Chapter 49: Like A New Teenager (Patreon)

Zed was standing in front of Festus’ door. It had been over two weeks since he’d last seen the mage, so when Ivan told him to hurry on over to the force mage’s house after their training session which was more of Zed getting his ass handed to him, Zed could only imagine what the hurry was about.

He knocked on the door once, his gaze moving around, taking in the night town. There were no signs of life save the little flickers of light streaming out of some house windows. The way it looked currently, rundown and empty, reminded him that the world really had gone to ruins but humans had been more than adamant to keep on living.

The ambient mana in front of Festus’ door trembled slightly before there was the clicking sound of a released bolt and it opened inwards. Festus stood in front of Zed a moment after, staring up at him with his patient face.

“Is yu’. Goo’,” Festus muttered with a touch of excitement. “Coh’ in.”

“I see you’ve been hitting the runes a lot again,” Zed grinned, stepping into the house. “You should lay off some of it, though. You sound like a toddler.”

He was barely at the door when Festus’ expression changed. The air shifted heavily and Zed felt something against his neck.

· [Festus] has cast spell [Force grip] on you.

· You have insufficient [Strenght] to resist.

· Spell [Force grip] takes effect.

Zed felt the hold around his neck tighten then pull down. His head shot downwards and into Festus’ open hand. Festus’ grip was like having a metal rod wrapped around his neck.

“I sti’ mage,” Festus said without a smile. “Rune may’ me confuse, buh’ I sti’ mage.”

Zed struggled to nod in his grip and Festus released him. Zed fell to his knees, gasping for air.

“Insy’,” Festus said, then walked into the house.

Zed pulled himself up with the door handle before entering and closing the door behind him.

Inside the house was as much a mess as he remembered it, this time with more papers and new squiggles. Most of them looked similar, like countless failed drawings in search of the perfect one.

“Ivan said you wanted to see me urgently,” Zed said as he walked in. “But he didn’t say what it was about.”

“Becuh’ I not tel’ ‘im,” Festus said.

He got to the end of the room and turned to Zed, grinning.

“Yu’ sit there,” he continued, “an’ I sho’ yu’ som’in.”

It had been a while but Zed had listened to addled Festus enough times to understand what he was saying without having to think too much about it. Without question, he lowered himself to the ground, not bothering to seek out a chair, and sat casually on the paper filled floor.

“I sho’ yu’,” Festus said, “An’ yu’ luk. Buh’ yu’ not try undistan’. Gud?”

Zed understood what Festus was saying. It was one thing to see a rune, to look at it, but it was another thing to understand it. Seeing a rune was like looking at a painting at a glance. It was easy to do and anyone could do it. Understanding a rune, however, was different. It was like stopping to stare at the painting, to commit it to memory. This was harder for most mages than others, and impossible for those who weren’t mages. If someone who wasn’t a mage tried to understand a rune, they’d get a headache and a nose bleed without getting anywhere. And if for some reason they had enough willpower to not be dissuaded by these signs that told them to stop, they were liable to go comatose or turn into vegetables. At least, that’s what Festus had told him.

So the creation of a rune followed three steps. The first was seeing the rune which everyone could do. The second was understanding the rune, committing it to memory, which any mage could if they tried hard enough. And the third was recreating the rune, which was the most difficult.

“Gud?” Festus repeated.

Zed nodded.

“Good,” he said.

“I don’ wan’ yu’ blee’ over flor,” Festus explained. “I jus’ had it clean.”

Zed looked around the room with a flat expression. The mess of papers and squiggles and unfinished meals stared back at him. His lips scrunched up in disagreement but he nodded in response.

“I see.”

Festus ignored the sarcasm in his voice and held out his hands, low and in front of him. He placed them just above waist level, fingers splayed out like a pianist at a concert. He took in a deep breath and began.

When his fingers moved, Zed’s mouth fell.

Festus’ face squeezed in concentration as the man’s fingers weaved signs in the air. They created curves and loops so tiny it should’ve been the work of a needle not the tips of an old man’s fingers. Each loop was intricate and beautiful, each line nigh perfect and controlled, purposeful.

Festus’ fingers weaved the runes together, and where runes only showed mana while being created and only glowed when they were activated, Festus’ work glowed a soft orange even as he created it, eyes squinting through focused, narrowed lids. Zed watched the work of art and it seemed to go on forever until Festus brought it to an end, linking both works to a single hand with a soft glowing curved line Zed knew was called a linking sigil.

It was something he already knew how to do, designed to connect runes to form compound runes or advanced runes, even wards. But considering he didn’t have enough runes to go making combinations, he never used it.

Festus let out a heavy breath, his concentration softening. In his left hand, moving softly like an introverted choir master, was a wool-thin length of runes so interwoven with each other that it was almost impossible to differentiate them. Zed could almost see a rune he recognized inside the weavings.

“Not understan’!” Festus barked, breaking Zed from his visual inquiry.

Zed raised the back of his hand to his nose and felt the warmth of his blood. He hadn’t even attempted to understand whatever it was Festus had created, he’d only wanted to know if the rune he saw was correct.

Whatever Festus had created, he’d been wrong about what would’ve happened if Zed tried to understand it. A nose bleed would’ve been the least of his worries from Zed.

“So what is it?” Zed asked.

“Is sup’ose to be binding rune,” Festus answered.

Zed cocked a quizzical brow. “A binding rune?”

Festus nodded.

“Like a linking sigil used to link basic runes to create a compound rune?” Zed asked.

“Yes.”

Zed thought about it for a moment. Sigils were basically the lines that turned to curves and symbols that made up a rune. They were the basic foundation of all basic runes, from what Festus had taught him. When two or more runes were needed to be linked together to create a more complex outcome, they were held together by the linking sigil. Thus, more than one rune being linked was called a compound rune, and enough compound runes linked together by linking sigils were called a ward. As such, wards were impossible without a linking sigil. The more complex the ward the more linking sigils were needed.

So far Zed had the basic foundation of how to cast a linking sigil but didn’t have enough runes to link together or enough willpower required to hold one long enough to cast a compound rune. The last time he’d tried, trying to link a force rune and a shield rune together using a linking sigil, he’d developed a head splitting migraine that had brought him to his knees, and a notification had literally warned him that he didn’t have enough ‘Wil’ to create what he wanted to cast. On the plus side it had added an extra point to ‘Wil’ for his struggles.

“So,” he said slowly, “if a linking sigil helps create compound runes and wards…”

The length of tiny woven runes continued to undulate in Festus’ moving hand, his smile spread wider, as Zed spoke.

“…Then,” Zed continued slowly, unsure. “A binding rune is supposed to be able to… link two or more wards together?”

Festus nodded, proving he still needed a level of concentration to keep the binding rune in his hand functional. Zed could only imagine how many linking sigils and runes had gone into creating it.

How many rune variations does that thing even have? He wondered.

“But you said that’s what it’s supposed to be,” Zed carried on. “So I take it you’ve not finished it.”

Festus nodded.

“Then what can it do for now?” Zed asked.

Festus looked around, the binding rune writhing in his hold like an uncomfortable worm. After a moment of looking, he stopped and raised a finger. His face squeezed as he focused again, then he whipped his hand about and the binding rune flew from his grip. Its ends snapped out, stretching it in different directions.

One end stuck to a piece of paper on the floor, the scribbles on it glowing softly, while the other end stuck to one of the walls. It was like watching an elastic rubber band as it retracted, snapping the paper into the wall.

Zed scrambled to his feet at the suddenness of everything happening too quickly and looked between Festus and the wall.

“Was it supposed to do that?” he asked.

Festus nodded, still smiling. Zed had never seen Festus so happy before, even though whatever he was creating wasn’t yet complete.

Zed walked up to the wall where the binding rune had drawn the paper into it and found that small section of the wall was white with scribbles on it. Zed cocked his head to one side as he studied it. The rest of the wall was a soft blue and the only sign of the paper was in the white color that wasn’t white enough and the scribbles that were a navy blue where they had once been black.

“Trippy,” he commented. Then he turned back to Festus. “I take it you haven’t figured out how to undo this outcome.”

Festus shook his head but his smile never left his face.

“And once this is complete,” Zed continued. “You’ll be able to bind wards together to create new outcomes.”

Festus nodded. “I bind wards toge’er an’ make scrip’s,” he said. “Shiel’ ward an’ Sen’ry ward make… I no’ kno’. Buh’ mana ward an’ shiel’ ward make infi… ifni… infni—foreva’ shiel’ scrip’.”

Festus was grinning despite his losing battle with the English language. Zed doubted that was how the combination was going to end up working, though. If anything, he had a feeling the results might be more catastrophic. And even if the results were not, and they did create something useful, he had a feeling an infinite shield script was impossible. They were more likely to get something along the lines of a script that protected the user from ambient mana or something. He wasn’t sure, but he had a strong feeling that no amount of magic would lead to the creation of something infinite. On nothing more than principle, he refused to believe reality was willing to bend that far for magic.

“Not to step on any toes,” Zed said cautiously. “But why me?”

“Wah?”

“You’ve created something no less than amazing,” Zed explained. “And you called me to come and look at it.”

Festus shrugged, displaying a surprising level of awkwardness. “Yu’ only mage undistan’ fine of rune,” he said. “Other mages no’ undistan’.”

“Am I the first to see it?” Zed asked, feeling honored.

Festus nodded.

Zed smiled softly. “So I’m your first.”

Festus’ embarrassed posture fell. He slapped a hand to his forehead and ran it down his face.

“Get out of my house,” he said flatly.

Zed chuckled as he reached for the door knob. “That was perfect English, you know. At this rate I’m beginning to think you’re faking the whole language thing.”

He knew it would annoy Festus and hurried out as he felt the air bristle with Festus’ annoyance. Unlike other people in the town, Zed knew Festus wouldn’t harm him. The door handle shook in Zed’s grip but the door didn’t budge. Zed looked up too late to find the rune-ward on the door.

Oh, yea, he thought belatedly as force aura wrapped around his neck, he has to deactivate it first.

· [Festus] has cast spellform [Force grip] on you.

· You have insufficient Strength to resist.

· Spellform [Force grip] takes effect.

Me and my big mouth, Zed thought a moment before he shot backwards and away from the door.

……………………………………………….

Zed stepped out of Oliver’s shower, breathing in the sweet smell of nothing. Whatever soap Oliver used didn’t leave much of a smell behind after being used, and when he’d asked Oliver about it, the answer had been simple.

“It’s organic,” Oliver had said.

Zed had enough memories to understand what organic was. He’d also spent enough times around town and listening to Cindy talk as she practiced her braiding skills on his hair to be glad the soap had no smell at all since it was organic.

Regardless, he sucked in a deeper breath. At least he no longer smelled of blood and monster insides. When he’d come back from the monster hunt Ivan had sent him on, alone, he’d carried with him the stains and smell of his adventure. The only plus side was that none of the blood that had been on him was his. It was the first monster he had fought were he hadn’t used his regenerative attribute, or any of his attributes at all. A few runespells, or repeated runespells to be more accurate, and a few axe swings and he was returning home with a boost in Exp and a mana stone.

He pulled up his personal information, taking a quick glance at it as he dried his hair with a towel.

Melchizedek Nyborn.

· Specie: Human (Mana blessed).

· Category: 1/3.

· Rank: Beta (category 1).

· Exp to category 2: 1708/2500.

Skills

· None.

Titles

· None.

Attributes

· [Equilibrium] (Physical, mana).

· [Regeneration] (Physical, mana).

· [Hypersensitivity] (Physical, mana).

· [Bone density] (Physical)

Affiliations

· None.

Aptitude

· Strength: 36(+5).

· Agility: 27(+4).

· Speed: 24(+4).

· Mana: 51(+21).

· Will: 21(-5)(+6).

· You have 0 Unallocated [Aptitude points]

· [Aptitude points] will be gained at each category.

· You will gain 5 [Aptitude points] for each rise in category.

· You have 1 pending Quest.

Zed glanced through what he saw, smiling to himself. He was growing well enough but he didn’t like how slow it felt. It had been well over a month since he’d met the others and a small part of him had hoped at this point he would’ve been a category two. Even though Ash and the others had once told him category growth took time, he didn’t care.

His mind flickered back to his helplessness in the presence of an Olympian and he knew he needed to get stronger faster. At his current growth rate, he’d be in category two in two months and category three in four. Which meant it would take him half a year to make it to Rukh rank. Thinking about it that way made it feel faster than he’d thought.

Zed knew the second awakening had happened at least three years ago, maybe more—he knew Oliver had mentioned it once but couldn’t remember—and Jason was just a category three Rukh. At his current speed he’d catch up to Jason in a year. That was if everything went according to plan, which he doubted things would.

Thus, if he wanted strength that wasn’t entirely dependent on his category, he needed to increase his range. Just as a competent mage had access to a variety of spellforms, he needed to have access to an arsenal of runes.

Zed rubbed his neck as he thought of asking Festus to teach him more runes.

“I know you just got back from a monster hunt,” Oliver said, standing at the door to his room, “but you sure are taking your sweet time. You and Ash got into the shower at the same time and she’s already set to go.”

Oliver was wearing a clean white long sleeve t-shirt that accentuated his chest and biceps. He’d drawn up the sleeves so that they stopped halfway up his forearm and he wore a faded blue jean finished with brown hiking boots. He was dressed too casually for a gathering the likes of which had been explained to Zed.

“Remind me why I’m tagging along, again?” he asked Oliver.

“Because you took something important to an important person and you have to give it back,” Oliver said.

“And I can’t do that by proxy?”

“No, Red,” Ash said flatly, appearing behind her brother. “It’s rude and disrespectful.”

She was dressed quite similarly to Oliver in a white top she tossed one of Oliver’s college football jackets over and cargo pants worn over boots. She wore her hair down and had styled it in a way that gave it a bounce when she moved.

Zed cocked a brow at her, giving her a questioning look.

“Can you at least pretend you care enough to respect my privacy,” he said, gesturing at himself. “I’ve only got underwear on.”

Ash snorted. “I’ve seen you in less.”

Despite her words, she at least had the decency to leave.

“Is she going in that?” Zed asked Oliver.

“What’s wrong with what she’s wearing?”

“I can understand you going in something so casual, but isn’t this like a gala or something. Aren’t the guests supposed to be well dressed and comported? You’re a guy so your lack of decorum isn’t surprising even if I know you should get yourself a nice suit and—there are no nice suits around anymore, are there?”

Oliver chuckled.

“Sometimes you’re slow, Zed,” he said, still chuckling. “Then other times you pick right back up. Like a new teenager.”