Chapter 130 - A Slight Adjustment (Patreon)

Zeke sat on the balcony, his eyes closed, and legs crossed. His mind was entirely occupied by the task before him, so much so that he barely even noticed the argument taking place below him. Not that it needed his attention, of course. Abby and Tucker had been at one another’s throats for the last couple of days, and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. The two just didn’t get along, and they took almost any opportunity to make that abundantly clear. If Abby said up, Tucker would say down. The two disagreed as a matter of course, and Zeke was way past caring. Either they would work out their differences, or they wouldn’t. If it was the former, everything could proceed the way he planned. If it ended up being the latter, they’d drop Tucker off the moment they reached civilization, and hope he didn’t hold a grudge.

The second option wasn’t really what Zeke wanted. He liked Tucker, and the man was incredibly useful to have around. However, the party’s continuing cohesion was far more important than keeping him around. And given the choice between the two, Zeke wouldn’t hesitate to pick Abby. Not only were they mired in an intimate relationship, but she’d been with him for almost two years, now. She’d earned the benefit of the doubt, even if she was so often the root of the problem. Usually, the bickering didn’t start until she made some snide comment about Tucker’s past or his participation in Talia’s transformation. Secretly, Zeke suspected that their animosity was more due to a personality clash than because of any real disagreements. Either way, though, it wasn’t his problem to solve; neither were the type to take that kind of criticism very well, and he knew them well enough to know that if he poked his nose into it, it would just make things that much worse. So, ever since Abby had returned from her quest, he’d left them to it, choosing instead to settle his focus elsewhere.

Most of each day was occupied with travel, but each morning, he put himself through the various drills Silas had given him, and in the evenings, he sparred with either Talia or Pudge. Sometimes, he fought both at the same time. However, because sleep wasn’t nearly as necessary as it had been back on Earth, he still had most of each night to himself. Admittedly, a good portion of that time was spent with Abby. Sometimes they just talked. Other times, they did…other things. But even with those “demands” on his time, Zeke still had a few hours left over which he used to pursue his studies in runecraft. Specifically, he focused on the alterations he wanted to make to [Mark of the Bear].

And it was far more difficult than he’d expected it to be, which, if he was honest with himself, he should have expected. After all, if it was so entirely unheard-of, it made sense that he’d have trouble with it. For all his talents, Zeke wasn’t a gifted scholar. He wasn’t really smarter than average, either. Not like Tucker. Or Abby. Or even Talia, whose upbringing gave her the benefit of a top-notch education, at least as far as such things went in the Radiant Isles. But Zeke? On Earth, he’d only ever looked at school as a means to an end, something he had to do so he could play baseball. So, mental pursuits definitely weren’t his forte.

Without the solitude of the troll caves, he’d have never even laid the foundation for his artisan path. And without the Framework’s quest reward, which had bridged the gap to the path itself, he probably would’ve squandered even that head start. So, forcing himself to study, especially when there were other demands on his time, wasn’t the easiest commitment for an action oriented man like Zeke.

Still, though – the draw of runecraft kept pulling him back in, night after night, moment after moment, until he found himself on the verge of a breakthrough. It wasn’t as simple as rewriting the glyphs that comprised the runes. That part was easy. Rather, the difficulty lay in balancing everything else out, from the power consumption to the connections to everything else. It was like the world’s most complicated circuit board, only half-understood, if that. One wrong move, and the entire skill would unravel, and he would lose it forever.

Reason told him that he should leave it be until he knew more, but Zeke had never really been the sort to back down. Not in the troll caves, when he should’ve found a way around the overwhelming odds set before him. Not with the drachnids, when he should’ve taken more time to plan and prepare, and not with the giants, when he should have looked for another way into Hvitgard. In all cases, he’d forged ahead, heedless of the danger and trusting that he could figure it out on the fly. Because that was fundamentally who he was.

So, he’d forged ahead, adapting until, finally, he thought he had a workable adjustment to the skill. However, now that he was on the precipice of implementing it, Zeke hesitated. What if it went wrong? What if he lost the skill? It wasn’t the most useful ability in his arsenal, but it had helped to take the edge of danger off of some of their battles. A few points of endurance or vitality weren’t going to be the difference between life and death, but they could make recovery much easier.

No - he couldn’t hesitate now. Not when he was so close. More, [Mark of the Bear] was the perfect skill on which to experiment. It wasn’t a vital part of his own survival. Nor could it save one of his friends. It was just extra. A convenience. Useful enough, but far from the game-changing skill he’d expected it to become. The only skill that might’ve fit the bill better for experimentation was [Heart of the Berserker], but even that had saved his life a few times. No – he’d chosen correctly. Now, he just had to go through with it.

Still, he sat there, motionless, with his mind poised over the skill’s rune. Doubt flooded his mind. Fear enveloped him. And he was forced to remember that, for all intents and purposes, he really was just a dumb brute whose usual response to any problem was to scream like a barbarian and launch himself at an enemy.

He wanted to be more, though. He needed to evolve just as the skill needed to. He was useful, now, but eventually, he’d need to become more than the combination of his stats. He’d already seen the limits of the person he currently was, and unless he forced himself to develop, he would never accomplish his goals. It was necessary, and not just for the skill’s usefulness.

So, Zeke took a long, deep breath and went to work. Wrangling that first glyph was like trying to wrestle with a greased noodle. It was all he could do to get a grip on it, much less force it to comply with his wishes. Even so, he felt the assistance of his artisan’s path giving him insight and fortifying his grip so that he could accomplish his task. Slowly, Zeke manhandled it into shape before moving on to the next one. And then the next. And the next after that.

Hours passed. He could feel the passage of time, but it didn’t touch him. Nor did the mundane needs of human existence affect him. He was exhausted. Hungry. Thirsty. The pressure on his bladder told him that he needed to go to the bathroom. He ignored all of it as the background noise that it had become. To Zeke, there was only the rune. It was his entire world; everything else was just unnecessary details.

Eventually, he completed the task he’d set for himself. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a workable adjustment to the skill. With that small alteration, it would function off his own stats, rather than the recipient of the mark. Because of his formidable endurance and vitality that far outstripped the stats of any of his other companions, the change would more than double the mark’s effectiveness.

But in his trance, he wanted more. He wanted to push further. And he was on the verge of peeking behind the curtain and seeing something truly enlightening. It had been there the whole time, lurking just beyond his mental horizon, waiting to be discovered. All Zeke had to do was keep going, to continue pushing the skill to its limits, and understanding would be within his grasp.

So, without hesitation, Zeke went on. The altered skill wasn’t entirely stable, but in his trance-like state, Zeke couldn’t imagine failure. More, even if he could have, it would have been meaningless. The rune – and his understanding – were all that mattered. So, he pushed forward with the second alteration he’d planned.

The problem was that, because he hadn’t intended to try it so soon, he hadn’t prepared nearly as extensively for it. Moreover, it was a far more complicated concept that hinged on adding glyphs rather than simply altering them. Luckily, Zeke had spent quite a lot of time studying the book of runes Abby had stolen from Callum Einar, so he felt at least somewhat prepared for the undertaking.

Zeroing in on the portion of the rune that governed the affected stats, Zeke slowly unraveled some of the connecting glyphs so that he could slot the new additions in. It was tedious work, and it required every ounce of his mental acuity, but eventually, he managed to make enough room for the alterations. Then, with focus bordering on obsession, he gradually drew the appropriate glyphs to expand the affected stats from endurance and vitality to include agility, dexterity, and strength as well.

As Zeke worked, time lost all meaning. To him, there were only the slightly glowing lines, and even those began to fade with his creeping fatigue. He could go for a long time without rest, but the need for constant concentration was beginning to take its toll. Soon, he’d lose his grip altogether, the glyphs would all fall apart, and the skill itself would soon follow. With mentally gritted teeth, Zeke forged ahead. He’d passed the point of no return. Either he would finish the adjustments, or he would lose the skill. There was nothing in between.

Verging on collapse, the glyphs began to vibrate, threatening to shake off his grip. He held fast, though, forcing one strand into place after another until, finally, everything snapped into place. It was balanced. Solid. It was a workable skill. With a mental sigh, he finally relaxed and tried to open his eyes. However, the task had taken its toll, and the moment he let his concentration wane, unconsciousness overtook him.

What felt like only a second later, his eyes fluttered open, and he awoke to see Abby hovering over him. Beyond her, he could see the ceiling of his suite, which he absently noted was vaulted and covered in a painted fresco depicting a series of interlocking, golden runes on a blue background. They looked stunningly familiar, but it took him a long moment to realize that they were two-dimensional representations of the runes that he’d used to alter his skill.

He tried to sit up, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him. Abby narrowed her eyes, saying, “Calm down. You’ve been out for almost a week. Just take it easy.”

“A…a week?” Zeke muttered.

“You were sitting on the balcony with your eyes closed for almost three days before that,” she explained. “Then, you just passed out. Tucker’s been feeding you some kind of potion to keep you from dying of hunger or thirst.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” she asked, pulling away. She crossed her arms, saying, “That’s all you have to say?”

“Uh…yeah?” he said, sitting up. It was much more difficult than he could’ve imagined, as if he was even weaker than he had been at his lowest point on Earth. “W-why am I so weak?”

“It’s the potion,” Abby explained. “It kind of put you into a hibernation. Or that’s what Tucker claimed. Something about using all of your stats to keep your body healthy. He said it’ll pass a couple of hours after you wake up. Now – do you care to tell me why you passed out? I was going out of my mind, trying to figure out what we needed to do. I almost threw you on Pudge’s back and started out toward Jariq.”

That’s when Zeke realized that he hadn’t told anyone that he was planning on making his attempt. In his defense, though, he hadn’t expected it to put him out of commission for almost ten days.

“I…I changed the skill,” he said. “I…um…I didn’t expect it to…you know. This. I didn’t expect this to happen.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Of course you didn’t,” she sighed. She sat on the bed next to him and patted his leg. “Only you would try something like this and expect there to be no consequences. Next time you decide to toy with the underlying fabric of our reality, let somebody know, okay? Like I said – I was worried sick.”

“I’m…you know…I’m sorry,” he conceded. “I should have warned you.”

“You definitely should have,” she said. “So – you said it worked? How so?”

“I’m not sure, exactly,” Zeke said. “The last bit, it’s kind of a blur. But…let me just check my notifications.”

Indeed, after making the first major alteration, Zeke’s memory became very spotty. So, he needed his notifications to tell him just how successful he had been.

Congratulations! The skill [Mark of the Bear] (H) has been forcefully evolved into [Avatar of the Beast] (F). When used upon an ally, it increases the recipient’s physical stats (Strength, Agility, Dexterity, Endurance, and Vitality) by 15% of the caster’s. Limited to two recipients before mana usage increases exponentially.

Zeke stared at the notification for a long moment, awestruck and uncomprehending. It was far more effective than he could’ve ever imagined. Not only had he changed the skill to work off of his stats as opposed to the recipients, but he’d also expanded it to include all physical stats. In addition, it had gotten stronger. However, those increases hadn’t come without a cost; being limited to two recipients was a bit annoying, but it was something Zeke could work with. And maybe, given his high wisdom, the mana drain of using it on three of his allies would be manageable.

“Yeah,” he said. “It…um…worked.”

He then explained the changes to Abby, who was suitably impressed. Once she’d had a few seconds to comprehend the explanation, she said, “Obviously, you’ll use it on Talia and Pudge. They’ll get the most out of it.”

“Nope,” Zeke said. “Using it on you. That’s non-negotiable.”

Of course, that sparked an argument. Abby’s contention was that she was always on the back lines, and on top of that, she wasn’t entirely dependent on physical stats. Talia and Pudge were frontline fighters, and as such, their prowess was closely tied to their physical statistics. Zeke understood the argument, but he didn’t care. Of all his companions, he cared the most about Abby’s well-being, and he wasn’t above putting her on a tier above everyone else. Sure, it was probably selfish, but he wouldn’t apologize for it.

Finally, Abby seemed to understand that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the argument, so she stormed off in a huff, saying something about letting him regain his strength. That gave Zeke an opportunity to look at the other notification he’d gotten.

Artisan Path – Runecraft has evolved from Novice (Mid) to (High)

Zeke drilled down into the description of his artisan’s path, seeing the following explanation:

Artisan Path: Runecraft – Novice (High) – You have begun to understand just how much you yet have to learn. Soon, you will glimpse the fabric of the Framework as it truly is. +25 Wis, +25 Int, +5% Wis, +5% Int.

Zeke stared at the description for a long moment as he tried to understand what it really meant. He failed, though the implication of the description excited him in a way he couldn’t really explain or comprehend. Suddenly, he wanted to know everything. He wanted to see the fabric it referenced, and he wanted to understand how it all tied together.

“One day,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe one day.”