TravelingDreamer
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B4–Chapter 6: Between Fire and Forgiveness
🕑 Added 2024-10-02 09:28:44 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note
Hi everyone,
Thank you all for your well wishes and care.
After leaving the shelter, we had a quiet night, and I hope this will hold since today is the Jewish New Year.
T.D.
___________
When I added the crystal from the final guardian of the beef dungeon to my inventory, it appeared in the Small Mana Crystals slot. Taking it out and looking at it again, I was in total disagreement. It was the size of an apricot! Small? How big is the Big Mana Crystal if the system considers this thing small? Sadly, Mahya and Al didn’t have an answer. When I asked, she lifted both hands, palms up, and gave a quick shrug, her expression between confusion and indifference. Al shrugged and said, “I believe we will eventually find out.”
They were no help sometimes. Experienced my ass!
I had no answers on the crystals for now, so I turned to what I could control—barbecue. For the next two days, I barbecued and smoked beef, emptying a small storage ring. Rue was in heaven, constantly stealing steaks from the grill. I expected the steaks to be tough since I hadn’t aged the meat, but they were tender and packed with mana. The only meat that could compete with their mana content was the snakes from Tuonela, which, sadly, we were out of.
Whenever Rue stole a steak, he exclaimed, “Yummy mana!”
At least it lifted his mood, which had plummeted recently due to the lack of levels from the scraglins. While Rue was happily occupied, Al approached me with a list in hand, tapping the paper with his fingers. “Can you ask your core to give you ingots and pieces of these materials?” he requested, holding the list out toward me.
Gravnor
Lumarith
Drakan
Zacron
Krynsen
Mytherel
Valkor
_______
Velathin
Nurex
Evarn
_______
Fylaron
Thergwon
“What are those things?” I asked, glancing at the list.
“The top seven are metals, the three in the middle are types of rubber or plastic, and the bottom two resemble wood, but I suspect they’re manufactured,” Al explained, tapping the list again.
I shrugged and said to the house. “Give me ingots or pieces of the following...” I read the list out loud.
Nothing happened. We exchanged a glance, and I repeated the request. Still, nothing happened. Al raised an eyebrow, and I could only shrug again.
“I am beginning to suspect that your core is a greedy hoarder,” Al said, his voice half-joking but serious enough to make me think.
“Nah,” I shook my head, dismissing the idea. “I think the problem is that I have no idea what this stuff is.”
“Oh! Yes. Possible.”
He took out a bunch of broken and twisted items, holding them out in front of me. “Identify them. Maybe it will help,” he suggested, his eyes darting between the pieces and me expectantly.
Broken Zacron Pipe
Damaged Nurex Wheel
...
Rotten Fylaron Frame
After identifying the stuff, my core still didn’t deliver. Annoying core!
The next thing I tried was studying the materials. Except for Zacron, which turned out to be the stubborn one, all the other metals bent with little to medium effort. The rubber-like substances were more durable than what I was used to from Earth and didn’t catch fire. The wood—or semi-wood—crumbled under the slightest pressure. I wasn’t sure if I was too strong, or if the stuff had turned into junk after years of exposure to the elements.
Thankfully, my “getting to know” the materials gave me enough familiarity for my core to finally deliver, and Al got his lumps and ingots. Before he could disappear into his laboratory, I called out, “Did you finish the antivenom potions?”
“Almost,” he replied, pausing mid-step. “Right now, it needs to sit for a time to become more potent. It will be ready tomorrow.”
I waved him off to continue and turned to my next task—making nice with the local wind and fire. First, I connected to the wind and apologized for the forceful approach with the behemoth. She remained standoffish, hesitant, and unsure of my intentions—at least, that was the impression I got.
Well, games always worked. Let’s see if it would work now.
“Rue, buddy!” I called. “Want to play with the wind?”
He came running, tail wagging eagerly. I pulled out a kite and let it soar into the sky, sending the wind a playful feeling of “Let’s play.” The kite danced in the air, tugging and twisting, as Rue barked excitedly, chasing its shadow across the ground.
Initially, she didn’t cooperate, but nobody can deny Rue, not even a stubborn wind. Once she got into the game, I joined in, and we both chased the kite, which no longer needed a string to be directed. When I felt a giggle on the breeze, Rue and I leaped after the kite in the air, and the wind had to work harder to keep it out of our hands and jaw. By evening, we had destroyed three kites, but I’d established my connection with the wind to nearly the same level I had in Lumis—if not exactly, then pretty close.
The next day, I switched my attention to the fire. I lit a campfire and watched the flames, fueling them with my mana. It worked partially—I achieved Unity, but it was one-sided; she didn’t want to connect or, more precisely, didn’t acknowledge the connection.
Hmm, something bigger, maybe? Fire likes to devour and bring renewal.
Flying above the junkyard, I briefly considered lighting it on fire, but reconsidered. Only the spirits knew what kinds of materials were buried in those piles and what noxious chemicals might rise in the smoke. The forest on both sides of the junkyard was a different story. It was just a forest, though it looked sickly and bedraggled, with its yellowed, wilted leaves hanging like a sign of decay.
One Flame Wave scroll was enough to start a fire at the southern edge of the sick forest, as far from our field as possible. When the flames rose high, I sent the fire a feeling of “Bon appétit,” but instead of appreciation, I got a wave of disdain and contempt in return. Typical. Using the “teenager approach,” I sent back a feeling of playful pity, like saying, “You’re too weak to do this without a scroll, huh?” That got her attention—stubborn, but at least willing to engage.
The forest caught fire in earnest, and I tried to keep things light, feeding her the feeling of “have fun” without pushing too hard. At first, she was all fire and fury, refusing to play along. I stepped back, mentally reminding myself—never force. I focused on asking rather than controlling, gently guiding her energy instead of pressing for a response. Bit by bit, I felt her temper cooling, though she was still holding onto her pride.
Eventually, a small flame leaped from a tree, landing in my palm, almost like a reluctant acknowledgment. Not exactly warm and fuzzy, but she was at least playing along now. I’d call that progress.
Elements—check.
My next project was the snake harvesting spell. It took six days to complete, as there were a lot of parameters and different materials to harvest from the snakes. Finally, after six days of fine-tuning, I channeled mana into the spell, and it disappeared. A message appeared, confirming the spell’s success—thankfully, with no alarming wording.
Congratulations, Wizard!
Through your skill, intellect, and mastery of the arcane arts, you have successfully created a new spell to harvest snakes—one that has never existed in the annals of magic. The arcane forces have recognized this extraordinary achievement.
Please name your spell to finalize its creation: _______________.
I called it “Harvest Snake” and stuck my tongue out at the system. Why? Because there were still no levels. Annoying!
The spell was so complex that it took the full twelve days to finish both Mahya’s and Al’s marbles. By the time the marbles were done, Mahya had completed another Jeep but made no progress on the class she aimed for. At least I had someone to commiserate with about the lack of levels/classes.
Over dinner, I asked her a question that had been bugging me since she mentioned wanting one of the mechanic classes. “You have the Magicaneer class. Why do you even need a mechanical class? Aren’t they the same?”
She shook her head and smiled, setting her fork down. “No, not at all. The Magicaneer class is an engineering class. It’s focused on the big picture, either planning Magitech projects from scratch or retrofitting existing machinery to work with Magitech. Basically, it deals with theory, planning, or adapting things that already exist. It’s about incorporating magical elements into technology, making them work together efficiently. You know, planning how to convert a car to run on mana or redesigning a system to integrate with magic.”
She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Now, a mechanical class, like the Arcane Mechanist the system offered me, is completely different. It’s much more hands-on. While the Magicaneer focuses on planning and design, the Arcane Mechanist is about production. It’s the class that would let me actually produce engines, mechanical components, and all sorts of other mechanical apparatuses. Instead of just designing how a magic-powered engine should work, I’d be able to build the physical parts myself, down to the nuts and bolts.”
Her eyes lit up as she continued, gesturing excitedly. “It’s a crucial difference from a magical standpoint. The Magicaneer handles how to make the magical and technological elements play nice with each other, working out the theory and the balance. It’s like designing the blueprint or retrofitting an existing machine to function with magic. But a mechanical class? That’s all about getting your hands dirty—actually making the engines, gears, and devices that power or move Magitech. It’s more hands-on, like crafting the physical stuff from the ground up. For my dream to build a spaceship, I need both—the ability to plan and design the magical systems and the skill to construct the components that bring that vision to life physically.” She shrugged, a grin on her face. “You can’t build a spaceship just by thinking about it or creating a blueprint.”
I nodded, but something still didn’t quite sit right with me. “So, how did you even get an offer for the class?” I asked, frowning slightly.
She blinked, tilting her head. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t build anything, did you? You just converted the RV. So, how did you get the offer for a mechanical class?”
She stared at me with a scrunched-up face like I’d just made the world’s dumbest observation. After a few seconds, her expression shifted, realization dawning on her. “Shit, you’re right. I did build something—that’s why I got the offer.”
I leaned forward, curious now. “What did you build?”
She shook her head, almost laughing at herself. “Originally, the RV had two-wheel drive. I built—or, more accurately, repurposed—some of the stuff we had from Vegas to turn it into a four-wheel drive. So yeah, I guess I did build a new part for the RV. I can’t believe I missed that. From the mouth of the clueless.” She gave me a playful, almost teasing look.
“Hey!” I protested, feeling a sting from her words. “You make me sound like an idiot, and I’m not. Maybe I don’t know much about the different worlds and all this magic, but that’s just because I didn’t get the magical education all of you got. Don’t make me sound like I’m stupid.” The hurt in my voice was sharper than I meant, but it was there.
She paused, looking at me, her expression softening as she realized she’d hit a nerve. “You’re right. I apologize,” she said sincerely, her tone losing its teasing edge.
Al’s voice popped into my head telepathically. “I see what you mean about the fire helping you. Good.”
I nodded to both of them and kept eating, but her words still stung. Even after she apologized, the hurt stuck around, nagging at me. After dinner, I headed up to my room with a book, absentmindedly scratching Rue’s ears until the feeling finally faded.
The next morning, Mahya had a guilty look every time her eyes met mine, though she didn’t say anything. I appreciated the silent acknowledgment, but it still felt awkward. Thankfully, Al broke the tension by announcing that the potion was ready, and we needed to distribute it into containers.
Mahya and I still had a box each of the antivenom potions Lis gave us before heading off to the Dragon Realm. I checked mine and counted 52 vials. I split them evenly, giving 26 to Rue, while Mahya handed over 26 to Al. Once that was done, we moved on to filling paintballs with Al’s antivenom, using the same method we’d used for the sleeping potion.
By the time we finished, each of us had 143 antivenom balls. I tested one, effortlessly summoning it into my mouth. At least that part was going smoothly.
“We should have bought more paintballs,” I said. “They’re too useful.”
Both of them nodded in agreement. Mahya said, “I can go to Earth briefly to stock up.”
“Better not,” I warned. “If the mana has risen to nine, the waves have likely started. Do you really want to be there for the waves?”
The speed at which she shook her head was answer enough.
“Maybe your core can create them?” Al suggested.
“Worth a try,” I replied.
I placed an empty paintball on the floor and told the house, “Using the materials you absorbed, create more balls like this.”
A moment later, I got a batch of balls back, but they were rubbery and much sturdier than the ones we had before. I had to bite down hard on one and pull just to break it.
“These are tougher than expected,” I muttered, holding up the half-chewed ball for inspection.
“I see the issue,” Al said, eyeing the rubbery ball. “Identify one new and one old ball.”
I followed his suggestion, casting Identify on the new and the old balls, curious to see what differences the core had introduced.
Old ball:
A fragile, gelatinous container for liquid.
New ball:
An empty rubber container reinforced with mana.
“Yeah, I see the problem,” I said, rubbing my chin. “I don’t think we have any gelatinous substance in stock—maybe only edible gelatin for cakes. I doubt that’s going to work for this.”
“Maybe we will find something suitable in our travels,” Al suggested, his tone encouraging.
“Maybe,” I replied, not entirely convinced but open to the possibility. “For now, we have enough. I’m so glad we bought a big supply.” I focused on my Storage, and the number flashed in my mind—3,752,100 paintballs. That should keep us covered for a while.
Going outside, I lay on the grass and stared at the sky, feeling slightly off-kilter. I needed space—some time to think. The weight of everything hung heavy in the air around me. After a while, I heard footsteps approaching and glanced over to see Mahya. She didn’t say anything as she lay beside me, close but not too close, both of us watching the clouds drift by.
For a few minutes, the silence stretched between us. Then, out of nowhere, she blurted, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said, not in the mood to revisit the conversation.
But she wasn’t letting it go that easily. “No, I need to,” she said, her voice softer now. I felt her shift beside me, fingers plucking at the grass. “Since we got to the US, or maybe since you connected with the wind, you’ve been... lighter. More playful, more teasing. It suits you.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the sky, avoiding mine. “And I guess I let myself tease you back, but I went too far.”
She hesitated, and I could hear her swallow, like she was trying to gather her thoughts. “You’re one of the smartest and most talented people I’ve ever met. I meant it when I said you’re scary—scary talented. When I joked about you being clueless, called you an idiot or a crazy wizard, I never meant it. It was just... a joke. I didn’t think it would actually hurt.”
Her fingers stopped fiddling with the grass, and she finally turned her head slightly, glancing at me. “But I think I pushed it too much. It made it seem like I was serious, and that was wrong. A joke’s only funny when it doesn’t hurt, and I’m sorry if it did.”
She shifted closer, her voice barely above a whisper now. “You saved my life, and I’ll never forget that. After everything we’ve been through, I can honestly say I love you like family. You’re one of the most important people in my life. Maybe the most important... since my family is, well, only the spirits know where.”
I stayed quiet, letting her words sink in. I could feel the sincerity, guilt, and affection in them. “Apology accepted,” I said, teasing to keep things from getting too heavy.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She shifted again, this time resting her head gently on my chest. I wrapped an arm around her, holding her close, the weight between us finally lifting.
We stayed like that for hours, just watching the sky. The silence was warm and comforting now. There was no more hurt, no more guilt, just peace.
Comments
TravelingDreamer
They don't think about it
TravelingDreamer
👍
Patrick S.
Aaaaaand Im up to date again 🥲
Obran
Cops, criminals, and the military sometimes “police their brass” i.e. collect the spent shell so that it cannot be traced back to the original gun. Will John and the Scooby gang have to police their gelatin so they can be mended and reused.
