Reborn From the Cosmos

Arc 8-15

The more experienced casters around me speak of a magical sense that comes with experience and an inflated core. Rolly swears that if a being lives long enough with their element, they can gain the ability to manipulate it instinctively, at least in small ways. Something akin to a lesser pure affinity. I don’t know if I believe that, but Alana is working toward it diligently, so I keep my doubts to myself.

Kierra’s explanation makes more sense. She says that if you face the same magic enough, you can feel it, especially if it’s targeting you. She equates it to the way someone can feel a malicious stare, the hairs on the back of their neck rising before they’re aware of the reason. Or like the miraculous tales of soldiers moving their heads for no discernible reason, only to dodge an arrow that would have ended their lives. They get so close to death that they can feel when it's near. Her mother trained her so harshly that Kierra developed something similar for the null affinity, able to sense the ‘distortions in space’ whenever someone uses it near her.

Being both inexperienced and in possession of an unremarkable core, compared to the whole of casters, it’s ridiculously advanced given the short time I’ve spent diligently working to improve it, I don’t have such a convenient sixth sense. Therefore, I don’t know Morgene is behind me until she makes herself known by leaning against my back, hands pushing down on my shoulders as if to stop me from running away. It reminds me of my wife and how she used to drape herself over me at every opportunity, wanting to be as close as possible for as long as possible.

She doesn’t cling to me as much these days. I’m glad for it. Not that I don’t enjoy her being close, but it proves she’s growing stronger. It wouldn’t be wrong to say she needed to be around me. Now, whenever she seeks my company, it’s simply because she wants to.

I try to shrug off the violet elf, but she stubbornly clings to me. “What do you want?” I snap.

“That letter. You made an interesting expression when the boy handed it to you. What is it?”

“I can’t know until I look at it.”

“Then look.”

“Get off first. It’s none of your business.”

Surprisingly, she steps away, returning to her meal. She lifts the spit, carrying the whole hunk of gently smoking meat with her as she takes a seat. Bell eagerly follows, making herself comfortable in the elf’s lap as they share. I watch them suspiciously for a few moments before opening the envelope, finding a small, folded note inside.

You are humbly invited to the Golden Feathers for a luncheon with Marcella Guiness this coming Saintsday at twelfth bell to discuss matters of the city. Should it please you, please send a response to the hotel’s front desk, so that we may adequately prepare for your arrival.

Hm. Very short, very formal, with no hint of a personal connection. Is she putting distance between us? Or perhaps she is unsure of her standing with me and isn’t taking any chances? It’s hard to imagine but I think I’ve unnerved the shameless merchant. If so, it’s rather impressive that she’s chosen to face the fear of the creature that destroyed a whole city. Suppose she wouldn’t be where she is if she couldn’t be bold when the situation demands it.

Interesting that there’s no mention of Maxine. If she’s worried about our lacking personal connection, it’d make sense to include her younger sister, who I’ve known for longer. More competition? Or has the wayward merchant not returned from her ‘business trip’, whatever and wherever it is? I’m almost worried about her. It’s not hard to imagine her getting into trouble while trying to prove herself or something. She better not get herself hurt doing something stupid.

My eyes flick up to Morgene, happily enjoying the fruit of her efforts. Her usual grace has been tossed aside for more beastly behavior as she tears into the meat like it’s offended her.

…fine. I am worried about Maxine. She’s a friend. I don’t want her to be hurt and maybe I’d feel the tiniest bit guilty if she was because I know my comments pushed her toward this path. There. I’m not blind to my own feelings. I can acknowledge when I want to help someone.

That’s not what I feel for the people of Quest. Morgene doesn’t know what she’s talking about and I swear Orum is just poking at me to see what gets the biggest reaction.

But back to the invitation. If it’s Saintsday, that gives me four days. The generous forewarning despite the pressing nature of the circumstances bodes well; she wants me relaxed and comfortable.

I’m going, of course. Both out of necessity and curiosity; I’m very interested in what she makes of the situation and how she plans to profit from it. And I know she’ll be profiting. The only question is, does she see me as an obstacle to said profits or if am I part of her plan? I better not be. I’ve got nothing against the sisters but I’m thoroughly out of patience for plots.

“An invitation to lunch, is it.”

“SAINTS!” I shout as I suddenly hear Morgene’s voice over my shoulder. A hand goes to my heart as I stumble away from her. With my new senses, I am not used to anyone sneaking up on me. “Don’t do that.”

“Are you going?” she asks, her smile telling me how much she enjoyed spooking me.

“Yes, I am, and it’s not because I’m planning on swooping in, cape flying in the wind and a gallant light illuminating me. If a Guiness is making a move, odds are it’s going to be big. Besides, if we’re going to get out of the city, she’s our best bet for supplies. I’m sure we can rough it so well it could hardly be called rough but for anything else, we’re going to need the only merchant in the city willing to deal with us.”

“Hm.”

“Any problems?”

“Of course not. The comings and goings of the city have nothing to do with me. Take care not to push yourself too hard.”

I blink and she’s back on the chaise, snatching her snack away from Bell, to the imp’s displeasure. Saints, I swear my life has become a comedy.

Shaking my head, I go inside to find something productive to do. An easy task. There’s plenty to occupy my thoughts without my in-laws twisting them into knots.

I spend so much time in the study these days that my feet carry me there reflexively. For some reason, the thought fills me with distaste and I abandon the room, seeking out another place of peace. My search takes me back outside, to the roof. 

Lying on my back, gaze turned to the sky, I have the freedom of being somewhere without walls and the illusion of privacy. The combination of the slight chill in the air and the warm sun are enough to lull me to sleep but I cling to consciousness, purposely circulating my mana in the pattern Geneva taught me as my eyes drift shut.

Miraculously, nothing bothers me until I decide to open my eyes before sleep claims me. The sun is starting to set but dinner won’t be for a while. I jump off the roof, briefly marveling how I no longer bat an eye at doing things well beyond the realm of human capability. Who’d have thought that having the strength of a legend would become mundane? I suppose Orum was right. At a certain point, power loses value.

No, wait. Not going to think about that annoying elf.

Instead, I jog to a secluded corner of the estate, using my ears to make sure I’m completely alone before I start to practice. There’s so much of my power that needs to be honed that it all feels…overwhelming. When it comes to magic, the knowledge requirement alone to properly wield seven affinities is a mountain. A person spends a lifetime mastering one. Taking the first step on a journey that could last centuries, saints it could be a road that never ends, is daunting.

The cheat of using the succubi is just as daunting but in a different way; where the thought of proper study weighs on me, imagining those creatures putting their fingers in my mind invokes shudders. Allowing Geneva to assist with this body was already risky enough, something I allowed because the work was physical and I’m a natural shapeshifter. If she messed with my form in any way, I could simply abandon it and take the much safer, much lengthier route to strength through Kierra.

Shapeshifting is truly an ever-evolving skill of mine and yet it’s the one that I’m the most comfortable practicing. Not because it’s the easiest. Well, maybe the ease with which I can do it plays a part. But that’s important! Getting any kind of proficiency with magic can take years and that doesn’t take into account learning how to use it in combat. So what if I want to work on something that will give me results fast? It’s fine as long as I don’t completely abandon my magical studies, which I haven’t.

Though I need to formalize a schedule. I knew sitting down for a lecture when the mood struck me would be inefficient but it’s…bad. Asking for spells when I need them or picking interesting topics off hand is not the way to do it.

I also don’t think Geneva or Bell can be trusted to make it. Thinking about it, whenever I asked them to teach me something, they teach me just enough to follow the order, but the teaching is always hollow. For example, that ridiculously powerful spell that combines the fire and air affinity. I asked for a way to do damage with my magic. Saints know she gave me that, but I’ll be damned if I can explain why it was so effective or use any part of that spell in other magic.

At the time, I appreciated the abbreviated explanation, seeing nothing other than a servant obeying orders. Now, after seeing some of her wider manipulations, I think her brevity was calculated. I forgot for a while there; succubi are a resource, never the solution.

Ideally…I would have masters from the Hall construct curriculums for each of my affinities and then use the succubi to improve them. That’d raise a lot of attention but at this point, that really isn’t a concern. Was Morgene right? Was I too quick to acquiesce to the Hall’s dismissal? I can’t force them to cooperate with me…except I can.

I can but that would be shitty and that alone is holding me back from bludgeoning them with ultimatums.

Abyss take it. Does that annoying woman have a point?

Am I…ugh…pretending at being a hero? Shackling myself to some vague notions of right and wrong? Being considerate for, what? Guilt? Hope?

I reluctantly contemplate such thoughts as I focus on shapeshifting. Not my usual rapid jumping between forms. My bout with Orum has inspired me; namely, I want to get better at using smaller transformations to better effect. He also made a good point that I don’t understand these forms. When I think of the leviathan arm, I think big, fleshy stick smash little people and that works on the idiots I’ve had to contend with. Not because it’s that impressive or they’re that weak, but because I took them by surprise.

Eventually, my secrets are going to be widespread. People are going to see what I can do and devise strategies against me. When that time comes, I need to be able to outthink them, out maneuver them. Raw strength can only take someone so far. Very far, apparently, but there be dragons in our futures. Beings with my same potential that have wielded it for centuries. Beings powerful enough to shatter a continent.

I don’t think a sculpted body or a bit of fire is going to impress them.