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Chapter 19: Practice makes perfect
🕑 Added 2024-04-05 09:18:03 +0000 UTCRylan wanted nothing more than to immediately start trying to overcharge his Skill, but he decided to temper his excitement and see what Ethereon had to say about his Mana Shell first.
“Ethereon,” he whispered, careful not to wake his sleeping companions. “Please show me my Status Window.”
Status
Mana
Pool: 10.3/11
Shell: 0.9/1
Attributes
Strength 2
Dexterity 3
Endurance 2
Mind 1
Perception 3
Charisma -1
Skills
Knife-Throwing, Rank 1
Quint Structures
Mana Core, Tier I
Mana Pool, Tier I
Mana Shell, Tier I
Quintessence: 20
Apparently, his Mana Shell could only hold a single unit of mana. That didn’t sound like much, considering the size of his Mana Pool. Which had expanded, actually, because he’d put a point in Mind!
Was he thinking a bit faster too? Actually, would he even be able to tell if he was? It’s not like he’d ever timed his thoughts...
Anyway, back to his Mana Shell. A single point of mana really didn’t sound like much. Could it perhaps be upgraded as well? “Ethereon, please show me my Quint Structures Window.”
Quint Structures
Installed
Mana Core, Tier I
Mana Pool, Tier I
Mana Shell, Tier I
Available
Mana Core Tier Up (1000 Q)
Mana Pool Tier Up (1000 Q)
Mana Shell Tier Up (100 Q)
Quintessence: 20
Apparently, upgrading it was indeed an option. Rylan could tell from the information Ethereon whispered into his spirit that tiering up his Mana Shell would increase its mana capacity by 1.
Of course, he’d first need to get his hands on a lot of Quintessence, somehow. After yesterday, the concept of hunting Malequints seemed a lot less enticing. Actually, why’d he get the first 100 Credits? Did Ethereon gift him those for becoming a Quinthar, or for gaining a Skill?
He'd have to remember to ask Soren or Tamina later. I wonder how strong their Mana Shells are...
Either way, his Mana Shell’s capacity should to be enough for his current purposes, as catching the knife by the blade had only cost a tenth of a point—probably not coincidentally the exact amount of mana his Skill used. As long as he kept his Mane Shell topped up, he should be safe to keep practising, even if he did manage to overcharge his Skill a little.
Measuring the quantities of mana he used was still difficult, so he pushed it out of his pool little by little and kept an eye on his Status as it dispersed, until the counter for his Mana Shell ticked back up to full.
Immediately thereafter, Rylan lifted his letter opener and activated his Skill. As before, a short, swift stream of mana erupted from his pool without any direct guidance from him, moved through his body, and finally lit up his blade with a dim glow before tapering out.
However, he didn’t toss the letter opener yet. Instead, he started to manually push another stream of mana from his pool towards the blade, much like he had when he used the fog condenser and pan before.
Without the assistance of his Skill, the mana moved sluggishly, and he kept having to wrangle it away from his skin. Unfortunately, as he focused on directing his mana, he quickly found himself neglecting his Skill, causing it to sputter out. As the mana he was pushing towards the blade now had nowhere to go, he ended up letting it disperse.
Perhaps he’d been a bit hasty with refilling his Mana Shell.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried again.
It took a few more attempts before he managed to multitask well enough. Directing a stream of mana up his arm still required close to all of his concentration, but he managed to keep a corner of his mind focused on waving his arm around and keeping his Skill active at the same time.
He opened his eyes again as the additional mana finally reached the blade. His knife didn’t quite suck in his mana like the cloudmetal had, but his Skill still readily accepted it. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but he kept going, feeding more of his mana into the blade. As he did, the glow of the blade he was still waving around slowly started to brighten.
The question now became, how much could his Skill hold? Soren had said not to overdo it, but how much was too much?
Rylan really needed to get a feeling for how much mana he was handling. Thankfully, he had a reference: the counter for his Mana Pool on his Status Window.
He kept a careful watch for his Mana Pool to tick down from 10.2 to 10.1 points of mana, which would signify he’d overcharged his Skill with a full 0.1 points of mana. The moment it did, he tossed the blade up into a spin.
It didn’t move differently through the air, but it seemed to have a little more weight somehow as the handle smacked into the palm of his hand.
The glow around the blade faded. He activated his Skill again.
At first, he kept overcharging it with only 0.1 points of mana, but as his Skill didn’t seem strained at all, he decided to push on a little, continuing even after the first tick. Still his blade eagerly drank up all of the mana.
Its glow brightened further as it did, and the handle landed in his hand with more and more force. In fact, by the time he reached 0.2 points of mana, his Mana Shell started to react, seeming to lose trace amounts of charge with every catch.
He pushed on, drawing greater and greater amounts of mana from his pool, and when he got to the point he was pushing in a full 0.3 units of mana each time, he started to feel his Skill start to push back, rejecting the mana he kept forcing into his blade.
But he wasn’t satisfied. The final goal was to get it to accept a full unit of mana, after all, and he wanted to get a feeling for where his limit lay at the moment.
At 0.4 points of added mana, the glow around his letter opener was about as bright as a candle, and also started to flicker like one. It landed in his hand like the heft of a hammer.
At 0.5 points of added mana, the flickering grew more intense as mana leaked from the edges. The Skill itself, deep in his chest, seemed to be starting to strain as well. It felt unpleasant, kinda like the bones in his hand rubbing together upon receiving a handshake that was too firm.
It didn’t hurt, however, and it was providing him with a much better sense of his Skill than he’d ever had before, so he grit his teeth and pushed on.
As he approached 0.6 points of mana, the glow on his blade started emitting a high-pitched ominous hum, before his Skill finally gave out, and the mana suddenly dispersed like the air gushing from the gasbladder of a filleted fogfish.
He wanted to try again, but a persistent ache from the centre of his chest made him reconsider. What sealed the deal, was the realisation that the warm well of his Mana Pool was disturbingly empty.
Blinking, he turned back to his status window, only to find that it contained about a mere 0.2 units of mana still. His Mana Shell had also taken a beating under the repeated catching of his overcharged Skill, and was now only half filled.
If he had managed to push in 0.6 and ended up taking the blade on his hand, that might not have been enough...
With a sigh, Rylan sat back. Perhaps he had overdone it a little, but he’d taken it very slow, and the ache in his chest felt not unlike that of a well-used muscle, so he wasn’t too worried.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as he spotted something moving from the corner of his eye. Something in his neck cracked as he snapped his head to the side, his eyes widening at the dark silhouette that approached through the fog.
Rylan’s heart sank as he recognised the stretched-out creature as a mist-eel, a creature with a reputation for unprovoked aggression and fierce territoriality.
He grasped the handle of his boning knife and quietly drew it as he slowly got up, cursing himself for tiring out his Skill and emptying out his Mana Pool. Fog, even his Mana Shell wasn’t entirely full!
While the creature drifted closer, moving sinuously down the middle of the gorge, Rylan considered his options.
The mist-eel hadn’t shown any signs of aggression yet, but there was no doubt it was aware of Rylan’s presence, considering his glowband. Should he call out and wake his companions now, or wait to see if it would just pass by?
The mist-eel was close enough now for Rylan to see its pitch-black eyes, so he could tell when it turned to look at him, stopping its sinuous motions but still drifting along in the fog.
Rylan swallowed. For a moment, everything was utterly quiet, as they stared at each other. Slowly, the mist-eel coiled up, and Rylan muttered a curse, falling into a ready stance.
No time to wake his companions now. If the fogging thing managed to bite him, his screams would do the job anyway.
Then, from the distance, came a roar, followed by a flare of blue light.
The mist-eel flinched, and turned its head. Rylan twitched, considering taking the opening, but was dissuaded by the pain in his chest. The mist-eel glanced back, then uncoiled and swiftly turned around, swimming back the way it came.
Rylan sank down against the wall behind him, his legs trembling, and his heart beating in his throat.
Note to self: don’t tire out my Skill or use up all of my mana down in the cloudsea.
Still, despite the close call, he was pleased about the progress he’d made with his Skill, and in fact, about how productive his morning had been in general.
By the time he’d calmed down, orange morning light that had started to filter down through the fog from above, and he suspected his companions would be waking up soon.
Well, he supposed there was one more thing he could do to prepare for their departure, and maybe assuage his guilt for almost failing to properly protect them on his watch.
As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly.
Rylan sighed, but started digging in the backpack. Part of him balked at the idea of ever serving a Thistlethorn food again, but it wasn’t like Soren could cook for himself, the spoiled clodpoll. Besides, it would help them get moving faster.
He kept things simple, taking out some dried rice, mushrooms, and mistweed. He didn’t bother trying to ration the food too much, as there was clearly plenty to eat in this part of the cloudsea.
Near Thistlebloom, the pickings had been slim due to the constant scouring by the people living there and their cattle, but here there was fresh seafood just floating around, waiting to get grabbed. Rylan was almost tempted to go out looking for some, but he reckoned he’d better stick to his post.
So he made a simple meal, adding a precise amount of water and pushing out just enough mana to boil the dried rice and vegetables until they were at least semi-palatable.
Either due to the dim light filtering down from above or the smell of the food, his two companions soon started to stir, and one by one got up to join him.
Neither of them looked particularly well-rested. Soren had thick bags beneath his eyes, and Tamina’s previously pristine braid had hairs sticking out under odd angles.
Rylan dug out some bamboo chopsticks, and the three of them gathered around to eat straight out of the pan.
Soren was eating slowly, his face not expressing a great deal of enjoyment about the bland food, while Tamina ate with all the expression of a stone statue.
If he’d been in a lesser mood, Rylan might have taken offense. “I didn’t have a lot to work with,” he said, shrugging apologetically. “But we can probably get some fresh stuff for lunch. Maybe some crab! I know Helen hates it, but you like crab, right Soren?”
As much as Rylan detested cooking, he was a little excited to try preparing some of the things he’d seen the day before. Mostly because actually getting to eat the interesting new foods he’d be preparing made the dull chore seem a lot more worthwhile.
Soren smiled politely at him, and Tamina grunted. Neither said a word.
“Well, either way, it’ll be better than this,” Rylan continued. “I didn’t bring any herbs, but if there’s one thing I learned in the kitchen, it’s that you can’t beat fresh ingredients for flavour. Ooh, I think I glimpsed some scallops yesterday! It’s been a long time since I—”
“Will you shut up about food?!” Tamina shouted suddenly, her head snapping up and her blazing green eyes fixing on him. “We are lost in the fogging cloudsea and you’re planning our lunch; what is wrong with you?!”
Rylan frowned at her, his chipper mood evaporating like a skycloud under the relentless heat of the sun. “We still have to eat, don’t we?” he replied curtly. “You know, I didn’t have to cook for you, but I haven’t heard a word of thanks either.”
“Thank you?” she repeated incredulously, her voice rising as she continued. “You want me to thank you for making me breakfast, after you got us stranded here in the first place?!”
Rylan’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?!”
“You heard me,” Tamina bit out. “It was your gullbrained plan to run off into the cloudsea—in the dark no less—that got us stuck here. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be sleeping in a real fogging bed right now!”
“What, so you blame the victim?” Rylan asked heatedly. “Do you have any idea how the Thistlethorns were treating me?!”
Soren frowned, shifting uncomfortably.
Tamina sneered. “You mean how they took you in an provided you with food and shelter? Boo-fogging-hoo.”
“Sure,” Rylan replied through gritted teeth. “And then they put a deepmetal, Cube-powered anklet on me to stop me from leaving, and proceeded to work me to the bone to pay back every single penny they spent on me, including for the anklet.”
Tamina’s expression finally changed, and she glanced at Soren.
“Look, it’s not-it’s not like that,” Soren protested. “My family was just trying to protect you!”
“From what, life?!”
“No, from yourself! And for good reason, I might add!” he added, gesturing at their surroundings.
“Well then they did a great fogging job,” Rylan shouted, throwing his chopsticks into the pan as he leaped to his feet, blood rushing to his face. “And you too! If you hadn’t fogged me over and told your family about my plans to go live with the Deeptides, none of this would’ve happened!”
“Oh, so it’s now my fault that their contract was ended?” Soren protested as he scrambled to his feet as well. “My family would’ve found out you were planning to leave with them eventually! Or what, were you planning to leave without even saying goodbye to anyone?!”
“I wish I had! Or that I’d been smart enough not to let you in on my plans a second time!”
“Your plans?” Soren repeated, incredulous, gesticulating wildly. “A non-Quinthar running away through the cloudsea is not a plan! It’s attempted suicide, which I’d hope would be clear by now!”
“Then you should’ve helped me come up with a better plan, you absolute clodmonger!” Rylan yelled.
“I tried that, you wouldn’t listen to me!”
“What, you mean your suggestion to go talk to your family about my debt?” Rylan asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sure. Great plan. I’m sure they would’ve agreed to just drop the whole thing if I’d only asked nicely.”
“Well you never tried, did you?!” Soren shouted, poking Rylan in the chest with a finger, the way Miss Amberleaf liked to do. “You decided my family were the villains, and then you shut us out! Even me!”
“Don’t fogging touch me!” Rylan snarled, shoving Soren away.
Soren stumbled back a pace, then immediately bounced forward, getting in Rylan’s face. “Oh you don’t like hearing that, huh? Don’t like hearing about how you dropped me like a hot coal?!”
A red haze clouded Rylan’s mind, rendering him short of words. So he drew back his fist.
Author's note:
Thanks for reading! ^^
Comments
H.C. Mills
Yeah, I much prefer the smaller numbers. ^^ I actually started out with a base of ten at first, so the requirements for Knife-Throwing would have been 13 13 and 10. But then I thought, what's the point of that 10? It adds no information, just makes the numbers bigger, and therefore the impact of any changes smaller. ^^
Ondřej Hanzálek
I appreciate, that your system is using small numbers. I dislike how many systems are using bigger numbers, which quickly inflate up into nonsensical insane big numbers. I also like, that you are keeping concept of real life like litrpg, where game system is only helper.
