MaeveMcCarthy
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Chapter 69
🕑 Added 2025-02-04 21:48:28 +0000 UTCMonica used Fire Transmutation to fuse together the Golden and the Obsidian Flame in front of her. Knowing that Dworsul would only be happy to see her set on fire, she just created a palm-sized globe of scorching hot flames.
"You have Mana Sense," Dworsul said gruffly.
It wasn't question.
Monica, keeping her eyes trained on the roiling sphere, gave a curt nod. “What about it?”
“Use it to feel the Mana in that flame. You’ve generated Fire Mana with whatever Skill you just used. And I can tell,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “this isn’t just some ordinary elemental Fire. It should be enough to kill you if you mishandle it.”
Monica was surprised by the heads-up. Was he trying to be nice?
"So, how much should I inhale at once?"
Dworsul looked at her like she was a madman but then smiled thinly.
"Try just half."
Monica activated Mana Sense and Meditation, slowly visualizing the currents of Fire Mana in front of her and focusing on controlling it and getting it closer and closer to her face.
She felt the scorching heat, but she didn't feel any pain. She wasn't burning up.
Could he be wrong? Monica wondered. My usual immunity…
As soon as she tried inhaling just a little wisp of the Fire Mana, everything went black.
*
She came back to life with a choked gasp, sprawled out on the ashen floor. Her body felt both numb and aching, as though she’d been violently crushed. A faint whimper escaped her lips before she forced herself upright. She had no idea what had just happened.
"Ten minutes to heal all that damage, interesting," Dworsul said, tapping a finger on the hammer at his side.
"What happened?!" Monica snapped, clenching her fists and looking angiryl at the Dwarf.
"I don't like overexplaining and intellectualizing things, miss Avatar. You asked such a stupid question that the best way to show you was with a little practical experiment. By doing this, I've also confirmed that you are, indeed, the Avatar of the Twin Phoenix. You would have stayed dead otherwise."
"Dworsul," Monica rose to her feet, looking dangerous now. "I respect your position—I respect your people. But do this again, and I will—"
"Kill me?" Dworsul laughed her threats off. "The Queen of Stone didn't scare me, Monica. Who are you to—"
Monica's Obsidian Flame flared all around her, and Dworsul took a step back.
"Tread carefully, Dworsul," Monica said, feeling the Obsidian Flame adding to the fuel of her rage. She had almost activated Fury of the Phoenix by how angry she was. "I can take harsh teachings, but I will not tolerate this idiocy. And if you were to risk any of my friends' lives—you would wish Nexa had killed you. You know who I am. You know what I'm capable of. Tread carefully."
Dworsul raised an eyebrow at her and then raised his hands.
"I might have taken things too far," the Dwarf begrudgingly admitted. "Now, let me explain why you died like a dog."
Monica felt another sharp pang of anger but let the man continue.
"The moment you let uncontrolled Fire Mana in you, it wrecked your body. The one you summoned is no ordinary fire, Avatar. You should have taken the smallest strand you possibly could and tried slowly circulating it through your body. Even then, it would have caused massive damage throughout your entire system—bones, organs, muscles, and veins. But you do have the means to heal yourself, and that's how you should have approached the problem."
"Is this how everyone else does it?" Monica frowned. "With a Healer by their side?"
Dworsul shook his head.
"Healers are handy when stupid youngsters are trying to learn the Fire Breathing Skill, but they're usually not needed other than for those who are practicing for the very first time and might overdo it."
"Then why do I need to heal myself? Why's the damage so bad?"
"My fellow Dwarves would have absorbed rivulets of Fire Mana that could have done nothing more than warm up their chest. You're trying to put a flame made of Divinity through you. No matter how little of it you take, it's too powerful. It might burn with the same heat of a normal flame, but its Mana will devastate your body whether you like it or not."
"You're saying that I'm too powerful?" Monica frowned, almost flattered.
"Dangerously incapable of controlling the output of your flames is how I'd put it, but sure, let's go with yours," Dworsul shrugged.
"Will I get the Fire Magic Skill this way?" Monica asked.
"Probably not," Dworsul reasoned, rolling his eyes upward as he was apparently used to do when thinking.
Monica noticed that while the man thought about it, he looked genuinely interested in the problem.
He is some kind of weird Scholar when it comes to Blacksmithing, I guess.
"The Fire Magic Skill should be entirely barred from you because of your patron's blessing—flames, resistance, and all that. What you should be able to get, however, could be even better. Fire Magic usually evolves into Fire Communion when it reaches Level 100. I would go out on a guess and say that, probably, that's what you'd get."
"Oh, is that good?"
"Good?" Dworsul smirked. "It would mean you have more talent for forging than any other Dwarves I've even met, Avatar. Good is a laughable understatement. "
"So, I could be good at forging."
"We'll see. One Skill means nothing in the broad profession of a Blacksmith. I've met many talents who picked up and leveled Fire Breathing fast but had no idea what they were doing. You'll just have to try your best, Avatar."
Monica took a long, calming breath and summoned another miniature orb of Fire Transmutation, this time so minuscule it barely covered her fingertips. Fusing Golden and Obsidian Flames into a single point, she peered through Mana Sense. Within that droplet of living fire, she saw countless swirling threads of Fire Mana.
She braced herself. “All right,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Let’s do this slowly.”
With Meditation guiding her breathing, she reached out with her Mana and coaxed the slightest wisp from the orb—so fine it looked like a single molten thread. It drifted toward her lips.
The instant it crossed the threshold of her mouth, her body convulsed in protest. She felt an unholy surge of heat drill straight into her lungs, as though she’d swallowed acid. Every fiber of her being shrieked that this was death.
But she held firm, mentally grappling the lethal spark and pushing it downward. She visualized the tiny lick of Fire Mana traveling into her ribcage. She tried to direct it along the path of her right arm, but it felt like guiding a living blade made of flame.
A wave of sheer agony ignited inside her chest. Through Mana Sense, she watched in horror as the Flame-Mana started to burn everything in its path. The edges of her ribs turned black, like wood caught in a flash fire. Muscles shriveled instantly, becoming brittle, and the reek of charred flesh filled her nostrils. Even her Golden Flame, which normally knitted wounds almost instantly, struggled to keep pace. Bits of newly healed tissue scorched away faster than they could regenerate.
Monica’s eyes flew open in a silent scream. Through a haze of tears, she saw that her right arm was trembling violently, the skin where the Fire Mana traveled went dark and cracked, the same consistence of charcoal. Blood sizzled as it tried to flow through blackened veins.
She fought to remain conscious, continuing to guide that minuscule thread of Fire Mana from her shoulder to her elbow and then toward her fingertips. The further it moved, the worse the pain grew—yet a savage, desperate determination burned in Monica’s mind. She wouldn’t let this damned flame break her. She forced each breath, feeling the Golden Flame do its best to stem the tide of destruction.
At last, the Fire Mana neared the end of her fingertips. She could barely keep her arm raised; it felt half-dead. With a shaky exhale, Monica pushed the Mana outward, letting it slip free into the open air. The sizzling current flickered once, then vanished.
The pain lingered only a moment longer, but the damage was catastrophic. The skin of her right arm had blackened patches that flaked away, revealing raw, bloody tissue beneath. Her chest burned with each gasp of air. Even the simplest breath tore at her wounded lungs.
Monica collapsed to the ground.
She summoned the Golden Flame in full force, letting it course over her chest and through her arm. Slowly, excruciatingly, she felt some relief as the healing fire began rebuilding the charred remnants of muscle and bone.
Then, she heard a notification ringing in her head.
