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Everyone's a Catgirl! Ch. 267: Soon You’ll Get Better
🕑 Added 2024-06-11 22:49:07 +0000 UTCAlia drew a deep breath as she observed the stars from the balcony. The night was cold and dry, and she clung to her dark robes for warmth and comfort. The hour was close at hand, and it took great effort to still her quaking heart.
It’s just a man. It’s just a man.
She repeated the thought over and over like a mantra, occasionally brushing back the bangs of her long, black hair. It hung over one shoulder in a complex braid, the end frayed like a sprout. Round cheeks, thin lips, and pointed eyebrows framed a set of blood-red eyes. Her smooth, alabaster skin had scarcely been touched by the sun, her time often spent in the light of the moon.
A door clicked behind her, and she flinched.
“Are you Alia?” came a man’s voice.
Alia turned to the source of the sound, blinking rapidly. “I-I am she. Yes.”
The man—who looked much younger than she’d anticipated—offered her an easy smile and combed a tuft of his pale yellow hair with his fingers. “A bit cold out,” he said, rubbing his forearms. He approached, looking to his left and then to his right. “Do you mind if I enter [Combat Mode]? I’ll have a cloak that way.”
Alia shook her head, cursing herself for acting like a kitten. “N-no. Go ahead.”
The man’s smile widened, and he recited, “[Combat Mode].” Robes of brown and tan dressed him, and a cloak of red hung over him. He wrapped the cloak around him, sighing contentedly. “Much better. Oh! I’m sorry, my name is Tristan.” He proffered his hand.
Tristan. A wonderful name.
Alia swallowed, looking at it as if it was foreign to her. Trembling, she took his hand, squeezed hard, then nodded. “Thank you,” she managed before letting go. “Mistress Emberlynn told me that you wish to become a [Wizard].”
Tristan nodded, and his lips formed a thin line. “Yes. Regarding that, I wanted to know if it would be alright if we set it aside for tomorrow. After the Defiled attack, I’m very tired.”
Emberlynn had advised Alia to be firm with her convictions; to lead the charge in the event that the man displayed hesitation. How she was supposed to manage this, she had no idea. Even though she lived within the estate, she rarely spoke to anyone—especially those within its walls. Unlike most catgirls, she came alive when the sun fell and the stars rose, so by the time others were turning in and taking their baths, Alia was waking up and having breakfast.
“I-I-I understand,” Alia said, steadying her breathing and clasping her hands in front of her lap, “but magic is an art. A sentience.” She turned around and gestured to the stars with outstretched arms. “It will not wait for us. We abide by its time, not by our own.” Half of that was true, but she had to concoct some sort of excuse for why they couldn’t put it off until the night after. The last thing she wanted was Emberlynn’s chagrin. “And besides,” she said, lowering her arms, “there is no promise that tomorrow will not also be an exhausting day.”
Tristan crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He shut his eyes, drew a deep breath, then exhaled again as he opened his eyes. “Okay. Teach me.”
Alia’s heart skipped a beat, and she sucked in her lips. She’d have to practice exceptional restraint in not spilling all of the secret magic tricks she’d learned in the last two years—while teaching a man who stood a head taller than her nonetheless.
Okay. Calm down. Just take it from the very beginning.
“T-to start,” she stammered. She cocked her head back and turned around. Her face was hot to the touch. Calm down, you dumb kitten! Gosh! “W-we start with the proper application of myana.”
Tristan came to her side and leaned over to see her face. She responded by pulling her hood over her head in hopes that it might hide the infuriating blush she displayed.
“How does that work?” Tristan asked.
Alia frowned. “You are a [Mage], are you not?”
Tristan nodded and looked up at the sky. “I am.”
Oh my, we really will have to start from the beginning. How does he not know about myana application?
Alia thought back, as far as she could, to the days when she was a kitten and displayed the first signs of fire aptitude. The blaze had been enormous, nearly burning down her nyanny’s home. She recalled the sensation, wondering briefly if the men experienced something similar.
“Alright. It is a fine thing that you are in [Combat Mode],” Alia said. “That will help me gauge where your current understanding lies.”
“I appreciate your patience with me,” he smiled.
Alia writhed under her robes. His smile was so warm and gentle, his eyes like stars in the—
Stop that nonsensical poetry! Gosh! Just teach the man!
Alia cleared her throat. “What is your [Magic] Stat?”
“Appear, iPaw,” Tristan said. The magical device Alia had only ever heard of and never seen appeared in his hand. The artifact was thin and bore a pair of ears at the top. It was a charming object, to be sure. Afterward, a string of unintelligible words spilled out of his mouth, and she reeled back in surprise. Moments later, the device disappeared. “My [Magic] Stat is at 22.”
Alia frowned. “And what is your Level?”
“Also 22.”
“You spent every Level on [Magic]?”
Tristan scratched the side of his head. “Yes. I was told it shouldn’t hurt me if I want to be a [Wizard].”
That was mostly true, but how Tristan had gotten this far without understanding the severity of his choices was…odd. He carried a sort of naïveté, and she found that charming. “Perhaps…I’m asking the wrong questions. When you cast a Spell, what do you feel?”
Tristan furrowed his brow. “Feel. Hmm. I’m not sure. Honestly, each time I used my magic, it was in the heat of the moment.”
“Okay. Let’s try it now.” Alia swallowed and carefully gripped him by his forearm. Goodness, it was strong. How his muscles moved and tensed with her touch, the intricacies of his skin, the subtle visibility of his veins. Goodness, was he nice to look at. “Aim high.”
She elevated his arm and straightened it in a particular angle toward the sky. Afterward, she took a few steps back, created a half-box—one hand above, another below—to better understand the angle, then said, “A little higher.” Tristan raised his arm higher and Alia gestured for him to stop. “Perfect.”
“What are you having me do?” he asked.
“I am sure you know an attack Spell of some sort?” Alia said as she returned to his side.
Tristan nodded. “I do. I know [Fire Ball].”
“Great. I want you to flatten your hand, then cast [Fire Ball] toward the sky at that angle.”
Tristan’s eyes widened. “What if I hurt someone?”
“You won’t,” Alia said with utmost certainty. “At that angle and your current Level of [Magic], the Spell will fizzle out before it can do any damage.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” She raised her pointer finger as she continued to explain. “What I want you to do is focus on what you feel when the Spell leaves your hand. Close your eyes if that makes it easier.”
“Alright.” Tristan unfurled his fingers, drew a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. Then he cried, “[Fire Ball]!”
A raging blaze soared from Tristan’s palm and high into the night sky. The majesty of its light was breathtaking, and as it grew smaller, Alia smiled. Magic was such a beautiful art form.
“What did you feel?” Alia asked.
“I’m…not sure, if I’m being honest.” Tristan retracted his hand and flexed his fingers. “It felt cold for a moment. No, not even a moment.”
“A fraction of a fraction,” Alia said in understanding. “What you felt was the myana within your body charging, then leaving. The Spell’s strength, as well as how much myana it consumes, will determine how that sensation sweeps over you. [Fire Ball] is an inexpensive Spell, so with a pool of [Myana Points] as large as yours, you felt very little.”
“Is it always like this?”
Alia shook her head. “No. With practice, you can increase or decrease the intensity as needed. Managing your [Myana Points] is a careful and deliberate act. If you cannot control the flow of myana willingly, then you will make a poor [Wizard].”
“Is there a reason I would want to increase the intensity?”
Alia nodded. “Increasing the intensity will allow you to better gauge your [Myana Points] total. With time, you will come to understand what feels ‘full’ to you and what feels ‘empty.’”
Tristan nodded. “I think I understand. So, how can I adjust the intensity?”
Alia giggled. “Kitten steps! We do not learn how to run before we walk.” She brushed her fingers against the large violet jewel that hung around her neck. An idea occurred to her. She undid the fastening from the back, removed the amulet, and extended it toward Tristan. “Put this around your neck.”
Tristan took it and began to put it on. The black iron chains looked spectacular around his pale skin. “What does it do?”
“This will amplify your Spells. Mistress Emberlynn Enchanted it herself.”
“Ah. Ravyn let me use something like this before.”
Alia nodded. “Excellent. Each Spell you cast will double in power, but also in myana. Because of this, however, we will need you to arch your arm a little higher.” She motioned for him to raise his arm, and as he did so, Alia adjusted the incline of his arm, standing back once more to make sure he was aiming properly. “Perfect. Now, try again.”
“Okay.” He cleared his throat and cried, “[Fire Ball]!”
The blaze that soared from his hand was incredible. As the ball of flame flew through the air, Alia did the mental math, estimating that it had grown by, roughly, fifty percent. As before, the flame fizzled and reduced in size as it traveled, then vanished into the darkness of the night.
“What did you feel that time?” Alia asked.
“It was stronger,” Tristan said with wide eyes.
“When you’re taken out of combat, it becomes easier to focus on what’s going on around you. Magic is a form of mental acuity and situational awareness.” Proudly, she raised her finger again and said, “Mindfulness is the key component to magic. A calm [Wizard] is a powerful [Wizard]. Remain composed, and few will be able to combat you.”
“That’s going to take some getting used to. Truth be told, combat is still a scary concept to me.”
Alia understood that better than anyone. To this day, she was still practicing mindfulness and composure during combat. She’d learned and adapted much, thanks to Mistress Emberlynn and Alia’s late mother, but when the flow of combat didn’t proceed as planned, many [Wizard]s fell apart. She was no exception.
“I know how you feel,” Alia said, tucking her arms inside the sleeves of her robes. “I still struggle in the heat of combat sometimes. Practicing a careful balance of mindfulness and composure in a fight can prove difficult. We become so focused on ourselves, the myana within us, the actions of our Party members, and the terrible actions of our opponents that it can be difficult to keep a level head.”
Tristan blinked. “I’m open to any advice you have.”
Alia thought. Tristan seemed not only an intelligent person—and goodness was that attractive—but a thoughtful one. His kind demeanor and brief moments of silence suggested he chewed on each word she spoke, carefully considering what she’d said, then asking questions as appropriate. If how she assumed him was true, then he would make a powerful [Wizard] one day.
“Do you like mental exercises?” Alia asked.
Tristan nodded. “I do. Keeps my mind fresh. I spend much of my time reading and painting.” He chuckled. “Well, drawing more than painting lately.”
He paints? He paints!
Alia reminded herself to maintain composure. Yes, she wasn’t in combat, but a teacher blushing and stuttering and struggling to keep up with the conversation was shameful. Though, the idea of him painting her wearing nothing but soft silks to cover her wasn’t entirely—
“That’s wonderful!” Alia said before the intrusive thoughts could take hold. “It sounds to me like you have a tactician’s mind. Mistress Emberlynn expressed to me that you came seeking her counsel regarding San Island’s economy. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Tristan said with a light groan. “But I would like to avoid that discussion for now.”
Alia smiled. “Not to worry. When we speak, we speak only of magic.” She’d nearly lost her thought but quickly recovered. “What I mean to say is that if you are not already doing it, then approaching combat like a game of Queen’s Gambit would likely best suit you. Have you played?”
A curious smile appeared on his face. “Yes.”
Alia’s heart skipped. “I-it may sound terrible, but observing your Party members like pieces on a board may help you keep them alive.”
“Hm. That does rub me wrong in some areas, but I think I know what you mean.” He rested his fingers on his chin, glancing between her and the floor. “Predict the outcomes. Don’t be scared of them, but anticipate them on the off chance that they occur.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m sorry, this is becoming difficult. I’m just tired.”
Alia nodded. “It is quite alright. As per Mistress Emberlynn’s request, however, I must implore that we tackle one more part of the lesson before we conclude the night.”
Tristan nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Okay.”
Reaching into one of the dozens of pockets in her robes, Alia plucked out a handful of jewels. She picked out one of each available color and then returned the duplicates to the pocket. Afterward, she took a seat on the soft wood, splaying them out in a half circle. “Garnet. Topaz. Emerald.” She pointed to each one as she recited their names. “Each stone is associated with an element, a property. The purity and grade of the gem will strengthen your magic. Such gems are essential to bringing out the full potential of each [Wizard] Spell.”
Tristan sat down across from her and set his hands on his knees. “That sounds expensive. How necessary are they, exactly?”
“You will not make a proper [Wizard] if you cannot keep your Spells supplied with gems.”
Tristan drew a deep breath. “Alright. Continue.”
Alia hesitated. “What I would like you to do is concentrate on pouring your myana into the gem. These vessels are empty, so it will be easier.” The look on Tristan’s face was complicated. Torn and twisted into expressions she couldn’t find words for. “We’ll start slow. Remember what happened when you cast [Fire Ball]? That cold sensation when the myana left you? Focus on that feeling, and let it spill out of you.”
“Alright, I’ll try.” Tristan shut his eyes and extended his palm toward the topaz.
Alia extended her hands to her sides, focusing on the myana in the air. When she felt nothing, she shut her eyes to help herself concentrate. Then she felt it. The slightest trickle of magic poured out of Tristan. It was gentle and steady, fragile. The myana flowed onto the planks of the balcony, sweeping over the jewels but never resting within them.
“Calm yourself,” Alia said. “Calm, steady breaths. Mindfulness. Feel it flow through you.”
The myana reverted its course, regaining some of its autonomy and sweeping over the jewels with deliberation. As it strengthened, she could feel some of it seeping into her own skin. It felt wonderful—cool, kind, and caressing every inch of her skin like the brushing of fingertips. Goosebumps prickled on her arms.
Seconds later, the myana halted entirely.
“Tristan?” Alia opened her eyes just as Tristan fell forward and into her lap. “Eep!” she squealed, then quickly clapped a hand to her mouth. Tristan’s breathing labored, and his eyes were shut. It seemed the exhaustion had taken him. “O-o-oh my. Oh my, oh my. Gosh, what do I…uhhh.”
Alia swallowed and gently combed his hair with her fingers—it was soft, tousled, and curled, and his smooth face suggested an innocence behind the perceptive mind.
“Well…I suppose we’ll postpone our lesson until tomorrow after all.”
