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Chapter 160: A Coward and Some Ice
🕑 Added 2023-09-02 03:48:43 +0000 UTCChapter 160: A Coward and Some Ice
/Hey everyone and welcome back to this system sucks! Today’s topic? Getting mana affinities to stick.
Last time, we covered how to get an affinity on your mana, by throwing it through a conversion thingy. Somehow, that seems to fix things right up. Of course, it only took mages a whole fecking load of time to figure it all out, but we got our progress and nowadays you need none of the theory and all of the practice.
But let’s say you wanna specialize. Really get that mana settled in properly. Have the affinity stick around, no more sliding off, so you can turn your own pool of magic into your own pool of fire magic or what have you.
Now, we all know cores, be they from humans, monsters, or anything else, can ripen after death by being in a suitable environment. Usually, that happens via a little bit of interaction with the outside world. So, by consistently casting spells of a mana type, you can ever so slowly shift your mana affinity towards that.
Of course, that means you’re usually gonna end up worse with spells of a different affinity. Multi-element mages often split their mana pool by shaping their cores, sectioning it off.
“But why would it be such a big issue if just by casting you could reshape your mana?” I hear you asking. Well, buckle up, buttercup, because this just won’t cut it.
See, restructuring your mana by just using it a lot works. It does, it really does. If you have a couple hundred years to spare that is!
The progress is agonizingly slow. As in, you could have children and get your bloodline 5 generations down before properly affiniating your mana. Nah, that’s not gonna work, you want those fire spells for cheap and you want ‘em now.
So what do you turn? Buy the funny little Skill that automatically changes a part of your mana based on your own understanding and intention of what spells you’re gonna use? Nah, that stuff is way too expensive, who has 3k Skill points just chilling? No, no. We’re gonna have to go harder than that.
My friends, let me introduce you to this little itty bitty procedure called tempering. This is the willful exposure of your mana and often your body to the elements that make it up. To get lightning affinity, you zap yourself. To get fire affinity, you burn yourself. To get cold affinity, you spend days freezing.
Death, life, water, earth, space, time, you name it, you can get that affinity by subjecting yourself to mainly detrimental and horribly painful effects. Isn’t that just fun?
It sure should be, because you are essentially forcefully ripening your core before you die. Let me repeat that for the people in the back! Doing something that usually happens after death but you do it before dying! Because it’s fucking metal!
People get hurt when tempering, that is a simple fact of the matter. And I believe it is so stupid to risk so much for that little bit extra casting speed. And yet people keep doing it. I suppose you can consider me disappointed. As always, which is why this system sucks. See ya next time. Don’t croak./
Issue 13 of "This System Sucks!" by an anonymous author.
- - - - - -
Zyl broke out into a fit of coughing as the elixir went down his throat. It was like something exploded inside him a few seconds later, to Mercury’s magic senses. There was a huge blaze of mana in Zyl’s system, bits and pieces of it spreading out over his body, while most of the ethereal substance gathered around his heart.
The dragon coughed some more, droplets of blood flying from his mouth. With a wave of her hand, Irrithuriel froze them, preventing any stains on the sheets. Then, slowly, bit by bit, the mana dissolved into Zyl. Saturated his muscles and flesh, probably his very cells, to the point where he’d heal faster.
Mercury watched as his boyfriend slowly straightened his back again, breathing heavily, then laid back down on the bed. Zyl’s heart rate slowed again.
“That was gentler than a normal healing potion?” Mercury asked the snow witch.
“Oh, yes, quite,” the old dragon cackled. “Regular potions often forcibly pull the skin and muscles back together. They can be very, very draining on the body. That’s why they’re so often dangerous. Most people aren’t able to support them after lots of blood loss. Which is why often, they’re administered to people who’re already stable or taken ahead of time.”
“Well, it depends on the type of potion, of course,” she then added. “Some just replenish Hp in the eyes of the system, and then that Hp promotes your body to heal. Others heal slower, some have more magic to ease the burden on the body. Soft healing potions, ones that have almost no burden in exchange for lower healing powers, are very frequently favoured by seekers for use mid-combat.”
Mercury nodded along. Just like all things, alchemy was apparently also not very simple. Healing potions was just a general term for potions that healed, after all. The way in which they healed depended on the type of healing potion it was.
The one Zyl took, for example, would heal him slowly. Despite that, it would still be draining on him, but the potion had at least done enough for him to be lucid. After stacking a few pillows below the dragon, Zyl was in a half-sitting half-lying position. The dragon started to smirk a little.
“Seems familiar, huh, Mercury?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Sure does,” the mopaaw said with a slight smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Crappy,” Zyl replied with a chuckle, which soon turned into a cough. “My everything is hurting, and it feels like my heart is on a personal vendetta against me. But I’ll live.”
“The backlash usually wouldn’t be this severe,” Irrithuriel chimed in, addressing Mercury, “if your boyfriend didn’t decide to release full scale dragonfire on his fists.”
“Those were those bursts of plasma?”
“Burning air? Ah. Yes. Dragonfire will set even the air itself ablaze. Nothing can withstand it. And your idiot friend decided it was time to use his dragonfire after giving a spark away,” she chided, shaking her head and clicking her tongue.
“Now, get on nursing him to health, feed him some stew. I’ll busy myself preparing some more food. The lord guardian will be quite ravenous,” she added.
Mercury gave a quick nod, preparing another bowl with a liberal use of <Telekinesis>. He was already good at these sorts of small manipulations, but it didn’t quite work as hands did, since it was an acceleration force, so he was quite glad for the practice.
Not long after, he stood by Zyl’s bed again, the bowl placed on the bedside table as he levitated spoons of soup into the dragon’s mouth.
“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Zyl said between bites. “I can move my arms just fine.”
To demonstrate, he raised one of the limbs from under the blanket, with only a minor wince of pain.
Mercury shook his head at the antics, then shoved another spoon of food into the dragon. “Look, Zyl. I know you could eat by yourself. But you really shouldn’t. And also, I’m glad I get to take care of you once. Not that I want you to get hurt, though, but like… I guess it’s nice to be of help to you.” He gave a crooked smile. “So just lay down, relax, and focus on recovering.”
Any protests the dragon had lined up died in his throat. Instead, he just let out a long sigh, dropped the defenses, and plopped down onto the pillow. “Alright, Mercury. Thanks.”
Then he ate another bite of stew.
- - - - - -
Berthorn bit down on the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood. His mother was berating him. Berating.
It felt infuriating. As though it was his fault that his maniac of a brother suddenly showed up and caused havoc. Or that his maniac of a sister decided to throw someone at their father. Or that his maniac of a father destroyed the entire building. Or that his maniac of a mother was unable to stop any of it.
“You are completely useless!” Trinya screamed at him, her face still full of scales.
It was disgraceful. She had full control over her transformations, yet she so often let these kinds of things slip. Scales, her snout, even horns or claws occasionally. ‘Why?” Berthorn wondered often. Why would she reveal those draconic bits so easily?
He liked to think it was some sort of sick power-play. That it made her feel superior. That all dragons hid what they were to not aggravate anyone, to keep the peace, because they could not stomach the consequences. Perhaps she was bragging about her power.
Or, maybe, and this was his actual theory, she allowed it because she could sustain it. His mother was flawed in many ways, but the way she handled mana was unlike anyone else. The unbelievable ease and efficiency of it all were stunning each time he witnessed it. There were not many dragons able to sustain themselves in lower mana regions, yet his mother was one of them.
“Completely incompetent! What were you thinking?! The banquet is ruined, what about our family reputation?!” she yelled.
Berthorn remained silent. He hardly heard her. He was the “coward child”, she always liked to call him, even to his face, so it was only right he hid. Between a stone-faced exterior, he simply didn’t listen to her words.
Instead, he focused inwards. Dozens of Skills, acquired over dozens of years. So many of them so useful, others less so. His most prized possession was perhaps <Paranoia of a Coward>.
It was a Skill that he had taken very early and evolved multiple times before its current form. A simple little enhancement to his abilities, now diversified and incredibly useful. It warned him of danger, let him know a little bit of the future ahead of time, quite precisely. It let him think through countless things that may happen, and gave him intuition to guide him to the most probable things.
Such as the fact his mother was about to slap him.
Placing his feet down, he tipped his chair a little, leaning back quite far, and his mother’s hand passed through the air in front of him.
A long moment of silence rang out in the room.
Trinya stared at Berthorn, her eyes shaking. First, there was surprise, then disgust, then fear, then rage, maybe some of them mixed or all at once. Berthorn smiled, as his own mother looked at her own child with an expression of horror.
Her lips tilted into a frown, and she struck again, hitting him square in the face this time. He didn’t bother dodging. He felt no need to.
Berthorn saw her lips move, saw her speak, and another slap rocked his world. They were hard enough to snap his vision to the side, turn his sight a little blurry for a moment, and even have his thoughts grow hazy, but another Skill, <Vigilance>, cleared it up.
And through it all, a thin smile remained on Berthorn’s lips.
Another strike hit his face, but <Vigilance> kept his mind working just fine, even as his brain shook. It was the Skill he most used to suppress fear, the one that kept his “mind always working at optimal capacity”, according to the description.
Trinya slapped him again, even heavier this time, almost hard enough to take him off the chair. She was yelling.
None of it mattered to Berthorn. The weapon she was making had suddenly become a lot less threatening. Because Zyl was here to take it back.
There were very few people Berthorn respected. And usually, he only respected parts of people. For his mother, he respected her undying ferocity. And that was all he had to say on the woman. His father? The man’s dedication and power. That was all he had to say on the man.
For his brother though?
He was a different story.
Berthorn had looked up to Zyl, and he dove into those memories now, even as Trinya slapped him another time.
Long ago, when Zyl had not been a traitor, had not run away from his responsibilities, had not destroyed their home, had not fled. When his brother was still courageous.
Back then, before it all, before the animosity and the spite, Berthorn had really, really looked up to Zyl. To his brother’s courage, his wisdom, his kindness, his strength, his talent, his charisma, his loyalty, well, perceived loyalty anyways…
Suffice to say, Berthorn had looked up to Zyl. Really looked up to him. Idolized his brother, even, hid behind him like some kind of shadow. And then, one day, that huge silhouette vanished.
The coward child grit his teeth as another slap rained down. “You are a coward, Berthorn, a coward!” his mother yelled at him.
And Berthorn simply sat, and smiled. There was no threat in her words. Only ferocity. He admired that ferocity.
His mother’s anger was like that of a barking dog. It was loud, it was annoying, it was maybe a little aggravating. But he didn’t need to fear it.
Perhaps that was why Trinyakorie was so angry. Because despite her best efforts, her immense hunger for respect, for power, despite all of that, the biggest coward she knew… didn’t fear her.
- - - - - -
Days flitted by, and soon, half a page had passed. The potion’s effect somehow managed to sustain for multiple days, keeping Zyl mending. By the second, he was able to move easily again, by the third, he felt just as good as before the party, and from there, he healed more.
“Not enough to use dragonfire,” Irrithuriel added. “In fact, you really shouldn’t do that. For at least another season or two. And only that short because you’re recovering quickly.”
“I had help,” Zyl said with a smile.
Maclroy finally got the time to prove her worth, endlessly healing Zyl for a season straight. The amount of mana she had burned through was impressive, especially focusing it all on healing something that wasn’t really physical like Zyl’s inner flame? It was a more than impressive feat.
In fact, Irrithuriel asked where he’d even found someone so skilled at healing, but Zyl held his tongue.
“I promised not to tell, and I keep promises to my friends,” was all he said on the matter.
To be fair, Mercury was just as if not even more curious than the old lady, but he held his tongue. If Zyl didn’t want to say, he would respect it. Instead, he continued to explore the hut. There were a couple areas Irrithuriel declared off-limits, but not very many, so Mercury got to walk around quite a bit.
The place had a dozen rooms, with some of them having hidden parts as well. There was even an attic and a basement, both full of special plants or drying ones. The attic also had a family of real life squirrels, which lived in harmony with one of Irrithuriel’s carved ones, taking care of each other.
Mercury found it adorable to see the creature carved from wood and ice clean the fur and cuddle up with its furry friends, before resuming its tasks of tending to the grasses, but he was soon escorted out of the room since the plants up there needed a specific temperature and he was messing with it.
So, the mopaaw came back down, and practiced.
Given his current environment, though, and the presence of Irrithuriel, there was something very specific he focused on. He still had that ice-related core, after all, and now he was next to someone who seemed to be very, very skilled in manipulating ice. So, he decided to be forward about it.
“Can you teach me ice magic?” he asked the old dragon.
“Absolutely not,” the lady said and scoffed, before returning to her carving work.
“Why not?”
“Do you even know any elemental magic at all?”
“No.”
“Exactly. It’s gonna be a chore to teach a complete beginner. I don’t want to,” she said.
“I have lots of Skills that help with learning?” Mercury suggested.
“Look, Starlight. I appreciate your consideration. But I am old, and tired, and have no interest in explaining the most basic of spells to you. Help yourself to my library if you need to,” Irrithuriel answered, waving him off.
To be fair, it wasn’t exactly the most cruel denial. The woman’s library was huge, after all, the biggest room in the hut, even. And still, many of the bookshelves were also enchanted, fitting many more books than should be possible. Many of said books were also enchanted, fitting extra pages.
It was all a bit silly. Irrithuriel seemed almost obsessed with living in a “quaint little hut”, and still not giving up any luxury, so there were countless works of magic all over the place. Once Zyl was up, he even told Mercury that the wood and the lacquer used on the wood were specially made with alchemy to be conductive to enchantments.
Regardless, while Zyl was still recovering, Mercury used the free library access to study up on ice magic. He analysed the core, trying to understand what exactly made ice mana different from normal one, and figured it out after reading a little bit of “this system sucks”. For the introduction, at least.
The author made for good entertainment and a general description of how to get to affiliated mana, but they didn’t actually include any of the specific spell-patterns. Which left Mercury to figure them out.
Luckily, there were a few books Irrithuriel owned, each and every one on advanced spell theory, and none of them explaining the basic pattern. So, instead of just reading up on it, Mercury had to reverse engineer it from the mana inside his practice core. Which wasn’t quite as bad as it sounded.
Since the mana in there felt quite different from his own, he could pinpoint the differences, then convert his mana as he’d done before. He already made it into kinetic or heat energy, this was just that same manipulation on a much larger scale. But since he had the differences down, and knew the rough patterns of how to convert mana into a couple things, he only needed to go through trial and error.
A lot of trial and error, in fact.
After three whole days of practicing, though, Mercury finally managed to do it, and conjure his first drop of ice mana. He could store it like that, having granted the mana the affinity, but it wouldn’t stick of course. Bit by bit, it would leak back out, until it returned to being normal, unchanged mana.
Then again, did Mercury really want part of his mana to be permanently ice affinity? It would make any of his other spells less effective, such as using it for physical reinforcement as he’d been doing. So, he decided to just keep transforming more mana.
Instead of following the conventional path and just looking at a pattern, he had to reinvent those transformations by himself, only relying on his past experiments. Luckily, he had extra time to practice while he slept, giving him much more than the five days he should have had.
Slowly, he got better at making ice mana, and then trying to use it. To understand how spell patterns worked, he first cast <Revelation> on a bunch of very easy to understand things, instead focusing on how the spell forced his mana to move.
It was fascinating. Seeing the patterns it carved was like spell circles, but also so very different. Many of them were three dimensional, and mostly depended on execution of will rather than the actual patterns. It was like there was a stencil, but it didn’t need to be exact, because you were the one drawing anyway. But the stencil might help.
So, Mercury resumed his trial and error practice. He even felt his ihn’ar of <Water> help, given how it was seemingly adjacent to ice spells. Like some kind of guiding hand for intuition.
And by the end of the fifth day, he’d finally done it. He’d transformed a good 100 of his Mp into ice affinity mana, evaporated it, then forced the magical energy to take shape, and create something. It was an ice cube, clear and smooth, the kind you’d get put into a fancy cocktail.
But at the very least, it was progress.
[Acquired the Ability <Ice Magic lv. 1> through a specific action!]
Appy seemed to agree.
