestige mode after that vision. It could’ve been hundreds of years, or it could’ve been minutes.

“What happens after Thrask?” Lyria asked, stirring me from my thoughts.

I cleared my throat. “Well,” I said. “I was thinking I might still want to sign up for the adventurer’s guild. I know Circa was against it, but it seems like one of the best ways to keep myself working towards leveling up. It would also immediately get me… you know,” I said.

She folded her arms. “If you join, I’m joining.”

“Really?” I asked.

Lyria shrugged. “I’m hitched to your wagon for now. And I have to admit, I used to want to be an adventurer when I was a little girl.”

“But then you took an arrow to the knee?” I asked, stupid grin on my face–even though she couldn’t see it through my helmet.

“What? No… Then my dad—well…” Lyria trailed off with a sigh.

I waited. It seemed like a sensitive subject, and I didn’t want to press her on it.

She worked her lips to the side and kicked around some dead leaves. I saw Kass pushing aside leaves in an area a little ways off. It looked like they decided it would be our campsite for the evening.

“He always had this thing,” Lyria said. “My dad was a crafter, and my mom was an adventurer. They met because he was always working on her gear for her. She’d go out on some adventure, get dinged up, and trash her gear. Then she’d spend a few days in town flirting while he worked on her stuff. Once, he told me he used to turn a job that should’ve taken an afternoon into a week-long project. He thought he was pulling one over on her, but my mom told me she knew exactly what he was doing.” Lyria wore a distant smile as she told the story, but it soured once she stopped.

“Something happened to her?” I guessed.

Lyria nodded. “It was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill dungeon clear. Mom had a regular group of about thirty she’d been running with for years. They only ever took on safe jobs. It’s pretty normal for adventurers with families,” she added as if remembering I wouldn’t know that. “The low-level sections of the dungeon were already mapped and the biggest threats were confirmed deeper in. Nobody could say why they didn’t survive, but none of them ever came out.”

“Just a freak accident?” I guessed.

Lyria shook her head. “I’ve spent years wondering. A Forsaken sneaking in, hoping to collect some easy mana from low rank adventurers, maybe. A counterfeit map leading people into a robber’s trap. Or maybe the dungeon shifted on them, opening up a hidden passageway and letting out something far more powerful than they were ready for.”

My stomach went cold. It sounded eerily similar to what we’d experienced in the ruins. I felt a fresh wave of sadness on her behalf. I couldn’t even imagine how much harder the experience had to have been for her. She probably felt like she got a gruesome window into the past—a glimpse into the terror her mom must have felt in her final moments. 

“I was eleven when it happened,” she said. “After that, my dad cut off all the training my mom had me doing. He wanted me to learn to be a smith, like him. Of course, I snuck off and trained on my own, anyway. He hammered it into me any chance he got, though. Adventuring is irresponsible and dangerous. I won’t have a daughter of mine getting herself killed in some fucking cave.”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” I said.

Lyria brushed off my apology, face going stiff. It reminded me of how she’d reacted after we faced the infestation. Apparently, she was the type to bottle things up and pretend she didn’t feel them. I couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t exactly like things were moving slowly enough to stop and grieve right now. 

“Anyway,” she said, “Dad found out I was still secretly training when I was fifteen. He was furious, of course. But he decided if he couldn’t talk me out of training, he’d push me to do something safer. Like being a guard. We fought about it all the time, but he thought if I could just reach Iron, we could move into one of the cities, and I’d get a cushy, safe job guarding merchant stalls. Maybe I could even guard the area near his shop.”

I waited. Her dad wasn’t with us in this group, and she hadn’t mentioned family in Riverwell. This wasn’t a story with a happy ending. 

Lyria rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “Gods,” she said, laughing. “Nobody cares, Lyria,” she muttered as if to herself. “Sorry, I—”

“I care,” I offered. “Where is he now? Your dad, I mean.”

“In the ground somewhere, rotting. Infestation grew out of control near our town. They came at night, and the town guard was too drunk and poorly trained to deal with it. Only a handful of us made it out alive. He died getting me over the walls. I… I saw the fear in his eyes. I’d never seen him scared before, but I saw it right as they were pulling him away from me.” She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. “So I thought maybe I could become a guard after all. Maybe I could do a good job of it so the people who counted on the guards could sleep soundly at night. Now look at us. Running…”

“Maybe the answer is being one of the people who goes out and stops the infestations from getting to that point,” I suggested. “I won’t pretend to know how things work, but it seems backward to hide behind the walls and cross your fingers the bad guys don’t come knocking.”

“Yeah, it works in the inner circles, closer to the capital. Adventurers take commissions and clear it out. But we were a frontier town like Riverwell. You can’t always count on strong adventurers coming to places like that.”

The conversation was another reminder of how dangerous this place was. Maybe it was a good reminder. Every time I started getting excited about my training or the prospect of exploring, I was at risk of forgetting how easily I could die out here. Enjoy the journey, but respect the risk. Maybe that was a mantra I could get in the habit of remembering. 

“So,” she said, standing straighter and seeming to force her tone to something more upbeat. “It sounds like you’ll have us joining the adventurer’s guild. Great. Like I said. I’m in.”

“Speaking of that,” I said. “I’m getting close to level 50. I’m still unclear on how to advance to Iron once I reach that point. Do you—” 

“Close to 50?” Lyria said, laughing a little. “I don’t think level 20 something is knocking on the door, Brynn.”

“Actually… I’m level 40 now,” I said, speaking very quietly. I didn’t want anyone to overhear, considering I shouldn’t know I’d leveled, as far as they were concerned.   

“Wait, what?” Lyria whispered. “Level 40?”

We slowed, keeping a large distance between the others as they worked on setting up camp. I still kept my voice low. “Uh, yeah. I kinda got full credit for headbutting that briarwraith into oblivion. I don’t think I actually killed it though. It’s like it malfunctioned.”

“Malfunctioned? What does that mean?”

I waved my hand, realizing the word probably was gibberish to her. I still had no idea if my mind was translating everything for me and making me speak perfect Erosian. If it did, I wondered what happened if I used a word that didn’t exist here. “It had something to do with… his memories. Somehow, that briarwraith had one of them. I think they normally suck up memories and take them somewhere.”

“Wait,” she said. “It had one of his? How is that possible? I thought they were erased?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I just know…” I glanced toward the others. “I’ll have to wait until we’re alone to tell you the rest.”

She looked like she wanted to ask, but dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “Alright.” She leaned close, mouth close to my helmet. “Did you get an accomplishment?”

“Epic weapon token,” I said, trying not to sound too smug.

“Shut up.” Lyria punched my arm.

I laughed, rubbing the spot. “I’m serious.”

“Gods… just when I’m starting to think you’re not so bad, you have to go and get spoiled. Again. It’s really rather insufferable. Do you realize that?”

I decided it was probably best not to tell her about the additional two epic tokens I’d earned. She could find that out when we reached Thrask. 

“I’ll need all the help I can get,” I said with a shrug. “So… How do I push to Iron when the time is right?”

“I’m not an advancement expert,” she said. “I figured I had a few years before I needed to learn about it. It’s a bit of a guarded secret. There are natural methods, supposedly, but I don’t know them. Jarn was Iron, but he got an ascension token from the capital when they assigned him to Riverwell.”

“Don’t those hinder you somehow?”

“I’m not sure. Some people argue it’s all about how you advance, like Circa said. But I don’t know if there’s an actual problem with using them or if they are just talking about privileged nobles who get handed ascension tokens like candy. Personally, I think the belief just comes because people without tokens wind up stuck at level 50 for ages, which gives them time to improve the abilities they have and evolve their corestones. Somebody who was a level 50 Wood for years will likely be stronger than somebody who got handed an ascension token as soon as they hit 50, right?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” I said. “Though I’m inclined to believe whatever Circa said about advancement. She had no reason to lie to us.”

“True. Anyway, with how you never stop training and practicing, I’d guess you’ll figure it out, one way or another.”

Her mention of training reminded me of what I’d been focused on before she approached. “I’m hoping I can get my Forge Echo ability to tier two now. I want to see what that does. But how the hell do I raise my passives? I think I’ve only seen Chain trigger once or twice. And I haven’t even been hit with anything elemental to need my Elemental Body’s resistance boost, other than your shield back in Riverwell. But I can’t say if Circa’s magic was helping me there or my passive. Hey…” I said, raising a finger in thought. “Would you be willing to smash me every once in a while?”

Lyria leaned forward, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“You can make elements on your shield. If you smash me with them from time to time, it’ll help push my Elemental Body skill up.”

“I can only do it two or three times a day, Brynn. And I’d rather save my mana for emergencies. Poison is an element, though,” she said offhandedly. “You could always splash yourself with your little potions.” Her tone said she was joking, but her face paled when she noticed my excited posture. “I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

“Awesome. Thanks, Lyria!”

“You should… never mind,” Lyria sighed.